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friends expect nothing from you. That’s what made them so terrific.
    “Get out!” I had to admit, I was intrigued. How did a hundred-and-fifty-year-old vampire celebrate a birthday? The standards (Sky Zone Indoor Trampoline Park? Water Park of America? Chuck E. Cheese?) were probably out. Midnight bowling, maybe? Midnight golfing? “How old is she?”
    He grinned and carefully tucked the bottle away. “I asked, and got the ‘a lady never tells and a gentleman never asks’ speech.”
    “And you reminded her you were all the way around the world from being a gentleman?”
    “Didn’t have to; she already knew. Anyway, it’s no secret she loves vodka, even if why she loves it is .”
    I nodded. It was a mystery, because as I said, nothing slaked a vampire’s thirst but blood. Anything else was at best a waste of time and at worst just made the thirst worse. That didn’t stop Tina from hoarding vodka like Smaug hung on to gold and oh my God, I just made a Hobbit reference. I had to stop watching TV with Marc. Like, now. Right now.
    But back to Tina and her vodka hoard . . . I figured it had to be something from her old life, something that reminded her of better, simpler times. Or maybe she just really liked vodka. “It’s a great present, but she’s gonna freak a little. She’ll know how much it costs. And if she doesn’t, she’ll find out pretty quick. She’d want you to save your money.”
    “Why?”
    I opened my mouth but nothing came out—rare! It took a few seconds but I finally managed. I hadn’t been prepared for Marc not to know why he shouldn’t blow wads of dough on booze for dead Southern belles. “Why? Because . . . because it’s your money. I mean, it’s—you earned it. You should hang on to some of it.” When that didn’t seem to be getting through, I added, “Uh, right?”
    He gave me the saddest smile I’d ever seen on his open, friendly face. “What am I going to spend it on?” he asked quietly. “A wife? Children? A mortgage? Retirement savings?”
    I opened my mouth again.
    Don’t make a stupid joke don’t make a stupid joke do not make fun of this do not make a joke to hide the fact that you suddenly feel guilty and awkward.
    I closed my mouth. Took an unnecessary breath. Then added, “You quit your job.”
    “Sure.” He was nodding. “I couldn’t risk going back to the ER. Someone was eventually bound to notice I was dead.”
    I nodded back. That was definitely the risk you took when you worked with doctors and nurses and EMTs. He hadn’t even gone to give notice in person. Just called up his boss and gave her the “family emergency” line. Which wasn’t a line, come to think of it. Dying was definitely a family emergency. At the least, it should be a get-out-of-jail-free card.
    “Okay, so you’re—uh—not earning right now.” It wasn’t as much a problem as it would be for a regular dead person. But Sinclair didn’t charge him rent—didn’t charge any of these freeloaders rent and it was just now occurring to me that I’m technically a freeloader so I’m not going to make a fuss—although Marc regularly contributed to the smoothie fund. When he wasn’t in scrubs he lounged in old jeans and various tattered T-shirts; he was like a gay . . . a gay . . . I couldn’t think of the word that meant the opposite of cliché, but that was what he was. No mincing, no hair products, no reality television. He had a crush on Benedict Cumberbatch, but who didn’t? Shit, I had a crush on the Batchman; Marc and I were proud Cumberbimbos. So Marc’s expenses were low, but still. “So that’s maybe a good reason to save your money?”
    Marc shrugged off my nosy concern. “I’m earning. Tina set up a WebMD kind of thing for me. Patients can contact me through the Web page to ask me things, and I diagnose online.”
    What a terrific way to get sued. “Okay.”
    “She’s also offered to put my name out there for off-the-books medical care.”
    What a