Joe Vampire

1

Vampires. As far as I’m concerned, the books and movies have got it all wrong. I’d go so far as to say they’ve ruined it for the undead altogether. If fiction had its way, they’d lead you to believe vampires are all inhumanly attractive and sparkle in the sun. That, or they’re brooding Parisians who are tortured by their dark past while secretly yearning for an eternal love; the final alternative being to become a monster unable to sate their unquenchable thirst for blood.

The reality is neither so glamorous nor dramatic as fiction would lead you to believe. Don’t misunderstand me; I’m not saying vampires aren’t attractive, or broody or monstrous. They are simply not the creatures their fans make them out to be. At least, not the vampires I’ve met.

My name is Dawn, and I was a self-proclaimed vampire fangirl until I actually met one. I had considered myself an expert on the subject of vampires and their media personifications, but my perception changed completely after finding out that the truth really is stranger than fiction.

He wasn’t like Lestat or Edward. Women didn’t fall over themselves to be in his company, though he certainly caught the attention of a few. To this day, I’m not sure if it was natural looks or a kind of vampire magnetism. That is something the books have right: charisma. Vampires have definitely got it in spades. I think if you’re charismatic enough, people can be led to believe just about anything you want them to. They want to believe what you’re saying. They want to like you. In the books, the vampires would be naturally enthralling, but in reality, they are just really good salesmen. Their product being themselves. He was definitely charismatic, charming even, in that arrogant, confident sort of way. The sort of guy that had no problem picking up a girl at the bar or on a dance floor. He was completely comfortable in any surrounding, and that sort of confidence can be attractive.

I’d never seen him before, but that didn’t mean much. Too many people drift in and out of nightclubs, and even owners struggle to remember frequent patrons. I was both an owner and a frequent patron. In truth, the club was owned by my very good friend, Nichole, but I held stock in the company and technically owned 15 percent of the business. Mostly, I just hung out on Fridays and Saturdays and worked as a liaison to the bands and special acts we would have on occasion once Lawrence booked them. Lawrence was another owner. There were four of us in total, each owning 15 percent, except Nichole who held the majority 55 percent. Nichole had never seen him before either, and she was good at remembering faces; especially handsome ones.

“You should go say hi,” she whispered and slid me a drink with a little sword and cherry in it. I looked up suddenly and blushed.

“Um, no. Sorry, I haven’t had that many drinks yet, Nick.” I said, sipping the sweet alcohol. “Besides,” I gestured to the stranger where he had slid up behind a leggy blonde on the dance floor. “It looks like his dance card’s already full.” I laughed and pulled the little cherry off the sword skewer between my teeth. Nichole’s eyes followed mine out to the dark stranger. I couldn’t tell his height from this distance, but he wasn’t short, of that I was certain. His hair was just long enough to be a little unruly, but short enough that a quick hand through it would be enough to tame it back. It was the color of dark chocolate or espresso beans. Dark without being black. I knew his eyes had to be light, not brown, but it was impossible to know without being up close. If vampires are supposed to be pale like alabaster, then I’d have never pegged this guy for one. Not that he was some bronzed Adonis or anything; just that his complexion was like that of every other healthy man walking around. He didn’t look pale or sickly. There was no trace of glowing or sparkly skin. He just looked like every other good looking guy in the place. Nothing out of the ordinary.

“You’re staring,” Nichole announced, breaking me from my trance. Like I said, just like every other good looking guy in the place. Right? “If you won’t go talk to him, I will.” She mused.

Nichole could have had any guy she wanted. She was petite in the way that guys liked. A woman that appeared to need a man to save her. Her waist was small, her breasts and hips voluptuous for her frame. She had perfect hair. The kind that was the color of warm chocolate and spun in large natural curls down either side of her heart-shaped face. Her eyes were large, dark pools and she was always expertly made-up. The only thing was, Nichole preferred girls, but that had never stopped her from getting a guy to buy her a drink, and there was usually a line of drinks waiting for her each night.

She took a final swig from her glass and smacked her lips before sliding off the bar stool. I shook my head as she headed down into the recessed floor and all its pulsating bodies. For the most part, the leggy blonde and Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome had stayed on the outer edge of the dance floor, so it was easy to watch Nichole work her magic. She sauntered over to the couple, feigning off a few come-ons along the way. Even in her stilettos, she was much shorter than both the man and woman, but it hardly seemed to matter. She was quick to assert herself into the couple’s dancing, her eyes shining as she smiled at the guy and no doubt bewitched him. I couldn’t make out what was said, or even guess, but a moment later she was headed back with a look of frustration blatant on her face. She shrugged and climbed back onto the stool next to mine.

“Can you believe that?” She asked. “Apparently, he only buys drinks for sluts.” She hissed and motioned to the bartender on duty to pour us another round.

I grinned. “What? The great and powerful Nichole shot down? Say it ain’t so!” I laughed and she frowned.

“Bitch,” she muttered, but her tone made it almost an endearment.

My eyes traveled back to the dance floor as the music changed along with the overhead lights. The couple was nowhere to be found and Nichole’s voice drifted over the sound system. “Probably went to find a dark alley.” She’d never admit it, but I think her pride had been wounded.

It would never have occurred to me that this man who waved Nichole off like a common floozy would turn out to be a member of the undead. There were no immediate red flags, but then again the literature dictates he would have been a little more obvious.

I probably wouldn’t have thought of him again if not for finding the leggy blonde in a heap in the ladies room. She seemed drunk and confused. A few girls were muttering something about a date rape drug being slipped to her while others were commenting on the massive hickey on her neck.

I pushed my way through the throng of concerned women and knelt beside the blonde. “Are you alright?” It was the appropriate question, even if the answer was obvious. She blinked a few times and seemed to have difficulty focusing on any one person. She just nodded and fought to orient herself. “What happened?” I asked, helping her to sit up better. “Did someone hurt you?” I’d seen her with the stranger on the dance floor, but that didn’t mean he’d been with her between then and now. It was certainly a good place to start, but she struck me as the type who found herself face down in a bathroom stall on a regular basis. Still, the “hickey” on her neck was more of a bruise than anything. It was all sorts of reds and purples, but as I caught a glimpse of it in the overhead lights I noticed the faint imprint of bite marks. Now, my brain didn’t immediately scream vampire attack, because that would have been silly, but I can’t say the thought didn’t cross my mind.

Rather than ask the woman such a ludicrous question, however, I just said, “I’m going to call an ambulance.” I started to stand, but the blonde grabbed hold of my arm suddenly.

Her eyes were still unfocused under the heavy lids, but she mumbled, “No doctors…” before slipping back out of consciousness.

I frowned, but said aloud, “Then I’ll call you a cab.”

Being in a club bathroom is always a little like being in a vacuum. The heartbeat of the club can’t seem to fully penetrate the confines of a restroom and when you reenter the pulse of lights and music it can be disorienting. I moved through the dimness of the club and toward the nearest bar. Without so much as a word to the bartender on duty, I slipped behind the counter and made my way to the phone located beside the register. I may not have been at the club as much as Nichole, but the staff still knew who the owners were. I called a local taxi service we kept on file and then let a couple of our security guys know what was going on. A few girls were helping the blonde out of the bathroom when our bouncers came to lead her outside.

“What the hell happened?” Nichole asked as she slipped up to the bar. I came around to the customer side of the counter and sat next to her.

“Not a hundred percent on that one. That blonde from before was passed out in the ladies room. I called her a cab.”

Nichole made a frowning face. “The one with slut magnet guy?” She asked; agitation plain in her voice.

“The same one.” I shrugged. She shook her head and slid off of her barstool. “Where are you going?” I asked.

She was already heading toward the door when she called over her shoulder, “To make sure she’s alright before she leaves. Don’t want any bad press.” And she was gone. I couldn’t blame her. The place was her baby, and she wanted to see it was a success. Even though, in the years since the economy tanked, we had flourished as a business.

We’d had the grace to buy when the market was great for buyers and the city was trying desperately to revive downtown. The building was beautiful and full of southern colonial charm smack in the middle of one-way streets and towering office buildings. It had once been a bank way back when, but something about it appealed to the locals and we’d been a hit ever since. We’d named the place, Vamp, but only in the double entendre sense. Considering it meant to both remake something old and a seductive woman, it seemed rather fitting for our little club. It was just ironic that I actually met a real life vampire inside it.

“Everything alright?” I barely heard the voice over the music, but I turned toward it while answering.

“Yeah, just averting a crisis,” I said nonchalantly; my eyes searching the bar for the face to go along with the question. I felt my brow furrow at the man asking from a seat at the corner of the long bar counter. It was the one from the dance floor. The one that had been with the blonde before she had her incident, or maybe who had caused the incident in the first place.

“Well, that’s good to hear.” He said a little smugly, or maybe I just interpreted it as smug. He sure looked smug.

Up close I could see the finer details of his face. If I’d thought he was handsome before, I was upping the ante to just this side of gorgeous now that I’d gotten a better look. His eyes were pale blue, like a winter’s sky. Dark hair fell around his face like some sort of perfect, unruly mess. There was just the barest hint of a 5 o’clock shadow across the square jaw and the icing on all that beefcake was a smirk that said everything and nothing at all.

“Um… weren’t you just dancing with a blonde girl a little while ago?” I asked and I couldn’t keep the suspicion from my voice. He looked thoughtful while he took a sip of his drink. It looked like scotch.

“Sure, I danced with a few blondes tonight.” I felt my face twist into something ugly. This guy was too much. I pursed my lips together in my best ‘give me a break’ expression.

“Well, you wouldn’t have had anything to do with the one that just collapsed in the ladies room, would you? You know, the one who’d been slipped a date rape drug and had the world’s most disgusting hickey on her neck?” My tone sounded accusatory and I meant it to.

The guy almost laughed into his drink. It was a wide flash of perfect, white teeth. It made his top lip curl ever so slightly and held mischief, like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar. It was a good smile.

“I didn’t drug her and the bite will fade in a few days.”

I felt my eyes bulge a little at his blatant admission. “Excuse me!” I took an involuntary step toward him, pushed by my outrage. He looked pleased and shook the ice cubes around in his glass in a motion for the bartender to refill it.

He smirked as he asked me, “Can I buy you a drink?” It was one of those looks that could stop a woman in her tracks. The sort of dark, smoldering smile that said he knew you wouldn’t say no. I’m sure it had worked on a lot of women. Maybe if the conversation had been about anything else, it would have worked on me too. As it was, this guy had just admitted to biting one of my patrons, and his sexy little smirk fell flat.

“No, but you can tell me why I found one of my patrons on the bathroom floor, dazed and confused and apparently bitten by you,” I demanded as I took the seat next to him. I made a mental note of where the exits were and where my security staff was at that moment. I figured this guy wouldn’t exactly stick around if I needed to call the cops on him.

He waited for his glass to be refilled before speaking again. The ice clinked in the squatty glass as he swirled the liquid around to cool it faster. “Because, I was hungry, she was there, I bit her, drank her blood until she passed out, and then compelled her not to remember. Oh, and not to ask for a doctor.” He said it as casually as you would discuss the weather. I felt my mouth falling open in a little ‘o’. He shrugged. “I’m a vampire, sweetie.”

That was it, the nail in the proverbial coffin and I couldn’t stop the laughter from bubbling up my throat. “Seriously?” I stared at him, completely flabbergasted. “Is that your lame way of picking up chicks? I mean, do you actually believe it works?” I couldn’t stop myself from sounding astonished. It was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever heard, and I actually liked vampire fiction. The thing was, I’d have expected to hear something like this from a guy who wore too much eyeliner and secretly still lived in his Mom’s basement.

I slapped my hand down on the bar and shook my head. He turned his eyes back to me and was wearing that smirk again. It was a good look for him, but now all I could think about was him trying to take a bite out of this blonde woman and talking in a bad Bela Lugosi accent.

He set his glass back down on the bar and gave me another little shrug. “You don’t believe me.” As if that wasn’t the understatement of the year. I just shook my head. He nodded and then his expression changed.

I barely noticed that smirk fall apart before his hand moved. I hadn’t actually seen it move, but it was just suddenly gripping my wrist where my arm was resting on the counter. Instinct tore a little gasp from my throat as his fingers clamped around my wrist. I tried to jerk it away, but there was no moving it. My left hand came up in a feeble attempt to pry his fingers loose, but he simply clasped hold of that one and used it to leverage himself closer. I opened my mouth to shout for help when he leaned in so that our faces were only inches apart.

“Scream and I’ll break your arms. Call for help and I’ll kill whoever comes before they ever get close enough.” My eyes widened. The smirk was back on his face as we made eye contact and I wasn’t completely sure what he was trying to prove, but I got my answer as I watched the pupil bleed away into the pale blue of his irises and into the whites of his eyes so that it filled them with blackness. “Still skeptical?” He asked, voice low, meant only for me to hear.

My gaze immediately moved to his mouth as he spoke, looking for the obvious. He must have noticed because he smiled, ever so slightly, mouth opened enough for me to see that his canines were indeed longer than they had been only moments before.

Finally, I shook my head in response and he seemed satisfied with that because he let go of my wrists and went back to his drink. “Now, where were we, oh yeah, I was telling you how I chewed on the blonde in the bathroom. Don’t worry; a little OJ and sleep and she’ll be fine.” The smugness had returned to his voice as well.

When he glanced back my way his eyes were once again the pale blue he’d arrived with. I only realized I’d been staring when he finally said, “Well? Say something? I just told you I was a vampire for crying out loud.”

“I think I’ll take that drink now.” My breath eased out in a trembling sigh. “What do you want me to say? I thought vampires weren’t supposed to go around telling everyone what they are?” I asked. I was trembling ever so slightly, but swallowing my fear as best I could. After all, it didn’t seem wise to go running for the hills just yet. He had threatened bodily harm and the death of my security personnel.

He shrugged. “I didn’t tell everyone, I told you.” He made it sound so simple, as if that should have made perfect sense to me.

“But isn’t there some sort of big ole vampire council or something to kill you if you tell humans what you are?” I was pulling from various sources on that one, but it seemed to be a common theme in a lot of books. He made a face that said clearly, I’d read too many books.

“I take it you’re a fan?” He sounded amused.

I felt my cheeks getting hot as I blushed. I was rubbing my wrists where they ached; the sensory memory of his hands around them still fresh on the skin. “Sorry, it’s just… well, obviously it’s not every day I meet a vampire.” Suddenly, I had a million questions and since it didn’t seem like Mr. Vampire planned to eat me in front of the bartender, I decided to press my luck. Maybe it was all the pop culture that kept me from being afraid, but in that moment, I was anything but.

He gave me a sideways look and chuckled. Reading my thoughts, he said, “Ask away.”

“Sunlight?”

“Burns.” He took a sip of his drink.

“Wooden stakes?”

“Hurt.” He said mildly.

“But if you got stabbed through the heart would it kill you?” I asked eagerly.

He rolled his eyes. “Would it kill you?”

I nodded thoughtfully. “Point made. What about silver?”

“That’s for werewolves.”

“Holy objects? Crosses? Holy water?” He just shook his head. “Can you fly?”

“Can you?”

I sighed, “You’re not exactly giving me a lot of answers here. I mean, why bother to show me what you are if you didn’t want me asking questions?”

He finished his drink and scooted the glass a little away from him. “Boredom, I guess.”

I frowned. I had a lot of questions, but it didn’t seem like he was going to give any real answers. “How old are you?”

“Old.” He quipped quickly.

“You are the worst vampire I’ve ever met!” That earned me a bemused smile.

“You’ve met a lot of us? Didn’t seem like you’d ever seen one five seconds ago.”

I shrugged. “Well the ones in books and on TV are a hell of a lot more interesting than the real thing, I can tell you that much.”

“Really?” He seemed genuinely confused. I just nodded. He made a face and I was beginning to think that all his expressions looked rather nice. Nothing really screwed his face up where it didn’t look attractive. The moment I thought it, I wondered if it was some sort of vampire mind trick. Then I instantly felt like a fool. “Alright…” he said a little exasperated.

I looked at him and felt my brows knit together. “Beg your pardon?”

He turned more toward me on the bar stool and wiped his palms off down the thighs of his jeans. “Super speed, hearing, smell, sight, all to a point. Nothing too comic bookish. Just heightened senses. We drink blood, don’t have to kill people for it, obviously, although that can be more enjoyable.” I must have given him a look because he threw his hands up in a ‘don’t shoot’ gesture and said, “Hey, you asked.” I nodded and let him continue. “The sun sucks, but there are ways to get around it and before you even ask, I’m not going there. We don’t automatically go hide in a coffin when the sun rises. I happen to sleep in a bed.” I suddenly had a mental image of Mr. Vampire in a bed. It wasn’t a bad image.

He went on to debunk a few cliché’s but remained vague enough that I never felt like I got any solid answers. We talked, mostly about him, until the club had thinned down to mere echoes as last call came and went.

We were still sitting at the bar and he frowned as he looked around at the empty club and said, “Looks like they’re going to kick us out.” I laughed, oddly comfortable now that we’d been talking for hours. Conversation can do that; make you put your guard down.

“They can’t kick me out; I’m one of the owners.” He seemed to like that because he flashed me a grin I was beginning to get sweet on; one that crinkled the edges of his eyes ever-so-slightly and was deepened in the curves around his mouth. He had several smiles, but this one, I’d decided, was my favorite so far.

His face sobered and he sighed. “You know I can’t have you telling anyone about me, right?”

I felt my pulse leap into my throat. I nodded a little too fast and said quickly, “Of course not, besides who’d believe me? Hell, I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Joe.”

“Joe?” I couldn’t keep the surprise out of my voice.

“Joseph if you want.” He gave a little shrug. “I take it you were expecting something more exotic?”

I felt myself blush again. He was right. I had been anticipating something like Arturo or Xavier or even Pierre. At least something foreign-sounding. Unless you were from Bon Temps, vampires tended to sound a little more regal. Joe was just so… so… Joe.

“Well, Joe, I promise not to tell anyone that you’re a member of the undead and drink the blood of silly blondes.” I smiled, but when he didn’t smile back, I quickly schooled my face. His expression seemed almost wistful and when he leaned closer, I felt a little thrill of excitement grip me right in my gut. He got closer, like, ‘I’m going to kiss you’ close, but stopped when we were perfectly eye level, but definitely too far away for a kiss.

“I know you won’t because you’re not going to remember any of this.” He said it like it was a line he’d practiced for years. I felt a frown shaping my face when I noticed the pupils of his eyes narrow to pinholes in those palest of blues. “You will not remember any of our conversation here tonight.” I started to say something but held my tongue. His voice had gone all eerily monotone, like a hypnotist. “You remember helping the blonde get a taxi and then you just enjoyed a few drinks at the bar.” It took me only a split second to realize he was using some sort of vampire compulsion on me. The only thing was, it wasn’t working. I tried to digest that notion without letting it show on my face. “Close your eyes.” He commanded softly, and I had two choices; let him know that it wasn’t working and risk him having some sort of vampire freak out where he could potentially kill me, or play along. I chose what I thought to be the intelligent choice.

I closed my eyes.

“You will forget me and when you open your eyes you will decide to call it a night and head home.” I could smell the scotch on his breath, but I could also smell the musky sweetness of his cologne.

I didn’t hear him shift, but when he spoke again, his voice was in my ear and I had to still my knee-jerk urge to jump out of my skin. “Open your eyes.” I did as he instructed.

Joe the vampire was nowhere to be seen. The overhead lights had come on in the club signaling for the lingering stragglers to pack it in for the night. Vaguely I wondered if he was watching me from somewhere unseen. Just in case I did as he instructed and headed for the doors and my car. I managed to tell Nichole I was leaving for home and didn’t look back as I left. I couldn’t help but wonder why his compulsion hadn’t worked on me, but it barely seemed to matter. I really couldn’t tell anyone without sounding like a fruity nutcake. Who could believe that I’d just met a vampire? Joe Vampire.