Chapter 3:

"Hello? Yes? I'm looking for someone."

The little voice says gruffly, "Who?"

I hate this part. Always have. Always will- this not knowing. This blind searching. Some days I just want to give up, but then I'll see some buisiness card or some sign and I give it one more shot. I promise myself this will be the last time. I won't do anymore searching after this. Maybe it's just fate that I don't find him. Maybe it was someone else's future. I clear my throat and say, "I'm looking for a Sam Carnegy? He tends bar during happy hour."

The man on the other side of the phone laughs, "Ah, Sam. What the boy do now, Miss? We really can't be accountable for the actions of our bar tenders."

I laugh. I laugh and I just can't stop. After endless months of searching, I've finally found this Sam. Finally, I've found the future. I say breathlessly, "Thank you. Thank you so much!" I'm grinning ear to ear when I turn to Lucy and Will. I say to them, "They have him. Sam is there. The Bayside Bar has him!"

Lucy comes up to me and hugs me. She smiles at me, "I'm so glad you've found him." Will comes up and pats me on the shoulder. Lucy glares at him; she's always been very possessive, especially if he tries to touch me. I'm not sure what's wrong with her these days. She's been acting strange-very shifty.

I smile and plunge into the cushions of the couch, "It's finally coming true. It's finally happening!" We've been living in the abandoned warehouse over on Jersey shore. It was old and dusty when we got here, but now it's home.

Lucy sits beside me, crossing her legs. She's always very prim and proper. Her slight accent billows (she's slightly Transylvanian, very cliché, I know) as she asks me simply, "Now what?"

I sit up, dismayed. I'm shocked that I've even found him. I've doubted it so much that I haven't even thought about the next step. How do I stay there but not seem suspicious. How can I be there everyday? Realization dawns on me and I say with certainty, "I get a job." She gasps at me in wonder. We always try to avoid humans. Actually trying to fit in? It is almost automatic give away. I say with a steely conviction that surprises me, "I can do this, Lucinda. I know I can. I HAVE to. I need to do this." She shrugs, seeing no point in arguing with me.

The next day, I drive over to Bayside Bar. I've researched this, and I believe the dress I'm wearing suits the job. It cuts across the middle of my thigh, and it accentuates the slight curves of my body, revealing enough to keep drunk guy talking (and looking). I get out of my Cadillac and walk up to the double doors, head held high. I go straight to the manager's office. The man sitting there has black hair and piercing black eyes. He is shrewd and mean-looking. It intimidates me, but I shake it off saying in a commanding voice, "I'm here for a job."

He nods and stares at me, but not at my eyes. I know what he's looking at. Crossing my arms, obstructing his view of me, I say, "Hello?"

He clears his throat as he stares at my face, awestruck. This gets tiring sometimes- the human male gender's inability to speak normally with me. He finally says, "Yes, um, well, uh, we ARE hiring a position for someone of YOUR standing."

I nod and say, "Yes? What is it?"

His eyes widen at my annoyed tone and he says, "It, uh, comes with a, um, uniform." He then opens a drawer and pulls out a skimpy dress with way less fabric than the one I'm wearing now. "We need a performing act. Someone to sing and dance."

I nod, eyes downcast. I know what he means and wonder, "What have I gotten myself into?" I say aloud, "I'll do it."

He hands me the outfit and says, "You can start tonight around eight. Come early and bring music." I nod and saunter out the door, black leather in hand.

That night, I stand in my dressing room in front of the mirror, looking at myself feeling very scummy. I say aloud to my reflection. "Get over it. It's the 40's, not the 1800's." But the knowledge that I'd have to perform tonight in front of a crowd of you-know-what hungry men set my head spinning. Why did Sam have to work HERE? Why were all the bar tending positions taken? I pulled my robe on, shivering.

I take a look at my music. I was going to sing "Somebody To Love" and sing a duet with the male dancer, Patrick. The song was called, "Don't Go Breaking My Heart." This is all that'll sing tonight, and all that I can. I frown, disgusted with myself.

The night goes well, and I was a crowd favorite with my shimmying dance moves and twirls. I hear a knock on my door, and I pull my robe around me and announce, "Come in."

The manager comes swooping in grinning, "You were great. You are hired, Kid. Be here every night at eight o'clock. By the way, I'm Gary. And you are?" He appraises me, and I shiver under my robe. His gaze shakes me to the core.

I turn my back to him and say, "Mary. It's Mary." I can't stand to have my good name torn to bits in this place. I'll be Mary here and Alice everywhere else.

He escapes the room and throws over his shoulder, "Well, Mary. We're happy you're here. I have plans for you, Kid. You are going far."

I whisper, exhausted, "Good to know…" I then collapse into the chair.

The rest of the week was fine, as fine as a dirty dancer's job can be. I sang and I shimmied. I was whistled and hooted at. Patrick was nice, and we work well together. I wonder if I can change this around for me. I wonder if I can make this work…

Friday night, after the show, Gary comes to congratulate me on the performance. I swallow, getting up the nerve to ask my boss for something. I say in a tiny voice, "Um, Gary, Sir? I was, uh, wondering about the um, uniform."

He asks distractedly, "Yes? What about the uniform?"

"I was wondering if I could wear my own clothing to the show. You know, something I could be more comfortable dancing in? And Patrick and I were talking, and we were thinking that maybe we could just do duets from now on and you know? Like really dance, not you know, provoke certain arousals?"

Gary looked at me and his face softened for just a second. He cupped my face. He was probably forty or so. I could easily be his daughter, but I know he doesn't think of me in that sort of affection. "Mary, honey. You can try whatever you want. It just depends on how the audience likes it."

I jump up and hug him, purely out of complete exuberance. "Thank you so much! I won't let you down!" He seems taken aback, and suddenly my throat burst into flames and I'm on the other side of the room in an instance. I whisper, "Please. Get out. For your own good." He backs up, hands held in the air in a display of peace, and he runs out of the room, frightened for no reason he can consciously tell himself. I remember that I'm a vampire, and I give a deep sigh. I'll have to be more careful. Then I gasp as I am blinded.

A tall vampire is looking at me, smiling slightly. I am at ease with him. His blonde hair and crimson eyes are familiar, only I can't pinpoint it.

I smile at him and say smoothly, "Hello, Jasper. I'm happy to finally meet you. You've kept me waiting for a very long time, you know." His eyebrows shoot up, bewildered.

Then I am blinded again, and I fumble around me, my eyesight finally returning. I've seen him before. I wonder when I meet him. I shrug and go out my dressing room door. Just another question I frequently deal with.

The next week, during the day, Patrick and I spend the days practicing. Friday, we perform, and we are met by a chorus of "Boos." The men expect my usual sexy shimmying and acting with Patrick. I rush into my dressing room, and I want to cry, but I can't. What did I expect really? But I still hoped, and that's what did me in. I pick up my bag listlessly and go to the bar.

I plop down on a bar stool and lean my head on the table. Sam comes over. He's nice I guess, a little dumb and a womanizer, but he's okay. I say, "Get me a beer and keep it coming." I slap down a thirty dollar bill, figuring I'll stop by the time I reach thirty bucks worth of beer. He nods and a glass of bubbling gold is pushed toward me. Then I realize something. I can't drink. It doesn't appeal to me. This night will be etched in my mind forever and there is nothing I can do about it. Alcohol won't do a thing. I groan and close my eyes, hating myself.

Then the bell rings on the doors and I look up. The outside light from the floodlights blinds me for a second, but then I can see. I find crimson eyes underneath and a curtain of blonde hair staring at me, and I almost fall off my seat, which is really hard for a vampire to do, let alone me, a super graceful vampire. I gulp and my eyes widen, staring. Right in front of me is the guy who's been vision-stalking me- Jasper Whitlock, the hottest vampire I've ever seen.

I jump off my chair and smile brightly. Now I can't wait to remember tonight. "Hello, Jasper," I say, repeating what I said in my vision from memory. "I'm happy to finally meet you. You've kept me waiting for a very long time, you know." He looks at me, confused. I laugh effortlessly, enjoying the sensation of knowing everything would be fine.