After checking if the shutters were closed – why I still hadn't nailed them shut, I couldn't rightly say – I lay down on the bed and closed my eyes.

I never asked other Vampires if they dreamed, so I don't know if it was simply me, but all my daily torpors were dreamless. Dreams were one of the things I really missed since my death. Even in life, just sleeping and dreaming got you away from all the daily misery. The murders, the robberies, the newspaper headlines, they all ceased to exist when you dreamed, travelling in wonderful worlds, a brief respite from the cruelty of the real world, and even if you woke up feeling sad that it was all just a dream, it still gave you enough energy to face another day of grayness and violence and lost faith in the world.

Since I died, there were no dreams, not even the feeling of being asleep. I simply closed my eyes and opened them again as the day ended, a beautiful day full of sun and colour that I'd never ever be able to see again. Streets filled with people on their way to work, or the shops, or wherever it was they were going, hot dog vendors shouting, terraces where people drank their morning coffee and read their morning paper, schools filled with whooping and shouting children, all gone for me.

Even though I no longer breathed, I still sighed at times.

I showered, got into my panties and my big loose white T-shirt, towelled and brushed my hair and went to the living room, hoping I was still in time for the news. Summer meant the nights were short, and I usually didn't make it in time to be able to watch, and I didn't this time either. At least I'd gotten a subscription to the paper. I opened the door to go get it, but when I did so, the paper was the last thing on my mind.

Stuck into the door with an intricately decorated and old-looking dagger was an envelope. Shit, that didn't foretell much good. I stood in the hallway for a while, staring at the dagger and envelope.

"You shouldn't stand in the hallway dressed like this, miss Del Rey," the voice of old Mr. Irving startled me as I was distracted by the strange delivery. Old Irving always knew exactly when I was in the hallway, as if he was waiting by the door, listening for the sound of mine. He was just a lonely old man, really, eager for company in a harmless but still slightly bothersome way.

"Mm? What?"

"Dressed like that. There's all kinds of creeps about."

Oh, you better believe I fucking know that. But being what I was now, they wouldn't find me such an easy target. Of course, I couldn't tell the nosy neighbour that, so I just stuck to, "I'm sure nobody's prowling the fourth floor hallway for female prey."

Pedantically, he said, "Doesn't matter. You should be careful anyway."

I indulged him. "Alright, I'll keep it in mind."

Out of the blue, he said, "A nice man would help. I see you always alone, always with your mind far away. I worry about you, miss Del Rey."

Taken by surprise, I blinked and said, "Uh, I'm fine, no need to worry."

"You're young, miss. You shouldn't stay cooped up in your apartment all day long."

His concern was touching, if a little presumptuous, but I didn't feel like continuing the conversation. "I'll be alright, mister Irving. I work night shifts, remember?" I told him. "Anyway, I need to go get ready. Have a nice evening."

Before he went back inside his apartment, he remarked, "Young women shouldn't be working night shifts either. It's unhealthy and lonely."

The night was the only healthy time for me. Ah well, I supposed the man meant well. But now I had this dagger-and-envelope combo to take a look at. I'd received death threats before, even back when I was still alive (some criminals are real crybabies about getting locked up), and they'd never impressed me before, but this one was different. I'd only gotten one death threat actually stuck onto my door, and even then it'd been done with a piece of ordinary sticky tape and with a shit-load of spelling errors on a piece of torn-off notebook paper. The guy had actually apologized for his stupidity at the trial.

But this one was different. The dagger looked expensive, and they'd actually used an envelope. I dislodged the dagger from the door and took the weapon and the envelope inside. Sitting down at my dinner table (which, of course, went completely unused for its original purpose), I used the dagger to slice the envelope open and took out the letter inside, but as I pulled it out, I felt something resist. Without thinking, I pulled harder and tore the letter free.

In a flash, the envelope whooshed into ash, burned by a white flame while I held it in my hands. Fire, right after the sun, is a Vampire's worst enemy, and even the sight of it could send the most composed Vampire straight into a wild panic. It did the same to me, making me startle so hard I fell backward, chair and all, as searing pain blasted from my fingertips into my arms. I scampered to my feet and looked at my hands. The phosphorous flash had reduced the tops of the fingers in my left hand to ash, and my right hand had its index and middle finger completely burned away. "Mierda de perro!" I cursed when I saw the damage, my fingers ending in blackened stumps. It was not that much effort to heal it, even a wound caused by fire was not catastrophic if it was just the ends of an extremity, but it hurt like the Hells. I set my teeth and burned some of the blood in me to heal my fingers, the pain gradually turning into an itch as they reformed, first as semi-solid red blobs of blood, then hardening into skin and bone again.

The letter itself hadn't burned, and it probably hadn't intended to. With my new, still-sore fingers I picked it up from the ground it had lazily flitted to, considerably more slowly than I had.

"I know who you are and what you are, and where you live. I don't have time to deal with you, but get off my back or I will make time."

It wasn't signed, but it didn't have to be. The handwriting was elegant, and the Society of Leopold logo embossed in light blue on the stationary didn't leave any doubt. I'd hoped to be able to investigate and go at her unnoticed, but it seemed she'd gotten wise to me somehow, and the game of cat and mouse I'd hoped for had become a mutual hunt it would seem. Because I wasn't backing off. I couldn't. It wasn't an honour thing (though that played a part, to be sure), but I was ordered by my Master to help Velvet the 'dancer', and the blood bond would make sure I obeyed.

But there was no way I'd go after a Hunter on my own. Well, go after her alone, fine, but this would promise to be an extended little game, and a Hunter had one immense advantage over a Vampire: once they knew where our Haven was, all they had to do was break in during the day. I'd need, at the very least, someone to guard this place in the daytime. I didn't have a ghoul yet, but my Master would have someone to spare. I didn't call for help often, so when I did, he usually granted my requests.

"Something you need, Tanira?"

"Master, sorry to disturb you."

"That's quite alright. Did you see VV yet?"

Heh, her friends called her VV. It seemed this was a favour from one friend to another rather than a political move. Of course, one didn't preclude the other.

"Yes, I did. She's got a Hunter problem."

"M-hm, I thought as much. Best deal with this subtly, then."

Now for the embarrassing admission. "It's... a bit too late for that. Got a threat from her this evening, telling me to back off or she'd come for me too."

A chuckle at the other end of the line. "Yes, they do so love to threaten. Still, you can handle this, I presume?"

"Yes, yes, of course," I assured, even though I wasn't all that certain. "But I'm worried about the daytime. I don't have anyone to protect me while I sleep."

"Ah yes. I keep expecting you to ask me if you can get a ghoul or two, but you never seem to."

"It... slips my mind every time."

"Well, too late for that now." There was a short silence. "LJ's close to you and available, I'll make sure he gets to you. He looks a bit funny, but he's good people."

"Thank you master."

"Please. You know how valuable you are to me. It's the least I can do."

I assumed by 'valuable' he meant 'useful'. In his position he couldn't permit himself to value others on any other scale than that of usefulness. "I'm just being loyal, Master."

"And I'm glad to have your loyalty, Tanira. I'm sure you'll be able to deal with this. Be safe, and call me if there's anything you need."

"I will, thank you."

There was a click and a busy tone. My Master was never one for saying goodbye on the telephone.

I didn't know whoever the fuck LJ was, but if my Master assured me he was 'good people', then I believed him. He probably wouldn't be here right away though, and with a Hunter out to get me, I figured it might be best not to sit around and wait.

I took a cab to Hollywood again, this time to the Asp Hole, where I'd find another possible target for our tramp-stamped Huntress. As I got in, with a driver I didn't know, I was reminded of the incident the night before, with the female driver rear-ending the cab I'd come in. Shit, of course! I hadn't gotten a decent look at the woman, but I was willing to bet the farm that it had been her. I could just see it in front of me. Bang, 'oh my God I'm sorry!' blah, blah, exchange insurance info, and then, 'Hey, that woman you were driving, she looked like a friend of mine. You've driven her before? She live here? What's her name? Ah, no, sorry, then it wasn't her. Bye!'.

Fuck! I should have been less nonchalant about the suspiciously coincidental collision, but dammit, hindsight is always 20/20 isn't it? The situation was as it was now, and nothing I could do.

"Asp Hole, miss."

The club in question was right on Hollywood Boulevard, which was actually quite lucky, since it meant I'd get plenty of opportunities to replenish the blood I'd lost from healing my fingers. Combined with the blood it takes to Awaken every night, healing had drained quite a lot, and I felt more than a bit hungry. After all, I'd only taken a small bit from Misty. Blood dolls were only good for taking small amounts, or they'd eventually die from the repeated blood loss.

The Asp Hole was, like Vesuvius, an expensive-looking up-scale club, though this one was of the traditional dance-and-get-drunk-and-hope-you'll-get-laid variety. Weird-ass music pumped through the speakers, and people danced in the most absurd ways. The music itself was just a lot of tuneless low buzzing and blaring without any melody or rhythm. It sounded like a vacuum cleaner with a cold and high on speed. The DJ wore a T-shirt saying Strillex or Strillax or whatever the fuck it was. It was one of the most awful things I'd ever heard. Anyone who appreciated this kind of 'music' was obviously a trend-hopping shitbird.

"What'll it be, miss?" the bartender asked, leaning over so he could hear me over the god-awful music.

"I need to speak to the owner, actually," I shouted over the music.

"Ash?"

"Uh, yeah, I think so."

"He's upstairs, I think," the bartender hollered, pointing his thumb at the balcony.

"Thanks."

It wasn't all that hard to figure out which of the people on the balcony Ash was, given that all of them except one were female, swarming over the only man sitting at the table. Apparently the guy was a celebrity of some sort. I'd never really understood the fascination with celebrities. Their shit smells just as bad as anyone else's. Well, if they aren't dead.

As I came up, the groupies all looked at me, all with their eyes full of barely concealed back-off-bitch hostility. The only one whose eyes had an entirely different look, was the man, Ash, the owner of the club. His eyes had a mixture of uncertainty and recognition. Velvet must have told him I'd come. I saw his eyes move and he motioned the other girls to go away. The barely concealed looks of hostility now turned into open hatred. Stupid putas.

Ash motioned for me to sit down at his table. The music wasn't so hard on the balcony, so we'd at least be able to have a conversation. "You're the help the Archon sent, are you?" He sounded less than enthusiastic, his voice a low and disinterested mutter.

"Uh, yeah. I was hoping you could tell me a little more about this Chastity character?"

His fingers absently played with the untouched glass of whisky-cola on the table. "Not much to tell. VV thinks she's a Hunter and she's probably right." He kept staring at the glass sullenly.

"Something wrong?"

He gave a humourless laugh. "Everything's wrong. Having to spend my nights acting like a fake celebrity in my club is wrong. Having to wake up every evening hating myself and what I've become is wrong. Having to fake in front of the humans that I'm happy and funny is wrong."

Ugh, another of the ones that had let themselves go. Being dead was sad, and sadness was one of the few emotions we could still genuinely feel, but god dammit, sitting around like a wet mop, crying over your state and showing everyone how much of a whiner you were wasn't the way to deal with it. Keep your dejection and your bloody tears and your self-loathing for when you're alone, jackass. "This isn't the time for melancholy. What do you know of her?"

I seemed to get through somewhat, because he raised his head and focused on the matter at hand. He was handsome, magnetically so, and now that I got a better look of him, I knew where I'd seen the face before. This was Ash Rivers, the young movie star, swooned over by girls and emulated by men the world over, heralded as the new James Dean, and living up to that comparison to the very end, by crashing his new Porsche straight into a brick wall, or so the papers had reported. He'd 'miraculously survived' and had secluded himself from the world to recover, in the estate of his director, Isaac Abrams. The papers went to town on the story, launching the rumour of a homosexual sugar daddy relationship between mentor and pupil, but we Kindred knew better, especially when Rivers never returned to filmmaking. I knew he'd gone into the club business somewhere but I hadn't made the link yet, until now.

"The supposed Hunter?"

"You can scratch the 'supposed', she's definitely a Hunter," I informed him.

He nodded slowly. "Though so. I can't tell you much though. She's blonde and average-looking. Wanted to start as a waitress, but by coincidence I'd heard the story of an employee named Chastity who kept a gun in her locker from VV, so I sent her away. She came by a few times after that, asking around for me, but she never came to see me directly. Funny, because I was here every time she asked." He gave a sad chuckle. "Of course I was. Where else would I go."

Ugh, stick to the present matter, llorón. "That's all you know of her?"

"Yeah."

I got up, frustrated. This hadn't been any help at all. God damn waste of time. "Right, well, thanks I guess. Got someone to watch over you during the day?"

He shrugged, staring at his glass again. "Let her come get me if she wants to. I don't care."

"Suit yourself." God damn I was hungry and this wet blanket had only made it worse. Then again, this was a club, and clubs were places where people gathered to find someone to spend time alone with, so I was in the right place.

I descended again and took a seat at the bar, ordering a beer just so they wouldn't kick me out for not ordering anything.

"A beer?" the bartender asked. "Miss, this is a club, not a dive. Long drinks and cocktails only."

Ugh, second time in two nights I was silently accused of having no class. "Uh... give me a gin & tonic then."

With a nod, the bartender turned and began pouring. "Sure thing."

"I got it," a man shouted over the music.

"What?" the bartender shouted.

"Her drink," he gesticulated at me. "It's on me." Yep, hook, line and sinker. He looked handsome enough if a little too meticulously groomed. And his rather lame faux-hawk haircut definitely didn't do him credit. And he seemed a bit young to be hitting on me. I was Embraced when I was thirty (and I looked twenty-five, of course), but this guy was, what, eighteen? Looked a bit too young to be paying for my drinks, but hey, don't look a gift meal in the mouth.

Flashing my most seductive smile (gah, I hated the whole sleaziness that came with trying to score a meal the lover-not-fighter way), I said, thanks, and raised my glass to him. I set it back down on the counter, hoping he wouldn't ask why I didn't take a drink. Of course he did, hollering, "Not drinking?"

I'd heard him well enough, but I still pointed at my ear and shook my head. Pretending I couldn't hear him over the music had two advantages: he couldn't ask me why I didn't drink, and I had an excuse to take him to a more... private spot. He made an understanding face and inhaled to shout harder, but I stopped him and pointed to the toilets instead, giving him the sleaziest, slimiest wink I could. He leered at me and got off his bar stool. I was ravenous, so good thing this guy had come along. This was going to be too easy.

We crashed into the toilets, which were thankfully empty, and he shoved me against the wall and kissed me hard on the mouth, his lips and breath sickeningly warm. I let him, running my hands through his hair, even though the whole thing absolutely disgusted me. Then I whirled him around and pushed him with his butt against the sink, whispering the line in his ear, the line I always used, and which had become my personal 'gotcha': "I have to tell you something..."

It was only a matter of pulling my upper lip back and letting the fangs sink into his neck. God I was hungry! But just as my upper jaw snapped snap downwards and drew blood, my eyes fell on the mirror and on the platinum blonde haired woman standing behind me with a snarling face, a wooden stake held high. God dammit it was a fucking trap!

I shoved the bait with the back of his head into the mirror and his arms let go of my waist, so I could throw myself to the side. I crashed into one of the stall doors, but the stake missed me, the tip scratching my shoulder, nicking the leather of my jacket but not plunging through my heart and leaving me at their mercy.

The faux-hawk man howled in pain, clutching the back of his head as I lost my balance and cracked my own head on the tiles. Taking advantage that I was down, the blonde lifted her stake again. I lashed out with my foot, catching her in the belly, knocking the wind from her. She staggered back, but still tried to attack with the stake, but by then, my gun was out and aimed at her head. "Try it, puta," I growled from the ground.

Time stood still for a moment, and then the woman snarled, "You're not gonna shoot."

"Come at me with that stake again and you'll see."

She stood over me for a moment, her jaw working, deciding whether or not to risk it. "You'll get the cops on your c – "

"I'll try my chances with the cops," I insisted. "I'm not letting you take me."

Still struggling to decide, she kept clenching the stake, but when she realized I was serious – and I was, no way I was letting a Hunter stake me and carry me off to do fuck-knows-what to me when I was defenceless – she snarled, "Fuck!" and dropped the stake, grabbing her groggy companion by the collar and dragging him out of the toilet.

I wasn't going to let them run and come back another time, no god damn way, so I got to my feet and ran out of the toilet, in time to see them both bolt through the front doors. Pushing my way through the crowd (and earning several deliveries of the classic indignant "Hey!"), I went after them, shoving the double doors out of my way.

Faux hawk had gotten his wits back, and even though he bled from the back of his head, he managed a pretty impressive sprint. He was probably just a henchman, so I let him run off into the alleys, darting instead after the blonde who'd run in the other direction.

She'd crossed the Boulevard and made for the alleys on the other side of the street, hoping she could vanish in them. I would have easily caught her if I'd been able to use my vampiric Celerity, but the Masquerade had to be upheld, and anyone seeing me zipping after her faster than an arrow would certainly not attribute that to diligent training. So I ran at normal speed, well, normal slowness, chasing after her as she disappeared in the darkness of the alleys of Hollywood. I heard a crash in an alley to my right, and immediately took that direction, leaping over the bum whose shopping trolley filled with cans the Hunter had knocked over. I saw her climb up on a shoulder-high wall, and threw myself over it, after her. We both emerged from the alleys onto another broad street, though this one was nothing like Hollywood Boulevard. There I caught up with her, leaping at her and taking her down. We both crashed to the ground, tumbling over each other and raining ineffective blows onto each other. I burned the last of the blood I had in me to boost my strength with my vampiric Potence, but due to my almost empty blood reserves, it only succeeded in giving me a little bit of extra strength. I felt a hard punch whack me in the midriff, and another socking me in the ear, but I grabbed her by the collar, lifted her up and smacked her hard against the wall, breaking her resistance.

"This is the L.A.P.D.! Remain where you are and surrender yourselves to the arriving officers," a loudspeaker shouted above us, accompanied by the sound of a helicopter rotor, and we were instantly bathed in bright, pale blue light. A siren let out a brief whoop and a squad car stopped on the other side of the street, two cops leaping out of it and walking briskly towards us, their hands on their weapons.

The Hunter and I briefly locked eyes and I knew she was thinking the same thing. I let go of her and we both bolted in opposite directions, back into the alleyways where the helicopter light couldn't follow us. The cops didn't give chase. They wouldn't risk their lives chasing a suspect, each alone, over a street brawl. It had been an extreme coincidence that the helicopter had passed by right at the time we'd started scrapping. Dammit, god dammit, everything worked against me. Well, almost everything. The chopper set off after the platinum blonde bitch instead of me, so at least that was a little golpe de suerte.

When I was certain the cops weren't coming after me, I slowed to a walk and decided to do something about the ravenous hunger eating at me. The hungrier you were, the weaker, and conversely, the more powerful the Beast became.

But some barfly had been kind enough to head into the alleys for a midnight piss, not knowing he'd be losing bodily fluids from two parts of his body that night. I stood behind him, waited for him to zip up (I didn't want to be sprayed by a flopping human liquid waste hose during feeding) then grabbed his hair, the frustration and rage at missing my chance at the Hunter gripping me, and smacked his forehead hard against the wall, catching his limp body and setting my fangs into his neck. I left him in the alley with a bleeding head wound. Nothing too serious, he'd probably just think he'd fallen forward against the wall while peeing, but cracking the poor fool's head against the wall had taken at least some of the frustration out, and the joy of feeding, even if it wasn't too much, had done the rest.

I was done for the night though, time to head back home and see if that LJ caso had arrived yet. People using abbreviations for first names usually didn't make a good first impression with me.

The lobby was as it always was: cleaned meticulously in the morning, and then filled up with trash and litter during the day and night. One thing was different than normal, though. I'd always seen the lobby entirely empty, and now there was actually someone there. And I sure as Hell hoped it wasn't the guy my Master had sent.

I avoided eye contact and walked as casually as I could to the elevator, hoping I wouldn't hear the guy saying, Yo, your name Del Rey?

I pressed the elevator button and waited as the cracked display above it counted down from 6.

"Yo, your name Del Rey?"

FUCCKKKK

I tried to avoid my frustrated and disappointed slouch as much as I could, then turned around. "Yeah. That's me."

He smiled and tapped his chest with the two forefingers of both hands. "Name's LJ, girl." The last hope I had that this would be a mistake was crushed. "Heard you needed some muscle?"

"No," I said, irritated, "I need someone to watch my door during the day." I nudged my head at the elevator, motioning for him to get in, though I didn't really feel like sharing an elevator with the guy.

His enthusiasm was unabated as he got in the elevator. "Shit, I can do that too, man. You expectin' trouble?"

"No, I need someone to make sure people don't brush against the wet paint."

That put a damper on his rotten good cheer at least. "Hey, what's all the bile about?"

'I'm just not fun to be around."

"Shit. Might as well get along for the time I'll be here."

The elevator opened and I stepped out. "Do a good job and we'll get along." I slid the pass card over the reader and my door opened. "Wait here a second."

"Word."

I closed the door behind me and took my cell phone, speed dialling my Master's number. Come on, he couldn't be serious.

"Tanira. Did LJ arrive?"

"Yes, Master, he did, but – "

"Good. He can be a bit bothersome at times, but he can be trusted and he's competent."

"Master…"

There was a sigh at the other end of the line. He probably knew what was coming. "Yes?"

"Did you… did you have to send me… well…"

"A black guy?"

"…Yeah."

"Tanira, LJ's one of my best. And he doesn't care about skin colour, even if you do. I don't want you to start complaining about past events. You need to deal with it and move on, and judge people based on their merits rather than their skin."

"Yes, but…"

He was gentle, but final. "No buts, Tanira. Consider this as an occasion to unlearn some prejudices. Give him a chance and he'll prove he's worth it. You wanted a day-watcher, I sent you one. I'm sure you'll both get along if you put your hang-ups aside for a moment."

I could say nothing else than, "… alright, I'll do my best. Sorry to bother you."

"No bother, I'm in the car anyway. By the way, this whole Hunter thing might be worth investigating more. Can you e-mail me a nightly report of events?"

"Absolutely, Master."

"Good. Glad I can count on you. Take care."

"I will."

Looked like I was stuck with the chimney sweep. God dammit. I opened the door again. "Come on in."

"Thanks, girl."

If this guy was going to be my day-watcher, might as well do a bit of effort. "My name's Tanira. You can uh, call me that if you like."

"Sure. As you know, I'm LJ." LJ wasn't exactly subtle about his skin colour and subculture, wearing a way-too-large yellow-and-purple basketball shirt of the L.A. Lakers, white shiny pants with the crotch hanging around his knees, and a too-large Lakers cap. A thick tacky gold chain around his neck completed the picture. Fucker watched too much MTV.

"Yeah. As I know."

"Now what's all the hatin' about, girl? I'm here to help you out, remember?" He yawned, probably dead tired from getting up so early. The poor baby.

I stuck to a diplomatic, "You're… not what I expected."

Understanding dawned on him as he threw himself into one of my – well, still the Prince's for now – beige leather sofas. "Now this wouldn't be some kinda race thing, would it?"

"What if it was?" I sat down opposite him.

He chuckled. "Judgin' from yo' reaction, it probably is. Works both ways, though. I could hate on you for bein' a border-jumpin' Mexican."

Ha! Nice try. "You could, but my parents were Chilean. So you'd just be making a fool of yourself."

"Mexican, Chilean, same difference. Anyway, it's 'cause of my skin, right?" To my surprise, he spread his hands and said, "It's cool tho'. You're judgin' me, but I ain't judgin' you back. Cause I know how easy it is to get all prejudiced."

"Really."

"Yeah, man. You see that shit on the TV, media feedin' you bullshit stereotypes. It ain't your fault, it's the damn media, man. Settin' us up against each other. Human beings, man, that's what we are, and we're hatin' each other 'cause of superficial bullshit, because that what they tryin' to teach us."

"It's not just the media," I said flatly. Skin colour was one thing, but this guy clearly didn't belong to the law-abiding segment of the black community. He was dressed like they had been, on that last night of my life. "You're justifying yourself with that PC ebony-and-ivory talk. But at the same time, you do all the effort you can to portray yourself as a badass gangster. I mean, look at you."

"What, these digs?" He seemed to find it funny. "Girl, they just mean I'm some black dude who likes b-ball."

"All 'black dudes who like b-ball' also like dealing drugs or shooting other 'dudes' or both," I retorted. I'd dealt with a lot of his kind in real life, and they were never good news. The rare times you didn't find a gun on them, you found a knife.

He leaned forward, dead serious. "Girl, I'll have you know, I never touched anything more'n a few blunts, and I never shot anyone before I met you guys." He sniffed, leaning backward. "Y'all put me on the path o' crime, so to speak."

I really didn't feel like continuing that discussion, and I certainly didn't intend to give him the satisfaction of refuting my claims with things he could easily make up. "Look, I didn't ask for a conversation partner, as long as you do a decent job watching this place while I sleep, we'll get along fine."

"Alright man," he said, letting it go too. "But girl, all that hate, that's no good for you. You gotta rise above, man." He stood up, "Where yo' fridge at? Can use a drink."

"Where most fridges are. In the kitchen."

"Cool." He walked to the kitchen, in that 'swaggering' way they all did. "Whatcha got in there? I know you types don't drink an' shit, but you got somethin' for guests, right?" With a chuckle, he added, "Don't worry, it don't gotta be no malt liquor."

Well, at least he could joke about it. "There's beer and coke, I think. Might be past the expiration date already."

"Like you, huh?" he joked, opening a can of cola with its familiar psst-chack-sound. He was lucky my mood wasn't too foul and I was able to ignore the in-bad-taste joke.

I supposed I had to show him around, so he'd at least know the apartment he'd be guarding. "Alright, so you've seen the living room and the kitchen. Bathroom's upstairs on the mezzanine."

He laughed. "The mezzanine? Damn, girl, just say 'balcony'."

"It's not a balcony," I said back, only realizing I sounded horribly prissy afterward, "It's a mezzanine."

With another laugh, he said, "Aight man, mezzanine, suit yourself."

"Right. Also there is my office. Well, it's just a chair and a computer." It looked out over the main apartment floor, which was pleasant for working and allowed me to watch some TV while I typed. "My bedroom's there, too."

He chuckled and with a leer, said, "I bet ain't much that happens in there anymore, word?"

Anger flared up in me, both at the joke itself and the casual tone in which he said it. To him, me no longer being alive or ever knowing things like the joy of sex again was nothing but a joke, something we could both sit back and laugh at. I felt my teeth start to clench, but I fought the anger, keeping it suppressed. "If you want to live past tonight, don't joke about my state again."

"Whoa, whoa," he immediately said. "Shit, that was my bad. Was just tryin' to lighten the mood, you know?"

"That's not the way to do it."

"Shit, you're damn right. Sorry, girl, I shoulda known that'd make you feel bad."

"Yeah."

Uncomfortably, he took a drink of his coke. "So, what kinda trouble you expectin'?"

"Some pesky human's got it in for me."

He made a one-sided shrug. "So? Just tear that punk-ass a new shitter, man."

"It's not that simple. These aren't the Middle Ages," I explained, annoyed. "You can't just lop someone's head off and blame it on the fucking Vikings or something."

"Aight, I 'preciate that," he said, looking around the apartment. "An' ain't none of my b'iness, really." He lifted his ridiculous Lakers shirt to show the .45 in his belt. "But whatever bitch comes through that door to mess wit' you gets a cap in his ass."

"It'll probably be 'her' ass. And tucking a pistol in your belt is asking to get a few inches of your own dick shot off."

"I got plenty to spare, girl."

"Ugh, should have seen that one coming." Black guys and their dick size boasts all the time. "Anyway, I'm starting to feel dawn coming, so I'm going to lie down." I pointed at the door to my bedroom. "You don't come in there under any circumstance. Is that clear?"

"Crystal, girl."

"I mean it. You come in there and I'll tear your head off." I meant it alright.

It all seemed to amuse him. "Don't worry, girl. You ain't that good-lookin'." Even in my urgency to explain to him that he wasn't to enter my damn room no matter what, I still hoped he was saying that just to get a rise out of me.

"Hey, yo, can I use your computer? Checkin' my emails an' shit?"

"Uh… yeah, sure. Just no porn."

"Shee-it. Count on you to take the fun outta computers."

"I'm a total aguafiestas. Plus, LaCroix pays for the Internet, and who knows what kind of stuff he keeps tabs on. But hey," I figured I owed the guy some encouragement, even though he was a massive dickhead. "I mean it about doing a good job. I'll really appreciate it if you do. I'm just not good at trusting people, and especially…"

"… Basketball fans?"

To put it diplomatically, yes. "Yeah. Basketball fans."

He seemed dead serious when he said, "Hey look, the Man told me you might be, y'know, kinda bitchy when you saw me. Cuz of your past an' all. And I got respect for what happened to you, whatever it was. But I ain't those people who did whatever-the-fuck to you. Gimme a straight chance and I'll show you I'm good for it."

It was difficult to say, but I managed it nonetheless. "I'll try, and don't take this personally, okay? Some things are just… hard to get over."

"I get ya, girl. I'll keep you safe today." He tapped his heart with his fist. "You just go rest. Don't think of me as a black guy, think of me as LJ, aight? Rise above."

"Yeah." It'd be hard to feel safe with him in the apartment, but my Master had said I'd have to make do, so there was no changing things, I supposed. Another wave of fatigue washed over me. "I need to sleep now. No funny business around here, alright?"

He looked completely sincere when he said, "Girl, Imma respect yo' crib an' guard this place with my life. Ain't no one comin' in here without goin' through me."

"Good."

"You go an' rest now."

My eyes were practically falling closed when I trudged to my bed, and not even bothering to undress, I threw myself down on it, and disappeared off the world for another day.