Chapter 3 (Lafayette & Tara)
Tara : Hell, I don't know this is Sookie's whacked out dream
Lafayette: Hey Sookie, give me a love scene in your dream, smoochies
“Lafayette, hurry up, I got places to go and people to see!”, Tara yells out through the passenger side window of her car, honking her horn
Seconds later Lafayette hops in, glaring at her,
“Damn bitch what's the rush?”
Rolls her eyes at her openly gay cousin, while he flipped down the sunvisor to use the mirror to apply his glittery lip gloss.
“I've got to get to Grabbit-Kwik and talk to Sookie, looks out her rear view mirror, before pulling out to traffic, “I think she saw that article in Shreveport Times about her ex.”
Lafayette gave her a dumbfounded look, as they were driving,
“I thought her and Vampire Bill were old news?”
Briefly glances at him, before averting her eyes back on the road,
“Naw. She was kickin' it with Eric”
Raising his eyebrows, bugging his eyes,
“Wait a minute, are you talking about that tall glass of water who was at her house a while back?” Tara nodded her head. Letting out a giggle, grabbing his nail file, filing his nails, “Gurl, he was monstrously delicious.”
Tara chuckled a little. She even admitted to herself, he was fine—for a vamp.
“Well you know how Sookie is, scared to death of being hurt. I kept telling her Eric loves the fuck out of her, but she rather believe lying ass Vampire Bill over him” shaking her head in disbelief. Then she remembered she neglected to put her “driving” music back on, her dream man—Tupac!
Lafayette realizes what she is about to play, then gives her the “give me a freaking break” look. Tara saw it and wasn't pleased,
“What the hell, how dare you diss, my future baby-daddy”, turning the volume up louder, just to aggravate her thuggish, yet flamboyant cousin.
“Bitch please, I'll put you out of your own damn car, if you don't turn that shit down!”, wagging his finger, “Don't test me ho!”
Tara was fearless, she wasn't even intimidated by Eric, her cousin on the other hand—not that was a different story. Begrudgingly, she turned it down.
Lafayette started gazing out the window, noticing all the graffiti written dilapidated buildings,tall weed infested yards, in their neck of the woods, so to speak. He resented how the past years affected Bon Temps. Sure it was a backwater hell whole of a town, but through the Reaganomics and Bushism, the economic plight affected the already poverty stricken areas. Though he was a cook at Merlotte's, a sports bar of sorts, he had other ideas in regards to securing his financial future. Goal get rich and get the fuck out of Bon Temps. Ever since the vamps “came out of the coffin”, they have been part of his “portfolio”. Tara pulled him out of his thoughts,'
“So what do you think?”
“Think about what?”
“About the fact he supposedly cheated on her.”
“So she think, because he fed on another wench he cheated on her?”
“Yeah.”
He glances over at Tara,
“Did he tell her this?”
“Naw, weren't you listening? Vampire Bill told her this shit, claimed he even had pictures.” she sneered .
“Well for one, when vamps feed if they desire who they are feeding from, or even if they get caught up” waving his nail file, to enucinate his point, “in the bloodlust, hell yeah fucking will be commencing”, putting up his nail file, looking for his mascara in his little bag.
Veering a look at Lafayette, with an incredulous look on her face,
“How you know?”, judging by the look on his face, and the fact he was too busy applying his mascara to even respond back. Sensing her disapproval, without even looking at her, he waves the mascara wand at her,
“Bitch! Don't judge me, besides,” reapplying the mascara on his lashes, and putting it up, “it's just business.” Tara jaw dropped in her lap.
“Do you hear yourself, Lafayette, you ain't no better than a damn prostitute.”
“And...i'm a paid free-lance sex counselor, exclusively for vamps, to help improve human/vamps relations?” he replied smoothly.
Tara shaking her head trying to focus on driving, they are only about 5 blocks away from the store, then a song came on the radio, she turns up the volume,
“Oh shit, that's my jam” snaking her head while driving.
Lafayette raising up from his thuggish slouch in the passenger side,
“Girl what you know about that, you were still hanging from your mama tit when this song came out.” hint of smirk shadowing on his glossy lips.
“Muthafucka, you only 3 years older than me.”
As if the conversation was long forgotten, like a song by Cameo “Candy” can take away that sour ass discussion.
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