The Last True Vampire(22)

Okay, so she was going in. But just for a second.

The place was considerably less hectic than it had been three nights ago. The clientele a little less highbrow. Claire ordered a five-dollar Coke—what a rip-off—so she wouldn’t look like a complete freak and also to give her hands something to do so she wouldn’t fidget. Because right now she was as jumpy as a grasshopper in a field of tall grass. What would she do if she saw him? Just march right up and say, “Hey, remember me? Probably not, because you were absolutely loaded, but I just wanted to let you know that you gave me the best orgasm of my life. Oh, and I’m pretty sure I’m obsessed with you. And also, I stole your watch.”#p#分页标题#e#

Claire, you are one classy lady.

It didn’t take long to determine that the mysterious Michael wasn’t there tonight. Claire fought against the disappointment that settled in her stomach like a stack of too-heavy pancakes from the diner. It had been stupid of her to make an almost-twenty-mile trek across the city tonight. Sure, she’d told herself that the pickings had been easy at the pool hall and that’s why she’d come back for round two. But that wasn’t why she’d spent forty dollars in cab fare to come down here. She came hoping to find him.

It was as unsettling as it was pathetic.

Claire sidled up to the bar, determined to finish every last drop of her five-dollar soda before she left. It wouldn’t be too hard, considering the glass barely held a few swallows. Especially with all of the ice the bartender had loaded into the glass. Claire snorted. Bars were a total con. These guys ripped people off nightly and it was all totally legit. Talk about a sweet deal …

“Can I get you anything else?”

Claire looked down into her almost empty glass and said to the bartender, “Nah, I’m good. But—” Don’t do it, Claire. Don’t be that girl. “I was wondering, do you remember a guy who was in here a few nights back? Really tall, muscular. Designer clothes. Sort of stood out from the ravers. He was sitting in the VIP section?” Too late. She’d officially crossed over into crazy stalker territory.

“Sorry,” the bartender responded. “There are too many bodies coming in and out of here on event nights. You got a name?”

Yeah, but not his real one. “Michael?” she asked more than said.

“That’s it?” The bartender laughed. “No last name?”

“No.”

So not only did Claire feel like a desperate stalker; she also was pretty sure that now the bartender shared that opinion. He gave her a rueful smile and shook his head. “I wish I could help you out.”

“No worries,” Claire said with a nervous laugh. She wasn’t usually the type to get embarrassed, but this was a new low, even for her. “Have a good one.”

“You too,” the bartender said with a nod of his head.

God, Claire, you are such a loser.

She left Diablo, only marginally mortified. She was supposed to be the stone-cold hustler. The woman who refused to let her emotions rule her. She’d never once chased after a guy or even worried about her love life. Having food to eat and money to pay for electricity had always been her priorities. There’d never been a man worth her time before— Before what, Claire? Before him?

Pathetic.

She hailed a cab and told the driver to drop her off at the bus stop at Sunset and Miller. No way was she going through the bullshit of haggling with a cabbie ready to take her for a fifty-dollar bill. She’d already wasted forty dollars to get to the club district and another twenty-five bucks on a miserable fifteen minutes inside of Diablo. The cab fare just to get her to the bus stop would cost her another five. She’d already thrown away seventy of her four-hundred-dollar take. Good thing tonight was her last night. Because Claire was seriously losing her touch.

The Patek’s metal wristband dug into her thigh and Claire shifted in her seat, stretching out her legs so she could dig it out of her pocket. She shouldn’t have brought it. Should have left it under her mattress or stuffed it in a Ziploc and floated it in the toilet tank for safekeeping like she had her other treasures. For some reason, though, she couldn’t part from it. She traced her fingers along the ridges of the wristband, brushed her thumb across the crystal face.
#p#分页标题#e#
What in the actual hell was wrong with her?

Claire’s life was supposed to be about breaking away from what she’d grown up with, breaking the cycle of dysfunction, and all that uplifting healthy psyche crap. Going after someone who obviously had a laundry list of his own problems wasn’t a good idea. He was probably an addict. A liar. And god only knew what else.