Loren chatted amiably with the dark vampire, and Micah got them each a glass of blood. Then he led the teen through the glass doors and out onto a patio overlooking the ocean. He dropped into a rattan chair and lit a cigarette. The smoke spiraled upwards to disappear in the star strewn night, like a thread of silver. It made him think of another night before he'd turned into this. He could almost smell the bike shop; tires, oil, sawdust. Lo Dog, his so-called friend, stood in the doorway, using every inch of his six foot seven bulk to be intimidating. "You take that money, Micah?"
"Fuck no. I wouldn't steal shit off you. I'm not the one who fuckin' needs cash."
Dog took a menacing step closer. "What the fuck's that 'sposed to mean?"
"Why don't you ask Trick about that?"
Lo Dog's face twisted into something almost inhuman and he was suddenly in Micah's face. "What the fuck you sayin'?"