Hi all. Here's this week's chapter, hot off the presses. Thanks for all your the insightful reviews, including the guest ones & yours, tanseynz. If anyone spots any typos or anything PM me so I can fix them.


5: Girls Just Want To Have Fun


That Friday I'd been home a fortnight and I was past ready for my new life to start. After my optimism on the plane home, I felt time a-wasting, but there I was, back in Bon Temps and stuck in a rut.

I was frustrated with my neighbours, fed up to my gritted back teeth with the pernicious gossip that was more of the same old, same old. Crazy Sookie running around with vamps, blah, blah, blah. I dreaded getting stuck in a dead-end job at a diner in town or the Norcross plant. Not that those options weren't good honest work, but I wanted more. And on top of that, the conversation with Sam about Bill was far too familiar, history repeating.

I was trudging a well-worn path, pushing the same boulder up the same hill over and over, only to have it squash me flat as a pancake as it rolled back down. Every damn time.

I was restless, out of sorts all day.

So I wasn't in a particularly welcoming mood that evening when a car pulled up and its horn sounded. I opened the front door, my sullen mood rapidly turning into puzzled curiosity.

It was Danny's station wagon. Out of it, carrying bags and bottles, came Kennedy, Holly, Penny and lastly, smiling cautiously, Tara.

No-one confessed whose idea it was to throw me an impromptu divorce party, but I suspected Michele had a hand in it. It was a big improvement on the pity party I'd been having on my lonesome, let me tell you.

While the others were busy unloading groceries in the kitchen, Tara pulled me aside and told me quietly that even though things were strained between us, she wanted to be there for me at this difficult time. We hugged, brief but tight, and some of the tension between us eased.

My guests took over the kitchen and Penny made tacos. Well, she was in charge. Kennedy and I exchange some amused looks as the shy Penny we knew transformed in to the most demanding kitchen boss ever. When she snapped at me for not chopping the tomatoes correctly, we all burst out laughing.

Penny flushed and began to apologise.

"Don't you dare!" said Kennedy, gasping for breath. "I'll take feisty Chef Penny over meek and mild-mannered Waitress Penny any day."

Holly wiped her eyes and bumped hips with Penny. "Guess we know what Ryan sees in you now, Mistress Penny."

Penny smirked. "Yeah, it's my awesome tacos. If y'all could only follow my instructions you'd find out just how awesome they are."

We all gasped at her sass, and broke into more laughter. I don't know how those tacos got made with Penny jokingly snapping orders and insulting our kitchen skills, and us sassing her back, calling her head chef, and captain, yes-sirring and saluting behind her back.

I hadn't had so much fun in an age, and if my guards heard us moaning over the taste of those tacos and got the wrong idea … Well, they were absolutely delicious.

Afterwards we sat around the kitchen table playing cards, wearing silly party hats. We drank – I stopped after two of Kennedy's Long Island iced teas, that girl made them strong and it was never pretty if I lost control of my telepathy around other people – we laughed and we talked until the small hours. About books, movies, celebrities, the price of fame, our wildest dreams, stupid online videos … Anything and everything.

My new and improved shields were wonderfully impervious. Drunken thoughts were the worst, confused and sordid, so it was great to be spared them.

The company and laughter swept away my restlessness for almost the whole evening, but there was one serious moment, when it was just me and Kennedy in the kitchen and everybody else was stumbling towards bed.

The only sober ones left standing, we were clearing up. I stared out into the night as I washed dishes, wondering what the guards made of my loud party. That made me think of Pam and everything she'd done for me. Pam and Michele, they'd both been pillars of strength. I felt their absence. I had a vision of Pam observing our party like it was some strange tribal custom and sniggered to myself. I could totally see that happening.

I sobered up pretty quick when Tara popped into the picture I was imagining.

Tara and Pam together would be a disaster. I had no idea how Penny felt about vamps either. Pam might be too much for her, Penny was usually so timid. My heart sank. My life, my friends were split into two layers, oil and water, that would never mix effortlessly. I couldn't see a way to resolve that, but I promised myself I'd see Pam soon. Even if she couldn't socialise with my human girlfriends, I was determined to be a better friend to her.

As we got to the last dish Kennedy spoke, breaking the comfortable silence. "I guess you're not coming back to Merlotte's. I heard you cleared your desk."

"Yep. I won't be back. Sam bought me out." I sighed.

"Know what you're going to do?"

"Nope. Not a clue. Maybe waitressing." I pulled a face.

"Hmm." She looked thoughtful. "That's a step down, isn't it? You should be aiming higher, maybe bar manager."

"Those jobs don't come up often."

"No, I guess not. Not in Bon Temps … But you could look further away. Minden or Monroe. Shreveport even."

Just then a burst of giggles came from the back of the house. We looked at each other. I rolled my eyes. "Oh Lord, what are they up to now?"

Kennedy grinned. "Let's find out. It sounds like fun."

My sleepover guests left after a hearty breakfast of pancakes, mostly recovered from the festivities. Kennedy's advice repeated in my head as I looked out of the window at my pride and joy, my silver Focus. It was far more reliable than my previous cars. Kennedy was right; I had more potential than waitressing and I wasn't tied to Bon Temps.

That spark of confidence carried me through the weekend.

Saturday morning I shopped in Monroe, meeting up with Kennedy and Penny. I bought myself some smart office wear and a cute outfit for Marie Adele that I couldn't resist, and, on a hunch, a gift basket of Michele's favourite toiletries.

I spent the afternoon at Jason's doting on my niece and nephew. I was right: Michele had arranged the party, including Tara for me despite the fact they hadn't made peace yet. To show how much I appreciated her kindness, I present her with her pamper-kit and told Jason to give her time to use it. She was touched, but made light of it, dismissing her glistening eyes as baby blues.

That evening I covered the kitchen table with local papers and, in fat red marker, circled all the suitable daytime jobs within an hour's drive. Then I narrowed it down, crossing off jobs at larger companies, ones that would be too difficult when Eric's blood wore off and my shields were back to normal.

Sunday I skipped church, figuring quiet contemplation and a pray or two at home while I was baking beat running the gauntlet of the gossips. I left a message for Pam asking if she was free on Monday for some girl time while Fangtasia was shut, mentioning I had some plans to discuss with her. Then Danny – who by virtue of being Bill's day man had become an expert, or at least more expert than me – came by to help me coerce my computer into producing a professional résumé, which turned out to be surprisingly easy once he showed me how to use the software Sam had put on there. Danny left with a warm apple pie as a thank you and I spent the afternoon researching college courses, trying not to feel daunted by the entry requirements and the cost. That evening I wrote cover letters for the companies I planned to visit the following day.

On Monday, I dressed smartly and left with a stack of resumes. I had my route all worked out. I stopped off at a couple places in Minden first. Visiting in person not only impressed potential employers, it allowed me to get a feel for the places with my telepathy, find out if the staff were happy or if the boss was a nightmare. I crossed off one place where the boss was way too interested in my chest and the receptionists were wary of being alone in his office with him.

I got to Shreveport mid-morning and my first stop was the admissions office for LSU. I was nervous but the lady who spoke to me, Carol, was lovely, very reassuring, both outwardly and mentally. She really believed older students were more committed. She asked me a lot of pertinent questions.

Was I interested in a full degree? I wasn't sure. She saw my hesitancy and suggested taking some placement tests. If I had the aptitude I could enrol part-time, take a few courses and see how I got on. She was sure I'd surprise myself.

What courses was I interested in? I figured business or accounting given my experience, maybe some computing. She nodded, saying those things were very popular. Then she pointed out I could take courses in other areas too, rattling off a long list. She noticed my eyes light up when she got to psychology. I'd lingered over the course description online the day before, thinking of Tara and the insight my gift gave me into the way people thought. She pointed out that psychology combined well with business and I could always switch if I found it interesting.

Would I prefer evening and online courses? She grinned when my face lit up at the thought of studying at home in peace and quiet. How many hours could I commit to study? Would I need to work? I'd figured out my fairy funds would just stretch to cover full-time studying, but I preferred fewer classes combined with a part-time job so I wasn't living hand to mouth again.

The earliest I could enrol would be the fall term, starting in August.

I left with an appointment to take the placement tests a few days later, while my shields were still strong, and a pile of forms to fill in. The options pencilled in for if I passed: a basic online accountancy course that should be easy given what I'd learnt working at Merlotte's, and two introductory evening courses in business and psychology.

I sat in the car beaming with excitement. I was really going to do this.

I glanced at the pile of résumés on the passenger seat. What I needed was a well-paying job for the next few months, then something part-time when classes started. Sure, I had the money from my share of Merlotte's, but I wanted to put that by for emergencies, not live off it. And I needed the contact with other people.

I ate at that fancy Italian place I liked, flipping through my cover letters before my food came, ridiculously pleased that the waiter assumed I was a business woman working through lunch. After that I drove all over, dropping off résumés and checking out receptionists' opinions of their bosses.

I got home about five. I was opening the back door when a low whistle from the trees had me turning round. I identified Margaret by her mind as she stepped into view. She was polite enough not to sneak up on me. I appreciated that.

"Hi Margaret. What can I do for you?"

"Hello Sookie. You had a busy day today."

I grinned. "Didn't lose you did I?"

She grinned back. "Nope. I wouldn't let Jack drive. Guess you've got plans though."

"Oh... yes. Nothing definite yet." I didn't want to jinx it.

"LSU is a great school. You'll do well."

I flushed. "Um, thanks. I'm not counting my chickens yet."

She cocked her head. "That why you're looking for work too?"

"Oh, sort of. Something to tide me over until classes start. Daytime I hope. Um, is that going to be a problem?" I asked warily. I hated that the whole guard situation might limit my plans.

She shrugged. "I don't think so. Does Pam know yet?"

"I'm seeing her tonight."

"We'll work something out, don't worry." She nodded goodbye, and headed off into the woods.

I went inside, put dinner in the oven and relaxed in the tub while it cooked, tired but pleased with the day's achievements. I was ready to leave for Shreveport again by eight, hoping jeans and a t-shirt were what Pam meant by comfortable clothes.

I had no idea where we were going. We'd spoken briefly on Sunday evening but Pam refused to give me any hints. I'd pointed out an evening of mayhem and bloodshed didn't appear anywhere on my bucket list. She'd chuckled that things had been too quiet without me.

When I parked on her drive, Pam came out wearing jeans and a brown leather jacket. I relaxed; I was appropriately attired.

"Hello, Sookie," she said as she got in.

"Hi Pam. Mind telling me where we're going?"

She grinned. "Not so fast. I'll give you directions."

I filled her in on my plans while I drove. She was encouraging about LSU. As for working in Minden or Shreveport, she only wanted to know where so she could vet the locations. I was relieved: I was prepared to be flexible on where I worked, but I wasn't willing to compromise on my dreams of education. Not again.

We headed west through Shreveport, then turned off the main route into a wooded area that ran alongside the expressway. The long straight road that ran through it was unlit and with no other traffic in sight, I cracked a joke. "Pretty quiet out here. Planning on hiding a body, Pam? If I'd known, I'd have put the shovels in the trunk."

Pam smirked fangily. I knew that would appeal to her.

She had me turn onto a dirt road that ended in a badly-lit parking lot hidden in the trees. The lot served a hangar-style building with a single dim light burning over a side door. There were no signs or markings to clue me in on what was inside. If it wasn't for a few parked cars and the reassuring hum of a half dozen brains inside, the place would have unnerved me. I shot a querying glance at my fanged friend.

"You'll see," she said, still smirking.

When we got to the side door, she rapped on it and a grill opened. Pam said, "Mark."

"Sheriff," said a deep voice in reply. His mind was red and snarly. Werewolf.

The door opened.

Hubba. Hubba.

That was all I could think, until I blinked and sucked back the drool threatening to ruin Mark's first impression of me.

Mark worked out. A lot. He was broad shouldered and his chest strained the faded green t-shirt he wore, a t-shirt that revealed a pair of coffee-coloured arms like knotted tree trunks. With tattoos. That didn't detract from the man's appeal at all. The way the ink stretched when he moved completely distracted me as he led us inside.

He said we had the place to ourselves apart from a game upstairs, but I was barely listening. Pam shot me an amused look and I gave myself a severe dressing-down for objectifying the poor man. I'd hardly spared his face a glance, just enough to appreciate his thick brown hair, blue eyes, and the dimples he flashed when he smiled at Pam.

He opened a door and led us into … Oh. A shooting range.

I turned to Pam with wide eyes. I'd promised to teach her to shoot years ago. We'd messed around with a shotgun, shooting cans off logs in my yard, the way I'd learnt. I'd never been to a proper range. "You need a refresher or something?"

Pam's eyes twinkled. "Oh no. Mark here is an excellent teacher. I took him for a test drive as it were, before I put him in charge of training your guards, keeping their skills fresh. Tonight... I thought you might enjoy a little competition."

"What sort of competition?"

"Between you and me. We'll see if the student has surpassed the master." She gave me a mocking bow.

I snorted. "Hardly seems fair, bloodsucker."

Her mouth twitched. "Oh, don't worry, breather. You'll have easier targets. And Mark will give you some instruction with handguns before we start."

"Okay. You're on."

I enjoyed it immensely. Shooting paper targets was much more entertaining than shooting people, no moral dilemmas or gore involved. Mark supplied us with miked headsets that enable us to talk despite the heavy ear protection, so we kept up a stream of banter trying to psyche each other out. Pam had smaller and more distant targets, and we mixed it up, using different guns and even moving targets by the end. Pam's moved faster, naturally.

The instruction part of the evening was definitely fun too. Mark's body pressed close to mine as he corrected my stance, enveloping me in warmth and that musky smell of man. Yum. Even with that distraction Pam was right, he was a good teacher. I acquitted myself creditably and, much to Pam's annoyance, I even beat her a few times.

It wasn't until we'd finished that I discovered Pam had ulterior motives.

Grinning because I won the last bout, I pulled off my headset and fluffed out my hair. I turned when I heard Pam ask, "She was better with the Beretta?"

"Yep," said Mark, looking over the target sheets. "'Specially with a moving target."

"Good. Ammo as well, please."

"Um, Pam?" I asked. "What's going on?"

She eyed me for a second, waiting for Mark to leave before she spoke. "Guns have their uses. Having one in your car might not have stopped Lattesta last year, but there are situations where one could make all the difference."

"Pam, I don't think–"

"Sookie," she interrupted firmly, "you don't have to use it, but it would be prudent to have one. As a backup, in case the guards lose you again."

I thought about Debbie Pelt. I'd been glad of my shotgun that night, but I didn't enjoy killing. I'd mostly done it in self-defence and even then each life I'd taken had left me with lingering regrets.

"I would suggest a silver knife as well, knowing how effective you are with one." She winked at me as she referred to dispatching Bruno and his friend in the pouring rain. I shuddered at the memory. "But currently the most likely aggressors are the Chosen and bullets will be quite adequate for stopping them."

"Currently? Are they after me again?"

She shrugged. "I don't have any information that they're targeting you specifically, but there have been some … incidents over the winter. In Georgia and here. It would be wise to assume you may be targeted. They have shown interest in you before. And a hand gun would be practical. You can't fit a shotgun in a glove compartment."

I looked at the black, cold lump of metal sitting on the counter. Instead of a tool, a piece of sports equipment, it had just morphed into a deadly weapon. A way to end a life.

Or protect mine. I sighed heavily. "Okay. But I won't use it unless I absolutely have to."

"Good."

My fun evening had turned unexpectedly serious. Pensively biting my lip, I was barely aware I was missing another opportunity to ogle the eye candy when Mark came back with several boxes of ammo and a case for the Beretta I'd been using. He packed it away efficiently, casting a glance or two at Pam.

Glances that, coming out of my dark thoughts, I finally noticed.

Glances that had a certain vibe.

Oh. Oh.

I felt myself begin to flush. Oh dear. That warm knot of lust I'd felt from him when he brushed my bare arm earlier – boy, had I misinterpreted that.

Pam looked curiously at me as she thanked him. "I'll walk you out Sookie."

I looked everywhere but at either of them. "Sure. Thanks for the lesson, Mark."

"No worries." He pulled out a card. "Any time you want another, give me a call."

Face warm, I stuttered out another thank-you as I took the card. I grabbed Pam's arm and practically frogmarched her outside. Once we were in the lot I hissed, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?" She was amused and she knew damn well exactly 'what'.

"That you and," I waved dramatically at the building, "Mr Bow-flex in there," I trailed off, searching for a suitable euphemism, finally adding lamely, "have something going on."

Pam smirked. "And?"

"I just spent the last hour flirting with him!"

"Dropping that empty clip wasn't an accident?" she drawled, rolling her eyes. "I'd never have guessed."

"But … There is something between you, right?" If she was yanking my chain I was gonna be using my new Beretta real soon.

She shrugged. "We were lovers for a while, the fall before last."

I gaped. Lovers? Pam never called her … diversions that. Usually she called them playmates. Miriam, yes, but they'd been serious. And Mark was so, so … Well, not anything like Miriam that was for damn sure. As far as I knew, Pam's occasional forays into straight sex involved geeky guys like Stan Davis, so imagining her with someone like Mark threw me for a loop. Although maybe that was the point, maybe she'd wanted someone who wouldn't remind her of Miriam in any way, a polar opposite.

Her brow wrinkled. "If you're interested, I could put in a good word. Mark is not as rough as he looks, and he has very talented–"

"Pam!" I yelped. "No. Just no. Friend's exes are off limits."

"They are?

"Yes Pam, they are."

"I wouldn't object. Although I was wondering if he'd be interested in an encore tonight. He really is quite skilled."

"No. Friends don't make moves on each other's guys. And I certainly don't want details."

She eyed me. "It's not the first time we have tasted the same man. Although after my Maker, Mark might seem a little deficient in the stamina department."

I felt my flush return with a vengeance at her reference to Eric. All the way to my hairline. I was out of practise dealing with her frank attitude to things I considered private.

I turned away and marched over to my car, ignoring the quiet chuckle behind me. As I pulled out my keys, I noticed a parked car that had arrived while we'd been inside. A car with two pale occupants. One of them raised a hand in greeting. Thalia.

Was she grinning?

I groaned and cursed their damn vampire super-hearing. She could probably see my face glowing too.

Pam followed me to the car. I glared at her and her amused expression, snatching the gun and ammo from her to stow them in the trunk. She raised an eyebrow. I gestured towards Thalia and her pal, far more deadly than bullets.

She nodded. "Fair enough. It needs to be in the car tomorrow, though."

"Fine."

"Teasing aside, I enjoyed your company tonight, Sookie."

I slammed the trunk shut and looked at her. She was serious. "Me too, Pam. Even if you had my security in mind, it was a fun evening."

No prizes for guessing who taught her that trick, killing two birds with one stone. That reminded me of what Sam told me. Realising I was about to ask a question that might ruin the mood, I sighed. "Pam, have you ever planted bugs at my house?"

She frowned and glanced towards Thalia before stepping closer. "Explain."

"Sam told me a few days ago that he found bugs in my car and at the house, back when," I hesitated, not wanting to bring up a sore point, but pressed on, "Karin was around. Sam got rid of them, but whoever planted them came back and planted two more. At night. He couldn't tell who it was."

"And nothing since then?"

"He never found any others."

She looked relieved. "The team sweep for them regularly. They haven't found any by the house since the wards went up."

I cocked my head. "But they found some somewhere else?"

Pam nodded. "Your car came back from Shreveport infested a few times. We moved the devices to other random vehicles and it stopped eventually. And we found a few at Merlotte's when you were first married."

I chewed that over. Pam clearly wasn't the culprit, but I had to ask. "Those first ones weren't Karin?"

Pam said slowly, "She never said anything. She had free roam of the woods. If they were hers, she would have known the shifter had interfered. She would have mentioned that to me, if not the bugging itself."

So who was it? I couldn't see the weres or the fairies using bugs and their attacks came later. As a tactic it seemed too indirect for the Fellowship and their hangers on.

But not for someone old and patient. "Vampire?"

Pam nodded slightly. "Or agents of. The ones on your car were planted during the day."

I groaned and slumped against the car. That meant de Castro. Or Freyda. Or any number of powerful vamps who desired their own telepath.

"This is old news Sookie, not a recent problem. The team knows what to look for." Pam tilted her head slightly, glancing towards the building momentarily. Then she focused back on me. "Bill's been calling on you."

I frowned. Why was everyone so damn interested in Bill's wanderings? Heck, it was like he'd announced his nightly strolls in the paper or something.

She glanced towards the building again. "I expected he would, in light of the new situation."

I opened my mouth to say … I wasn't sure what. That Bill surely wasn't interested in planting his flag as soon as Sam was out the door. Except that I wasn't real sure why he had paid me a visit. Twice. But if he was after rekindling something with me, why hadn't he been back once the divorce became a reality?

The sound of laughter and voices made me turn towards the building. The door opened, spilling light and bodies out into the lot. A mix of humans and twoeys, joking good naturedly with each other. Reading one of the regular guys told me they'd just finished their weekly poker game. Parting comments were made, car doors slammed and engines started. None of them gave us a second glance.

Pam was looking towards the pickup left by the door. And Mark, who was locking up.

I sighed softly. "He's interested in that encore."

She quirked an eyebrow.

I tapped my temple.

"Ah."

I smiled. "Have fun."

"Oh, I will." She winked and gestured for me to get in the car.

Thalia's car pulled out after mine, leaving Pam and Mark alone in the lot.

On the journey home, I tried not to begrudge Pam her fun or worry about the bugs. For a millisecond I wondered if Sam had been right, if I wasn't happier in the dark. Then I shook myself. I was done hiding my head in the sand. I was going to be the one in control of my life from now on.

That attitude propelled me through three job interviews in the next three days, giving me the confidence to turn down the offer that didn't feel right and take the one that did.

That was how I ended up commuting to Minden on Friday, excited to start working nine-to-five at 'Fredericks, Golding & Partners', a local insurance company. It was a temporary position, fitting in with my college plans nicely, and the place seemed perfect. Pam had okayed it too; the office was small and easy to watch.

The office girls – Melissa, Leanne and Jody – were covering for a fourth, who was on maternity leave, and they needed an extra pair of hands, a dogsbody. Covering simple tasks where I was needed meant my lack of appropriate experience was less important than my willingness to work hard.

The office manager who'd interviewed me, Pauline, was a serious, efficient woman with short grey hair. She was predisposed to favour an older woman like me as the previous girl, fresh out of high school, had proved more of a hindrance than a help, and had left on short notice. Pauline was desperate to replace her. Consequently the pay was generous, and I had some insight into how high Pauline was willing to go when I negotiated.

I wasn't above using what I picked out of her head to make sure I was paid fairly.

Leanne, who worked full-time, was in the office when I interviewed. She was early twenties, mousy, with a pleasant face and a gentle disposition. She genuinely thought the best of people and she was one of the reasons I took a liking to the place. When my shields returned to normal, her thoughts would be inoffensive.

I met Melissa, who worked three days a week, on my first day. She was mixed race, slim, attractive and confident. She dressed well, worked hard and didn't suffer fools. When I picked up the filing system quickly, she muttered that at least I wasn't as dim-witted as the last girl. She was a student, studying Art History at LSU, and sharp as a whip. My telepathy told me that underneath her brash confidence she was insecure, worried about making ends meet and about a boyfriend who wasn't ready to commit.

My first day went great. I was thrilled. That weekend I took my placement tests for LSU and sailed through them. I made sure to mention that and my wonderful new job to my friends in Bon Temps so they could congratulate me.

Monday was a new day at the office.

I met Jody.

Jody had been on vacation the previous the week. She was small, dark-haired and sharp-featured. She was a little older than the others, had worked there longest and, not to put too fine a point on it, was a two-faced bitch. Not that I'd know that if I couldn't hear her cruel mental commentary. She didn't compound that with laziness thankfully, working just as hard as Melissa. So that was something.

It wasn't all women. Mr Fredericks, the boss, was a compact, precise man who was always meticulously groomed and dressed. In his fifties with greying black hair, he was distant and formal with the office girls, but he didn't interacted with them much, often out visiting clients or sticking to his office when he wasn't. His partner Mr Golding was the opposite. A kind and portly old man whose suits were rumpled, he always stopped to make small talk with us 'gals' on his way in and out.

Then there was Trent, the guy who delivered our mail.

He was mid-twenties, slim, tall, dark and drool-worthy. There was a lot of hair flipping when he arrived, and a lot of sighing when he left. Even from Pauline, in her fifties.

I found myself fantasising about him three times in one morning. I shook it off. There was little point as he barely noticed me. Dipping in to his mind, I'd seen first-hand how his eyes slid straight over me to linger on Melissa. She, of course, wasn't interested in him. Wasn't that always the way?

It would never work anyway. Human. Touch. I wondered idly if I could borrow one of those fancy necklaces from Pam to block Trent's thoughts and imagined that conversation: Trent, I need to you put this on before we have sex. 'This' being a gold pendant worthy of the term bling, not a condom. I almost laughed out loud at the ridiculous idea. Oh gosh, he'd think I had some strange kink about rappers. No, Trent was not for me. He was too young, I told myself firmly.

Staring dreamily after him the next day, I caught an eye roll from Melissa and shook myself harder. What was wrong with me? First Mark and now this boy.

I put it down to the oestrogen-rich environment and the fact that I'd been effectively single for over a month. My body hadn't gotten the divorce memo. I was craving a little attention, that was all.

That Thursday, my birthday, I got confirmation I'd passed the placement tests. I called Michele and Kennedy to squeal before I left for work and we made plans to celebrate my success and my birthday on the weekend.

Leanne came in to work with birthday cupcakes. I hadn't said anything; she'd spotted my birth date on my application. When Melissa heard that all I had planned was a quiet day with friends, she began coaxing me to go out with them that Friday night, to some new place in Bossier City.

I was new to working in an office, uncertain of the work at times, but enjoying the challenge. For the first time I'd found it easy to make friends with my co-workers, without the spectre of Crazy Sookie haunting me. It was refreshingly normal worrying whether I'd filed the Johnson account in the right place rather than whether I was going to blurt out someone's secrets.

Concern over what would happen when Eric's blood wore off had me sending up a prayer or two that my peace would last a little longer. I wanted to fit in, especially with Leanne and Melissa who I liked. I was different enough already being the new girl, and older, and divorced. Sure, Melissa mainly wanted to go out to forget her man troubles, but she also wanted to get to know me. We had hit it off and I had to admit I was flattered to be asked.

Why shouldn't I socialise with them? I was single. It would help me get to know them.

Melissa grinned when I suddenly caved and agreed to go, partly in defiance of Jody's mental scorn. She's too old and prissy to party with us.

The flash of annoyance in Jody's hard eyes might have given me pause if Leanne hadn't lit up with the first beaming smile I'd seen from her. She thought it would be lovely to have me to talk to while the others were busy.

That should have clued me in to exactly how hard Melissa and Jody partied.

The evening after my thirty-second birthday, at nine o'clock sharp, I arrived at the club. Blue.

Yep, just one word. Blue. Like Madonna.

The lot was half full. I parked and sat in the car, nervously eyeing the distinctly younger crowd congregating around the entrance. The rather traditional dress I'd chosen would just about fit in, I reckoned. It was pale blue, a flattering fit on top, and the soft skirt swirled just right for dancing.

I looked around a few times but I didn't spot the girls.

I was about to resort to a mental sweep when Melissa knocked loudly on my window, grinning when I jumped. I chastised her amicably as I got out of the car.

She was dolled up to the nines: hair up, false eyelashes and glitter on her cheeks. Her short gold dress clung to her curves and she was confident, graceful even, in her dangerously high heels. I felt Leanne's shy admiration for Melissa as we hugged our hellos. Leanne was wearing a flowing green dress that flattered her figure, which tended to huskiness. She pulled nervously at the scooped neckline, feeling exposed.

"Wow, Melissa, you look great," I said, knowing that Melissa needed to hear that just as much as Leanne. She wasn't as confident as she looked. I turned and said genuinely, "You too, Leanne. I just love that dress, where did you get it?"

"Oh, I made it myself," she mumbled in a rush.

"Really? It's lovely." Leanne was blushing, struggling with the praise, otherwise I would have gushed some more. I dipped into her head briefly as I added, "You've got a real talent there."

It wasn't the first time she'd heard that, but she dismissed it as politeness. Lingering in her mind to find out why, I got a glimpse of her mom and a tangle of regret that she'd never become a seamstress. Her mom was sick. Leanne had given up her dream, working to pay for her treatment. I held back a sigh and covered up my sudden rush of sympathy by scrambling in my purse for my keys and turning to lock my car. I had a cheerful smile in place when I turned back around.

"There you are." Jody called from two cars over. Her bright red wrap-around dress set off her dark hair nicely, but it made her figure look as skinny and bony as it was. "Come on, we need to get in line."

We chatted while the line shuffled forward. Melissa and I discussed a movie we'd seen, with Leanne adding a quiet comment or two. Jody rolled her eyes at us and muttered we'd better not talk like that all night, she wanted to have fun.

That sort of boring talk is why y'all are still single, she thought snidely. She proceeded to ignore us, opting to make eyes at a guy in line ahead of us. A guy whose girlfriend gave Jody plenty of stink-eye back, but that didn't put Jody off one bit.

Inside the club, almost everything was blue. Yes, it really was – the lights, the décor, even some of the drinks. Someone had picked a theme and stuck with it. Even the layer of mist blanketing dance floor was tinted blue by the lights. Dry ice; there was an unexpected comeback. I thought that had gone out with bad eighties haircuts and shoulder pads.

Not that I was old enough to remember those. Not quite. And there were definitely people my age in the club. Definitely.

The bar was already busy. Melissa shouldered her way to the counter and fluttered her caterpillar eyelashes, coming back with tall glasses of some blue drink that tasted like soda. I sipped mine cautiously. It didn't taste strong. When Jody got bored of yelled conversation and wanted to dance, I gulped it down in a rush to join her.

Clubbing had never been my idea of a good time. With my telepathy I'd never been able to give it a shot comfortably, but for once I was at ease in the crowd, my stronger shields making even the packed dance floor bearable. The longer I danced the more I relaxed.

I began to enjoy myself. I loved to dance. The music was catchy, the beat easy to move to. It was great to let loose for once.

When we took a break, Jody bought a round of shots. I threw mine back with abandon, making up for lost time, those partying years I'd missed out on. A second spin on the floor and we attracted some attention from a table of college boys.

It was my turn to fight my way to the bar. When I got back, I was so thirsty I gulped down my iced tea before I realised the bartender had given me a Long Island. I shrugged, enjoying the buzz. I figured that dancing would burn the alcohol off soon enough. I hadn't intended to drink much, but I could always call a cab if I had to and my shields were holding just fine. God bless Eric's blood.

A few shots and dances later, Jody and Melissa began a competition over who'd go home with the most gorgeous frat boy. I should have been shocked. Instead I was annoyed that I wasn't even considered in the running. Leanne saw my frown and leaned over to whisper-yell in my ear.

"Don't worry Sookie. We'll keep an eye on them. Thank goodness you and me are sensible, hey?" Leanne was determinedly responsible. She'd only had one alcoholic drink.

I leant over. "There's nothing wrong with having a little fun, Leanne."

She frowned. "I guess. I just worry about them."

She was hoping she wouldn't have to worry about me too. I snorted. She needn't bother. I was pretty sure I could handle a few overenthusiastic frat boys. In fact, I wanted to handle that one with the dirty blonde hair and the soulful blue eyes. And damn it, why shouldn't I?

I stood up and marched straight over to his table, full of confidence. I heard Jody gasp behind me and Melissa whistle encouragement. I practically dragged the guy to the floor. He was a good dancer, even if he was too shy to look higher than my shoulder. At least he wasn't fixed on my cleavage.

Unfortunately, touching him revealed he had a girlfriend, one he was real sweet on. When the song was over I let him go back to his friends, watching his tight jeans wistfully. I turned back to our table, expecting some sort of teasing.

None of them were looking my way.

Jody was stalking away towards the bar. Leanne was getting to her feet uncertainly, looking nervously between Jody's retreating back and Melissa, who was tense and unhappy. A guy, dark-skinned and young, was leaning over Melissa, talking earnestly and animatedly. Leanne scurried after Jody as I approached our table, concerned for my new friend.

"Hey, Melissa. Is this guy bothering you?"

She sighed heavily and stood up. "Jonah, give us a minute would you?" She took my arm and pulled me in the direction of the restrooms where it was quieter. I got the gist when she touched me. Jonah was the on-again-off-again boyfriend who'd been jerking her around for six months. He'd just made an urgent plea for them to get back together. She was undecided, tempted but irritated that he always managed to turn up just when she'd decided to move on.

"Sookie. That's my … my ex that might not be so ex. I have to sort this out with him. I feel real bad about taking off on your first night out with us."

"Oh, don't worry about that. You do what you've got to do."

"Thanks. Look, keep an eye on Leanne will you? She's so naive it scares me."

"Sure. Will do."

"And be careful around Jody. She had her eye on that guy you just danced with."

I shrugged. "Don't worry. I can look after myself."

We made our way back to the table where another round of shots was waiting. Jody was all smiles, brittle predatory ones, and Leanne looked about ready to cry. After some apologising and goodbyes, Melissa took off with Jonah.

I brushed across Leanne's mind and saw that Jody had been flirting hard with Jonah while Melissa and I were gone. Leanne had been real uncomfortable with the situation. When Jonah shot Jody down, she'd been madder than a wet hen. Lashing out at the weakest target, as all bullies do, Jody had let loose her sharp tongue on Leanne, criticising her 'homespun' dress, and her figure, asking if she was intent on dying alone in a house full of cats.

Vicious cow.

Leanne just wanted to go home and curl up in a corner.

I picked up a shot and threw it back, never breaking eye contact with Jody as she did the same. Bitch had hurt my friend. Then I leant over to Leanne and said kindly, "Why don't you go home, honey? Me and Jody can look after each other, right Jody?"

It took a bit of persuasion but eventually Leanne let me walk her out to her car. She was sober enough to drive, but she made me promise not to let Jody drive home drunk, which she'd been known to do.

So Jody was senseless and selfish, as well as vindictive. I can't say as I was surprised.

As I went back into the club, I wobbled on my heels. The fresh air hadn't dulled my buzz at all, but my shields were still – what was that phrase form that cartoon?

"My wings are like a shield of steel," I intoned with a giggle, earning a strange look from the bouncers as I passed.

No sense of humour, those guys. And no necks, which was decidedly weird. I shrugged off the stray thought and slapped on my game face.

Jody was waiting at the table with more shots and a challenge in her eyes. I brushed her fingers deliberately as she handed me a shot glass of something green.

... drink an old lady like you under the table. And no way are any of those fine boys going home with a clapped-out divorcee like you.

I snorted. I was damned if I was going to back down. She was barely four years younger than me and didn't look half as good. Not unless flat-chested bitchy skeletons were to a guy's taste. I downed the shot defiantly, followed by the red one waiting on the table.

We took to the dance floor. I lost myself in the music, losing track of Jody after a few songs too. Not that I cared. She could get off with dirty-blond if she wanted. I'd find someone else. Someone better. I'd show her.

I deserved a little fun.

It didn't really matter who with. Ships in the night, no regrets. Maybe that redhead who couldn't take his eyes off me. Or his friend, tall and dark. I danced my ass off for them, spinning and shaking my hips. Mr Tall and Dark finally grew a pair and joined me. We danced hot and close for a while, touching with only briefly, but enough for me to feel empowered by his rising interest.

He made a move, grabbing my wrist. His fingers gripped hard and I got a rapid reel of disturbing images and gasped in shock. I tried to pull away but he pulled me closer, whispering something crude and disgusting in my ear. I pulled away from him again and this time he let go, his eyes widening as he looked over my shoulder.

I staggered backwards into something solid and a large pair of hands settled on my hips, steadying me. Mr Creepy, formerly Mr Tall and Dark, melted into the crowd faster than butter on a hot ear of corn.

Before I could turn to thank my rescuer, a very familiar voice whispered in my ear: "Good evening, Sookie."

"Eric!" I squealed.

I whirled around so fast that he blinked. I giggled, pleased I'd surprised him for once, and slipped my arms around his waist to hug him. "What's a vampire like you doing in a place like this?"

He smiled faintly. "Would you believe Pam sent me to check out the competition?"

"Oh honey." I licked my lips. "There's no competition here."

His eyebrows shot up.

"Dance with me?" I asked, beginning to sway, deliberately rubbing up against his hard body.

...


A/N: Yes, yes I did just leave it there. But the next chapter is Eric's POV.

I suspect that doesn't make it any easier to wait a week, but at least you've got that to look forward too.