Those That Were

Chapter 4

Bryson inclined his head and raised his hands in mock surrender. "Well, you got me. Make sure no one else does. Hopefully this goes away. Quickly, I hope."

"I don't gossip," he said without pause, "but this isn't something that goes away, Bryson. Not in this day and age. I'd suggest the big-bad wolf got himself a fake mustache and laid low for a while." Albert chuckled for a moment at the mental picture he'd painted. And then, he grew serious. "How old are you, Bryson? You've never said."

"Seventy-one," he answered, blue eyes flashing from left to right.

Albert only nodded, and was suddenly lost in thought. Before either one of them could say anything else, Lindsey burst in.

"Bryson," she said, "You're tables are getting antsy. Get a move on. There's another one in your section. Asked specifically for 'the wolf'. I assume she meant you."

Bryson nodded and let himself out of the kitchen. On the way to the new guest, he checked over his other tables, retrieving and delivering a couple checks and refilling a few glasses. And after, his eyes found the new customer.

Amelia Brand sat alone in a booth, dark hair whirling down her small-framed body. Her eyes were downcast and her menu remained untouched. A pair of pale hands nervously clasped each other on the surface of the table. Bryson raised a brow, and figured this had everything to do with her nearly hitting him with her car rather than their passing conversation at her cash register yesterday. After all, she hadn't asked for him by name... only by race.

"Hi, my name is Bryson and I will be your server today," came his polite and well-rehearsed greeting. "What can I get for you today?" The words felt silly. He already knew she'd order nothing --Amelia was a vampire. Vampires didn't need food or drink. She was also a vampire that he'd ran into an alarming amount of times since yesterday. Her eyes flicked up, recognition immediately pooling in them.

"It's you," were her next words. "You're the one that has the car. At the gas station."

"I see my reputation precedes me," Bryson put away his notepad and offered a smile. "But, if we're gonna get technical, I am the one that had  the car. Of that, you're well aware, though. Probably."

"Right. I nearly wrecked into you this morning," she said, hands reaching to her side. After a moment, she pulled out a watch. It was one Bryson quickly recognized, as it was the one he'd had for years. He forgot he'd put it on this morning. "You left this in my car --or rather, it fell from your bag. I figured I'd take the opportunity to bring it back. That  and apologize again. In person."

"Thank you," he answered, "But apologies are completely unnecessary. I needed a ride to work, so it worked out. I'll chalk it up to a streak of luck."

Amelia looked around uncomfortably. "Well, I suppose if you don't have a ride back home after your shift... I can nearly hit you again."

"If you're offering, that's good with me. I don't think it would be wise to run around the middle of town tonight, " he said, and then added, "Anyways, as far as our menu goes here, I don't think we sell anything of interest to you." Bryson lowered his voice, "But by all means, help yourself to some of these customers. Particularly that booth over there. All of them are getting on my damned nerves today."

Her laugh came out as a soft trill.

Bryson cocked his head to the side as the laugh brightened her face. It hadn't occurred to him in the past two encounters they'd had beforehand that Amelia was a beautiful woman, but he saw it now as she beamed. Her coal-rimmed eyes were large and sparkly, hinting at depth in her soul. Her angular, heart face was sweet and soft, with gently angled brows that framed her delicate features. Bryson noticed that her dimples and small, white teeth made the predator look a great-deal less frightening than was probably good for the human populace --the prey.

"I do not believe that would be good for business." Her jovial expression did not falter. "What time do you leave work?"

"Eight," he answered. "Long shift. Ready for it to be done and over with."

"If you think that that  is a long shift, you should see the type they give to those who need no sleep," Amelia said. "Like I told you earlier this morning, my last shift was one that was seventeen hours long."

"I would rather die." His words were almost ironic, considering Amelia was classified as an undead. "But I bet the paycheck is good."

Amelia sniffed. "Doesn't nearly sit as well as being an old-money vampire like my brood-father. He and his entire brood-family before him were tremendously good at business. I've met a few of his predecessors and each one of them is an aristocrat and an entrepreneur if I've ever met one. Perhaps one day I will take to the mantle."

"Your brood-father?" he asked, suddenly curious. "What's that?"

"I guess that's not common knowledge anymore," she said with another tinkering laugh. She sobered quickly. "It's exactly what you would guess. A brood-father is the man who changes a person from human to vampire. Same as a brood-mother, if a woman is the one to perform the ritual. The one who changes you is a pretty important person. The love I feel for my brood-father runs far deeper than the love I bore for my birth-father. Same for all of us."

"Really?" Bryson couldn't imagine loving someone more than he loved his own father.

"It's chemical. That's the short of it," she answered, "If you want the long story, you can ask on the way back to your home tonight. I am getting in the way of your tips now, so I shall go."

She stood, and dusted off her black pants. For the next minute, she rummaged through the handbag that hung from her side and pulled out her wallet.

"Your tip," was all she said before handing Bryson a crisp one-hundred dollar bill. She walked away before he could find the words to thank her for such a generous amount. With renewed purpose, he got back to his tables, giving the best service he could muster up. Most everyone didn't seem to notice the wait; they were all busy eating or talking amongst themselves. The ones that did notice? Well, Amelia's tip covered that and more.

Lindsey walked up to him after a few minutes. "The girl talked a lot. Why didn't she order anything? Nothing on the menu she liked?"

Bryson chuckled. "That's an understatement. And yes, she's quite the talker."

Something in Lindsey's eyes told Bryson that she already wasn't fond of Amelia. "I am guessing that she's a girlfriend of yours."

"No," Bryson answered, "Close. She about hit me with her car this morning."

"Well," his manager ruffled at her apron, "Whoever she is... it really is rude not  to order something. Especially from someone you could have killed."

"Ease up," Bryson patted Lindsey on the back, overlooking the apparent disdain and jealousy written all over her face. "I really doubt you want her eating here. Besides, she left arguably the best tip I've gotten since I've been working here. My feelings aren't hurt."

"Why not at least order a drink?"

"If she ordered a drink," Bryson began with a sort of smirk, "It would be you. Amelia's a vampire. If you'd gotten close enough, you could see that."

"First name basis, then," Lindsey said coolly, "Weird. I thought werewolves and vampires hated each other."

"That's only if you believe in all the nonsense that the news and books are spewing," Bryson said. "I don't have any problem with any of them. Never have. The whole rivalry thing is just another dumb, made-up rumor."

She had nothing else to say. Lindsey only sighed, and walked away. Perhaps he'd said something hurtful; he didn't know. Right now, Bryson couldn't care less who he'd offended. He just wanted to go the hell home, where he could relax and get away from all the vultures in consumer's clothing. With a deep breath of his own, he began waiting the tables again.

He still had half a shift to go.