Evil Red

  Aurora Sky

  Vampire Hunter

  Vol. 2.6, Evil Red

  By Nikki Jefford

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or the author has used them fictitiously.

  Copyright © 2014 Nikki Jefford

  Smashwords Edition

  All rights reserved

  www.NikkiJefford.com

  Cover designed by © Najla Qamber Designs

  FOR THE GINGER PIMPS

  ACT I

  The trouble with sharing a double-wide trailer with four sisters and a drunk mother was everyone always got into Valerie’s things.

  Last weekend, she’d found a scuff mark on her black heels. Tonight, her favorite tube of red lipstick disappeared from her oversized makeup bag.

  If those skanks wanted to wear nice stuff, they should steal their own shit.

  Valerie decided to blame Laura even though her younger sister had never shown interest in boys, fashion, or makeup. Obviously the girl had been switched at birth or her father was an even bigger loser than Valerie’s. Still, Laura was seen with red lips the shade of Catfight at the beginning of the week. At the time, Valerie assumed she’d finished sucking a lollypop.

  Valerie set her makeup bag on top of the toilet and leaned into the mirror with her angry face. Damn, she looked fierce. She practiced a variety of expressions every day for when her time came to audition for the silver screen. First she had to graduate from high school. Next stop, Hollywood.

  Now to make better use of her death glare by directing it at Laura. Valerie had to take deliberate steps down the cramped hallway in her micro-mini skirt. If it had been any tighter, she would be hopping down the hall rather than walking.

  Valerie threw open the door of their shared bedroom. Laura gave a start from her corner, where she sat on top of her quilted bedspread with a magazine and pen. Probably taking a quiz.

  Am I a loser? A. Most definitely yes.

  “Where is my lipstick?” Valerie demanded.

  Laura scowled. “What lipstick?”

  “Catfight from Urban Decay. I saw you wearing it earlier in the week.”

  “No I didn’t.”

  Their eyes locked.

  Laura waved a hand in the air. “Look, I don’t know where your stupid lipstick is. You have like a gazillion. Why don’t you wear something else?”

  “Because, I want Catfight,” Valerie said, advancing on her sister with each word. She made it to the edge of Laura’s bed and snatched her sister’s magazine from her lap.

  “Hey!” Laura cried, reaching for her latest issue of Seventeen.

  Valerie held it up high. Even without heels, she was three inches taller than Laura. She took a step back and lowered the magazine to see what her sister had been reading. A quiz. How predictable.

  “Does your crush know you exist?” Valerie read aloud. “So that’s why you stole my lipstick.”

  “I didn’t steal it, I borrowed it, and put it right back. Ask Janice. She’s the one always getting into your things. How come you never harass her?”

  There was no fighting with Janice. Because she’d been born first, she had it in her head that she knew better than anyone. Janice didn’t even bother lying. She’d end up telling Valerie that she’d buy her a new one… then never do it.

  Chances were much better with Laura.

  “You owe me a tube of lipstick.”

  Laura’s lip folded over. “I only used it once.”

  “You used it, you owe me. I better see twenty-four dollars on my nightstand by the end of the weekend.”

  “You’re such a bitch,” Laura grumbled. “I want my magazine back.”

  Valerie glanced at the open page before shooting her sister a wicked grin. “Don’t bother with the quiz. I already have the answer for you and it’s ‘no’. Whatever guy you’re all hot for doesn’t know you exist and never will.”

  Laura’s face contorted in rage right before she screamed. “Get out!”

  “Twenty-four dollars by Sunday,” Valerie said before tossing the magazine at her.

  Valerie inched her way back to the bathroom and dug around her makeup bag until she found an acceptable substitute. As she puckered her lips, she caught her youngest sister, Ali, watching from the hallway.

  “You look beautiful, Val.”

  Okay, so that one was sweet.

  Valerie fluffed out her thick ginger locks and smiled. “Thank you, Ali Bear. Come here, I have something for you.”

  Ali stepped into the bathroom as Valerie dug around her bag until finding what she was looking for—pink lip shine still in the box. Valerie watched her sister out of the corner of her eyes as she took the lip shine out. She crouched down to unscrew the top and pull out the lip brush, showing Ali it was like nail polish for the lips.

  “This stuff stays on all day,” Valerie said.

  Ali held both hands out. “Thank you, Valerie!”

  As Ali retreated into the hall with her gift, Valerie called out, “That’s just for you. No sharing with your sisters.”

  A car horn blasted through the trailer’s shell, followed by an audible sigh from the adjacent room—Laura’s trademark huff.

  “Val, your flavor of the month’s here,” Lyndsey called from the living room.

  Valerie checked her lips in the mirror. What they needed was some extra shine. Valerie dipped into her bag.

  The horn blasted again.

  “Val!”

  Valerie took a closer look at her cheekbones and decided to add a dab more rouge. Todd was going to have to learn that the more times he honked, the longer he waited. The only reason he’d passed his first screening was because he looked like a young Vin Diesel and owned a Volkswagen Eos with a retractable hardtop. It wasn’t a Jag, but Valerie always had her eyes open.

  She grabbed her oversized canary yellow purse and proceeded down the hallway to the closed-in living space. Mom was passed out on the faded green recliner, a cigarette still smoldering in the ashtray at her side. With the way her head drooped back at a crooked angle, her mouth hanging open, she looked dead.

  Janice, the oldest, sat strategically on top of her boyfriend’s lap. He massaged her shoulders gently. They were saving up for their own place, as Janice was fond of reminding everyone. That was the only reason they were still graced with her presence.

  Nothing would give Valerie greater pleasure than to leave before Janice. It was hard to tweak the queen bee, but if Val made it out first, that would have to sting.

  Valerie smiled to herself as she made for the door.

  “You got protection?” Janice asked in her “I’m the adult here” voice.

  Valerie reached inside her purse and pulled out a Smith and Wesson revolver. Best breakup gift ever. Not that John had given it to her, but he taught her to use it at the firing range. That had been a memorable date. Better than sex.

  “I meant condoms,” Janice said, rolling her eyes at the gun as though it were nothing more dangerous than a hairbrush. “Unless you want to end up with a trailer full of brats you’ll make him use protection.”

  Nice try, Janice. Once she graduated from high school, the only double-wide Valerie would ever step foot in would be her personal makeup and costume trailer on a movie set. That plan did not involve rug rats.

  Valerie huffed. “I wasn’t born yesterday. No glove, no love.”

  “Just checking.”

  More like showing off for her boyfriend.

  “Just worry about yourself, Janice,” Valerie said as she slipped out before her sister had a chance to respond.

  Outside, Todd had his music blaring, tapping his steering wheel, rocking back and forth while jutting his chin forward. He was Valerie’s first blonde and the tallest dude she’d ever dated. Usually she enjoyed looking at his face, except for now when he wore the petulant look of an over-privileged boy not used to waiting for anything. Well, Valerie wasn’t used to being summoned by a car horn so that made two of them with lowered expectations.

  When Valerie closed the trailer door, Todd glanced over. One look at her long naked legs put a grin back on his face. Boys were nothing if not predictable. Still, he didn’t bother getting out of the car to open Valerie’s door for her.

  This flavor was starting to sour.

  Valerie opened the passenger door with deliberate care before easing into the seat with all the regality of a princess… if princesses wore miniskirts, halter tops, and three layers of makeup.

  Todd put a hand on her bare thigh and leaned over to kiss her with tongue.

  “Hey, babe. Where to?” he asked when he pulled back.

  Valerie fluffed her hair back. “Club Hell.”

  CUT TO:

  EXT. DOWNTOWN L.A. CLUB—NIGHT

  Club Hell was an under twenty-one club in downtown L.A. where Valerie met up with Babette, her BFF, on weekends. It’s where Val had all her dates take her.

  After fussing at the valet about being careful with his car, Todd followed Valerie into Club Hell.

  The music pounded against the walls with fist-like force. Todd stopped to watch three heavy-set bouncers break up a fight between two white guys.

  Valerie looked over her shoulder. “Todd!”

  “Just a minute.”

  If he wanted to stand around gawking then he could come find her when he was through. Valerie passed the booths, which were all taken, and headed to the bar. All of the bartenders at Club Hell were dressed like devils with little red horned headbands. The waitresses wore sequined headbands and were
dressed as sexy She Devils. The club was wicked cool and had a killer DJ.

  Valerie moved in on a tall round table with stools as the occupants gathered their purses to leave. With a quick push, Valerie hoisted herself onto one of the stools. She dug out her compact mirror and checked her makeup. The club didn’t have the best lighting, but enough to see her mascara hadn’t smudged.

  Valerie snapped the mirror shut after she heard a familiar voice say, “there’s my girl.”

  She grinned and turned on the stool, air kissing Babette on the cheeks.

  “Hey, chick.”

  “Yo, baby blue,” Babette answered, using her pet name for Valerie. Babette once dated an Australian who told her they liked to nickname their things using opposites. For example, he’d called his little red truck “Big Blue.”

  Babette loved the concept and had dubbed Val “baby blue” ever since.

  Valerie didn’t have an internationally inspired nickname for her friend. She was “Babs” and always would be.

  Babs was slightly overweight, but that didn’t stop her from wearing tight dresses with plunging necklines. She had crazy brown curls and wore flashy jewelry—the bigger the better. Tonight, it was a braided three-tone metal necklace, chunky hooped earrings, and a cuff bracelet as wide as a manacle.

  “You look bitching,” Valerie said.

  Babette tossed her curls around. “Thanks.”

  Todd strode over and placed a hand on Valerie’s leg.

  “Oh man, you should have seen that,” he said. “One of the guys wouldn’t let up so the bouncer wrestled him to the ground—had him pinned to the floor.”

  Who said Valerie didn’t know how to show a guy a good time? She wasn’t the kind of girl who walked around the mall holding hands with her date, sharing fries in the food court. Life was meant to be lived on the wild side.

  “Who’s this?” Babette asked, ogling Todd.

  “Babette, Todd. Todd, Babette.”

  “Hey,” Todd said, lifting his chin.

  “Hey, yourself,” Babette said in a flirtatious voice.

  “I’ll get us some drinks,” Todd said.

  “I want a Red Bull,” Valerie said, twisting her hair in her finger. “Babs likes piña coladas.”

  First Todd had to push his way through the dance space between the tables and bar.

  “Hurry back,” Babette called after him, giving his butt a lingering look.

  “Careful, Babs,” Valerie said, though she couldn’t care less how long her friend stared at her date’s ass. Tonight, that ass belonged to her. Let the other girls admire it so long as they kept their hands off.

  “He’s hot.”

  “He’s okay for now.”

  “Uh-oh, trouble in paradise?” Babette lifted her perfectly plucked brows up and down.

  “More like all bod, no brains.”

  “Just the way you like them.”

  Valerie and Babette burst out laughing. No argument there.

  Babs smacked Valerie a second later. “Some guy’s checking you out at nine o’clock.”

  “Who?”

  “Man in the blue bandana.”

  Valerie took the straightforward approach and stared directly at Mr. Nine O’Clock. He had cold eyes and dark scruff on his face. She estimated his age at around thirty. Old men weren’t Val’s thing. Plus the blue bandana tied around his forehead was far from fashionable.

  Valerie snorted. “What is he, in a gang?”

  “I think he’s hot.”

  “Then why don’t you flash him your tits?”

  “Maybe I will.”

  Todd returned with the drinks, setting Babette’s piña colada in front of Valerie and the Red Bull by Babette. Babette’s brows rose when she looked across the table at Valerie. Like Val said, all bod, no brains. She switched the drinks.

  Todd leaned against the table and tapped his foot to the music.

  Valerie drank her Red Bull down quick. She didn’t like sitting for too long.

  “Let’s dance.”

  “We just got here,” Todd said.

  “Well, I want to dance.”

  “I’ll dance with you,” Babette said.

  Todd planted his lazy ass on one of the stools. “Cool, I’ll hold our table.”

  Who cared about a table? They could always get another one or, better yet, dance the night away.

  “Stay if you want,” Valerie said. “But I need to move my body.”

  Babette followed closely behind her. They started out dancing side by side then proceeded to rub against each other. Valerie would show Todd exactly what he was missing. When she started grinding against her friend, Babette giggled.

  “Oh, you’re bad.”

  “I wish I was a lesbian,” Valerie said. “Women are way more adventurous than guys.”

  Babette stuck her chin out and flexed her arms. “If I had a cock I’d do you.”

  “I know you would, Babs.”

  They danced until Babette announced she needed to use the little girl’s room.

  Valerie tossed her hand in Todd’s direction. “Look at him still sitting there on his ass. I bet he sits there all night.”

  Babette looked over her shoulder. “You coming?”

  “I need a smoke.”

  “Okay, see you back at the table?”

  “Sure.”

  Valerie strode over to Todd and grabbed her purse off the stool.

  “Where are you going?” Todd asked.

  Valerie didn’t stop to answer, calling out, “smoke,” as she turned on her heel and headed to the club’s entrance. As she passed tables, she noticed Bandana Man staring at her like he’d never taken his eyes off her since her arrival. Valerie glared at him. Creep. There was definitely something wrong with an older man hanging out in an under twenty-one club. She pushed past a group of guys by the front entrance.

  The warm night air felt good on Valerie’s clammy skin. Val lit a cigarette, inhaling and exhaling steadily as she stared at the surrounding buildings.

  She had to tell a couple of guys to get lost when they attempted to hit on her. Smoking in peace in front of the club’s entrance was nearly impossible.

  Valerie moved to the far corner and lit up a second cigarette. Turning her back to the street, she looked down one sidewalk and then the other. The walkway to her left was deserted. From that angle the cityscape looked even more striking. Valerie loved being around buildings the way naturalists loved being around trees.

  The weight of the Smith and Wesson tugging at the bottom of her purse made her feel invincible. She stepped around the corner, taking it all in as she finished her smoke.

  There it was—her nicotine rush. Val felt ready to dance another three hours.

  Valerie tossed the cigarette. The remaining ashes burst into little orange sparks when it hit the pavement. Time to drag Todd off his ass. He was little use to her sitting on the sidelines and chicks might get the wrong idea that Todd was available.

  Before she could turn and head back to the club, someone came at her from behind, slamming into her back. Valerie’s purse slipped off her arm and fell to the ground. She would have stumbled forward, too, if rough hands hadn’t grabbed her face.

  Her scream was cut off by an iron tight grip over her mouth. She couldn’t open her mouth enough to bite him.

  Valerie struggled to free herself, but her assailant tightened his grip.

  Her arms and legs were free so she stomped on his feet and beat back at his shoulders, which were pressed and pinched against hers.

  Since she couldn’t scream out loud, Valerie screamed inside her head, hollering every obscenity in the English language.

  No way was this mother fucker raping her. If only she could reach her purse, retrieve the gun, and blow his face off.

  She threw her body against his, hoping he’d stumble back, but he held his ground, as solid and unmoving as the buildings that boxed her in. Valerie continued stomping her foot down until hitting her mark: the man’s shoe.

  His body shifted, but his hand remained affixed over her mouth.

  Valerie pushed back against him, following the body slam with a steady bout of thrashing. She threw her arms and legs into her counter assault and felt the first glimmer of hope when his grip on her loosened.