Celerity ( in progress)
The rain trickled down the diner window while the thunder gently hummed overhead. Cars raced by on the nearby freeway. Blurs of color and flashes of light came through the aging glass. It had been a typical day. Although most adventures don’t start with a typical day, this one does. It was peaceful indoors, which was a large improvement from the outdoors. The rain made me sad. The birds, washed away by the storm, had no songs to sing for me. I had no melodies to listen to as I worked… just the constant and sporadic beating of the water against the glass. I had been on my feet for hours, but then again, it was something that I had been long accustomed to. The sun was setting… not that you could know it from the damned rain. I always loved the sunshine, and I would still, if I could remember it. But that, of course, comes later.
The routine cycling of customers was about to begin. I always found it entertaining to see the shift in people’s faces as my night time customers began to appear, especially if they were new guests. My regulars didn’t mind so much, but they still carried a sense of fear and confusion around these hours. Could I really blame them? When I was asked about them, I would shrug as if It say “well, it happens”. Some of my night time customers had eccentric styles of dress, which didn’t help. Some kept up with the times and trends. Then there were ones which refused to leave their favorite fashion decade or era. It wouldn’t be uncommon for me to find a vampire or two in tights, or a corset. Others could be considered trend setters. They were the vampires whom stood out from everyone and everything else. These were the ones with their own personal tailors and very vast imaginations. Combined with a large ego, these people were a force of nature in the fashion world, blending colors so horrific you wondered if they owned a mirror.
I began to put most of the food away and brought out the large containers with deep red liquid inside. The smell of the blood filled my nostrils as it warmed up, making some of the other customers nauseous. It was the norm. I just hoped the smell of their food would be stronger. I looked up at the facing wall and saw the very soft shade of purple which hung over the sky. Silently, I began counting. 1 Mississippi , 2 Mississippi … 59 Mississippi
“Evening Jo”
“Hey Jack”
“Looking as lovely as ever” He said as I rolled my eyes and ignored him.
“You know I got my B.A in BS, right?”
Jack made that terrible joke almost every night. He took his normal seat, the second one from the door, effortlessly sliding onto the clay red leather. He was waiting for Erika, his sister. She was beautiful, just like him. Her black hair was consistently up in a silky braided pony-tail. It was a rare treat to see her wear it up in a bun, and even rarer to see it down. Her eyes were a blazing green and every time our eyes met, I wondered what she saw. Could she see within me? Read my soul? That was the power in her eyes. Jack was different. He was also tall with onyx hair and gorgeous green eyes. But his eyes were much more aggressive and demanding. Jack could convince anyone to do anything simply by staring down at them long enough. The two of them used to hypnotize me, but then again, they all did at one point.
More people were coming in and more drinks were being poured. I moved around to the tables as quickly as my feet would allow. My place was small, but sufficient. It had a small bar, with 6 red barstools. I had roughly 20 tables along the walls. Everything was pretty plain, I must admit. The walls were white. I can’t remember the official paint color. I am sure it was something ridiculous like eggshell, or dove’s feather, or piano keys. Basically, it was some version of white. Of course it was perfectly painted. Each inch of the each wall had exactly the same amount of paint as the others. Vampire work. Machines couldn’t match the precision.
The tables were made of wood and the floor was a checkered tile, much like a 60’s diner. It had large windows that brought in a wonderful and breathtaking view of the… freeway. The diner was just off the freeway, all by itself. The freeway exit was probably one of the least used pieces of asphalt on the stretch. People only stopped here if they knew where they were going, or if they had no idea where they were. It was one of the places that you never noticed unless you ended up there.
I had my regular morning commuters. There were several groups of people, all different types. There was the group of older men. The ones that were raised in the era of pinching women’s asses as they passed. They would sit around at 5 am, talking about the glory days, sharing stories, and complaining about how bad everything is, and great everything was. They were always trying to coax me into a debate or into a relationship with one of their charming, handsome redneck sons. I had to decline, for many reasons. One of which is that I am so turned on by a full set of teeth and an IQ higher than negative five.
There were other groups too. There were the men and women that came in at 6 am. The ones with a briefcase attached to their hips. Their eyes glued to a document of some sort. It could be a legal memorandum or a business letter. My personal favorite was the individual reading a newspaper diligently, appearing to be studying the business section, when really, it’s the gossip pages. The women were less embarrassed about it than the men were. They would be so wrapped up in the latest gossip about some nasty divorce that they don’t see me coming to refill their coffee. Then, when it’s too late, they quickly turn back the page and frantically look for a place to start reading. You can almost see the hair on their neck stand up on end from the embarrassment. I must admit that I would sometimes plan my rounds to achieve ultimate embarrassment. I would wait patiently and watch them for a sign of complete disconnection to the outside world. I could narrow it down to a few simple tells. Wide eyes were always a dead give away. Then there were the lip pressers, and of course, the lip bitters. If I spotted any one of those signs, I grabbed my coffee pot. Once, I had a customer who was so startled by my presence that he spilt his French toast into his lap.
These people were the ones that could hardly manage a conversation unless the room was filled with leather seats made of cherry wood oak. They would come in, motion a one, sit down by themselves, mumble something about coffee and eggs, or coffee and toast, then mutter a thanks somewhere between the table and the door. Not my favorite people. Very social beings, of course. But they seemed to like the quiet of this place. I guess it was better than some drive-thru with an overly cheerful ‘barista’. There were others too. For example the bikers that came in ever second Saturday morning on the way to their little conventions. Then they always came back in on Sunday night for dinner. Whether it was due to their actually toughness, or their need to maintain the image, these men never blinked when the vampires came around for their breakfasts.
The only two people that worked in my little diner were I and another girl named Rashelle. She was a gem. She was once a favored pet of a vampire that used to live here. Jack’s maker considered it horrendous and had the vampire banished for his abusive nature. Shortly after her master was exiled, I gave her the job. It helped her take her mind off of all the commotion. It was difficult for me to find good help, especially someone who could deal with feeding the very creatures which fed on us. Rashelle knew all too well about the kind that we lived amongst. But it worked out, in the end. It was my little corner of the world. Rather isolated, I must say. The only thing nearby was a motel, and a large mountain surrounded by trees. Lots and lots of trees. Well, that is what people could see on the surface. Within the façade of all things natural was a plethora of the most unnatural fallacy. We were our own little connector; a blend between the two worlds of life and semi-life. A small colony on the edge of a civilization too busy living and not enjoying life, and bordering the most uninhabited piece of forest in the state. How I came to be there is a long story in and of it’s self. It’s a story I don’t want to recount just now. But that place…that little colony was home.
I would like to say that it was on that stormy night that I met the man of my dreams, or that I found destiny, or that my ‘story’ begins. It just wouldn’t be true. A life is filled with stories, each overlapping into the other, and my life here at this little colony was just another chapter. Even though this night wasn’t biggest night of my life, it was a night which will say in my memory forever.
I was serving a table with a tourist couple when I noticed a man in a dark leather jacket, standing against the telephone post. He was so deep in thought that he didn’t seem to mind the rain as it darkened his blonde hair. He was surprisingly still, as if he was listening for something. Then I realized that I was in the same frozen state, watching him. He rolled off the wet wooden post and slowly made his way to the doors. Was he man, or vampire? I wasn’t sure. I had plenty of blood ready, so I decided to make a pot of coffee. I could hear some of the non-coffee drinkers groan. You can’t please everyone, and I give up on trying years ago. We, the vampires that live here and I, didn’t see too many wandering vampires around. They generally had a purpose. It just wasn’t common to find one that looked so lost or out of place. Soon the small silver bell over the door announced company with its common tune. I turned around and put on a smile to greet the stranger at the counter, but he had already moved to a booth, to sit by himself. He hadn’t said a word or looked at anyone. Jack looked at me, slightly upset by this man. He understands my low tolerance for rudeness. A reassuring glance calmed him down. I knew how to handle people like this. Kill’em with kindness. I almost hopped to the gentleman’s table, trying to appear happy. I kept imagining a little bunny, or a butterfly, or anything pink, and I don’t even like pink for that matter. Perhaps I could infect him with some joy. As I approached, I imagined him covered with rabbits and butterflies, squirming in pain. The image itself caused my smile to be even wider to the point that I held back a laugh. I stood at the edge of the booth and looked at his dark wet face.
“Welcome to Jo’s diner. Can I get you anything? Pie? Soup? Coffee?” A smile?
He was dead silent for a few moments, though it felt like longer. I parted my lips, about to repeat myself, when he muttered.
“Coffee”
I nodded and left, rolling my eyes. I hated smug customers. Those that think they are so much better than you, just because you’re the one wearing an apron. I thought about spitting in his coffee. I took my time not serving him, getting around to the other tables before bringing him his beverage of choice. Although I normally served my coffee hot, his was especially cooler than most. As I set down his drink, I looked at his face. Maybe there would be a sign of life. His brown eyes were wild though, unlike his face. From his expression, you would think he was deaf and dumb. Those hazelnut eyes, however, were looking at all the tables, analyzing each of them, focusing on certain ones, marking them with his memory. He finally looked up at me and grumbled a thank you. I noticed the tables that he was analyzing, noticed a pattern in them. Each one had at least one vampire occupying them. It concerned me, but I decided not to make a huge fuss about it. It was very possible that he was curious, but it was also possible that he had other things in mind. Regardless, I continued my work. I preferred peace at my establishment, as well as in my life, and I was trying to maintain it as best as I could. Not exactly an easy task when half your customers can eat the other half. But I had been doing it for years and wasn’t about to let a nervous little twit change that. I went back to my counter, ringing up the customers that had finished eating. It was almost to the point that I knew the regulars by name, and some of their kids. It was all stored in the limited rolodex within my mind. Even if I didn’t care, I still made an effort to remember… bigger tips.
The strange man never moved. Not once. He just stared at all the vampires, warming his hands with the cup of coffee. I said goodnight to my last daytime customers, the tourist couple. I gave them directions to their destination. Wine tasting in California
“It’s on me if I can bum a smoke” I said quickly.
He looked up at me and thought for a moment before agreeing. I walked with him out the back door, moving past the boxes of preserved food, a pile of dishes and out into the cool night air. The rain was coming down harder, forming a small waterfall at the end of the gutter on the roof. I watched him fumble for his pack of cigarettes, eventually coaxing them out of the inside pocket of his jacket. He handed one to me and ignited the tip before doing the same for himself. I leaned against the door, looking around for a moment as I pulled the smoke into me. I looked up at his drying hair, seeing the natural wave to it. It was actually very attractive.
“Are you passing through or are you looking for a place to stay?” I asked. Part of me really wanted him to go. He had trouble written all over his face, his body language and his demeanor. But then there was a part of me that knew he wasn’t supposed to leave just yet.
“I’m planning on looking for a local hotel.” His voice had changed now that we were outside. It had a sweet element to it.
I took out a small bronze key from my pocket and looked at it for a moment. “Here… there is a hotel down the block… room 114 is vacant.”
He looked at me like I was crazy, after all, who carries keys to hotel rooms in their pocket. He gave me a quick nod of thanks and walked back into the rain, flicking the half burnt cigarette into a puddle. As he walked to the parking lot, he looked over the key. It was probably the only hotel in the state which didn’t have those plastic card keys for the rooms. At this hotel each room had its own unique key with its own design. The keys were made of some type of metal. I had nothing against those little credit card keys, but my establishment was small and frankly, I always had a weird thing for old keys. I watched the nameless man get onto his motorcycle and start it. It was a beautiful 1947 Indian Chief. From what I could tell, it was in mint condition. The roar of the engine made me smile. Wild pasts… My smile faded as he looked back at the vampires in the diner, then at me and sped off to the hotel. Why was he speeding away? I don’t know. Maybe he was afraid of my customers, or of this place. Maybe he was afraid of me.
I topped off the last of my customer’s drinks before kicking them out at the end of the night. It was good to have everyone well fed. It kept the homicide rate down. Jack seemed partly worried and partly upset by my short meeting with the strange man; so I smiled at him, hoping to keep his temper at a tolerable level. He was always so overprotective. So eager to rescue me, even when I didn’t need or want to be rescued. Jack offered to close up for me. There was an offer I couldn’t wait to accept. I thanked him, taking hold of my dark blue coat and a large stack of papers. He eyed them as I made my way to the door. I stepped out in the raging storm, and pulled my coat collar up. I carefully placed my papers inside my coat, pressing them tight against my chest. I walked through the ever deepening puddles towards the hotel. There was a man with a long coat and a black umbrella walking down the road in the other direction. Although I couldn’t see his face, I knew he was looking at me. I looked at him for a few moments, studied him. He was too tall to be the man I feared. In fact, he reminded me of Gene Kelly. And I began to whistle one of my favorite tunes.
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