Andrew Fox - Fat White Vampire Blues

“Jules! Don’t leave me!”

He didn’t look back. He grabbed his trench coat from the rack, then winced as he flung it around his shoulders. He nearly tore the door off its hinges getting out of the room.

“Jules! Come back!Jules! ”

Her plaintive screams followed him into the hall. His thighs rubbed against each other like poison-coated sandpaper as he stumbled toward the stairs. Every last quivering part of him burned with the fires of hell. Especially the part that had gotten him into this mess in the first place. It’d be a long,long time before his little head was in any shape to give the rest of him orders again.

Served the little bastard right,Jules imagined Maureen hissing as he limped into the darkness of Barracks Street.Served the boiled little bastard right.

Doodlebug’s flight, the red-eye from San Francisco, was already two and a half hours late. The Delta terminal’s coffee stands had all closed long ago. Glum, sleepy, and surly would-be greeters were sprinkled throughout the waiting area, which had been fitted with plastic seats that were reasonably comfortable if judged against the standard of medieval torture devices. Worst of all, Jules’s body felt like a throbbing wad of gristle.

For the hundredth time in the last five minutes, Jules shifted position in a futile effort to achieve a modicum of comfort. Successfully concealing the rashlike physical evidence of his latest misadventure from Maureen had been a minor miracle. He wondered if that miracle would last another night.

At last, the lights of an approaching jetliner flashed through the terminal’s windows. Like zombies crawling from their graves, the greeters bestirred themselves, rose from their seats, and shuffled toward the gate. Jules joined the bedraggled procession. He tried hard to convince himself that Doodlebug’s visit would have its positive aspects, but the only one his flailing mind could grasp was that Maureenmight harangue him slightly less while his ex-sidekick was in town.

The first passengers to exit the tunnel were three teenagers, all struggling under the weight of overstuffed duffel bags. One was a brown-haired boy about the same age as Doodlebug had been when Jules turned him. It’d been years since Jules had seen his onetime sidekick; could this be-? No; the boy was immediately scooped into the arms of a gaggle of relatives and dragged toward the luggage retrieval.

The jetliner continued vomiting out passengers-tourists in lewd T-shirts, ready for Bourbon Street; businessmen with their copies of theWall Street Journal; purple-haired grandmas toting giant stuffed bears. Jules began to wonder if maybe Doodlebug had missed his flight. Wouldn’tthat be the kicker! But then one of the deplaning passengers hooked Jules’s interest. This one was a real stunner. Skintight red mini dress; long auburn hair that looked good even under the ghastly fluorescent lights; big gorgeous blue-gray eyes; slender hips; and legs that would flatter a Parisian runway model. Way too skinny to be Jules’s type, but he still could appreciate her from a purely aesthetic point of view.

Surely a classy, upscale babe like this would have some Cary Grant-type investment banker waiting to pick her up. She looked a little dazed coming off the plane. She blinked rapidly in the bright, evil light and searched the crowd for a familiar face. Then she turned his way. Her eyes brightened with recognition. She waved. She wasn’t a she after all.

Oh shit.

“Jules! Sorry I ran so late! There was a hang-up at the Denver airport. I tried phoning from the plane, but no one answered at Maureen’s.”

Yeah, it was Doodlebug, all right. Despite the pricey dress, the high heels, and the perfectly applied makeup, Jules recognized the tiny cleft in the middle of his delicate chin. And his voice hadn’t changed-it was still the same high-pitched, prepubescent voice the kid’d had the night Jules interfered with nature and permanently halted his growth and physical maturation.

“Hey, partner! It’s so good tosee you!” Doodlebug said as he enthusiastically embraced the much bigger man. Doodlebug’s strength, ten times that of a normal man, belied his slight frame. Jules’s ravaged skin didn’t take the hug kindly.

“Gahh! Jeezus! Leggo, will ya?”

Doodlebug immediately backed off, his face marked with concern. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

Jules unsuccessfully tried stifling a grimace of pain. “Nothin‘. Let’s go.”

“Are you hurt? Maureen told me about the trouble you’ve been in-”

“It’snothin‘, okay? Let’s go pick up your luggage.”

“I express-shipped it all ahead. Everything’s waiting for me at the bed-and-breakfast. Clothes, coffin, everything.”

“Then let’s get the hell outta here. These fuckin‘ lights are makin’ me sick to my stomach already.”

Jules muttered hardly a word on their walk to the Lincoln. He didn’t speak on their drive out of the parking garage either, aside from demanding that his passenger pay the five-dollar parking fee. Seeming to sense Jules’s volatile mood, Doodlebug wisely kept his end of the conversation to a bare minimum. He commented briefly on the humidity and on the improvements to the airport since his last visit.

Only after they turned onto Airline Highway did Jules begin to talk. His voice was flat. Harsh. “Let’s get one thing straight before I drive another block. You’re only here because Maureen insisted. I don’t want you. I don’t need you. No matter what Maureen says,I’m the one in charge. You help me, or if you can’t do that, you stay outta my way. Got it?”

Doodlebug folded his perfectly manicured hands on his lap and responded in a calm, agreeable voice. “Perfectly.”

“Yousure? There ain’t no room for negotiation on this.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way. It’syour life that’s at stake… yourun life, actually. Ofcourse you’re the one in charge. You’re the responsible party here, partner.”

Jules had steeled himself for an argument. Now he felt like a man who’d gotten a running start to knock down a door, only to have it flung open in his face at the last second. “Well, okay, then. Just so long as we got that straight.”

They continued driving east along Airline Highway, a cratered four- lane road surrounded by rent-by-the-hour motels and bars barely hanging on to their liquor licenses. Jules was in no big hurry to get back to the Quarter, but Maureen had insisted that he bring Doodlebug to see her at the strip club as soon as he got in. He turned the air conditioner up a notch and unbuttoned the top four buttons of his shirt, hoping the cool air would soothe his burning chest. Doodlebug immediately noticed the inflamed color of Jules’s skin. He reached up and switched on the overhead dome light to get a better look.

“Those look like pretty bad burns,” Doodlebug said quietly. “How did you get them?”

“None of your damn business,” Jules grumbled.

His passenger pointed to a brightly lit storefront across the street. “There’s an open drugstore. Swing around and pull in there. I’ve seen burns like yours before. I think I can help.”

Jules glanced over at the red-and-blue neon sign across the street. “No way. That’s a Rite Aid. There ain’t no fuckin‘ way I’m settin’ foot in a Rite Aid.”

“Why not?”

“I know you ain’t been around in a while, but you remember KB?”

“The local drugstore chain? Sure. KB purple, who could forget? Everything they sold was purple.”

“Well, there ain’t no more KB. Fuckin‘ Rite Aid bought ’em out. Those corporate bloodsuckers put a big hunka New Orleans history six feet under.”

Doodlebug thought for a few seconds. “I reallycan help you, Jules. If you’ll let me. Are there anylocally owned drugstores or supermarkets near here open this late?”