A/N: So, I'm back. I can't help it, SBB just got me addicted and I've been needing a fix; so I started this little story. No, sorry, this isn't a sequel to A Stackhouse Bed and Breakfast if that's what you're looking for. But I hope you still like it all the same.

Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all rights to the Southern Vampire Series.

The fog machines were turned up way too high tonight. I don't know who told these people that it wasn't a cool club unless it had fog, but I would pay good money to have the man hunted down and intimately acquainted with the stupid machine. In all fairness, the fog is really just the cherry on this cheese sundae. The techno music and strobe lights weren't helping anything either. But the worst was probably the people. The stupid jackasses that got dressed up in their "hot" clothes and came to the club to get drunk and grind on each other; they were the worst. This is why I avoided the dance floor at all costs. I strictly kept my attentions on the booths and bar area that was less chaotic.

Unfortunately, it was also my job to make sure the DJ had a drink, should he need one. I honestly felt bad for the guy when I first met him, he had to stand there all night and watch clearly inebriated people dry hump all night. My pity for him lasted for about thirty seconds after meeting him. If the gold chain around his neck had not alerted me to his status of "douche", his mental ramblings had. He spent the whole introductory conversation trying to decide if my tits were real or not. Well, after that gem of a first impression, he was never going to know for sure. That had only been a week ago tonight.

I had not been very good at avoiding him, try as I might. He had a habit of waiting until I was conveniently close before deciding to tell one the waitresses to bring him a drink. So here I was, weaving my way through the crowd with his drink. I know we're not supposed to consume alcohol at work, but how am I supposed to respect any grown man who orders a fucking Shirley temple. It's not right.

I finally made my way behind the turntables and speakers to hand him his drink. I wish I had a sippy-cup to give it to him in. Oh well.

"Oh hey Sweets!" He had decided that was going to be his nickname for me. I'm pretty sure that he just couldn't remember my name. "I was starting to worry you'd forgotten about me." He gave me a wink before taking a sip and setting the drink down.

"Nope. I couldn't forget about you if I tried." I had tired. Not wanting to get into any conversation of length, I turned to head back to my tables. Apparently, he took this as an invitation to grab my ass. Had the slap two nights ago not been a clear indication that I did not like that? I reeled around to glare at him.

"For the love of god, Bill! I told you not to grab my ass. Stop it before I report you for sexual harassment." I was growling through my teeth and trying with all my might to not knee him in his sack. He, in turn, rolled his eyes and went back to his music.

I stepped down and went back to the bar to cool down before doing another round on my tables. Fate had other plans it seems. Pam was leaning again the bar waiting for me. I sighed and set my tray down to stand next to her and gave her a pleading look.

"I know what you're going to ask, and the answer is no." She smirked but kept her eyes scanning the room.

"Please? Just one good kick? You can dock my pay for any lawsuit or medical bills that would result." I smiled a little, knowing she would never agree, even if I was only joking…sort of.

"Sorry. I can't have my employees assaulting each other, it's bad for business." She knew the kind of guy that Bill was, because of this, she had only given me a slap on the wrist (and bought me a margarita after work) when I slapped him the other night. I guess it's too much to ask that she would turn the other cheek a second time.

"However, should you feel inspired to get on top of the bar and make out with another waitress, I believe that kind of stunt would be good for business, and therefore, would gladly condone such behavior." She finally let her eyes find my face, when they did they were shining with amusement.

Pam was an unexpected bonus of having to get a new job. True, the scrap of material that passed as a uniform here was not my ideal. . However, desperate times call for desperate measures. I would wear a chicken costume to work, so long as I wasn't working within 10 miles of Sam. It was because of him that I had to hunt for jobs in the first place, I was a testament to the rule about not sleeping with your boss. Luckily for me, Pam had saved me from a job as any kind of mascot and given me a waitressing job at her club. I hadn't known her before coming in one afternoon and begging for a job, but she had become a fast friend and entertained me to no end. She was a seductress if there ever was one. Whether she was getting you to buy more drinks, stop fighting, or go home with her, there was no saying "no" to her.

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind. I have had my eye on Felicia." I remarked just loud enough for said person to hear as she straightened up behind the bar. Pam's smile got wider. Felicia shot me a frightened expression before finding something to do at the other end of the bar. I giggled.

"Get back to work! I'm not paying you to stand here and fantasize about my bartender." Pam gave me her best 'boss look' and walked off. I did as she suggested and got back to my tables. The rest of the evening passed in a blur of beers and shots and before I realized it, I was locking up the front door as Felicia turned off the lights. Thank god we closed early on week nights. Usually it wasn't this bad, but apparently the local college had just finished finals and all the students were out celebrating.

Before leaving, I ducked into the bathroom and slipped out of my miniscule dress and into a pair of modest jeans and plain green v-neck tee. As much as I disliked the dress, I'm pretty sure my grandmother would loath it. She knew I worked in a bar, she just didn't know what the place was like; so I let her assume that it was just a regular redneck bar/pool hall like the last place. I hated lying to her, but really, it was more of a technically. I know, how coyote ugly of me?

By the time I got home, Gran was asleep and the house was dark. We lived in a cute little blue house that was in a fairly nice neighborhood in Shreveport. My grandparents had raised me and we had lived in a large farm house in a small town not too far away. However, when Grandpa Fin's health had started to fail, we'd moved closer to better doctors and into a newer house that required less upkeep. The older house had been given to my brother so it would stay in the family.

Amelia's car wasn't in the driveway, so I assumed she was still out. I wasn't quite ready to head to bed myself; I was still a little miffed about Bill and his advances. So I changed into something more comfortable and made my way into the kitchen for a midnight snack.

I've never had to go to anyone to talk to my problems before, but I figure that the same amount of therapy can be gained by dancing around in my pj's and singing along to Alanis Morissette while eating some half baked Ben and Jerry's. So that's exactly what I was doing. About halfway through the bite that was on the serving spoon I was eating with, I heard the front door close. Seconds later, Amelia walked into the kitchen. I didn't stop my ass shaking or gorging, she can just deal with it. By now she should be used to my little eccentricities. She was practically my sister, having basically spent all her childhood at my house. When she was growing up, her father had often had to go away on business. With her mother dead; she would come and live with us. Being an adopted member of the family, Amelia moved with us when we came here.

She just leaned against the door jam and wrapped the headphone cord around her mp3 player and smirked at me. She had just gotten back from her evening visit to the gym and was still disgustingly adorable and only lightly perspiring. I really need to get myself a new roommate that makes me feel better about myself.

"Aren't you going to tell me as to how much an acceptable serving size is?" I sneered at her as I took another bite of gooey brownie dough. Living with a health nut never really got to me, but I had never tried to blatantly rub it in her face before. I guess I was just walking on the wild side tonight.

"Technically, all ice cream has a serving size of one half cup." She walked over and sat down at the table, putting her feet up on the chair next to her. She kept that infuriating smirk on her face the whole time. "However, calories aren't absorbed by the female body for the first…month after a serious breakup, so eat as much as you want."

I knew there was a reason why Amelia was my best friend. I gave her a wide smile and took the seat across from her.

"Is that a fact?" I asked with a mouthful of my drug of choice.

"Yup. I read it somewhere." She leaned forward and dipped a finger into the half-empty carton and licked the small taste off before asking the inevitable.

"So, do you want to talk about it?" So predictable.

"I don't know what you mean. You said yourself this is an approved pastime after a breakup." I took another nibble off my spoon.

"True. But the ice cream hadn't made an appearance for a week until tonight. What happened? Is it still him, or did something else happen?" She lowered her legs to the floor so she could turn to look directly at me, trying to be supportive and give me all her attention. I'd gotten used to this technique in the past few weeks.

"No. Sam has nothing to do with it." I scowled down at my traitorous ice cream for getting me in this situation. "It was that stupid DJ, Bill, again." I looked up to her face to get her reaction. I was rewarded with a smile.

"Did you slap him again?" Her face was glowing with anticipation like I just told her that Santa was real.

"NO!"Apparently she saw right through my faked offense and arched her eyebrow. "Pam lectured me last time about not assaulting her staff. I didn't want to get fired so soon." I shrugged. Amelia just giggled.

"So what did he do?" She asked after she recovered her composure.

"I swear he hasn't heard a word I have said to him! I have made it perfectly clear that I do not want to 'get together' after work, ever. I have told him I'm not available. I have said that I don't want him to touch me, but somehow he interprets all that as 'please grab my ass whenever I walk away'. As if that's not enough, I get to listen to his stupid mental narrative about how great my tits are and how he'd like to…never mind." I slammed the lid onto the carton of deliciousness. I had a feeling I should save some for tomorrow night.

"Is he at least cute?" She had that smirk on her face again. I shot her a "that's not helping" look. "Fine, I'll go and let you get back to your little cope session. G'night!" She stood and made her way to her room.

I put the ice cream back in the freezer and followed her lead to head to my own room for the night. I sunk down into my covers and let all thoughts of Bill or Sam leave my mind. Going to sleep was always the best part of the day, in my opinion. It was so easy, I just let it take me.

Waking up was the hard part. My alarm was going off and I knew if I didn't get up at the usual time, I would just feel guilty later; but right now, going back to sleep sounded like a much better argument, and therefore also happened to be the one that won. Amelia, my least favorite person alive, was not so easily swayed and came into my room not five minutes after my alarm had gone off.

"Get up! You're going jogging with me before breakfast." She pulled the comforter back and smiled down at me.

"No. I'm not." I pulled the sheet over my head.

"Fine." Good girl. "But get up anyways. You'll feel better if you don't sleep in." she magicianed a cup of coffee from behind her back and started fanning the fragrant steam at my face. I pouted and took the cup while sitting up and throwing my legs over the side of the bed.

"Awesome. Now, don't forget, it's Friday, Jason is coming over for lunch." I'm sure I looked confused because she continued. "I left a note on the fridge last night. He called. He has something he wants to talk about. He didn't tell me what though." Great. My man-whore of a brother would be stopping by, no doubt to ask for money, as was the usual.

"Hey, just say no to whatever he wants and cook him an amazing lunch so he doesn't notice." She smiled on her way out of the room, already putting the ear-phones into her ears. Seconds later I heard the door slam. I contemplated laying back down. But apparently Amelia knew me too well. Just as I was leaning back into the soft mattress my cell phone buzzed on the night stand. I reached over to read the message I'd been sent…

"Get the f up or I'll hide all the chocolate you have stashed while u'r at work."

Bitch. I had a feeling that she didn't know all of my hiding places, so I could chance it. To be safe, I jumped up and headed to take a hot shower to wake me up.

A/N: Ok. There it is. The first chapter. Of a new story. How is it?

AHHHHHH!!! I don't know what I'm doing! I just have a vague outline. So if you stick with me, you might just get to laugh your ass off at how bad I can mess this up.

I could really use some reviews. Do you want me to continue or should I just give up and get a job at Starbucks so I have a more constructive use of my time?

Yes, I'm ranting and a little vulnerable and paranoid right now, its 1:55 am, I'm entitled. Deal with it.

REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!!!!!!!!!