Dead Before Drama

Takes place in a world where vamps never came out of the closet. Sookie lands a part in a play and is besotted with her leading man. Eric Northman makes the perfect Dracula, but there's something about him she can't put her finger on. When a stranger named Vlad enters the scene and threatens Sookie and Eric, she is thrust into a world she never knew existed. Oh, and she also has a new neighbor named Bill who seems to pop up at all the right moments.

Chapter One

My name is Sookie Stackhouse. I'm from the South, so that should clear up any confusion about my name. Born and raised in Bon Temp, Louisiana, and I can count on my fingers and toes the number of times I've left the state. Before you go ahead and assume my life is simple or boring, I'll let you in on a few details: I'm an orphan, and I'm telepathic.

Don't let that fool you. My life is pretty ordinary, aside from my little handicap, as I call it. I work, I go to church with my grandmother, I shop at Wal-Mart. Maybe I sound casual about it, but I've lived with this ability for twenty-five years and I try not to make a big deal about it. It's not something I walk around talking about, but I do have a reputation around town for being a little different. That's putting it nicely.

It was my night off. I usually don't spend my nights off carousing in bars, because I happen to work in a bar and another bar is the last place I want to be on my only night off during the week. That being said, I was in a bar. The reason for this was sitting to my left with a huge grin on her face, my long time friend, Tara Thornton.

"Well, this sure is a step up from Merlotte's," she said as she happily sipped her neon green drink. "Wouldn't you say, Sookie?"

I smiled back, giving a little shrug. "They're not exactly an Appletini kind of crowd over there."

"I know that, but isn't this nice for a change?"

I took a sip of my own overly sweet martini, wishing I had just gotten my usual gin and tonic. "It's different," I admitted.

"You can say that again." She winked at a man a few bar stools down - shirt and tie, clean-cut, nine to five type, and definitely not the Bon Temps type. Tara wasn't normally a big drinker, so the two cocktails she's slurped down were going right to her head. She wasn't known for making everyday bad choices, but when it came to men, she tended to be a little impulsive.

We were sitting in a place called Olive's Martini Bar in Shreveport, and she'd all but insisted we go. She spent the entire forty minute drive explaining how we needed to broaden our horizons if we were ever going to find us some men with class. Bon Temps wasn't exactly a social hub, I had to admit, but I never once pictured myself with the sort of men we were looking at presently.

She'd heard about Olive's from a customer at her clothing store, Tara's Togs. The woman went on and on about the place and made it sound like the Taj Mahal. It was about the same size as Merlotte's, the bar I work at, but that's where the similarities ended. Merlotte's was our town's watering hole, everyone's old stomping grounds. It was a place you could get a burger with your mother or have a few beers with your coworkers. Many a relationship had begun and ended around the pool table, and nothing about it ever changed. Not the menu, not the customers, not the decor.

Olive's, on the other hand, was...well, it was clean. So clean and blue, like a hospital. Fluorescent blue lighting was everywhere and it gave the place a ghostly glow. Even my tan looked pasty under those lights. And the clientele was, let's just say distinctive. The men were nicer to look at and certainly better dressed than the Merlotte's crowd, but the kind of thoughts coming from their brains was no different from the ones that came from truck drivers and highway workers. And none of them were tapping anything tonight.

Okay, back to the telepathy. Simple Sookie Stackhouse - barmaid extraordinaire and Bon Temps High School grad - is telepathic. That means I can hear people's thoughts inside my head. No, I cannot tell fortunes, and no, I cannot move things with my mind. I am not psychic and I do not have ESP. I just hear people's thoughts, and though this is not a talent I brag about, it does come in handy sometimes.

"Remind me why I'm here again," I grumbled. I was beginning to feel grumpy.

"To socialize with people who don't hang animals on their walls," she replied, spinning around on her barstool and surveying the room. "And because you're my friend and you would never make me do this by myself."

"Oh. Right."

I watched, in mild horror, as she rested her elbows on the bar and thrust her boobs so far out that the buttons on her satin blouse threatened to pop off and fly across the room. "What about that one?" she questioned.

I turned around, not caring in the least about how obvious I appeared, to see her gaze set on a middle-aged man sporting a pressed shirt and an expensive haircut. I could sort of tell just by looking at him what sort of fellow he was, but I sent out my little metal feelers anyway. Look at her, fucking slut, she wants it so fucking bad I'd bend her over and shove it so -

"No. Not him."

Tara pouted. "Why not? He's cute enough."

"Trust me."

"Okay, well what about him?" She pointed to another guy with her chin, younger than the first, wearing glasses and looking very smart. But he also looked nervous. You're being paranoid, there's no one here you know just relax smile, don't forget diapers on the way home -

"Nope, not him either."

"Darn it, Sookie," she sighed, letting her chest deflate back to regular size. "I didn't ask you to come here to be some mental man magician."

My shoulders slumped miserably. "I'm sorry, I can't help it. It's so crowded in here, it's hard not to let some of it in." My shields, as I call them, are able to come up and down when I like, but crowds get kinda overwhelming sometimes. On a real busy day at Merlotte's, I'm just as tired mentally as I am physically.

"It's all right." She gave my hand a little pat, then stood up to straighten her skirt, which was a bit shorter than she was used to. "I gotta tinkle. Don't let anyone take my seat, unless he's hot and rich. And don't read any palms while I'm gone."

"Ha," I deadpanned. As I settled on my stool and adjusted my shirt, I regretted my own wardrobe choices. I had let Tar talk me into wearing the trampiest outfit I owned, which of course had been picked out by Tara from her store. I have no problem accentuating the positive when I dress, but the black skirt and red button-up halter top I was wearing borderlined on ridiculous. (Although I seemed to fit in just fine with the overdressed peacocks parading around Olive's.)

I'm normally not this negative. In fact, I pride myself on being a glass half full type of gal most of the time. And trust me, if anyone has a right to bitch about her life, it's me. I was just feeling sorry for myself on account of the fact that I didn't date much, which was my own personal choice, but being in a place like that made it even more obvious how different I was. Different isn't always all that bad, but it's usually pretty lonely.

Down went the Appletini.

I turned around and gave the room an idle once over, and didn't see a darn thing worth the drive or the extra effort on my make-up. Everyone sort of looked the same, like they were all in an Applebee's commercial, so it caught me by surprise when my eyes honed in on someone a little different. He was tall, and very broad across the chest, like he was a swimmer or gymnast. His ashy blonde hair was cropped on his neck and left a little shaggy on the top, so a few strands fell over his forehead. And I just knew by looking at him that the charcoal colored suit he was wearing was not off the rack from the Men's Warehouse. But it wasn't his appearance that stopped me short, though he was striking. It was the look on his face. He was serious while being completely at ease, like he could just sit there and not move for an hour, like the desperation whirling around the room didn't matter to him in the least.

A sudden smile covered his face and he lounged back in his chair, revealing a woman sitting next to him. And of course, she was completely gorgeous. Blonde like me, but more sophisticated than I could ever hope to be. Her suit probably cost more than my entire wardrobe, twice over. They looked lovely together and he was obviously out of my league, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from him. There was something about his cool demeanor and over the top looks that drew me to him. Before I over thought it, I sent out my little feelers to his brain and I got...nothing.

Nothing, a blank space where there should've been a mind.

Now, I've encountered people that I've had a hard time reading - hearing thoughts isn't that different from reading body language. Some people wear it on their faces and some people don't. Well, some people broadcast like a radio station, but not most. Sometimes I hear people's thoughts just like they were thinking in words, and sometimes the thoughts are shadowy and hidden away. With some people I see images or colors, and with others, like my boss Sam Merlotte, it's like reading a crumpled up wet newspaper. I can only see fragments of words or flashes of pictures.

But this was unlike anything I'd ever encountered; it was like a black hole in the middle of the room. So I did the only logical thing I could think of, being incredibly bored and one Appletini in - I pushed harder. I scrunched my eyes and concentrated, then pushed my feelers toward him like I wanted to knock him right onto the floor.

He turned his whole body and looked right at me. I blinked my eyes away, quickly examining one of my buttons on my shirt. After a minute, I dared a peek up and saw both of them staring at me this. Before I realized what I was doing, I stole a look into her head and saw another black hole. Her smoky eyes widened and she whipped her gaze over to the man, who was still staring a hole through me.

"Shit, shit." I quickly swiveled around and grabbed Tara's drink, the sticky contents spilling over my fingers onto the bar. "Shit."

I felt the air stir next to me, felt the empty blackness of a hidden mind, and I knew he was standing right there. So slowly I was barely moving, I turned my head to the right - uh yup, he was there alright, elbow resting on the bar, looking right past me like he didn't have a care in world other than looking like a Swedish football player. When he leaned in to order two glasses of wine, the unique scent combination of cedar, citrus, and smoky night air overwhelmed my senses. I looked him up and down, because let's face it, I was just plain ol' staring at him. He was easily over six foot, maybe closer the six four or five. Being that I'm barely 5'4", three of me could've easily fit into that suit he was gracing.

Maybe he felt me gawking at him, or maybe he didn't care, but he finally looked down at me. Brows arched into a question, the slightest smile curled up one side of his mouth. Like he was amused by me or something, like he was saying caught ya peepin'.

"OMG, look what I just found!" Tara bounced back onto her barstool and I realized I'd been holding my breath. She had a little piece of pink paper in her hand, like the kind you rip off the bottom of a flyer. "They're having auditions for Dracula."

I turned to her and blinked, distracted. "What?"

"The Shreveport Players. They're having auditions next week."

"So?"

Tara rolled her eyes as she took a big gulp of her drink, because she couldn't stand my apparent stupidity. This gave me a second to steal a glance over my shoulder, but the man was already on his way back to the table with the sulky blonde, who was now glaring at me like I'd left lipstick on his collar. I was actually glad at that moment I couldn't hear her thoughts, because I was pretty sure of what she was thinking.

"Remember that play we went to last spring with JB, the one his sister was in?"

"I remember that JB fell asleep three times and drooled on my pink cashmere sweater." JB was a friend of ours from high school, and one of the only guys I'd ever more than casually dated. It was easy to be with JD because he was a bit on the simple side and he was one of the only people that actually said exactly what they were thinking all of the time. He was truly a big love and one heck of a kisser, but not much of a conversationalist.

"This is the same place. They're having open auditions."

"What's that?"

"It means you can just show up and try out."

"Since when are you interested in being in a play?" I asked curiously.

"Since I'm bored with my life, Sookie," she complained. "And the last time I checked, you were too."

She was right about that. Aside from my usual job schedule and errand running, the only time I ever got out of the house anymore was with Tara or my grandmother. And seeing my brother Jason never qualified as time well spent because he usually only came over when he knew Gran was cooking up his favorite meal. My handicap, as I'm apt to call it, pretty much keeps me from making casual friendships. I mean, do you really want to know exactly what everyone is thinking of you all of the time? It's easier to just not know someone, for me at least. I know that sounds terribly pessimistic, but I have spent my entire life learning how to shut out the unwanted mental noise of the world around me. You try doing it for a while then see if you want to go bowling.

Tara went on. "The closet I've come to going out on a date in the past three months was that dinner thing with my new landlord the other day."

"Oh yeah, how did that go?"

She shrugged dismissively. Just the fact that I hadn't heard about him already pretty much told me exactly how it went. Tara didn't mean to make every man she met under the age of forty a perspective suitor, but settling down and having a normal life was the only thing that kept her going some days. After living with alcoholic parents and struggling to make something of herself, the white picket fence was her ultimate end story.

"It was okay, I guess, but it was just business. He's meeting with all of his new tenants," she said. "He was sorta...I don't know...creepy."

"Creepy?"

"I don't know, there was just something about him. It was like he wasn't even interested."

I couldn't help but smile. "You mean he wasn't interested in you?"

"Yes!" Dramatic sigh. "But handsome as all get out. He's got a real deep drawl, you know? And some charm when he wanted to turn it on. You met him yet?"

"No, I tried twice knocking on his door but there was no answer." I replied. "We're neighbors though, so we'll see each other eventually. What's his first name?"

"It says William on his card, but he told me to call him Bill."

"Bill Compton." The name slowly rolled off my tongue; I had to admit that I was curious to meet him. Old Jessie Compton had been our neighbor my entire life and I'd probably spoken to him three times before he died a few months back. When we'd heard another Compton was tasking over the property, Gran had hope for a friendlier acquaintance. I wasn't holding my breath.

"So will you come?" she asked.

"I don't know, Tara," I sighed. "I mean, Dracula? It's not like they're doing The Sound of Music."

"I think it'll be neat. Especially if the guy playing Dracula is hot. Dracula is always hot in the movies, isn't he?"

"If you're into vampires, I guess." I tried to sound like I was paying attention, but I was completely preoccupied, which isn't like me. I'm usually a very good listener, but I found myself trying very hard not to turn around and stare. I didn't dare try to read him or the woman again, but I could feel their eyes drilling into the back of my head.

"You'll come with me? I'll buy dinner. We'll go to the Crawdad Diner for fried green tomatoes."

I couldn't help it for a second longer. I turned around just a tiny bit and edged my chin over my shoulder. Part of me wanted to simply walk right up to him and ask him what was on his mind, since I obviously didn't have a clue. One glance would have to suffice though, because I was trying very hard to keep the crazy in.

He had something in his hand - the same piece of pink paper Tara had in hers. He showed it to the woman, and I saw her lips say Dracula? and then roll her eyes. He gave a simple smile and shrugged at her. When had he gotten up? I hadn't even see him walk by.

"Sook?"

"Alright," I said, turning back to her. "I'll go."

Tara gave a little triumphant clap of her fingertips. "Yeay!"

"But I'm not auditioning. I'm just going for moral support."

"Oh, thanks, Sook. Come on, it'll be fun."

I smiled encouragingly at her, but my mind was far away. One more look over my shoulder revealed an empty table. I looked around the room but there was no trace of either of them except for the two untouched wine glasses on the table and small slip of pink paper.

A/N: I'm psyched to be posting again folks! Hope you like this one, it's an idea that has been rolling around my noggin for a while. The next chapter is already underway, yeay! As always, feed my habit and leave a review!