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CHAPTER2
“This music is going to make me yack.” Dwayne moaned and put his hands over his ears.
Trying to ignore him wasn’t working. I promised myself I wouldn’t put him out of the car until we were at least a hundred miles outside of Chicago. I figured anything less than that wouldn’t be the kind of walk home that would teach him a lesson.
“First of all, Vampyres can’t yack and I don’t recall asking you to come with me,” I replied and cranked up The Clash.
“You have got to be kidding.” He huffed and flipped the station to Top Forty. “You need me.”
“Really?”
“Oh my god,” Dwayne shrieked. “I luurrve Lady Gaga.”
“That’s why I need you?”
“Wait. What?”
“I need you because you love The Gaga?”
Dwayne rolled his eyes. “Everyone loves The Gaga. You need me because you need to show your hometown and Hank the Hooker that you have a new man in your life.”
“You’re a Vampyre.”
“Yes, and?”
“Well, um…you’re gay.”
“What does that have to do with anything? I am hotter than asphalt in August and I have a huge package.”
While his points were accurate, there was no mistaking his sexual preference. The skinny jeans, starched muscle shirt, canvas Mary Janes and the gold hoop earrings were an undead giveaway.
“You know, I think you should just be my best friend. I want to show them I don’t need a man to make it in this world…okay?” I glanced over and he was crying. Shitshitshit. Why did I always say the wrong thing? “Dwayne, I’m sorry. You can totally be my…”
“You really consider me your best friend?” he blubbered. “I have never had a best friend in all my three hundred years. I’ve tried, but I just…” He broke down and let her rip.
“Yes, you’re my best friend, you idiot. Stop crying. Now.” Snark I could deal with. Tears? Not so much.
“Oh my god, I just feel so happy,” he gushed. “And I want you to know if you change your mind about the boyfriend thing just wink at me four times and I’ll stick my tongue down your throat.”
“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Anything for my best friend. Ohhh Essie, are there any gay bars in Hung?”
This was going to be a wonderful trip.
* * *
One wayin to Hung Island, Georgia. One way out. The bridge was long and the ocean was beautiful. Sun glistened off the water and sparkled like diamonds. Dwayne was quiet for the first time in fifteen hours. As we pulled into town, my gut clenched and I started to sweat. This was stupid—so very stupid. The nostalgic pull of this place was huge and I felt sucked back in immediately.
“Holy Hell,” Dwayne whispered. “It’s beautiful here. How did you leave this place?”
He was right. It was beautiful. It had the small town feel mixed up with the ocean and land full of wild grasses and rolling hills. How did I leave?
“I left because I hate it here,” I lied. “We’ll do the job, castrate the alpha with a butter knife and get out. You got it?”
“Whatever you say, best friend. Whatever you say.” He grinned.
“I’m gonna drop you off at my Grandma Bobby Sue’s. She doesn’t exactly know we’re coming so you have to be on your best behavior.”
