Vampires do not fly coach.

When you're a vampire, the simple act of leaving town becomes a hugely monumental task, the kind of epic that Operas are written specifically for large busty women to sing. Tears would be shed, flowers thrown and blouses possibly ripped at the arias sung over this epic. It would inspire a standing ovation as every single person made an instant connection and understood, even if no one in the audience spoke a single word of Italian. When dealing with the act of traveling you don't even have to add any invading armies, tales of otherworldly betrayal or wailing harpies to make the epic that much more epic. All you have to do is start at point A and then try like hell to get to point B without burning yourself to a crisp... or if you're human, get to point B without passing through the rest of the alphabet on the way.

Since I was a vampire, I definitely wanted the not-crispy choice.

"Whose plan is this again?" Claude wanted to know.

"Well, part of it is Harry's. I've been trying to figure out why he wants me to drive instead of letting me fly, but I think I'm getting the idea now..."

"You know you can't fly commercial, right?" Claude was giving me that look again, the look that asked if I knew how much of an idiot I was.

I was stubborn, though. There had to be a way to follow Harry's plan without actually following it at all. Right? Maybe there was, but I couldn't see it. I shrugged at Claude. If he wanted to be Mister-Smart-Guy, then he could bloody well tell me.

"Why not?" I asked.

Seriously, go ahead and try. You already know how much difficulty you have as a human to book and board a flight even just an hour away, much less 6 hours away. Buffalo to New York City is not even 45 minutes, but by the time you add security stops, the long lines at the worst times of day and having to get to the airport at least 1 hour ahead of time, you end up spending six hours of your life for a 45-minute trip.

I'll tell you right now that modern air travel seems to have been designed to kill vampires or make it, so we're forever stuck to traveling in coffins in the cargo holds of the planes. You've no doubt seen the tropes however overly dramatic with the native soil and whatever other bullshit people want to throw in. You know, the one with the vampire having to travel by coffin. Do you know how heavy a coffin is? Throw in a body on top of that weight and you're already over most weight limits. By the time you add soil of any kind (and why the hell would you unless you're a massive freak of a vampire who likes to suffocate) that coffin is already pushing 600 pounds. This is highly impractical for most air travel, but yet we always have to see it in a movie as a clever way to explain that this traveler is a vampire. Not bloody likely.

"Why doesn't he just get a private jet for you and fly you down to Texas? It's not like he can't afford it." Claude was once again pointing out the obvious, which was a question I'd personally asked Harry when he outlined his plan on how I was supposed to lure my psycho sometime-ex-lover-sport-fuck-serial-killer-girlfriend Beatrice, away from the city.

"He wants me to make some stops and make some noise so that Beatrice leaves the city and comes after me instead."

"This plan blows. Why don't we hunt the bitch where she lives?"

"Nobody knows where or how to find her."

"And now you're the bait."

"Lucky me."

When most vampires choose to travel, they aren't even on the same plane as you. They're usually on a private plane with other vampires, a plane that has specially designed windows that allow no sunlight in when the plane inevitably crosses into the daytime hours. What? You think your average trust-fund kiddie vampire is going to be flying coach sitting next to your broke ass, trying very hard not to combust because some idiot just had to open his blinds? Not bloody likely. Even with the best of planning, with the way flights are delayed, turned around and generally fucked with in terms of staying on schedule, travel by airline is a statistical nightmare for any vampire.

Those who can't fly or just refuse to fly, they either take the train, or they drive.

Claude was taking his time examining the brand new BMW SUV that Harry had so generously donated to ease my trip. It was a fucking awesome car, the nicest one I have ever had the pleasure to be around or had ever driven. I was still formulating a plan to have sex in the backseat as soon as possible, but Claude was putting the kibosh on that in a major way. As sexy as the car was, Harry had provided it, and that didn't exactly fill Claude with much confidence given my abusive personal history with Harry. This was of course with Harry being the abusive one in the relationship.

Harry was one of the head vampires in the city, and he hated me on first sight. The fact that I was an accidental vampire was a huge part, but the main thing was that I was rude, insolent, a smartass with a perpetual foot-in-the-mouth disease, plus I had used his club to become my personal blood bank. Harry hated junkies, and I was born to be a junkie, so, of course, he hated me. I didn't fit in with his ideal vampire society not being one of the trust-fund kiddies, but then again I had the nerve to be an asshole... so yeah... that didn't work out too well for me.

Claude made up his mind and shook his head, and I instantly regretted not having had sex in the back of the car yet. Now it wasn't going to happen, and I was never going to get the chance.

"We cannot drive this car to Texas. It feels too much like a trap dude."

"Oh come on Claude! Seriously? I had plans for this car!"

"If there's one thing that I've become very good at over the past ten years, it's that I don't get caught. I'm an expert at spotting a trap."

"What about that time you were in that car chase? The one on CNN?"

"That doesn't count. Simple misunderstanding. I don't even have a record. Anyway, you're deflecting."

"Just saying dude."

"Bob, this is a fucking setup, and you need to be aware of it. This is a brand new fucking expensive car with tracking devices and a trunk-load of semi-automatic guns that you're supposed to drive over a two thousand miles to Texas. You're going to be crossing state lines, driving through stupid little hick towns with hick cops looking for any excuse to not be bored, and you think this is a good idea?"

Well, now that you put it that way...

"But it's a fucking Beamer dude!"

"I'm going to slap you because you really need it."

"I'll bite you."

"No, you won't."

Claude sighed deeply, but the thing is I already agreed with him. I just had to put up the token fight, after all: it was a fucking Beamer. Too much of what he said made sense but let's put it in a greater perspective—

"What's your last name, Bob?"

"Diego. So wha— oh. Ohhhhhh! Right. Okay, I got it now."

Wake up time people. Don't argue with me and try to tell me some bullshit about how you never experienced this so of course it doesn't exist. I'll have to come over and slap you stupid for being such a silly bitch so don't do it, okay?

The fact is that I'm Hispanic. A brown dude, looking like me driving such an expensive vehicle is a recipe to be pulled over on suspicion of being brown. Don't call me paranoid or say that I have racist leanings or that I go out expecting to be a victim and invite it to myself because that's all bullshit. The only place where people hadn't seemed to care about race, color or creed was in Harry's club where all vampires were welcome (as long as you paid your tab and didn't try to hog the bleeders). The cops look for certain types to pull over because they know that they will find evidence of something or they will make something up, but there would be no way for me to drive through all of those states, most of them in the deep South without getting pulled over at least once.

Harry had mostly made me a huge target.

I really hoped it hadn't been on purpose.

I looked at the car with deep regret. "So what now? What's plan B?"

Claude was already dialing on his phone. I idly thumbed the brand new iPhone I had bought earlier in the evening and wondered if I should tell Claude about the $20,000 in unmarked bills Harry had given me. I had plans for that cash as well and didn't want to lose it so early on.

"How long have you been back on the blood?"

That one caught me by surprise.

"It's not like before. This time, it was only me and Beatrice. Vampire on vampire action."

"Her idea?"

"You don't say 'no' to Beatrice."

"So no tattooed sluts for you recently? We're not going to have a problem on the road with you right?"

"I swear. I can control myself. I don't think I even like blood that much anymore, anyway."

"You're protesting a tad bit too much."

"You're annoying me."

"Doing my job dude. Twenty years kinda buys me that right."

He was right too, but you know what? He had been missing for the past two months, hadn't picked up my calls when I most needed him if only to keep me sane, to give me a reality check away from Beatrice. I had been a dark time for me, and I was still deep in that dark place, and he hadn't been there. I know some things you have to go through alone to appreciate and grow as a person, but for fucks sake, he could have picked up the phone.

I don't know if he saw some of that in my eyes, but he looked away with a wry smile and for a moment, I forgot to be angry. What had happened to my friend anyway? He was usually the confident, strong one, the real brains of the operation, unshakeable and indefatigable. Did something change?

Claude nodded. "Let me make some calls; then we can figure out what our next move is going to be."

I watched him walk away, talking to one of his criminal associates and thought about the one place I wanted to go. There was only one person I was aching to see... even if it was only going to be through the window from across the street.

I'd been thinking a lot about Jaime recently, but then again, was there ever a time when I wasn't thinking about her?

I shook it off and leaned solemnly against my brand new car that was no doubt soon going to go bye-bye.

See? This is why I can't have nice things.

"Does this thing have GPS?" Claude walked swiftly back to the car, and I hesitated.

"Of course, it does. Why?"

"I'm driving, so pass the keys."

"But I even got a new suit. Can't I drive this last time?"

"Yeah... No. You're gonna attract more attention like that where we're going."

I passed him the keys, cussing all the way. I know lots of cuss words and I was planning to use each and everyone to describe Claude to himself,

"And where are we going?"

"To do some crime!"

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AUTHOR'S NOTE
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