My Name Is Death

"Now," he said calmly, in contrast to the rage twisting on his face. He raised a hand and moved it swiftly across his mouth. "That wasn't very intelligent, was it?"His expression changed to one of cold indifference as he issued an order in another language to his two companions, who immediately nodded curtly and exited the room. His expression switched back to a cold amusement.

Fuck, you thought angrily, staring defiantly back into his icy, dead eyes. Why don't I ever know when to stop?

--------Eight hours earlier--------

"You're firing me, aren't you?" you asked flatly as your boss followed you into his office and closed the door behind him.

Sam Merlotte was clearly uncomfortable—the expression on his puppy-dog face gave that much away. And with your recent track record in jobs, it wasn't too hard to guess what this little "meeting" was about.

"Well, Leona," Sam started, running a hand back through his shaggy brown hair. "I don't know what to tell you. You just can't keep blowing up at the customers like this. It's bad for business."

You inhaled deeply as you bit back the furious tears that were threatening to come flooding down your face and tried to keep calm. It wouldn't do to start cursing at the person who held your financial situation in his hands. "I'm trying! But it's just so difficult—most of them are either unappreciative or just plain rude and I don't want to condone..." You sighed, realizing how stupid and unreasonable that sounded. "I just get so mad so easily."

Sam relaxed and went palms up in an understanding gesture, giving you what you supposed was a reassuring smile. It only made you wary for whatever reason for letting you go he was going to throw at you. "Look, I know you're new here, so I'll cut you another break. But this is the last time. Go home and calm down and when I see you back tomorrow, I want a complete change of attitude, okay?"

You nodded quickly, mumbling a thanks and then shoving past him. Sam was probably the nicest man you'd ever met in your life. He'd given you so many chances that you really didn't deserve already in the three days you'd been working for him. Three days, and you'd nearly struck out.

One of the cooks, a very flamboyant gay man named Lafayette, called out to you as made your way to leave through the back, so as not to offend the customers for a second time while Sam was back out there, offering them free food or drinks or however he was charming them into coming back to Merlotte's again. "You goin' about dis all wrong, Cherrybaby," he explained solemnly, pointing at you with his spatula. "What happened where?"

You smiled a little at the nickname he'd given you, more out of jest than anything. You had very orangey-brown hair—nothing close to cherry bright color of your fellow waitress, Arlene's. You were sure he meant something else by it too, but didn't care to acknowledge that. He adjusted his bandana and went back to flipping two large burgers as you leant up against the fridge. "There's some rowdy guys at table four and one of them grabbed Sookie's butt as she walked away. Of course I ended up being their server so I told them off and then they kept making me go back and get them more drinks, saying I was getting them wrong. Last time I was up at the bar, Sookie pulled me aside and told me she heard them say it was because they 'loved to watch me walk away' or something and then I kinda lost it and 'spilled' a mug full of ice on one of them." You sighed, not feeling like you were in the wrong at all—if Sookie, who had been very kind to you from the beginning and always seemed to know what was going though your head, wouldn't retaliate, who was going to?

Lafayette shook his head. "Sook can take care of herself... table foh, huh? Dis is how you take care uh assholes without losing yo job." He hacked up two large wads of spit onto each of the burgers before flipping them onto their buns and quickly dressing them. "Order up!" he announced, winking at you.

"Remind me never to piss you off," you joked and ducked out of the building. You hopped onto your bike and started pedaling back to your new home. It had only been your home for about a week. You'd moved to Bon Temps from Pensacola, Florida because you hated the beach and being so close to your parents and felt like getting away. Your mother had grown up near Shreveport, so she could give you insight on the surrounding area if you ever needed to call her.

You pumped your legs faster into the sunset as you fumed about the day. Four years of college and you still ended up with a shitty waitressing job. Four years to bring assholes their beer. And soon you wouldn't even have that job. You'd screwed up pretty badly each of the three days you'd been working at Merlotte's—it wasn't even that you were an intentionally mean person. You just had less discretion regarding what came out of your mouth than most people. And besides, if you were angry, it was hard not tear people who deserved it a new one.

"God, I need some people skills," you huffed to yourself as you found your way onto your street, hoping your younger brother had ordered a pizza or something.

Alan was eighteen and nearly as reckless and you were, so your parents weren't too keen on letting him drive you up to Louisiana. But since they both had work and needed someone to bring the car back, he was assigned the task of helping you move. He was due to leave for Florida the next day, which was fine with you. It wasn't that you didn't love your brother—you just got into enough trouble on your own without having to worry about his well-being as well.

It was five-thirty and your stomach was growling as you turned into your tiny excuse for a driveway. The car was there, you hopped off of your bike and dragged it on the porch to chain it to the railing, under the overhang, where it would be safe from rain. Alan would be very sorry to not have something ready to eat. You were starving and in a mood to start biting off heads.

In the house, it was silent. Alan should have been there—the car was in the driveway, wasn't it? He should have been there. For a moment, panic over took you. You flung open every door in the small house, but he was nowhere to be found. A week before you'd moved to Bon Temps, a serial killer who preyed on vampire-sympathizers has been caught... But has he got loose? you thought wildly in your frenzy. You and Alan didn't really take issue with vampires, as long as they didn't bother you... but you had gone ballistic on a customer on your first night at Merlotte's when she refused to be seated because a vampire was ordering a Tru:Blood, and then she had the nerve to refuse to leave.

You calmed down a little when you remembered that Sookie, who was currently dating the vampire in question, had been attacked by the accused and killed him in self-defense. Oh yes, your panic quickly dissolved into anger. Alan had better have left a note for his own sake.

As it turned out, he had left a note, but it only added fuel to your fire instead of remedying the situation. You took the paper off the refrigerator, your hands shaking, and decoded his scrawl with surprising ease.

Leona, it read. That neighbor girl, Emma, invited me out so we're headed to that vampire bar in Shreveport and and we're gonna try to get in right at sundown. She says Fangtasia is really cool. See you tomorrow. Alan.

Without thinking, or even locking the house, you slammed yourself into the car seat and sped down the street. How dare he go to a club like that without asking you first. If your parents found out—and Alan was definitely stupid enough to let something like that slip—it was your ass they'd go after, not his. You were so angry you were crying.

You arrived at Fangtasia about a half hour after the sun had set completely, and there was a small crowd being let in one by one. You scanned the line a few times, and when there was absolutely no sign of Alan or Emma, you figured they were already inside. Grumbling and scowling to yourself, you yanked his jacket from the backseat and pulled it on as you stepped out of the car. You slammed the door shut and wrapped your arms around yourself and finally made your way to the end of the ever-growing line.

There were several people in front of you, so you pulled out your cell phone and sent your brother a menacing text message detailing exactly what you were going to do to him when you found him and what you were going to add to that if your parents ever found out.

You were fuming silently and shuffling slowly forward with the crowd when a smooth voice purred, "Need an escort?" from behind you and breathed coolly down your neck. You stiffened as a finger twirled a lock of your short bob haircut.

Furious and disgusted, you pulled away and spun around to glare at the face of the pale, average looking man behind you. He stood a few inches shorter than yourself and was watching you expectantly. Hungrily.

"No thanks," you replied sourly and made to turn away when something behind him caught your eye. A young man was bouncing nervously from foot to foot several people behind you, his eyes wide. Huh, you thought, and allowed yourself a small twitch of a grin at his expense. Alan better be feeling like that right now. It'll teach him to sneak off like this.

The vampire behind you, however, mistook your pause and expression as a way of reconsidering, and eyed you excitedly.

You noticed. "Not on your life, buddy. I'm just here for my brother." You turned swiftly, and he made a disgruntled sound from behind you. Apparently, he didn't get turned down very often. But why shouldn't he? you thought. He's only average looking at best. And he's short. Just because he's a vampire doesn't mean women are going to flock to him and beg him for sex or to drink from them or even just date them or whatever. God, I hate arrogant people. You pulled out your phone again and sent Alan another angry text even though he hadn't replied to the first one yet, and by the time you had hit "send" and put your phone away, you'd reached the front of the line.

A pretty but severe-faced ash-blonde vampire was acting as the bouncer. Her face was pulled into a smirk at your obvious distaste and unwillingness to be even within a mile of the club. Well, at least it was amusing someone. "And what are you here for?" she asked, the smirk never leaving her face.

"My baby brother needs baby-sitting more than anyone his age ought to," you explained, grimacing.

She licked her lips and her fangs descended. "And you plan to save him from the big, scary vampire nest?"

"No," you said, unabashed. "I plan to save my ass from my parents when they find out what I 'let' him do."

The vampire bouncer gave you a smile that lasted a little too long to be a sincere one, and when you raised your eyebrow, her face fell slightly. A familiar ache at the back of your skull twinged for a few seconds as she lifted up the red velvet rope and let you past. "Have fun," she said smoothly and once again amused.

"Sure," you muttered, and passed her into the sharp red lighting of the club.