A Night with Porsha

I never thought I would experience an existential crisis this early in life. Then again, being beaten and left for dead by a supernatural beast, only to become one myself, was definitely not on my list of life goals either.

There wasn’t any way of knowing if this was the start of a “new life” or just a dramatic turn of my existing one. Shit… maybe there wasn’t a difference between the two. All I knew for sure… I, Porsha Banks, was now a vampire. The thirst that was never far away heightened as my new existence played through my thoughts.

“Beverly Hills, where the rich come to reproduce, fester, and die of brain rot,” Aylin interjected as she effortlessly weaved the ‘borrowed’ sports car in and out of the lanes. Passing every vehicle that didn’t suit the speed she insisted on. “Between your fancy clothes and vague location selection, you must have decided on our destination, right?”

“Greystone Mansion,” I numbly answered.

I quickly glanced to see her reaction, and boredom was all I could pick up. Turning back toward the window, I let out a breath. Good, she still had no idea.

“What the hell, Porsha?”

My eyes widened, but I refused to turn to face her. I stopped mid-expiration. Aylin had figured out why I wanted to go there, or maybe not. God, I hope not.

“What?” I said as calmly as I could muster.

Aylin scoffed, “Uh, I don’t know how to get to this mansion of yours. You set up the GPS to get us to Beverley Hills, no farther. Hence my earlier line of questioning.”

I gave a tight-lipped grin. “Sorry, I guess my mind isn’t firing on all four cylinders. Siri—”

“Wait, I can do it. Just say the program’s name and give the destination, right?”

Nodding, I returned to my thoughts as Aylin played with the car’s tech.

Aylin drummed the stirring wheel as if trying to drum up some excitement. “Greystone, here we come!” There was a brief silence between us. “I can tell you’re worried about tonight’s hunt. That’s understandable with this being the first one you organized, but you shouldn’t be. Your instincts and my know-how will be more than enough for this hunt to end successfully,” she encouraged.

I tried again to smile, but my nerves kept getting the better of me. “I’m not too nervous. It’s just new territory for me, that’s all. Oh my God!” My foot pressed the imaginary brake as Aylin swerved into another lane before hitting a car and then sped up before the car behind her collided.

She ignored my reaction to her driving as a reflective look covered her expression. “I’m actually a little surprised. I thought you had more of a craving for rough and dirty than jaded and overprivileged. You definitely learn a vamp better once you let them choose the hunting grounds. But seriously, couldn’t we have found the same crowd in Malibu?”

I didn’t know how to answer her, and luckily for me, she didn’t press me to give her one. If Aylin knew who I planned to seek out, she would’ve lost her shit. We were supposed to leave our human life behind once we turned, but I had some trouble with that. Maybe I was still more human than I gave myself credit for.

Until now, I’ve been hidden away in my ex-husband’s forgotten Malibu home. There were only a handful of times that I could remember we’d even slept there. He had stopped caring about the property once the renovations were finished. Stan began using the property as a showpiece to impress his foreign business associates, wannabe starlet whores, and their dimwitted friends.

I couldn’t remember how Aylin and I had gotten there or how she knew of its existence in the first place. Honestly, I was too weak and starved to care at first. All that mattered were the ‘meals’ Aylin brought to me while I waited to be hand-fed like a baby bird.

At first, I was so pathetically frail. I remembered how Aylin had to bring my meals to the attic, where we hid away in body bags lined with soil during the day.

Aylin turned up the radio, capturing my attention. I stole a glance in her direction. Her fingers were still drumming the stirring wheel as her head nodded with the beat. She looked happy, and I hoped her good mood would keep after tonight’s outing. It didn’t take me long to realize Aylin has a way of doing things. She also had little patience for those that saw things differently than her. That was made clear during my first lucid assisted feed.

I remembered I tried to reject it, and Aylin didn’t take the rejection well. That day was now seared into my list of firsts. Too bad it would never be seen as a joyous experience.

Everything about that kill was stored in memory. Even his driver’s license information was easily recalled, whether from vampire O.C.D. or guilt. It was most likely the latter since this was the only license I’d ever bothered to check of my prey.

Even now, his information vividly displayed itself in my mind’s eye. Alabama class D license, I.D. number 5519719, born December 14th, 1992, James Johnson, male, 6 feet 4 inches, 230 pounds. His license’s picture was the undeveloped version of the young man he had become. The memory of his confident, pearly-white smile contrasting beautifully with his flawless, umber skin before Aylin and I left him a lifeless ashen husk. And all because he was a kind person. If he had never decided to help Aylin with her ‘broken-down’ car, he would still be alive today.