To all the unlikable women
You know who you are
Vlad:Do you want a subscription to MasterClass? That online thing where famous people share their secrets to success? The woman who invented Spanx teaches a course. Just saying.
Me:what exactly are you trying to say?
Vlad:She’s successful, no?
Me:i don’t have time to take classes from people who are supposedly more successful than me
Lies. All lies. I had nothing but time. Not to mention I already had a subscription, thanks to a midnight impulse purchase, not that I’d stayed awake for any of the classes.
Vlad:What about a Finance 101 class?
Me:absolutely not
I slipped on a white button-down shirt, a cue to take myself seriously so my ex wouldn’t think of me next time he saw a class in basic life skills.
At least, that was the idea. George Washington dressed like a general, and look what that got him. If you took the outfit away, who was he really? A toothless dude with a small penis. I know, I was surprised too. The man was all codpiece, no cod. But if George could impress the ContinentalCongress with some gold buttons, a powdered wig, and a mouth full of other people’s teeth, I should be able to talk a mid-level manager named Lance into a minor shift change.
A two-minute cat eye was all I needed to finish my look. I pulled up one of my favorite beauty influencers on TikTok and hitPlayon a recent video. A confident blond with a contoured face waved a tube of liquid eyeliner in front of the camera. “One minute per eye!” she announced, leaning into the camera and expertly lining one eye. She made it look as easy as breathing.
“Now, grab your boyfriend’s black card.” She smugly waved a piece of black plastic and gave it a kiss. “Before you treat yourself to a shopping spree, use it as a straightedge.” In a practiced movement, she placed the card at the corner of one eye and swiped a perfectly straight line toward her temple, her makeup a bold, black checkmark that said “Yep, she’s got it.”
I’d cut up my own credit card in a budget crisis, but I had an LA Metro TAP pass that would do the trick. Confident, sexy, getting ahead—tonight my eyes would speak for me. I couldn’t always count on my mouth.
As I opened my camera in selfie mode, the phone screen went black. A quick tap didn’t revive it, so I hit the side button. Still nothing. Just when I needed my phone the most, it was a useless rectangle.Just like a man, I imagined the TikToker saying, though I didn’t exactly have a man to blame. I was the one who forgot to charge it. I hurriedly plugged my phone in.
When you can’t use a mirror, you get extra dependent on selfie view, which is a nice loophole in the no-reflection issue. People always think of vampires as glamorous, but really, how was I supposed to do eye makeup blind? Vampires pre-smartphone—just forget about anything complicated. A little blush and a forgiving lipstick—nothing matte—was the best we could do back in the day.
I wandered over to the patinaed mirror behind my bar cart, an ornategold frame from the fifteenth century that some guy had given to me. Nothing had changed. I was still invisible, at least to myself, but all the design influencers I followed hung mirrors above their home bars, and I thought it looked cute. Cat wove between bottles of bourbon and gin, begging for dinner with a throaty purr. Instead of my face, the mirror reflected back a pile of clothes I’d been meaning to put away for an eternity. Immortality really takes the pressure off laundry. A hot-pink scrap of lace peek-a-booed from underneath a pair of sweatpants, making me do a double take. That bra had been “missing” so long that I’d replaced it.
Cat meowed for food and I admonished her. “Shut up, beast. You just ate.” She stared at me like I was stupid. With a sigh, I removed her from the bar cart before she could break something.
Before leaving for the night, I turned off the TV, which had been paused on a Hallmark Channel movie for an hour. This one was about some woman who inherits a fixer-upper. After Vlad’s implication that I was a financial mess, I wasn’t feeling it. I’d been teetering on the edge of ruin for three hundred years and didn’t need the reminder.
If I lived anywhere else, I’d probably own a home by now. But LA is the place to be for a reason. The blaring sunshine and traffic keep other vampires away and, more importantly, out of my business. Kristen Stewart could be lurking around any corner. Everything is open twenty-four hours a day. The all-night plasma donation clinic where I work is perfect for someone like me. At least, it was until last week.
Lance had been staring at his phone and leaning on my desk. Without looking up, he’d said, “Tiffany, I need you to come in at 5 p.m. from now on.”
Five—that’s an hourbeforesunset this time of year, and three hours at the height of summer. My face would melt off—which would suck because I’d just gotten my skincare routine down. (It’s the little things that break you. It’s the little things that keep you going.)
Already criminally late for work, I found my front door blocked. When I pushed, the sound of cardboard sliding across gritty concrete metmy ears. I managed to shimmy through the opening and found a large box blocking the door. On top of the box was an envelope the size and shape of a greeting card. At the sight of the addressee my smile wilted.Current resident, it read in lazy calligraphy.
The box below it was fromHellofresh! Had I ordered a box of chicken? I didn’t even eat food. Seriously. I needed to get ahold of myself.
On the way to work, I called HelloFresh. “Hi, I need to cancel a subscription,” I said, hoping my earbuds would pick up my competent, I’m-handling-problems voice.
“Let me look up your information. What’s your name?”
“Tiffany Amanda Blair.”
“While I’m looking you up, may I ask why you’re canceling?”
“Food isn’t currently in my diet.” When that was met with silence, I added, “I’m on a juice cleanse. It’s an LA thing.”
He laughed. “I’m sorry to hear that. Is there anything we can do to change your mind? Free boxes, free breakfast?”
