Now, at this point, I’d only talked about Calista and Malachi because, when I first moved in, those were the only people who seemed to live here. However, when I went to find Charlie, I discovered I had a new neighbor two trailers over.

  He was standing outside, giving Charlie a pat on the head, and Charlie was lovin’ it.

  “Hey, you found my dog!” I said as I approached. Charlie looked at me and ran over.

  “Oh, you, huh?” the man asked.

  He was very much your typical dad type. Salmon polo, khaki shorts, white sneakers with white socks pulled up mid-shin—the works. His black hair was neatly combed to one side, and he sported what could only be described as a cop ’stache. He looked a little annoyed when he saw me.

  “Yeah, me,” I replied, both confused and offended as I knelt to give Charlie a good pet. “Do I know you?”

  “You probably don’t recognize me,” he said, “but maybe this will jog your memory?”

  He untucked his shirt, lifted it in the back, and turned around. There was a cross burned into his lower back, which somehow made things more confusing.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, standing up and flinging the Charlie ectoplasm off my hands, “but I don’t know anyone with a cross tramp stamp.”

  He huffed, tucked his shirt back in, and turned to face me. “It’s not a tramp stamp,” he said sharply. “It’s a burn. You burned me with that cross, remember?”

  Admittedly, it took me longer than it should have to put two and two together, but I got there eventually. Unfortunately, Orson beat me to it.

  “So you’re that bat that was living in the fridge.”

  “Indeed I am,” the man said. “The name’s Doug.”

  “Wait—you’re a vampire?” I asked, not bothering to check whether Malachi was around.

  “Yes, and you cost me a free pad. Now I actually have to pay to live here.”

  “You were freeloading,” I said. “What did you expect? And what were you doing in my fridge, anyway?”

  “Our fridge,” Orson corrected.

  “I’m the only one who uses it, so my fridge,” I replied.

  “Fine,” he said, then turned to Doug. “What were you doing in Amir’s fridge?”

  “Well,” Doug said, “the missus and I got divorced—about ten years ago. She does that every couple hundred years, so I usually just find a place to crash for a decade or two. She always comes back around. Ever since the kids left the nest, she’s been a little… well, I don’t want to say.”

  “Batty?” I asked with a smile.

  “That’s racist,” Doug replied. Then added, “I think.”

  “It did sound kind of racist,” Orson said. “But I’m not sure vampire is a race, per se.”

  “Sorry, my bad,” I said. “More importantly, you aren’t going to suck all my blood out, are you?”

  “Oh, gosh, no,” Doug said with a chuckle. “I do all my hunting out of town. Only a dummy eats where they poop. Tends to draw attention when people go missing.”

  “Huh. Never thought about that,” I said. “I guess I assumed vampires wore black and, I don’t know—leather or something.”

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  “Do you get all your information about vampires from movies?” Doug asked. “Because you’re coming off as pretty ignorant right now, young man.”

  “Sorry,” I said. I really was. Ignorance is a hell of a thing, but apologizing for it is pretty straightforward. “That said, I am curious how you’re outside in the daytime.”

  “Oh, well, this place might be a shithole, and I could afford better, but I don’t have to worry about the sun here. You know, being between two planes of existence and all.”

  “Wouldn’t that make the sun twice as… sunny?” I asked.

  “You’d think,” he said, “but no.”

  “Oh. So how long have you been alive? Vampires are immortal, right?”

  “That we are.” Doug tapped his chin and looked up. It’s weird how everyone looks up when they’re thinking, like they’re trying to peer into their own brain. “About a millennium.”

  “Doesn’t that get boring?” Orson asked. “I’m bored, and I’ve only been a ghost for—” He trailed off. “Well, shit. I keep forgetting I don’t remember. It feels like at least twenty years, based on what I’ve seen.”

  Doug smiled. “It does. But the missus keeps me guessing, which is the key to a good marriage. That, and communication. And getting divorced every couple of centuries.”

  “Well, Doug,” I said, “it was nice meeting you. Thanks for finding Charlie.”

  “Hey, he found me,” Doug replied. “Say, if you guys ever want to hang out—play some poker or something—I’m totally free. Like, anytime.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, with absolutely no intention of hanging out with a dad-core vampire named Doug. I mean, I don’t have friends, but I figured I could do better. Kind of a dick thought, in hindsight.

  Anyway, me, Charlie, and Orson headed back home. I plopped down on the couch and let Charlie hop up onto my stomach. He walked in a circle, then curled into a ball. I took a big breath and let out a satisfied sigh.

  This was the life I’d been looking for. People who saw me. A real job (sort of). A car. A pet.

  “Man, I’m so happy to have a car,” I said with my eyes closed.

  “Yeah, but we still need money,” Orson replied. “Rent ain’t gonna pay itself.”

  “Very true,” I said, doing my best not to let it kill the mood. This was the happiest I’d ever been. “If you want to stir up another job, be my guest.”

  “Why does it feel like I’m doing most of the work?” Orson asked. Fair question.

  I sat up, Charlie phasing through me and onto the cushion beside me. “I did handle the entire mimic situation on my own.”

  “Yeah, I suppose,” Orson said. “I guess I just thought this would be easier. Faster.”

  “I know exactly what you mean,” I said. Then a light bulb went off. “Oh! What if you possess someone? Can you possess someone? I bet we could charge out the ass for that.”

  “Huh. You know, I’ve never tried,” Orson said, grinning. “Yeah, let’s give it a shot. I’ll go find some poor chump.”

  “Before you go, could you look for a fancy neighborhood? There are a ton of big houses out in Gilbert. Lots of Mormons, too. The more religious, the better.”

  “Look at you, growing a prefrontal cortex,” Orson said. “Good thinking.”

  “I have my moments.” I imagine that’s how kids feel when their parents praise them. Mine rarely acknowledged me, so I wouldn’t really know.

  It is what it is.

  “Hey!” a voice shouted from the bedroom. “Get this thing away from me!”

  It was Greg. I could also hear Charlie growling. I hadn’t even noticed Charlie wander off. Orson and I went to see what the commotion was about.

  When I opened the closet, Charlie was trying his hardest to yank one of Greg’s bones loose—his shin, to be exact. Every time Greg shook him off, Charlie latched right back on.

  “This yours?!” Greg demanded. Furious—at least judging by his voice. Hard to tell without skin.

  “Yeah,” I said. “That’s Charlie. Charlie, this is Greg.”

  “Grim!” Greg snapped.

  “We’re not calling you that,” Orson said for both of us.

  “Whatever. Just get him off me.”

  “Come on, Charlie. Let him go, bud,” I said. And he did. Charlie really was a good boy. He growled at Greg, but honestly, so did Orson.

  “Well, I’m off to find us a payday,” Orson said.

  “Cool. Maybe take Charlie with you? He can run around being a nuisance while you do the possession thing.”

  “Yeah!” Greg yelled. “Get that mutt outta here!”

  He slammed the closet door shut.

  A moment later, Orson flew out of the trailer—and to my surprise, Charlie bolted after him.