I liked to think I had a decent concept of right and wrong, but that doesn't mean I always do the right thing. Like killing my mother for example; that was wrong, although I'd be lying if I said it didn't feel right.
That's what got me here, on a flight to Louisiana, far from the comfort of home. My father had gone into hiding and the rest of the pack severed their ties to me for their own safety. It was an understandable course of action, but it hadn't truly sunk in just how alone I was until the plane touched down. I watched the people I had sat with for hours reanimate and run to their loved ones with smiling faces and open arms. All I had was a cab driver who didn't seem pleased to have been working on a Saturday.
An hour and a half later—thanks to traffic—I was dropped off in front of my new home. I hadn't gotten the chance to see the place before I moved in and the real estate site's blurry, odd-angled photos did it no justice. The house was fairly small compared to the surrounding homes but made up for its size in curb appeal. A fresh coat of light blue paint had recently been applied to the exterior and the driveway repaved. Vibrant flowers flanked the front steps and I sighed; just another thing I'd have to make sure didn't die.
I pulled the key I had been mailed weeks earlier from my bag and walked inside, surprised to find that it was fully furnished. There were appliances and furniture in there that I could have never afforded on my own. It looked like something out of an interior design magazine, one that I remembered my former employer having, and I suddenly felt out of place. The agent was right when she said my land lord was generous with all of his tenants, but this was too much; if my years had taught me anything, it was that if someone was being this nice, chances were you were going to owe them something in return. And I didn't like doing favors.
With the thought pushed aside, I set about unpacking the few things I had brought with me. My bag contained only the essentials, the rest of which I would have to eventually buy. One could only wear the same three outfits for so long.
At the bottom of my bag sat a prepaid phone given to me by my father before leaving. It had only two numbers programmed into it—no names, only initials—and there was a message from one of them.
Your brother's been looking for you. Came around your dad's place with someone, guessing it was a vamp. Lay low, call if you need anything. Don't forget about the care package.
g.m
More so than my own blood, I could always count on Giles to have my back. I had forgotten about the package he shipped the moment he discovered where I would be moving to for the time being. My own gifts could keep me safe enough, but eventually I would need to rely on his if anyone caught wind of my location, and without transportation, there was no way I could pick up the package. I needed a car.
. . .
After skimming through the phone book tucked away in one of the kitchen drawers, I called for a cab and headed out. The drive was short enough, only fifteen minutes or so, and after driving up and down the block several times I found myself standing outside of someone's home, eyeing the junker parked in their driveway. It was an old Toyota with more dents than I could count, with numerous scratches etched into the red paint. My old job had given me enough money that I could afford something far better than this, but with a limited supply of cash and no access to credit cards, I didn't have much of a choice. It was either this or keep shelling out money for cab rides. And living in a rural area where there were miles between each semblance of civilization, I'd be broke by the end of the month.
Before I had gotten halfway up the uneven concrete path the front door opened, unleashing the sound of rowdy, fighting children and a baby that was shrieking like a banshee. This was one of the times I cursed having sensitive hearing.
A woman stepped out from the home with said crying baby on her hip. She smiled and I could tell it was forced; it never reached her eyes, and the frustration she felt was tangible. I guessed she was a single mother struggling with however many kids she'd managed to pop out, and that rust bucket parked a few feet away was the only thing standing between being flat broke and having enough to last another week.
I almost felt obligated to buy the car from her.
She pushed a strand of her red hair behind her ear and offered her hand. "Hi there, sorry about the baby, he's a little fussy after his naps. My name is Arlene. Are you here for the car?"
"Riley," I said, "and yes I am."
"Oh good. That car's been sittin' in the garage for as long as I've lived here. Figured it was about time to get rid of the damned thing." she said, staring at the vehicle with just a hint of contempt in her gaze. "You new here? I couldn't see any other reason someone would buy that willingly."
I laughed. "Yeah, I just moved here on Saturday. I live in Shreveport, actually. I left my car back home and needed something in the meantime. How's it run?"
"Surprisingly good. My husband had it out all day and there were no problems to speak of. Aside from the smell." Arlene grimaced.
I raised a brow. "The smell? Nothing died in it, right?"
"Oh no, it's just a little musty. Leave the windows open for a while and it should be fine." she said. "So, are you interested?"
The red head looked hopeful and even the car looked desperate to be bought. Gleaming in the bright sun light, blinding me in the hopes of hiding its imperfections just long enough that I would be tricked into taking it off her hands. But I didn't need to be tricked, and I reached into my pocket for the wad of cash I kept tucked away.
Her eyes widened. "Jesus. The only time I've ever seen that much money was on TV; what do you do for a living?"
"I was a private chef for a long time, made a decent bit of money. This is all I have left over from it though." I said.
"Well hey, if you're looking for work, Merlotte's is hiring. They could always use an extra hand in the kitchen. I'm a waitress there myself."
"First a car and now a job opportunity; you're a godsend, Arlene." I said.
She smiled. "I wouldn't say that, but you seem nice, and it's a great place to work. Why don't you come down later? We're all getting together for drinks and maybe you can talk to Sam, see if he'll take you on."
The money I had amassed for this impromptu vacation was sure to run out sooner or later. Dipping into my savings was not an option so, for now, I'd have to find another source of income. I couldn't return to my old line of work—dealing with vampires was far too risky, as there was no telling who was friends with who. Working in a presumably all human establishment would give me the sense of normalcy that I needed, and getting back in the kitchen would help to take my mind off of things. I could use the distraction; staying in the house would drive me crazy, and it wouldn't be long before I'd wind up gnawing on the furniture. Or putting my head through a wall.
Given how long I had neglected shifting, it'd be the former. My furniture was far too nice to suffer that kind of of abuse.
"What the hell, I could use a night to let loose." I said and smiled as her eyes lit up.
"That's great. Let me run in and grab the keys and I'll write down the directions, too." Arlene half-jogged up the steps and back into the house. As she closed the door I watched her hand the baby off to a disembodied set of arms—her husband or another child maybe—and a few minutes later she returned.
Arlene jingled the keys while she walked and handed them over while I paid her for the car.
"You are now the proud owner of a Toyota that's probably older than you are." Arlene said. "My Terry's going to be so happy to have all that space freed up in the garage now. I think you did us a favor, too."
"It's the least I could do. Thank you, though. It'll be great to leave the house finally."
"Oh, you're welcome. I do hope you can make it later on, I think you'll hit it off with the rest of the gang."
"I look forward to it. I have some errands to run, but I'll definitely be there. It was nice meeting you, Arlene."
We said our goodbyes and I left with the instructions to meet up at Merlotte's around seven pm, which left me plenty of time to run errands and pick up Giles' package on the way back.
I pulled out of the driveway and by the time I reached the end of the block I had to open the windows. She wasn't kidding about the smell. It was almost unbearable.