"Yo, Be, you got the money?"
"Yeah, right here, Jimmy. Where's my shit?"
Sixteen-year-old Thisbe stood in the middle of a shitty apartment in an even shittier part of town with eight hundred dollars in the back of her high-waisted jean shorts waiting to buy an ounce of bud for her and her soul mate cooking back home. Be's skin was deeply tan, legs thick with a meaty rear end and breasts large underneath a visible black bra underneath a loose tie-dye muscle t-shirt with some summer camp from the 80's logo still on it. Her two-toned hair sat curled up into a messy bun on top of her head and slung on her shoulder was an old knapsack that made for easy transport. She had on her lucky converses that in three months had not gotten her stopped by any suspicious or horny officers. Her nose ring glistened in the light coming in through the cracks of the broken blinds slung over the open windows.
"Hold on, take a seat and don't move," Jimmy ordered, motioning toward the U-Shaped couch situated around the TV and coffee table.
Thisbe nodded and walked around the end to plop into the beaten down cushion that made it easier to sink and relax into her surroundings. She looked to the TV that was playing CNN and rolled her eyes away from the grim news. She caught a brief scent of something in the air and called out, "Is that cookies I smell? When did you start making Edibles?"
"They're not," she heard him call from the back room that she never ventured to and never wanted to venture to. Jimmy was cool but he wasn't that cool and she would never do anything to hurt her Pyramus.
"Oh," she shrugged as she leaned forward to look at the contents of the coffee table. On top sat a cool looking Zippo engraved with a nice design and she was tempted to take the thing but she knew something like that would not go unnoticed and she didn't want any tension between her and their guy. "If you do start making Edibles you know me and Ram are totally down for a bite."
"Of course you are," he smiled as he emerged from the room with a large party box of Gushers that she knew contained her real prize, "Y'all are my best customers."
She rolled her eyes, "Y'all."
He chuckled and she dropped the cash on the table as she opened her knapsack and grasped the box to place it inside, "It's gonna be a little tight for a while now. There's a snowstorm coming so my shipments have been gettin' weak."
"Snow? It's eighty outside?" she questioned, glancing out the window as she tied the bag's end and flopped over the top to lock it in place.
"No, it's thirty. And you're fucking crazy. My intel never lies anyway," he nodded his head solemnly (she thought it must be the fever then that's been sneaking up on her) before reaching out of his back pocket and throwing a seemingly normal water bottle, "By the way, that's on the house."
She unscrewed the top and took a whiff of the liquid, "What is it?"
"Water! Shit, you're worse than Ram," he laughed but she gave him the finger and headed for the door, "I'll see you in a few months, alright?"
"Yeah, yeah," she opened the door, "I'll see y-"
"Maritza Jimena Rodriguez!"
The voice thundered through out her entire being as she gazed into the eyes of the vampyre standing before her.
"Night has chosen thee; thy death will be thy birth. Night calls to thee, hearken to her sweet voice. Your destiny awaits you at the House of Night."
"Shit."