Slightly Impaired
P.R. Mason
Published by Patricia Mason, writing as P.R. Mason at Smashwords
Copyright 2012 P.R. Mason
Discover other titles by P.R. Mason at: http://www.prmason.net
Since the accident, I wasn't quite right. Slightly impaired. Sometimes details dribbled out of my memory and I couldn't quite... Like, why was I standing at the cash register behind the counter of this old diner? Had I taken a job as a waitress?
Anything was possible.
Judging from the bills in my hand and the open cash drawer, I seemed to be making change. Was the cash in my hand for the till or the customer?
The place was almost empty. Just me, one customer at a booth, and the smell of stale fry grease. Where was the cook? In the back? Could I be the cook? Somehow I couldn't picture myself flipping burgers. Na, I must be the waitress.
The customer got up, his long trench coat sweeping around him as he moved. The guy winked at me before striding toward the back hall. He passed under the "restrooms" sign over the arch of the doorway and disappeared.
With his dark eyes and chin length black hair, he had been kind of cute, I thought. Cute in a pale, bloodshot-eye way.
Abruptly, my own thoughts irritated me. Forget cuteness. Think about what you're doing, I chastised myself. The cash register. Why are you at the cash register? Apparently, the cute customer wasn't looking for change so I thrust the money into the drawer and slammed it shut.
I glanced around. The inky night obscured the windows from the outside as if I was in a Formica and linoleum cocoon. The fluorescent light cast a harsh glare over the worn surfaces. They all needed a good scrubbing.
Well, if I was working here then I was the one to do the scrubbing. Glancing down at my clothes I wondered if what I wore was a uniform. Didn't seem very waitressy but then since the accident...Anyway, I might not remember what a uniform was supposed to look like.
I scratched my head and searched my sieve-like brain for where the cleaning supplies might be. Nothing came to mind. No memory. But under the counter seemed like a logical start. Sure enough. A rag and spray bottle of cleaner was tucked there on the first shelf. After removing them, I squirted three generous helpings of the yellow liquid onto the counter and began wiping.
I barely had a chance to enjoy the pleasantly chemical smell of the cleaner when the customer emerged from the back.
"I got the cook in the store room," he said.
Glancing up, I stifled a scream when I saw the lower half of his face covered with blood. He licked his lips and smiled. The white-hot light glinted off the tips of his fangs.
"What are you doing?" he asked, coming toward me.
Frozen in fear, I couldn't force out an answer.
The customer took the bottle and rags out of my hands and threw them down. Then, grabbing my arm, he pulled me out from behind the counter. As we rounded the end, I tripped over a body lying facedown. A small halo of blood framed the head...Now I remembered what a waitress uniform looked like 'cause the body was wearing one.
"Aghhhhhhhhhhhh," I screamed.
"Jesus!" the guy shouted. Stopping, he turned to look at me. "Don't yell in my ear like that. What's the matter with you?"
"Sorry," I said. "I almost fell."
"Oh yeah." He glanced down at the body. His gaze returned to mine and he smirked. "You shoulda seen her face when you moved on her. Priceless. She barely knew what was happening before you had your teeth in her neck."
"My teeth?"
Reaching up as I opened my mouth I explored the tips of the fang incisors with a tentative touch. Oh yeah. I wasn't a waitress. I was a vampire. So many little facts seemed to escape me lately.
"Enough chit chat," he said. "We just stopped in for a snack. We can't stay long. The Hunter is too close on our tails."
"Hunter?"
He shook his head. Stephan. That was the guy's name...maybe.
"How much of your brain did that wooden stake to the head take out, anyway?" Stephan eyed me with an arched brow.
"I'm okay," I said. "No problem. The Hunter. Got it."
"Did you clean out the register?" he asked.
"Umm."
He gave a disgusted huff as he looked down at me. "If you weren't so damned beautiful—"
Beautiful? I couldn't remember my looks, but I was glad Stephan liked them.
He considered me for a moment before planting a hard, quick kiss on my lips. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. Stephen pushed past me to return around to the back of the counter. A punch at the keys and the old register opened with a typical jangle.... at least I thought it was typical. He scooped out the cash and crammed it in his pocket before returning to my side.
"Come on," he said, tilting his head at me. "Let's get out of here."
Nodding, I followed him out into the night.
Vampire, I reminded myself. I must try to remember I'm a vampire. But since the accident...
The end.
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Acknowledgement
Cover Image from photo by Mack2Happy/FreeDigitalPhotos.net.