The next morning, Roy arrived to see three other men standing around outside of the club. “Morning,” he said, raising his coffee cup in salute. They returned with the same.
“You’re a bouncer here?” asked a young kid who looked about his age, but was about a quarter of his size. Built for speed, came the thought, unbidden.
“I will be when they open.”
He smiled and held out his hand. “I’m Jake.”
“Jake. I’m Roy.”
The other two introduced themselves as bouncers also, Bobby and Butch, two lanky brothers that were older than Roy. “You’re bouncing?” Butch asked Jake, looking him over, thinking the same thing that Roy was thinking: No fucking way.
“No, I’m Bitten.”
“What’s that?” Roy asked, even though the other two nodded.
Jake turned sideways and showed him a tattoo of two black holes with oozing blood on the left side of his neck, just above the collar bone. The first thing Roy realized was that it was on the wrong side.
“The jugular’s on the other side.”
“Yeah, but he doesn’t want to ruin the tattoo.”
“He?”
The two brothers said, “You’ll find out.”
Roy wasn’t sure he wanted to.
The door opened and another man stood there. “Ah, good, a new guy. You look strong as an ox.”
“I am,” Roy said, damn proud of himself. He couldn’t climb a ladder but he could carry three of them by himself.
“Good, need one of those. We’re gonna be tilin’, boys.”
“Great,” frowned Butch.
They worked all morning, and the dark haired woman came to them, bringing them lunch herself. She wore a very tasteful dress with a purple sash at the waist. Even simply dressed, she was very pretty.
“Don’t get any ideas on her,” said Bobby. “She’s the boss’. Though he’s been known to let her pick others if she wants.”
“You’ve been here for a while?”
“About six months, enough to know what’s going on. Be wary of the boss. Talk to him when he talks to you. Don’t ever be snarky or sarcastic with him. Ever.”
“Are you all scared of him?”
“Hell no. But he gets pissed over stupid shit, man, it’s like walking on eggshells a lot of times.”
“Nice.” Roy was reconsidering. Well, he could avoid him. After all, how often would the guy be going outside to check on the bouncers?
The afternoon was a bunch of sound checks of some of the speakers one by one. They were let go at three, except Roy, who was stopped by the dark haired woman. “Roy, come back about 5:30, would you, please?”
He had planned to work until then, so he hung around a little in Steel Canyon, making window purchases with the money he was planning to come home with. He had told his dad that he got the job. His dad did some checking and would tell him about the place when he woke up that evening.
Roy went back to the bar and found the front door open. He went inside. The place was empty. “Hello?” he called.
“Hello,” said a voice, suddenly right next to him. Roy jumped, and saw Mickey standing not a foot away from him.
“Hi, uh…Anilia asked me to come back–”
“Actually, I did. I wanted to see you.” He looked him over like he was a piece of meat. Roy didn’t like that look, and backed away instinctively.
Then, suddenly, he was rooted to the spot. He didn’t want to leave. He wanted to do whatever the man said. And what the man said was, “Come with me.”
Roy followed, a puppy on a leash, as the man directed him to a corner couch. He sat down, and patted the couch next to him. Roy sat down, staring at him. “I don’t…I don’t swing that way.”
Mickey said, his voice seemed to echo into his very soul, “I’m not going to do that to you. I won’t hurt you.” Then he leaned forward, taking Roy by the shoulder, and tilted his head sideways.
Roy shuddered. He knew what was coming. He felt the pinch of something pricking his skin, like a needle, and then…bliss.
He heard someone sigh in pure pleasure, and realized it was him. He’d never done that before. He lost himself in the feeling, knowing exactly what Mickey was doing, and what he was; and not worrying about it one bit, because, after all, his father was one too.
Then, all too soon, it was over, as Mickey leaned back. He was suddenly assaulted by the most wonderful smell, of copper and chocolate. “Drink,” Mickey commanded, offering his wrist, a thick line of blood down it.
Roy licked it, and then sucked, and he moaned again. This was better than…better than what his father had given him. He hated to admit it.
The fount was taken away, and Mickey wrapped a piece of cloth around the wrist to stop it. Roy was breathing hard, barely able to focus.
“Your blood is different,” Mickey said quietly. “You’re not entirely human.”
“I’m…my father, he’s like you–”
His phone rang in his pocket. Mickey nodded for him to take it, and Roy went in his pocket, pulling it out. It was his dad. “Speak of the devil,” he muttered, and pressed the green button. “Hey, dad.”
“I found out some stuff about that place, Roy. I don’t know if you want to work there.”
“I do want to work here,” he said.
“You’re there now?” His father sounded suddenly worried.
“Yeah–”
“Are you all right?”
“Yeah–”
Said Mickey, getting up, “Tell him it’s an Elysium.”
“It’s an Elysium.”
“Oh, God, I should have known…I’m coming down there.”
“Dad, I–” but he’d hung up.
Said Mickey, “He knows who I am, too.” He shrugged. “I don’t make it much of a secret anymore. This town’s full of vampires, the Masquerade’s been broken since after the Rikti invasion.”
“You’re not a Camarilla.”
“Is your father? What’s his name?”
“No, my father’s not. He said they don’t want him.”
“Caitiff,” spat Mickey. “Stupid word.”
“Are you – what are they called -”
“Not a Sabbat. I am an anarch of sorts.”
Words: 1027.
To be continued.