“There. Now try spreading that over your burns.”
Jules stared dubiously at the paste covering his palm. “I ain’t never heard of nothin‘ like this-”
“Justdo it, Jules. It can’t hurt.” Doodlebug squeezed his left hand into a fist to stanch the flow of blood and, at the same time, undid the rest of Jules’s shirt buttons with his other hand. The big man’s chest was rippled with oozing blisters.
Gingerly, Jules dabbed one of the biggest and ugliest with a few drops of the mixture. “Huh.” He gave another blister the same treatment. “Not bad. Not bad.” A little more daringly, he dipped two fingers into the paste and lightly rubbed it into his belly, where some of the worst blistering had taken place. “Y’know, I think you might have somethin‘ here…” Throwing caution to the winds, he slathered his entire upper body with his handful of paste. “Hey, this stuff is fuckin’great! I feel like a new man! Doodlebug, pal, how the hell did ya ever figure this out?”
His auburn-haired companion smiled. “Well, maybe Iam president of the genius-of-the-month club, after all.” He graciously opened the driver’s door for Jules. “Shall we?”
Maureen was applying the finishing touches to her makeup when Jules and Doodlebug entered her dressing room. Maureen swiveled on her padded stool as the two men walked through the door.
“Doodlebug! Darling! I’m sothrilled you’ve come!”
The slight vampire was completely enveloped in the huge woman’s hug. “Hello, Maureen! Oh, it’s been too long, dear!”
Maureen released her visitor and ushered him over to a leather couch, leaving Jules standing in the doorway. “Ithas been too long. What-twenty, twenty-five years?” She directed a scathing glare at Jules. “Really, Doodle darling, you shouldn’t have letthis old grouch keep you away so long. But look at you! You’re absolutelylovely! And sothin! I swear, honey, you haven’t gained anounce in the last forty years! Oh, that California lifestyle… I should’ve followed you out there, honey. Instead of staying put in this moldy,unhealthy dump of a town with ol‘ stuck-in-the-mud Jules here.”
“Hi, Mo,” Jules said from the doorway. “Nice to see you, too, darlin‘.”
Dinah, one of the club’s other strippers, pushed her way past Jules into the dressing room. “Hey, Maureen, any chance I can borrow some baby powder?” She eyed Doodlebug with interest. “Who’s this snazzy little guest of yours? This one looks like a better class of people than you usually hang with.”
Maureen looked irritated at the interruption, but she opted to be gracious. “Dinah, this is Doodlebug; Doodlebug, Dinah. Doodle here is one of my very oldest friends on earth. Actually, her name’s Debbie, which we shortened to D.B.-that’s whereDoodlebug comes from.”
“Real pleased to meet you, Doodlebug.” Dinah shook the visitor’s hand. “Hey! That’s a strong grip you’ve got there. Especially for a little gal.”
“Thanks. I spend a lot of time in the gym. Sometimes I think my nickname should beNautilus.”
“Say…” Dinah ran a fish-eyed glance up and down the newcomer’s svelte form. “This is awful rude of me to ask, but… you’re aguy, ain’tchu? Or you used to be a guy?”
Jules chuckled. Maureen gasped in horror. But Doodlebug merely smiled Mona Lisa-like. “Actually, I follow a strict ‘Don’t ask, don’t tell’ policy.”
Dinah snorted. “Uh-huh. I hear ya. Not that it’sobvious or anything-only reason I picked up on it is that I’m a professional. Adam’s apple’s just abit too big. And honestly, those legs of yours are justtoo good for any real woman to be walkin‘ around with.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Doodlebug said, smiling.
“Please do. And that’s someincredible boob job you’ve had done. Real natural, honey. So how about that baby powder, Maureen?”
Maureen grabbed hold of Dinah’s shoulders and pushed her toward the door. “I’m all out, okay? Go pester one of the other girls.”
“But you got two great big containers right there-”
Maureen slammed the door shut as soon as she’d pushed Dinah into the hallway. “Oh, Doodlebug, I am sosorry! I simply can’t believe how rude and obnoxious some people can be! I’m going to seriously reconsider the value of my friendship with that brazen hussy!”
Doodlebug took her hand. “Oh, never you mind. No harm was done. Actually, I like being ‘made’ now and then. Reminds me when I need to sharpen up my act.” He closed his eyes a few seconds, and his brow furrowed with concentration. The petite vampire’s throat wiggled as if he were gargling with Jell-O cubes, and the slight prominence of his Adam’s apple shrank from sight. At the same time the contours of his thighs changed, becoming softer and less muscular.
“Whoa!” Jules said. “How’d you pull that off?”
Doodlebug opened his eyes and smiled. “Oh, it’s no big accomplishment. It just takes a little practice, that’s all. Give me an evening or two, and I’m sure I could teach you to do the same.”
“No thanks! Seein‘ you do it is creepy enough!”
Maureen moved to shush him. “Jules, cut the crap. Doodlebug just flew in all the way from California. I’m sure his time is way too valuable to be taken up with your foolishness. Now, Doodle, I explained to you on the phone a couple of nights ago this whole big mess that Jules has gotten himself into. You’ve probably already figured out some brilliant plans for how we can keep this big doofus from getting his head handed to him. I’dlove to hear them. I’ve got forty-five minutes before I have to go on.”
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 accompli
shed 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.
Doodlebug rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Look, Jules, I want to help you achieve whatyou want. Okay? Obviously, moving you somewhere else isnot what you want. So let’s spend tonight trying to figure out how to get you what youdo want, which is living here in New Orleans in some semblance of peace. How about we begin with your telling me everything that’s happened to you in the past four weeks.”
Jules grunted his assent. Doodlebug threw some paper towels on the spilled coffee, then poured his friend another cup and sat down to listen. Jules told him almost everything, starting with the night he’d picked up Bessie and ended up playing reluctant host to Malice X. Being particularly proud of his infiltration of the Moss Avenue police station, Jules blew that part of the story way out of proportion. He was also very liberal in describing his heroic attempts to rescue his irreplaceable collectibles from the fire. Conversely, he said exceedingly little about his five-day exile in Baton Rouge. About his encounter with the gorgeous (but possibly deadly) plus-sized model, Veronika, Jules said nothing at all.
Doodlebug rubbed his powdered chin for several long moments. “There are some things about your story that don’t make any sense to me,” he said at last.
“Such as-?”
“If Malice X really wants to kill you, he’s failed to take advantage of some ideal opportunities.”
“Maybe he’s just sloppy. Or maybe I been lucky so far.”
“Maybe. But aside from your altercation with the three would-be assassins, he’s been content at each encounter to either warn you or try to push you out of what he sees as his territory. And he’s certainly known for the last three nights that you’re back in New Orleans, but with the exception of that one attack, you’ve remained unmolested. Wouldn’t you think he’d have the entire Quarter crawling with his spies and killers by now, if he truly wanted to do you in?”
Jules fished a few stray coffee grounds out of the bottom of his cup with a sterling-silver spoon. “Well, yeah, I guess. But I been real careful these last few nights. You shoulda seen the outfit I put together last night, fer instance-I mean, I wasreally incognito-“
“I’m sure it was a good disguise, Jules, but I still get the feeling you’re being let off lightly. It’s almost as if your opponent wants to drag this out. As if he’s taking pleasure in humiliating and harassing you.“
“Huh.” Jules raised an eyebrow. “Well, I sure wouldn’t put it past the bum.”
Doodlebug sat back down and
leaned across the table, staring intently into his friend’s face. “And here’s another question for you. Why do you suppose this Malice X hatesyou so much?“
Jules grunted. “Ain’t no big mystery aboutthat. Black guys have been gettin‘ the short end of the stick for a long time, since way before I was around. You and me both remember the Jim Crow days here in
New Orleans, so those days weren’t so far back. I’m a white guy. He’s a black guy. He resents me for it. That’s the Song of the South, pal-oldest story around these parts. Case closed.“
“Is it?”
“Why the hell not?”
“You aren’t theonly white vampire in New Orleans. Why hasn’t Malice X gone after the others?”
Jules rolled his eyes. “That’s easy. Besthoff and Katz and them are holed up in their compound on
Bamboo Road, where Malice X can’t get at ‘em. That place of theirs is like a damn fortress.“
“I wasn’t talking about Katz and Besthoff.”
“Who else is there?”
Doodlebug paused before answering. “Maureen.”
Jules winced involuntarily. “Huh? What’re you saying?”
“Think about it. Maureen sustains herself on victims she lures from her club. Considering that place’s clientele, surely not every one of those victims has been a white man. But she hasn’t been singled out for any warnings or attacks by this gang of black vampires. Why is that?“
Jules chewed his lower lip. “Ehh… I don’t think I like what you’re implyin‘ here. Mo can’t be tangled up in this. Nother. I mean, she gave me a place to stay after Baton Rouge, no questions asked. With all our history an’ all.”
“I don’t like to think it, either, Jules. But these questions won’t go away. I think that, very soon, you and I need to sit down with Maureen and ask them to her face.”
Fat White Vampire Blues Page 20
