Can't Tame Me

"Are you vampires?" I asked him, wondering what trap I had fallen into.

"We can't hide anything from you!" He replies, amused. "It's Stéphane Veroni, and in case you didn't recognize me, I'm Nigel Caliene." He looks confident, like no one in the world could possibly not know who they are, let alone swoon over them. Pissed off by their dumb duo, I shrug my shoulders, staring at him sarcastically, oblivious to caution. "Because you are known?" He looks at me speechless, while the other bursts out laughing at his annoyed face. The blond, a priori offended, swells before resuming with disdain. "I am the most prominent model of this century!" I'm one of the richest vampires in New York! The whole world is snapping up our brand! Not to mention that Stéphane is one of the greatest CEOs in New York; he makes the cover of the most popular magazines! I look at him blankly. "And what interests me in my everyday life?" He stares at me with his round eyes, completely hallucinated, opening his mouth like a fish out of water. The situation is not progressing; worse, the other vampire extends his hand to take my wrist with the head of the flirt, who thinks he is holding prey. I'm losing patience. I'm a delivery girl; I'm here to work, not to support heavy loads. The longer I stay still, the more they feel like they can do whatever they want. Acting instinctively, I grab the thumb that was brushing the skin of my fingers and pull it violently back. The vampire's eyes widen in surprise as I push further and further until he drops to one knee. I see a lot of incomprehension in his eyes, as if he were much more surprised that the mouse was attacking the snake than he was embarrassed by the pain. Shocked, his friend rushes towards us. Not daring to break my grip, however, he simply gesticulates unnecessarily with growing annoyance, while the one in my grasp doesn't budge an eyelid, staring at me. "You are a crazy child!" The blond exclaims furiously, "You're risking your life! Do you even know who you're attacking? He is the blood prince of New York!" "In case you haven't figured it out yet, I don't give a damn! What I do know is that throwing pheromones in front of someone who doesn't consent is considered hunting! You risk much more than me on this one!" I release my grip as the two vampires look at me dumbfounded. For my part, I try to keep a straight face, while I do not really know if the police will come to rescue me here. Taking advantage of the fact that they are flabbergasted that someone dares to stand up to them, I again hand my tablet to the brunette, who is still on his knees on the ground. "Please sign!"" I ordered him, hoping it would take him some time to recover. Blinking, still stunned, big, junk Veroni grabs the stylus and scribbles on the screen. I then recover it with a quick gesture before pushing my cap with the image of my company on my skull. "Thank you for using Hermès Express," I tell them both, smiling while the vampire tycoon looks at me with wide, open eyes. "Do not hesitate to contact us for other orders."

Delivery person strategy: Remain professional in all circumstances. Always follow the rules. "However, be more polite next time!" I warned them, "Or you'll take my fist in the face! It will be more difficult to make the front page of magazines with a crooked nose and broken teeth!"

I then turn on my heels briskly, heading for the elevator as dignified and calm as possible while trying to move very fast. Once in the shelter, when the doors close, I lean against the wall, breathing hard as I run a hand through my long brown hair while trying to calm myself down. I was close to having a heart attack. I do not know vampires well, but a priori, prey breathing their pheromones are paralyzed. This is how they used to eat before the three races signed the pact. I did not go far from the disaster because I believe that the brunette wanted to make me his dinner. The doors suddenly opened on the ground floor, making me straighten up like a jack-in-the-box. I still have a lot of work ahead of me; I don't have time to feel sorry for myself. It's just a misadventure in my already hectic life. Once at the reception desk, I throw the badge to the outraged secretary, who recovers it in extreme fashion, almost falling from her chair. I sneer wickedly as I head for the exit without slowing down as she gets up, completely losing her temper and yelling at me. She is silent even before I walk through the door; her boss is coming to scold her for having disturbed the cozy atmosphere of the hall. Without wasting time, I get back on my bike while glancing at my tablet, which tells me that I have a package to pick up in another neighborhood. Jumping on the saddle, I only have a few pedal strokes to give to reintegrate myself into traffic, easily picking up a good rhythm. I'm glad to be able to get off the vampire side of Manhattan. An hour later, I managed to finish two more races before deciding that was enough for today. So I return to the depot, which is not very far from my last client. I'm putting my bike down when I meet Sam, an overexcited and always happy little blond. Seeing me, he calls out to me immediately with a big wave of his hand. "Hi beauty! The form?" "Yeah!" I said it tersely, hoping to end the conversation quickly. "It seems that you broke the race quota again today!" He continues admiringly, looking at the day's data on his tablet. After each vacation, our personal data is downloaded so as to be visible on the intranet. The idea is that we are all in competition because whoever makes the most journeys wins a bonus. Around me, I can feel the other couriers giving me acid sideways glances, annoyed that I'm once again winning the money for the day. I know that many of them dream at best of dethroning me and at worst of seeing me go under a truck. If they knew how their jealousies go over my head, I would have much more to do in my life than worry about what they think of me. "To tell the truth," I sneered, telling myself that they would be surprised to know what the employee of the day did to her clients during her session. While locking my bike, I wonder if the two vampires that I shocked will dare come and complain about my performance. "Do you still need money?" Sam yells at me, snapping me out of my reverie, and slips next to me, ignoring the angry looks around him. A real ray of sunshine, Sam is one of those people who socializes with anyone without being interested in what others think. He is one of the few people with whom I speak a little. "I always need money!" I blurted it out, shrugging my shoulders.

I have not yet reached my goal of being able to start a new life in Canada. There is a certain amount of background required to apply for a visa, especially when, like me, you stopped school at 14 years old. As I put my gloves back in my backpack, he proudly handed me a poster of a vampiric center. "You have an Olympic shape; you don't smoke; you don't drink!" He told me it was a feat. Maybe you could go to this center; it pays well for good-quality blood! See, even you could find yourself a regular! I groan looking at him. I have heard of this kind of center before. It seems that you can make a lot of money by giving your blood voluntarily to bloodsuckers, with the juiciest plan being to find a regular. Rumor has it that every human has a different taste; if you find a vampire who likes your "scent," you can extort money from them as long as they drink from your jugular. However, if I am ready to do many things for money, I refuse to sell my body in any form. If I omit the fact that I won't trust the bloodsucker to release me until he has completely devoured me, I am not a commodity, and I will never be one! Only my job brings me money. Besides, I have another waiting for me. "Forget it," I tell him, pushing back the flyers he always hands me. That kind of thing doesn't mean anything to me! Besides, I'm busy... After making sure my bike is properly hooked up, I turn to him to finish our conversation, but our manager calls him. Sam waves goodbye, knowing it's been a while, as I'm already leaving the depot to catch the bus back to the Bronx. I allow myself a 30-minute nap and roll into a ball on a bench before getting off at my stop. I work at a bar. Nothing very glamorous; I simply clean the floor and the toilets while taking care of supplying the drinks. It just gives me a little boost to reach my goal faster. In addition to his two regular jobs, I also do a few extras here and there. I have become a master of the art of finding good deals. Fixing something for one, running an errand for the other—I do whatever makes me some money, even if sometimes it takes me to unsavory places. Moreover, the meeting with the two vampires was neither the first nor the worst of my experiences. However, I wondered for a long time about the ease with which I made the brunette bend his knees. Then, like every time my situation gets out of hand, I push it all to the back of my mind, moving on to something else to survive another day. It's almost two in the morning when I get home. A small studio in which I live alone. The description is "cocooning" to avoid saying that I live in a postage stamp. This is not a problem for me; the rent is very low, not to mention that I only need a corner to sleep in and a place to store my meager possessions anyway. Moreover, I have hardly set foot inside since I retrieved a bag of kibble and a can of water in a corner before returning to the park next to my house. It's the only thing I do that doesn't make me money. It's my personal pleasure. I take the bowls that I hide in a bush when my companions, alerted by the noise, come out everywhere. They are abandoned or runaway dogs; there are big ones, small ones, old ones, young ones... I see in their eyes all the harm that the three species have done to them. I just try to appease them a bit by giving them food, drink, and some affection. I pour the croquettes while the hungriest do not wait and throw themselves on them. I don't worry; I always have enough to eat for everyone. When they're all enjoying their meals, I catch the most gluttonous ones, petting them so others can eat. I soon find myself buried under the dogs, searching for my greatest happiness. I waited a long time because it's been several days since I had a new companion who is a little shy. However, I only saw him from a distance. He still doesn't trust me enough, even if he comes closer and closer. I think it is a very large model; however, it is so discreet that I am not sure. For the moment, I leave him bowls available when he leaves, hoping that he eats them. As it comes quite late, I wait while stroking my "regulars." This time I would really like it to approach. The bushes move on my left, making me flinch. I try to look calm and detached, but the pack around me has already changed its behavior. Some have pulled away a bit, while others are laying their ears down and flattening out, proof that my new friend is dominant. I said nothing for fear of seeing him leave. I'm not afraid to let him approach without having seen her; I'm not frightened by dogs, and I know that as long as I give him the possibility of fleeing, he has no reason to attack me. Sitting on the floor, I take a deep breath, waiting for him to be ready to show himself. After a long time, all my friends stepped back to make room for him. Surprised, I see him come out of the bushes in front of me, hobbling with his head down. I knew it would be big, but not exactly how big! When he walks around me to smell me better, his shadow completely covers me. I believe it must be the size of a small pony. I had never seen such a huge dog before. However, despite his imposing size, he seems to have had a difficult life. Its fur is as dull as moth-eaten, while its sides and thighs are streaked with scars. He can barely stand on his feet, and he must not have eaten his fill for quite a while either. At the same time, I'm going to need several packets of kibble if I want to succeed in filling him up.