Maureen swiveled around on her stool. “Oh, but Iwant to ask! I want to heareverything! Jules, how did your brilliant plan work out? I assume from your happy expression that it was asmashing success. And, Doodlebug dear, I justknow you’re feeling a warm glow of satisfaction from backing your friend to the hilt.”
“Maybe if hehad backed me to the hilt,” Jules said, “we woulda accomplished somethin‘ tonight. But thanks to Penelope Pukehead here, all I got to show fer the evening is eight gallons of wasted gas and a sick feelin’ in the pit of my stomach.”
“Jules is a little peeved at me.” Doodlebug reached into his purse and applied a fresh coat of imported French lipstick. “I’m afraid I had to pull the plug on him before things got out of hand.”
“Pull theplug? Isthat what you call what you did? That was the mostdisgustin‘ horror show I ever saw! Those werevampires you killed! Prejudiced idiot vampires, sure, but stillvampires!”
Doodlebug gave Jules an honestly sympathetic look. “It was very unfortunate, yes. But I’m sure once you’ve had a chance to cool off and think the whole thing through, you’ll agree with me that itwas necessary. The only one I feel sorry about, really, is that rabbi’s wife.”
“You didn’t give me achance! I coulda turned ‘em around! Sure, maybe they weren’t as gung-ho as I expected. But if I just coulda talked to them some more, I’mpositive I coulda got maybe half of them to sign on-two-thirds, even! Butnoooooo — you hadda go jump the gun and turn ’em all into piles of goo!”
“My, my! The Grand Alliance is fraying already, is it?” Maureen got off her stool and sashayed toward Jules, aggressively thrusting her stomach before her. “Jules, as uncharacteristically dumb as Doodle has been so far on this visit, you can’t blame him for this latest fiasco. If anything, I’m sure it would’ve turned outworse if he hadn’t have been there with you. You know who you need to be shoveling the blame onto? I’d saylook in the mirror, but unfortunately, that isn’t possible, is it?”
Something in Maureen’s tone of voice got under Jules’s skin. “Yeah? It’s all my fault, huh? I justasked for Malice X and his goons to trash me, that’s what you’re sayin‘?”
Maureen leaned across their twin stomachs, putting her nose an inch from his. “Damn you, Jules Duchon!” Her eyes were afire with anguish and self-loathing, and her voice dripped with bitter resentment. “Itis all your fault! Every second of misery you’ve endured these past three weeks you’ve brought on yourself! Yourself! And you’ve forced me to suffer every miserable second right along with you!”
Jules frowned with befuddlement, not anger. “What’re you talkin‘ about, Mo?”
“Youmade me make him, damn you! You left me alone! I hadno one! Do you have anyidea what that’s like for a woman like me? Do you?Do you? ”
She collapsed onto the couch and buried her face in her hands. As the room filled with the sound of her ragged sobbing, Jules stood still as a gray, weather-beaten statue. Only a twitching in the corner of his mouth betrayed that he still possessed the power of movement.
Doodlebug knelt by Maureen’s side. He gently stroked her hair. “It’s all right, dear. It’s all right… try to get hold of yourself. I suspected it might be something like this. You have to tell us the rest. We need to know everything.”
“Oh God… oh God, please forgive me.” She choked back her sobs and raised her head from her hands. Tears and fingers had smeared her mascara into a mask of spiderwebs. Only her stained forehead and her eyes, turned toward the heavens, showed above the arm of the couch. “Lord, I know I haven’t any right to call on Your name. No right. But if You have any shred of pity for a damned creature like me, please send Your forgiveness.”
“Start at the beginning, Maureen.”
“Ten years ago, we… I just couldn’t live with Jules anymore. He was driving me out of my mind. He wouldn’t listen to anything I’d tell him. He’dsay he was going on a diet, that he’d watch what he was eating. But every month I watched him pile on the pounds, get grosser and grosser. He was destroying himself, destroying the beautiful man I’d wanted to preserve forever… Finally, I just couldn’t take it anymore. I told him to get out. If he refused to take care of himself, he had to get out. I never meant for him to leave, notreally — but he took me at my word. He was too bullheaded, too goddamndense to realize that, yes, I’d reached the end of my rope, but actually I was onlywarning him… I wanted him to shape up, toreform, notleave…”
“So the man who became Malice X… you took him as your lover? He was Jules’s replacement?”
“Oh God… you have tounderstand. The house was soempty. After a few months, the silence was driving me out of my mind. I tried making friends at the club. But there was no one there who could understand me. I even thought about going back to the compound, back to Bamboo Road. But it had been too many years. I couldn’t bear going back there as an utter failure, a fat girl who couldn’t hack it on the outside. I was so lonely… and the men I brought home with me from the club only made it worse. Some of them, they’d try making conversation before we’d have sex… but it never mattered, because I knew that before sunrise, they’d be stiff as day-old doughnuts, and I’d be stuffing them down the furnace chute. White, colored, Spanish, Chinese… after a while, I hardly paid attention anymore. Going down the chute, they all had the same face. Exactly the same dumb, surprised, frozen face.
“One night, I noticed this young man staring at me. Oh, sure, they allstared, but this one was looking at me different-like he was appreciating me as a woman, not just as a slab of dancing meat. For weeks he came back, five, six nights a week. A colored kid, but he was young, good looking. And he had beautiful eyes. A beautiful smile. I waited for him to approach me like the older men did, the ones I’d end up taking back to the house. But he was shy. Finally one nightI approachedhim. I took him home with me. The night went like it usually did. But after I drank him dry, I stared at him lying there in my bed, and his face wasdifferent… Never in a million years did I think I’d do it, but I didn’t stuff him down the chute. I let him lie there in peace, lie there until he woke up-”
“I can’t listen to no more of this,” Jules said.
Maureen, eyes wide with terror, turned toward the dead, listless sound of her ex-lover’s voice. “Jules? Jules, you have tounderstand, I had noidea what would happen later-”
He slowly shook his head, a rusted automaton who could barely heed the commands of distant, weak radio waves. “I ain’t listenin‘ to one more word. C’mon, Doodlebug. Let’s get out of here.”
The cross-dressing vampire’s face was torn, conflicted. His words, usually so confidently spoken, were hesitant, almost mumbled. “Jules-I think-I really think she needs us, right now, to be here with her. Let’s hear her out-”
Jules turned and walked to the door. He opened it. In a low tone, speaking into the hallway, he said, “Either you’re with her. Or you’re with me. Your choice. I’m going now.”
“My whole life is a piece a shit.”
“No, it’s not.”
Jules and Doodlebug were sitting at a small, dirty, back corner table at the St. Charles Tavern. Jules hadn’t wanted to go anywhere he might see people he knew. Aside from a few listless neighborhood types sitting at the bar, the dim, sour-smelling tavern was deserted; most of its ex-clientele was just up the street a few blocks, at the Trolley Stop Cafй.
“Sure it is. Sure it is. One big piece a shit. When I was tellin‘ you about that time two weeks ago I ran away to Baton Rouge, I didn’t tell you the whole story. I did stuff I’m ashamed of. Stuff I’ll never forget as long as I’m still walkin’ this earth.”
Doodlebug slowly stirred his cup of coffee. “I’m sure it doesn’t really matter, Jules. We’ve all done things we’re, eh, less than happy with. Even me.” He smiled, briefly, perhaps hoping to spark a smile in return. It didn’t work.
Jules’s face, usually so animated as to appear rubbery, was a mask of petrified wood. “You ever fucked a stray dog?” And t
hen it was all pouring out of him-his befriending the dog on the streets of Baton Rouge, how he stole dog food for her and then, violating all the rules of civilized vampirism, turned to a wolf so he could share her meal. Finally, he came to the worst part.
Jules’s face was the color of slate. “I got no idea what came over me. One minute I was lying on the ground, feelin‘ like my stomach would burst from all the food I wolfed down. Next thing I know is, all I canthink about is sniffin’ that dog’s ass. I never experienced anything like it in my life. It was like every part of me got shut off except my dick and my nose. Before I could begin to get a handle on what I was feelin‘, I’m leanin’ on her and doin‘ the business. One part of me was totally disgusted-I mean, I was rapin’ this poor, helpless animal, and besides, I had my dick inside adog. Even if it was a wolf dick at the time. But this other part of me… Doodlebug, I ain’t admitted this to nobody. Before now, I ain’t even admitted it to myself. But part of me was enjoyin‘ it. Part of me was happy I wasn’t alone no more, even if my mattress partner was a flea-ridden mutt. And part of me was totally into it, all the sensations, the smells… the feelin’ of bein‘ totally outta control.”
Doodlebug was speechless for a minute. Another customer came in, and the whir and clatter of a passing streetcar blew through the open door, along with a paper Burger King cup from up the street. Doodlebug took a sip of his coffee. “I don’t really know what to say, Jules.” He tried forcing another smile. “Uh… if your friend has puppies, will you name one after me?”
Jules seemed not to hear. “And nowthis. How could she’ve done it? Ruin my life, then lie to me and lie to me and lie even more. Y’know, Mo waseverything to me. She made me into a vampire, so she was almost my second mother. She taught me practically everything I know about bein‘ a vampire; just like what I taught you. And when I first laid eyes on her, I knew right then, she was the most gorgeous woman I ever saw, and the most gorgeous woman I ever would see. I could hardly believe it when she picked me-me! — to be her number one guy. Her paramour, she called me. More years than not, she was my best friend, too; apart from maybe Erato. I mean, for chrissakes, we was practicallymarried. She was as close to a wife as I’ll ever have.
“And you wanna know the worst thing of all? I worshiped that woman. I always figured she was better than me. Why else you think I took her shit all those years? Every time she’d get all sarcastic on me, I’d tell myself, ‘Jules, just shut up and take it. You must deserve it, so hear her out and maybe you’ll learn somethin’. She’s a smart woman, and she’s a better vampire than you, and she knows what she’s doin‘.’ Even when I couldn’t do what she told me, couldn’t get it right, I alwaystried. What do ya think kept me goin‘ this past month, when everythin’ I touched was turnin‘ to shit? The thought that, no matter what happens to me, no matter how bad I screw up, Mo’ll still take me back. And if Mo would take me back, then I must be worth somethin’.
“But you know what? She ain’t better than me. She’s not. Since before you was born, she been tellin‘ me, over and over, beatin’ it into my head like a nail: Don’t make no colored vampires. Like this was the biggest goddamn sin in the world. And I was tempted, too; lots of times. Both before you came on the scene and after you left, I had a few good pals who was black. Guys who weren’t married and didn’t have no kids, who woulda enjoyed the undead life. Plenty of times I thought to myself how great it would be to have a good buddy who was a vampire like me. But always, like a big glowin‘ neon sign, her words were in my head: Don’t be makin’ no colored vampires. And I figured she knew better than me. ‘Cause I figured shewas better than me. But she ain’t no better than me. She’s nothing more than a liar and a goddamn hypocrite. And I got this lousy feelin’ that things ain’t gettin‘ any better for me. I thought maybe they would. I thought maybe I could somehow get back the life I had before all this. But everything’s goin’ downhill, Doodlebug. Shit rolls downhill. And that’s where I’m headin‘. Downhill.”
The door opened again, and a breeze blew the dirty Burger King cup against Jules’s shoe. He didn’t bother kicking it away. Doodlebug didn’t try cracking a joke this time. He looked at Jules’s still-full cup of coffee, gone cold. “Can I go to the bar and get you a fresh cup?”
“No thanks. I don’t want none.”
“Whatdo you want? What can I do for you?”
Jules tried thinking. It was a slow process. He felt like his thoughts were drowning in a pan of congealed brown gravy. “Can I stay with you for a while? All I feel like doin‘ is sleeping. I can’t… there ain’t no way I’m goin’ back where I was stayin‘ before.”
Doodlebug spoke to the concierge at the bed-and-breakfast. The concierge, happy recipient of a generous tip, woke the owner and explained the situation. The owner, very well connected and quite sympathetic to the unique needs of California’s creative community, made a series of calls. Following a flurry of negotiations, which resulted in a five-hundred-dollar charge on Doodlebug’s American Express corporate card and a sworn promise that he would make a thousand-dollar donation to Associated Catholic Charities the following day, the owner of Werlein’s Music Stores had an empty grand-piano case delivered to Doodlebug’s cottage that night. The huge wooden box, complete with hinged top, filled all but a few square feet of floor space in the suite’s sitting room.
Doodlebug was obviously pleased with what he’d been able to accomplish on such short notice. But Jules barely acknowledged the help. He took a pitcher from the kitchen and slowly walked outside. He returned a few minutes later, the pitcher filled with clumpy dirt dug from the perimeter of the goldfish pond, and tossed the dirt into the open piano case.
“Jules, maybe we should drive back to your old house and collect some earth there? What do you think?”
“Don’t wanna bother.”
“But are you sure dirt from the yard here will, you know, work for you?”
“Guess I’ll find out come morning time, won’t I?”
“That’s not a very reassuring answer.”
“It’s good enough for me.”
Jules stepped onto the couch, which the delivery men had pushed against the wall, then climbed down into the piano case. With Doodlebug’s help, he lowered the top above his head. Then he lay down in the thin sprinkling of dirt. Thanks to the assortment of overstuffed pillows Doodlebug had thoughtfully provided, Jules found the box surprisingly comfortable. The darkness was soothing. He closed his eyes. The blackness and quiet beckoned to him like old, dear friends.
Jules very quickly lost track of time. His periods of dreaming and wakefulness blurred together into an undifferentiated mush of memories, regrets, and dark fantasies. Maureen frequently joined him and his mother in his dreams. Their alliances were constantly shifting. Sometimes Jules and his mother would be heaping abuse on Maureen. Sometimes his mother would be savagely berating Maureen and him together. And other times, the worst times of all, his mother and Maureen would act as a tag team of women wrestlers, leaping off the ropes and pounding him with wooden folding chairs or strangling him in choke holds.
An indefinite time later, Jules was startled by a sharp series of knocks on his box. “Jules? It’s Doodlebug. Are you awake in there?”
“I am now.”
“Look, I’m going out for a while. Can I get you anything?”
“Where are you goin‘?”
“Just out for some air. If you want something, just tell me, and I’ll take your car and go get it.”
“Can you get me a time machine, maybe? So I can go back to ten years ago?”
“No can do, Jules. Sorry.”
Jules thought for a while. “Y’know what I’d really like? Some comics to read. Captain America or The
Sub-Mariner-“
“Hang on a second. I’m writing this down.” A little while later he said, “Okay, got it. Where are your keys?”
“In the top drawer of the dresser, next to my wallet.”
“Before I go, can I get you a pi
nt of blood from the ‘fridge?”
“Naww. I ain’t hungry.”
That was a lie. Jules’s stomach was rumbling like an empty garbage truck bouncing over the potholes of Tchoupitoulas Street. But he refused to eat anything. Some time later, Doodlebug returned with a bag full of comics, a stand-up flashlight, and a big package of batteries. Jules loaded the batteries into the flashlight, read a few comics, then drifted back into sleep. He dreamed of better, prouder, happier nights, nights when he’d helped win the Second World War as the mighty Hooded Terror.
He was jarred awake by more knocking. “Jules, I need to discuss something with you.”
Jules stretched (as best he could in the confined space) and yawned. “Yeah, what you need?”
“I have a friend over at theTimes-Picayune. Actually, he’s not so much a friend as a cyber-acquaintance; I got to know him through a cross-dressers’ chat room on America Online. Anyway, he works nights, so I took what we know about Malice X to him, and he agreed to search the newspaper’s computer archives of old articles to see if he could dig up any information for us. But I couldn’t tell him enough to get him started. You told me that Malice X was once a teenage felon who called himself Eldo Rado. My friend couldn’t find any mention of an ‘Eldo Rado’ in any crime reports from the last fifteen years. He’s probably in there somewhere. Maybe the newspaper lists his legal name, or possibly another alias. We need to ask Maureen some more questions. She might be able to help us get more of a lead on him.”
“You want more information?You go ask her. I’m stayin‘ put right where I am.”
“I really think weboth need to go question her.”
“Ferget it. Ain’t gonna happen.”
“Jules, I think it’s time you come out of your box for a while.”
“It’s time whenI say it’s time.”
That put an end tothat. By now, Jules’s stomach felt like a rabid iguana was inside, scratching furiously to get out. He did his best to ignore it. He put fresh batteries in the flashlight and reread the last two stories in his Justice Society of America comic. The final page ended on a cliff-hanger: The entire Justice Society was chained to a huge rock, prisoners of the evil Ultra-Humanite in his underground cavern fortress. The leering villain was preparing to turn a death ray on the helpless heroes when the comic came to a sudden end. A final caption teased readers with the excitement… to come in another thirty days. Jules could hardly believe the effrontery-when he’d been a young vampire, comic books had been a full sixty-four pages, and stories werealways complete. What a cheap, underhanded marketing scheme! He might bedead in another thirty days, not just undead!
Fat White Vampire Blues Page 22
