I was watching TV when Rosanna came in the front door. She kicked her shoes off and sat beside me on the sofa.

  “Did you stay in tonight?”

  “Yup.”

  “We should go out soon.”

  “We should.”

  “Since when do you watch baseball?”

  “Did you know that out of the main sports that people watch here, baseball is the only one where you can’t run out of time?”

  “Sounds like us.”

  “Exactly like us. You can be losing real bad but there’s always time to come back and win.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  “I Googled ‘Why does anyone watch baseball?’”

  “Do you know what teams these are? Is it the Dodgers?”

  “Yes, they’re playing the Cincinnati Reds. We can change it.” I started flipping channels until I landed on an episode of Love After Lockup. I dropped the remote and unclipped the diamond hair clip I was wearing and tossed it on the coffee table. Rosanna picked it up and clipped it in her hair. I looked at her and nodded. She smiled back. She’s so pretty. We looked back to the TV and sat watching. On screen a guy is waiting outside his car in front of a halfway house to pick up a girl who was just released from prison. He turns and sees another guy pull into a parking space near his, driving a “stupid looking truck” as he put it, also describing its driver as some “weenie-ass dude.” He had a nice car but I suspected in this situation, he low-key wished he drove a truck that was raised more than his rival’s. They’re there to pick up the same girl.

  Both guys had trimmed beards, wore t-shirts, jeans, and their black baseball caps turned backwards, one more crooked than the other. Rosanna commented, “The poor inmate girl has two choices but they’re the same guy.”

  Soon enough they begin flexing and arguing with each other, both wanting to mean more to the girl. “Shut up!” “Why don’t you come shut me up?” “I’ll whoop you with this box in my hand.” “You couldn’t whoop nuthin’.” “Look at you man, you’re tiny.” “Don’t you fuckin’ touch me dawg, cuz I’ll knock your puss ass out.” They’re in each other’s faces and the next thing you know, he punches the guy in the face and he falls to the pavement, out cold, end of episode.

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  Rosanna laughed gleefully at it all. I saw the humor, but couldn’t help reflect that even a girl getting out of prison has men fighting over her, weenie-ass dudes or not. I started flipping channels again.

  “Did you see Bruce tonight?”

  “Mmm hmm.”

  “He invited you out?”

  “Yes. He said he had a surprise for me.”

  “What was the surprise?”

  “He took me to Marina del Rey. Dinner cruise. Harbor lights and stuff.”

  “That sounds nice.”

  “It was romantic.”

  “Hmm.”

  “What?”

  “Why haven’t you killed him yet? Do you like him that much?”

  “He makes me really laugh. It’s like we’re laughing the whole time.”

  “Do I make you laugh?”

  “Of course you do.”

  “Just not the whole time?”

  “We laugh a lot, but it’s different.”

  “Yeah, it’s always different.”

  “Oh, Orly. What’s wrong? I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “Nothing’s wrong. You’re beautiful to ask though.”

  “Vance still hasn’t gotten in touch?”

  “He posted that pic I showed you. And he invited me to the San Francisco thing.”

  “You want to text him?”

  “Tonight, did you text Bruce or did he text you?”

  “He texted me, but that was because of the surprise.”

  “So usually you text him first?”

  “No. But I would text him if he didn’t text me.”

  “But he does text you.”

  “How many nights has it been? Three?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s nothing. You want me to kill Bruce? I’ll kill Bruce.”

  “Then someone else will text you.” I made myself laugh. Then Rosanna made herself laugh.

  “See? We’re laughing,” she said. I dropped the remote and hugged her. “I’m sure he’ll text you. Everyone just plays games.”

  I rested my head over her heart. “You don’t want to turn him?”

  “Bruce? My blood’s not nearly old enough. You know that.”

  “I know, but you don’t want me to turn him?”

  “No. It’s not that deep. He’s not the one.”

  “Then kill him.”

  “I will. When I’m no longer laughing. Is Vance the one?”

  I wrote down all that conversation just so I could get to that question. Of course he’s not. It’s too soon to know something like that. We haven’t even been intimate, emotionally I mean. We haven’t shared secrets. Could he be the one though? I don’t know that either. She asked me then if I’ve thought of killing him. I answered that I don’t need to feed, but I knew that was beside the point.

  She asked if I wanted to take a bath. So that’s what we did. She had bubble bath that smelled like sandalwood. We made each other bubble crowns and kept adding hot water until Rosanna became sleepy with the approaching sunrise.

  She’s below ground now, in her casket. I wonder if Bruce is thinking of her. Maybe wondering why she’s never stayed the night.

  There’s been three more posts on Vance’s Instagram since our photo. We’ve been pushed down a row in the photo grid. Two of the new photos are of women, one in a nice bodice. Vance isn’t in any of them.

  I think I’ll sleep in my casket too. I’m needing the comfort that comes with feeling shut in and disappeared.

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