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I lifted an eyebrow. “So, you were turned when she was a baby and you stayed in the city? Nobody’s recognized you?”
“I, uh, stay in the shadows.”
Staring hard into his eyes, I analyzed him. He had no air of deceit and his gaze looked desperate and sad. Finally, I said, “Okay. It’s two hundred upfront, and another three once I get you the info you need.”
Joe relaxed and fished two bills from his pocket, then laid them on the desk. “No problem. And thank you.”
I snorted. “Don’t thank me yet.” I went to the DMV’s site and easily accessed their servers. “What’s her name and date of birth?”
Joe gave me the information I needed, and I found her driver’s license easily enough. I printed it out for him and handed it over. “The other three is due now.”
After he slapped the bills into the palm of my hand, I said, “Pleasure doing business with you.” I quickly wiped Theo’s computer history and we left the office.
We went our separate ways, me walking down the sidewalk back toward the safety of my apartment. All I wanted was to get back to the computer to see what Face was doing. I grinned to myself as I thought about his “club” nickname. It was easy enough to figure out how he’d acquired the nickname, but his real name had been on the gradation diploma from the University of North Texas hanging on his office wall, and I had tucked that little bit of info into my brain for proper stalking later. A simple reverse image search of his handsome mug I’d snagged from his driver’s license photo had shown me all I needed to know about the guy. Hundreds of pictures popped up of him in various ads, and my favorite—a huge billboard in Southern California depicting him in his underwear not dissimilar to the famous Marky-Mark Calvin Klein ad from the nineties. Except Parker Lee Knight was so much sexier and gorgeous than Mr. Wahlberg could ever be.
My daydreaming had made for a quick walk back to my place. I sucked down a blood bag from the fridge before going back to my dark corner and checking the Nighthawks’ computer system. Face accessing that site I managed had led me to the discovery of the vampire bikers who seemed to want to be the unethical cops of the underworld of this city. My obsession with them had been going on for months. Every time I witnessed or learned of a supernatural crime, I’d texted their lame anonymous tip line and they had always followed up with me watching from the shadows like some deranged stalker.
Maybe that was what I was. Because that would always be what I did. Hide in the shadows, stealing blood bags from the local blood bank because I was too hideous and frightening to feed from the abundance of blood whores in this city who got paid for their delicious human blood.
My phone rang with another unknown number. I answered, “Rocky.”
“Hello, ma’am. I am currently in need of your computer assistance,” drawled a male voice that sounded like he’d been alive, or at least existing, for a very long.
“Sure, what can I do for you?” I asked.
“I would like to acquire your services. I need you to gather some information on a subject I’ve been trying to find. I’ve hit a dead end and thought maybe you could help me find out more about this person through the use of modern technology and the internet?” he replied.
I smiled at his formal language. Definitely an old vampire. “Absolutely. When would you like to meet?”
Chapter 8
Baby Wolf
Face
Thankfully, Bloome had been keeping in close contact with MyAnna about the baby. She wasn’t even halfway through her labor when the sun started to come up and Harlan transformed back into his human form. He didn’t even bother to shower—he put on his clothes, hopped on his bike, and sped to the hospital. It was then I felt comfortable enough to go upstairs and go to bed. I had been keeping him company. I wanted to be supportive and didn’t want him thinking I didn’t care.
After a blood bag, I lay down and fell asleep quickly, Rocky’s beautiful green eyes the last thing I saw before sleep pulled me under.
I walked out of the audition stunned. Out of all the guys in that waiting room, I’d been the last to interview for the part and was told that I had been just who they’d been waiting for. I was instructed to come back tomorrow to begin photographing. They ordered me to get a haircut, teeth whitening treatment, and a fully nude spray tan. Hair cut above the ears and collar, and longer on the top.
Once I reached the lobby of the building, I searched on my phone for the closest barber. Thankfully, there was one a few blocks down and I could walk there. The wait was long, but I didn’t mind, I liked to people-watch. I stared out at the bustling sidewalks full of people and hoped I would get used to it. I’d moved out here in hopes of becoming an actor but was told I needed to try modeling first to get my foot in the door. Back home in Texas, I’d found a photographer to do some headshots of me and then I’d Googled modeling agencies in LA. I sent my headshot off to every single one of them—over a dozen. I got three replies, with an invitation from them all to come to the city of angels at my own expense and audition for them. I apparently got lucky and landed the first one I interviewed for. I cringed when they said it was an underwear ad, but it was apparent I was going to have to get over whatever shyness I had real quick. They’d made me strip down to my boxers during the audition. Wasn’t even sure why they called it an audition—I had no real talent except with computers, and apparently, very good genes.
After the haircut, which cost me much more than I planned, I located a tanning salon on the same street. I was stoked to find out I could whiten my teeth and get a spray tan at the same spot. Those were both expensive as well, and I hoped this job would pay me enough for all this ridiculously shallow upkeep.
The next day, I was nervous as I arrived at the building they’d told me to go to for the photo shoot. Bright lights and too much noise greeted me in a lobby with a pretty receptionist who instructed me where to go. Walking into the room, I was overwhelmed by all the large cameras, portable lights, and backdrops.
“Hello, Parker. How are you?” the older guy I’d interviewed with yesterday, Ellis, greeted me.
“I’m good. Nervous, honestly.”
“Well, you look fantastic. Love the hair and your teeth look much brighter.” A woman walked up to us holding a camera. “This is Lisa, photog extraordinaire.”
I shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Let’s get started,” she said, leading me to a large wardrobe room where clothes were hung up on racks. A tuxedo, a business suit, a pair of jeans, and a polo shirt hung on one hook. “Those are your clothes for the shoot. Start with the jeans outfit and come out when you’re ready.”
I nodded, taking the outfit and putting it on. The label told me it was very expensive, but they fit like a glove and were very comfortable. “No wonder people pay an arm and leg for this stuff,” I muttered to myself as I slid on leather loafers and went out into the studio.
