Page 42 of Road Trip with a Vampire
In the meantime, he would hole up in the lovely two-bedroom apartment his employers had secured for him. He’d be in an upscale neighborhood called Lincoln Park for this job, and the apartment pleased him despite his general antipathy towards ostentatious displays of wealth. He could tell in the small details—the hardwood floors, the inlaid kitchen banquette—that the builders had spared little expense in its construction.
The furnishings were sparse. Just a table with three more chairs than he’d need, a leather couch in the living room, and a bed. But he didn’t mind. He would not be here long. Besides—it wasn’t as though he planned on houseguests.
Once the sun set, he would explore. He loved feeding from the wealthy young people who lived in places like this. The organic food they tended to eat did wonderfully delicious things to their blood.
Afterwards, he would consult his trusted safecracking compendium and begin the work his employers were paying him to do.
“Hold still,” I instructed.
“No.”
“Aww, come on.”
Peter sat beside me in the car outside the terrible motel we’d pulled in front of, arms folded tightly across his chest. The intensity of his glare could have set the car on fire. “I will notcome on.”
“Okay, then,” I said. “You’ve left me no choice.”
Without another word, I plopped the chicken hat I’d bought in the Big Earl’s gift shop on his head. From the bill shaped like a chicken’s beak to the wide googly eyes to the faux feathers that stuck out in all directions, this hat was everything I had hoped it would be when I’d seen it through the gift shop window. Before Peter could protest further, I pushed the bright red button on the back of the hat, curious to see what would happen.
A loud clucking sound erupted from it, making us both jump.
“You look great!” I said, not even bothering to hold in my laughter.
Peter was still trying to projectsullen, but he was failing. He fought against the smile twitching at the corners of his lips.
I patted the hat’s bill. It triggered another loud barrage of clucking.
“Why would someone evenmakethis?” Peter was full-on grinning now, giving up the ghost on acting annoyed. His smile lit up his entire face, his dark brown eyes dancing with amusement as they met mine.
Gods,happywas a good look on him.
“You like it,” I accused. “Admit it.”
He shook his head, his smile growing bashful. “Not at all. I must still be Coke-drunk.”
I doubted that. But instead of pointing out that he wasn’tactingdrunk, I looked away, towards the place where we’d be staying.
Our waitress had been right. There had been nothing available for miles in every direction of Big Earl’s. After nearly two hours of searching, we’d only found one motel that had a vacancy.
This one.
Now that we were here, it was obvious why this place had been the lone exception. From the outside, it was the dingiest motel I’d ever seen outside of budget horror films. The redMotelsign out front flashed at ominously irregular intervals, but the neon in theehad gone out, making it look like we’d be staying in a Motl.
“We could camp somewhere instead?” I offered. I hadn’t brought any camping gear with us, but I was no stranger to sleeping rough.
“I don’t sleep outside,” Peter said.
The vehemence in his voice surprised me. “No?”
He shook his head. “I don’t remember my past, but IthinkI’ve always been picky when it comes to where I stay.” He gave me a sheepish smile. “I’m a snob. Remember?”
Two smiles from Peter in five minutes? This was a new record.
“You are,” I teased. I looked back at the Motl skeptically. “You’re a snob, but you’re willing to stay here?”
“Indoor plumbing is better than no indoor plumbing.”
I couldn’t disagree with him there. “Here’s hoping our room has a toilet that flushes.”
