It's the next day, you're at work, and you arrived about 5 hours ago. So it's about 3 in the afternoon. Jason is at the window today cooking, "Table 2," He calls, setting 2 plates down on the counter in the window. You grab both of them and carry the plates of etouffee across the restaurant without using your tray. You've spent most of your shift thinking about Eric, ignoring Jason's snide comments, and talking to Dalia about Eric. You don't give her many details, you refrain from telling her he's a vampire too. That wouldn't go well, not without proof, but either way, it wouldn't go well. You understood why humans aren't supposed to know. And if they find out, they're most likely killed, like you almost were in the basement 2 months ago. But they spared you for reasons unknown to you. You're glad they did, and you're glad you're a part of this world now. Even if you got hurt more often because of it.
You pass Layla as you bring the plates over to their owners, she winks at you and your roll your eyes and smile despite yourself. Since yesterday, she kept asking you about Bill and why he was staring at you. You told her his name and told her he lives here in Bon Temps, that was it. If only she knew how creepy it is and how often he came in during the past month. You hope he doesn't come into the restaurant tonight, but you feel like he might. He might have some questions to ask the customers, at least you hope he does. It's not that you want to see him, you just want to find this missing girl and Jenna's killer. And if he was looking for her, you felt better about the chances of him finding Sadie. You hope she's still alive, but she's been missing for two months. She could've been trafficked, she'd be in an entirely different country by now if she was, that concerned you more than anything. She could be dead by now too, but you don't want to think about that, especially not now at work.
Sitting at table 2 is Sheriff Dearborne and his wife. He's looking around strangely, he seems a little paranoid. You gently drop the plates in front of them, "Enjoy your meal." You say politely, strolling back over to the bar before they can thank you or say anything else. You don't like the Sheriff of Bon Temps very much, especially after meeting the vampire Sheriff. The human one doesn't do a very good job of searching for missing waitresses. You'd rather not talk to him right now, not any more than you have to. Not now, he looks busy not talking to his wife. You sort of feel bad for his wife, and him too. But not as much because he's bad at his job, at least you think so. Not that you could judge him entirely, you have no idea what evidence they've already gathered.
"Do you think he'll come in tonight?" Layla asks you from the kitchen, she's grabbing some boudin balls from Frank, he's standing behind Jason working the fryer. Frank is an older man, an alcoholic with too many kids to take care of, he's also kind of an asshole like Jason. They love working together. You know who she's talking about, Bill. You roll your eyes again and slide a tumbler of beer across the bar, receiving a thank you from Lewis in return. He arrived just a few moments ago, at his usual time. You're not sure if he'll come into the restaurant, but you want him to. The sun couldn't go down any faster.
You shrug, "I don't know, maybe he was looking at you last night instead of me." Layla smiles, but you hope he wasn't looking at her last night. He could drain her dry and you wouldn't be able to do a thing to stop it if he truly wanted to. You know he was looking at you, there's no question about that. But it makes Layla feel good about herself, rightfully so, she's beautiful. But even she knows her workplace isn't the best place to find a boyfriend.
"Maybe he was looking at me." Jason pipes up, fluttering his eyelashes at the two of you. Layla tosses a rag at him that he catches with his face. He grabs it and tosses it back at her, sticking his tongue out childishly as he does. Layla returns the gesture. Jason isn't very passionate about cooking, it isn't his first choice for a job. That was the first thing you knew about him, and he made it obvious. But he's good at it and so are Frank and John.
"Are you talking about Eric?" Dalia asks from behind you, you grimace. You look over your shoulder at her and she raises her eyebrows, tilting her head. The look on your face is an answer to her question, a clear no, "Another one? Jesus." She isn't judging you, she's just surprised. She knows about your lack of sexual history. You've had sex before, but it's been a while. You didn't get much play at Sonic, the uniforms aren't flattering and the customers are always married men or old people.
"Who's Eric?" Layla inquires, "I'll be right with you!" She calls to an angry customer over her shoulder before looking at you with an eyebrow raised, "Tell me." She demands, resting a hand on her hip. You glance over at Jason, noticing him put a few more plates on the counter. You grab the one you recognize, just a steak, asked for by a man at table 5. Probably prepared by John, he's standing by the grill.
"Sorry, I'll tell you later." You say, taking the steak over to table 5. You're not sorry, and you might not tell them later. But they would force you to tell them, it wouldn't take much pressure either. You don't want to talk about Bill, you want to talk about Eric. And you couldn't explain the situation with Bill without talking about the stalking. So you're glad they aren't questioning you about him. You drop the plate in front of the heavy-set man, "Enjoy your meal." You say to him, walking back over to table 2, where the Sheriff is sitting. You don't want to talk to Layla and Dalia just yet. You'd prefer to prolong those conversations.
"Do you mind sending—" The Sheriff points over at Dalia and Layla, "Those two over to my table, please?" You cock an eyebrow and look over at them. Layla's dealing with an angry customer and Dalia is shaking the cocktail shaker. You have a vague idea of why he's asking for them, but you don't know why it took him so long to do so. If they were working the night of her disappearance, he should've interviewed them a long time ago. You don't know who Sadie is, but Earl didn't seem to think it was important enough to report her missing. And nobody else noticed, not until recently, or the Sheriff would've interviewed people by now. She must've not had any close family members around.
"Did none of y'all notice Sadie was missing?" You can't help asking, and it's one of the least polite things you've said to anyone in the restaurant. To a police officer. It's not what you said, it's how you said it. Like you were mocking him. And you meant it too, it's a little ridiculous. You hope you never go missing. He glares at you and before he can say anything, you smile a fake smile and stroll over to Dalia, finally eager to talk about Eric. You don't want to argue with the Sheriff or anything, that would put a target on your back. You don't need that on top of everything else. Everything else is the threat of disappearing and having a (fading) crush on a 1,000-year-old vampire. You've had crushes on some bad people in your life, but never a vampire. This seemed like a new low for you. But he's better than any man you've ever been with, more mature, obviously, and better looking.
Dalia's sliding a margarita across the table when you reach the bar, she wipes the counter with a damp rag and glances over at you, "The Sheriff wants to talk to you and Layla, I think it's about Sadie." Dalia furrows her eyebrows and drops the rag on the bar, rounding it and walking over to Layla to whisper in her ear. They both look angry as they walk over to Sheriff Dearborne, and you're glad. You take over for Dalia, pouring Jack Daniels into a glass filled with ice. Lewis likes beer, whiskey, beer, water, whiskey, beer, whiskey, and then water. Not very healthy, and you often told him he should probably go to AA, but that never ended well. So you stopped telling him that and just let him drink. None of his buddies are here today so you'll have to call a taxi for him. Unless one of them shows up later in the night. You're closing tonight with Dalia and Jason, Layla gets off in about 2 hours and so do John and the dishwashers and busboys. The three of you, and Earl, could handle the crowd tonight. It's only Tuesday. The weekends are far busier.
You slide the glass across the bar, "Thanks Hon," Lewis says gruffly, drinking the glass of whiskey like it's a shot. You turn to face the drink machine, grabbing one of the larger glasses beside it to fill it with ice and water for the man. He reminds you of your late uncle, also an addict, just in a different way. The noise of the ice falling into the glass is muffled by the rowdy customers around you, trying to get your attention. You slide it across the bar once the water's inside, and Lewis nods at you gratefully. You glance over at the Sheriff, he's no longer sitting at his table, Layla and Dalia are nowhere to be found. They probably went somewhere a little less loud, they're witnesses and he needs to hear them and maybe record them.
After 3 hours of taking credit cards and bills and serving drinks, you still haven't seen Dalia or Layla. You were so distracted by your work, you didn't notice them returning or leaving or anything at all. They could be at the police station, that's your first thought. Maybe one of them had something to do with Sadie's disappearance, that seemed improbable to you but it's not impossible. You were beginning to understand that nothing is impossible, not anymore. Maybe Frankenstein's monster is real. Sarah would be amused. You're surprised thoughts of Sarah pop into your brain during a situation as serious as this, and you listen to your gut. You walk over to the phone Earl allowed his employees to use during emergencies and dial the non-emergency number for the police department. Just in case they're at the station.
While you're on the phone, Bill walks into the bar and immediately glances over at you. The phone rings once, twice, "Hey Sheriff Dearborne, where are my co-workers?" You ask a little accusatorially, leaning against the wood pillar next to the phone on the wall. You have a right to be pissed and suspicious, you have to do extra work because of all three of them. He could've questioned them inside the restaurant in a booth near the back instead of taking them to the station. You needed Layla's help. But it doesn't matter much, she'd have been done with work 2 hours ago.
"Uh, I'm still getting their alibis checked out, until that's done, they can't leave," He says, and you hang up. You don't want to be on the phone for too long, Earl would appear out of thin air to scold you if you were. He does that to you if you spend more than 10 minutes on the phone. Not abnormal for a business owner, the restaurant is too fast-paced for you to get distracted anyway. After you hang up, you slide a large mug of beer across the table over to Lewis. You're still worried about Layla and Dalia, but you trust the Sheriff, he wouldn't lie to you. If he's looking into what they were doing on the night of her disappearance, one of them could be a suspect. Or both of them.
"Thanks," Lewis says gruffly and you nod your head and glance over at Bill. He's seated in a booth near the back, your section again. You knew he would show up. You grab a menu off the counter and walk around the restaurant, asking the customers if they were enjoying their meal and if they needed anything. When you got done with bringing extra napkins to people, ketchup, or refilling drinks, you stride over to Bill and set the laminated menu down on the table in front of him. It's just for show, to make him look normal. A secret between the two of you, Sarah, Pam, Eric, Margot, Henry, and the unnamed woman who took your job. Nice.
"Wine again?" Is all you ask and he nods, smiling up at you politely. You nod at him and walk back over to the bar and grab an open bottle of wine from underneath the counter. Lewis is looking up at you, with an expression you aren't able to read. You can't tell what he's thinking but it doesn't seem good. Maybe he's the one who kidnapped Sadie. After you're done pouring the wine into a glass, you bring it over to Bill and glance around the restaurant at all the customers. You could probably close early tonight, at about 9. There aren't many people eating tonight or drinking at the bar, not as many as there were last night. You're glad, it means less work for you. Even if it felt like more without Dalia and Layla around.
After running plates and drinks back and forth for a while, it's 7:30, and Dalia has arrived. She looks sort of annoyed, and she doesn't say anything to you when she gets behind the bar to slide a glass of water over to a young woman. You glance over at her, "What happened?" You ask, leaning against the counter. She looks a little less irritated now, and you're glad. She tucks a strand of long dark hair behind her ear, glancing over at you for a moment.
"Nothing, it just took way too long." She brushes it off, nodding and smiling politely at a man who asked her for a rum and Coke. You nod, that made sense to you. Layla must have gone home after, her shift would've ended a few hours ago. You'd clock out for her at the end of your shift, maybe she'd earn a little more money. While Dalia pours some rum into a glass, you make your way over to Bill, glancing at his full glass of wine. You don't know why he's here again, he introduced himself to you already. There's really no reason for him to be sitting in the booth with a glass of wine in front of him, and you would tell him so. It's a little creepy. Every time he did it, you thought of all the wine he was wasting. When you didn't know who he was, you hardly noticed it and when you did, you didn't dwell on it for long you're too busy for that. But you noticed it more and more recently, you'd probably end up drinking it when nobody was looking. Sarah drove you here so you wouldn't be driving home with any alcohol in your bloodstream.
"Why are you here Bill?" You question him, resting your palm on the table and looming over him, your notepad is in your other hand. You'd be taking an order at the end of this conversation. Not from him, of course. There's nobody near him, so you're free to be as loud as you want. Not as loud as you want actually, you couldn't scream or anything. That would draw unwanted attention and you'd be embarrassed. He doesn't look surprised at your question. He honestly looks sort of concerned.
He sighs before speaking, "I came here to warn you," You certainly didn't expect him to say something like that, what could he possibly need to warn you about? The last time someone warned you about something, Eric, you didn't have to worry about it at all. So you're a little skeptical, "About Eric." He adds, and you furrow your brows. Both of them warned you about each other, so you're not gonna listen to him just like you managed not to listen to Eric. It doesn't matter, you already spent a month in his presence, there's no turning back time.
"What are you warning me for? I work here now." Is all you say before grabbing the wine glass off the table and tilting your head back to gulp it down. You turn around and take the glass back to the bar so you can refill it. Whatever you feel for Eric is none of his business, and whatever business you have with Eric isn't his business either. Some part of you felt like he would continue coming into the restaurant to stare at you and pretend to drink wine. When you return to the bar Dalia gives you a look, one of suspicion.
"Is that Bill?" She asks, looking at him from over your shoulder. She doesn't look at him for long, she's good at that. Being inconspicuous. But it doesn't matter, he's a vampire. He knew she was looking at him, he could hear every word of your conversation, it doesn't matter much. You never even wanted to talk about him in the first place.
You wave your hand dismissively, "Yeah but it doesn't matter, don't worry about that." You don't want to talk to Bill anymore, he irritated you a little bit. But you'd still have to go over to him. After pouring the wine into the glass, you stroll through the restaurant and over to his table. You set the glass down and smile politely at him, turning away before he can say anything. But before you can walk away, he grabs you by your wrist. You don't react, not wanting to draw attention to yourself and him.
"I'm serious." He lets go of your wrist and you turn away from him, taking a deep breath as you walk through the restaurant. You feel chills run up your spine and goosebumps appear on your arms. Maybe you should listen to him.