The next night, Tara was preparing a Cosmopolitan at the bar when she looked up to meet the hazel stare of Celeste. She was sitting at the bar with her cheek resting against her palm, staring at Tara.
"Oh my God, look who it is. Shirley fuckin' Temple. Pam's missed you," Tara said.
"Yeah, I've been getting stuck with the night shift at work, so nights to myself are now a rarity," Celeste mused. "It's whatever. I need a Cherry Coke with a lime on the side."
"Uhm. Honey, if you're trying to drink your problems away, that ain't gonna do shit for you. You're better off going home and having someone buy you booze, since you're no stranger to that," Tara pointed out, the slightest hint of sarcasm in her tone.
Celeste shook her head. "Can I please just have the damn Coke? Otherwise no tip," she added sweetly.
Tara glared as she poured the girl a Coke. "You know missy, you can cut the sugar-sweet shit. You have some bite, and I respect that. I think I like the bite better than the sugar."
"So does Pam," Celeste smirked, taking a sip of her drink.
"Ok, about that. You made out with her. And she doesn't know anything about you. That's a total tramp ho move, bitch. But it's feisty," Tara said.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Celeste responded with a dismissive wave of her hand. "What is there to know about me, though?" she asked in a low voice, almost more to herself. She looked down. "Not much to know. Or anything worth knowing."
"Well, if you're gonna eventually end up with my maker, I think it's worth knowing. How about your damn name for starters?" Tara inquired.
"Celeste."
"I already knew that. Celeste what?"
"Celeste...Whitford," Celeste trailed off, hazel eyes focusing on one of the pole dancers.
"You turned on by that?" Tara asked, following her gaze.
"No, it's nothing. It's just...a memory," Celeste added in a whisper.
"Shit. You were a dancer? Back in...where were you from, New York?" Tara asked, suddenly eager.
Celeste flipped a strand of blonde hair over her shoulder. "It's whatever. Just something I did to get by. The usual shit, you know. Do what you gotta do. But I was pretty damn good at it."
"I'll bet you were." Tara paused, looking around, then leaning back towards Celeste. "We could always use more dancers. I don't really do this. Well, actually, I don't think I'm supposed to, but since Pam seems to like you a lot, I'm hiring you. Right here, right now."
Celeste looked taken aback. "I already have a job-"
"During the day," Tara interjected. "And I could make sure that your other employer doesn't give you the night shift. Hell, you wouldn't even have to work there anymore if you didn't want to. And you know, Pam would certainly love it if you were a dancer here..."
At this, a slow grin spread across Celeste's face. "You bet your little black ass she would. But tell me. Why are you so hell-bent on this? It's for Pam, isn't it?"
"She's my maker, and I care about her," Tara replied.
"Yeah, I don't really get the whole maker/baby vamp kinda thing..." Celeste mused.
"It's pretty intense. Hell, when I was human, I never would've understood it. If you had asked me, I would've said it's some pretty fucked up shit," Tara said with a laugh.
Celeste smiled. "I'll say. But the way you talk about her...you were in a relationship with her."
"Yeah. Well, no. Not really. We-"
"You were fuck buddies," Celeste finished with a smirk.
Tara grinned. "Pretty much. But she wanted more. And I broke it off. Haven't really had much luck in the love department. Don't know if I ever will again, and if I do, God knows if I'll be able to handle myself. Pam deserves better. 'Cause I know she wants more."
"Well, she doesn't seem to want that at all. She seems perfectly content with the physicality of everything," Celeste said.
"Let me tell you something about Pam. Appearances are everything, baby doll. Sure, she seems to like that, and trust me, she does. But she also pretends not to have feelings, when I know she does. It's all appearances."
"Amen to that," Celeste replied in a thoughtful tone, casting her eyes downward and taking a slow sip of her drink.
"Celeste." A sharp voice sliced through the air like a knife.
Both Tara and Celeste jolted up in surprise. Pam was standing beside the bar, cerulean eyes trained on Celeste.
"Pam, we just got ourselves a new dancer," Tara said excitedly.
Pam tore her gaze away from Celeste to look irritatedly at Tara. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
"Celeste here has experience with dancing. So I offered-"
"Who's the goddamn manager of this bar, Tara? Jesus Christ." Pam refocused on Celeste. "Come to my office. We can...discuss," Pam said, with a suggestive sidelong glance.
Celeste raised an eyebrow. "Certainly, Pam."
Tara rolled her eyes. "Get a room, bitches. This is such a pathetic excuse for foreplay."
"Tara Mae Thornton, shut the fuck up and do your job," Pam commanded. Tara threw her hands up in mock surrender and ducked behind the bar to retrieve a glass.
Pam whirled on her heel to head for her office, with Celeste following closely behind her.