How Not to Vampire - Season 1

6. Semi-Charmed Kind of Life

Pro-Tip for Humans #86: Never, ever use the bathroom in a dive bar.

The Rock Bottom bar was the shitty hole-in-the-wall bar around the corner from my apartment, the diviest of dives and the perfect place to drown your sorrows and/or a broken heart at nine in the morning, mostly due to the fact that it was close by and that it was open.

If you're one of those people who thinks that day-drinking at 9 AM is way too early, please feel free to fuck off, or go and get your heart ripped out, stomped on, shredded, and fed to you, and then we can talk. Once you've done that, I may even pour you some of what I'm having and we can drink together and you can listen to how Jaime had--

"— Stuck her fucking tongue down that guy's throat and practically fucked him in public like that!" I complained.

The bartender stopped pouring the whiskey into my glass and shrugged. "Bitches, right?"

Claude was already shaking his head in disagreement. "Nope! Did not happen that way. He's exaggerating. Bob, tell him you're exaggerating."

"She's not a bitch," I protested. "She's the love of my life. But! She might as well have been fucking that guy in public," I protested. "It feels like that's what she was doing."

Randy was what the bartender called himself, but I kinda got the idea that it wasn't his actual name. He was a big white guy, scruffy beard, lots of tattoos and had a scar about six-inches long on the right side of his face from his hairline to right beneath his earlobe. Looking at him, you got the idea that he was not to be fucked with, but he was a bit of a softie if he decided he liked you.

"You shoulda fucked that guy up," Randy said matter-of-factly and then poured me an extra finger of whiskey.

"I think that goes against every rom-com rule in existence," Claude said unconvincingly while I took the glass and drank before Randy could change his mind about pouring me a little extra.

"I don't think we're watching the same movie then," Randy smirked at Claude. "Damn girl broke his heart man. Somebody's gotta pay."

I slammed the glass on the bar. "Fuck yeah!"

Randy helpfully poured a refill and then tipped the bottle in Claude's direction. I was on my fourth glass, and Claude was still on his first.

"And that right there is exactly why you don't ask your bartender for advice on your love life," Claude pointed out.

"I'm just here to pour the drinks and take your money," Randy smirked. "The bad advice is on the house."

The alcohol was having the desired effect, and I was no longer feeling as fucked-up about Jaime as I had been, but that was only because I wasn't actually thinking about her non-stop. In fact, there were entire minutes that I didn't even think of her and her perfect lips. There was still a stab of pain and that queasiness in my gut every time I pictured Jaime kissing Fuck-face-with-the-perfect-hair, but at least my hands had stopped balling into painful fists in search of somebody to punch.

"Why doesn't she love me?" I implored Claude.

"Oh, she loves you, but she's just not in love with you anymore."

"You really aren't helping."

"I'm buying the drinks," Claude pointed out.

"I stand corrected!" I slammed my glass down for a refill, which Randy happily poured. "You help in the most helpful way!"

"Damn skippy," Claude said, draining his whiskey with a grimace.

"So..." I said as casually as possible, and judging from Claude's suspicious look, it wasn't casual in the slightest, "can we stop at my place?"