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No, that wasn't true; there was Susanne Mitchell, on the other shift. Sam spent lots of time hiring and
occasionally firing. "Sookie, would you have a look through the file, see if there's anyone there you know
has moved, anyone already got a job, anyone you really recommend? That would save me some time."
"Sure," I said. I remembered Arlene doing the same thing a couple of years ago when Dawn had been
hired. We had more ties to the community than Sam, who never seemed to join anything. Sam had been
in Bon Temps for six years now, and I had never met anyone who seemed to know about Sam's life
prior to his buying the bar here.
I settled down at Sam's desk with the thick file of applications. After a few minutes, I could tell I was
really making a difference. I had three piles: moved, employed elsewhere, good material. Then I added a
fourth and fifth stack: a pile for people I couldn't work with because I couldn't stand them, and a pile for
the dead. The first form on the fifth pile had been filled out by a girl who'd died in a car accident last
Christmas, and I felt sorry for her folks all over again when I saw her name at the top of the form. The
other application was headed "Maudette Pickens."
Maudette had applied for a job with Sam three months before her death. I guess working at Grabbit
Kwik was pretty uninspiring. When I glanced over the filled-in blanks and noticed how poor Maudette's
handwriting and spelling had been, it made me feel pitiful all over again. I tried to imagine my brother
thinking of having sex with this woman and filming it was a worthwhile way to spend his time, and I
marvelled at Jason's strange mentality. I hadn't seen him since he'd driven off with Desiree. I hoped he'd
gotten home in one piece. That gal was a real handful. I wished he'd settle down with Liz Barrett: she had
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enough backbone to hold him up, too.
Whenever I thought about my brother lately, it was to worry. If only he hadn't known Maudette and
Dawn so well! Lots of men knew them both, apparently, both casually and carnally. They'd both been
vampire bitten. Dawn had liked rough sex, and I didn't know Maudette's proclivities. Lots of men got gas
and coffee at the Grabbit Kwik, and lots of men came in to get a drink here, too. But only my stupid
brother had recorded sex with Dawn and Maudette on film.
I stared at the big plastic cup on Sam's desk, which had been full of iced tea. "The Big Kwencher from
Grabbit Kwik" was written in neon orange on the side of the green cup. Sam knew them both, too.
Dawn had worked for him, Maudette had applied for a job here.
Sam sure didn't like me dating a vampire. Maybe he didn't like anyone dating a vampire.
Sam walked in just then, and I jumped like I'd been doing something bad. And I had, in my book.
Thinking evil of a friend was a bad thing to do.
"Which is the good pile?" he asked, but he gave me a puzzled look.
I handed him a short stack of maybe ten applications. "This gal, Amy Burley," I said, indicating the one
on top, "has experience, she's only subbing at the Good Times Bar, and Charlsie used to work with her
there. So you could check with Charlsie first."
"Thanks, Sookie. This'll save me some trouble."
I nodded curtly in acknowledgment.
"Are you all right?" he asked. "You seem kind of distant today."
I looked at him closely. He looked just like he always did. But his mind was closed to me. How could
he do that? The only other mind completely closed to me was Bill's, because of his vampire state. But
Sam was sure no vampire.
"Just missing Bill," I said deliberately. Would he lecture me about the evils of dating a vampire?
Sam said, "It's daytime. He couldn't very well be here."
"Of course not," I said stiffly, and was about to add, "He's out of town." Then I asked myself if that was
a smart thing to do when I had even a hint of suspicion in my heart about my boss. I left the office so
abruptly that Sam stared after me in astonishment.
When I saw Arlene and Sam having a long conversation later that day, their sidelong glances told me
clearly that I was the topic. Sam went back to his office looking more worried than ever. But we didn't
have any more chitchat the rest of the day.
Going home that evening was hard because I knew I'd be alone until morning. When I'd been alone
other evenings, I'd had the reassurance that Bill was just a phone call away. Now he wasn't. I tried to feel
good about being guarded once it was dark and Bubba crawled out of whatever hole he'd slept in, but I
didn't manage it.
I called Jason, but he wasn't home. I called Merlotte's, thinking he might be there, but Terry Bellefleur
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