I vowed to spend the day searching for jobs, then yawned loudly—how was I already exhausted? The only thing I’d done with my day was drive a few miles to get a coffee.
Okay, soaftera nap I’d start looking for jobs. I needed to saveup my strength, anyway, for the VGO rep coming to take my blood.
I shivered at the thought. My only hope was that they’d send someone pleasant. Orvaguelypleasant; I wasn’t deluded enough to hope for outright nice. The VGO didn’t do nice.
On the topic of vampires, I supposed I alwayscouldgo back to decoying for Dignitary when times got really tough. Maybe I’d even meet another gorgeous immortal. Fall in love.
I shook my head at myself in the rearview mirror. Was I kidding? Hell no. Absolutely not.
Barring Jerry, I was swearing off vampire men for good, since the ones I attracted seemed to either want to kill me or break my heart. Probably best that I stay single for a while, anyway, given the utter disasters my last two relationships had been.
My situation wasn’t entirely hopeless, I supposed. Maybe Liz and I could move back in together, since her man had dumped her, too. We could even find other scorned women and run a lonely-hearts club right out of the apartment. At each meeting, we’d eat cookie dough and burn mementos from our exes over a bonfire. I barked out a sour laugh, imagining it.
I grabbed the jumbo sunglasses I’d slid on top of my head and placed them on my face. I looked insane because it was about to start pouring—Bay Area rain was stealthier than a certain French vampire skank plotting to steal another woman’s boyfriend—but my eyes were puffy from crying. I exited the car and make my way toward the ATM. It took all the strength I had to get moving, but I didn’t want to bethatperson driving across the parking lot only so that I wouldn’t have to walk a few extra yards.
I’d made it all of ten steps when some creeper on a ten-speed jangled his bike bell and simpered, “Hey, sexy lady, you smell nice.”
It was exactly what I needed in a not-at-all kind of way. Irolled my eyes at him—not that he could see it through my dark sunglasses—and skulked off. He muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot likesnotty bitch, then peddled off.
I shook my head and muttered a few choice words of my own. Why were men such dirtbags? And when has being creepy ever worked for a guy?
What had he expected me to say anyway?Why, thanks for sniffing me, kind sir! I drove into this parking lot just so you could marvel at my sexiness. Love the bike bell!
Asshole.
There was no line at the ATM, which was great. The coffee I’d inhaled was making me need to pee in an urgent way. Bet guy on the bike wouldn’t think I smelled so delicious if I wet my pants. And I nearlydidwet my pants when I got a look at my bank statement.
“That . . . That can’t be,” I gasped, looking around as if I was going to find validation from a random stranger.
On the verge of passing out, I signed out of my account and trotted into the bank. I must have looked like a complete wreck, with my messy hair, puffy eyes, and red nose. The teller didn’t seem amused, even when I explained my situation for the third time. I didn’t like repeating myself, but I was not getting through to the woman. She obviously didn’t believe me, as if going into banks and making up outlandish stories was something I did for kicks.
“Would you please check for me?” I asked, thrusting my card over the counter. “I don’t know why my account is showing that amount. Therehasto be some mistake.”
With a longsuffering sigh of someone accustomed to dealing with idiots, the teller took my card, though I could tell she didn’t want to. “Okay, so you want me to check . . .” She eyed me over the top of the computer screen, still confused despite mynumerous explanations. “What specifically would you like to know?”
I fought hard to stay calm. “I’d like to knowwhenandhowone million dollars got deposited into my checking account.”
After a bit of typing, the teller’s fingers stopped moving. Her eyes widened at whatever she was seeing on the screen. Guess she believed me now.
“One second, please,” she said, getting up from her chair. “I’m going to check with our manager.”
A couple minutes later, a middle-aged man with a comb-over haircut and friendly smile came over and offered me his hand. He introduced himself, providing me a name I forgot as soon as he said it. He then invited me to join him in his office. On his desk was a photo of him at the beach with a plain but sweet red-haired woman and two grinning, freckled children who were clutching popsicles that had turned their smiles orange. His family, I assumed.
He tossed an empty soda cup into the garbage can by his feet and asked me to repeat all my information again, so that he could bring my account up on his computer. I did as he requested, then waited for him to tell me that there’d been some epic error, that hackers had breached their system and deposited a million dollars of fraudulent funds into my account.
He turned his screen around so I could see it. He tapped the area that showed my balance. “You can see here that the deposit was made late yesterday. No mistake was made. The money is yours.”
“Who put it in there?”
As if I had to ask. I could only think of one vampire who had the means and motivation to put such an exorbitant amount of funds into my account. Nevertheless, I wanted to see it with my own two eyes.
The manager shrugged apologetically. “I’m afraid I don’t know.”
“You don’t know, or you can’t tell me?”
“I don’t know.”
How could that be possible?
