Andrew Fox - Fat White Vampire Blues

Doodlebug walked to Jules’s side. “Actually, I can’t say that I have much of anything figured out yet. My first thought is simply to sit with Jules for a while over a hot pot of coffee and get his version of what’s been happening.”

Maureen clucked dismissively. “Oh,he can’t tell you anything worthwhile! The only thing he’s an expert on is how to get himself killed. Surely on your flight over here you contemplatedsome ways to keep him out of trouble? Maybe chaining him to the brick wall down in my basement would be a good start?”

Jules bristled. Doodlebug quickly stepped between them. “Maureen, Jules is a responsible adult. He’s perfectly capable of shouldering most of the load of protecting himself. Just on the way here from the airport, he was telling me about a planhe has-”

Maureen laughed uproariously. She shook so hard that she had to steady herself against a makeup table. “Ah-ha, ah-ha…what a great little kidder you are! Hisplan! Recruiting a bunch of rednecks from the North Shore and turning them into vampires…Ha ha ha ha! ”

Doodlebug didn’t laugh or smile. “It may sound a little far-fetched. But Jules is the responsible party here. And if he has a plan, then it’s my duty as his friend to help him make it work.”

“Really?” Jules said, edging closer to the smaller vampire.

Maureen’s good humor evaporated. She stared at her visitor as if he were an artichoke from outer space. “You-you’reserious, aren’t you?”

“Yes. Perfectly serious. I didn’t fly here to take charge, Maureen. I came to offer my dear andrespected friend any help within my power in meetinghis goals.”

Maureen’s face seemed to crumble. “But-but you’re thesmart one, Doodlebug! Howcould you-? Oh, this is a nightmare! I can’t believe what I’m hearing…”

“Aww, get over it,” Jules said. “This ain’t no tragedy. I’m the boss of this dynamic duo, just like I always been. Everything’s gonna work out great-”

“Men!”Maureen spat the word like the foulest curse she could muster. She whirled savagely on Doodlebug. “I thought you were different! I thoughtyou at least had a woman’s common sense! But no-you’re just a jackass like all the rest! Stick together if you want to! Get each other killed! I don’t care!”

“C’mon, Mo, calm down-”

She yanked her arm from Jules’s grasp as though she were recoiling from poison ivy. “Out!Get out! I’m disgusted with both of you!Both of you!”

Jules tried mollifying her with words and caresses, but all he accomplished was to ignite a fusillade of furious slaps. Doodlebug grabbed Jules’s arm and pulled him into the hallway, closing the door quickly behind him.

Jules dabbed his face with a handkerchief, then checked to see if the cloth had any blood on it. “Whew! She sure knows how to put a mad on.”

“Definitely. I’ve always treasured Maureen as a role model of femininity.”

Jules placed both his huge hands on his friend’s slender shoulders. “Hey. Thanks for backin‘ me up in there. I really appreciate it, pal.”

“What are friends for?” Doodlebug said as they passed the stage, heading for the exit. “Let’s go have a meal, and you can tell me everything.”

“Swanky joint you picked out for yourself, D.B.,” Jules said with genuine admiration. He steered his Lincoln off Bayou Road onto the gravel driveway leading to the columned portico of the Twelve Oaks Guest House. “I never woulda expected a place likethis on a dumpy, run-down street like Bayou Road.”

“I like the fact that it’s off the beaten track, but not too far from the center of town,” Doodlebug said. “And the owners are very discreet.”

They parked in front of the main entrance, a wide, deeply shadowed porch lined with hissing gas lamps. The two-story main house was bracketed by enormous overhanging oaks. Jules got out of the car and stared up at the shimmering beveled-glass windows. “Hey-wouldn’t this make a perfect setting for a movie of one of Agatha Longrain’s vampire potboilers?”

Doodlebug retrieved his purse from the backseat. “Actually, it already has been. Three or four years ago, this block was crawling with Hollywood types. That’s how I first heard of the guest house. After the shoot, it quickly became a favorite of film industry muckety-mucks. The owners specialize in that sort of exclusive California visitor now. Which is wonderful for me, because they’ve learned to not bat an eyelash at the most bizarre eccentricities under the sun. Or moon, in my case.”

Doodlebug checked in, and then the two of them walked through the manicured grounds to the Governor Claiborne Cottage, the largest of the outbuildings, which sat a good hundred feet from any of the other cabins. It even had its own goldfish pond. Jules knelt down and stuck his fingers in the water. Half a dozen plump orange fish darted to their hiding places beneath bright green lily fronds.

“Hey, if you get hungry in the middle of the night, you could always have yourself a fish fry.”

Doodlebug smiled and unlocked the door. “Oh, I can domuch better thanthat. Come inside and see.”

Jules followed his visitor into the cottage. In the middle of the bedroom sat a stunning four-poster bed, and in the middle of the bed sat Doodlebug’s gleaming mahogany coffin. The smaller vampire gestured for Jules to follow him into the kitchen. He opened the full-sized refrigerator. The bottom two shelves were lined with bottles of rich red blood.

“All the comforts of home, my friend.”

Jules’s eyes widened. “Whoa-ho! And I thoughtMaureen’s fridge was well stocked! Where’d all this come from?”

Doodlebug shut the refrigerator door and sat at the breakfast nook’s table. “One of the nicest fringe benefits of being the spiritual director of my Institute for Heightened Alpha-Consciousness is that my disciples pay in blood. Literally! That’s not all they give to the center, of course; I couldn’t afford to keep it running on blood alone. But each member voluntarily contributes a pint every six weeks, which meets my needs quite admirably. It’s part of the center’s recommended physical cleansing cycle, you see. And during their stays, all my disciples eat a strictly vegetarian, macrobiotic diet, which goes a long way toward helping me maintain my ‘girlish figure.’ While I’m here, I’ll have fresh pints shipped to me every other day. Feel free to imbibe-it’s quite good for you.”

Jules shook his head, stunned. “Jeezus H. Christ!Everybody’s got a racket! You, those rich dickheads on Bamboo Road-you’ve all figured out a perfect scam! Rivers of blood comin‘ out your peckers like cheap beer, and you don’t hafta work for it one bit!” He slumped into the chair across from his friend. “Nothin’ in this world is fair anymore. Hard work don’t count fernothin‘. Tradition don’t count fershit. Maybe that jerk Besthoff was onto somethin’… maybe the days of us ‘free-range vampires’are numbered, after all.”

There was a knock at the door. A porter identified himself and said he’d brought the pot of coffee Doodlebug had requested. After accepting the platter, Doodlebug selected the biggest mug from the kitchen’s charming selection and poured Jules a cup of steaming java. “Now, Jules, you aren’t being entirely fair, are you? Don’t I remember a certain someone who worked in a coroner’s office and happily drank the blood of the recently deceased for years?”

“Don’t remind me,” Jules grumbled. “That was the best gig I ever had.”

“You know, you’re more than welcome to join me at my institute in California. I’ve told you that before.”

Jules scowled. “Ohyeah — couldn’t you just picture me dancin‘ around with them pajama-wearin’ weirdos you got out there? Hah! I’d go so fuckin‘ crazy, before you know it,I’d be dressin’ up like a girl.” He slurped a swig of coffee. “You and that Doc Landrieu-you both want to get me the hell outta here. How do I know you’re not both in cahoots with that goddamn Malice X? Well, let me tell you somethin‘, and let me tell you somethin’right now — ain’tnobody gonna shove me outta New Orleans! Notyou, not Maureen, not my ex-boss, and forsure not some wet-behind-the-ears Negro vampire asshole!” He pounded the table, spilling hot coffee onto the floor.