First order of business was a bit of rearranging for best effect and to make sure there’d be no available seat for Andrew. The sofa was already against the back wall, so we moved the wingback chair directly in front of it, and the table to my right. With the sofa effectively blocked, I plopped into the chair then had to experiment with how best to sit. Legs crossed or uncrossed? If crossed, at the ankle or the knee? Hands on the chair or folded in my lap? What looked the toughest? And why the hell wasn’t there a mirror handy so I could practice my Power Zombie Consigliere expressions?

Fidgeting, I adjusted my jacket and finally settled on legs crossed at the knee, hands on the armrests. While waiting, I mentally ran over the main points I needed to touch on and reminded myself that if I fucked up Brian was there to bail me out.

How ’bout we not fuck up, ’kay?

At the sound of footsteps in the hall I quickly composed my face into what I hoped was a serene expression and prayed that I didn’t simply look half-asleep.

Andrew stepped into the room, mild scowl on his face. He’d cleaned up and been given new clothing, but his t-shirt and sweats didn’t carry anywhere near the oomph of my kickass suit. I love you, Naomi! I silently crowed.

Brian entered right behind him and closed the door, then took up the promised position behind me and to my left. Andrew clearly wasn’t happy about the demand for his presence, and the ever-so-faint whiff of rot coming from him told me he was probably a bit hungry as well. He took in the sight of me all dressed up like a real person, and a whisper of a sneer began to form. I saw the moment it registered that the furniture arrangement left him nowhere to sit, and I hid my amusement as his expression settled into a solid glare.

“Andrew, it’s so nice to see you again.” I gave him a very pleasant smile. “Brian, do we have any brain chips left? I think those might help put Andrew in a slightly better mood.” Damn, but this shit was fun.

“Yes, ma’am,” Brian said without hesitation, once again forcing me to control my expression. “I’ll get them.”

Andrew looked even more off-balance after the “ma’am” thing, which of course was part of the reason for it. Yet even if he thought it was all a show, I knew he still had to be wondering why.

“Thank you for coming,” I said as Brian strode to the door. “We need to hash out a few details before you go your own way.”

Andrew watched Brian leave then returned his attention to me. This time the look he gave me was careful and assessing, no doubt trying to figure out what the hell my role was. “What sort of details?”

“It’s hard when you’re first turned,” I said, sort of ignoring his question. “The hunger, I mean. You’ll find that you burn through the brains more quickly if you exert yourself a lot, but otherwise you’ll likely need somewhere around one brain every week and a half.” Hot damn, I got through that without stumbling!

Denial and disgust swept over his face. “I don’t want to eat a brain every week and a half. This is—” He stopped, and I had an overpowering feeling he’d almost finished with not happening. “This is not my life.”

“I know this is a really hard adjustment,” I said, keeping my voice deliberately gentle. “But you’re not alone, and you’re not without resources.” I made a vague gesture to take in the house and its occupants. Brian returned as I did, carrying a bowl of chips and a plate with what looked and smelled like marinated and grilled brain slices. He placed them on the table beside me, then resumed his position at my back.

“Thank you, Brian,” I said with a smile, then returned my attention to Andrew. “Please, help yourself. The grilled ones are really awesome.”

Andrew locked his gaze on the plate like a dog staring at a bone behind a window. He licked his lips then came back to himself with a start as he realized what he was doing. Quickly swallowing, he shook his head firmly. “No, thank you.”

I picked up one of the grilled pieces and took a small bite. “Pro tip: If you run too low on brains it’s harder to think straight.” I licked my fingers and tried to be dainty about it. “Probably smart to have a snack before any sort of negotiation.” I waved toward the plate again in a help-yourself move, then finished off the piece in my hand.

Unable to resist the smell any longer, he moved forward and took a slice, then one more before stepping back. His hands shook slightly as he stuffed a piece into his mouth, relief and despair shining in his eyes.

Taking a napkin and wiping my fingers, I waited for him to finish the two slices before I spoke again. “I usually budget a brain a week for basic maintenance and to keep from smelling like a corpse.” I laughed softly. “I’m thinking you don’t want bits falling off in the board room.”

He looked appropriately horrified. “A brain . . . a week.” He dipped his head in a reluctant nod.

“You’ll want to have a stash of more on hand, though,” I continued, “in the event of injury or unexpected exertion. Or sex.” I grinned. “Trust me, you definitely want to have a bit of a snack before sex.”

Andrew made a gasp-choke sound in the back of his throat and turned sixteen shades of red.

“Allrighty then, we’re looking at a brain a week,” I plunged on, mostly because I was afraid if I didn’t keep talking I’d bust out laughing at the shock on his face. “And probably, hmm, three or four brains up front as well for a stash. Does that sound right to you?”

His mouth worked soundlessly.

“That’s a good start, ma’am,” Brian put in helpfully.

I turned my head to give him a bright smile. “Thank you, Brian.” He really did look intimidating as all hell standing there behind me. I could get used to this. Returning my attention to Andrew, I put on a slight wince. “I’m sorry, I’m sitting here blathering on and assuming that you want to get your brains from us. You got someplace else you can get ’em?”

He was trapped and he knew it. No way could he get brains from whatever source the lab used since there was too much chance he could be found out. Perhaps he could locate an alternate supplier at some point, but for now—and probably the next few months—he was well and truly stuck.

He cleared his throat, resignation settling on him like a lead blanket. “No, I don’t.”

Though I did a mental fist pump and happy dance, I kept my face as serene as possible. “Very well.” I paused and kept my eyes on him for several seconds while I let the silence hang in the air. “What do you offer in exchange?”

Even though he had to have known it would come down to this, he was still off-balance enough from everything else that he couldn’t hold back the small shoulder slump of defeat.

Tags: Diana Rowland White Trash Zombie Fantasy
Source: readsnovelonline.net