Blood Isn't Always Thicker Than Water

The next day I read magazines while I stood behind the counter, just like the day before. I worked at F.Y.E.—For Your Entertainment. I didn’t get loads of money but I didn’t get minimum wage, either. I didn’t know what I would do when the money from Logan’s manor ran out. Maybe Jeremy and I could scour the land for a female “vampire” who could go to college then get a well-paying job. She could live with us and we would get to stay in the house I had lived in for about two years.

“Excuse me, I would like to—”

As soon as I looked up from the magazine, something hit me on the face. Left cheek to be exact. I faked a human reaction and let my head roll with the blow. Then I put my hand to my cheek and rubbed it in fake pain.

This blonde girl was glaring at me, hand raised, ready to strike again.

What was her problem?

“What was that for?” I asked, adding in a bit of whine.

“You know full well—” She stopped mid-sentence. “Wait… You’re not Ryan…”

“No, I’m not,” I said, already exasperated. Did I look that much like him?

“Oh, sorry,” the girl said. “You look like my ex.”

“Geo—Ryan Ross?”

She nodded, then put some items on the counter. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I said back, ringing up her stuff then handing her the receipt.

She took her plastic bag, started to walk away, then turned back around.

I raised an eyebrow.

“Um…” she said. “I was just wondering… Are you related to Ryan? You look so much like him, but I’ve never seen you before.”

I nodded. “We’re related.” What was the use of lying?

She nodded too. “Bye.”

I didn’t reply, but looked down at my magazine.

So my brother had girl troubles…

The rest of that day was pretty boring. But I was used to being bored. You try growing up in a huge house, never allowed outside, and your company is obsessed with watching corny kids’ shows. You’d get used to doing nothing, too.

Jeremy kept on begging me to take him swimming. I didn’t want to go swimming. I had never gone swimming in my life, unless I counted being dropped into a river four days after I was born.

That DOESN'T count.

But I promised Jeremy I’d take him swimming one night so he could see in the moonlight.

He went ecstatic and started making plans to go to some beach in California on June tenth or something.

The dude’s crazy. That was in three days.

I had that day (June seventh) off from work for some reason. I wanted to get away from Jeremy and his relentless tidal waves of beach ideas, so I went for a nice long
walk. I went around for about an hour, just listening to music and trying to think of a plan to catch little Miss Samantha Royce.

I passed by her house (I looked it up on that godforsaken train, remember?) but there were no cars in the driveway or open garage.

She did have a pool…

I walked around for a bit longer, then stopped abruptly maybe ten minutes later.

There she was!

Samantha Royce was walking into a coffee shop with some good-looking dude.

Boyfriend?

Probably.

Then, to my amazement, Dude With Blue Highlights went to the bathroom.

Samantha was sitting alone!

I casually walked in the shop, then sat down in the seat Dude With Blue Highlights had left open.

“Hi,” I said.

Casually.

She blinked and a small frown appeared on her brow.

“Do I know you?” she asked, placing a manicured hand on the table.

She had a really nice voice…

“No,” I said. Again, what was the use of lying? “But I would like to know… Are you
Samantha Royce?”

She nodded carefully. Then, out of the blue, a look of sudden realization lit up her face. “Oh…” she breathed out. “Do you want me to do a shoot?”

I was completely disoriented for a moment, then realized that she had just presented me with the exact situation I needed.

I nodded, and straightened my back a little. “Yes, I do.”

“Cool,” she said, an easy smile gracing her features. “When?”

“When are you free?”

She contemplated for a second. “The ninth.”

I nodded. “The ninth it is.” I started rooting through my pockets for a piece of paper.

“Is this okay?”

She was holding out a notebook and pen, and her purse was unzipped.

“Uh, yeah. Thanks.”

“No problem.” She zipped her bag again, then looked at me with those amazing blue eyes. “I don’t do lingerie, but I’m open to just about anything else.”

“Great,” I said absentmindedly. I was scribbling down my address and phone number on a sheet of paper. I only had the privilege of being able to write down a number because Jeremy had complained that a home wasn’t a home until a telephone was installed. So I had bought a crappy secondhand one for almost nothing then got the cheapest plan out there. Thank God—or whoever was watching the progress of the world—for Jeremy, even though he doesn’t use the dang thing.

“There you go,” I said, sliding the notepad back to her.

She put a hand over it, then tilted her head to the side. “Are you related to… Oh, never mind.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “Ryan Ross?”

She nodded.

“I have no association with him.” Technically, I don’t know what the means, so it doesn’t count as lying. HA!

She glanced down at the notepad, and frowned.

Had I spelled the street name wrong? Had I messed up the phone number? Did I write the house number backwards? Oh my gosh, had I even written a house number? I bet that’s it. I forgot to write my house number, which was just about the most obvious thing to write down on Earth! I am such a—

“What’s the name of your studio?”

What?

Oh! I did write the house number (DUH!). I hadn’t written a company name or whatever. Phew!

I thought about it for a moment. “Jeremy’s.”

She lifted her dark eyebrows. “'Jeremy’s?' That’s it?”

I nodded, and she shrugged it off then wrote the “name” down. Again, I technically wasn’t lying.

The door to the men’s bathroom started to open, and I sensed that Dude With Blue Highlights was coming out to join the rest of the world again.

She noticed that I noticed something and turned around, her raven hair sending a drift of wonderful smells my way.

“Oh,” she said. “Let me introduce you to my cousin and coworker, Fallen Royce.”

He had almost reached us, so he waved.

I gave him a little two-finger salute back. “Well, I gotta go. Bye.”

“Bye,” Samantha said back. “See you on the ninth.”

I nodded and walked toward the door. When I was two paces out of the place, my least favorite feeling entered my system.

“Wentz,” I muttered, not even bothering to look back. I just speeded up a notch and moved swiftly down the street.