His phone rang. Mr. Denton.
Charlie almost didn't answer, but habit won.
"You coming in tonight or not?"
"I'm not feeling well."
"I need you here, Charlie. Jerry just called in with food poisoning. Madison's got her kid's recital. There's no one else."
"Mr. Denton?—"
"I've cut you a lot of slack recently. Please repay the favor."
The line went dead.
"Your boss seems nice," Brent said.
Charlie dropped his phone. This was great. Just great. Eight pm… the sun set at seven thirty, so he would have just enough time. "I'll have to go to work tonight."
"Dude, no. You're clearly not okay."
True, but what did that matter? Aside from Brent, nobody else in this world seemed to care. "If I don't go, I might lose my job."
"So get another job."
"It's not that simple." Charlie tried to explain. "I'm already late on rent, and no one else will hire me for night shifts only."
"And you can't work days because you're a vampire, right." Brent nodded like this made perfect sense. "The commitment to the role is admirable, but maybe tone it down for job interviews?"
A laugh bubbled up from Charlie's chest, slightly hysterical.
If only he could 'turn it down' for job interviews.
He buried his head in his hands, and that was when he heard it.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
Brent's heartbeat. Clear as a drum, steady and strong. Charlie had never noticed it before, but now he couldn't unhear it. Therhythmic pump of blood through veins, life flowing just under the skin.
Life that would feedhislife.
"You okay?" Brent leaned closer. "You're staring."
Charlie jerked back. "Fine. I'm fine."
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
"Maybe some juice would help? I've got apple, orange?—"
"Tomato?" Charlie asked desperately.
"Let me check." Brent got up, and Charlie found himself tracking the movement, watching the way the veins in Brent's neck moved when he turned his head.
No. Absolutely not. Brent was his friend. Possibly his only friend.
"Found some!" Brent returned with a can of tomato juice.
Charlie grabbed it and drank greedily. It helped for about ten seconds before his stomach cramped, rejecting the substitute. "More?"
