He couldn't remember if Paulie had just left to go take a piss, or if he had gone home. Pierre kept looking towards the bar to try to find his casual human friend. The two of them had a wonderful relationship - Paulie would get fucked up on the drug of the week, usually some suds and bud, and Pierre would indulge in a few drinks from the human. By the time Pierre had reached out to the middle-aged human, Paulie had already hammered down three Screwballs and a Bloody Mary, and was starting a fresh blunt. Like usual, the old human had given him some sort of casual hell before sloppily exposing his neck for the vampire's first dive into oblivion.
Fuck it, the vampire thought, his foot stepping wide to catch his swaying hip. He slowly picked up the blue piece of chalk and polished the tip of his pool stick in anticipation of Paulie coming back. They had a little wager going and Paulie owed him a small sum of money already, a small stack of Thomas Jeffersons sitting on the edge of the pool table. A little ditty popped into his head as he rubbed the chalk on meticulously and the tone-deaf vampire hummed it to himself under the din of the bar behind him. Tonight was not a night we wanted to remember, and Pierre was a bit anxious to keep it that way.
Ceci had gone crazy again. This time she had taken it upon herself and gone through his messages with Jenella and decided that he was some kind of cheating, lying scumbag. He had woken up abruptly right in the middle of the day to her throwing his clothing at him, telling him to get out. Groggily, he tried to ask what was wrong with her, only to duck as his phone also came flying at his head. Apparently she didn't like how frequently and intimately he was texting his fledge.
But Ceci didn't know the relationship that he and Jenella had. There was no relationship, no sex since he had gotten together with Ceci almost 6 months ago. There was no intimacy, except for the kind that Ceci had made up in her mind due to her own history of bad relationships and boyfriends. Certainly, there was chatting in foreign languages, and jokes about times past, but nothing risque about talking with his daughter. Ceci knew who Jenella was to him, knew what he was, knew everything. It was all just some big misunderstanding.
"Ceci, I can't go anywhere! Calm down, please!" He jumped out of her bed as a shoe collided with his shoulder. She was crying, hysterically now, and yelling incoherently about what a terrible person he was. Scumbag, liar, prick, any word she could fit in between angry sobs. She was gathering his things and throwing them one-by-one at him with varying success. He reached out to try to calm her, ease her frustration and try to figure out what the hell went wrong. Instead it was her who had left, pulling dramatically away from him and slamming the apartment door for good measure. Pierre stood in his under shorts in the middle of her bedroom, blindsided, groggy, and not altogether sure what had just transpired.
When the sun had set, he found that Ceci's rage had not quelled after abandoning him in her apartment. She had taken her wrath out on his precious Camille. Three metal-deep scratches weaved their way back and forth across his hood and driver's side door, proving that she had the time to tell him how she really felt. Broken glass, which was once his headlights, crunched under his shoes as he ran to access the totality of the damage. The cherry on top, however, were the deep gashes in the two tires on the driver's side, which seemed to have been made with something Pierre could only assume was a hatchet. How could such a tiny woman could cause so much damage?
So after an hour of finding a tow truck that didn't charge him an arm and leg, Camille was brought to the only auto shop open past 8PM. After two new tires, replacement headlights, high beams, and blinker bulbs, along with the two week process of getting the body refinished, Ceci's frustration had ended up costing him well over $600 in repairs. Not exactly the way he wanted to start off the night. And now he was single again.
He called up a taxi and went home, fearful of Ceci coming back to find him on the street in front of her apartment. Now he needed to change the locks again.
Psycho bitch.
Now he leaned drunkenly against the pool table cueing up the solids and stripes, racking them absentmindedly around in their little plastic triangle on the carpeted table top. The vampire took one more look around the crowded bar for Paulie before pulling a cigarette out of the pack in his back pocket and lit it. "Fuck it," he said aloud with the lit cigarette hanging from his lips, smoke filtering out at his words. He lined up his pool stick and drunkenly took aim.
