Stephenie Meyer owns everything, although she might disown me if she gets a load of this little gem…

OK – I admit it, I got this idea from Vampires Suck, the Chinese Food delivery scene…

I would like to thank the fabulous betas, including Mel, at Project Team Beta for helping me with this story.

Chapter 1 – What's on the Menu?

The impatient voices from the crowded restaurant seemed to be coming at me from every direction.

"Order up!" called Sammy's voice from the back of the restaurant as he rang the little bell on the counter to get my attention.

"Miss, more water please," called a young woman with two fussy children sitting at a table in the front. The children were playing with the pull string of the restaurant's "Open/Closed" sign, which they kept flicking on and off.

"What's this supposed to be?" asked a well-dressed man in a pin-striped suit, gazing in disgust at a plate of Kung Pao chicken as I passed by his table with the water pitcher.

"I'll be right with you, sir," I replied as pleasantly as possible for the end of my five-hour shift.

Another night at Wong's Chinese Food. I had to keep reminding myself that though the tips weren't always great, I needed to keep my eye on the prize: getting through college.

To top it all off, Mr. Wong was upset. He was a good employer. In addition to being fair and paying us what he could, he knew we were college kids, and that we didn't always get great tips. He was OK if we had to sometimes stay home to study instead of working our scheduled hours, as he could ask his own daughter to cover the occasional shift. But at this moment, he was upset. His delivery guy's car had broken down across town, and he had just called in to advise us he was still waiting for the auto club. Now Mr. Wong had a big order, and no driver to deliver it.

Ready to kill any other diner who asked me for anything else, I looked up and said, "I've got my car. I'll take it for you, since it's near the end of my shift anyway."

Mr. Wong looked at me and then looked at the address again. "It's a hotel, and it's not in the greatest part of town," he said. "I'm not sure I want you down there."

Glancing at the address, I replied, "Mr. Wong, that hotel is two blocks from my apartment. I don't live in the greatest part of town. I'll take it over, and if would make you feel more comfortable, I won't go up to the room. I'll leave it at the front desk of the hotel. OK?"

He considered this for a moment and then shrugged. "It's a big order, and I can't afford to lose the customers or the revenue. You have car insurance, right?" he added as an afterthought.

"My dad's a cop. You think he would let me drive without it?"

"No, but do you pay your bills?" he continued. "If you're not paying your bill, the insurance expires."

I pulled out my insurance I.D. card and showed it to him.

"OK," he replied after looking at it carefully. "They're also asking for a bottle of tequila, sounded like some young guys. I could hear other voices over the phone. I'll go across the street and get it; you're too young. No argument, please. And you can take the rest of the night off, I'll pay you."

I carried the bags of take-out food to my beast of an orange truck, moving my papers, backpack and other junk out of the seat, while Mr. Wong went to the liquor store to purchase the booze. He handed it to me, thanking me again, and went back inside. I set off for my neighborhood.

When I got to Lowe's Hotel, I lucked out when I found a parking spot in front. Good, I won't have to lug this food very far, I thought with relief.

Entering the hotel, I walked up to the front desk where an older man with oily skin, greasy black hair, and a stained gray polo t-shirt glanced up at me. "I'm supposed to leave this for the Smith party," I told him.

"They're in room 505," he said.

"No, I'm supposed to leave it here," I replied firmly.

The clerk raised his eyebrows. "And how will you get your tip, then, girlie? 'Cause I'm sure not going to give you one. Not if you're just delivering food," he continued with a leer, raking me over with his eyes. Jerk, I thought. As if.

He had a point, though. No use passing up the opportunity for a tip. I walked over to the elevator, only to find a hand-written "Out of Service" sign taped across the front of the doors.

Great, just great, I thought. And 505 will be on the 5th floor. I found the stairwell and opened the door, nearly gagging on the smell of stale urine and other nasty stuff I didn't even want to think about. I started climbing, stepping over the used condoms and other litter, not daring to touch the banister that was covered with wads of gum, among other less identifiable items.

After what seemed an eternity in that stairwell, I finally reached the fifth floor.

I opened the door and walked down the faded carpeting that ran down the hall. The flickering lights of the dark hallway made finding the right doorway a bit of a challenge.

501, 502, 503, 504…yep, 505. Knocking on the door, I looked around, wondering why anyone would choose to stay in a place like this. As I heard the doorknob of room 505 move, I turned to face the slowly opening door, putting a smile on my face. Think of the tip, I told myself.

The door opened, but the lights inside the room were very low. A low chuckle came from the figure standing in the dark doorway.

"Well, this is unexpected," said a male voice with an exaggerated southern drawl. "Lookie what we have here!"

I started to get a bad feeling and decided to set the food on the floor, backing slowly away from the door.

"Sorry," said the voice, and the lights were switched on inside the room. "We had the lights down because my friend was…dozing." Leaning against the door, looking like sex on two legs, was a blond man in jeans and a vintage Zeppelin t-shirt that pulled nicely across his taut muscles.

Two more guys appeared in the entranceway, peering around the first one's shoulders. The second man was huge with dark curly hair, while the third had messy red-brown hair that looked almost bronze.

But what startled me the most was their eyes. I could swear that when he opened the door, the first man's eyes were red. Now they were black, just like those of his two friends. And the black eyes of all three of them were boring straight into me like knives.

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