You are procrastinating going home to see your father. You use the excuse of being short on cash to visit a dive bar with what's left of your stash. You're sure you can turn a quick sale here. If not, you consider running back to the city. It's easier to waste your life there.
It didn't take long in NYC, given your particular set of skills, to get connected, get product, and get back in business. Business was good there. There were more people with more disposable income and demand for drugs with a higher price point, not typically sought in quiet rural towns. A void had been left after one of the last resident dealers blew all his earnings on his own bad habits and couldn't pay the piper. Lucky for you, there were a lot of people hungry for a fix when you rolled in. Catskill is a different animal. Mostly the way to get business is to create new business. You're on the prowl for someone pliable.
You notice you seem to have caught the attention of a blonde across the room. That's not what you're here for, so you pay her no mind at first. She's been idling around the bar, probably expecting someone to offer to buy her a drink eventually. As the evening wears on however, she grows more interested in what you have going on. She perks up especially when she catches sight of you interacting with an old customer, remembered from your high school days. When she finally succeeds in making eye contact with you, she smiles, raises her hand, and wiggles her fingers in a little wave.
A gaggle of drunken friends pass between you, blocking your line of sight briefly, and she's gone. She reappears a moment later, much closer and threading through the crowd in your direction. “Hey!” she shouts exuberantly over the music when she reaches you. Her voice is high pitched and has a childlike tonality. “I'm just tryna have a good time tonight. Can you show me a good time?” You assure her the affirmative, so long as she can pay for it. She asks, “Whatcha got?” Your answer is ambiguous. You can never be too cautious. “Well… then I guess I'll just have what you're having. You must know best, right? Come on!” Before you can reply or protest, she grabs your hand and pulls you towards the bathrooms. Cold hands. Odd, considering the place is hot and stuffy from too many sweating bodies packed into a small space with poor ventilation. Maybe she's nervous? Perfect. First timers are usually free, but you need the money.
You're led to the men's room and to the farthest stall. She shuts and latches the ill-fitted door and produces a several crisp folded bills from her expensive purse. She's overpaid you but you're a businessman, not a vending machine, so you don't give change. Consider it a tip for outstanding customer service. You go to hand her the goods but she quickly puts up her hands defensively. “Nuh-uh, you first! Gotta make sure you're not tryna slip me a roofie.” She laughs a school-girlish giggle. You've probably already had enough tonight for the both of you but you can't argue with her logic. After all, the customer is always right. She watches you intently, tense with excitement or anticipation… of what? “Are you feeling it yet?” she inquires. You nod hazily. She licks her lips, “Good…” and steps closer.
She presses against you, pushing you back against the wall of the stall. She's stronger than she looks. This is not what you were expecting and you try and recall if this is the first time you've gotten lucky in a public bathroom. Her lips move towards the side of your neck. You're shocked by a sudden flash of pain followed by a wave of euphoria and then… darkness.
You awaken later. You don't know how long you've been collapsed on the bathroom floor. Overdose? You don't appear to have vomited on yourself, that's good. Your head throbs. Maybe banged it on the way down? You remember the stabbing pain before the blackout too and so you reach up to your neck, expecting to have been cut, but find nothing but a smear of hot pink lipstick. You chalk it up to a bad hit and retire for the night on a friend's familiar couch.
The very next night you see her again. This time she's brought a brunette friends and makes a beeline for you as soon as she sees you. “Hey!” she shouts, “What happened to you last night? Didja roofie yourself by accident?” That playground laugh again. She prods the other girl forward, “This is my friend Evie.”
You see the brunette's lips move to correct her name to “Eve.” but her voice is too soft to actually be heard over the music.
You remark that you never actually got the blonde's name last night. It's Sophie. Sophie and Eve are an odd pair. Sophie is gorgeous but you peg her as the type who knows she's very attractive and doesn't try very hard at being anything else. She probably paid you with either a sugar daddy's or her actual daddy's money but you don't care where it comes from so long as it keeps coming to you. Eve is rather plain with an easily forgettable face. The sort of meek and mild person who floats through life mostly beneath others notice.
As expected, Sophie adds, “Evie and me, we just wanna have some fun tonight.” Of course they do and they have come to the right place as you happen to be in the business of fun. Sophie pays you for two “dealer's choice” even though you technically still owe her one. Oh well, her loss not yours. Eve offers an opinion you can't hear and only manage to lip read the word “outside.”
Sophie agrees, “Great idea! Let's pop outside a minute instead of that gross bathroom!”
You three slip out through a back door with a non-functioning alarm, still not fixed after all these years, into an alleyway behind the building. This would all be much less of a hassle if you could just palm the drugs to her like a normal addict and send her on her way. But, “No way!” she says. “What if what happened to you, happens to us? You first!” Whatever, if she's got this much money to burn and a wants to burn it every night you might be willing to jump through a few hoops to keep her coming. It's still early tonight so you're relatively sober. It takes some time before it takes effect, with Sophie watching you expectantly like a dog waiting for its dinner. When you let the girls know everything's good and fine and try to offer them their doses, Sophie lunges at you so forcefully the back of your head collides against the brick wall behind you.
You awaken, disoriented, somewhere else. You try to quickly evaluate your surroundings. You're lying on a chaise in the grand foyer of what must be one of the huge old Victorian-style homes in town, guessing by the elaborate decor. Too-bright light from a glittering chandelier stings your eyes. You suddenly feel the urge to be sick. Someone has left a trash can right beside you, presumably for that purpose, and you become violently ill into it. You purge until your throat is raw and your chest aches although there is a puzzling lack of the need to gasp for air between retching. The nausea is then replaced with profound sense of hunger. A terrible emptiness that pervades your entire being. You sit up and finally notice the woman sitting in a wingback armchair nearby, watching you impassively. “You're up.” she observes, with a hint of disappointment.
The woman is named Valerie. She's a posh-looking sort, much like the house. She's apparently here to give you “the talk.” Got news for you, kid. Vampires, werewolves, ghosts, faeries, all those things that go bump in the night are very real you now happen to be one of them. You weren't specially chosen for this, though. She goes on to explain describe how Sophie accidentally murdered you and Eve's bright idea to “fix it” was to raise you as one of the undead. Valerie makes it very clear she would much rather be hiding your dead body tonight. You're an incredibly annoying inconvenience but also the consequences of her lackluster performance at managing her charges, which makes you Valerie's problem. She's supposed to be acting as warden for these two, which is why she's effectively in exile in “the boonies” as she calls it. You're now added to the roster of inmates. Looks like you'll be staying in Catskill after all.
Your desperate hunger is subdued by the contents of a Red Cross donation bag but you spend the rest of the night in agony anyway. Your body is plagued by intense burning sensations as it finishes undergoing the processes of death. Its a relief when the sun starts to rise and you slip into a sort of stasis for the day.
You're turned over to Eve, though Valerie insists on supervising, to be taught the basics of how to function in as well as flex the abilities of our newfound state. Valerie takes over instruction on rules and regulations of vampire society. Sophie has lost any and all interest in you. Your only other interaction during this time is with an ever present werewolf by the name of Nelson. He offers to take you out on the town to get away from the girls for a while. A welcome distraction.