Vampires Dont Wait Tables

This is a sweet and slightly dark coming-of-age story about a boy with a very special girlfriend. Be warned that it is a slow burn, with very little sex and all of it vanilla. Also, there are a few paragraphs of graphic gore near the climax.

Would you really notice if someone didn't cast a shadow? If their ears were a little too pointy, their teeth a few too many, their hands a touch too cold?

I do. I notice everything.

People don't realize that about me. They look at me and all they see is a short Chinese kid with thick glasses and acne.

And then they start in on the name. "What kind of name is Jemmy? Well, if it's supposed to sound like Jimmy, then why's it spelled with an E?"

Because English was my mother's fourth language and the only one written with an alphabet.

Hong doesn't give me that shit, though. Hong is cool. Today she comes in with egg tarts for everyone, shouting greetings in Mandarin and Canto and English. "Grandpa! Have an egg tart. They're fresh."

Grandpa is how she addresses old Mr. Ma, the evening cook. He shouts disapprovingly at her in Cantonese, but takes an egg tart anyway. Then he hustles out. He has a long ride home, all the way out to Nassau County. At least he has the e-bike now. It's a lot better than waiting for the bus.

"Hey, Jemmy! Egg tart?"

"Thanks, Hong." I take one and bite into it. It really is fresh. The pastry shell is still crisp and flaky, not yet waterlogged from the rich, creamy filling. "What was Mr. Ma going on about?"

"Offered to get me some for free from his cousin's bakery so I wouldn't have to waste my money. You find any more monsters?" she asks me, grinning. She's making fun of me, but not in a mean way.

"Nah, quiet night." Actually, I'm pretty sure the girl across from me on the bus coming in didn't have a reflection, but it was crowded so I couldn't be sure. "You?"

"I keep telling you, they hide from me. You know they're all scared of vampires. We're, like, apex predators."

"Right, right," I answer, playing along. Or, letting her play along? I don't even know who's leading this joke anymore. It's a collaboration by now. Like I said, Hong is cool.

"I don't know why you encourage him like that," Rui muttered. "Boy needs to get his head on straight."

Rui is not cool. I don't know why she's calling me "boy" either. She's older than me, but only by a couple of years. I pretend I don't hear her, as she pretends she didn't mean for me to hear. I have to check my station anyway, make sure the prep didn't short my mise.

Have you ever wondered how you get your takeout in ten to fifteen minutes, no matter what you order? It's called mise en place. All my ingredients are washed, cut, and marinated before I even walk in the door. Each shift preps for the next.

Or it should. Overnight gets shorted a lot, because dinner's so busy. Next thing you know, someone's calling in a delivery order for thirty and a dozen potheads are lining up outside.

I'm good tonight, which means it's mostly a quiet shift. A bunch of delivery, but they trickle in slowly. A few drunks, a few nurses and paramedics and cops. Good for me. I have time to screw around on my phone between orders. Bad for Hong. She gets tips, or she would if people ate in.

"Hey, Hong, how come you work here?" I ask during one of the lulls.

Hong's nursing her ever-present thermos of tea in one hand and reading a thick paperback. She glances up, then rubs her fingers together. "Why does anyone work here?"

"I mean, you could work someplace better." I don't usually get to see her at her best, because when she gets busy I do too, but I know she's way too good to be wasting her time on the overnight shift in some hole in the wall like the Jade Palace. She should be doing banquet halls at least, maybe even fine dining at a Western place.

"I can only work overnights. Cuts down on my options."

"You in school or something?"

"Nah, can't leave the house until after dark, or I get sunburned." She grins and winks.

"Right, right." Okay, so it's none of my business. I can take a hint.

"How about you? Gonna trade up soon?"

"I guess I should." This is the first I've thought about it, but she's right. I've been here a year already. That's a long time in this business. "I was just getting comfortable here."

"How old are you, Jemmy? It's not time for you to get comfortable yet."

"You're right." It's times like this that I remember she's at least a decade older than me, closer to my mother's age than mine. She doesn't look it. With no make-up and her long, glossy black hair pulled back into a simple ponytail, she could pass for her twenties. Her face is full and unwrinkled, her body trim under the baggy pants, sweater, and puffy vest.

I realize I'm staring and hurriedly check my phone instead. It's time to get started on prep for the lunch shift.

Tonight Hong grabs a knife too. "What are we doing, chef?"

I'm always happy when she helps, but I try to be polite. "You don't have to do that."

"I'm bored."

"What if people come in?"

"Give me the vegetables. I won't even have to wash my hands."

"There's not that much today."

"So what's first?"

She's offered three times. I accept the inevitable. "Okay. You want onions or peppers?"

"Both. You have to do all the meat." She rips through a case of peppers in no time at all, her knife ringing out against the cutting board in machine-gun bursts. Between the two of us, we make short work of the prep. We sit behind the counter afterward, chatting.

I don't really know why Hong wants near-daily updates on people she's never met, but she always asks about my family. I guess it's a thing to talk about. So I tell her about my cousins' grades (getting better) and my grandpa's back (getting worse) and my sister's boss (still awful).

When that runs out, I ask, "You doing anything after work?"

"Hurry home and sleep."

"Okay, before work tomorrow?"

"Pick up a cute guy, suck his dick."

My eyes bug out. Hong does not talk like that.

"Don't look so shocked," she admonishes me with a sly smile. "I'm only going to take a pint or so. He'll be fine. A vampire has to eat, right?"

"Right, right!" She must have said she was going to suck his blood. I flush and hope she doesn't notice. She has a little smirk now. I'm pretty sure she's noticed, but at least she has no idea why.

Who am I kidding? She said she was going to pick up a guy and suck something of his. Then the obviously virginal guy freaked out. It doesn't take a genius to connect those dots.

I'm saved by a customer. He bangs the door open, eyes bloodshot and suit rumpled. I can smell the alcohol from here. He's probably been entertaining clients all night. We get his kind sometimes.

"Speak any English?" He's speaking extra slowly and loudly, and over-enunciating.

We get that kind sometimes too.

I roll my eyes but Hong flashes me a mischievous look before she turns to him. Putting on a thick accent, she says, "Little bit. Just one?"

"What's your name, honey?" He openly leers at her.

"Scarlet." She pronounces it "scah-let," as if she has trouble with R's.

"How the hell does a girl like you get a name like that?"

"Communists." She shrugs, as if that makes any sense. It doesn't really. She's probably making a joke about the proliferation of babies named Hong after the revolution, because it means red and that's their color. But she's way too young for that, and I'm pretty sure her name isn't the right character.

"What I get you today, sir?" she asks.

He looks the menu over, then tosses it aside. "How about a pu-pu platter?"

Hong glances at me. That's not technically on the menu, but all the components are. I nod.

"I charge you for every thing like you order separately," she warns him.

"I get a per diem. Use it or lose it."

Great. I'd make him every appetizer on the menu, she'd charge him full price, I'd plate one piece of each, and we'd split the rest to take home. I head back into the kitchen, eager to get started.

From behind me, I hear him ask, "Hey, why don't you sit down a minute? I'll buy you a drink."

I don't know what kind of drink he thinks he's going to buy her. Tea? Soda? It's not like we serve alcohol here. Besides, he has no idea who he's dealing with. I've seen Hong handle an entire stag party by herself. They were competing to tip her by the time she brought the check.

I drop wings, egg rolls, wontons, and crab rangoon into the fryer, then fire up two woks, one with oil and the other with water. Fifteen minutes later, I'm saucing and plating his pu-pu platter. I put it on the counter, but Hong's not there.

She's perched on the edge of his table. His hand is on her knee. Somehow, her vest and the sweater underneath have both fallen open. Underneath, she's actually wearing a rather tight blouse that shows a bit of cleavage. It's an effort to look away.

An effort that the asshole does not make. He speaks directly to her boobs. Whatever he said elicits a vacuous giggle.

Look, Hong's pretty, okay? I'm not blind. Or dumb. Hong's way out of my league. I figured that out about five minutes after the first time I met her. This isn't jealousy.

I just...didn't take her for the kind of girl who'd let a guy like that chat her up. I mean, really?

I tear my eyes off the disgusting sight in front of me. This is none of my business. She can do whatever she wants with whoever she wants. Besides, she probably needs the tip.

I straighten my clothes. The place is dead. I'll run the platter out to her.

"Thanks, Jemmy," she coos when I get to their table. She picks up one of the egg rolls and bites into it, then pants theatrically around the big doughy cylinder now between her lips. "Ooh, hot!"

I retreat to the kitchen and sit with my back to them, playing with my phone. It's almost quitting time. Hong usually helps me close and then we walk to the bus stop together, but I have a feeling that's not happening today.

Indeed, when I go out to tell them I'm closing the kitchen, Hong just waves me off. I do all my closing work myself, then go out and do her work, setting the chairs up on the tables with more force than necessary.

They ignore me. He's showing her something on his phone now and she's whispering into his ear. He flushes. She giggles. It's not exactly the airhead act she was doing earlier. This sounds more real. There's a hungry edge to it now.

It's almost worse, to see her maybe genuinely getting something out of talking to this guy.

Finally, I've swept and mopped all around them. Theirs is the only table with the chairs still on the floor.

"Time to go," I tell the asshole.

"Oh, no problem," Hong says. "I lock up. Have good night, Jemmy!"

"Yeah, have a good night, Jemmy!" he echoes, grinning smugly.

Ignoring him, I look at Hong. She winks, for a moment looking sly and mischievous, like the girl I know.

"Okay, see you tomorrow, um, Scarlet."

She mouths her thanks before putting her smile back on. I lock the front door and let myself out the back, taking all the leftovers with me.

I brood on the bus, wishing I could take off my mask and eat an egg roll. Can't be too careful nowadays, though, especially with my shitty health insurance. The bus is crowded with early morning commuters.

One of them has eerie eyes, one green and the other half green and half grey. I briefly wonder what she might be, but my heart's not in it today. It's probably nothing but sectoral heterochromia. I put her out of my mind.

It's just barely starting to get light when I get off at my stop. We have a nominally two-family house that's been cut up into a maze of little rooms inside, for my sister and her husband and their two kids, my aunt and her husband and their two kids, and my uncle, and my grandparents.

My parents are working in a restaurant in the 513 area code. That's how they talk about these jobs, by the area code. 513 is somewhere in Ohio, a full day away by bus. They only come home for holidays. At least they've found a place that can take both of them this time. They don't always manage to do that.

I eat a little on my way from the bus stop, but give most of the food to my aunt for her kids. My grandparents are puttering around, so I say hello to them. Then I wash up and climb into the attic.

The ceiling is so low I can only stand in a narrow strip in the center, but it's a spacious room, running the entire length of the house, with a window on each end for ventilation. Right now I've got both closed and covered with aluminum foil. Once I pull the ladder up, the room is pitch black. I crawl into my hammock and pass out.

I feel better when I wake up. I go through my usual routine: eat, pick up my nephews from school, help them with their homework while I cook. My cousins are in middle school, old enough to take care of themselves.

People drift in and out as their schedules allow. I usually end up eating my lunch, their dinner, with my sister or my grandparents. Other people will reheat stuff later.

It's cozy, even if my cousins are going through a monosyllabic phase and my nephews currently hate each other with a fury only elementary-age twins can muster.

I usually have time for a couple hours of internet before work. I frequent a few forums and discords. Some are for games. My laptop can't really handle them, but sometimes I watch streamers.

Most, though, are for cryptids. Someone thinks they've photographed a chupacabra in New Jersey of all places, and someone else thinks there's a vampire dumping bodies off Coney Island. I join the chorus of replies advising them not to inquire too deeply into that. The vampires in question are more likely to be Russian than Transylvanian.

The problem with cryptozoologists is the number of cranks it attracts. People who hear hoofbeats and think zebras. Or Jersey devils, as the case may be.

Eventually it's time to go to work. I'm worried it'll be awkward, but Hong isn't even there. She called to say she'd be late. Rui got stuck covering her shift until she shows up, which makes Rui even less pleasant than usual. I try to stay out of her way.

Hong shows up around one, carrying a big garbage bag over one shoulder. She apologizes profusely to Rui, who storms off muttering about how much Hong owes her. As if Rui never misses a shift.

Of course, that's exactly when things get busy. Someone calls in a massive delivery order. A party of sixteen walk in. Between one thing and another, we don't get much of a chance to talk until closing.

"Hey, Jemmy, this is for you."

I take it without thinking, before I realize it's a twenty. "What's this for?"

"Closing for me yesterday."

I push it back at her. "How many times have you helped me with prep?"

"Take it, take it." She leans in, so close I can smell her shampoo. Her eyes dance. "That guy gave me five hundred dollars."

"What?" I yelp. A horrible thought occurs to me. Surely Hong wouldn't...?

"Ai ya!" She jostles my elbow with hers. "Don't look at me like that. What do you take me for? I didn't touch him. He's, ah, got special interests."

"What does that mean?"

"You know how some guys are." She smirks knowingly, elbowing me again.

I blush. "I, uh, don't, actually."

"Oh." She bites her lip, trying to figure out how to say this. "They like...not exactly sex. Shoes, or rubber gloves, or being tied up and spanked."

"Dominatrix stuff." It doesn't make any sense to me, but I've seen videos.

"Yeah, like that." She nods, obviously relieved that she doesn't have to explain kinky sex to me.

I don't want to be creepy, but I'm burning with curiosity. "How did you figure this out?"

"He unlocked his phone to ask for my number and I saw the text messages on his screen. He was going to send money to some stranger on the internet so she would buy herself some shoes and send him photos of herself wearing them."

"You're kidding me! A total stranger?"

"He told me he found her on some website," Hong confirms. "Never met her. Never planned to meet her. Just wanted the pictures."

"Like personalized porn."

"Yeah. So I told him if all he wanted was some pictures, he could take them himself."

"And then he gave you five hundred dollars?"

Hong grins. "No."

"Oh, come on, don't be coy." I'm growing bolder. She doesn't seem to mind talking about this and it's a crazy story. I want to hear the whole thing.

"First, he picked me up after he got off work and took me shopping. Bought me a whole outfit. Shoes, dress, even underwear. Next, dinner. Some steakhouse. After that, he took me back to his hotel room."

"Hang on, you said you never touched him."

"I didn't. All he wanted to do was take his photos. Considering the underwear he bought me, I thought he'd at least want me to take my clothes off. I don't think he even got an upskirt shot. He liked to pose me sitting with my legs crossed." She demonstrates, bobbing one foot in the air, then shakes her hand in bemusement. "Of course, eventually, he pulled out his cock."

"Ah-ha!" I jump up and point accusingly at her.

"He jacked off onto my feet."

I freeze. "What?"

"Stop pointing at me like that. You look ridiculous. I said, he jacked off onto my feet. Took a bunch of pictures of that too."

"He jacked off onto your feet?"

Hong is grinning ear-to-ear. "How many times are you going to make me say it? You like hearing it or something?"

"One more time."

"He jacked off onto my feet."

"And then he gave you five hundred dollars?"

"And then he gave me five hundred dollars."

I stare at her for a long time. Then I chuckle. "Okay, Hong, you had me. That was hilarious."

"You saying I made it up?"

"I'm saying pics or it didn't happen."

Hong won't have pics. She has a dumb phone and it doesn't do anything except calls and texts. I don't think she even knows how to use a computer. She makes me show her step by step, over and over, any time the POS system changes.

"How about if I show you the shoes?"

"Bullshit. You have them here?"

"I came right from his hotel. Why do you think I was late?" She gets her garbage bag out of the closet and pulls out another bag from inside it. It's a paper bag with handles, like they give you if you shop at fancy stores.

In the bag is a shoebox. In the shoebox is a pair of glossy black shoes with red soles and the highest heels I've ever seen. I pick one up and turn it this way and that in my hands. I have no words.

"Go on. Call me a liar again." Hong crosses her arms, smiling smugly.

Still holding the shoe in one hand, I check the bag with the other. The receipt is in there. It shows the price. I'm holding more than a week's pay in my hand.

I nearly drop the shoe in shock, but I manage to catch it before it hits the wet tiles underfoot. I lose the receipt in the process.

Hong snatches it out of the air, laughing. "Now you believe me?"

"This makes no sense." I cradle the shoe like a child, afraid I'll get fingerprints on it if I use my hands.

"You remember I said he jacked off onto my feet, right?" Hong nods at the shoe.

It takes me a moment to figure out what she means. Then I nearly drop the shoe again. Giggling, she takes it back and carefully packs it away.

"This makes no sense," I repeat. "You said he got you a dress too? And dinner? How much do you think he spent on you, total?"

"Probably three thousand dollars. I didn't see the bill at the restaurant but I remember the prices on the menu." She clicks her tongue in disappointment. "Wouldn't have minded getting a little more of that in cash. What am I going to do with a designer cocktail dress?"

None of this makes any sense at all. "He was wandering around Queens with three thousand dollars in his pocket and he decided to blow it all on a night with you of all people?"

She raises her eyebrows. I play my words back in my head and realize what I just said. "I mean, not that you're not worth that. If I had three thousand dollars to spare I'd take you on a date in a heartbeat..."