why you gotta be like that

Beatrice Adair. 

About | Statistics | Connections

Paul Lahote.

@mccngazer​ – 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚 & 𝐛𝐞𝐚 !

  bella   hadn’t   worked   at   the   seattle   library   for   very   long   but   in   her   short   time   there   she’d   gotten   to   know   a   bit   of   the   regulars   -   one   of   them   being   a   young   playwright   .   she   approached   the   other   with   a   smile   ,   a   stack   of   scripts   in   hand   .   “   here   are   the   plays   you   wanted   ,   ”   bella   said   ,   setting   them   down   on   the   table   .   “   tell   me   ,   when   am   i   gonna   get   to   read   one   of   yours   ?   ”   her   tone   was   light   ,   pleasant   and   mildly   teasing   .

   the   past   year   had   been   tough   on   willow   ,   it’s   not   easy   losing   a   sister   ,   but   she   was   grateful   to   paul   for   being   a   much   needed   friend   .   they   might   not’ve   worked   out   as   a   couple   but   willow   liked   to   think   that   was   all   for   the   best   as   their   friendship   grew   from   it   .   the   teacher   smiled   as   he   came   into   view   ,   a   soft   laugh   leaving   their   lips   .   “   long   time   no   see   ,   stranger   .   ”

“you really should get some sleep.” she noted.  the last thing she wanted was for him to pass out from the lack of sleep. despite not needing to sleep herself, she knew how important it was for some people to sleep. and to get a good amount of hours of sleep in too.  "or maybe just take a nap.“ she suggested. sitting up a bit more in the seat, she didn’t know what else to really say. in a sense, this was sort of awkward. especially with not knowing what to really talk about at all. but just being near him was more than enough for her.

"messed up?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “life is like that. everything can be going fine and then all of a sudden, life decides to mess everything up.” she knew that all too well. her life had been going well before she was turned. there was nothing she could do about that now. “the only thing you can do when it’s like that is work your way through it.”

...

A nap didn’t sound bad right about now. He was sure that if he closed his eyes longer than a couple of minutes; he would be out like a light. “Planning a nap for the near future right now.” He said honestly. Paul knew that the nap would be the only sleep he would get for tonight as he was on duty tonight and be patrolling. “Don’t know how much help it will be, but I’ll make sure to make it at least two hours long.”

“Sounds like you have some experience in that department.” Deflect, deflect, deflect. Paul didn’t really like mentioning how his life easily slips into a personal hell. Too many moments of things going well and then just tanking immediately after. Though know that he thought about it it was probably not very gentleman of him to direct the conversation to her when it was about him in the beginning. “Hopefully soon it will be over. That’s all I’m hoping.”

“Maybe, but, I don’t know,” Nora shrugged. “Gram’s is just magical when she does it,” maybe it’s because she always looked at her like a mentor, but Nora had wholly convinced herself that Sylvia was the best of the best, even in their hole-in-the-wall shop. As Bea spoke about her day, Nora listened as she placed piece after piece of lettuce in her mouth. She appreciated the normalcy that was her conversations with her roommate. In a sea of brooding hipsters, it was just nice to chat, like regular people.

“Oh, I never tell anyone terrible things!” Nora exclaimed. While she didn’t fully believe in her tarot reading abilities, if Nora ever saw anything horrible in the cards, she’d never tell the person. Most of the time people came in for novelty purposes or advice, she’d never tell them if she saw death or horror in their lives. Maybe a cautious nudge, but never anything that would leave them feeling empty afterwards. “There was a man who came in, though. Had to have been about gram’s age, wanting a reading, but I think he just wanted to talk to her. I think he found her pretty. I don’t think gram’s really took to him, though. Bald just isn’t her type.”

...

Being a friend of Bea’s meant that whenever they felt as though you were talking yourself down or not putting enough faith in yourself, they would do it for you. Was it her people pleaser personality or maybe it was their problem at always looking for the good in them. “And as her granddaughter, you, by genetics, are magical as well.” They assured, “Plus you got to get good because if I ever feel the need to know my future, I’m only trusting you to do it.”

It was nice hearing that Nora didn’t go around and tell people that their partner is cheating or something worse. It still didn’t make Beatrice any more comfortable with the idea. Sure they just said that Nora would be the one to read her cards, but she didn’t really put any meaning behind it.  “That is actually adorable. Do you think he will come in tomorrow and try to see her too?”

Jessica dropped the pose with sulky pout, suddenly feeling more crucified than triumphant as she cradled the bottle in her arms and stroked the golden foil like an adoring mother. She could be healthy. She could be so healthy. Which was exactly why she looked like she was choking on her morning homeopathic women’s health multivitamin while her heart pined for a plate of biscuits with sausage gravy. But after she finished stammering to interrupt, she could only insist, “I love salads. I love your salads. I could kill for a salad right now.”

Not true. She could kill for many things: her best friends, her cat, a pair of Prada boots, clear skin, a really good breakfast sandwich. Salads didn’t make the list. But Jessica liked to think of herself as a good friend, and good friends supported their friend’s silly, boring interests. Such as organic produce. Bea had certainly supported hers in the past, which primarily consisted of drinking, shopping, and online dating.

“Middle of the d— It’s called brunch, Bea. It’s kind of a holy day, commonly taken on Sundays after a night of drinking to cure hangovers. Wait.” Jessica spun around to survey the thinning crowd, over caffeination causing her pace from foot to foot like a nervous hummingbird. “You’re working here alone?” she gasped, brows shooting up behind choppy bangs. “On a weekend?” She tsked in annoyance. “Did that twat— what’s his name? Kevin? Collin? Kyle? Did Kyle call in sick?” Jessica swept around the cashier’s table to begin helping them close. “Whatever, fuck him. Roxy’s diner?” 

...

Beatrice didn’t mean to come off rude, she just couldn’t image turning down a salad. “You’re not being serious about that are you?” They asked with a smile. Maybe they were being a tad bit pushy about the produce, but sometimes it was hard to turn off business brain to friend brain. “However, I did drink all my wine last night, so that is tempting.” Bea said pointing towards the bottle. 

They watched their friend look around the semi empty market and couldn’t help but let a small laugh slip out. “I don’t usually have help unless you count my aunt, but she’s a young soul and probably went out until three last night.” Her aunt was someone that Bra wish they could be. Carefree, outgoing, and just as ambiguous yet no matter how hard they tried, Beatrice would always back out if something seemed too far out of their comfort zone.  

She checked the crowd again and it seemed that while they were having their conversation it seemed to have gotten emptier. They were already have covered the tables and all she needed was the money from the register and they were to go. “Roxy’s dinner, it is. I’m paying though. I owe you from dragging me away from here.”

ALICE SHOOK THE JACKET, effectively forcing them to take a closer look at it.  “it’s lonely, it wants you to wear it.” she insisted, all in good fun. that felt easier than them explaining how the jacket didn’t do much to shield them from the elements, it was nothing more than…clothes. hung up on the jacket debacle, alice persisted, “trust me, i don’t need it, take it! you can give it back to me over lunch or something…” smiling at the idea, alice slipped the cigarette between their teeth. that would be nice, wouldn’t it. “besides, you just told me how cute you thought it was! what if the love of your life is that lyft driver?” unlikely “you want to look good, don’t you?” 

...

If anyone asked, it was the perfectly timed wind that blew past her causing the hair on the back of her neck to stand up and not them taking the jacket to not hurt the other’s feelings. It was already decided that they would gladly take the jacket and wear it for the few moments that hse stood outside, but she patiently waited for them to finish. ‘I got to start speaking up.’ She ridiculed herself at thought of not being able to simple say okay i’ll take it. “Fine,” They sighed as though they admitted defeat, “I’ll take it, but lunch will be on me. I have a produce stand and make killer salads.” Bea stated proudly. ‘There is is again your only personality trait; that blasted vendor.’ The smile on her face tightened. “It’s more likely that my cause of death would be the lyft driver than the love of my life at this rate.” She said letting out a laugh. They took the jacket and slipped in already sicking into the warm material that shielded her from being nipped at by the cold. “Thank you for the jacket by the way. My luck I would have a cold by the end of the day.” 

he really did want her to stay.  placing her book back down on the table, she sat back down on the seat.  a million thoughts raced through her head. would she had seen him again if he hadn’t wanted her to stay? truthfully, that wasn’t something she wanted to think about.   she wanted to see him again. which was strange for her.  there was something about him that drew her in. and she couldn’t figure out what it was exactly.  looking at him again, she couldn’t help but to notice the lack of sleep it seemed he had gotten.  maybe others wouldn’t have noticed, but she did. “did you get any sleep last night?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

...

‘Now what?’ his thoughts asked him. He didn’t really think about what would happen if she did stay. Paul just didn’t want her to leave and now that she did; he was lost. He didn’t even know the girl’s name. He ran a hand down his face, of course he would be the one stuck in a situation like this. The lack of sleep, the arrival of vampires, and now this; the universe had to be out to get him. ‘Or maybe this was suppose to be a break from all that.’ That thought had him growling mentally. Even with all the lore about imprints and documentation they have about what it truly meant; they had no clue. Specifically, he had no clue what any of this meant. It was then when the thought crossed his mind, ‘Did she even know what was going on?’ It wasn’t like there was vamp 101 for shapeshifters, the only thing he knew was that if you see then snacking on a human to rip their heads off. 

The question made him realize how bad he must look. He shifted so that he sat bit straighter and puffed his chest out to give the illusion that he wasn’t about to pass out any second. “No, I couldn’t sleep.” The short response was as much as he could give. ‘Thought this was suppose to be easy? Wasn’t that what all the old men used to sing around the campfire or did I miss a session?’ He silently scolded. Paul let out a strained cough before he fixed his response, “I just had a rough night, lifes been a little-y’know.”

Minah’s stomach dropped. She wasn’t even sure if she was still breathing. Her eyes squeezed shut for a moment, hoping there would be some miracle that would come and save her. Some magic escape door, another customer needing Bea’s attention, a fire in the building, literally anything that could spare her from what was about to happen. A deep breath filtered through her system. She needed more time, needed to figure out what to say. It’s not like she could just turn around, wrap Bea in a hug, and say ‘surprise! I’m not dead, I’m a vampire. Want to go out?’  Maybe she could just ignore them until they found something else to do— No. She has to face this. 

It felt like she was stuck in slow motion when she turned to face Bea. She kept her eyes locked on the ground, not sure if she could handle the look on their face. If she were to look up she would break, beg for forgiveness and inflict the knowledge of the supernatural on Bea. All her efforts of keeping her loved ones safe would have been wasted. Minah could be selfish, put herself before others for once, and be honest with Bea. Part of her is contemplating it. Her gaze crept up from the floor to meet Bea’s. No. She can’t be selfish, not about this. Bea’s safety is what matters and if Minah comes back into their life she’ll be dooming her. She knew what she had to do now even if it did break her heart. “So, you caught me.”

The customer service smile dropped as soon as Beatrice saw the side of their face. The ball that lodged itself in her throat fell and now weighed them down. What did she feel exactly? Happy? Sad? Betrayal? Anger? It all mixed together at the sight of Minah. They probably looked like a fish fresh out of water. Their mouth opened and closed trying to form sentences without knowing what words to say. Her hands found themselves busy as they fiddled with whatever produce they could get their hands on. They shook as they moved things around, the red head shook their head repeatedly as they tried to make sense of what was going on. 

There were plenty of things (plenty of things) that could get Jessica Stanley down, but a hangover was not one of them. She’d had a very busy day—waking late in the afternoon with a splitting headache and the strange sensation that her blood had turned to pudding. Her plans for the evening involved lounging around in a pink silk robe that she may or may not have taken from her mother without asking, sighing loudly while her cat blinked judgmentally at her, and generally feeling sorry for herself in a romantic, old-Hollywood sort of fashion instead of the usual depressed, grief stricken way she had lately been accustomed. All in all, it was looking to be a very productive day. 

Jessica was weighing the pros and cons of rousing herself from her bed to get a glass of water when the schedule notification arrived on her phone: Sunday, 12:30pm, Visit Bea (Fix Mess). Jessica had forgotten when or why she’d set the notification. Perhaps sometime last night, after she’d blacked out at Bea’s and taken an uber home? Feeling suddenly energized to figure out what mess she’d caused and how to fix it, Jessica pulled away the duvet away with a dramatic flair. 

When she stood the room tilted dangerously, and she could feel her pulse between her temples, but it was nothing a little hair of the dog wouldn’t fix. Scarcely ten minutes later she was out the door, a whirlwind with a bottle of champagne in hand. She’d hastily touched up last night’s makeup and run french tipped nails through her messy bob, dressed in a clean new outfit and a pair of sunglasses, but her haphazard efforts to make herself presentable weren’t enough to spare her a few withering looks from the people she passed on her way to the farmer’s market. 

Jessica hurried to Bea’s stall, pausing only to make take a cursory glance at their display. Stunning. “Oh no, these would sit and die in my drawer,” she replied gloomily, staring down at the array of lettuce as if she had already killed them. “I don’t know why, but making salads makes me sad. Anyway,” Jessica waved a dismissive hand at the vegetables and brightened as she swung her arms wide to proudly show off the bottle she’d brought. “Stop working immediately.”

...

The short black hair shocked Bea, mockingly she checked their watch and then raised a brow at the girl, “Didn’t think I would be seeing you already after last night.” Beatrice didn’t drink a lot nor did she drink often. However she was prone to having wine nights especially when Jessica was involved and last night was no exception. Her limit was one bottle but it was enough to have them crying and spilling all the small things in their life that had them crumbing and it didn’t help they brought up their late friend. 

“Probably because it’s actually healthy for you.” Bea joked rolling her eyes, the pescatarian herself ate salads at least once a day varying from fruit salads to the fan favorite house salad. Leaning over to grab the once forgotten red apple, Bea placed it back into their home before turning back around. “I promise if I made you a salad, you would simply fall in love.”  They begged, ‘Maybe their obsession with fresh produce was as bad as their aunt said.’

Their eyes widen at the sight of the bottle, “Oh my gosh, Jessica, its the middle of the day! Did you get good news or something?” She laughed as they shook their head. ‘Stop working’ Taking an overworked sigh, Beatrice glanced down the nearly empty hallway. Being a Sunday meant she could practically close at anytime even if it went against everything they believed in, “You are lucky I love you, but you have to help me cover up the food and lock up.” Bea said trying to sound stern but failing as she dropped the finger she had pointed at the friend.

Nora didn’t know why she seemed so shocked to see Bea as she fully turned around to look at whoever walked through the door. Like clockwork it always seemed like whenever Bea was done with her tasks for the day, they would drop off lunch or dinner to Nora. It was the small things that she enjoyed about having a roommate, especially when it came in the form of Bea Adair. “Trust me, gram’s does it better,” she shrugged. She didn’t know if that was really true, reading cards to her was just a fun way to make money. No matter the look on people’s faces whenever she’d say something correct about their past, it was just a game to her.

As soon as Nora saw the salad in Bea’s hands, she immediately grabbed the salad. Nora had sort of become so accustomed to her roommate bringing her lunch or snacking on whatever trail mix her grandmother would have on hand so it was easy to forget simple tasks as such. Hopping up on the counter, she popped the container open and began eating. It was safe to say Bea’s salads were the best. “No, I think I’m all good, as long as no one else comes in,” which shouldn’t be a problem since the shop didn’t average many customers to begin with. “How was the set up today?”

..

Her grandmother could be better than Nora, although Bea’s faith in their friend is too deep to believe that. Either way they wouldn’t know, at first she was interested in it all and almost Nora for on, but then she weighed her past and decided the idea of getting a bad reading would not be well for the redhead. “You’ll get to her level if you haven’t already, I’m sure.” Bea said hoping onto one of the counters as she watched Nora. 

Thinking of a way to phrase her day at the market without saying her usually spill about how someone though a fruit was rotten because of the color when it was in fact a complete different fruit in the beginning. Or how it was the same few customers she got weekly was difficult. “It was..the same old same old.” They shrugged. It wasn’t the most exciting job but it was a passion. “What about you? Tell any poor souls that their spouse was probably cheating or that they should be on a look out for tall, dark, and handsome?”

The bleak Seattle sky turned the city a soft shade of grey, clouds blanketed the sky with the threat of rain at any moment. The dullness of the outside world made the farmer’s market look all that more enchanting. Minah once joked that it looked like Wonderland with how vibrant the cascade of produce appeared. The aisles of colors and aromatic goods made for a positive atmosphere, one that complimented the bright-eyed red head who worked the store. In Minah’s eyes Bea had always been a beacon of positivity, radiating warmth and beauty. Their bright smile, kind eyes, and addicting personality kept Minah coming back to the farmer’s market. She initially went one summer afternoon, her only objective to get ingredients for dinner but by the end of her visit all she could think about was seeing Bea again. So in the following weeks she made more unnecessary trips to the market- each visit accompanied by a practiced excuse of dishes she was going to cook, lies of passing through the neighborhood, and any other plausible reasons on why she needed to be there. 

Minah supposes old habits are hard to break even in death. When she started her day she had no intention of going to the farmers market. She had vowed to herself that her life was over and everything (and everyone) in it would be safer without her presence, thus marked her move across town. For months her friends had formed search parties, her co-workers gossiped about where they’d find her body, and acquaintances already moved on. Part of her had always wondered whether Bea knew of her tragic demise and if she missed her the same way Minah missed them. But the larger part of her tried not to think about Bea (which proved to be an impossible feat) in hopes of moving on from a love that existed only in her head.

From behind one of the displays Minah stole a glance at the red head. She knew being here was stupid, but once she made her way through the doors and saw Bea she couldn’t bring herself to care. So she told herself this was a one time indulgence, just a small check in to make sure Bea was okay.  As the customer Bea was checking out departed and she made her way from behind the counter, Minah hid as best she could- praying not to get caught. Perhaps prayers only work out for the living because moments later a familiar voice filled her ears. Her heart contracted and she froze in her spot. All her efforts of being inconspicuous were thrown out the window and she now had to face the consequences of her reckless actions. But maybe there was still a way out of this, maybe if she didn’t face her and shrugged her off things would be okay, “Just looking, thank you.”

There was a  feeling of a figurative ball being longed in Bea’s throat.  It was just the back of someone’s head. A head that Beatrice was fairly familiar with, but still just a back of a head. Dark hair is common hair color. there’s nothing about this particular head that could bring up many memories and feelings. The voice, however. She knew that voice. A voice that did should have belonged to someone dead. But here it was the familiar tune that she had memorized like her favorite song. 

ᴡʜᴇɴ: Middle of the Day

ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ: Indoor Famers Market

‘twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, and-’ “Twenty-eight dollars and fifty cents is your change. Have a wonderful and happy holidays.” They waved off the customer closing the register. The market today hadn’t been too bad for the red head to handle by herself.  Though it didn’t matter even if it wasn’t, the red head knew that if she tried to call up their aunt for help she would most likely get chewed out for working, again. Bea was a workaholic something she took pride in plus they didn’t enjoy the pun Busy Bea for no reason. 

Proudly she glanced over her display, the colorful fruits and veggies always brightened their mood. Sorted by type then by color was their favorite way to organize the produce. And not to brag but it made the other vendors’ display look boring. Spotting a red apple mixed in with the green ones she went to grab it before noticing another customer hovering around the vegetables. Ditching the red fruit knowing that the bright color would bring them back, “Afternoon, looking for anything specific?” Again not to brag, but with her father’s temperature controlled greenhouse not only was her display the most aesthetic pleasing stand, but it also held more variety of produce. “Our romaine lettuce is popular and also rare to find local during this time of the year along with green beans and squash.” 

“part of me is actually jealous of you. feel free to eat another one for me.” that was what she missed the most about being human. the food and drinks. she missed those days of eating her mothers home cooked meals.  grabbing her sketch book as she stood up, she truthfully didn’t expect him to stand up too.  the words though that came from him surprised her the most.  did he actually want her to stay?  standing there, she couldn’t help but to gaze at him.  was almost expected him to let her leave. “so, you want me to stay then?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. if he really wanted her to stay, she would. she wouldn’t walk off if that was what he really wanted. “i’ll stay ifyou really want me too.”

...

He ignored the comment about the food. His appetite for once was long gone which was weird as it usually was an endless pit since he started shifting. The alarm bells that set off were also ignored.  He footing shifted as he stood there, the bundle of nerves that he could feel gathering; bursting. Paul thoughts jumping from ‘if she leaves is that it?’ to ‘maybe he should just let her leave?’. He never hated his inner thoughts more than in this moment. The reality was that he didn’t want her to leave, but it was like his genetics were ripping themselves apart on what to do. He didn’t trust his own words, but he also didn’t move from where he stood, “Stay...” The rushed harsh undertone made the word come out more as a demand than a suggestions causing him to flinch, “please.” Paul added on. 

THE STRANGER had a limited time before their lyft arrived, alice knew that instantly. there was a valid point in the yellow teeth and bad breath, but alice supposed that wasn’t something to worry about. instead, her laugh trickled lightly into the air, and she disregarded the comment. “you’re cold.” they observed, shrugging off her jacket, “here, i don’t need it.” she held her coat out for the other, and while beatrice had yet to respond, she enthusiastically informed her, “i thrifted this coat, and it’s such a treasure!” alice eyed the knee length jacket, then met bea’s eyes, “isn’t it so cute?”

maybe she should have paid attention to where she was sitting. or better yet, who she was sitting across from. she never expected to run into him again.  but this was seattle. even if the city was big, it was still possible to run into someone again. “to be fair, i was working on something.” she pointed out. was it not obvious with the sketch book she had been looking down at. closing the book, she placed down the pencil she had in her hand. “at least i didn’t steal your muffin.” she teased as a small smile formed on her lips. did the muffin look good? absolutely. if she was human, she would have gotten one.   “if you want me to leave, just say so.” she spoke, standing up from the chair. did she want to stay and talk to him? yes. but if she wasn’t welcomed there, she wouldn’t hesitate to move to a different table, or leave the cafe all together.

..

His eyes followed her hand and just noticed the sketchbook that had in front of her. ‘That does make more sense now.’ He thought, but his pride was held to high to let her know that he was too busy in his thoughts and being ignored than the answer simply being that she was busy.  “You wouldn’t be able to get it if you tried.” ‘Did he just tease her back?’ Paul internally scowled at the realization. It barely been any time and he was already treating her as though he forgot what she was. ‘if you want me to leave just say so.’ That sentence triggered something inside him. he still was confused as to what all of this was and it wasn’t like he could just go ask someone about it. No one else that he knew so far at his type of situation. but whatever it triggered, it was strong enough to have him stand up with her. The rubbing of the wooden chair and the floor was louder than intended, but he ignored it as he reached out to stop her from leaving. “Wait, you don’t have to go.”