The vampire housemate stared at him with a really blank expression, standing in the kitchen doorway, as Shane dropped down on the couch, grabbed a handful of tissues out of the box, and started mopping at his mouth and nose.
“What?” he snapped. Michael shook his head. He was holding a beer in his hand. At least, Shane hoped it was a beer. It had a Budweiser label on it, anyway. “I had a fight.”
“No kidding. Looks bad.”
“Nah.” Ow. Shane probed at a sore spot in his jaw and felt a sickening creak in one of his teeth. Dammit. The only thing worse than hitting a doctor’s office in Morganville was suffering through dental work. Not exactly the best and the brightest setting up shop around here. He was convinced that the jerks had never even heard of novocaine.
Shane spat blood into the tissue, sniffed experimentally, and didn’t feel any telltale drippage. Not so bad. Maybe the worst was over.
Michael walked over, but not close. Not close enough to worry about, anyway. “What happened?”
Shane shrugged. “You know, the usual. Couple of vampires got hold of some girl, started dragging her off. Some of us got into it. No big thing. Nobody got hurt bad.”
“Was she Protected?”
“College girl, out partying in the wrong side of town. You know the type.”
Michael nodded and held out the beer. Shane stared at it, then him.
“Don’t be an asshole,” Michael said. “It’s not blood. And I didn’t even take a drink yet.”
Shane took it and drank. The beer burned in cuts, but it was a good kind of burn, and it washed the copper taste out of his mouth. He sat back with a sigh and closed his eyes. The room started making loops, so he opened them again. Really shouldn’t be drinking, on top of the drinking I already did. Yeah, there were a lot of things he shouldn’t be doing. Like living in the house with a vampire, for one thing. His dad would have—
His dad. There was a reason to drink. Shane toasted the absent ghost of Frank Collins, Major Douche Bag, and gulped down another mouthful.
Michael sat on the couch, but at the other end. Safe distance, like he knew Shane was still feeling raw about the whole bloodsucking issue. He picked up his guitar and started playing, some Coldplay song Shane half remembered. “Which girl?”
“What?”
“You know, the girl the vamps were trying to drag off. Who was she?”
Shane considered that, rolling the beer between his hands. “Didn’t know her. Why?”
Michael shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, I guess. She probably never even knew they were vamps. But, dude, you really need to do something about your hero complex one of these days.”
“It wasn’t just me. There were two other guys who jumped in.”
“But you started it.”
Oh man, Michael knew him way too well. “Kinda.” Shane tipped his head back and laughed, a little. It hurt. “C’mon, man, you would’ve jumped in, too. I know you. I’m not the only one riding around on a white horse.”
Michael studied Shane for a long moment, then said, “You are way too drunk, you know that?”
Shane choked and nearly did a spit take with the beer. “Uh . . . yeah. Not really my fault, though. I was playing poker. Bunch of college guys, easy money. Only they kept buying rounds. The more they lost, the more they bought. Don’t blame me. I made almost a thousand bucks tonight. And free beer.”
“And then you got into a fight with vampires, and walked home. Drunk and bleeding and carrying cash. In Morganville.” Michael’s face was still, and way too sober. “Man, you really do have a death wish. Why didn’t you call? I’d have—”
“I don’t need a bloodsucking babysitter,” Shane snapped, even though he knew Michael had a big frickin’ point. The beer made him feel hot and sick, but he forced down another mouthful. “Weren’t you supposed to be out with Eve, anyway? What are you doing here?”
Michael shrugged. “She had to go in to work,” he said. “I’m picking her up later. Claire’s at Myrnin’s lab. She ought to pay rent there instead of here, the time she spends doing his crap.”
That gave Shane a bad, even sicker twist in his stomach. “You don’t think he’s hitting on her, do you?”
“Myrnin?” Michael’s fingers went still on the guitar, and Shane got a flash of startled blue eyes. “Jesus. I think she’d have said something. Maybe not to you or me, but to Eve, for sure.”
“And Eve would tell you.”
Michael smiled. “If she thought Claire was in trouble, she’d tell us both.”
That made Shane feel a little better. Just a little. Because when your potential competition was some ancient, occasionally suave dude who dressed in velvet and still looked twentysomething, nothing could make you feel a lot better.
Speaking of looking better, Michael was wearing better stuff than usual, probably because he’d been planning on impressing Eve. Blue shirt, blue jeans. Diamond stud earring in his left ear. “Dude,” Shane said, distracted. “Can vamps get pierced?”
“What?”
“Your earring.”
“Don’t know.” Michael flicked his earlobe with one finger. “I did this last year. When I was still the old me.”
“I never noticed.”