Disclaimer: Characters and setting belong to Charlaine Harris. I just decided to play 'What If?' with them.

Setting: 2000s, Louisiana

SVM Timeline: The glorious period during which Bill was seeking nirvana at Machu Picchu in Peru.

Shortly before eight I was sitting in my car in Fangtasia's parking lot. Since I hadn't had time to change, I still wore my Merlotte's uniform—a long-sleeved t-shirt and black slacks. Hopefully Eric and Pam wouldn't mind that my outfit smelled slightly of stale beer and hot wings. Bill had an extra sensitive nose and always seemed to smell everything, including if I'd hugged anyone since my last shower.

From where I sat, I could see Pam checking IDs at the door. Anxious to get started, I had one more task to do before I went inside. I knew my brother Jason would have a fit if he found out I was taking a leave from Merlotte's from someone else, so I hit his number on my cell phone.

"Hel-lo." My brother had a way of stretching out his greeting in a playful way. Even without recognizing the incoming number, his default setting was on 'flirt.'

"Jason, it's me."

"Ah, hey, Sook." His voice took on a normal tone. "What's up?"

"I've been meaning to tell you something, but I've been kind of busy." The job had only surfaced yesterday, but I figured I'd let him think it was something that had been brewing for a while.

"Yeah? What's up?"

"I'm taking a little time off from Merlotte's."

"Oh yeah? What've you got going on?"

"I took a different job. In Shreveport."

"What? I thought you liked working at Merlottes's." Bless his heart, my brother sounded genuinely shocked. I felt a pang of warmth towards him. He really did understand how I felt about my job.

"Oh, I do! I love it! I just took something else to help a friend. It's temporary. I'll be coming back to Merlotte's. Sam knows."

"Uh-huh," I could practically hear the wheels turning in Jason's head. I rushed in with the story I'd concocted for him before his brain had a chance to go into overdrive.

"Thing is I didn't want to explain the whole thing —you know how folks talk. I didn't want anybody saying anything about me or making up rumors that I'd got fired or something like that. So I said I was taking time off to take a class over at the community college."

"Oh," Jason replied and then fell silent. Usually Jason's sense of self-absorption kept him from asking a lot of questions. Although, even if Jason didn't press me for more details, it had occurred to me that it might just be a good idea to tell him the truth. Wavering on my decision, his next words took me by surprise. "There any other reason you don't want folks to know the truth, Sook?"

I sighed. Nine times out of ten, my brother's skills of perception could rival those of a bathmat. Of course, this would be one of his ten percent moments.

"I'm going to be working at the El Dorado. I'll be helping out with coordinating some special events they have going on this week."

"Ah," he paused. "Why am I getting the feeling there's more to this, Sook?"

Jason must've eaten his Wheaties this morning. Or I sounded tenser than I thought.

"It's a partially vamp-owned hotel and there's some concern about all the events they have going on. I'm going to use my gift to listen in."

"Uh-huh." We fell into a pregnant pause. He seemed to be searching for the right words. "Sook, you really going to get paid for that?" Apparently, he hadn't found them.

Until Bill walked into my life, it hadn't occurred to me that I could get paid for using my 'quirk.' A curse in more ways than one, to me, it was a constant stream of chatter—forever interfering in my life. To others, it was proof that I was crazy. Jason, of all people, ought to have an inkling of how useful my gift could be. I'd used my telepathy to uncover the truth that it was Rene Lenier who was murdering the single, sexually adventurous women of Bon Temps. This population, of course, coincided with many of Jason's former girlfriends and one-night stands making him a prime suspect in the killing spree.

"Yeah, Jase." I didn't know what else to say.

"Wow." He sounded impressed. "I'm surprised. How much they paying you?"

Leave it to Jason to go from making me feel supported to making me feel used in less time than it takes to swat a fly.

"That's none of your business."

"C'mon, Sook. How much?"

"No, Jason. None of your business."

"I need new tires for the truck—"

"And you got a job with Renard Parish that pays you fine."

He was quiet for a moment.

"All right." Thank goodness for small favors. Sometimes even Jason knew when enough was enough. "So, when're you starting your new job?"

Welcome subject change.

"I'm going over there tomorrow. I might be working tomorrow for all I know. I might start on Friday."

Jason whistled. "Who are you working for?"

I hesitated on that. I already told him I'd be working at the hotel. When I had dated Bill, I'd periodically wondered how much I ought to share with Jason about the region's vampire political hierarchy.

"It's Bill's boss and…" I struggled with how to describe Pam—I didn't want to get into explaining the whole maker-child dynamic "…his partner."

"They gay?"

I rolled my eyes. A little knowledge could be a dangerous thing with Jason. He'd obviously been listening to some news lately.

"No, Jase," I sighed. "Sometimes partner just means partner."

"Oh, sure." His thoughts had already moved elsewhere. "Hey, you going to check in with anyone?" He paused. "You know? While you're over there?"

It took me a moment to grasp on to what Jason meant. Then it took me another moment to get over my shock. Our relationship wasn't the greatest. Jason could be stubborn as a mule and selfish as a tomcat. But I always appreciated when he let me know he cared. Like in this instance.

"Uh, I can give you a call once a day. Maybe when I get home. Just to check in."

"That might not be a bad idea." He seemed to mull that over. "Whose phone is this by the way?"

"It's the cell phone they gave me for work."

"You get to keep it?"

"I doubt it. It's just for when I'm working. So my boss can get in touch with me."

"That's Bill's boss?"

"Yeah, that's Bill's boss." Internally shrugging, I made up my mind. It wasn't like Eric wasn't known in the area. Fangtasia did a lot of business. "His name is Eric Northman and he owns the vamp bar in Shreveport."

"Fangtasia?"

"Yeah."

"On Industrial Drive?"

"Yeah," I was starting to get a little concerned by Jason's level of interest. I only trusted his motives of brotherly protectiveness so far. "Jase, there's no need for you to go to Fangtasia. I'm going to be at the hotel, remember?

"Yeah, I get that, sis. Just wanted to know who your boss is."

I wasn't sure if I bought Jason's explanation, but I figured I really didn't have time just then to pursue it. I'd already caught Pam glancing over at my car a few times.

"All right, Jase."

We spent a few minutes doing what Jason and our gran used to do, "catching up." It really was just gossiping. Aside from my own situation, I didn't have much to offer. I told him that Hoyt and Kevin were watching the Captains game at Merlotte's (which Jason already knew). I told him his most recent ex, Liz Barrett, was not at Merlotte's (fear that she'd be there was why Jase didn't meet up with Hoyt and Kevin). Since he hadn't caught up with the local news yet, I gave him a brief recap of the explosion in Shreveport. Not wanting to get into a discussion, I left off the part about the bomb being found at the El Dorado. My mind wandering, I was drawn back by the sound of my brother saying my name.

"Sook, can you believe that?"

"You mean about Kevin's magazine?" "Kevin's magazine" was the only other phrase I'd caught in the past minute.

"Yeah," he sounded pretty shocked. "They don't give the full recipe, but they list all the ingredients! Anyone can just go to a drug store, pick this stuff up and play around and then you got yourself a bomb!"

My mentioning the explosion on the news must have led us on this path. Curious, it seemed like a relevant question to ask.

"What did you say the name of the magazine was?"

"I don't remember exactly. It had 'Security' in the title. Kevin gets a ton of homeland security and police magazines."

We both fell silent after this. My brother had run through his topics and I'd just run out of steam, so it seemed like the natural end to the conversation.

"I'd best get going, Jason."

"Yeah, Sook," he paused. "Be careful, sis."

Startled, I was silent for a second. "Yeah, I will be."

"Remember to call me."

"Ah ha. I will."

"Okay, then, I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Yep. Bye."

Click.

It was still early and as it was only Wednesday night, there shouldn't have been much of a crowd at Fangtasia. After giving my hair and makeup a quick onceover in the rearview mirror, I finally got out of the car and made my way to the club entrance. Arriving at the end of the line, I stood and waited.

Pam glanced up and saw me.

"Sookie." Pam called. "No need to wait. Come."

Conscious of the fang-bangers' stares, I abandoned my place on the line to approach Pam.

Pam, Eric's child, appeared to be about 19 or 20, although in actuality she was somewhere around 200. With her straight blonde hair, big blue eyes, and milky complexion, my first impression of her had been that of a sweet-looking milkmaid. With her fangs extended, it made for a bizarre contrast.

Since Fangtasia was a tourist bar that catered to humans, the vampires on staff dressed to look the part of vampires. Tonight Pam was wearing a black mermaid gown with flowing pendulum sleeves. When not at work, Pam's personal preferences were geared more towards pastels and prim-looking twinsets.

"Sookie, my friend," Pam smiled at me, fangs down. I used to find it pretty unnerving. I guess it's a testament to how far I've come, that the sight no longer bothers me?

"Hi Pam."

"You are not wearing your shawl from the Were. I should have reminded you to wear it."

Pam, like Eric, had a healthy sense of humor. One thing she really seemed to get a kick out of was teasing Eric. You'd think after a couple hundred years it would get old, but no. My shawl, which had been a gift from Alcide Herveaux, was apparently the best ammunition to tease Eric with since Hagar the Horrible.

"Pam, it's winter. I'm wearing my winter coat."

"Yes, I see that." Looking at it, Pam made a face letting me know exactly what she thought of my winter coat. Suddenly her face brightened. "We will order you a new coat."

"Pam, I can't take gifts like that."

"Sookie, do not be ridiculous. It would not be a gift. If anything, sparing others the affront of seeing that abomination is a gift to all."

What? I glanced down at my coat. It wasn't that bad!

"Pam, my coat's not that bad! You're exaggerating."

"Maybe. Maybe not," she shrugged as she handed a license back to a patron and gestured for them to walk inside. "We will discuss this later." Pam smiled again. "In any case, we have a rather full agenda for you this evening. Eric has a small task he'd like you to do before we sit down to discuss your job."

This 'small task' was a surprise. I didn't care much for surprises. When half the people in your life are vampires, not liking surprises probably wasn't a bad credo to live by.

"What small task?"

"Sookie, it is so small, it barely merits attention."

"But, it's something you want me to do, so it's obviously important."

Pam stared at me. "I do not care for circular logic."

I was just pointing out the obvious. Not sure what Pam was talking about.

Pam glanced over her shoulder to peek inside the bar. "Belinda," she called.

A dark-haired woman wearing eyeglasses and dressed all in black joined us.

"Yes, Pam?"

"Bring our friend to Eric."

"Yes, Pam." Belinda turned to me. "Ma'am?" Belinda stood patiently waiting for me to follow.

"Go with Belinda," Pam instructed me. Nodding, I walked past Pam through the door and started to follow Belinda to the club's main floor.

Not yet ten feet inside the building, I heard Pam.

"Sookie!"

I turned back to look.

"Tell Eric you could not wear your shawl because it requires repair as the Were tore it off you in the heat of passion."

I rolled my eyes. That Pam.

Following Belinda to the main floor, I was again conscious of more than a few eyes passing over me. I'm not used to getting much attention. Trying to ignore it, I worked doubly hard keeping my shields up. Listening with my ears not my mind, it seemed the music was a bit different from what they typically played at Fangtasia. I figured I'd ask my scout.

"Belinda?"

"Yes?"

"They don't usually have this kind of music, do they?"

"Early on in the evening, sometimes we have themes."

As Nirvana's "Penny Royal Tea" ended and the Beatles' "You've Got To Hide Your Love Away" started, I wondered what the heck the theme could be.

"What's the theme?"

"Dead lead singers."

Silently I nodded. Distracted by the music, all of a sudden I found myself standing in front of Eric's booth.

An exotic-looking girl with cascading brown hair sat next to Eric, laughing. Gorgeous, she was wearing a sleeveless silver top that set off her grey eyes. Feeling vaguely like I'd had the wind knocked out of me, I fixed my eyes on the floor.

"Leave." My head sprang up and my eyes locked onto Eric's. He was telling the girl to go.

The girl—not a Fangtasia staffer as far as I knew, but not really your typical fang-banger—got up to leave, throwing me a dagger-filled look as she did. I caught the word "bitch" from her brain and redoubled my efforts to block out the voices. Plastering a smile on my face, I nodded awkwardly as the sullen girl let herself out of the booth.

Letting out a breath, I focused on the melody of the song. My parents had been Beatles fans so it was a song I associated with my childhood.

"Sookie?"

Drawn out of my reverie, my eyes shot to Eric who was watching me intently.

"Would you like a drink?"

I noticed Belinda was still standing next to me waiting to take my order.

"Maybe a ginger ale."

Eric nodded at Belinda and she took off. I settled into Eric's booth and attempted to firm up my shield. My encounter with Eric's "friend" hadn't helped my efforts.

Shutting my eyes, I ignored Eric and just focused on the song. When it ended, I opened them to find clear blue eyes staring intently into my own.

"Sookie, you are distressed?"

I'd never thought of it that way. It was kind of like living with a chronic yet non-life threatening health condition. It's a nuisance. You'd really rather not have it. But you get used to it.

"I'm fine."

"No," his eyes pierced mine. "You are not."

I sometimes forgot that I'd had more than a sip of Eric's blood. Aside from being the ultimate in semi-organic pick-me-ups, drinking a vampire's blood allowed the vampire to know things about you. Aside from whatever I might tell him, Eric had his own little peephole into my feelings. Although I had a track record of being able to beat his vamp lie detector, I got the feeling that Eric wasn't going to buy any denials from me right then.

"Um, it's just...the woman who was sitting here before..."

"Yvetta."

"Yeah. She doesn't like me."

Eric seemed to find that curious.

"You got that from her brain?"

"Yep."

"What else did you get?"

"Oh, I don't want to talk about it. I'd rather forget about it, actually." I could feel my cheeks flush. Eric had had sex with her and fed off her.

Eric raised an eyebrow at my comment. He knew what I was referring to, of course.

"I am a man, Sookie."

"I'm fully aware of what you are."

"I wonder that that's true," he replied. "This ability of yours clearly has certain advantages, but I wonder that it doesn't have disadvantages as well."

As far as I was concerned my "gift" provided maybe 90% disadvantages and 10% advantages—and that 10% had to do with not being able to be glamoured. So if I had never met any vampires, there would have been no upside to my "gift" at all as far as I was concerned.

"Eric, it's mostly disadvantages," I said. "I can hardly hear myself think sometimes."

"No," he paused. "That is not that type of disadvantage I am referring to…" He looked off at the dance floor. I could tell he was contemplating what he perceived as the pros and cons to my "gift."

Just then Belinda returned with our drinks. I took the lull in our conversation to ponder Eric's words—not his comment about my gift, but his odd remark about my not being fully aware of what he was. I felt like I didn't have a clue as to what he was referring to, but I figured after he'd taken a few sips from his True Blood, Eric would pick up where he'd left off. I was surprised when he changed the subject altogether.

"How did the shifter take the news? Do I send a waitress out to his bar?"

Running my fingertips over the length of my straw, my eyes were focused on my glass. Without thinking and without shifting my gaze, I snorted a reply.

"He's fine. He's not happy about it, but then, again, anyone who cares about me wouldn't be happy about me getting caught up in vampire shit again."

Eric raised an eyebrow at my curt comment. "His staffing situation is adequate?" He gave me a half-smile. "I could send Yvetta…"

I looked up sharply at him. "No," I kept my voice even. "He's got it covered."

Satisfied, Eric nodded. "Did Pam tell you of your other task?"

Hmmm, oh yeah. That.

"She just said there was a small task I needed to do before we talked about the job."

"Yes," he nodded. "I have another new employee." He sipped his blood. "I believe I can trust him, but why should I guess," Eric threw me a pointed look, "when I have a telepath?"

Okey-dokey. I took a sip of my soft drink.

"What kind of new employee?"

"I have hired a daytime man."

"A daytime man?"

"Yes. Some vampires hire humans to tend to business matters that must be conducted during the day."

Hearing Eric's explanation, I couldn't help but think it sounded like a reasonable enough thing. I had—months earlier—acted as a daytime man or daytime person for Bill, making calls to electricians and other contractors when he was having upgrades done to his house. Considering how much Eric seemed to have going on—with Fangtasia and El Dorado—it seemed curious that he had managed without a daytime person as long as he had.

"How come you don't already have one?"

Eric polished off his blood and looked at me.

"Many if not most transactions can be completed by computer these days. A few cannot. In the past, I have contracted lawyers and other consultants to secure business dealings. Now I find myself..." Eric seemed uncharacteristically at a loss for words as his gaze settled on me. I couldn't help but think that his blood may run cold, but, in that moment, I could've sworn I felt waves of heat rolling off him. Tearing my eyes from his, I looked down at my glass. "I find myself wanting to free up some time in my schedule. Hiring a daytime man is to help meet this goal."

Oh. "What do you want me to ask him?"

"I'll trust your judgment on that. I've checked his references. I don't doubt his experience. I just need to confirm his intentions."

Suddenly Eric climbed out of the booth. Glancing around Fangtasia, I realized how many people—men and women—had their eyes glued to him. Casually I glanced at what he was wearing. It was his usual outfit of jeans and t-shirt, but few filled a pair of jeans and t-shirt better than Eric Northman. Realizing my eyes were lingering a tad too long, I shifted my eyes to the dance floor.

"Are you excited, Sookie?"

"Um, sorry?" I really needed to stop letting my mind wander around Eric. I hated getting caught off-guard around him.

"Are you excited to be using your gift?"

I hadn't actually thought of it in that way until Eric posed the question. Surprised, I realized I was excited. I was excited by the sense of power and control I felt when using my gift. Glancing up at Eric's face, I could tell by his smug expression that he knew it too.

"Come, Miss Stackhouse," Eric raised a hand out to me. "Time to clock in," he grinned.

Taking his hand, I returned his smile before remembering I should have given him an earful over the whole Barbie thing.

Later, I thought. I'm going to just enjoy this moment.

AN: I know I went off SVM canon with Yvetta but I needed a femme fatale. She is not a cardiologist. For the record, the Beatles' "You've Got to Hide Your Love Away" is a lovely song. Song and lyrics are on my blog. My favorite Ch 4 line: "I do not care for circular logic." That Pam.

As always, thank you for reading. Comments welcome. Patience appreciated.