Bloodlust

2 | Transaction

I wouldn't say that I'm a particularly angry person. Sure, there are many things that piss me off. Poor internet connection. People who chew with their mouths open. Mansplaining. Traffic. People who don't clean up after their dogs.

And waiting.

That's the worst. Whether it's to cross the damn street or stand in a fucking line, I thoroughly despise waiting.

It's a waste of time.

And time is a precious commodity. It's fleeting. Every second that passes is a second that's lost forever. Time is the one thing money can't buy. I've tried. I wasted thousands trying to buy time. It can't be done.

Time is something to cherish, to hold sacred. And the longer I stand here, waiting for— I narrow my eyes at the name tag pinned into the peppy receptionist's blouse— Heather to get off the damn phone, the more time I lose.

I'm tempted to remove the switchblade from my purse and slice through the telephone cord - also perhaps her throat - but my father's repetitive warnings float through my mind.

Do not ever make a scene. Do not cause unnecessary trouble. Hold your head up high. You represent a century of influence. We have standards, Camilla.

Meet them

... or else.

I dig my nails into my upper thigh, the acrylics pushing through the faux leather fabric of my skirt, the pain soothing my spurting frustration. I dig in harder as the seconds pass and the receptionist continues to hold up a finger indicating she needs more time. Don't we all. I push harder and harder and harder until—

"Sorry about that! Busy morning!" Heather exclaims, peering up at me as she lowers the receiver. "How can I help you?"

"Hi," I say, gradually pulling my nails away from my thigh, the indents in the fabric evident by touch. Control. I place my clutch on the counter, removing my sunglasses. "My assistant Zoey called earlier about an appointment. Name's Camilla Bianco."

"Ah, yes! Welcome Miss Bianco!" she says, smiling up at me. No one should be this cheery before noon. Must be drugs. "You're a bit early though, I have you scheduled for 10 am."

"I'm aware but this is an emergency," I say through my teeth but ensure my tone is warm. Zoey always says you attract more bees with honey than vinegar. Then again, she says a lot of stupid shit. "I need to be seen right away." I force a smile, my fingertips pulsing. "Please?"

"Dr. Malcolm just stepped into the office," she explains, an apologetic gleam in her eyes. "He usually needs about an hour to settle in." Heather leans down and opens a cabinet door under her desk, a familiar squeak filling the white walls of the minimally decorated practice. She pulls out a stack of paper, attaching the forms to a clipboard. "But you can fill out this document while you wait. It's a standard new patient intake form. It's a bit long so you can take a seat "

"Fine," I swallow away the budding impatience as my gaze flicks to the open cabinet, the corner of a shitty chew toy poking out. "You have a dog?" I ask, taking the clipboard from her hands. If I were to stab her right now, there'd be no one to take care of Pinto. Can't have that.

Saved by a canine. Count your blessings, Heather.

"Oh my God!" Heather's eyes light up. "I do! How did you know?"

"I'm psychic," I joke flatly, eliciting an almost frightening expression from poor Heather. I sigh, rolling my eyes as I nod towards the cabinet. "The toy."

"Oh!" she laughs, pulling out a purple alien chew toy. Christ. Another uneducated dog owner. "Isn't it adorable? My little bubs is going to love it!"