I took another slurp of my tea (orange pekoe, six sugars) and stuck out my left foot. Yep, last season's Brunos still looked great. Hell, they could be from the last decade and still look great. Quality costs... and it lasts, too.
Marc Spangler, one of my roommates, slouched into the kitchen, yawning. I withdrew my leg before he tripped and brained himself on the microwave. He looked like pan-fried hell, which was to say, he looked like he just came off shift. Since moving in with an emergency ward physician, I've discovered that your average doc comes off shift grimier than your average garbageman.
I greeted him warmly. "Another hard afternoon saving lives and seducing the janitor?"
"Another hard night suckering poor slobs out of their precious lifeblood?"
"Yep," we both said.
He poured himself a glass of milk and sat down across from me. "You look like you need some toast," I prompted.
"Forget it. I'm not eating food so you can get off on it secondhand. 'Ooh, ooh, Marc, make sure you smear the butter allllll over the bread... now let me smell it... don't you want some sweet, sweet jelly with that?' I've gained seven pounds since I moved in, you cow."
"You should have more respect for the dead," I said solemnly, and we both cracked up.
"God, what a day," he said. His hair was growing in nicely (he'd gone through a head-shaving phase this past summer), so now he looked like a clean Brillo pad with friendly green eyes. I wished my eyes were like that, but mine were murky, like fridge mold. His were clear, like lagoon water.
"Death? Bloodletting? Gang war?" Unlikely in Minnesota, but he looked pretty whipped.
"No, the fucking administration changed all the forms again." He rubbed his eyebrows. "Every time they do it, there's a six-month learning curve. Then when we've figured out who has to sign what and in what order, they change them again. You know, in the name of efficiency."
"That blows," I said sympathetically.
"What about you, what'd you do? Chomp on any would-be rapists? Or was tonight one of the nights you didn't bother to get anything to eat?"
"The second one. Oh, and I crashed an AA meeting."
He was halfway to the fridge for a milk refill and froze like I'd yelled "I see a Republican!"
"You did what?"
"Crashed an AA meeting. Did you know they film those now?"
"They what?"
"I was kind of nervous because I didn't know if I'd have to, y'know, prove I was a drunk or if they'd take my word for it, or if I needed a note from a doctor or bartender or something, and it was kind of weird with the camera lights and all-"
He was giving me the strangest look. Usually I got that look from Sinclair. "It doesn't work like that."
"Yeah, I know, I found out. Really nice bunch of people. Kind of jumpy, but very friendly. Had to dodge the reporter, though."
"Reporter-" He shook his head. "But Betsy... why did you go?"
"Isn't it obvious?" I asked, a little irritably. Marc was usually sharper than this. "I drink blood."
"And did it work?" he asked with exaggerated concern.
"No, dimwad, it did not. The reporter and the lights freaked me out, so I left early. But I might go back." I took another gulp of tea. Needed more sugar. I dumped some in and added, "Yep, I just might. Maybe they don't teach you the trick until you've gone a few times."
"It's not a secret handshake, honey." He laughed, but not like he thought what I'd said was funny. "But you could try that, see how that works."
"What's your damage? Maybe you should have a drink," I joked.
"I'm a recovering alcoholic."
"Oh, you are not."
"Betsy. I am."
"Nuh-uh!"
"Uh-huh."
I fought down escalating panic. Sure, I hadn't known Marc as long as I'd known, say, Jessica, but still. You'd think he would have brought something like that up. Or-ugh!-maybe he had, and I'd been so obsessed with the events of the past six months I hadn't-
"Don't worry," he said, reading my aghast expression and interpreting it correctly. "I never told you before."
"Well, I... I guess I should have noticed." I could put away a case of plum wine a month, and Jessica liked her daiquiris, and Sinclair went through grasshoppers like there was gonna be a cr
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