Es deals with him, explaining with hand on hip the appropriate Roxy behavior. I catch her eye and gesture to the back, then escape the customers.
She finds me hovering over the remains of my birthday cake, staring at the money.
"Oh my! Did that sexy thing leave that for you?"
I nod, still unable to speak.
"And did you give him your number? Tell me you gave him your number!"
I shake my head. "But he gave me his." I show her the card.
She whistles under her breath. "Girlfriend, you had better call him. If you don't, I will."
I peel off a few twenties and slip them in Es's hand. "For your fund."
Her eyes fill with tears and she sniffs as she delicately brushes them away. "What are you doing, girl? Do you know how long it takes me to do my face? You can't give me this. You need it too much."
I shake my head. "Es, you've been saving for your gender reassignment surgery for years. I'm just doing my small part to help. You'll get there." She's on the hormones and she had the breast augmentation done, but there's one last piece to her transition that she hasn't been able to afford yet, and she's desperate to.
She hugs me, then flits away, mumbling about reapplying her mascara. I smile, and pick up an order for one of my tables.
The rest of my shift flies by, and my feet and back are sore when morning breaks. Es kisses my cheek and slips a small box into my hand as I leave. "Happy Birthday," she says.
I thank her and open the box. Inside is a pendant on a silver chain. The stone is beautiful— a blend of greens and blues. I slip it over my head.
"Pete said you'd need it. It's labradorite. It's protection against psychic vampirism, and it will help awaken your own powers."
I don't buy into most of that stuff, but I keep the pendant on as I walk back to my apartment. There's ice on the ground, the rain freezing in the dropping temperatures. I'm careful as I walk, and I pull my thin jacket around my body, trying to stay a little dry. It doesn't work. I'll need to budget for a new winter coat soon. I remember the wad of cash in my pocket and smile despite the cold.
I'm halfway home when once again I feel the presence of someone following me. This time, I don't try to run. Instead, I turn, pepper spray in hand, and challenge my invisible stalker. "Who's there? What do you want?"
I wait, my legs shoulder-width apart, fighting stance ready. I hear nothing, see nothing. Feeling foolish, I retrace my steps, but it's misty and I can't see much. "I know you're there!"
My voice sounds so loud, so crass in the silent, pre-dawn morning.
Still, nothing.
I sigh and turn, walking briskly to my apartment.
The rest of the world will be waking up for their weekend soon, but my eyes are heavy, and I'm ready for bed. Then I remember I promised my mom we'd get something to eat. I yawn, stretch and try to wake myself up as I open the door. "Mom! I'm home. I'm just going to shower and change and then we can go out."
I hurry upstairs and slip out of my work clothes. My shower is quick, and I pull on my jeans and a blue sweater and use make-up to make myself look a little less tired before I see my mom. She's always worried I'm working too hard and not getting enough sleep. She's not wrong, but I can't let her know that.
I expect to find her in the living room or kitchen. When I don't, I knock on her bedroom door, the only room left besides our shared bathroom. There's no answer.
"Mom?"
I nudge the door open and peek in. I see her small foot hanging off her bed, so I push the door open all the way. She must not have woken yet.
"Mom?" I creep closer, not sure if I should wake her or let her sleep. She's lying on her back, her head turned away from me, the blankets askew around her. I can only see the back of her head, and my heart beats harder, as if it knows something I don't.
My voice becomes more panicked. "Mom!" I reach for her, my hand landing on her shoulder. She doesn't move. I brush the long hair out of her face. Her eyes are closed, but still she doesn't respond. I scream for her, but her body is motionless. Lifeless.
I reach for my cell phone and dial 9-1-1. "Please help me. I think something happened to my mother. I think she's dead."
Chapter 2
THE HOSPITAL
"Sometimes wolves come in sheep's clothing."
—Fenris Vane
The medics found a pulse when they arrived, and we made fast time to the hospital in the ambulance. Now I sit, waiting. They've taken her to a private room, hooked her to machines, stuck needles in her to take her blood. They asked me to leave, to wait in the lobby and someone would come with an update soon. They threw words around like stroke, heart attack, brain aneurysm, but no one seems to know anything. Their words are like bubbles popping in the air. No substance, just ideas.