“Vampire!”
Cyrus jerked up from his place at the bar. Vampire? Who squealed? Techno music blared and sweaty bodies gyrated before him. A rainbow of colors splashed all over the bar top and glittered on the hanging wine goblets and brandy snifters.
“Come on everyone and dance to the latest by Mamie Lala, Vampire.” The DJ worked the tables and switched the track. The first strains of the Mamie Lala song thumped the floor of the bar.
Cyrus rolled his eyes and resumed drying the tall boy beer glass. He didn’t exactly advertise his...persuasion. Once most women found out he was a vampire they wanted one of two things, to say they’d bedded a vampire or to run the other way. The last one to get to know him beyond his name and preferred blood type was Annabel and she left once she realized he couldn’t provide the things she wanted, like long walks in the sunshine or day trips in the convertible. And he wasn’t really interested in getting married in a church. Call him crazy but the possibility of immolation didn’t really sit well with him.
Candy, one of the waitresses wiggled up next to him. “Like this song?” She bumped him with her hip. “I liked War Horses better. Are you finally gonna ask me out tonight?”
Cyrus placed the glass right side up on the drying towel. “Well, hon, I’m actually thinking about cashing in when the night’s up. Not in a cheery mood.”
“You never are.” She drummed her fingers on the bar top. “Oh hell. He’s here again.” Candy dug her elbow into Cyrus’ side. “Since you refused, I’m asking him to dance.”
Cyrus looked in the direction she pointed. Oh hell was right. He wobbled on his feet for a moment. He’d hoped the guy would come back, but then again, he was a terrible judge of character. For all he knew the guy wasn’t even gay or bi.
Oh well. Right now he had drink orders to fill and more tall boys to wash.
“Beer please?”
Cyrus turned towards the voice, ready to get the order. Instead of a club kid or one of the waitresses, his mystery man smiled and tipped his bottle.
His heart hammered in his chest—odd since Cyrus didn’t really need it. He forced himself forward and flattened his hands on the bar top. “Draft, bottle or house?”
The man tilted his head towards the dance floor. “Your girl there hooked me up with a Bud. Got anything by the house that’s better?”
His girl? Crap. His brain didn’t want to work. What the hell did they have for beer?
“Buddy, stay with us. I just meant I wanted a new beer. You okay?”
Shit. He’d been staring way too long. Cyrus bumbled through the beer selections. “What’ll you have?”
“What do you suggest?”
“I’ll ask Candy. She’s tasted everything on the list and a few I didn’t know we had.”
“You don’t drink?”
Not anything with liquor in it. “Nah. Not any longer.”
As if on cue, Candy bounced up next to the mystery man and pressed her breasts into his shoulder. “Since neither of you want to take me home, why don’t you two go fuck each other.”
“Excuse me?”
“Oh Martin, stuff it—in Cyrus. You can say you had a vampire.” She giggled and shrugged. “Or not.” Giggling again, she flopped her hair over her shoulder.
“I see.” Martin averted his gaze. “Awkward.”
And thanks to Candy, his secret was out and his mystery man not interested.
Shit.
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