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Back when Veronica started work here at the hospital as a part-timer, she had another job during the day as a waitress in the Ironbound section of Newark, stacking up a massive amount of work hours to support her two boys on her own. The other females here at the hospital paid no mind to that side of her and only thought of her as the local puta. It was more jealousy than anything else, but that being said, there was no question that Veronica enjoyed watching men trip all over themselves to get her attention.
When Veronica lost her job at the diner (after slapping a regular that copped a feel of her ass), she started working here full time and became intrigued with the mysterious (and devilishly handsome) security guard that everyone called Georgie, especially since he showed little interest in her.
At first she began playfully singing his name out whenever she’d pass him in the corridors. Such flirtations had little effect on her undead target until one night in the cafeteria she opened up a Tupperware containing her homemade chili con carne. The smell was so good, so fresh, he made a passing comment on how he missed the scent of old-fashioned home cooking. Not one to miss a beat, Veronica took that opportunity and ran with it.
Ever since then Veronica would regularly bring in leftovers to share with me. And since my species isn’t exactly known for restraint or will power, I was not about to turn that food away. Human blood may be what I need to survive but my taste buds still love to savor the foods I enjoyed during the living years. Even in my death I can still taste those warm, home-cooked meals Mami used to prepare. And talk about torture, there is none worse than when I check in on Stefanie and smell the meals she used to prepare during the years of our marriage—except now it’s Rippey that gets to enjoy dinner time with her.
So yes, recognizing a path that could lead towards developing a bond, Veronica jumped on the old cliché, “the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” Now that she’s been here a few years, she’s made a couple of friends at work. When she started sharing her meal breaks with me, they teased her about how she was wasting her time. Georgie’s a lost cause. He just likes to keep to himself, they’d say. But the more they told her I was a hopeless case, the more she wanted to pursue me.
Now she’s not talking to me.
It shouldn’t matter. I shouldn’t give a shit. It gets me out of her line of vision. Well, guess what. Now I’m the one that’s missing our breaks together. I’m missing her smile, I’m missing her singing out my name and most of all I’m missing her chili con carne.
My behavior at the Hot Spot turned her off completely. Prior to that, I never openly judged her. She loved that about me. But on what was in effect our first date, I threw her a curve ball and barely resembled the person she thought she was getting to know. Since then she has built a wall of ice around her that I have been unable to penetrate. She goes out of her way to avoid me and refuses to make eye contact anytime we pass each other. Why does this bother me? I don’t need any relationships. This is what I should want. To make it worse, now even my predatory libido is disrupted. Since my change, I have only acted out my carnal desires with women that I feed from or know that I am never going to see again. And since I don’t want to kill Veronica nor leave my job, boning that hot little Mexicana is out of the question. But now I feel like I want her and it is disturbing my equilibrium. Why? Because it doesn’t feel like the desire of a predator. It feels like the desire of a man. I know it’s not love. If my heart still had a beat, it would beat for my very much alive and happily remarried Stefanie. But having grown accustomed to Veronica in my undead existence, I find that her current indifference is affecting me in ways it shouldn’t. Suddenly it feels wrong sitting alone in the cafeteria with just a newspaper and a cup of coffee from the vending machine.
Her entrance into the cafeteria with her familiar little container gives me that little twirl below the ribcage—the one you get with rejection from someone you care about. Care! Did I just use that word? I’ll bet she’s got chili con carne in that container, too. Not above rubbing it in my face, are you, babe?
Shooting for my own personal low in levels of lameness, I have my own little Tupperware. I’m planning to use it in an attempt to break the ice. Even in high school I never resorted to these sorts of cheesy tactics. Suddenly I have no game.
“Veronica!” She does a 180. Really? “Come on, Veronica!” The other workers taking their break look up. I have everyone’s attention but hers. In fact, she’s even picking up her pace back out to the hall. No way, you’re not outrunning me, sweetheart.
“Veronica, stop!”
Not appreciative of the fact that I’ve jumped out in front of her and blocked her path, Veronica clenches her teeth, refusing to make eye contact. “Georgie, déjame quieta!”
“Come on, Veronica, don’t do this.” Who is this person speaking? It can’t be me.
“Georgie, don’t make me call somebody. Leave me alone.”
“Veronica, who’re you gonna call, security? That’s me! Come on, let me just apologize. I behaved very badly the other night.”
“I don’t want to hear it.”
“I know, but I feel terrible about what I did. I want us to be friends. Will you give me another chance? I miss you.” I did not just say that. “You know, us. I miss us, you know, like, talking.” Somebody please shut me up.
Too late.
That last line worked. I can see it. She’s quiet. That means she’s thinking. Boy, I really did it now, didn’t I?
Our eyes make quick contact before she catches herself and diverts them away.
“How are you feeling?” Ah, she still cares.
“Me? I—I’m fine.” Am I stuttering?
“You didn’t get sick again?” She cares and I’m liking it. Boy, am I in trouble.
“No, no, I’m okay. I just miss you. And I’m sorry. I was totally out of line, the way I acted.” Man, am I hating myself right now.
Our eyes meet again. This time she doesn’t turn away. She’s even tearing up. “Why did you act like that to me?”
Change the subject, Nicky. “Look, I made my own chili.” Yeah, real smooth, guy. But hey, what the fuck? I haven’t dated since college. “It doesn’t taste anything like yours.” That’s no lie. “You want to try it and tell me what I’m doing wrong?”
She covers her mouth to suppress a laugh. A tear rolls down the side of her face. She probably wanted to make me work a little harder but her stifled laugh, along with her involuntary tear, has given her up. She’d been hurt and now she’s struggling to play hard-to-get, but we both know the battle’s over. I can be an irresistible prick when I want to be. And that was with no hypnosis, either. Maybe I do still have some game.
Veronica takes my arm and so help me it feels great. I follow submissively. She’s probably leading us to our favorite waiting room. Hopefully Dr. Rothstein and Sabrina haven’t beaten us to it.
Or maybe not, it appears we’re headed in a different direction. The newly constructed North Wing? That’s not scheduled to open until the end of the month.
“Where are we going?”
She’s feeling playful again. “I found a new spot where we can be solito.”
“We’re not supposed to come here, you know. This part of the hospital isn’t open yet.”
Some player from New Jersey Devils donated some money to make this new addition possible. It just passed inspection yesterday and they are planning on opening it before the holidays after a little picture-taking ceremony.
“It’s okay,” teases Veronica. “I have a friend who works for Security.” Her eyes, I know that look. Her tone of voice, I know it too.
She wants it!
The air in this section is clean, untouched, with the scent of fresh paint still dominant in the new waiting area on the second floor. Interestingly Veronica knew right where the switch was to turn on the light. Kind of makes me wonder about her familiarity with this unused section of the hospital. But I better not jump to any conclusions. That already got me into trouble earlier this week. Instead I’ll be a good boy and go along for the ride, cooperatively sitting beside her on the couch while I open my half-assed container of chili.
I hand her a spoon. “Here, I want your honest opinion.”
Her forced smile betrays a certain lack of enthusiasm but she gamely scoops up a spoonful of Chili a la Georgie and gives it a taste.
“Mmm,” she lies after swallowing. “Good!”
“Yeah, but it’s not like yours. Something is missing.”
She wrinkles her nose at me. It’s love, baby. I make mine with love.”
Oh, boy, I know where this is going.
Historically, self-control has never been much of a problem for me, even when my hunger was at its worst and my temptation was at its highest. But now Veronica is pouring out heat with every word and every look in my direction. And her scent has been dancing through my nostrils from the second I spotted her at the cafeteria. This is going be a losing battle. The combined scent of the North Wing’s fresh paint and my not-so-succulent chili are doing their best, but they are not even close to curtailing my hunger. And it’s not my crappy chili that I’m hungering for.
Travis made clear many years ago that the quality of the blood we consume directly affects our capabilities, which is probably why mine are so erratic. A steady diet of undesirables such as thugs and junkies makes it often difficult for me to maintain proper control until I steal some healthy plasma from the hospital. In this instance, control would be the operative word, because that is exactly what I am lacking right now.
How else to explain behind my current behavior around Veronica? Hell, it’s probably the only reason I’m giving her so much attention to begin with. Poor feeding impairs everything; our projections, our strength, and our ability to control the minds of others. Hell, if we can’t control our own minds, how are we going to control others? Knowing that, it is probably safe to say that a genetically resistant vampire would have even more trouble controlling his emotions and his impulses when not properly fed. And right now, my impulse tells me that I need to feed. Real bad. And my chili, hell, not even Veronica’s chili is going to cut it.
Our faces draw closer. “No Veronica, there’s something else. There’s something else that you put in that chili that I’m not able to figure out.”
“Oh, so now you want my secret recipe.” Veronica bats her eyes playfully before closing them, anticipating the meeting of our lips. Surprisingly, even after tasting the rankness of my chili, her breath remains lusciously sweet.
“So you’re not going to tell me the secret ingredient?” I feel like I’m reading off the script of some cheesy Rock Hudson movie.
“No,” replies Doris Day.
“Why not?”
Her scent grows stronger as she tilts her head, licking her lips as they zero in on mine. “You’re going to have to earn it.”
My better judgment is fading. I want to feel and taste the softness of her lips in my mouth. That being said, right now, that kiss is not going to happen.
“WHAT? Georgie, what are you doing?” I bet she didn’t see this coming. “Georgie, stop!”
Sorry babe, Georgie’s not listening. You can take his nosedive towards your lap as official notice that chili is now off the table. And you can also presume from his undoing of your work uniform that what he’s really hungering for is somewhere in there.
Veronica pushes with both hands against my shoulders but she’s overmatched. Her uniform pants are already below her knees.
“Georgie, are you crazy?”
Off with the shoes.
“Georgie!”
And the socks.
“Georgie, no!”
And down with the pants.
You’ve been trying to get my attention all this time, wondering when I was finally going to come around. Well, I’m sure you didn’t imagine it would be like this but here I am, baby.
Veronica tries to hold on to her silk, white panties as I pull them from her grip. ““Georgie not here. Not like this. I can’t! Not now!” Georgie? Who’s Georgie? Sorry baby, but your scent has awoken Nicky, and Nicky ain’t listening. “Oh, my God, you are crazy! Can’t you wait?” She’s almost laughing in disbelief as I pry her panties off. “Georgie, I can’t do this now! Can’t you see?” Yes, I see, sweetheart, but that little hanging string is not an obstacle for me.
Veronica gasps in shock as I pull out the blood-soaked mass of cotton and throw it on the floor. “Oh my God, Georgie, are you a freak?” You have no idea, baby. Another gasp as my head lands down on her lap. “Georgie! Oh, my God, what are you doing?” You know perfectly well what I’m doing. You just can’t believe that I’m doing it now. “Georgie, stop it! Not here! Georgie!” I give her credit. She’s putting up quite a battle. With her promiscuous history, I’m actually kind of surprised. But her arms are now tired and they’re dropping to the side. “Georgie, this is crazy.” She’s out of breath. “Georgie, you have to stop. We can’t do this here.” Hey we came to the North Wing for privacy, didn’t we? “Georgie please, not like this, Georgie. Not...” Her breath’s turning heavy. “Oh, my God, Georgie...” My energy is rising. It is easily gauged by the obvious reaction that comes with a feeding of fresh, healthy blood. A reaction that is ready to pierce through my pants. “Oh my God, Georgie, you feel so good.” She’s settling back, closing her eyes, clenching the fabric of the couch.
A jolt! Her body stiffens, almost as if electrocuted. I must have hit a spot. “Oh, my God! Georgie, don’t stop! Ay Dios mio, Georgie... Georgie... GEORGIE!” I’m not sure what I’m doing right, but whatever it is, I’m not about to change it. “Oh my God, Georgie. Don’t stop! Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Baby! Oh, my God, Georgie. Baby, you are so beautiful. Baby, I love you so much. Oh, my God, Georgie, I’m gonna come! Oh, my god, Georgie, I’m gonna come! Georgie! Georgie! OOOAAAHH!!!”
I know that sound.
The tables turn. Veronica is now the aggressor. “Fuck me Georgie! Fuck me now! I don’t care, Georgie! Fuck me!” You don’t have to tell me twice.
A terrified shriek echoes through the halls of the North Wing!
She saw it! She saw Death! Careless dumb fuck that I am, I lost myself and forgot how I have no projection when feeding. This poor woman just looked down between her legs and saw a cadaver staring at her with blood dripping from its fangs. It was probably just for a flash, as the second she screamed it snapped my projection back into place. But, still, she did see it.
“What’s wrong?”
With my human appearance restored and her head still in a whirl, she’s probably not even sure of what just happened. “Huh? Oh... I... I thought I saw something.”
“What?” I gotta play the part, even though I know damn well what she saw.
“Forget it,” she says, grabbing the back of my head and slamming my face back down between her thighs.