Blood, Sex, and Cocktails

"What the f*ck," I growled as I rapid-fire slid drinks down the bar the next Friday, a week and one day after Eric had learned of my Empathy. He still hadn't tried to take advantage of it, though I suppose Empathy isn't really as useful to him as Telepathy is. Good thing he didn't know the condition of my occasional Telepathy.
"Where the h*ll are my six Disco Lemonades, Legspreader, and 3 Dirty Ozones," hollered the off-putting blonde Fangbanger known as Wendy the waitress, stomping over to the bar.
"You told me four Disco Lem's, two Spreaders, and five Dirty O-z's," I growled back. "And that order has been on the corner for four minutes now."
"Well, get me those other two Disco Lemonades - I'll drink the Legspreader and two Dirty Ozones, because I damn well deserve them about now!"
"You deserve them? You?! Do you not see that I'm serving so fast I can't even keep track of my measures? I could be serving lethal portions of alcohol and not even know. Not to mention I've used up every drop of Jack, my Absolut is d*mn near gone - for fuck's sake, half my stock of grain alcohol is drained! I don't have the Blue Curacao or the lemonade to make two more Disco Lem's!"
She got within 3 or so inches of my face. "Then squeeze some fucking lemons," she hissed through her teeth.
I clutched my head and, with a sharp, hissing intake of breath, dropped to my elbows on the bar, holding my throbbing head up, fingernails digging into my scalp.

Before I knew it Eric was by my side, stroking my hair. I knew it was him because I suddenly felt that soothing sensation which softened all the humming and the heat and the invasive projections to calmness. Even the humanly audible chaos in the bar faded into the background. Eric's voice was the only sound I focused on.
In a slightly subdued, but still 'all business' voice he asked, "What is happening here?"
I took a shaky breath, still supported by my shaky arms.
"The place has gone to H*ll on Speed, and your booze-slinger can't keep up," Wendy answered snippily.
I heard a sigh and low growl - he wanted to outright snarl at her, but held back. "Wendy," he snapped, but kept just quiet enough to not attract attention, "transport whichever drinks are ready to the appropriate patrons without so much as one more insulting or impatient comment, or you will leave immediately and never set foot in my bar as employee or patron for even a moment for the rest of your time walking this Earth." His fangs were angrily extended, so much so that I could hear the interference, and a vaguely familiar accent was creeping into his overly elaborate speech - oh he was P*ssed with a capital P.
I faintly heard her heels clicking as she walked away - the sound, along with the other bar sounds, were still unimportant background to me.
"What is the matter," he asked me, shifting to an even more soothing, subdued voice than before, still stroking my hair.
"Headache," I replied. "Really bad headache. Wendy was right - this place has gone to H*ll on Speed and the stock and I can't handle it. We're draining our supplies rapidly, everyone wants their drink five minutes ago, and by this point I'm absolutely astounded that I have the energy in me to remain standing."
He placed his palms tenderly but tightly over my ears.
"Stiffle!" To me his single word was a holler, but to the unprotected ear it was a roar which tore through all other sound in the building. "If you have not already made an order which Miss Lennox here recalls, you will not be receiving any more drinks tonight - no further orders will be taken. If Miss Lennox is not properly equipped to prepare the drink you've ordered, you may approach the bar and calmly request an alternate drink. If you do not show Miss Lennox adequate respect, she has my permission to serve you whatever the h*ll she wishes rather than your requested drink. Understood?"
I gently pushed his hands away and he removed them from my ears. The silence continued, aside from a few audible nervous gulps. There were a few scattered nods, though.
"If anyone antagonizes you, do not hesitate to tell me," he said to me quietly.
I gave a smile and nod, and mouthed 'thank you.' At that he returned to his office.

Within a few minutes most of the mob of people at the bar cleared out. The people who remained settled into a calm rhythm, chatting, drinking, or dancing. No one approached me other than the handful of people I had yet to serve, and they were all well-behaved.
The servers? Not as well-behaved.
"Of course I would get chewed out while she's soothed," Wendy grumbled to a few other waitresses as they emerged from the restroom together around closing time.
"Yeah. I mean, for God's sake, he brought the bar to a screeching halt for her," agreed a ginger girl - I think her name was Rayna.
"Well, duh," said the tiny brunette, Caroline. "Big, bad bloodsuckers always spoil their pets - she's just the new mutt."
"You mean she's the new bitch," corrected a server, Richie, as the girls passed. They giggled at his comment and continued out the door to get in their cars and go home. "Y'know," he explained to the other male server beside him, Jax, "bitch, like a chick dog? But, then like she's his new plaything, too."
Jax just rolled his eyes and walked away, shooting me an apologetic look.

"Dezzy, they're just being jackasses. Ignore them," advised my best friend on-staff, Fauna. She and Jax were the only humans in the building who cared for me at all - I dared not ask how Pam, Eric's second banana, viewed me, and I didn't really care about any of the other vampires.
"Yeah, but they've got a point," I admitted. "Eric treats me differently - very differently. I can't blame them at all for any of those assumptions."
"Still," she said, "it's just plain impolite to suggest someone is sleeping with his or her boss when there isn't any evidence for it."
"They're saying I'm -," I nearly screeched. I took a slow breath. "They're saying I'm sleeping with Eric?"
"What did you think the number one theory was?"
"Blood," I replied.
"Well they assume love-bites are exchanged," she replied in a 'duh' tone.

With a groan, I let my head fall to the bar with a quiet thump.
I heard Eric's voice and felt the calming presence. "Problem?"
I didn't even have to lift my head to know he was smirking - it was clear in his tone.
"You have superhuman hearing, jackass," I shot back. "You know my problem."
"No, I don't." Yes he did. He wanted to have me say it to his face.
I lifted my head just to glare at him. "Your exceedingly sweet and loving employees believe you're giving me special treatment because I'm fucking your brains out." Sometimes I wonder if Eric might just project his cockiness and confidence onto me.
"Are you? You'd think I'd remember that."
"Har-de-har," I replied dryly.
"You know why I treat you as I do, my Destiny," he said seriously. "Isn't that enough?"
"I don't like for people to think I get special treatment because I'm your woman or your plaything or your property. It makes me feel like a cheap whore!"
"How can it make you feel like a cheap whore if it's not true?"
"She feels like she must act pretty badly if people actually believe she would do that," Fauna summed up helpfully.
"Exactly. Thanks," I said.
"You don't act at all inappropriately," he assured in an annoyed, exhausted sort of tone. "Who's said otherwise? I will have them all replaced by dawn." His tone told me he wasn't thrilled to do it, but would be fully willing if it would satisfy me. I could sense a dash of actual offense, a miniscule anger with the rumor-spreaders.
"See? That's exactly what I mean," I exclaimed. "Fauna, how many times has this guy offered to fire all of the other servers just because they were unkind to you?"
"Not a single one," she replied, swiveling on her barstool.
"That's the kind of thing that pisses them all off. That is pretty much the epitome of special treatment," I said. He just sighed.
"What can I do that will not make this worse," he asked, exasperated. "What will make you happy?"
I almost gasped at the latter question. No one had ever asked me that with any intent of actually making me happy - not that they could if they wanted to. People had asked a million times 'Why can't you just be happy,' or 'Could you just shove it and be happy,' but all they wanted was for me to leave them alone, to take my broody self away. Even if he wanted it for the purpose of bringing himself relief, Eric actually wanted me to be happy.
"Just let it be, really, Eric. I appreciate the willingness to help, but I was just venting. I'll take care of it myself."
"Without giving me a reason to fire you, causing them to be even more bothered by the fact that I don't?"
I smirked. "Are you sure you wouldn't?"
"Absolutely."
"If I broke her nose?"
"She'd get time off, I might send you home without the night's pay, but you'd be back the next time you were scheduled."
"That would certainly p*ss off the rest of them," I agreed.
"I'd be pleased as punch," Fauna chimed in.
I chuckled and asked, "Don't you need to get home?"
"Don't you? You're the one with the day-job."
"Good point," I agreed. "By the way, Eric, are you going to send someone to restock tomorrow? We're gonna seriously need it after the night we've had."
"Oh," said Pam, emerging from a back room, having changed from a flowy black gown into her casual attire. "James and Sarah-Lee will be extremely busy tomorrow. Just take the night's earnings, get whatever is needed, and bring it by when you get off - the moment you can."
"Uh, okay, sure," I agreed. "Why will Jimbo and the Pixie be so busy?"
"Setting up, duh," Fauna replied. I just shot her a confused look, but Pam sent her a glare.
"Setting up?" At least Eric was as confused as me.
"It's nothing," Pam assured him.
Fauna mouthed to me 'call you later,' and split. "Um, I should be getting home, too," I said.
I gave Eric a big kiss on the cheek. "Thanks for the concern earlier - I mean both when I was having headaches and when the loud-mouth servers were upsetting me. Sorry for even bothering you with the latter. I'll work it out myself - non-violently, I swear." I chuckled and hopped over the bar, waving over my shoulder as I left. "Later Pam, Eric."

'Haha, he likes her,' I caught as the door closed behind me. I really don't like catching thoughts - especially since, more often than not, they're from Supes.