Title: Counting for baby vamps... (1/2)
Author: camerashy06
Summary: Pam's used to running Fangtasia herself now, so when Tara offers to help lighten the managerial load, she begrudgingly accepts the offer. A decision she soon magnanimously regrets...
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The back office of Fangtasia was a haven for Pam on most nights. Despite the muffled bass sounds coming from the stereo system out in the main bar area, it was fairly quiet, which made getting her less than desirable work done a lot easier.
With Eric away from the bar most of the time now, her work duties had increased, but on the flip side, were very rarely interrupted. Except for the occasional stupid inquiry from Ginger, but the brainless blonde had quickly learned to figure out shit for herself.
Tara even kept her distance a good amount of the time. Of course, between bartending and dancing night after night, it didn't leave much time for socializing. Something Pam didn't stand for anyhow.
The three women had settled into a formidable way of running things, which seemed to keep the Tru Blood flowing, both vampire and human customers happy and the bar making a profit. As such, Pam had found little to be pissed about these days.
So, naturally, as she sat back behind her desk, rapidly flipping through receipts, a faint knock on her office door had her mildly intrigued. "It's open," she called out flatly, her head still down and fingers racing across the buttons of a calculator.
Pushing the door open just enough to slip her frame through, Tara entered and shut the door quietly behind her. Pam had a thing about slamming doors shut if the moment didn't warrant it.
Tara didn't speak. Instead, she stood there, transfixed by the movements of her maker. Despite Pam's overwhelming bad people skills, no one could say that she wasn't a hard worker, especially now that Eric had left the bar solely to her.
As she continued her ministrations, Pam could feel Tara's eyes drilling a hole into the side of her head. "What?" she groaned, stopping briefly to lift up and level an annoyed stare on her progeny.
The younger vampire took a few short steps forward and stopped. "The bar's clean, and everything's stocked," Tara stated, folding her arms across her chest. "You need help with anything?"
"What?" Pam echoed again, this time not as callously, but in slight disbelief.
Tara rolled her eyes and sighed heavily. "I'm not asking you knit a fucking quilt, so don't look so shocked," she shot back, taking a few more steps toward her maker's desk.
Whether or not Pam wanted to admit it, she was starting to like having Tara around. Not only that, but seeing as her progeny was always doing things - whether she was asked to or not - was a rarity the older vampire was still trying to get used to.
Perplexed by the blonde's silence, Tara let out a huff of frustration and reached out to snatch a sheet off of the desk before Pam could stop her.
"Get your fucking grubby hands off; that's important shit," Pam warned sternly. "Knowing you, you'll lose it or drench it blood since you can't seem to properly clean your chops off after feeding."
Ignoring Pam, Tara scanned the piece of paper. "What is this anyway?" she asked bewildered as she brought the paper closer to her face in an attempt to read it more clearly. "Who the hell wrote this? You can't make out any of the damn words."
In a nanosecond, Pam stood up and yanked the sheet out of Tara's hands. "None of your fucking business, y'hear?" Eying Tara harshly before sitting back down in her chair, the blonde opened up a side drawer and slid the paper in before slamming it shut. "Isn't there some poor pathetic excuse of a human wandering around that you can go fondle with your fangs?"
"Why do you always do that?" Tara inquired somewhat innocently, reaching down to swirl her fingers around a cup full of pencils.
Pam let out annoyed breath and smacked Tara's hand away. "Do what?" She was trying to get back to her previous work, but apparently her progeny intended on making that as difficult as possible.
"Deflect," the younger vampire replied quickly. "I know you're all dead inside and stuff, but havin' no feelings makes you look like a cold raggedy bitch."
That got Pam's attention. "Need I remind you," she started, leaning forward to lock her eyes with Tara's, "I can toss your ungrateful ass around this room like a rag doll just to tickle myself pink." Pam ran her fingertips smoothly across the top rim of the accented leather corset she was wearing. "And I love pink."
Tara pushed in further leaving only a few inches between her face and Pam's. "I ain't afraid of you," she stated in a low, even voice.
Pam's eyebrow quirked up in intrigue. Although it was agitating ninety percent of the time, Tara's stubborn streak was one of the things she was coming to love most about her progeny. She rarely took 'no' for an answer. It probably had something to do with the fact that Pam was the exact same way, which tended to make their arguments escalate a lot quicker.
Not a willing participant in the sport of giving in, Pam thought for a few long, hard seconds before succumbing to her better judgment. The truth was, if she had any shot in hell at being done with her workload on time, she needed help. Something it pained her to admit, especially to Tara. The blonde always prided herself on accomplishing tasks on her own. That, and she never really was good at asking for help. So, it was either concede or suffer through the rest of this ungodly long episode of twenty questions, packed on with the impending bleeds and it would make for one hell of a shitty night.
Pushing back off the edge of her desk, Pam dropped back down into her chair and flung open the same side drawer she had exposed minutes before. She retrieved the paper lying on top and rose to her feet, circling around to the front of her desk and coming face to face with Tara.
"Here," Pam ordered, her voice coated with about as much enthusiasm as a comatose human as she shoved the paper hard against Tara's chest.
Tara rolled her eyes dramatically before yanking the paper back up to her eyes. Peeved, she let her arms fall to her sides in protest. "I told you," she reminded, "I can't read this shit. It looks like some third grader wrote it during an earthquake." She raked her eyes over the document once more. "And who the hell writes in cursive anymore?"
Throwing a hand up on her hip, Pam let out a deep sigh. "My mistake," she said dryly, reaching out to grab the paper back - a task Tara didn't let her complete. "I thought you'd progressed past the third grade by now."
"You're a real fuckin' bitch sometimes, you know that?" Tara snapped back, trying to hide the smallest hint of a smile that was tugging at her lips. Pam's snarkiness had always been amusing, even though most of it was directed at her nowadays.
Pam let out a small chuckle. "Only sometimes?" The blonde smirked before retreating back behind her desk and descending back into her leather chair.
Growing impatient, Tara shoved the paper back down in front of Pam's face. "You gonna tell me what this is or I gotta guess?"
"Get that outta my face before I hang you upside down by your fuckin' bra straps," Pam demanded stiffly before attempting to return to counting her receipts.
After letting Tara stew anxiously for all of about thirty seconds, Pam glanced up at her progeny and locked her gaze. "It's an inventory list; Tru Blood and booze." she explained irritably. "You can count past five, right?"
"That depends," Tara countered, feeling a bold rush of confidence, "can you write like you're older than eight?"
That comment earned the younger vampire an icy glare from her maker. "Tara..."
"What?"
"Shut up."
Pam shifted her eyes back down to her paperwork before instructing her progeny further. "If you wanna get paid, you'll figure out how to read."
Tara released a groan of disapproval. "Why the hell couldn't you use that dumbass pink laptop to type this shit on?"
"I prefer the old-fashioned way when it comes to doin' most things," Pam explained, scanning Tara's form from top to bottom. "You'll figure that out soon enough..."
Figuring she may as well bite the bullet, Tara gave in. After all, she was the one who had asked Pam if she needed help in the first place. "Okay, so...what the fuck do I order?"
Tempted to snap her pencil in half in aggravation, Pam took a deep breath and composed herself before she went batshit on her progeny. "The column on the left," the older vampire began, pointing her right hand out to the side to mirror Tara's left side, "that would be this part of the paper...," she said brusquely.
Glowering at her maker, Tara pressed on, wanting more constructive answers. "And...?"
Pam scoffed irritatedly, letting her hands drop onto the desk with a poignant thud. "That column houses the number we have in stock now," she blurted out quickly. "The middle column is the number we need to have to get by and the far right empty column is the number we need to order." Pam relaxed back into her chair and crossed her legs, leveling her gaze on Tara. "Do you think that spaghettio thing you call a brain can handle that?"
The older vampire arched her signature eyebrow wanting verbal confirmation from her progeny. "Well...?"
"Yeah, I can deal," Tara replied nonchalantly, determined to prove to Pam that she wasn't as fucking retarded as her maker thought she was. "I'll have it for you in an hour."
"Thirty minutes," Pam countered in a demanding tone. "And you better buy a bra with sturdy straps if you fuck up. Good luck."
Tara gritted her teeth and forced a small smile. "Thanks for the moral support," she said tersely, turning on the balls of her feet and exiting out to the bar.
Sighing to herself, Pam didn't know whether to laugh or cry. She didn't cry, unless it was over Eric, but she had faith in Tara and by this point trusted her to some extent. It was an ordering form for booze...really, how fuckin' hard could it be to figure out?
-
Three days later...
-
"Tara!" Pam yelled out from the back room of Fangtasia. "Get your fuckin' semi-sweet chocolate ass in here, now!"
The younger vampire had been serving drinks behind the bar all night, but when she heard her maker's roar of anger, she vamp-sped to the back room in a flash.
She stopped before the closed door and took a deep breath. At least she can't kill your stupid ass, Tara thought, realizing that was the only silver lining in the surely unpleasant scenario that was about to unfold. But at least you kinda gott-
"Tara!"
The younger vampire gulped. Tara may have said that she wasn't afraid of Pam to her face, but the truth was that her maker scared her shitless on a few occasions. A quality Tara hoped to inherit some day.
"I will twist you into a pretzel and use you as a fuckin' Christmas ornament if you don't get back here in the next-"
Tara flung the back office door open, but she was nowhere near prepared for the scene that stood before her. Pam was going to kill her. Murder. Dead. Really dead.