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    Summary

    "Why does someone who can afford a private car service and that many pairs of designer boots manage a coffee shop?" one of the two women, the one with her hair dyed an unnatural red, asked her coworkers. Armand had learned none of their names. Louis liked to hire them young—Armand had never asked but he suspected some sort of public spiritedness—and they never lasted. It didn't take long for most vampires to realize they could use their gifts to effectively opt out of above board participation in the economy. Louis was a notable exception: real estate mogul, art dealer, and dabbler in a diversified set of ventures catering to the non-humans who made up the fringe, complete with a meticulous and entirely legal tax avoidance scheme.

    "Eccentric rich-person hobby?" the other woman suggested.

    Armand opened the door. None of the fledglings turned to look at him. Pathetic. He had done it quietly and dampened the chime of the little bell, but still. A vampire with any grasp of their gifts should have noticed.

    "But Armand hates managing the coffee shop," the redhead said.

    "It’s a BDSM thing," the male barista stated with unearned confidence.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
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    Chapters:
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    Comments:
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