The Trouble With Hairy, page 31
part #2 of West Hollywood Vampires Series
“He’s not…dead, is he?” she whispered. She couldn’t believe that Chris would ever actually kill anyone, but the stillness of Drew’s form was alarming.
“No,” Chris said, in a normal tone of voice. “And there’s no need to whisper. He’ll be out for a couple of hours at least.” Chris smiled, wryly. “Between Troy and I, he’s had quite a workout,” he added.
“But how…” she whispered. Becky couldn’t help herself; normal volume seemed out of place.
Chris took her arm and led her out of the bedroom. In the few seconds it took for them to reach the living room, the sultriness of the events she’d just witnessed had faded enough for her natural curiosity to rise to the surface.
“If you think you’re getting away from me without a full examination…” she began, but Chris cut her off.
“Very few people,” he said, quietly intense, “have ever seen that and lived. Don’t push.”
“But…”
Chris sighed with resignation and capitulated slightly. “As long as the…er…meal is still alive, the wounds close in about two minutes. Something in my saliva. Don’t ask me what. Later, when Troy and I are ready to go to sleep, we’ll move the body so I can get into bed. Troy will probably crawl in with Drew.” Chris couldn’t resist smirking slightly as he added, “Drew’s going to be horny as hell when he wakes up in a few hours. Lending him Troy is the least I can do.”
“After all,” Troy piped in from where he was lounging on the sofa, “I’m the one who found him.”
“Talk about open relationships,” Becky said, with an uncomprehending shake of her head.
“Talk about necessary relationships,” Chris corrected.
Becky looked at him, puzzled, patiently waiting for an explanation. It was Troy who provided her with the answer.
“Chris doesn’t really drink from me. I’m not quite human,” Troy said. “When he bites me, it’s pure sex. And, lovely sex it is, too, darlin’,” he added.
“I think,” Becky said, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the situation, “that I need to think about this for awhile.”
Chris nodded, understanding and, as Troy moved off into the bedroom, he escorted her to the door.
“See you later?” he asked, his voice tinged with concern that, perhaps, Becky had taken in a bit more than she could handle.
“Yeah,” she replied absently, her mind still reeling. “You know,” she said, almost absently, a moment later, “I always thought it would be confusing to be a gay vampire.”
Chris looked at her, askance.
“I mean the decision about where you bite.”
Chris succeeded in keeping the smile from his lips but his eyes twinkled nonetheless. “Now you know,” he said.
“Yeah,” Becky said, moving out into the hall. “Now I know.”
The next day, Becky was once again forced to call Grant and cancel their dinner date. Instead, they made alternate plans to meet at the International House of Pancakes near Grant’s motel for lunch. That morning, Troy had called in tears to beg her help with the unpacking. He and Chris had another spat while moving Drew from the top of the coffin; Troy dropped the unconscious lad accidentally and Chris bitched at him to be more careful — though from the way Troy described the fight “bitched at” was a pretty mild way of putting what happened. Becky reluctantly agreed to come over immediately after work, understanding that Troy was tacitly pleading with her to run interference if Chris’ mood should suddenly take a turn for the worse.
During lunch with Grant, she was able to put all thoughts of Troy and Chris’ marital squabbles out of her mind. In fact, even though Grant seemed abnormally curious to hear about her relationship with the two gay men, for the hour and a half that he spent with her at her apartment after they ate, she was able to forget about the vampire and his lover entirely.
Guy left Becky’s apartment troubled by many things. First, members of his species prided themselves on their directness and honesty. The subterfuge of masquerading as Grant Chambers was wearing on his nerves; it went against everything he’d been taught. Keeping the pack’s nature secret was one thing; dissembling was something else entirely. Then again, he thought with a grin, he’d also been taught that human prey was off limits to all but the alpha and, then, only in times of dire need or to protect the pack. So much for his adherence to lupine value systems he thought with a dismissive shrug. Nevertheless, it rankled.
Second, there were times when he was with Becky O’Brien that he forcibly had to remind himself that his purpose was to gain information. Her perpetual high spirits, intelligence and wry, self-deprecating humor proved extremely distracting. Despite his inbred aversion to humans, he couldn’t keep himself from liking her. Nevertheless, he had a job to do and nothing, not even Becky O’Brien’s bubbly personality, was going to stop him from seeing it through.
By carefully playing the role of the slightly jealous lover, Guy was able to make sure that lunch provided him with a wealth of information. Becky’s friend Chris was clearly the vampire he’d seen. Becky’s bitching about having to help him move at night was the confirmation. Whether or not Becky knew of her friend’s immortal state was still difficult to tell. While a werewolf would never voluntarily reveal his true nature, the bloodsuckers had never been quite as circumspect. Since they were incapable of breeding and having litters of pups like normal folk, in order to propagate, they frequently identified themselves to the normals just prior to inducing the Change.
It took him a little longer to figure out just what the hell kind of creature her friend Troy was. At first, in fact, he’d thought him to be human. But, Becky had absently mentioned that the two had been together for “decades” and, Guy was fairly certain, if Troy were subject to the aging process and Chris were not, keeping their secret would be difficult at best. A renfield was the natural conclusion. He was disgusted, but not at all surprised, that the two were homosexual lovers. Vampires, as a race, had always freely disregarded societal rules whenever it pleased them to do so. It was one of the reasons why the werewolves, with their own rigid mores, found the bloodsuckers so insufferable.
He resolved that, if he could, he would avoid the vampire unless and until he was fairly certain of being able to kill him without danger to himself. As for the renfield, although he could be dispatched fairly easily, the vampire could be relied on not to rest until he had his revenge on his lover’s killer. Guy had no desire to spark an inter-species war and, thus, decided to leave Troy alone if he could. In any event, he would certainly not allow either of the two to get a look at him before he was ready. Just as he’d easily identified Chris, they would instantly know that he wasn’t human either and the hunter could quickly become the hunted.
He feigned intense interest while Becky rambled on about her other, human, friends, until she happened to mention someone who, quite literally, whetted his appetite.
“And, of course,” she’d said, “with Pamela preoccupied with both the Pride Parade and her new ward…”
“New ward?” Guy interrupted.
“Didn’t I mention him?” Becky had ordered peach pancakes with extra peaches on the side. She paused in her monologue long enough to carefully place several heaping spoons of jellied peach mush onto the sole remaining pancake and roll it into a tube.
“His name’s Louis. He’s going out with Pamela’s assistant, Carlos.”
Ah ha! Guy thought. “Do you know anyone who’s not gay?” he couldn’t help asking, and then mentally kicked himself for speaking the question aloud.
Becky looked at him strangely for a second as she dumped the rest of the little bowl of whipped cream on top of her pancake.
“This is West Hollywood, for Pete’s sake, Grant.” She lifted her concoction to her mouth, using both hands. “Almost everyone is gay.”
She took a bite from one end of the rolled pancake. Guy lunged quickly to the right as a spray of peaches, syrup and whipped cream jetted out of the other side.
“Oh my God!” Becky said, horrified. “I’m sorry!”
“Don’t worry about it,” Guy said, forcing himself to smile. “No harm done. Just warn me next time.”
Becky giggled and took another bite, carefully pointing the end of the pancake down toward her plate this time.
“Anyway,” she continued as she munched. “Louis is new to town. No place to stay since someone trashed his apartment.”
Guy tried to look shocked.
“Since he’s dating Carlos, Pamela’s let him stay with her. After watching the two of ’em, I’d bet they’re gonna move in together pretty soon.”
Guy had a sudden inspiration. “That would be great. You know, someday, I’d really like to meet someone who I could move in with,” he said with studied shyness. “Someday,” he hastened to repeat as Becky blushed. “Where would they live? Carlos and Louis, I mean.”
“Isn’t it a little soon to be getting ideas, Grant?” Becky asked, hardly daring to hope he was serious.
“Becky,” he said earnestly, secretly thrilling in the fact that she hadn’t an inkling of what kind of ideas he was getting. “I’m not gonna lie and tell you that you’re the only women I’ve ever been with…”
“After yesterday,” she winked, “You couldn’t make me believe that anyway.”
“I’m serious.” He allowed just the merest hint of irritation into his voice. Then, he reached across the table, clasping the coroner’s sticky hand in his own and looked deeply into her eyes. “But I feel so close to you. Closer than I’ve ever felt to anyone in my entire life.” He concentrated on ignoring the gobbets of peach that were dripping slowly from Becky’s hand onto his.
“Me too,” Becky said. “It’s incredible, isn’t it?” What IS that weird feeling? Becky wondered idly. I never knew I had any intimacy issues. I love sleeping with him. But, when he holds my hand…
“Incredible,” Guy agreed. He allowed her hand to escape and glanced at the mess contained in his own. He turned his attention back to business. “So, if…someday…it should, well, you know, happen…” He gazed deeply into her eyes once again. “I’d like to know where to start looking.
“Oh, there are a lot of places,” Becky told him, hardly able to believe what she was hearing. My God! Things were happening so quickly. But then again, when was the last time a man had ever responded to her the way Grant was? Don’t look a gift guy in the mouth, she warned herself, silently.
“Not just on West Knoll. That’s where Carlos lives. But all over town. I saw a really cute little two bedroom house for rent over on Ashcroft last week. I was thinking of taking it. The least Chris and Troy could do to repay me is to help me move all my junk!”
“Well, we should at least think about it,” Guy said abruptly. He had the name of the street. With his sensitive nose, it should be enough.
“What’s wrong?” Becky asked, catching the sudden change in his mood.
Careful. Careful, he reminded himself.
“Nothing,” he said aloud and then flashed her his best smile. “I was just thinking that we’d better get out of here if you want to get back to the morgue before dark.”
“Shit!” Becky said, “That’s right. I’ve gotta go over to Chris’ tonight again. Although…” She smiled shyly. “I’d rather spend tonight doing something else.”
“There’s a long afternoon ahead of us,” Guy replied and smiled once again. Oh yes, he thought, the wait until tonight, when Becky and the vampire would be otherwise occupied and he could be about his business, would seem very long indeed.
CHAPTER 17
The evening started innocently; Carlos and Louis had gone on their third real date. Actually, Carlos was forced to admit, they’d scarcely spent a moment out of each other’s presence since their first meeting at La Boheme. Of course, Louis was still living with Pam Burman, and Carlos spent lonely nights in his own one bedroom bungalow on West Knoll Drive, but this was a situation that Carlos, along with his alter ego, Shanda Leer, was determined to remedy as soon as possible.
Part of the reason Shanda had been unable to fully utilize her impressive feminine wiles in the seduction of the impressively hirsute young Mr. Chartreuse, was the ubiquitous presence of Pamela Burman. Although Shanda and Louis had eaten together at every one of West Hollywood’s finer restaurants, shopped incessantly and had even spent one glorious romantic evening parked at the top of Sunset Plaza Drive, gazing down at the sparkling carpet of the lights of downtown Los Angeles spread out below them, Burman was ever at their side.
Carlos adored Pamela; she was his idol and, as she was to Carlos’s mind the ideal personification of Womanhood, Shanda was heavily patterned on Burman. However, enough was enough. She’d let them go to the movies alone once — finally — and the experience of being alone with Louis had so intoxicated him that, had his life depended on it, Carlos could not have told anyone what the hell movie they’d seen. His memory of the evening was limited to two things. First, the delightful feel of Louis pressed up against his side, their lips in almost constant contact as the images flickered, unnoticed on the huge screen of the El Capitan Theater. And second, being greeted at the door of Burman’s apartment by two uniformed deputies that Pamela had used her not insubstantial influence to summon when the two lovebirds had decided to delay their return from the theater and stop in at Johnny Rockets for a hamburger, which Louis, of course, ate nearly raw, before telephoning Chris to ride shotgun behind them on their ride home.
Come hell or high water, Carlos was determined to get Louis away from her yet again and to make his opening bid for marital bliss. He absently scratched at the ring finger of his left hand, unable to figure out just what it was about Louis that attracted him so. Shanda, of course, would know in an instant. But the first time that Carlos had tentatively donned drag to accompany Louis and Burman on a Neiman Marcus shopping spree, worried about what his prospective lover would think of the feminine attire, the waves of raw lust emanating from Louis had flustered even Shanda to such a degree that all attempts at introspection were shot to hell.
Besides, Carlos thought, were he ever to really find himself talking to Shanda, he’d instantly check himself into Cedar’s Sinai as a hopeless schizophrenic. Not to say he didn’t talk to himself — he did, and frequently. But he was always aware that he and Shanda were simply two halves of the same person. In fact, he thought wryly, Shanda was even more truly Carlos than Carlos was himself. In drag, Carlos experienced a freedom, a comfortable flamboyancy that his normally meek personality would not allow to show through. As a man, Carlos was timid, slightly effeminate, easily flustered, constantly nervous and given to fits of weeping whenever he was confronted with the slightest stress. As Shanda, however, he was strong, determined, a decisive woman who knew what she wanted and how to get it — very Helen Reddy, he thought. And what both Carlos and Shanda wanted at the moment was one Louis Chartreuse — preferably with a minister and a domestic partnership agreement attached.
Louis was unendingly fascinating, an odd combination of strength and childlike simplicity which could tug the innermost strings of Carlos’s heart. The restaurant incident had been a perfect example. Obviously Louis had been raised by parents who didn’t give a damn, who had foregone teaching him the most rudimentary aspects of social intercourse. When Carlos arrived at Burman’s that evening, to check and see how Louis was doing, Louis had bashfully apologized for causing a scene, hastening to explain, to Carlos’s shocked disbelief, he’d never before eaten anywhere other than at home or school. After leaving Burman’s condo, on his way home, Carlos had purchased a copy of Emily Post’s Etiquette Guide at A Different Light Bookstore and stayed up all night highlighting the book for Louis’ future reference.
Carlos had decided that Louis had been an amazingly sheltered child and, with uncustomary determination, set out to broaden the young man’s horizons. Carlos indulged himself in romantic flights of fantasy regarding Louis’ origins. His mother may have been his sole living parent but, from the few facts that Carlos laboriously and skillfully managed to pull out of Louis, they seemed to have lived in a large extended family, with cousins, uncles and aunts all crammed under one roof.
Visions of an Uncle Tom’s Cabin kind of existence warred with Carlos’s thoughts that, perhaps, after all, Louis’ youth had been spent as an oppressed, gay Joshua in his family’s own production of The Ten Commandments. Louis’ uncle, Carlos decided, must look like Charles Laughton in one of his more villainous roles; his mother, on the other hand, bore a striking resemblance to Margaret Hamilton.
Carlos peopled the rest of the family with brutish, foul-tempered, muscle bound male brothers and cousins. His sisters and aunts, on the other hand, were lifted right out of Cinderella. And, finally, Carlos threw in the plots of half a dozen old Shirley Temple movies for good measure. After going through all that, Carlos told himself when his mental screenplay was complete, It’s no wonder the poor dear has trouble functioning in polite society!
And so, with Burman’s help, Carlos eagerly dove into the task at hand — widening Louis’ experience.
Disneyland had been one such experience from which Carlos and Burman were still trying to recover. Louis developed a fascination with roller coasters; he’d never been on one before. Fortunately, on the day they visited the park, it had been raining, shortening the lines and allowing them to pack so much “fun” into one day that both Burman and Carlos were seriously considering checking into the Betty Ford Center to recuperate. Louis dragged them onto the Matterhorn three times and persuaded them to take five trips through Space Mountain. Finally, Carlos and Burman had both begged off on Thunder Mountain, standing instead by the railing to snap blurry pictures of Louis as he flew by, time after time, holding his hands straight up in imitation of a group of Catholic School Girls who shared his addiction.
Carlos and Burman preferred the more sedate attractions. Louis had, at first, grumbled at being forced into the little wooden bed that served as the car on Snow White’s Scary Adventures. But the Wicked Queen/Witch mirror transformation enthralled him so much that they’d exited the ride, only to immediately drag every one back on again — and again and again. He was only mildly intrigued by the Peter Pan ride. The only thing he seemed fond of was the brief part when the flying pirate ships soared past Tinker Bell and out over the island of Never Land and the Mermaid Lagoon; thus, they’d only had to experience it twice. The Pinocchio and Alice rides bored him; the tea cups made him ill. He even went so far as to scoff aloud during the boat ride in It’s A Small World, frightening a woman from Ohio and her three children with his growled comments until Burman irritably told him to shut up. As for the Haunted Mansion, he became hysterical with laughter at the ludicrous antics of the ghosts and insisted on going through once again so he could, to Carlos’s bafflement, explain the differences between the mechanical ghosts and what he referred to as “real life.”
