I mean, come on, no reflection. Vampires will show up on IR and FLIR and trigger motion sensors. Regular video and photos? Nope. Sometimes, you’ll get an unrecognizable blur but never a clear picture. And the mirror thing? Totes true. That’s why the only two mirrors in Club Toxic are in the nightclub bathrooms on the ground floor. Mostly because it’d be weird if they didn’t have mirrors in there.
I head down to the exercise room and run a couple of miles on the treadmill. I hate to exercise, and I’m usually on my feet during a shift at work, but I don’t want to lose my edge. I frequently spar and train with a bear shifter over at Fight Club when it’s closed, but right now, he’s out of town. I don’t like to spar with humans because even with guys bigger than me, I tend to overwhelm them and freak them out.
It’s a reasonably safe bet some of the shifters who know I can physically take care of myself are hoping I’ll one day go rogue and stake every vamp in Club Toxic.
No, that won’t happen. Live and let live.
Believe me, Igetit. I understandwhythere are plenty of shifters who don’t like vampires. There are a lot of vampires I don’t like, either. But we have to build bridges somewhere. Maybe Tucson will one day be seen as the start of a new era of cooperation.
When I finish my workout, I grab my clean laundry from the dryer, fold everything, and head upstairs to take a shower and start getting ready. It’s not even four yet, but I always have something to do at the club. Might as well arrive early.
Before dark.
After my shower, I get dressed and decide to put on heavier makeup than I usually wear when I’m working, followed by my wig. One final check in the mirror, and “Blue” is ready. I grab a comfy pair of PJ pants and flip-flops and tuck them into a duffel bag, along with a light blanket and a pillow.
I gave serious thought to dressing up for Dexter. I have a pair of black Jimmy Choo pumps in my closet, shoes I hardly ever get to wear. I honestly don’t even know why I still have them. They were given to me a few years ago as a gift, and I haven’t been able to bring myself to sell them. Hell, they literally look brand new.
It’s not like I date. I don’t dress up for work because the last thing I want to do is draw too much attention from vampires. But sometimes, for my errands, it requires I wear a cocktail dress or other formal attire to fit in, and the shoes come in handy. I’ve also been known to occasionally play a girlfriend for a shifter who needs a date to a family wedding or other event and who wants to keep their family off their back. Safer than bringing a clueless human with them, and I can play the role.
Not tonight, though. I’m wearing jeans tonight—my Docs and a black Club Toxic tee with a neon blue logo. I thought about wearing a skirt, but I’d rather have the extra protection.
Of course, a layer of stone-washed denim won’t stop a determined vampire any more than garlic and a silver crucifix, but it makesmefeel better.
Grabbing my stuff, I lock my apartment door and head downstairs. I’m busy paying attention to my surroundings as I leave the building and cross the sunbaked parking lot, angling toward my Toyota. Which is why I pull up short when I’m a few feet away, the smell of fresh rubber wrinkling my nose. And…
What.
The.
Actual.
Fuuuck?
There are four new tires on my 4Runner.
I’m legit having trouble processing this, which is why it takes me a moment to snap back into awareness. I glance around, but there’s no sign of a mechanic, or AAA dude, or…
Shitballs.
They’re Pirellis, too, which arehellaexpensive.
Reaching out with my right foot, I toe the rear driver’s tire with my Docs and confirm the new rubber isn’t an illusion. I circle my SUV—yep, all four tires—five, counting the spare mounted on the back—are new.
That’s when I realize it’s also been detailed on the outside, including waxed as best it can be given the condition of the paint in places. And my headlamp housings, which were all hazy and yellowed, have been treated and polished and practically look like new.
There aren’t any cars on either side of me, and weren’t when I parked, so it would’ve been easy to accomplish without moving my 4Runner.
Dexter.
Ithasto be him.
I can’t imagine Lucius would invade my privacy like this. For starters, if he was going to have it done, he’d tell me. He’d also have it done while I was at the club, or tell me to take my car in to a garage.
He wouldn’t just…
I shiver, and I’m not sure if it’s from the creep factor or the fact that hunky Dexter cared enough to do this for me.
Or is obsessed enough to do this for me.
