Page 8 of My Road Trip with a Vampire: Season One
Damn. Mom has never called me out on that loophole. I don't really date anyone in this town, so it's easy to keep my entire love life private, but yeah, I’m bi.
“How did you know about that?” My heart is racing even faster, and it’s not just from the cold and the speed. “How do you know where I live?”
“I’ve done my research, Beatrice,” he answers. “I had to know you would be able to handle our line of work."
We pull up to my house. The porchlight is left on for me, and I can see my mom through the window. She’s in her rocking chair holding an embroidery hoop.
My stomach drops. This guy is being creepy as hell. I don’t want him around my mother. She’ll be upset there’s a man here, especially since she doesn’t know him.
“This is a bad idea,” I tell him, but he reaches into the leather pack on his backrest and pulls out a bouquet of flowers.
My eyes go wide. They’re beautiful. Scarlet roses. They must have cost a pretty penny. He came prepared, but that doesn't make me feel better. In fact, I'm disturbed that he's put so much thought into this.
My head is aching as he steps ahead of me to the door.
“Are you going to join me, Bea? Meeting your mother might be less awkward if you introduce me.”
I take a deep breath.
Up until now, the accident that left me open to ghostly visitors has been the most chaotic event of my life. But I’m starting to think meeting this strange man might be a close runner-up.
5
MEETING MOM
Ihave a vivid imagination, and I spend too much time dreaming about a life that looks a lot different from the one I’m living. But this time I think my fantasies are leading me into danger.
The mystery dude knocks on the door even though I’m holding the key to my house. I suppose it's better this way; Mom can turn him away at the door.
She always has the TV’s volume turned way up, but it goes silent, so I know she’s shuffling her way across the floor in her slippers to answer.
The wreath shakes on its hanger as the door opens. It’s like a pitcher of cold water being dumped on my head.
I have no words to explain what’s going on here, and even if I did, I’d have to admit it all makes me seem pretty naive. Mom will sniff out the nonsense of it all and set me straight. I’ll be groveling for my job in the morning when I get my car.
My car.Fuck.
I didn't think this through. I was just pumped to escape Bob's creepiness.
Mom looks just as surprised as I’m expecting her to be when she peeks out the door in her hair rollers.
“Beatrice?” she asks, clutching her robe at her neck as her eyes sweep over my fellow ghost-whisperer. “Who is this man?”
He flashes her a smile, and I’m about to faint with surprise when I see her blush. He's charming the pants off of her.
“Hello, Diane,” he says. “I’m Dennis Murphy. It’s so nice to finally meet you.” I briefly consider asking if that’s his real name, but this isn’t the time or the place.
She looks confused, and she should be. I’ve never mentioned a Dennis. But the crease between her eyebrows smooths out after a few beats of silence, and she smiles.
My mother is smiling at a strange man I brought to the house after sundown. This is even weirder than meeting another person who talks to dead people. Dennis—if that is his real name—places a hand against the doorframe, his tall figure filling most of the opening so I'm peeking over his shoulder.
“Are you going to invite us in?” he asks, his voice smooth as silk. It’s a weird thing to ask, but my mother seems to think this is a display of good manners because she steps back, pulling the door wide open.
“Of course. Please come in, both of you.”
Dennis adjusts his leather jacket, smoothing it over his chest as he looks around.
My house hasn’t been updated, like ever, and I’m aware that it’s not fancy. But he tells my mother she has a beautiful home and nods when she asks if he’s hungry.
