The Hazards of Fame (edited)

              I scowled at the books in front of me.  Through the blue tint of my sunglasses, the names of the spines mocked me and I killed the ridiculous urge to set the shelves on fire. Book burning was a sin, I told myself and wrapped my arms around my middle so my hands wouldn’t be tempted.
         My editor and publisher promised me that my book would be coming out soon, a few days, but my anxiety was through the roof. What if it didn’t sell? What if people hated it? What if I got hate mail? More and more questions poured through my brain, circling round and round in my head until it felt like a top. I expected it to spin off of my shoulders at any moment.
          While suffering through my question induced agony, I didn’t pay attention to the people around me. So it wasn’t shocking that when a soft voice spoke up and scared the crap out of me. My breath hissed between my teeth and I jumped sideways. Acting like a cat didn’t help me, but it had been awhile since someone snuck up on me without me knowing. Being a vampire did have its good points.
         I couldn’t control my fierce scowl, but I bit back the snarl that would certainly make my intruder freak out.
         My intruder turned out to be a teenage girl. She flinched back from me, her small hands up to ward me off. I took a deep unnecessary breath and pinched the bridge of my nose between long pale fingers, a habit that I carried over from my human years and it was still effective to ward off my temper.
         After the storm had passed I opened my eyes and smiled at the girl in front of me. I was a little surprised to see her still standing there. Usually when I scared someone, they bolted at their first chance. Not that it bothered me, I told myself. The inner me snorted at my delusion.
         My appearance probably didn’t help matters much either, with the scaring people and all. I wear sunglasses. All the time. It dulls the bright gleam that vampires get in their eyes shortly after their “rebirth”, and it keeps humans from being hypnotized. Also, my eyes are a little exotic colored as well, a turquoise, like the Caribbean. I wear turtlenecks when I go outside, or at least when the sun is shining. It’s not good when you step out into the sun and start glowing like a freaking fire fly. People tend to stare. Over the turtle neck I wore a jacket with a hood. I didn’t wear anything particularly stylish, just things out of necessity. But necessity made me look a little strange when I wear sunglasses in stores or outside when the sky is cloudy. But back to the girl.
         She was a mousy thing, auburn hair curled at her shoulders and wide chestnut eyes stared back at me. Her clothes were normal, t-shirt and jeans. But what startled me was what she had clasped in her hands.
         “Are you Rainey Michaels?” Her voice strengthened with each word. When she held up the thing clutched in her hand, I found myself staring straight at a picture of myself- on a magazine cover. My ashen face stark against the ebony turtleneck and the dark tinted sunglasses. I stared in horror at the picture. It had been a publicity interview to draw attention to my book, “The Midnight.” I had forgotten that the article was in this month’s magazine. Actually, I had forgotten a lot of things once my book’s release date was in view.
         The girl’s eyes rested expectantly on my face, and I felt my body trying to work up a blush. Not going to happen, but it takes the body awhile to get used to losing some of its functions.
         “Yes,” I said and struggled to keep my voice firm. Talking to people was never something I particularly enjoyed, and less so now that I was a vampire. The instinct to hide burrowed deep in the blood and I struggled to overcome it. The girl’s face brightened and a squeal of happiness escaped her mouth. I started at the sound. What is it with teenage girls and the squealing? She moved closer, into my personal space and I resisted the urge to move back. Another instinct, self-preservation. Never let anyone close enough to know what you are.
         “I have everything you ever wrote. All your articles and short stories. Even the few pieces of poetry that you wrote.” Her voice bubbled over and I was afraid she would jump me at any moment. I glanced around to make sure she didn’t draw any attention to us. The aisle we were in was vacant, no witnesses. I took a deep breath, and remembered my literary agent’s advice. Make nice with your fans, they are the ones buying your books.
         “It’s always nice to meet a fan. What can I help you with?” My voice didn’t waver, thank God.
         The girl thrust the magazine at me. “Can you sign this?” Her enthusiasm had burned off a little, but still her small frame vibrated with excitement. When I took the magazine, she rummaged around in a purse that I hadn’t seen hanging over her shoulder. Out came a black Sharpie from the chaos and she handed it to me. I uncapped the marker and searched for a solid place to write on. The wall seemed the best option. I got the marker posed over the magazine, by my picture, when I realized I didn’t know what to write. I turned to the girl, who was close enough that I could smell her, her blood beneath the floral perfume she wore. The smell of her blood hit me between the eyes like a two-by-four. I stared at her blankly, the only thing I could do to keep the hunger twisted in my stomach. If I let the hunger show in my eyes, she might mistake that for something else.
         The puzzlement in her eyes woke me up. I forced another smile.
         “What would you like me to write?” My genial tone put her at ease and she was back to being the giddy teenage girl.
“To Amy, my biggest fan.” She beamed as I wrote what she said. Then with flourish, I signed my name underneath and handed the magazine and marker back. She squealed again after studying the magazine cover and my artistic signature.
         “Thank you so much,” Amy said gratitude evident in her tone. She paused, and then rushed forward into a question. “When is your book being released? The information on your website is a little vague.” The mention of my book brought back the rush of anxiety I had felt earlier. But a fan asking about it was good; it made me feel a little less panicked about its release.
         “The Midnight is coming out this week.” I barely got the words out before Amy went into another girly fit, this one louder than the first. I automatically looked around to make sure no one was coming to investigate the source of the racket. A few people glanced in our direction, but none looked too concerned. I tried to keep something resembling a smile on my face, but I had a feeling I failed.
         “It was nice to meet you, but I have to get going.” I said and started backing away from her with my hands held up to ward her off. I got out of the aisle before she could say anything. I didn’t run, but it was a close thing. People looked up, startled, as I hustled by. Then I hit the doors and went out into the sun.
         The sun shone high up in the cloudless sky and I closed my eyes under its warmth. My face sucked up the heat and belatedly I remembered to pull my hood up to hide my face. My skin cried at the loss of the broiling sun.
         Already, just standing a few moments in the sun had people looking at me, their pink faces perplexed. I smiled at them vaguely, before turning onto the sidewalk. I felt their curious eyes on my back, but I had to get use to it. Because I had a feeling they would follow me forever.