This is really a bar for vampires, Caroline thought incredulously. Most of the vampires she had seen in Mystic Falls were, well, hot. But here, in Fangtasia, the story was completely different. Caroline knew her mom wouldn't even look twice at some of these dudes. A 60-year old looking, god-knows-how-actual-old guy in a leather vest brushed past her. Caroline shuddered and silently prayed none of his arm hair got caught in her sweater.
"What a fail," she said to herself.
She walked to the bar, sat in a stool and threw her purse on the counter. A woman with horrible roots and a too tight pleather tank walked over to her. "What'll ya have?" she asked. Caroline could see the gum peeking out of the bartender's mouth.
Caroline smiled politely and shrugged.
"I know what you want, sugar." The bartender winked. She bent down and placed a Tru Blood on the counter. She popped the top and slid it over to Caroline. "If you don't like it, it's on me."
Caroline couldn't help but smile. Free drinks were fun, especially when the giver did so of their own free will. "Thank you. What's your name?"
"Ginger. Oh, and it's at 98.6, give or take. Let me know if ya need anything." Ginger tapped the bar with her nails and walked to the other end. She slapped a guy's hand and leaned in, her boobs cascading out of her top. He kissed her cheek. She playfully pushed him away.
Caroline sipped the drink, trying to ignore the smells of bleach battling whatever it was trying to kill. The Tru Blood didn't taste exactly like blood, it wasn't as good as the bags from the hospital, but it wasn't bad either. She pulled out her phone and there were a multitude of texts, missed calls, voicemails from Klaus. Caroline stuck her phone back into her purse. She'd deal with him later. She texted Bonnie: Ugh we thought the Grill was bad … youll never guess where I am.
From the corner of her eye, Caroline felt someone staring straight at her. She dropped the bottle from her lips and saw another blonde standing behind the bar, arms crossed and a scowl on her face. Awkward much? Caroline thought.
The blonde looked past Caroline to the stage and shook her head at someone. Caroline turned around and saw a man, sitting in a chair on the stage with his legs crossed. He was not there before, but now, he was. Even though the man was sitting, Caroline could tell he would tower over her. He had the build of a football player – the quarterback, like Matt. But also, not like Matt. More mature than Matt. An obscenely dark, dated outfit polished off this man's bright eyes and dirty blonde hair. What is with this place? Everyone dresses like they stumbled out of 2001. Caroline, realizing she was staring, turned back to face the wall, pretending to read a poster while she shoved the Tru Blood bottle back into her mouth. Caroline placed the drink down. The new blonde stalked over and threw her drink into the trash.
"Hey!" Caroline said.
"You're done," she said. "Now leave." She threw her thumb at the exit.
Caroline thought of protesting, but nothing of consequence would happen here. The people were trash, and the bags of real blood were much better than the crap in the glass bottles.
"I was getting full anyways," Caroline said, making sure she threw a pointed stare at the blonde's stomach. She stood from the stool and stepped towards the door but ran into the man from the stage, now standing in front of Caroline.
"Now Pam," he said. "Is that any way to treat a new customer?" He snapped at Ginger, who grabbed another drink and shuffled over to Caroline and Pam.
"Go away, Ginger," Pam said.
Ginger turned to leave, but then paused. She quickly opened the Tru Blood, slid it towards Caroline, and then shuffled to the other corner of the bar.
"Eric," Pam said, "this one doesn't pass the age limit."
Caroline scoffed. "I was born in '92."
Pam leaned over the bar. "When you reach the century mark, then you have my permission to talk." Pam took Caroline's Tru Blood and drank. She threw the remainder in the trash. Caroline flinched when the bottle broke.
Eric stared at Pam. The silent communication caused Pam to frown even deeper than Caroline thought possible. She walked away.
"Wow," Caroline said. "Do you own this place? You have to work on your welcoming committee."
"Yes," he said. "I do now." He leaned on the bar. "Ginger," he called. Running on her tippy toes, she bounced over. "Get some ladies on the stage, will you? I'm tired of people staring." Ginger nodded and scuttled away. Caroline needed a movement or a thought to fill the silence. She wished Pam had not thrown away her drink.
The lights lowered. Speakers buzzed out a twangy country song. A nude woman wearing dangerously high heels started waltzing and caressing the pole. The chatter returned to the bar as the customers' attention diverted back to the stage.
This campy joke from earlier in the day was nothing more than a seedy, dangerous vampire dive. And turned out Eric, this man who oozed sensuality and wisdom, did nothing more than manage a strip joint for vampires. Caroline turned back around, and Eric was intently gazing at her, through her.
"So," she said. "Is this your … club?"
"Yes, it is. And, yes, I detect your condescending tone and judgment."
Caroline blushed and waved her hand in front of her face. "I'm sorry, that was rude. You know, let's start over. I'm Caroline." She held out her hand.
He held her hand. "And I'm Eric." He leaned down and kissed it. Caroline turned redder and slid her hand from his.
"I have a boyfriend."
Eric furrowed his brows and laughed. "My, you are presumptuous."
Caroline reached for her drink and, again, remembered Pam threw it away.
"And Niklaus? He's already called, begging for your life." Caroline suddenly felt hot. Dead air filled her ears, and she wanted to faint. Eric continued talking. "Did you know I am older than Niklaus, the 'Original'?"
Caroline stepped back. She needed to leave. Her curiosity had waned, she was not having fun, and this place was a garbage dump. I'm afraid, and I am outnumbered, she admitted to herself.
"Your kind and my kind have some agreement; I don't know what, and I don't care. But you, Miss Caroline, knowingly or not, have broken the pact by being here." Eric rubbed his chin. Her name sounded like butter dropping from his lips, but she sensed the danger behind his silky, calm voice.
"God, you sound like Klaus," she said. Caroline grabbed her purse from the counter and walked around Eric. "I'm leaving, you'll never see me again."
When she got to the door, Eric was already there, looking down at her. "Pam?" he yelled.
By the time Caroline could react, she felt clawed hands on her shoulders.
"Take her to the back room," he said.
"With pleasure," Pam cooed.