Deadbeat

By Erin Lausten

Megan was not getting involved with her deadbeat cousin. She'd been down this road before and it left her with dead rats in her ductwork. All she wanted was to continue her predictable existence as a pre-school teacher. Megan loved her kids, the parents and her dragon-lady boss she could do without, but those kids made it worthwhile - almost. Unfortunately, Clarence reminded her of the preschoolers. Once she gave in and let Clarence into her home Megan's life would never be the same.
Thrust into "The Community" Megan met supernatural beings she thought only existed in books and movies. She either had to accept the adventure and up her game, or check into the loony bin. She would show the violent pec flexing vampires and the sneaky car destroying demons that Megan Sharp was no mere 20-something human. Megan Sharp could fake confidence and authority with the best of them. It was time to show these supes she was the best King's Liason ever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Erin Lausten
• Release date: Sep 3, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310826825

Erin Lausten

History has been the single unifying interest in Erin Lausten's life from a very young age. After several years as an archaeologist she moved to libraries where she realized her true passion lay in writing the stories in her head. Combining romance, history and excitement she hopes her readers walk away from her books smiling and ready for more.She lives in Arizona with her archaeologist husband and three children.

Book preview

Deadbeat

by Erin Lausten

Published by Drago Fortuna Publishing

Copyright 2015 Erin Lausten

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Chapter 1

Absolutely not. Megan was not going to do this again. She tried to slam the door on her cousin, but he stuck his foot between the door and the jamb. Damn it Clarence, I told you never to come back. Ever!

Come on, Meg. The sun’s almost up. His voice grated on her nerves. If she thought it possible, she’d say his voice had reached a level of whiney never before hit by a creature-human or otherwise.

No. And damn it, this time she meant it.

I don’t have anywhere to go! he wailed. She cringed and looked through the crack to see if the neighbors were watching. A curtain twitched in the house across the street. Just fabulous, Clarence peeked an eye into the crack, the once brilliant blue of his eyes was faded and the rims of his eye lids had an eerie bluish tinge. Please Meg! You know you’re the only family I have.

Sucks to be you. The comment was a bit too literal, but at the moment all she wanted to do was keep her moocher cousin out. By the looks of him, with desperate eyes and blond hair sticking together in clumps, trouble landed in his lap again and he needed a place to hide out. In other words, he’d burned so many bridges no one else would let him crash on their couch. A shoulder to the door didn’t remove him. It wouldn’t budge. I swear, if you don’t beat it in two seconds, I will find a way to cut off that foot.

His head thumped against the door and everything stilled. Megan peered back through the crack to find his eyes pressed closed, blood streaming from his right nostril and landing in a puddle on her porch. The same bluish tinge that touched his eyelids had spread to his lips, and the three large freckles on his right cheek stood stark against practically translucent skin. Granted, he usually looked pale as death, but this was bad. Really bad. She felt a twinge of sympathy and said, You look like hell.

My life is hell.

Sympathy evaporated and she threw up her hands. I seriously cannot have you here. I leave in an hour. Find somewhere else to hideout.

No response. Megan took a step back and waited for him to come through the door. The hinges creaked, but nothing happened. With eyes narrowed, she stepped forward, grabbed the door knob, and yanked.

A sickening thud sounded as Clarence fell across her threshold, splattering blood all over her paisley pajama pants and tile floors. You have to be kidding. She’d just mopped the floors! Just her luck, the first time she mopped in several months and he arrived to sully up her pretty shine. If Mr. Clean were an actual man, she might just call him and have him explain to her cousin just how horrendous a crime he’d committed.

Of course, with the condition he was in, Clarence wouldn’t notice a thing.

His head bent awkwardly to the side and his sightless eyes stared at the side wall. The bastard was completely dead to the world. Again-the description was literal. Megan released an aggrieved sigh. She didn’t have time for this. Maybe she should call the cops and report a dead body on her porch. A whimsical idea-but she’d never do that to him. Or to the cops.

The muscles of her legs protested further abuse after the hard night mopping, but she squatted, wrapped her arms under his shoulders, and dragged the dead weight of his body across her previously spotless floors. Blood followed him as a viscous smear.

Sunlight peeked through her open door and she considered giving it the finger. Not that the sun gave a shit about her needs but the timing left a lot to be desired.

When she reached the middle of the living room, she tucked a toe under her area rug flipping it up and away. Satisfied nothing irreplaceable would be destroyed, she let him fall with an unceremonious flop. His head bounced off the tile with a satisfying thunk.

A jeep sped past, the first of the usual endless stream of commuters leaving her plain, middle class neighborhood. Five steps to her door and she slammed it on any potential spies. Snooping neighbors had never been a problem. She ignored them and they generally ignored her-just how she liked it. But there was no point to inviting trouble.

Heading to the kitchen to wash her hands and collect cleaning supplies, she grimaced at the bloody fingerprints on her shirt. The pajamas would find themselves in the trash before she left the house for work. Damn it, they were her favorite pair. Finding comfortable pajamas took forever. Too scratchy, too tight, too...something. She hated shopping. Especially since her funds refused to grow while the cost of living skyrocketed.

If Clarence had even a penny to his name, she’d take it, but he didn’t, never did, and never would. A lot of families had deadbeat relatives show up on their front doorsteps. Horror stories of drugged out sisters and alcoholic uncles were systematically shared between friends. Everybody had it bad. She looked through the doorway to see his mouth hanging open. Two fangs stuck straight out, lifting his upper lip in a comical Elvis-like snarl. Even the most resolute of dentists would run screaming from a job like that.

Every family had their deadbeat. But how many of those deadbeats were hundred year-old, buck-toothed vampires?

She returned to the front hall with rubber gloves, a bucket of bleach water, and a giant sponge traditionally reserved for washing cars. Not bothering with silence, she ranted and raved about the multitude of his shortcomings as she mopped up the gloppy, red mess.

For no other reason than to vent her frustration, she leaned down to his ear and screamed. Not even a twitch. A flick to the same ear provided the same result. Completely dead to the world, Clarence would lay exactly as he was until sunset.

A sudden whiff of an odor she couldn’t place assaulted her nose. She bolted up and resumed cleaning the area around him. The man probably hadn’t bathed in a year. Maybe she should just dump him in her tub and let him soak for the day. A quick glance at the clock on the purely decorative mantel assured her running a bath was impossible.

A quick scrub of the floor was all she could do for now. But she wouldn’t leave the puddle of bloody snot on her porch. With her luck, the mail lady would see it and call in the police. Then she’d be facing a murder charge for a man who never died. Imagine explaining that to a judge.

The porch puddle came up easily and she thanked heaven for the small favor then hurried back into the house. Cleaning up bodily fluids wasn’t foreign to her. As a preschool teacher she cleaned up more than her share of snot, puke, and other nastiness. Yet there was something inherently wrong with having to clean up recycled blood leaking out the nose of an undead ancestor.

She emptied the bleach and blood water down the sink and glanced nervously at the microwave clock. If she didn’t move it, she’d be late. The parents of several of her four-year olds were planning to observe the classroom today. Her reflection flashed in the hall mirror and she flinched. A pony tail was about all she would be able to do with the frizzy brown mess.

Not that it mattered; half of the mothers coming this morning hated her. It wasn’t her fault they had to leave their precious babies every day. They’d made that decision themselves, but she still bore the brunt of their guilty consciences.

On the way to the front door Megan grabbed a pile of unwashed blankets and dumped them over Clarence. The last time he stayed with her they created a space in the guestroom walk-in closet to keep out the sun. No way was she going to haul his body to the back of the house. He would rough it on the floor and hope the blankets protected him from the light piercing through the blinds. Her concern ran pretty low for the inconsiderate blood-sucker this morning. She slammed the door on the way out.

The fifteen year old Honda Civic barely made it to the school in one piece as she dodged traffic and tried to focus on the day ahead. The Phoenix traffic only got worse when autumn set in. Snow Birds arrived the moment the freeze covered their home states. Megan would love to migrate when the desire arose, but a teacher’s salary only went so far. So, she suffered through the hellish summers just like all the average folk who called the Valley of the Sun home.

Clarence stuck it out through the tough summers too. At least he did during the year spent camping out in her closet. Granted, he never stepped foot outdoors in the daylight, and the temperatures did fall at night. Instead of 117 degrees, he only had to deal with 110. However, one would think an overabundance of sunlight would encourage vampires to find alternative lodgings. Then again, maybe it was just her nutty cousin that chose to spend his summers in purgatory’s lobby.

How was she going to get him out of her house this time?

The car slid into the tiny lot at a speed just a few miles over responsible and she slammed on the brakes to avoid a parent glaring with disdain filled impatience through the window of an SUV which cost more than her yearly salary. Without making eye contact, she circled around, found one of the few spots left for staff, and put the car in park. A quick jab at the steering wheel initiated a honk which startled one of the assistants as she made her way across the parking lot. Megan cringed and gave an apologetic wave.

There were eight four year olds who needed her full attention today. They deserved her focus far more than a century old adolescent.

Megan closed her eyes and drew in a steadying breath-she needed to get Clarence off her mind but frustrated thoughts persisted. It had been three years since she’d seen him last. He knocked on her door, buck teeth and bloody nose included, claiming to be a cousin from a distant branch on the family tree. At the time he failed to mention his branch was really more like a stump. He claimed tough times and bad luck then moved in to get back on his feet. He looked like a kid just out of high school and with his slovenly appearance he was like any other unremarkable, unbathed slacker.

Over time, however, she couldn’t deny the suspicion something just wasn’t right about her cousin. It wasn’t so much the mutant incisors which piqued her curiosity. Rather, his excuses for the constant flow of blood from his nose and the death-like sleep during the day grew ridiculously thin. Megan was convinced it was drugs. In a desperate ploy to stay, he told her the truth.

Clarence was made a vampire at the turn of the 20th century-almost to the minute to be exact. He was seventeen and enjoying the celebrations on New Year’s Eve in 1899. Apparently back then just about anyone could get trashed, but only if you remember to pay up. He innocently forgot to settle his tab at the bar. When he walked out the door he was accosted by the owners of the establishment and left in the alley with a gushing, bloody nose. These were, of course, his words and Megan suspected the bar owners would have a different recollection of the evening.

As he reached the crescendo in the story, he stood and dramatically declared, A great monster descended upon me and delivered the gift of life forever. Unfortunately for him, living forever included a permanent hole in his nose which drained blood like a sieve. She still couldn’t figure out how life as a leaky teen was worth the price.

A knock at the window yanked her back to reality. Kim made a face through the glass and pointed to the front door of the preschool. Megan frowned and rolled down the window. Kim leaned down and peered at her best friend. You ok? You’re shift is about to start.

Megan blinked at her in surprise then looked at the dash clock. Shit.

Kim laughed and stood up. You need to get that language out of your system. The parents are coming in hordes today.

Bloody Mongols, Megan said, rolled up the window and grabbed her bag.

When she pushed open the car door, Kim held up her hands. You’re growly this morning.

My cousin is in town. Megan slung her bag over her shoulder and the two headed toward the small building. Glass doors led to a brightly lit front room where bold colors splashed the walls with cheer. The hall to the right led to the infant room where a stack of shoes waited for their owners to return. A year ago, Megan had been offered a position with the infants, but the thought of wearing paper booties and the constant diaper changes made her decline. The position paid an infinitesimal amount more—definitely not worth it.

Kim waved at the student intern tucked into a small corner of the front room just large enough for a computer desk and chair. Megan looked away as the poor kid dropped a stack of paperwork on the floor and scrambled to clean it up before the office door to the right opened. Kim laughed, Don’t worry Jenna; I didn’t see the Director’s car in the lot. She’s running late. You’re snafu is safe with us.

Megan hurried down the hall as Kim eased the intern’s fear. The boss might not be in yet, but Megan had no intention of being anywhere near the front door when the woman did show up. Parents were visiting, which meant Roxanne’s alarms were set and waiting to go off.

Half the time they went off when Megan walked in the door.

The linoleum floor squeaked beneath her feet as she hustled down the east hall toward the classrooms with the older preschoolers. Kim’s skipping trot echoed from behind. So is this the cousin that left you in debt, destroyed your house, and made you suspicious of all men?

Megan stopped and waited for her friend at the door to her classroom. He did not make me suspicious of all men. Just all men with pasty skin, shifty eyes, a tendency to sleep all day, and stalked the night. Megan stepped into the room and snapped on the classroom lights. The glaring bulbs illuminated a room of tiny furniture. Posters lined every inch of the walls sporting cartoon characters bouncing with enthusiasm for the lessons they taught.

Kim leaned against the door jamb and crossed her arms. You haven’t dated anyone since he showed up years ago. You hardly go out at night. And you prefer the company of children to adults.

That has more to do with the parents of the children than with Clarence. You can’t tell me those people aren’t completely unhinged.

Of course they’re unhinged. They have toddlers, Kim said. Megan threw her friend a glare but was waved off with a flick of the wrist and a giant grin. See you when the madness ends.

The madness didn’t end until the sun touched the horizon. Megan puffed out her cheeks and then blew a blast of air from her lips that shot the hair away from her face. The parents only stayed for an hour, but after the children were a wild bunch of banshee’s hopped up on too much time on best behavior. Naptime consisted of twenty unexpected potty breaks, a giggling girl cabal in the corner, and a secret stash of Oreos found beneath one of the mats. At snack time she faced three blow-out tantrums, a flurry of cheese cracker crumbs in her hair, and gloppy goop, of undetermined origin, smeared across three of the chairs.

Patience for the unrivaled energy of a four year old was usually easy to find, but not today. Megan had reached her limit. For the first time ever, she saw the arrival of the parents as deliverance from a nightmare. And maybe-maybe she felt a small sense of sympathy for the control freaks.

Until she was scolded for Johnny’s dirt smeared pants. Honestly, who expects a four year old to come home with clean clothes?

With a satisfied huff, she flicked off the classroom lights and headed out. Only a few more steps to freedom. In minutes, she’d be in her car and on her way home to a much needed Friday night. After a day like today, all she wanted was a pair of comfy pajama’s, 1001 channels to choose from, and a date with her favorite guys—Ben and Jerry.

The front door opened easily and the day from hell nearly fell from her shoulders, until the director’s door opened just as her foot crossed the threshold.

Megan, would you come in here for a moment.

Punching the glass door in frustration seemed a viable option, but Megan got a grip and turned around letting the door close behind her. So much for her easy escape into the weekend.

The director’s office had the stale feel of unused air. Few staff members ventured into Roxanne’s domain and for a variety of reasons. Roxanne’s slightly off-kilter edge made most fear she could easily fall into a frothing rage. Megan had to admire the control the woman wielded over a constant boiling anger, especially when faced with screaming children and demanding parents.

Admiration yes, but it didn’t mean she liked a thing about the woman. Seated across her desk with stacks of redundant paperwork covering every inch of a thirty year old desk, Roxanne frowned at Megan. Skeletal fingers drummed against the shorter of the files, sending a few of the less stable papers fluttering to the floor. Roxanne had little patience for the failings of her staff, but refused to acknowledge her own.

Whatever the woman had on her mind did not bode well for Megan’s happy Friday plans. But she never showed fear. Predators loved to take advantage of fear. What’s up Roxanne?

Roxanne drummed her fingers a few moments more before sucking in a raspy breath. Her thin lips grew nearly invisible as her skin drew tight over sharp cheek bones. I just got off the phone with Mrs. Kribbs and she has some concerns.

Megan rolled her eyes, prompting Roxanne’s face to tighten. Mrs. Kribbs had serious issues. Most of which related to hallucinations about her husband. Her daughter Chelsea was a bright kid with sparkling eyes which dimmed anytime her mother came to pick her up. Luckily, her father was usually the one taking his daughter home.

Roxanne cleared her throat and continued, This is not something to make light of. And frankly, I do not find her accusations implausible.

From concerns to an accusation in a matter of seconds. How quickly the world shifted. Megan crossed her arms. She missed Macy Barnett, the former Director. The two glorious years Megan actually liked her job. Then Macy retired and they got stuck with the dragon.

Mrs. Kribbs is aware that you have been carrying on with her husband in an inappropriate manner. And this is not behavior we can tolerate here. It is essential the teachers maintain professionalism with parents at all times. They entrust us with their children. We must provide guidance and a safety to those children. Once we trod down the road of immorality, then trust is gone and we cannot prove to be dependable caretakers of their precious family members.

A fork lift wouldn’t be able to lift Megan’s jaw from the floor. Carrying on with Mr. Kribbs? The man was well into middle age, hair receded, and paunch effectively set in. Granted, he was a kind, unassuming man with a killer wit, but she would never...in her life…never. You’re kidding.

Roxanne lifted her chin defiantly. Great. Tried and convicted without a word in defense. You’re not even going to hear my side of the story?

And your side is?

I’ve never carried on with Mr. Kribbs. In fact, I haven’t carried on with a guy in years. I’ve been rather pathetic. I can’t even begin to think why she would say something like that. We hardly talk when he comes in. And except for the occasional joke, he is pretty quiet and I’m usually busy with the other kids.

The occasional joke? Roxanne started to drum her fingers again and Megan wondered if breaking the woman’s fingers would be grounds for firing.

He’s a funny guy.

Perhaps you should find him less funny. But it does not matter, this will still go into your employment records and I do not think I need to remind you that this is the second instance in three months that you are being written up.

Megan saw red, but she sealed her lips shut. The first write up was another misunderstanding, though far more her fault than this instance. She’d dropped a box of Lincoln Logs on her foot and unfortunately, it hit the bone in the perfect spot which broke at the slightest provocation. She’d only just taken off the walking cast, and she was a good five months away from being able to wear heels again. Not that she had much need of heels.

The broken foot hadn’t gotten her the write up though. The string of curses she’d let loose in close proximity of three kids and their parents did. Megan knew better, but really, she broke her foot. Some things should just be forgiven.

You are aware we have a three strikes policy here, Megan. It would do you well to consider whether you truly wish to teach. Some just do not have the character it takes for the business. Perhaps you might find your calling elsewhere. Roxanne looked practically giddy over the idea.

Are you firing me?

Roxanne paled. Of course not. As I said, we have a three strikes policy and you only have two.

Two. Right. And with the dragon out to get her, the third strike was just around the corner. Megan clenched her fists and kept the words she desperately wanted to say to the woman unsaid. Is that all, Roxanne? I’m exhausted.

Nonplussed, Roxanne finally stilled her fingers. Then she lowered her head and said, Of course. Have a nice weekend.

Have a nice weekend her ass. Megan flew from the room and out the front door before anything more could go wrong. She might actually have a bottle of wine to go with her bucket of ice cream. The slam of her car door never sounded sweeter. The Civic complained over her heavy handedness with the gear shift, but she didn’t care, you didn’t really have to stop before you shifted from reverse to drive. And if the car knew what was good for it, it would get her home faster than it ever had before.

Chapter 2

The truck swerved ahead before choosing the right lane. Megan zipped around the behemoth, one hand on the wheel, the other balancing the cell phone on her ear. Kim’s laughter might just cause an accident on the I-10. Her friend had the uncanny ability to laugh at just about anything, but at the moment Megan failed to see what was so funny.

Finally able to speak through her giggles, Kim said, Mr. Kribbs? I understand why you might lodge a complaint about him. But his wife thinks you are taking him seriously. That’s ridiculous.

What the hell are you talking about? Why would I lodge a complaint about Mr. Kribbs? A brand new copper-colored Challenger crawled up behind the Civic and Megan considered slamming on the brakes. Unfortunately, she only had basic insurance and they’d definitely get her for something. With the day she was having, the guy would probably have a heart attack.

It took a moment for Megan to realize her friend hadn’t answered. Kim?

Two words for you. Triple D.

Oh shut up. That has nothing to do with this. Megan couldn’t help the quick glance down. So she was well endowed. It hadn’t helped her one bit. Guys might like to look, but no matter what they said, more than a handful was too much. And if Mr. Kribbs ogled, he wouldn’t be the first. But she’d stopped noticing years ago when she realized it didn’t matter. They might like to look at the boobs, but they never stuck around to get to know the girl who had them.

All I’m saying is you’ve got a jealous wife looking for someone to blame for her husband’s wandering eye.

Yeah, well, if I had a wife like her I’d do more than wander. It didn’t matter. She’d be looking for a new job soon, even if Mrs. Kribbs wasn’t out to get her. Roxanne had her boots all but ready to kick her to the curb. You know of anyone hiring?

Kim’s tone grew serious. Not in the middle of the semester. But I’m sure something will turn up. Do you have your resume ready?

I’m not likely to get a good reference from the dragon.

No, but Macy will sing your praises and you know you can put me down as a reference too. If we have to, we’ll find you something.

Megan didn’t respond. There really wasn’t much to say. She’d put in five years at the preschool and if it weren’t for the kids, she’d hate every minute. Luckily the kids took most of her time.

Do you want me to come over? We can cry in our Ben and Jerry’s together.

What do you need to cry about? They love you there. I think the parents would strike if you ever left.

Megan could feel her friend smile across the line. Everyone loved Kim, something about her made people happy even on their worst days. Not even Roxanne found anything to complain about and the woman could find fault in a rainbow. But Kim’s voice sobered when she answered, Yeh, but it would suck without you. I have a hard enough time coping with all the crap with you there. What would I do if you were gone?

Coping? Megan wanted to laugh. You’ll be fine and it’s not like you don’t text me all day as it is, even when you’re just a classroom away.

Fine. Still, do you want company?

Company might help the impending pity party. By midnight she’d be a wreck of tears and drowning in a feather duvet ripped to shreds. At the same time, she hated sharing