Andrew Fox - Fat White Vampire Blues

People like Erato.

“Hey, pal. Thanks for coming out,” Jules said.

“No problem,” Erato said. He leaned across the table and pushed a chair out for Jules to sit in. “Slow night, anyway. And I been a little concerned about you, ever since you ran off from that rally earlier. You doin‘ all right?”

Jules sat down heavily and placed his vase on the table. “I’ve had better nights.”

“What’s with the vase? Somebody send you flowers?”

“It’s…” Jules considered the wide range of possible lies he could tell his friend. He decided now wasn’t the time for lies. “It’s Maureen, Erato. It’s-it’s herashes.”

Erato didn’t say anything for a minute. His eyes turned harshly on his friend. “That’sevil, man. That ain’t no kinda joke to be makin‘. It ain’t funny.”

Jules’s expression didn’t change one iota. “It’s not a joke. I’d give anything in the world for it tobe a joke. Look at me, Erato. Tell me if I’m pullin‘ a gag.”

His friend looked at him long and hard. Slowly, reluctantly, Erato’s expression shifted from indignant anger to shock. “Jesus… You ain’t shittin‘ me. How-when-how the fuck did thishappen, man?”

“I…shit. I can’t give you no details. You’re the best friend I got in this world, and if there’s anybody I’d wanna tell, it’s you. But Maureen wouldn’t want me to tell you. And I’ve gotta honor what I figure her wishes would be.”

Erato stared at his hands. Jules watched the man’s face turn a deeper shade of brown and his large, callused hands clench into fists. “Why the hell are you layin‘ this on me if you won’t trust me-if you don’t think enough of me to tell me what happened? Maureen wasmy friend, too. Don’t you think I got a right to know?”

Jules swallowed. Hard. “Yeah. You got a right to know. I just don’t got a right to tell you. And if you don’t think that’s tearing my guts to pieces right now, then you don’t know me.”

Erato’s fists slowly unclenched. Jules saw grief, hurt, anger, and resignation carve themselves into his friend’s face in turn. “Okay,” Erato said at last. “What can I do?”

“Take this vase, Erato. Take Maureen for me. Take her home with you, and put her on a windowsill that has a pretty view. Where she’ll get lots of sun and be warm all the time. That would mean a helluva lot to me.”

“Jules, I–I mean, I said I’d do anything I can, but… but that’s not forme to do. She belongs withyou.”

“She belongs with someone who can take care of her. Someone who’s gonna be around for a while. And I don’t think that someone is me.”

“What do you mean? Where are you going?”

“I can’t tell you.”

Erato’s eyes blazed. “Awwfuck!” He slammed his palm down on the table. “What the hellis this? You yank me in here, stir me up like a hamster in a Mixmaster, and then you won’t tell meshit! What’s with all this bullshit, man?”

Jules took another check out of his pocket and pushed it across the table. “Here. Maybe this’ll make the bullshit go down easier.”

Erato took a few seconds to read the check. “Twelve thousand dollars. Made out to me. ‘To send Lacrecia to LSU.’ ” He pushed the check back across the table. “You are justfull of surprises tonight, aren’t you? Where’d you get this kinda money?”

Jules pushed the check back toward Erato. “Take it. I want you to have it. It’d make me real happy, knowin‘ that I helped send her to college in Baton Rouge. Since I know that’s what you really want for her.”

Erato didn’t touch the check. “I ask youagain. Where’d you get this kinda money?”

Jules sighed. Withholding information from his best friend was one thing. Telling him an out-and-out lie was another. “It’s part of the insurance payout from my house.”

“So what are you givin‘ it tome for? Don’t you need a place to live?”

Jules stared down at the table. Without his wanting it to, his gaze drifted to the green glass vase and the white dust inside. “That’s what I was hinting around at before, see. I won’t be needing no place to live. I won’t need a car or a record player or a set of dishes or nothin‘. After tomorrow night… well, lemme put it this way. We won’t be drinkin’ coffee together in here no more, pal.”

Erato grabbed his arm. “You aren’t-you aren’t plannin‘ on killing yo’self, are you?”

Jules smiled ruefully. “Naww. Nothin‘ like that. I figure another guy’ll do it for me. But not before I get in some licks of my own.”

“If you’re in bad trouble… let me help.”

“Forget it. These guys I’m tusslin‘ with, they’re way outta your league. They’re outta the cops’ league. I’ve gotta handle this in my own way, on my own.”

“Oh? And what sorta league areyou in? That’sbullshit, man. If you’re in the kinda trouble you think you won’t walk away from, you needhelp. And who’s gonna help you if your friends don’t?”

Jules stood up. He squared his shoulders and stared Erato down, using a tone of voice he’d never thought he’d ever use with his friend. “Now you listen up. You arenot gettin‘ tangled up inmy business. Ever since this whole mess got started, I’ve been scramblin’ for ways to get other people to do my dirty work for me. All that ducking and running, you know what that’s ended up gettin‘ for me? Two of my best friends killed. That’s what. And here you are, volunteerin’ to become the third. Jeezus, Erato, do you realize what you’vegot? You’ve got all the good stuff in your life that I’llnever have. A wife. A family. Things you done for other people that you can be proud of. Now listen. You go back to your house tonight, and you crawl in bed next to your wife, and tomorrow morning you deposit that check in your bank account. You hear me?”

The black cabdriver didn’t say a word in response. He picked up the check from the table, folded it in half, and stuck it in his shirt pocket.

Jules watched him and smiled with satisfaction. “Thanks for being my friend, Erato,” he said. And then he walked out the door of the Trolley Stop Cafй, for what he figured would be the last time.

The Lincoln was parked out back, on the shadowy fringes of the Central City neighborhood where Jules last encountered Malice X. Jules felt a spear of anguish in his chest when he thought back to that night. If he hadn’t been so squeamish about killing a fellow vampire… if he’d fired his wooden darts through Malice X’s heart when he’d had the chance… both Maureen and Doc Landrieu would still be among the living.

Jules heard footsteps behind him. Numerous footsteps, none heavy enough to be a man’s. He whirled around to face them, enraged that anything would intrude on his mournful thoughts.

Dogs. Or wolves; he couldn’t tell. Five of them, standing at the edge of the parking lot, all staring up at him.

Jules realized he wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t even particularly surprised. “Couldn’t wait ‘til tomorrow night, huh?” he scowled. “I thought Malice wanted to polish me off all by himself. Doesn’t matter.” He picked up a broken piece of plywood from near his feet. “Come on, then! Let’s get this goddamn business over with!”

But the wolf-dogs didn’t come any closer. Not one of them growled. Their muscles weren’t tensed; they were clearly interested in him, but they weren’t angry or fearful. The beasts’ tails moved slowly from side to side. It might’ve been a trick of the light, but Jules thought he could almost see friendliness in their eyes. And their scent-heknew that scent from somewhere. The sense memory was as strong as his recollection of Maureen’s perfume, even if he couldn’t for the life of him place it.