Page 18 of Dear Mr. Vampire

“Yes, I will be in costume.” Little did she know I was always in costume.

“What are you going to be?”

“My costume never changes. I will be a vampire.” Chanel laughed. “Is that funny?” I needed to hear her answer.

“No, no, it’s just vampires have been done so many times.”

“That is true. But it’s easy. I already wear black every day.”

“Yeah, you do.” She agreed.

“There’s literally no work on my part.”

“But change is good.”

“Okay, if not a vampire. What do you suggest?”

She shrugged her bare, delicate shoulders. “I don’t know, Iron Man, Captain America, something like that.”

“Superheros?”

“What’s wrong with superheros?”

“Kid’s costumes? You know, at twenty-eight, I am considered an adult male.”

“You would make a great Iron Man or Tony Stark.”

“I will consider it.” And I would, just for Chanel. “There’s more to see.”

I took her hand again, and I led Chanel down the blood red hall.

“How do you like the red walls?” I asked.

“Very colorful.”

“I helped paint them. I haven’t done that in years. The interior decorator and events coordinator wanted to add a splash of color. The walls used to be gray. There was bright red paint everywhere for a week until a real painter showed up and fixed the mess we’d made.”

“I like the red walls. It’s jazzy. The third floor is completely different from downstairs.”

“It’s modern décor here and the main floor is more, I don’t know.”

“Game of Thrones.”

“Yes, if Game of Thrones and Medieval Times had a baby.”

“Exactly.” She giggled.

Once down the hall, I led Chanel to the closest room with the steel door. The door was open, but it was the only door of its kind in the building. I stepped inside with Chanel, closing the door behind me. Natasha and Nick were sitting together and watching the CCTV monitors.

“This is the security room.” Our presence in the room alerted Natasha. Her shoulder length platinum blonde hair bounced as she turned her swivel chair to look at us. She stood and made her way across the room to engage us.

“Zand, you’ve bought a guest.” Natasha’s thick Russian accent bounced around the walls.

“Yes, this is Chanel. Chanel, this is Natasha. She’s head of security.”

“Nice to meet you.” Chanel gave Natasha a cautious wave.

“It’s nice to meet you as well. What are your pronouns?”

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