Theresa didn't have a car. She lived close enough to the Strip that she didn't really need one, but if she was going to change her ways she might need wheels to get from place to place. She had enough cash set to the side, both stolen and not, that she could afford a beater, something serviceable that ran decently.

And looking around for a cheap used car would give her something to do besides sulk about that twat Holly and what she said to her.

It was safely dark when she got to the gas station, having seen a notice in the paper that they had several cars for possible sale. Her money was in a cash belt under her shirt. With the mood she was in, even she could defend herself against a would-be mugger. A piece of loose gravel lodged in the tread of her left sneaker. She bent down and picked it out.

The vampire saw the sign before she saw the other brunette, and the corners of her mouth quirked upwards. It hadn't been uncommon in Hollywood to find random people doing things like washing cars, doing yard work, and taking up other tasks for extra cash. Maybe the trend was moving eastward.

"Are you between jobs too?"