Part One
September, 2002
Now Hiring
One Person for a Seasonal Position
No experience is necessary
Don’t make me regret hiring you and this could be a regular thing.
For some reason, Eric felt like this was meant for him. He found the job advertisement in the most unlikely of places; on the bulletin board outside of the office in the main lobby of his school. It wasn’t unusual for a teacher to mention job openings during class, or for the principal to make an announcement to any of the students looking for work in the summer. But the bulletin board was usually reserved for school related announcements like bus schedules, tutoring classes and club meetings.
The paper was cheap and recently folded, so that it was hard to see writing if you didn’t flatten it out with your hand. At first Eric thought it was a joke from the crappy formatting.
Not that you had to be Stephen King to write a job ad, but usually ads were nicer than this one. And while the manager of the Price Chopper where Eric had his first job was kind of a douche, he didn’t know about it until after he had been there a couple months. If someone was hiring and they gave this kind of an attitude in the ad alone, how much better could they be when they actually hired you?
He was about to crumple it up and toss it in the bin on his way to the nurse’s office when he saw the logo at the top.
Vampire Bric-A-Brac
…Since 1920
Wow. Now that was interesting.
Vampire Bric-A-Brac was a shop in the plaza just down the road from Burr and Burton Academy. Eric had never been in there, but he saw small the glass and steel building every day on his way to and from school.
The shop itself had just opened up around the time he had finished his sentence in juvenile hall. The Goth freaks loved it because of the clothes, jewelry and make-up the guy sold. The gamers and the book and movie geeks went there because you could get fitted for a pair of fake fangs year round and the guy sold stuff for obscure role playing games and LARPs. But what caught Eric’s attention one afternoon was the number of teachers who seemed to like the shop, particularly Mr. Gagnon from Western Civilization, who was always going into the store and sharing all of the historical vampire stories with students towards the end of class.
With everyone practically drooling over the store, Eric was surprised someone hadn’t taken the job ad for themselves. For that matter, he was surprised when he passed the building later that day and found that there wasn’t a line of people trying to get in.
Eric stood at the corner, one hand in the pocket where he had unceremoniously crammed the notice and rubbing the back of his neck with the other as if he felt a bug chewing away at his neck and wanted to get rid of it before moving on.
The streetlight turned red about four times. Motorists glared at Eric like he was personally holding them up and not State traffic laws. He looked down the road. His house was half a mile away, pass the North Shire Bookstore and it would take about twenty minutes to get there. His mother was working tonight so she wouldn’t be home until about ten or so.
A job would probably get Mark off your back, an inner voice told him.
Mark Hannigan was Eric’s parole officer. After he got out of Juvie, Eric had to go to the Bennington every single day to assure Mark that he was keeping on the straight and narrow. And when it wasn’t mom driving him down it was his dad.
“You better dot every single I and cross all of the T’s this summer,” his mother had warned him. “I mean it Eric, this is it. The final straw was one year ago and there are no more straws.”
And she kept her word, every single day of the summer since Eric was released. And Mark was there to make sure Eric didn’t try skipping the lower case J’s, because damned if Dad was going to get off of his lazy ass and start doing his job. As is, the only reason dad drove him was because his job was in Bennington and he happened to be going the same way. Eric caught the bus back to Manchester and never saw his father till the ass crack of dawn on the following morning.
When school started Mark let up a bit. The visits became weekly and the drug tests were now random, so that Eric only needed to go to the nurse’s office. Not that it was exactly discreet, with a UniLabs employee in full uniform, carrying an equipment bag and carrying case that may as well have been made form clear plastic.
A job would be something constructive. He’d have a little cash of his own and as long as he put most of it in the bank Mom wouldn’t have a problem with it. She’d probably prefer he worked at the Chopper again, where she could keep an eye on him, but there wasn’t much of a chance they’d hire him again even if it wasn’t a major offense.
Best yet, he thought. Mark would have to arrange the visits around Eric’s work schedule. Getting a job was not a parole violation and it actually counted as trying to improve himself.
With a heavy sigh, Eric made up his mind and crossed the street. A driver screeched to a stop and honked the horn. Eric flipped him off, even though the light was green and the driver had the right of way.
The “plaza”, if you could call it that, was actually a two story building. There were two large shops on the bottom floor. One was a medieval boutique that specialized in handmade dresses and gifts; Things that would have been regular daywear in the fifteen-hundreds but were mostly for costume parties and disturbing sexual fantasies now. Eric wondered how long it had been there and how many people actually shopped there. The other shop was owned by some artist that made sculptures from all sorts of junk. A flower pot inserted into an old TV frame, for example, sat on a pedestal made from iron bars that may have come from an old fence, but had a uniform rust color. Eric caught sight of a Predator and Alien sculpture that stood side by side on a single stand, staring menacingly out at the customers who stood gawking at it.
Eric wanted to go in and take a closer look but he had to hurry up. Mark may have let up but his mother didn’t. It was five-o-seven according to his watch and Mom would call at six to be sure he was home.
Vampire Bric-a-Brac was at the top of the stairs, across from another shop with a For Lease sign taped to a locked gate. Vampire-spelled vampyr-was written on a large black sign in big white lettering, with the V and the R forming “fangs” that wrapped around the smaller red letters spelling “Bric-A-Brack”. The A formed a large wooden stake pointed at a heart image sandwiched between the words.
From the outside the shop seemed like a cheap Hot Topic knock-off or a Spencer’s Gifts. As Eric went in he saw boxes full of posters on either side of the entrance. The store was dimly lit, but the hardwood floors seemed to make it bright enough to be comfortable. Along the walls were books, CD’s, movies and toys, all with some kind of vampire theme. In the center of the shop were racks filled with robes, shirts and accessories. There was a door in the back with a mirror and a sign that said “Dressing Room”. To the side of the door there was another sign printed on computer paper and taped to the wall, with an arrow pointing upwards. It read:
If you’re Caught trying to Shoplift from This Store
Call the Police…They’re Your Only Hope
The arrow pointed to a skeleton that dangled by the wrists from a set of chains. It was obviously a plastic skeleton but the threat it implied almost made Eric laugh.
“Can I help you?”
Eric turned around and saw a guy sitting behind the counter. He was broad shouldered, like Eric, but his arms were better developed and it was clear he had muscle underneath the tight black t-shirt. His long brown hair was tied behind him in a ponytail. His face was soft and his expression non-threatening.
Just looking at him Eric would have pegged him as gay, but it didn’t matter. A strange feeling in his gut told him that if you messed with this guy, the fake skeleton would be in better condition afterwards.
Eric squared his shoulders and looked the guy straight in the eye, approaching him.
“You might be offering a job?” It wasn’t exactly a question, but Eric didn’t want to sound like an idiot by assuming the note was real. He pulled it out of his pocket and unfolded it, trying to smooth it out on the glass counter.
“I may.” The man stuck a mark in the catalogue he was reading and pushed it aside.
He stood up, towering over Eric by a foot and came around the counter. The move was so quick and sudden that Eric’s heart actually skipped a few beats, but he did his best not to show it.
He doesn’t rear back, Kenneth thought, listening to Eric’s heart as it raced.
Maybe jail did teach him a thing or two.Kenneth held his hand out and introduced himself.
“I’m Eric,” The boy said.
I know, Eric wanted to say. “Pleased to meet you, follow me.”
Eric didn’t budge. He clutched the strap of his backpack and gave Kenneth a hard stare. Kenneth resisted the urge to nod in approval, instead choosing to make his way for the backroom like nothing was different.
“What’s in there?” Eric asked, trying to keep the edge out of his voice.
“The dressing room,” Kenneth answered, opening the door. “It’s also the break room.”
Kenneth stepped inside and Eric cautiously followed, keeping the exit out of the corner of his eye. The break room was larger than it looked from the outside. There was a sofa, a coffee table and a refrigerator. The bathroom was off to one side with a men and women’s sign sporting a stick figure with drawn in fangs. A computer on a desk sat in a corner of the room with a file cabinet off to the side. Most of the furniture was second hand, or it appeared to be handmade by the artist that owned the scrap shop downstairs.
“This is your first interview question,” Kenneth said, in a one-wrong-answer-will-cost-you sort of tone. He sat at the computer desk and leaned back. “Go over to the fridge and look inside.”
With a raised eyebrow, Eric did as he was told. The top shelf was filled with Budweiser, Corona, Pete’s Wicked Ale and a half empty bottle of Mike’s Hard Lemonade. The bottom shelf had cans of Mountain Dew and Pepsi.
“Which are you allowed to drink?” Kenneth asked in the same tone.
What is this, Raiders of the Lost Ark? Eric shook his head in disbelief before closing the refrigerator door. “The soda?”
“Perfect,” Kenneth gestured to the sofa. “Grab yourself a drink and cop a squat.”
Eric looked at his watch as he placed his backpack on the floor and sat down.
“No thanks,” He said. “I have to be home by six.”
Kenneth nodded.
“Understood.” he said. “Do your parents know you’re applying here?”
“Not yet. I just saw the ad today in school.”
“Then have your mom call me tonight when she gets home.” Kenneth paused to gage Eric’s reaction. If Eric found it odd that Kenneth knew his mother wasn’t at home he didn’t show it. Oh well, two out of three wasn’t bad. “She is your boss first and your teachers and principal are second. If your mom calls and tells me you can work for me, I will be your third.”
Eric’s jaw dropped. That was it?
“That’s the interview?” He asked, incredulously.
“You’ve proven you’re not a complete idiot,” Kenneth said, simply. “If you get hired you’ll have three weeks to prove to me you can run the store on your own. Then when October comes around I’ll be going to Salem, Massachusetts to work at the Psychic Fair while you hold the fort down here.”
Eric thought about this. Something wasn’t right and he couldn’t put his finger on it. But what other choice did he have? This guy was offering him the job. And it was either this or kissing Scott Howland’s ass to get his job at Price Chopper back. Kenneth didn’t even ask about his criminal record. Should he say something? What if his Mom said something?
“It’s five-thirty,” Kenneth reminded him. “Don’t you need to get home?”
“Oh,” Eric got up. He picked up his backpack so fast it bumped into the coffee table. “Sorry-I, mean…”
“Chill out,” Kenneth said. He pulled a business card from the holder and held it out to Eric. “I’ll be waiting till Midnight for your mom to call.”
Eric took the card and muttered barely audible thanks as he left the room.
He listened to the echo of Eric’s heavy footsteps as he bounded down the stairs to the Main Street exit. At first he was surprised Eric found the notice so quickly. Kenneth was expecting wave after wave of Goth wannabes and Anne Rice lovers to beat a path to his door before Eric even glanced in this direction-and then only to sneer at the line of said wannabes. It was why he decided not to put an ad in the paper and just go for as direct an approach as possible.
Possible turned out to be tacking the note to a bulletin board that Eric was likely to take sight of. The extracurricular activities board and the actual places where job notices were posted were apparently not those places. And the kid wasn’t winning friends among the teachers who were likely to try to apply for the position if they thought it was open.
Kenneth went to the fridge and grabbed the Mike’s Hard Lemonade, chugging the rest of it down. Contrary to popular myth, vampires could and often did drink and eat. But they had to maintain their bodies constantly; otherwise their digestive organs and urinary tracts would become indolent.
He rinsed the bottle in the bathroom sink and placed it in the recycling bin beside the refrigerator. Then he went into the bottom drawer of his filing cabinet, keeping an ear open for customers and keeping his nostrils open to the smells of the landlady and the other shop owner in the building. As part of the agreement for their shared lease of the building, Kenneth kept an eye out for Angela and Reese’s shop and they did the same for him.
The only other bodies in the entire building was Angela’s employee and distant relation and the human artist who was watching things in the Metal Shop while Reese was out teaching a class. Although Pepper was a full blown matriarch, she was still only fifteen and like most female vampires, she was a rarity and therefore a target.
As a rule, there was only supposed to be one vampire in the building during regular business hours and until his great-great nephew, Eric took the job, Kenneth wasn’t going to have a day off.
Post Merged: February 02, 2011, 12:14:49 PM
Chapter Two
Eric threw the door open as the phone rang and ran for the cradle, only to find that the headset was missing. Son of a…he turned up the couch and recliner cushions, checked in the kitchen and all over the living room table.
The cradle still rung but he couldn’t hear the handset anywhere. ****ing wonderful. Whoever designed a phone like that should be shot.
It stopped ringing and a loud beep signaled the answering machine message, which would inform the caller that no one was available to answer and that he or she should leave a message. What would no doubt ensue would be further instructions from Mom on where Eric would find his ass if he didn’t pick up the phone. And then the job would pretty much be out of the question.
He ran up the stairs to check in his bedroom, the bathroom and then…mom’s bedroom. Dad was asleep in there, which explained why the handset was off…or it would explain it if it was actually in there. Maybe going back to jail wouldn’t be such a bad thing?
Eric hesitated. He slowly approached the door, hoping the floor board wouldn’t creek. Dad hadn’t hit him once since he was six, but that didn’t stop him from being loud and surly when he was pissed. If Eric woke him up now he’d never hear the end of it. On the other hand if he didn’t call Mom back in the next five minutes he wouldn’t hear the end of it. And to think he had been nervous about going into a strange room with some guy he didn’t know half an hour ago.
The faint ring of the downstairs phone returned and Eric decided to risk grabbing the handset. It wasn’t closed all the way, so he didn’t have to make extra noise by turning the handle. He pushed the door gently, sticking his head in to take a quick glance. Dad was passed out, shirtless and spread eagled on the bed like he had been knocked unconscious instead of just sleeping.
If I could just be that lucky, Eric thought.
He looked around the room from where he stood. If the handset wasn’t in plain sight then he wasn’t bothering. A shaft of light from the streetlamp outside hit the egg white casing of the phone as it sat on the edge of the bed.
Eric debated just leaving it and going downstairs. Would Mom really make him go back to jail if he didn’t answer the phone this once? Would Kenneth vouch that he was applying for a job?
You don’t know Kenneth that well and you know Mom, logic reminded him.
She doesn’t believe anything she can’t see in front of her face.No one would stick up for him, either. Eric thought back to that night when he got caught, beer bottle in hand and the video playing on the TV in his girlfriend’s living room. The camera belonged to Terry and it was her idea to begin with, but it didn’t matter. She testified against Eric to cover her own ass and along with a bag of weed they found in his possession, he was shipped off to juvenile hall without a second thought. Mike and the guys took Terry’s cue and threw Eric under the bus in exchange for community service.
Mom didn’t say a word the whole time. She just glared at him from where she sat in the courtroom during his hearing and the sentencing. On the handful of times she visited him (once on his birthday the rest at random and unannounced) she always seemed to want to criticize him. Either he was too mouthy to the guards, or he didn’t pay enough attention in class and would be held back a year if he ever got out, or his appearance was never good enough. He needed to exercise more or he’d just get fat and flabby. Never once did she ask how he was doing. Actually, that wasn’t true. She asked once, but when he was stupid enough to answer she just loaded him with an even bigger laundry list of reasons why things were his fault. So he just smartened up and answered with the usual, “Fine.”
Now she was just looking for reasons. Eric realized her threat might not be so idle if he didn’t get in touch with her. As quietly and as quickly as possible, he snuck into the bedroom and grabbed the phone. Dad only stirred but he didn’t wake up. Eric went back downstairs, hitting the speed dial for the Manchester Price Chopper where his mom was now front end supervisor.
“Thank you for calling Price Chopper, how may I help you?” Eric recognized the tired voice of Janet, a senior at Burr and Burton. In school she was always running her mouth about someone and every time he saw her she had a new version of the story about him. This night just kept getting better and better.
“Hi, it’s Eric,” he said, not caring that she knew him. She was on the clock and he could get her in trouble with the store manager if she started in with him. “Is my mom there?”
“Yup, hold on.” He was put on hold. While he waited he brought has back pack into the kitchen and set it down on the table, then he went to work straightening the mess he made searching for the phone. When his mother answered he said, “Mom, I’m sorry I didn’t answer sooner. The phone was in the bedroom.”
“It’s okay,” Mom said, flatly. He didn’t know if she believed him or not, or if it would even matter at this point. “How was school?”
“Fine,” he said. She knew about the drug tests but he figured the last thing she needed to know about was when and where he peed, so long as the results were clean. He decided to tell her right then and there about the job interview. At least that way she couldn’t say he wasn’t trying. “I stopped at that vampire store today. They’re looking for help for the season.”
“Really?” Mom asked.
She seemed interested, but there was a tone of condescension in her voice that said she didn’t think much of Eric’s exploits, no matter what his intentions were. Still he brought it up and he was determined to at least get an answer from her.
“Yeah,” He went on. “This guy Kenneth owns it and he says he wants to get your permission.”
“Okay.” Was she saying she would? Did she approve? Dammit, she was hard to read when she wasn’t yelling at him.
“He gave me his business card and said you could call him any time before midnight.”
There was a pause. Eric heard her hurriedly answering someone’s question.
“I’ll be home at nine,” she said when she came back. “We can talk about it more then. In the meantime I want you to do any homework you have and if you use any dishes, make sure you wash them and put them away.”
“All right,” Eric said, holding back an annoyed sigh. If he gave her a hard time she might out right refuse to call Kenneth. “I’ll see you when you get home.”
No “I love you”. Just a “see you too” and she hung up. Eric hit the end button and put the phone back in the cradle. He heard dad moving around upstairs and thought about ducking into his room.
He had given up the idea of impressing his Dad and jail killed any chances he had of getting his mother to acknowledge any of the good stuff he did. One way or another, he had to get out of this place. That was the bottom line.
* * *
Kenneth got off the phone with one of his distributers when Angela walked in to the store. He heard her Escalade pulling into the parking space and her smell filled the air before she was physically in the room. From the noise downstairs Kenneth could tell Pepper smelled her too. Fortunately Pepper was experienced enough not to come bounding up the stairs, thus leaving the store unattended and vulnerable.
“Did Eric find the job ad?” At a full five-foot-seven, Angela stood in the doorway like an angel laminated by heavenly light. Her long golden-brown hair fell to her shoulders and she had the appearance of a woman in her mid thirties, though she was closer to eight hundred years old. She wore a hand-stitched purple blouse and a red pleated skirt came to her knees. Her boots were elegant and lady-like, made from Irish leather.
“He did.” Kenneth said.
With a warm smile he didn’t return she entered the shop and began casually glancing at the selection of manga on one shelf. They knew each other well enough that Kenneth didn’t bother with the usual social pleasantries. And Angela had no real interest in what he was selling. She just felt it would be better if she appeared to be another customer if anyone came in. And while he pretended to look through one of his catalogues and she perused a copy of
Blood: The Last Vampire 2002 they continued to speak in a tone too low for humans to hear with the naked ear
“Do you still believe he’s a larva?” She asked.
Larva was the technical term for a vampire in the adolescent stage. In larval form they were indistinguishable from a human. They aged at the same rate, were nourished by the same foods and were vulnerable to the same diseases, injuries and rates of healing. In some cases a larva was sensitive to sunlight and might grow their fangs a little sooner, but for the most part they were for all intents and purposes a dormant vampire.
“I’m certain of it,” Kenneth said, knowing where this was heading.
“Hmm. You were certain with Vicki as well. And Terrance and Sarah and Mitchell, and-“
“I got a sample of his blood.” Kenneth reminded her. “During his hospital visit when he was six, they took blood and I fired a sample down to Los Eros for testing.”
Angela stopped and looked at him. Not that she was particularly surprised, but that was a rather bold move.
“So they know he exists now.” She said, shaking her head in disbelief. “You know I don’t need that kind of scrutiny. Not with another matriarch living so close to me.” Angela ****ed her head to one side, suddenly aware that her descendant could most likely hear what they were saying. She shrugged. Oh well, Pepper was going to learn soon enough. “I’ll have my hands full as it is teaching her to protect herself and to control her hunger without the Council of Grand Matriarchs breathing down my neck.”
Kenneth sighed. “Eric hasn’t been triggered yet. I know. He’s respectful enough on the surface but the kid has a mouth and it’s gotten him into enough trouble without the fangs.”
With a light chuckle, Angela shrugged and pushed her concerns about the Matriarchs to the side.
“It only works if he drinks someone else’s blood.” She pointed out. “He can get all of the nose bleeds in the world and not have his metamorphosis triggered…if he really is a larva.”
“So you see it’s a good plan to have him where I can watch him at all times,” Kenneth said. “If he has a late metamorphosis I can keep him hidden until it’s complete. The King and the Council won’t ever need to know of it because the humans will never catch sight of it.”
Angela wasn’t so sure about his logic. Kenneth may have had his fingers on the pulse of the fictional vampire market but it was quite a different thing when dealing with the real world. She had a good eight hundred years on him and with the events she witnessed in both the human and vampire worlds, she knew and understood her people’s paranoia.
“Let’s hope you’re right.” She said, simply. “I’ll help you anyway I can. But I will not place myself or Pepper in danger.”
A familiar jangle of his cell phone ended the conversation. The store had its own line and there were only a handful of people who had the number to his cell and he had the others knew full well not to call him unless it was prearranged. He pulled the phone from his pocket and unfolded the clamshell.
With a discreet wiggle of her fingers, Angela left to tend to her own store and to take Pepper home for the evening.
“Vampire Bric-a-Brac,” Kenneth answered with his standard greeting, as if he were expecting a customer.
“Hello, is Kenneth in?” A familiar voice asked.
“This is he.”
Vicki stood in the kitchen, watching a piece of leftover lasagna warm up in the microwave while Eric sat in the living room, pretending to watch TV. She knew he was listening in and had a mind to tell him to go upstairs and get ready for bed, if only that would work.
“I’m Eric’s mom. I understand you spoke to him today.”
The way she said it made it sound like Kenneth had a habit of approaching school aged boys on a regular basis. On the one hand he didn’t like the implication and on the other he respected her protectiveness.
“He responded to the job ad, yes,” Kenneth answered as politely as possible. “And with your permission Ms. Johnson, I’d like to offer him a job.”
There was a pause as a Vicki tried to place that voice. Kenneth had a deep baritone that sounded familiar.
“You’ve been open for a year,” she said, watching Eric through the kitchen door. “How come I didn’t see your job ad in the paper?”
“I never use newspapers for business, ma’am,” Kenneth said, truthfully. “You never know what kind of response you’re going to get. I’ve grown quite a reputation in so short a time and I could very much use the help, so I put the ad in places where people I knew would see it. Eric has the right kind of head on his shoulders.”
Vicki snorted.
“Well, it gets him into trouble sometimes. Do you know about his time in jail?” Eric twitched, confirming Vicki’s suspicion that he didn’t tell him.
“We all make mistakes.” That he considered Vicki’s biggest mistake to be renting out her womb to Eric’s father was something he kept to himself. The years of pretending to “meet” his relatives for the first time gave him plenty of practice for conversations like this. “God knows, I’ve made mine and I didn’t let them stop me. It’s why I own a successful business and why I don’t spend my days in a dead end job telling people all of the things I wish I had done.”
Vicki was impressed by Kenneth’s frankness. He was polite but firm, something Eric could definitely benefit from. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Don coming down the stairs and collapsing on the couch next to Eric. He grabbed the remote from Eric’s hand and switched the channel before he could say anything.
“What kind of movies and books do you sell?” She asked.
The theme of his store was as subtle as a flying brick but Kenneth refrained from saying so. Vicki’s tough resolve was weakening and he could sense it. No point in destroying what he’d worked to build.
“All of the films are rated R or lower. No pornography. And I’m very selective about selling movies to certain age groups,” he explained. “The books range from classical literature to Japanese comic books, to role playing instruction books. Those I’m less restrictive of.”
Eric and Don were arguing over what show to watch. Vicki would have to step in there before it escalated. But not before taking another pill to keep her heart rate from going up.
“Okay.” She said, making up her mind. “When would you like Eric to start?”
Kenneth pumped the air with his fist. He loved small wins.
“Tomorrow’s a school day, so how about Saturday at ten in the morning?”
“Done,” Vicki said, trying to keep the gratefulness out of her voice. “And thank you.”
Vicki didn’t give Kenneth a chance to change his mind. She hit the cancel button and went into the living room before Eric raised his voice.
“All right, I agreed with Kenneth,” she said. “Eric you’re starting on Saturday at ten.”
“What’s this?” Don asked.
Vicki turned to Don. His beard was still growing against all of her protests. He looked like a rail thin Grizzly Adams, without the charm or survival skills and his voice was raspy from a childhood injury that damaged his voice box.
“Eric got a job,” Vicki said, trying to sound more upbeat than she felt. “He’s starting at that Vampire store on Main Street.”
Don snorted and gave Eric a doubtful look.
“Can you hold down a job?” He asked with a snide grin.
“I worked at Price Chopper for a year,” Eric reminded him, trying to control his temper.
Before Don could say anything else Vicki turned to Eric and grabbed him firmly by the shoulders, so she knew she had his attention.
“Eric, tomorrow after school I want you to call Mark and let him know you have the job,” she said. She had to stop and take a deep breath. Her stress levels from the tension were beginning to rise. “Show Mark that you can be responsible about this, that way he can.”
With a last glare at Dad, Eric turned around and went upstairs.
Vicki shot a second glare at Don, who just shrugged and sat back down on the couch. Not a “how was your day” or “I love you”, just a shrug and the pitch of a newscaster’s voice going up to spite Eric. Eric was the target but Vicki paid the price for being there.
“So how was your day?” She asked.
“Just peachy,” Don said, returning the sarcasm.
Vicki ran her hand through her hair and returned to the kitchen. She dug out a bottle of pills from a box above the refrigerator and popped one before taking her now cold lasagna from the microwave.
She considered reheating it, or just tossing it and going to bed. But she had a long day and she was hungry. And between her son upstairs and the immature brat she was married to on the couch, she needed to get something into her system before she passed out.
