When he finally looked up, I saw his eyes were even darker than his hair, and the whites were incredibly white. His nose swooped down right out of that arch, like a prince's in a Byzantine mosaic. They were all full of vampire stuff these days.Īnyway, his lips were lovely, sharply sculpted, and he had arched dark brows. The details depended on which newspaper you read. The politically correct theory, the one the vamps themselves publicly backed, had it that this guy was the victim of a virus that left him apparently dead for a couple of days and thereafter allergic to sunlight, silver, and garlic. He was pale, of course hey, he was dead, if you believed the old tales. He had thick brown hair, combed straight back and brushing his collar, and his long sideburns seemed curiously old-fashioned. He was a little under six feet, I estimated.
He seemed lost in thought, and I had a chance to give him a good once-over before he looked up. I'm kind of tense, and I could feel my smile yanking the corners of my mouth up. I hoped that my lipstick was still even and my ponytail was still neat. I grabbed my tray and pad and went over to the vampire's table. Sam Merlotte, my boss, looked up from the drink he was mixing and gave me a tiny smile. I could have danced with joy, and in fact I did do a little step right there by the bar. They couldn't tell! But to me, his skin had a little glow, and I just knew. It amazed me when no one else turned around to stare. So little treats count a lot with me.Īnd he sat at one of my tables - the vampire. That's how I try to think of it.Įither way, the result is that I almost never have a date. I look good in the warm-weather waitress outfit Sam picked for us: black shorts, white T, white socks, black Nikes.īut I have a disability. I'm blond and blue-eyed and twenty-five, and my legs are strong and my bosom is substantial, and I have a waspy waistline. It's not that long a drive from Bon Temps to New Orleans, and everyone who came into the bar said that if you threw a rock on a street corner you'd hit one. We had all the other minorities in our little town - why not the newest, the legally recognized undead? But rural northern Louisiana wasn't too tempting to vampires, apparently on the other hand, New Orleans was a real center for them - the whole Anne Rice thing, right?
I'D BEEN WAITING for the vampire for years when he walked into the bar.Įver since vampires came out of the coffin (as they laughingly put it) four years ago, I'd hoped one would come to Bon Temps.
0 kommentar(er)
