Chapter 5

Rue POV

I am at the vampire town called Cisp Town. The town is filled with French Mediterranean homes and vampires who are either pureblood, newborn, or hybrids. I have never been to Cisp Town, since I have no reason to be there. I don't have a problem with vampires, hell I have worked vampires. I just never met a vampire who lived there. I also don't go to Cisp Town because the majority of the vampires here are older, set in their ways, and prejudiced against werewolves. The younger ones would probably look at me with curiosity, and or wonder why I am here. Honestly, being a werewolf in this town is like a person of color walking by themselves in a racist neighborhood. I was raised to judge a person's character, not what they are or who their family is. A person doesn't ask to be born, or asks to be a newborn. You certainly can't choose who your family is, everybody has a messed up family or family members.

This is my last gig for tonight before I go home, take a hot bath, start my homework, eat some leftover spaghetti, call Joshua for a date, and head to bed. Speaking of the devil, a familiar phone number called me and I immediately picked up. “Hello Rue, is this a good time?” the sexy Southern boy asked. “I am just driving to my last gig, what's up?” I asked. The Southern drawl still gives me butterflies in my stomach. “I am wondering if you would like to go on a date with me?” my mate asked. “I am free all day tomorrow, you can pick me up at 11 for a brunch date at my Grandma's bar. I am going to text you my home address where you can pick me up,” I said. I have a white brunch sundress with green floral patterns and cute sandals. “Sure, I will be there. I will see you soon, my mate,” he said. I sent him my home address before saying our goodbyes. I was so excited to see my mate again, I just hope he is a good match.

I arrived at the client's home, the home is a modern French farmhouse. The client is a vampire lord named Jerome Batteux. The Afro-Frenchman has no magical abilities, which is uncommon for vampire lords. Some vampire lords have magical powers, but it all has to do with your essence. Batteux is a cult leader, a council member, and a sexist womanizer. That guy will go for any attractive female, whether she is taken or not. I heard that he is direct, confident, calculating, calm, methodical, honest, and has a magnetic aura. Batteux is basically a really strong vampire who can walk in the sun. He calls his followers either his children or grandchildren. His lackey is supposed to be a blonde, white vampire named Serge. I heard that the lackey is extremely to Batteux, rude, cynical, sly, and snooty. I also hear that Serge could be described as a sociopath.

In Batteux's driveway is an Alpine A110, the French Porsche. I will always have an appreciation for all cars, including luxury cars, as a gear head. As soon as I pulled up, a vampire who I guessed was Serge came out of the house in business casual clothes, big black eyes, a blonde stubble, and a lanky build. I just got out of the van, only to have this jerk look me up and down like I was a peasant. “Where is the mechanic and are you the assistant?” he asked me in a rude tone. “I am the mechanic, Rue Johnson,” I said while resisting the urge to go behind him, hug him from behind, and perform the suplex city move on him. As soon as I got my tools out of my van, this guy was so out of pocket. He kept insinuating that this is a man's job and I should be in college. Serge even did the dreaded hovering, it is so creepy and annoying when people do that. I am happy to show you what is going on. Hovering and micromanaging the professional is like when the creepy kid has a crush on you and breathes hot, nasty breath on you.

Batteux came out of the house to grace us with his presence. The marshmallow-skinned vampire is my height with a handsome face, a lean muscular body, and long brown curly hair. As I proceeded to work on the car as quickly as I could, so I could go home, Batteux immediately started to flirt with me in French. Good lord, he is doing that, that is so old news. “Une belle fille qui travaille un homme. Quelle honte ! A beautiful girl working a man's job. Such a shame!” I heard him say it in French. That really pissed me off, I worked my ass off as a mechanic and had my own business just to get disrespected by two jerks who couldn't even fix the car themselves. It was even ruder to talk about someone in a different language. I just smiled as I finished fixing the car, and I said in French, “Heureusement, ce n'est pas les années 1950. Thankfully, it is not the 1950s.”

Both men looked shocked, probably because riffraff can speak their native tongue fluently. I gathered my things and my pay, and got into the van, then drove off. I have faced discrimination due to being a female and a werewolf. Unfortunately, there are women out there who are just as backwards as the males. I have had experiences with both sexist dicks, it hurts me even more when a fellow female is like that. What is so bad is that they don't realize that women have fought for them to have rights and more freedom. You have the right to have any job you want and wear whatever you want, only to throw it in other women's faces. Blue collar workers get no love either. We blue collar workers created towns and cities, so the privilege can stand so high and mighty today. I am not going to let snooty jerks who can't even fix their own tire, let alone fix their own engine, look down on me because of my job.