Fangs for Everything

by Tommy Greenwald

  I could tell we were getting close to the convention center when I started seeing people wearing all sorts of costumes: everyone from Iron Man to Wonder Woman, Captain America to the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man from the original Ghostbusters movie—they were all there. We stared out the window of the car, suddenly feeling like weirdos because we were the only ones not dressed up.

  We parked the car and walked a couple of blocks to the convention center. I had Abby on a leash, and it was clear she was as fascinated by the costumes as we all were. There was a massive line to get in, but my dad pointed to a separate booth with a sign that said VIP/WILL CALL.

  “You’re a VIP, right?” he asked me. “Maybe we should go over there.”

  So we skipped the giant line and walked over to the booth, where two guards were keeping watch.

  “Can I help you?” one of the guards said, in that way that meant You people don’t belong here.

  We stood there for a second, a little intimidated. “Uh, yes, please,” my dad said finally. “We’re here to see Elroy Evans.”

  “Elroy Evans?” the guard said. He and the other guard exchanged an amused glance. “I’m sorry, but you can’t just walk in and ask to see the authors. And unfortunately, his signing is sold out. But you can still go over to the box office and buy day passes for forty-five dollars each.”

  “Is there a list or anything?” I asked the guard. “Like, for people who were invited?”

  “Yes, we do have a VIP list.”

  I nodded. “I think I’m on that.”

  The guard raised his eyebrows but reached back to the table behind him and picked up a clipboard.

  “Name?”

  “Bishop. Jimmy Bishop.”

  He scanned down to the Bs, then stopped. He looked at me again, but this time there was a new expression on his face. I think it was respect. “Okay, here we are,” he said. “Jimmy Bishop, plus guest.” He glanced at our group. “Who’s going to be your lucky plus one?” Then he looked down at Abby. “And no dogs, obviously.”

  Oh boy. I looked at Dad for help, but he looked back at me. “Your call, Jimmy.” I didn’t see how this could end well, but before I could say a word, Daisy and Irwin both said, “Take Baxter.”

  FACT: Sometimes best friends are true friends.

  Baxter blinked. “Really, you guys?”

  “Of course,” said Daisy.

  “We’ll check out the other exhibits,” my dad said. “Maybe we’ll run into PancakeMan and get a picture with him.”

  “PancakeMan?” asked Baxter. “Is that a real superhero?”

  My dad shook his head. “No, but he should be.”

  The guard gave me and Baxter two backstage passes that we had to put around our necks, then led us down the hall to a big room, where a crowd filled every inch of space. There was a blue curtain up front, and there—sitting right in front of the curtain—was Elroy Evans.

  Elroy Evans!

  A long line snaked its way around the room, leading up to his table, where he was signing books.

  “Holy smokes,” Baxter said. “Are all these people here to see Elroy Evans?”

  “I think so,” I said. A lot of people were dressed up like Jonah Forrester, who always wore a black suit, red shirt, and black tie. Some people were wearing fake fangs, of course. And a few even had the red leather gloves that Jonah wore in one book, Fangs for the Memories, when he had amnesia and forgot he was a good vampire and thought he was a criminal.

  “Come with me, boys,” said the guard who was walking us in, and we walked past all the people waiting and straight up to the front of the room, like we were copresidents of the United States or something.

  “Holy smokes,” Baxter said again.

  When we reached the table, I noticed two other people sitting next to Elroy. One of them I didn’t recognize, but I knew right away that the other one was Nick Brindle, the actor who had played Jonah Forrester in the two movies they’d made so far.

  “That’s Nick Brindle,” I whispered to Baxter, but he was too overwhelmed to hear me.

  Elroy finished signing somebody’s book and looked up. “Can I help you boys?”

  The guard looked down at his sheet. “This is, uh, Jimmy Bishop, Mr. Evans. And his friend …”

  PROFILE

  Name: Elroy Evans

  Age: Older than he looks in the picture on his books, that’s for sure

  Occupation: The greatest writer in the world

  Interests: If I had to take a wild guess, I’d say vampires

  “Baxter Bratford, sir,” said Baxter.

  Elroy twirled his pen in his hand and nodded, but he didn’t smile. “Ah, yes,” he said. “The boy who wanted to know how one could tell if someone was a vampire. That was your question, Mr. Bishop, was it not?”

  “Yes, sir,” I said nervously, as Baxter gave me a confused glance. Everyone on line started twitching impatiently, wondering who this annoying kid was that was slowing things down.

  Elroy frowned. “Did you two travel all this way by yourselves? Where are your parents?”

  “Well, my father is here, but he’s waiting outside with my other friends and my dog, Abby. They said I could only bring one guest in with me.”

  “Well, that doesn’t seem fair now, does it?” He gestured to the guard. “Lou, would you kindly find the rest of Jimmy’s party and bring them in?”

  “Absolutely, Mr. Evans,” said Lou the guard. As he left, Elroy turned to the other people sitting at the table. “Jimmy and Baxter, allow me to introduce you to my partners in crime,” he said. “This is Nick Brindle, who does me the honor of portraying Jonah Forrester on the big screen.”

  “We, uh, um, we know who he is,” I stammered. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

  Nick chuckled and flashed a movie-star smile, which involved dimples and crinkly eyes and teeth whiter than snow. “Hey, fellas, good to see you. Glad you’re fans of Elroy. Same here.”

  “Hey, Elroy!” yelled someone from the line. “We paid good money for this. Are you going to sign our books or what?”

  The other guy at Elroy’s table suddenly stood up like a shot. “Hey! Whoever said that, give him a minute!” he hollered, pretty aggressively. “He’s visiting with friends! Be patient!”

  There was some grumbling from the line, but no one wanted to take on Elroy’s slightly crazy defender. I figured he was maybe Elroy’s personal security guard or something, until Elroy pointed at the guy, laughed, and said, “And this one, making a strong first impression as always, is my son, Edison.”

  “I didn’t know you had a son,” I said.

  Edison stuck his hand out. “Hey,” he said. Then he did the same thing to Baxter. “Hey.” His eyes kept scanning the crowd, still trying to spot whoever yelled at his dad.

  PROFILE

  Name: Edison Evans

  Age: If I had to guess, I would say between 25 and 50

  Occupation: The greatest writer in the world’s son

  Interests: Yelling at people on behalf of his dad

  Elroy went back to signing, but the line didn’t seem to shrink at all. After a few minutes, Lou came back in with Irwin, Daisy, and my dad, who had Abby on the leash.

  “Oh, my word, you weren’t kidding,” Elroy said, eyebrows up. “If I’m not mistaken, that’s a dog.”

  I was desperate to blurt out the whole story to Elroy—how I thought Abby was a vampire, but now I wasn’t sure, and that’s why I wrote him in the first place—but instead I just said, “Yes, Mr. Evans, that’s my dog, Abby. She’s awesome.”

  “She certainly seems it.”

  “Also, this is my dad,” I said. “And my friends Daisy and Irwin.”

  Daisy and Irwin stood there like they’d forgotten how to talk. Irwin stared at Nick Brindle like he was a mythical creature come to life, which he kind of was. As my dad and Elroy shook hands, Lou whispered something in Elroy’s ear, and Elroy nodded.

  “Listen, Jimmy,” he said. “It’s great to meet you and your dad and friends, an
d it’s especially great to meet your dog, but I’ve got some fans here who have been waiting a while to get their books signed. So for now, Lou’s going to take you back to the greenroom area to get something to eat and drink while I finish up. Shouldn’t be more than twenty more minutes or so.”

  “Wow, you must sign your name fast, Mr. Evans,” Daisy said, scanning the tons of people who were still standing there.

  “Oh yes, young lady,” Elroy said. “When you’ve been doing this as long as I have, you learn a trick or two.”

  And then he sat down and signed about ten books in ten seconds. But the people he signed for didn’t seem to mind. They clutched their books like they’d just won the lottery. And if you ask me, they had.

  FACT: Greenrooms aren’t green.

  SO IT TURNS out that a “greenroom” is like a backstage waiting area for famous people to hang out and relax in, before they go onstage at a talk show, or out to a table to sign books. This greenroom was actually blue, but it was filled with tons of candy, tons of cookies, and tons of soda, which were three of my favorite food groups. And there was no one in there except us to eat and drink it all.

  “Wow,” Baxter said. “This is the life.”

  I put a cup of water down for Abby, who gulped it happily.

  “Careful she doesn’t have an accident,” Dad said, but I wasn’t worried. Abby was like a camel—she could hold it for hours if she needed to. It was kind of amazing. I mean, I don’t want to call it a superpower or anything … I learned my lesson there …

  We chomped and chatted for about ten minutes, until a woman came in. She smiled at us and sat down in a corner, where she put on some headphones and started bopping her head to the music. She looked barely older than my sister, Misty, but there was something about her that made me think she was a big deal.

  “Is that somebody famous?” Daisy whispered.

  “I have no idea,” I whispered back. “But there’s only one way to find out.”

  Irwin whispered, “What are you doing?” as I walked over to the woman and smiled. She smiled back and took off her headphones. “Hey, little man, what’s going on? Is that your dog?”

  “Yup,” I said. “Her name’s Abby. And that’s my dad and my friends.” They were all being shy—even my dad—but they waved.

  “Nice to meet all of you,” said the woman.

  I helped myself to a fistful of peanut M&M’s. “Are you a famous author?”

  The woman laughed. “Ha! Well, it depends on what you mean by famous. If, by famous, you mean everybody at my mom’s yoga studio has heard of me, then absolutely, I’m very famous.” She turned around and handed me a copy of her book. “It’s called One-Forty, and it’s a graphic novel about a guy who only talks in one hundred forty–character statements. It’s a commentary about how social media is running this country and ruining this country at the same time. But hopefully people will think it’s funny too.”

  No one knew what to say except my dad, who asked, “Is your book for sale here? It sounds interesting.”

  The woman beamed. “Nope, but I can give you one, and I’ll sign it for you too.” She stuck out her hand. “My name’s Sharona. What’s yours?”

  “Richard,” said my dad. “But you can make it out to my daughter, Misty, if you wouldn’t mind. She’s so obsessed with her phone that sometimes I think her head is going to just drop right off her neck.”

  I watched Sharona open the inside of the book and start writing—I still couldn’t believe that was a thing. Imagine getting a book signed by the actual person who wrote it!

  My dad looked at what she wrote and laughed. “Check this out, you guys,” he said, holding it up:

  To Misty

  Reading beats tweeting any day!

  (Except when you’re tweeting about how much you liked this book.)

  Your pal,

  Sharona Wild

  “Wow, she’s so lucky,” I muttered. “She’s not even here and she gets a book.”

  As we were rereading the words Sharona wrote, the door opened and Elroy walked in, with his son, Edison, slightly behind him.

  “Where’s Nick Brindle?” Daisy whispered to me.

  “Shhhh!” I said, even though I was thinking the same exact thing.

  “Where’s Nick Brindle?” Baxter asked Elroy, nice and loud.

  I felt my face start to get hot, but Elroy just laughed. “Oh, he’s long gone. As soon as the last book was signed and the last picture taken, he was on the next flight back to Hollywood.”

  I saw Baxter’s and Daisy’s faces fall, and I was determined not to show the same disappointment. Besides, I was here to see Elroy—Nick had just been a happy bonus.

  “It was so incredibly nice of you to invite us here,” I said. “You’ve been my favorite author since, like, forever.”

  Elroy helped himself to one of the itty-bitty sandwiches they had on a tray. “Well, I wouldn’t get to be an author if it weren’t for my loyal readers,” he said. “That’s why I come to events like this, even though I have a fear of crowds. And when it comes to my youngest readers, such as yourself, it’s especially important, because you are the ones who will keep my books alive into the future.” He snapped his hand toward his son. “Edison, grab my bag from behind the couch, if you would be so kind.”

  Edison nodded, almost the way a servant would to a master. Then he scampered over to the couch, reached back, and grabbed a small brown duffel bag.

  “Ah, yes,” Elroy said. “Here we are.” He opened the bag and pulled out three copies of his latest book, Fangtango. It was so new I hadn’t even read it yet, but I knew it was about Jonah Forrester going undercover to break up a crime ring that was using a dance studio to steal people’s identities and raid their bank accounts.

  Elroy handed the books to Irwin, Daisy, and Baxter. “These are for you, and I’d be happy to sign them for you, if you’d like.”

  The three of them all had a look in their eyes like, Is this really happening right now? He signed the books, and they thanked him over and over again, as my dad looked on, smiling. I tried to smile too, even though both of my legs were jiggling with anticipation.

  Elroy glanced at me with a twinkle in his eye. “What’s the matter—worried you’re not going to get anything?”

  “Of course not,” I said. “And I don’t want anything anyway. Just getting to meet you is fantastic enough for me.”

  “HA!” Elroy said, barking out a laugh. “I appreciate the lie for the spirit in which it was intended.” While I was trying to figure out what that meant, Elroy glanced at Edison. “The Vault, please.”

  Edison’s eyes went wide. “The Vault? Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” Elroy said. “Very.”

  Edison looked upset, but he walked backed over to the couch, reached underneath one of the seat cushions, and pulled out a golden briefcase with the wings design and the letters EE stamped in big black letters, just like the envelope Elroy had mailed me. Edison looked at it, shook his head, and brought it over to his father. Elroy held it as carefully as you would hold a newborn baby.

  “I call this briefcase ‘The Vault,’” Elroy said quietly. “When I travel, I keep my most valuable possessions inside.” He punched in a bunch of numbers on the lock, and the case clicked open. He kept it pointed away from Edison so he couldn’t see what was inside. We all leaned in with anticipation, and Abby took advantage of the situation to stretch up onto the table and grab a hunk of cheese.

  “Bad girl,” I told her, but I didn’t take my eyes off the case.

  Elroy looked directly at me. “Jimmy. I mentioned earlier that young readers like you are the future,” he said. “And to show my appreciation for your loyalty and custom, I would like to present you with this signed, first-edition copy of my favorite Jonah Forrester novel, Fangs for Everything.” He pulled out a big red book with a special gold-embossed seal on it and flicked away a speck of dust that was apparently on the cover.

  Edison looked shocked. “Wait, serious
ly?” he asked his father. “For real?”

  “That’s enough, Edison,” Elroy said, using the same tone that I’d used when I told Abby she was a bad girl. Edison scowled and grabbed a handful of pretzels but didn’t say anything else.

  Elroy held the book out to me. I didn’t move. “Take it; it’s yours,” he said. My hands were trembling slightly as I took it, opened to a random page, and read:

  Jonah Forrester felt strange. More alive than ever and blessed with the strength of a thousand men. After a lifetime of loneliness, he was determined to take advantage of his gift. If he was going to live in this world forever, he was going to do everything he could to make it a better place.

  From that moment on, Jonah lived by one thought and one thought alone:

  A vampire’s job is never done.

  “Thank you,” I managed to whisper.

  “Jeepers,” Irwin said, with more than a hint of jealousy in his voice.

  Elroy smiled. “Would you like me to sign it?”

  I nodded and handed it back to him. He took a red pen out of his briefcase.

  To Jimmy

  Never stop reading.

  Never stop thinking.

  Never stop dreaming.

  Your friend,

  Elroy Evans

  I stared down at the words, trying to absorb the amazing thing that was happening to me.

  “You better not sell it on eBay,” Edison said bitterly.

  Elroy hushed his son with a glance, then turned to me. “In your letter, Jimmy, you asked me how to know if someone is a vampire. Do you remember?”

  “Yes, Mr. Evans,” I said. I glanced down at Abby, who was parked under the food table, hoping for another snack. “You said it was an age-old question that was impossible to answer.”

  “Indeed,” Elroy said. “Vampires are beautiful, and fascinating, and dangerous, and eternal. But most of all, they’re mysterious. Jonah Forrester has lived forever, and how many people know he’s a vampire?”