Heaven glanced over her shoulder. “I don’t know if you should be asking her for advice.”
Dr. R tried to right herself, mumble-singing, “Gitchie, gitchie, ya-ya, da-da.”
“I have no words,” Heaven said.
“Don’t worry ladies. I’ve got this,” Dr. R said. She didn’t. A minute later, she lay down on one of the throw pillows and passed out stone cold.
“Dr. R,” I said, “what’s your address?”
Heaven shook her head. “Damn, this small town is messy. Not bad, but a real mess.”
“Dr. R,” I called into the back again.
No response.
I could text Jessica to figure out where she lived, but Dr. R might be too drunk to be alone anyway. Taking her to our place wasn’t ideal, but it seemed like the best option. Plus, after the craziness of the night, all I wanted to do was go home.
She was going to be our first guest at Radiance.
We pulled up to the inn. In the quiet of our driveway, Dr. R passed out in the back, Heaven and I sat absorbing the events of the evening for a moment. “You’re right, Heaven. I will try to work on my issues a bit. Whatever that means.” It sounded like such a cliché but I needed more work than our condemned inn, apparently.
After Heaven and I carried Dr. R upstairs and tucked her into my bed, I slipped out of the Arwen dress. Finding nothing of my own, I reached into Tiffany’s closet and grabbed an oversized black T-shirt that saidNo fearacross the chest in bold, jagged letters. There were several of them, all with motivational sayings. This one readSecond place is the first loser. Tonight, that resonated.
I always say that sleeping in a coffin is for posers, vampires who are just trying to throw their status in your face.Hey, look at me. I’m a vampire!There’s no reason not to sleep in a bed. They are objectively more comfortable and fit with a modern design aesthetic. But tonight, I needed a tight lid to block out the world. Luckily, no one had responded to my Craigslist ad: “Black lacquer coffin, velvet lining, lightly used, $3,000.”
I climbed into the coffin and lowered the lid. I didn’t even do my skincare routine.
Tiffenie!” I woke up to Vlad knocking on my coffin. “Are you in there?” His voice sounded distant on the other side of the lid. If I shut my eyes I could imagine he was very far away. I was deep underground, dead for real, done playing at life.
I shut my eyes, but he kept on. “Vlad, I would like to sleep in.”
He cracked open the lid. He didn’t look contrite, more like Cat after horking up a hairball.
“You’re mad?” he asked.
I sat up. “Of course I’m mad.” Now that I was awake, I could see that it was fully dark outside. “What time is it?”
“Late. Everyone else has been up for hours.”
The thing about sleeping in a coffin is that it completely fucks up your sleep/wake cycles. I mean, they’re designed for the dead. If you’re going to sleep in one, you need a familiar to wake you up. I’d forgotten that part. Also, they’re not that comfortable—no mattress andtinypillows.
“Who’s here?” I said.
“Heaven and your therapist.”
“Where’s Tyrone?” I asked. “Is he okay?”
“Of course he is.” Vlad looked insulted. “I’m not a monster, Tiffenie.”
Then why had he outbid me? Why did he take Tyrone home? At the very least, he was a jealous monster.
Even hundreds of years into this existence, stepping out of a coffin felt like too much. Like wearing a cape to the grocery store, or pure white foundation and too much dark eye makeup in high school. Everything associated with vampires was too much, which was the core of my problem. There was no fitting in. I was too much. As practical as he believed himself to be, Vlad was even more than me.
Okay, the No Fear shirt was kind of extra too.
At the sight of my shirt, Vlad, his voice dry as toast, said, “I don’t know if you need to resurrect that trend.” He gave me a hand out of the coffin.
“That’s too bad. There are enough of them for you and Heaven too. Jeff, I’m assuming, had a collection.”
