When the sun started sinking over the horizon, I found myself looking toward my phone. I had called and left a message on Kent’s machine that afternoon. He had this silly greeting about leaving him a message and he’d call back . . . after dark. Mwa ha ha! It made me giggle every time. The thing was, he usually did call after sunset. I knew he was generally pretty busy all day with his band and giving music lessons, but I had noticed that as the weather got warmer and sunset came later, so did his return calls. I hoped that didn’t mean that over the summer, I wouldn’t be able to see him until ten p.m.
I’d called him because I was caught up on homework for the weekend and there was a band playing I wanted to see and thought he might like. Being caught up was a wonderfully freeing feeling, and I wanted to celebrate. I’d spent the afternoon with Ann Marie and David, drinking coffee and walking around First Avenue, then made sure to high-tail it back to the dorm to wait for Kent to call. This freedom wouldn’t last. By Monday evening, I’d be back to swamped. I swore our professors didn’t want us to have any free time at all, ever.
Sure enough, as the last of the spring sunshine melted from the sky, the phone rang.
“Hey, I thought you said the band started at eight?”
No preamble. He knew who I was, he knew what I’d called about. He got to the point.
“Yeah. Why?”
“Well, where are you, girl? I’m already drinking!”
I laughed. “I was waiting for you to call me!”
“When you’ve got the whole weekend free? I thought you wanted to get this party started!”
“I do, I do, I’m on my way, don’t start without me!”
“No promises!”
Laughing, I hung up the phone, grabbed my coat and keys and ran out the door.
By the time I got downtown, Kent had already drained two glasses of something. He loved to rub in that he was old enough to drink in public while I was barely old enough to vote. I plucked an ice cube out of one of his empty glasses, put my hand to my mouth like I intended to suck on it, then shot my hand out and dropped the ice down his shirt instead.
He yelped, his face turning first surprised, then vengeful as he grabbed my wrist. Before I could twist free, he found the ice cube and dropped it down my collar. I managed to break his grip, but the icy chunk was already lodged under my shirt, sliding on a cold path down to my bra.
“Hey, no fair, no fair!” I dug inside my shirt for the offending ice.
“Oh, Jen, it’s so good to see you!” Kent threw his arms around me, pinning both my arms to my sides. I felt the ice start melting in my bra.
“Hey! Oh, that’s going to be wet all night! You jerk!”
“But I just love you so much, I’m so glad to see you!” Kent held me still a few more seconds before letting me go.
As soon as I had my arms free, I reached down the neck of my shirt, grabbed what was left of the ice out of my bra and threw it at him.
“You started it,” he told me.
I stuck my tongue out. He kissed my cheek. I grabbed his chin.
“You think if you act real sweet, I’ll get over it. You’re wrong.” I pointed to my own face. “This is the face of a woman plotting vengeance.”
He smiled. Before I could let go of his sculpted chin, he did – something, it was fast – and I found myself held parallel to the floor with his grinning face directly over mine.
“I’m right,” he said in the low rumble that sent shivers down my spine. He knew his voice did delightfully crazy things to my innards, and he used it on purpose.
Then his kissed my other cheek and pulled me to my feet. I tweaked his nose.
“That was dirty.”
He grinned. “But effective.”
The bartender was laughing at us. When we paused in our horsing around, he leaned in to ask if I’d like a drink.
“The young lady will take a coffee, with cream and sugar,” Kent informed him.
I rolled my eyes. The bartender smiled, sharing the joke with Kent. He offered Kent another whiskey, which he accepted, and turned to get our drinks.
The band had started to set up, keyboards and drums, an electric violin and a big stand-up bass. No guitars. I hoped Kent wasn’t offended. He knew I had a tendency to pick bands I wanted to see based on the instruments they played – the more unusual, the better. Guitars were okay, but not preferred – Kent played lead guitar in his own band. I didn’t say anything, just waited to see if he noticed. He didn’t seem to.
“These guys look interesting.” He nodded towards the bass. “I’m curious to hear what kind of sound they’ve got.”
“They’re billing themselves as ‘World Gothic,’ so we’ll see.”
Our drinks arrived. As I gave him a playful sneer, Kent leaned close to my ear.
“I have some good stuff at home. Meanwhile, set your coffee on the bar.”
I smiled back like he’d said something funny, took a sip of my coffee and set it on the bar behind me. Kent was extremely subtle. I didn’t even realize he’d dumped his whiskey into my coffee until he nudged my elbow. I took a sip of my now-spiked coffee and smiled as the sharp sting tingled down my throat. I’d asked him once if he worried about getting into trouble for slipping me drinks.
“I don’t worry,” he’d answered.
He did seem strangely immune to trouble. Angry people calmed down around him, people set to reprimand him decided to back off with a polite request. We hadn’t been caught sharing drinks yet, but I had no real concerns about getting into trouble over it. Not while Kent was with me.
The band had started up and both Kent and I stopped talking to listen. It was a sound I hadn’t ever quite heard before, part techno-industrial, part world beat, part big band and swing. The beat was irresistible. Once I’d drained my coffee, both Kent and I were on the dance floor. We weren’t alone. Before long we were crowded in with a big cluster of people. At the end of the show, we shrieked for more until the band gave us four encores and then begged off for exhaustion. We applauded like lunatics when they dragged themselves off the stage. Sweat dripped down my face, even with the AC in the bar cranked up. I was overheating. Kent wiped at his face, though he didn’t look red in the face or damp at all. I had no idea how he did it. Although he did usually tend to be cold, not hot.
I excused myself to the bathroom to put myself back together the best I could. When I came out, Kent offered me his arm. We left the bar, walking out into the rain together. I closed my eyes, hanging onto Kent’s arm to keep my feet. He’d slipped me all the rest of his drinks while the band played, so I was much less steady on my feet than him at this point.
“Still in party mode?” he asked as I leaned harder on him.
I pumped one fist in the air. “Party! Party! Party!”
A few people on the street with us whooped and laughed in agreement. Kent put both arms around me as if to stabilize me, though I kept my balance just fine. He laughed.
“Are we taking the party home, or are we keeping it public?”
I thought about it. Kent had said he had some good stuff at home, which likely meant some pot or something similar. I was in a good mood now, but tired and ready for a little quiet hanging out and conversation.
“Your place.”
He laughed again. “That’s the easiest I’ve ever gotten that answer.”
I rolled my eyes, but laughed with him. I’d found out that Kent did indeed like girls too, just like I liked some boys, too. But we’d both agreed after getting to know each other that our friendship was too important to mess it up. Sex had a way of complicating things, as I’d found out after my attempted relationship with Delana. Our agreement didn’t stop either Kent or I from flirting or making inappropriate comments.
Rain spattered my cheeks. I turned my face skyward. “Remember when we first met? And you told me the rain would wash my sadness away?”
He nodded.
I hugged him. “You were right.”
He hugged me back, resting his chin on top of my head. “I’m glad.”
We stood like that a moment, savoring the night, the rain, the company. Then I squeezed him and let him go. “I’m cold.”
“Me too. Let’s get somewhere warm.”
“With food?”
“I ate already.”
I pouted. “But I’m hungry.”
He sighed. “You are a bottomless pit. But I suppose we don’t want you to starve. We can order pizza.”
I grinned. “You’re my best friend.”
“Yes I am.”
I just smiled back and let him lead me to his car.
* * *
“So I’m kind of thinking about changing my major to something more . . . I don’t know. Employable.”
I was sprawled across Kent’s couch, Kent sitting sideways in his armchair, what was left of the pizza still in the box on the coffee table. Kent had a local industrial band on the stereo and, as promised, some very good weed to share.
“Art’s not an employable major?” he asked in mock surprise.
“Well, not if eating’s on your agenda.” I sighed. “I hate to give up working on what I love the most, but I do worry about paying my own way. I’m racking up student loans. I’d rather not live in my parents’ basement and work at Starbucks to pay them back.”
Kent nodded thoughtfully. “You should just be a vampire with me and not worry about it.”
I blinked. “A vampire? Is that what you just said?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged and nodded. “I’d like to change you so we can be friends forever. Then you wouldn’t have to worry about all that stuff.”
I laughed and reached for the pipe on the coffee table beside the pizza box. “Is that why I never see you until after the sun sets?”
He nodded again.
I took a hit off the pipe and offered it to him. He shook his head. “Vampires really don’t get anything out of smoking.”
I frowned, but set the pipe on the table again. “Then why were you smoking earlier?”
“For the look of it. I hadn’t decided to tell you yet.”
I laughed. “Okay, mister vampire. Can you turn into a bat?”
He threw a pillow at me. “Don’t be ridiculous. That’s just a story.”
That was extra funny as the pot went to my head. I laughed at him until I couldn’t breathe any more, doubled up on the couch with sore cheeks. He rolled his eyes, but laughed with me. I waved a hand at him, blue-eyed blond in blue jeans and a T-shirt.
“You’re about as non-vampiric as they come. Seriously. Vampire. And I’m a unicorn.” I put a hand to my head and pointed a finger in the air, doing a horrible job miming a horn on my forehead.
Kent laughed at me. “Now that’s totally believable. Do you shit glitter?”
I stuck my tongue out. “How do you know I don’t?” I popped my ass in the air and made farting noises between my tongue and bottom lip.
Kent rubbed his chin seriously. “I don’t see any glitter, unicorn.”
I fell on my side laughing. Kent busted into giggles himself, sinking back into his chair. When the laughter wound itself down, I sighed.
“Seriously. I hate giving up on my art, but I’m going to need a real job. I wouldn’t even know what to change my major to. There’s nothing else I’m interested in like this.”
Kent listened, then shook his head. “Don’t do it. If art is all you’re interested in, then that’s what you have to do. You’ll be dead someday, and on the day you die, do you want to look back and realize that you wasted all your time on things you didn’t truly love?”
I stared at him. “Wow. That’s morbid.”
“But it’s true. If you love art, then do that. You can teach it, you can curate a gallery, you can open a gallery, you can make your own art. If that’s what you love, then you have to do it however you can. Or your whole life will be worth nothing.”
I swallowed. “What if I wind up living on the streets with no food? Won’t my life really have been wasted then?”
He shook his head. “Won’t happen. I guarantee. You have too many options for that ever to really come true. That’s a fear that’s been pushed on you to keep you from pursuing your passion. There will always be opportunities for you if you follow what you love. Don’t get me wrong, you still have to work hard at what you care about. But if you do that, if you put your time in, the rest will fall into place.”
“That sounds like hippie bullshit.”
“But you want to believe it.”
I had to nod.
Kent met my eyes with a serious gaze. “It’s true. The more afraid you are, the more you’ll pass up opportunities to do what you want because it won’t pay, or it won’t pay well, or it’ll take time away from earning money. Say yes to the things you want and figure out how you’ll make it work after that.”
I smiled. “You’re my best friend.”
“Yes I am.”
Then I laughed. “And if all else fails, I can come be a vampire with you.”
He shook his head. “No. I want you to stay with me and be a vampire with me. If you don’t want to, then you should do that other stuff.”
I blew air through my lips. “Why don’t you come be a unicorn with me?”
“Too busy being a vampire.” He leaned back with his arms behind his head.
“You are not letting this vampire thing go.”
He shrugged. “Can’t. It’s true.”
“Pssh.” I waved a hand at him. “Smoke up. Let’s chill out.”
“If you want. But I told you before, it really doesn’t do anything for me. I would have to drink your blood for it to affect me.”
I stared at him. “That’s creepy.”
He shrugged again. “Sorry.”
“What’s with all the vampire crap all of a sudden?”
He picked the pipe up and lit it, pulling a big hit off it. He offered the pipe and lighter to me. I took them and pulled my own hit, the smoke warm in my throat.
“I just wanted you to know. I want you to stay with me. But it’s a secret. You can’t tell people about it. Not anyone.”
“Why not?”
He gave me a “please” look. “Have you heard of the burning times?”
I nodded. The Spanish Inquisition. When any man, woman, child, animal or inanimate object accused of witchcraft was guaranteed to meet some sort of terrifying end.
Kent didn’t say anything else. Just waited for me to connect things in my head.
“For real?” I said. “You think that could happen again? Only with vampires?”
“That wasn’t the first time something like that happened. It wasn’t the last.”
All I could do was sit there, imagining hysteria like that breaking out in Seattle. Now. In the modern day. I shook my head.
“Just don’t tell anyone about this,” Kent repeated. “Please.”
I nodded slowly. “Okay. Sure.” I looked at the pipe still in my hands and took another hit off it.
“Sorry,” Kent said. “You wanted to chill out.”
“Yes please.”
“We can do that. You want to hear the new song I’m working on?”
* * *
We hung out and joked around and talked the rest of the night. When I started getting sleepy, Kent pulled out some blankets to let me crash on the couch. He’d never done that before, always insisting I go back to my dorm to sleep. He’d come up with whatever odd reason, and I just assumed having people sleep over made him uncomfortable.
“I’m allowed to sleep over now?” I asked.
Kent tossed a blanket over me. “Well, now that the whole vampire thing is out in the open, you know why I’ll disappear when the sun comes up and why we can’t go out for pancakes at one in the afternoon.”
The vampire thing again.
“You were out tonight before the sun went down. You called me from the bar!”
He shook his head and smiled. “I called you from here. I figured I could make it to the bar before you and make it look like I’d been there a while.”
I frowned. “This is creepy.”
He kissed the top of my head. “Then don’t worry about it. It’s not a big deal, it doesn’t change who I am. I’ll leave some money on the counter so you can take a cab to get your car and have some breakfast tomorrow. Okay?”
“Okay. Thanks.”
He smoothed the blanket over my legs. “Good night.”
I set a hand on his. He paused, waiting for what I wanted to say.
“Where are your fangs?”
He smiled. For a second I thought he was smiling at me, then I saw him raise his eyebrows. He was showing me his teeth. His canines looked like they always did. Slightly long. Slightly pointy. Not outside normal. Not like a vampire.
I raised my eyebrows back.
Kent looked slightly embarrassed. “They’re very sharp.”
“Uh-huh. Well, it’s not the size of your fangs, it’s how you use them.”
He gave me a soft punch on the arm. “Go to sleep.”
I grinned. “I didn’t mean to say your fangs are small.”
“Shut up.” Kent rolled his eyes.
“I mean, just because my canines are bigger is no reason to feel like less of a man.”
He put his hands over his ears. “La la la, I’m going to bed, good night Jen, I can’t hear you, I’ll just assume you meant good night!” And he left.
I settled onto his couch, wondered about him telling me he was a vampire, decided not to worry about it and passed out in seconds.
* * *
I didn’t get a chance to talk to Kent again for almost a week. I puzzled over the vampire thing a bit, but mostly I had classes and homework and calls to my parents and friends to hang out with, so I didn’t think about it much.
Then I found myself trying to finish some homework at one a.m. and in need of a break. I didn’t want coffee at that hour, and I didn’t want to leave my dorm room for a walk. I thought of Kent and how I missed him, thought about how late it was, and paused.
He’d always told me that he offered music lessons and had band practice during the day, and that was why he wasn’t available until nightfall. I’d always known that if I needed him at this hour, he would be there, but I would never have called just to chat at this time. But after all that vampire stuff . . .
I picked up my phone and dialed his number by memory. It rang three times, and I was feeling like a jerk and thinking about hanging up when he answered.
“Hello?”
He didn’t sound put out or sleepy. He sounded fine.
“Hey, it’s me.”
“Hey, you.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “What’s up?”
“Me, for one. You for another.” I rolled onto my back with the phone to my ear. “I need a study break. Are you busy? Sleeping? Getting ready for bed?”
“None of the above. I just came in from a quick feed and I am at your service until sunrise.”
“A quick feed?”
He laughed. “Yes. I woke up famished and had to run out and bite someone’s neck. I’m feeling much better now.”
I frowned and rolled onto my stomach. “So you’re sticking with the vampire thing?”
“Not like I have a choice any more. Once you’re bitten, you’re bitten. What are you studying?”
“No, back up. I want to talk about this vampire business. You’ve never said anything about this to me before. Why are you suddenly on this kick?”
I heard a sigh over the line. “Are you alone?”
“Yes, I’m in my room. I can hear some other people, music and talking, but I don’t think they can hear me.”
“Good enough. I’m not suddenly on this kick, I’ve always been a vampire. Well, as long as you’ve known me, anyway. I just decided to tell you because you’re my best friend and I wanted you to know. That’s all.”
That’s all. Like he was HIV positive and just wanted me to know. Kind of heavy, but nothing that would change our friendship.
“So you’re not going to try and drink my blood?”
“No.”
“You’re not going to mind-control me into being your slave?”
“No.”
“And we can’t go out for pancakes at one in the afternoon?”
Another laugh. “Not unless you want a side of fried vampire with your pancakes.”
I wanted to laugh with him, but this was too weird. “So vampires are real?”
“Whose couch did you sleep on last weekend?”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t be snotty. I mean it, vampires are real?”
“I’m real.”
I canted my mouth sideways. “I don’t know about that.”
He laughed again. “Are you dropping acid without me?”
I blew air into my bangs and let them flutter around my face. “You really don’t want to talk to me about this, do you?”
The laughter died. Silence. I waited, wondering what kind of face he was making. Wondering if I’d upset him.
“It’s not that,” he said, just as I was about to ask if he was still there. “I just don’t want you to treat me differently because of it. You’re important to me, and that’s why I told you, and it’s scary for me to be out. I want you to still be my friend.”
“I’m still your friend,” I said. “I’m just confused about all this. Why vampires? Why not, I don’t know, demons, or sorcery, or fairies? You just don’t strike me as the vampire type.”
“The Ann Rice type?”
I frowned. “I guess, yeah.”
“I’m not. I never was. Someone turned me, but that doesn’t make me a different person. I just have to drink blood and can’t go out in the sun, that’s all. Do you need to keep talking about this?”
I thought about that. Did I? I was curious, for sure, but did I need to keep picking at him? Would I treat someone with a disease or disorder like this? Probably not. I could hear him getting uncomfortable on the phone. Not impatient or annoyed, but uncomfortable. He was willing to answer my questions, but he didn’t like being grilled like this.
“Yes,” I said, “but we can do it later. I’m studying ancient art and the dates are starting to swim in front of my eyes. I just don’t care when these little carvings were left in caves, or when the Babylonians started painting walls. A long ass time ago is good enough for me. But the prof is going to want dates on the test this week.”
“Mm-hm. And it’s hard when you have no context to attach the dates to – okay, these sculptures were carved 30,000 years ago – so what? Were the pyramids around by that point, or did they come later? What were people doing when this happened?”
“Right! I have no idea when anything else happened. Is this cool, or is it ho-hum? I have no frame of reference . . .”
