As I stumbled through the streets, I tried to think hard on how long that crazy bitch had been biting me. It might not have been as long as I thought at first. I was still up and about. Light-headed, yes, but still upright. I didn't want to take any chances, though, so I slithered into a back alley and tore up my shirt, making something that really couldn't called a tourniquet or a bandage, but was better than nothing. I zipped up my jacket so no one would notice I had no shirt and a stabbed neck. I kept some of the strips for rags, and taking my last two single bills, bought a bottle of water at a street-side vending machine. I wiped up some of the blood and retied my new neck wear. I ended up draining the rest of the water greedily. I didn't know why, but I was absolutely thirsty. I didn't have any more free single bills, so I'd have to go without water for a while. It tortured me. I didn't even have enough liquid in me to sweat anymore. The sweat that had managed to leak out during the previous insanity stunk up my clothes and chilled me to the bone. I caught a reflection of myself in a store-front window and saw how pale I was. I wasn't completely dead looking, at least, but I looked pretty sick. That was going to make it that much harder to get into the Green Room.

The Green Room was one of those dirty little bars that was just clean enough to attract the college crowd, but not quite honest enough to check their ID's. The street was dark enough to pass by most people's attention, but not so dark to where you would be playing with the mace in your pocket—most nights, anyway. Some of the more desperate low-lives around there would occasionally try to make a nice, fat, easy grab off some drunken college kid. Being that I looked like a down-on-his-luck off-track better stinking of whiskey with a wild look in his eye, I was seriously doubting the doorman was going to be nice to me. One thing you could count on at the Green Room is that they tried—not very hard, but it's the thought that counts—to keep some of the more scummy people out of there. They let in some danger, mainly because it excited the kids a bit, but not all of it, because then the kids would wise up and go someplace safer. It was all part of the fantasy: they'd stumble in, some dressed up like peacocks—pointed leather shoes, pea-coats, and the occasional fedora, for some reason—some with buttoned up chambray shirts and thick glasses, like their mothers still laid out their clothes in the morning, and the girls would alternate between utter skank or dressing up like their male counter-parts. I couldn't make sense of it, seven years ago when I was old enough to go, and especially right then. Some moron was stumbling up the street looking worse off than I was, so I swiped the fedora off his head and pulled the brim low on my brow, trying hard and failing harder to play it cool. I didn't even have any cigarettes left to complete the picture. I was a regular bargain-bin badass. The other guy didn't seem to notice his hat was missing, so at least I knew could pull it off against someone worse off than I--somebody that had leaked through the bottom of the barrel. I sighed. I didn't even know my spirits could get any lower.

I stood up as best I could, but kept my shoulders a bit hunched; I'd rather come off as somebody that pre-gamed than somebody in peril. I walked right past the entrance and the doorman, waited for him to be flattered by a group that had a couple of nice looking girls in it, than swept around his back and into the thick of the group as they pushed their way in.

The interior spoke volumes of the place's fragments of personality. The Green Room was the kind of place bought and owned by new money, not a lot of money but enough, and it had been grabbed by a thug with quick hands. It didn't have the class of a distinguished establishment. This place dealt out cheap thrills coated in sickly and dim green neon lighting. If it were any brighter inside you could see how the varnish was already coming off most of the wood. They over-charged for everything. That somehow made the Green Room "exclusive." Most of the clientele didn't know any better. They were kids mostly, like I said, and they were too distracted by the show the place put on, the "ambiance." Some of them were excited by the doorman, for Christ's sake, a 250 pound fat guy with a tired look on his face. Stick him in a too-tight shirt that said "SECURITY" on it, have him stand with his back straight, and everyone will think he's serious business.

The green lights were everywhere, running along the walls just below the ceiling. There were some pool tables off in the corner where some people were trying really hard to act like they didn't suck at pool. There was an alcove to the right of the door, where the floor was slightly raised. The amps and house drum-kit made it a stage. No cymbals. Typical. A hallway in the back led to an outside area, but it was closed off for the winter. There was a small space where people were pretending they were on a dance floor. I was surprised at how they minded the odd-placed support beams so well. The walls were lined with photos of movie stars, ranging from the present to eighty years ago. I spotted a picture of Humphrey Bogart looking as fed-up as I was. I tipped my hat to him.

The bar was tended by a few good-looking people, and across from it was a small set of stairs leading to a raised section guarded by another tired-looking fat guy. Over his head I saw some purple plush couches and a few tables, with Tony Green, the proprietor and man I was after, sitting at one of them, laughing with a few others better dressed than he was. His white suit was so friggin' tacky. No tie, either.

I looked around, trying to figure out how I was going to get to him, but came up with nothing. I was too tired, too burnt-out, too half-dead. So, with a shrug of my shoulders, I shuffled over to the fat bouncer. The guy didn't even look at me, but he did put his chest out and stand wider.

"Um, hi," I croaked. It got me nothing. I toed some bottle caps on the floor, and tried again, "Um, hey, I need to see Mr. Green about something important."

The bouncer spoke in a soft voice, "No, you don't."

"Actually, I do," I said while rubbing the back of my head. "It's really important..."

"Get out before you get knocked out." He still didn't look at me.

I started to get pissed. Fuck it. Let's make a scene. That'd get Tony's attention. "Whatcha gonna do," I asked, "shake your tits at me?"

I barely saw the wide swing coming. Bad move on his part; he should have kept it close. I ducked it and wormed past him up the stairs, calling out to Tony.

My voice reached him, and he looked up and then looked sick. He slowly calmed himself as I shambled over. The people flanking him looked pretty important. I saw him gulp as the bouncer thudded towards me, putting a hand up when the bouncer grabbed my shoulder, "Hold it, Miles." I grinned. He knew I was thinking spectacle. I had to play it real careful, though. Tony could easily have me dragged somewhere quiet.

"Hey, 'sup, Tony," I said. "Long time, no see."

Tony excused himself from his party and walked over to me with his hand extended. "Alex, yeah, long time. Never expected to see anyone from the old crowd around." He shook my hand and then tried to look disappointed. "I'm sorry, though, I really don't have time to catch up with old friends. I am glad to see that you are enjoying yourself." He misinterpreted my dead-on-my-feet swaying for drunkenness. But then again, I probably was still drunk. He looked over my shoulder. "Miles, let Miranda know that Mr. Reed's next two drinks are on the house."

Two drinks.

Two fucking drinks.

"Tony, I'm not here to catch up," I said through my grinding teeth. "I'm here because you owe me."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Alex. I'm very busy..."

"So am I."

"That's nice, but to be honest, you're starting to piss me off." His fists were clenched. "It's good to see you on your feet and back in town, but whatever business you think you can bring isn't wanted. The Green Room doesn't need anyone to back it, so please, do me a favor, and tell whoever sent you—if anyone is dumb enough to take you on—that their interest is appreciated but not wanted."

"Bro. What in the fuck are you babbling about?" And what was with with the quasi "hear ye, hear ye" talk?

He cocked an eyebrow. "No one sent you?"

I slowly shook my head. "What gave you that idea?"

"Well, I just figured, if you were back, you had to be with somebody, but if you're in business for yourself..."

"I'm not in business. Whatsoever."

He looked confused, and then he relaxed with a laugh. "Really? Well, well, well, Alex Reed, a regular nine to five guy, huh? Never thought I'd see it. All right, if this is purely a social call, please head back to the bar. I'll catch up with you later. Until then, please enjoy two..."

My face said it all.

"...three...?"

My face didn't change.

Tony looked exasperated. "Look, Alex, you look like you've already had enough..."

"Is that seriously the reason you're gonna give me, you cheap sonuvabitch?"

"Well, shit, Alex, you smell like you've already had enough..."

"Tony," I jutted in, rubbing my face, "I guess you can say I am here on business. My business. Just mine. I don't want your cheapie drinks or your shit bravado. I want you to remember that you owe me." He moved to speak, but I cut him off again, "A lot."

He snapped his mouth shut, fidgeting. He then snapped his finger angrily at Miles, so I put a hand up, saying, "So, you want to make a scene? How'd it go again? 'If it's gonna be a scene...'"

Tony sighed and waved Miles off. "Yeah, yeah, 'might as well make it a goddamn spectacle.' I remember, I remember." He put up a finger, telling me to wait a minute. He spoke quickly and apologetically to the people at the table, and then walked back. "Look, follow me, and keep quiet."

He led the way to a storeroom, and we pulled up some crates to sit on. He folded his hands and snapped, "What the hell do you want?"

"Easy. I just want to know if any of the doctors we knew, or anyone like them, are still around."

"That's it?"

"That's it. I'm in a bit of a scrape, and I don't want to go to the hospital."

He chuckled and wore a snide smile, "Still getting into trouble? Typical. Figured you'd learn by know, Alex."

"I did learn. I'm serious, I don't run around with anyone like them anymore. Look, something came up and tried to drag me down with it. Don't get excited," I said as he started to rise, looking more than a little bit angry, "I wasn't stupid enough to bring it here, or to get you in it. I don't think it'll be that serious, not after a few days, and if it is, only for me. But I do need a doc, and bad."

"Even though it's against my better judgment to ask this, what happened?"

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

"Some crazy bitch picked me up, took me back to her place, and then bit me." I showed him the mark. "I think she bit me, anyway. I was bleeding a lot."

"That doesn't look like any bite I've ever seen..."

"Tell me about it. For all I know, she stabbed me with something, but only so deep. I was bleeding all over the place. And I'd been drinking. I can think clear for now, but only if I focus real hard. Just don't ask me to walk in a straight line."

"And you want me to give you a couple of grand to carry in your front pocket?"

"I can handle myself. I handled her boy-toy well enough. He's about your weight, but built much differently."

"Why do you want the money now, anyway?"

I gave him a look, "What time is it?"

"What?"

I repeated the question for him. "Just about one," he said.

"Well, what banks are open? And what ATM is going to give me the money to keep Franks' or Hendrick's mouths shut?"

"Hendrick is out. Got twenty to life for handing out pills a few years ago. Franks is the only guy who'll put up with your particular brand of bullshit, Alex, so I'll take you to him."

"Take me?" I blinked.

He nodded and rose. "If I'm paying you back, I'm doing it in full. You're too much trouble to have around, Alex."

I had nothing to say to that, so I followed him to his car. He hadn't drank a drop, he said, and pretty much never did when he was "working." I leaned back into the seat and tried to keep my eyes open. Tony must have seen me fighting it, so he kept up the talk, "So, she picked you up, eh?" He laughed. "You, of all people."

"Sometimes I can be cute. I guess."

He laughed again. "What was it about this boy-toy, now? You gettin' broad minded, Alex?"

"Nope. Didn't even know he existed until I fought her off. He's her bodyguard, for all I know."

"Bodyguard?"

"I don't know, Tony, the whole thing got pretty weird, pretty fast. I was too out of it when I got there." Bullshit. "Too out of it" was not even scratching the surface. That chick had all of me, and I didn't know when I handed it out. I had willingly walked down that stairwell, past that steel door. If I hadn't listened to that basic, primordial need to survive, God only knows what she would've done to me. The thought made me shudder, but I kept up my hard-boiled facade, "I was pretty drunk, and I guess I was too busy reveling in my own good fortune to keep my guard up."

"She must have been a hell of a catch."

"She had a nice, sweet smile, with all the gentleness of an ice-pick." Tony laughed again. I was glad that my misery was benefiting someone, at least. Tony asked, "What do you think she wanted to do you, Alex? Just kill you? Like some crazy serial killer? Shit, and a rich one, too. You did say she had some kind of bodyguard, right?"

"I don't know what she wanted, but yeah, she did seem pretty loaded. That's why I'm skipping the hospital."

"You going to go to the cops?"

"Who'd believe me? I even get the feeling you don't believe me."

"Actually, I do. I've known you long enough to know you're the kind of idiot that would get into this sort of mess. Plus, why the hell else would you come out to see me? You really were serious about having a job and all that, weren't ya?"

"Yeah, I was. A crummy little apartment, too. All the same, all of that's mine. I earned it. It's not much, but I got it, and the right way."

"Damn, it really has been a long time, if I'm hearing you talk like that. But then again, I guess it's the same philosophy you had back then, just that you're applying it differently."

"I just know what it's like to get backed into a corner, that's all."

Tony couldn't make much sense of that, so we stayed silent for a while, listening to the hum of his engine. The streets looked almost deserted. Our only company was the occasional cop looking for wandering, or even sometimes driving, drunks. Maybe Tony was having similar thoughts, because he asked, "Wait, you were drinking? How much blood did you lose?"

"Well, if I knew the way back to her place, I guess we could go back and see."

"Don't be an ass. How much did you drink? From what you said, it must have been a lot."

I thought on that. How much of my daze was from drinking? How much of it had been because of her? I stopped and focused on that second question, thinking hard about what I meant. I'd seen a woman before; I wasn't some teenager. I usually had a bit of sense, and enough not to let my guard down, especially when walking into someone else's place. And especially if they had key-card locked doors. But if I had been drinking that much, and had bled all that, how in the hell had I walked away? How did I get so fucked that I wandered in there in the first place?

Her eyes. My thoughts went right to her eyes, and the instant they did, I had a terrible queasy feeling in my stomach. Those eyes... there had been so much in those eyes. They had seemed to stretch on forever. I just wanted to fall forward and splash into them, to sink to the bottom. Everything would be just fine...

I shook my head violently. "Maybe not a lot at all," I said. "Maybe she drugged me."

"That'd be even freakin' worse. Just do me a favor, and keep your damn eyes open. I got enough problems without you dying in my car on the way to a back-alley doctor."

"Yeah," I whispered. I didn't want to close them either, because I had the feeling I would be seeing those eyes in my dreams for a long time.

===+++===

I did pass out at some point, though, because the next thing I knew I was getting slapped across the face by Franks. "Up," he barked, "You can't stay here."

"Aren't ya goin' to at least do somethin'?" My speech was slurred.

"I did, don't you remember?"

"You did?"

He then went on about giving me some water through an IV or something, and with some other stuff that was supposed to help make blood or something. I don't know what exactly, the names of all the stuff were pretty long. He also said that I should rest, yes, definitely rest.

"What, just sleep it off? I don't need blood or anything?" It all sounded kind of sketchy to me, but then again, this guy was just what I wanted: unlicensed and un-watched.

"No, you lost close to a pint, though I have to say, I'm not too sure how you could bleed so much and walk away. She had to have stuck you pretty bad, bad enough to kill, but not quite enough to drop you immediately. You do have several wounds on your neck, some pretty close to very vital points. What were you stuck with?"

"I have no idea. Something bigger than a needle."

"Yes, a little bit bigger than a needle. Whatever. You're not going to die, most likely, but you need time to rest. Don't drive, don't do much of anything. You're going to be light-headed for at least a day, and don't be surprised if you pass out. The best idea would be to just sleep." He had been scribbling in a notebook the entire time. When he finished, he tore out the page and handed me a little list of what to eat and what to do. I laughed, "Drink water? Was that why I felt so thirsty?"

"You still will. You need water to make blood, so drink it."

"All right. How much do I owe you?"

"Tony paid for everything in full."

I blinked. "Where is he?"

"I remember him saying something about getting as far as possible from you because you are, and I quote, 'A complete and total fucking disaster on legs.' Oh, yes, and he also says you two are square now, so don't ever go near him again."

"Friends like these." I sat up on the filthy bed, rubbing the back of my head. Franks was right, I still was pretty woozy. I couldn't let it get on top of me, I still had to make it home, and in one piece. I wasn't out of the woods yet. Something told me to stay on guard. I stood up and made for the door, saying over my shoulder, "Too bad about Hendrick, eh?"

Franks wore a shark's smile, "Yeah, too bad all his business floated my way."

I walked out of the dank basement where Franks had set up shop. At the top of the stairs I found myself in the kitchen of a tiny and cheap Chinese restaurant. Quaint, if you're feeling nice, which I sure as hell wasn't. The staff gave me some funny looks, and I gave their cutlery some funny looks, being that it looked a little too similar to the tools that Franks used. I walked around the front counter, not even bothering to acknowledge the stares from the patrons, and pushed my way into the noon sun outside.

The first thing I did before even heading for a bus was ask someone where I could buy a new shirt. I had no idea how long it would take to get back, my jacket was still wet with sweat, and there was a chill in the air. I found a decent enough place, bought another white tee, and put it on. I had barely enough cash to pay for it. I then wandered about for an ATM, looking to draw cash. I found one next to a station where I could check the balance on my Metro cards. I popped in my card and went through the usual motions. I got as far as putting in the amount I wanted when the screen froze up, went blank, and then said TRANSACTION CANCELLED. I gulped, licked my lips, and tried again. TRANSACTION CANCELLED. I tried one more time. TRANSACTION CANCELLED. I put my card away and started to back up. I started off, not even bothering to check my Metro cards.

I didn't run. I wasn't quite walking... but I didn't run.

===+++===

I took back alleys mostly, and I kept looking over my shoulder. I didn't stop once. That might have been a mistake; by the time I even got remotely close to my neighborhood, I was completely starved and nodding out on my feet. Night had started to fall, too, the sky just turning from gold to various purples and greens. My cell was dead, and I wasn't too sure if I wanted to turn it on anyway. My boss was kind of an asshole. Forklift drivers aren't on fucking call, you know.

It seemed entirely too ridiculous that those freaks could possibly freeze my accounts, but one way or another, they had pulled it off. Maybe. I might have just been getting really paranoid. Plus, wouldn't somebody lose their job if they did that, even if it was under the orders of someone "influential?" Money couldn't buy everything, and even the worst banks maintain their business due to their guaranteed security for their clients. And for someone "influential" to go to such extremes seemed a little funny. It would be attention grabbing. It would also mean that they would know me better than I would, and would have for months, if not years. What the hell had I done to get such attention? I wouldn't be just a "passing fad" then, would I? I shuddered. Maybe they did have the resources to grab all that info on a whim.

Regardless, judging by the silhouettes in my apartment window, the bastards had to know almost everything about me. I stood in the mouth of an alleyway, with the hood on my jacket up, looking at my third floor apartment window with a sort of grim humor. The shadows passed back and forth in front of the window, and they looked like they were moving stuff around. On top of that, the lights were on. Now, that just seemed insulting to my intelligence. I lived alone, surely they had to know that. I wondered how they had gotten in, before I had a realization and started to rifle through my own pockets. When my suspicions were confirmed, I walked away, laughing lightly, but a little crazily, and kneaded my hands through my hair.

I had lost my friggin' keys.

God... goddammit.

I hummed the tune for jingle that played in a local car dealership ad as I walked.

===+++===

Luckily for me (because my luck had become so bad that this could be considered good), there was plenty of construction going on around that time, and plenty of it had been forgotten about. The dead husks of the buildings were grim reminders about having eyes bigger than your stomach. I crawled through a broken window into a basement, checked around to make sure no one had gotten the same idea, and then curled up in the fetal position in a corner to sleep. I eventually got to the sleep, but I had plenty of nightmares to deal with first, most of them involving blue-eyed femme fatales hanging me on a torture rack while greedily slurping at my neck. In one of them, I thought I saw Evelyn, from way back when, standing in the corner, doing dishes for her family's restaurant, casting annoyed and disapproving looks at me over her shoulder from time to time. I tried to act tough, but I could only give her the most pathetic and apologetic of looks. She would only give me a scoff, and turn back to what she was doing, causing her wavy golden hair to sway. She always kept it so long. I just wanted to touch it, which seemed weird, even to me. I just wanted to hold her close and stroke her hair, let her rest. She always had so much to do, and she always put up with me. It wasn't fair. But I couldn't go to her, I was too busy being bled out.

I sat up with a start, ripping myself violently from my dreams, frantically wiping sweat off my face. I couldn't stop shivering. Winter didn't give a damn if I had no place to stay. I curled up again, and tried to think of something warm.

I stayed huddled there, awake, until dawn.