Visionary and the Vampire Tracker

Chapter 3

“Argh,” I grumbled, faceplanting onto the desk in front of me.

“I need a coffee. Pronto,” I mumbled.

“Coming right up,” a much too perky Rachel said.

“How are you not hungover right now?” I accused her.

“You know I never get them,” she said. "Besides, who would get you your coffee if I was indisposed too?”

I snarled back at her, grateful for the coffee, forever annoyed by her not having hangovers like me.

We were back at Joe’s. The early morning shift. I cursed the day this diner was erected under my breath.

I just needed to pop two Advils and I would be fine, I told myself, even though I knew they wouldn’t work.

I always got a migraine. No matter what I did. It wasn’t even with the drinking. It was life. I had a bad migraine about twice a week. The blinding kind, where you can’t see straight and your knees wobble out from under you. Drinking wasn’t gonna prevent it. Yeah it probably didn’t help, but this was my life. I just knew how to deal. Kinda.

I fished one and a half Advils out of my purse. How the half was there, I’ll never know. I chugged it down with the coffee Rach had poured for me and hoped my head would stop spinning.

“Table 24 is back,” Rachel said while wagging her eyebrows at me. I told her about my little crush after a few too many drinks at Jerry’s.

My tummy turned. Was I actually getting butterflies? By just knowing he was back again?

“So?” I said casually, “That’s not my section, it’s yours today.”

“No Zoey,” she said. “He asked for you. Specifically.”

“Oh” was all I managed to mutter out.

“So get to it girl,” Rachel said as she pushed behind me, guiding me towards him.

I felt like I was on a boat. A really rocky boat that was swaying side to side. My stomach was doing flips.

Thank God he was fixated on his phone because if he looked at me right now I think I would’ve keeled over.

I gingerly moved towards his table. Table 24. It sparkled in my mind now. It was his table.

I cleared my throat once I was in front of him. He stopped what he was doing, put down his phone and asked me, “How are you today, Zoey?”

I wasn’t expecting that. So simple, so mature, so-

He used my name. Again. Why did it do things to me? His whole effect on me was concerning, even more so now that he was looking into my eyes. I felt myself getting lost again in his green orbs. And then the pain hit me. I shut my eyes for some relief from the stabbing in my head.

“Zoey, what’s wrong?” The gorgeous man said.

“Oh nothing,” I said, “just a bad migraine.” “Probably self-afflicted.”

He looked at me with concern in his eyes. “Are you sure you should be working under these conditions?” He asked.

“Yeah, it’s honestly no big deal,” I laughed it off. “Happens all the time.”

His concerning look grew even more. I felt like I needed a break from his intense scrutiny, so I decided to change the subject.

“Back so soon?” I said.

“Is that surprising?” He countered.

“We don’t have many repeat customers. Being situated on essentially a highway stop,” I said.

“Well, I figured I should come back. The service was impeccable and I’m sure the coffee would have been great if it had not been decaf,” he cheekily retorted.

I felt blood rush to my cheeks. I had known I was caught yesterday but it was not something I wanted to relive today.

“So,” I said, trying desperately to steer the conversation away from that, “Black coffee again?” I promise I’ll double check the coffee pots.”

“Black coffee it is then. And maybe the farmhouse breakfast as well,” he said, pointing to the crumpled menu.”

“Sure thing,” I heard myself say. Any excuse to pull away from a table with hauntingly beautiful eyes that looked a little too deep in my soul for my liking.

It didn’t help that he was equally as gorgeous as his eyes were. But I only felt really unsteady when he caught my eyes. And maintained eye contact.

I walked over to the station where all the coffee pots were. I couldn’t mess this up again. Although the first time had been a mistake, or a payback. Never mind. Focusing on the task at hand, I walked back over to his table with a cup of black coffee. As well as cutlery for his breakfast.

“Thank you Zoey,” I heard him whisper out.

“My pleasure,” I whispered too.

The mystery man stayed a while. Soon the diner was busy enough to distract me from his presence. At least momentarily.

I went back to his table, asking if there was anything else I could get him.

“Yes,” he said, “I’m thinking of having a slice of pie.”

“Any one in particular?” I asked, “Peach pie is the best seller by far. Can’t go wrong with that choice.”

“What about your choice? What is your favourite pie?” he said.

Oh. I was taken aback. Was this flirting or simply friendly interaction?

I can’t read into it. I can’t read into him.

“Blueberry,” was all I mustered up.

“Blueberry it is then,” he said.

I walked away to cut the pie. The perfect slice of my favourite pie.

He was coming to see me if he requested I serve him. Right? The doubt clouded my mind. He might be long gone tomorrow. All I knew was people didn’t stay very long here. Just Rachel and I. So it’s best not to get attached to the gorgeous guy who makes my tummy feel like butterflies.

I dropped his pie off quickly, not staying to engage in conversation, and walked back to the coffee station where I felt safer, more distance between us two.

I saw he reached his hand up and signal he wanted the check.. I tore off the order from my book, and decided to put my name down again. Just in case. I couldn’t really rationalise my thoughts. I brought the check to his table and was about to walk away before he stopped me.

“You know, I know a doctor you could see. For your migraines,” he said.

“Oh, that’s really sweet, but I’m not sure that would work.”

I had way too little money to justify sorting these migraines out.

Sometimes the migraines took breaks from tormenting me. But I’d had migraines my whole life it seemed. Some weeks were better than others. It seemed like I was getting them more often now though. A couple of migraines within a week of each other. Lucky me I guess. I thought he might chastise me for not receiving his help, but instead his face broke out into a smile. A small one at that, but still, a smile.

I was about to walk away until he handed me a bunch of notes and said a brief goodbye. “Zoey, till tomorrow,” he said.

I finished clearing his table, still dreaming about his beautiful eyes. Once I was done, I fished through the cash he had given me. On top of his meal and drink he had tipped over 150 dollars.

I was flabbergasted. I didn’t know what this meant. Was he expecting something more from me? Or was this just a kind gesture from a stranger?

Shaking my head, I walked back over to the coffee station. I could see Rachel was running around with her tables. I should have helped her, but I just stood and stared. At nothing really. I just needed to take this all in. I needed to clear my head. I needed to know what he wanted. Why I thought he might think I’m special. I was so disarmed around him. I wouldn’t know how to make the first move, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to. This was the very thing I had sworn off. I wasn’t good at relationships. I wasn’t good at situationships. I wasn’t good at anything that involved emotions and men.

Wasn’t that the whole reason I’d moved out here and gotten this job? It was to distance myself from all that could hurt me. And I couldn’t become attached to anyone I met because they were all on their way to somewhere else. I was never someone’s destination, simply a stop on the way.

And I had come to terms with that. But this man. This being. He stirred something inside of me. And he’d come back. But if I thought about it more, I knew I would spiral. So I poured myself some coffee and tried to stop my mind from daydreaming.

“Till tomorrow,” he had said.

I knew better than to trust the words of a man. Only actions proved if someone was serious. But I somehow believed it. And that scared me. The trust I simply had in him. God, I didn’t even know his name. How would I even ask that question? He would know I liked him enough to ask and that would be mortifying. Especially if it turned out that he didn’t like me that way. That he was simply a kind stranger who decided to stay.

The more I thought about him, the more distracted I became.

I went back to my tables and finished my shift right as Rachel sat down as well, cashing up beside me.

“Drinks tonight?” Rachel asked, wagging her eyebrows at me.

“Not tonight,” I said. I needed some clarity, which I knew tequila would not grant me.

“Fine, but if you change your mind, you know where I’ll be.”

She blew a kiss at me as a goodbye. Her boyfriend had pulled up and was taking her home. Or to the bar. Didn’t matter much, Rachel had a new boyfriend every month. She said she liked it that way. They’d stay a while, she’d have her fun, and then they had to leave town. She never got attached. I wish that could be me. But I guess we all have to know our limitations.

I walked home. It wasn’t too far and I enjoyed the walk. A breeze brushed past me, lifting my hair with it. It was long, and maybe a bit straggly. I hadn’t cut my brunette hair in a while. But longer was easier, less styling and a breeze to tie up.

I turned the key to my flat, and opened the door. It was cozy. Which was really code for small. I kicked off my shoes and walked over to the kitchen and poured a glass of water from the sink. I sat down on my way-too-old couch and slowly slipped. The pain in my head hadn’t subsided and I needed more Advil. I rummaged inside my purse for more, knowing that if there wasn’t more in my Mary Poppins bag, there would be none in my flat. Empty. I groaned and slid back into the couch massaging my forehead.

Sometimes I’d get flashes of things, like images, when I’d get these migraines. They never made sense and sometimes were hard to decipher even what I was looking at.

Maybe I was reading too many books. Too many fantasy books. That would explain the supernatural images that floated around my head when a migraine took hold of me.

With no more Advil to take, I decided to try and sleep.