Fat White Vampire Blues

by Andrew J. Fox

  The next knocks were different.Shave-and-a-haircut-two-bits! Not Doodlebug’s style. Doodlebug wasn’t musical or rhythmic in the least. “Who’s out there?”

  “You gonna stay in that box fo’ever, or what?”

  Despite his irritation at being disturbed again, Jules smiled. He knew the voice well. It was Erato. “Maybe. I kinda like it in here.”

  “You know who this is?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Is that all you got to say-Yeah? Man, you had me worriedsick these past few weeks. Last time I seen you, I drop you off, then the next mornin‘ my wife tells me she saw yo’ house burnin‘ down on the news. I figures you’s gonna call, let me know what’s happenin’, so I leaves my cell phone on. For the next three days straight, I leaves it on, constantly poppin‘ in fresh batt’ries. I drops by the Trolley Stop every chance I gets, hopin’ I’d bump into you or at least hear some word.Nothin‘. It’s like you fallen off the earth. Finally, I go see yo’ friend Maureen at her club, and she say she ain’t seen you, neither. What the hell been up with you, Jules?”

  Great.More guilt. Just what he needed to be feeling right now. “Look, I’m really sorry, Erato. I really am. It’s a helluva long story, pal. And most of it I can’t tell you-”

  “Oh, Iknow. If you tells me, you hafta kill me.”

  “Right.”

  “Yo‘ friend Miss Doodlebug-cuteli’l thing, by the way-she tells me you’s in a big-ass funk because of lady troubles.”

  “That’s one way of tellin‘ it, yeah.”

  “Well, you listen here. Ain’t no woman on this earth worth crawlin‘ in a box for. Now me, Ilove women. I’m married to one. Got another one for a daughter. But women… they’scrazy, man. Got somethin’ to do with their hormones or somethin‘. And another thing-women can’t help it if they got this giant power to hurt us in the heart. It ain’t their fault, see. That’s just the way things is. If you’s honest, you hafta admit thatwe got the same power overthem. Maybe not in yourparticular case, but in the big scheme a things, anyhow.”

  Jules mulled over what his friend was telling him. It made sense, or it seemed to. Unfortunately, nothing Erato had said was motivating Jules to leave his box one bit. “Yeah… So how’s your family doin‘, Erato. Everybody okay?”

  “Oh, fine, fine. My little girl’s none too happy about her score on those SATs. She wants to go to LSU in Baton Rouge, see. I told her she got plenty of time to retake that test. Worse come to worse, she can go to that junior college, Delgado, for a couple of years and get her grades up. Then she can go to Baton Rouge if she still want to.”

  Jules knew his friend was acting more nonchalant than he really felt. Erato’s big dream for years had been that his daughter Lacrecia would go to a top-notch college and start a prestigious career. That was a good part of the reason Erato worked himself the way he did, pulling both day and night shifts with the cab company. His friend the family man had aspirations and worries Jules could only vaguely imagine. “I hope she can pull those test scores up,” Jules said. “So both of you can get what you really want. I know you got a buncha stuff weighin‘ on your mind, Erato. I’m sorry I been addin’ to it. I never meant to.”

  “Yeah. I know. You got a good heart. So are you comin‘ outta that piano box or not? All the guys over at the Trolley Stop been askin’ ‘bout you. Even them guys that grumble ’bout you takin‘ up too much space at the bar. So what I should tell ’em all, huh?”

  Jules felt trapped. By the box, by people’s expectations of him, by luck that seemed to get worse and worse with each rising of the moon. Staying right where he was seemed to be the least of all possible evils. But eventhat was causing pain to people he cared for. “Aww, shit if I know, Erato… just tell ‘em all to be patient. I still got a lot to think out. I don’t know when I’m comin’ out. If ever. Just lemme think, lemme think… there’s so fuckin‘ much to think about, y’know?”

  “Well, don’t be thinkin‘too much-too much thinkin’s what done Elvis in. He stopped singin’ and started thinkin‘ too much, and then he sat down on that toilet and youknow what happened then.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind, pal.”

  “You do. And I ain’t gonna ferget aboutchu, y’hear? I be back soon. By the way, whose Looney Tune idea was it to put apiano box in this itty-bitty room, anyway? You lie in there much longer, I’s gonna think you’s some kindavampire or somethin‘. Ain’t neverheard of such nonsense over a woman before. Shee-yit! ”

  “So long, pal. Take care.” Jules felt a tiny but growing urge to jump out of the box and chase after Erato, then follow his friend over to the Trolley Stop. But he wasn’t quite ready to leave the comfort of the buffering darkness.

  He heard the door open again. “Jules, it’s Doodlebug. Since you’re still boxed, I take it that Erato’s visit was less than fruitful?”

  Jules felt tears welling up behind his eyes. A sob caught in his throat. He felt like he was six years old again, nursing a stinging bloody lip from a schoolyard brawl, and for the first time ever, his mother wasn’t there to protect him. He was abandoned. Betrayed. Alone.

  “Aww, Doodlebug, why’d she hafta go and do what she did?”

  His friend sighed. “Oh, Jules… I wish I had a good answer for you. I wish people were more perfect than they are, that they’d always be consistent and make wise decisions. I wish I could wave a magic wand and make your hurt go away, and give you back your house and your car, and make all your enemies take up gardening instead of running you ragged. But I can’t do any of those things.”

  “So what are you tellin‘ me? That life sucks and I just gotta get used to it?”

  “No, not exactly… Maybe the best thing I can say is this. Sometimes people find themselves in a situation that makes them do things they never imagined they’d ever do. Sometimes a man is starving and desperate and alone, and he becomes a wolf who pushes aside a hungry mutt for a few mouthfuls of dry dog food. And maybe that wolf-man then finds himself caught in the power of his animal senses, and he climbs on that mutt and mounts her, despite the revulsion his human brain is feeling. If you’d told me a year ago that you would never,never eat dog food and have sex with a mutt, and then everything happened the way it did, would that make you a hypocrite?”

  “Uh, I dunno…”

  “Maureen was alone, Jules. Whether your leaving was her fault or not, she was still alone, for the first time in many years. And Maureen’s never been the kind of woman who tolerates aloneness well. She was terribly lonely. And so she did something she’d thought she’d never do. Something she told youyou should never do, even. She never thought she’d be hurting you, or putting you in danger. All she was thinking of was companionship. If you’d just let yourself, I’ll bet you could feel some empathy for her. Some sense of understanding.”

  Jules didn’twant to understand. He wanted to stay bitter and hurt and mad as hell at Maureen. He wanted to nurse it for all it was worth. But what Erato and Doodlebug had said made sense, loath as he was to admit it. He thought back to where his head had been during his miserable week in Baton Rouge. If Maureen had experienced even a tenth of that pain and desperation after she’d ordered him to leave, he couldn’t rightfully damn her for grasping another companion to her ample bosom. Even if that companion ended up being a nasty shit like Malice X.

  From the next room, low music infiltrated his makeshift coffin. Jules strained to hear the notes. He could just make out the tune. Jules smiled a small, hesitant smile. It was Bix Beiderbecke playing “Tin Roof Blues.”

  “Hey, turn that up, would ya?”

  No answer. The bits of melody were followed by a powerful, mouthwatering aroma. Coffee. Freshly ground chicory coffee, strong as armor plate, being brewed tantalizingly close. If he listened hard, he could hear the heavenly liquid slowly coming into existence, transmuted from the ordinary elements of water and grounds…drip, drip, drip.

  Jules grinned. So the little mascara maniac was trying to lure him out of the box. Jules had to gi
ve him an A+ for effort. Wouldn’t be right to let all that energy go to waste.What the fuck… guess it’s time for this ol‘ caterpillar to leave the cocoon.

  He slowly lifted the lid of the piano box. The lights in the room were off. Doodlebug had lit some candles instead. Good kid; he hadn’t wanted Jules to be smacked in the retinas by a hundred-watt bulb.

  He tried climbing out of the box. Not having been on his feet in nearly three days, his legs buckled at the same instant he lost his balance. He hit the couch like a falling oak, breaking one of the antique’s legs.

  Doodlebug ran from the next room. “Jules! You should’ve asked for help!”

  Sprawled over the slanting couch, Jules grimaced and rubbed his knee. “When have youever known me to ask fer help?You shoulda been standin‘ by, waitin’ to give it to me!”

  Doodlebug helped his friend sit relatively straight on the couch. “Of course. You’re absolutely right. How utterly thoughtless and selfish of me.” He smiled warmly. “What can I get for you?”

  “Your coffee smells like the best thing ever to grace the planet. But I’m hungry as all fuck. And bring me my bottle of Doc Landrieu’s pills. I left ‘em in that dresser, next to my keys.”

  “Your wish is my command,sahib.”

  Doodlebug brought him his pills and two pints of chichi California blood. Jules almost swallowed the mug the blood was served in, he was so hungry. He quickly realized the bullshit behind the old saw that said hunger could make any food taste great. This blood tastedawful. It reminded him of the first time he’d ever drunk skim milk. No richness, no tang, hardly any zing to it at all. But blood was blood, and ravenous as he was, he was in no position to be fussy. He took a second long swig, then hastily opened the pill bottle and counted out six tablets in his palm. He had no idea whether taking that many at once might be bad for him. But the thought of reexperiencing his former state of decrepitude scared him even more. And after all, Doc Landrieu hadn’t told himnot to catch up on his dosage when he missed a pill or three. He gulped the pills down his dry throat two at a time.

  “Feeling any better?”

  Jules felt life seep back into his extremities. “Yeah. I’m startin‘ to.” He pulled his feet out of the piano box. “One thing I been wonderin’ about for the past three nights now. That evil shit you pulled with them Knight supporters-how’d you know gettin‘ them to drink their own blood would make ’em dissolve like that?”

  Doodlebug smiled slyly. “Oh,that little trick. That was a useful bit of vampiric lore I picked up from my spiritual guides in Tibet. They were all vampires themselves, you know. The cornerstone of their wisdom and spiritual practice is the freeing of oneself from vampiric desires. Particularly the desire for blood. All of them were many centuries old. And not a one of them had ever imbibed a single drop.”

  “You’re shittin‘ me. Either that, orthey were shittin’you.”

  “Not at all. They provided me with proof. And the best proof of all was that, during my entire stay of more than three years, I never witnessed any of them drink the blood of men or animals. None of them ever suffered for the lack.”

  “So what’d you eat for three years? Yak gruel? Don’t tell meyou went three years with no blood.”

  Doodlebug stared out the window, his delicate features wistful and sad. “Would that it were so. No, they provided me with ample blood to drink during my stay. I’d been a blood-drinking vampire for far too many years by the time I first heard of their teachings. I could never hope to approach the blissful equilibrium enjoyed by those quiet, serene monks. But that was actually part of the reason they welcomed me to study with them-the fact that I was a confirmed blood drinker. In order to add to the ranks of their order, they need a ‘fallen’ vampire like me on hand. While I was with them, I was the one who turned their human initiates from ordinary seekers to fledgling vampires. When the newborns awoke, they found two objects sitting in front of them… a meditation staff of humble, weathered wood, and a silver bowl filled with blood. The monks directed them to choose only one, the object they most desired. Those who chose the meditation staff were admitted as novices into the lowest ranks of the monks. Those who chose the bowl of blood, well… let’s just say the monks didn’t tolerate failure of will gladly.”

  Jules whistled with grim appreciation. “Wow. That’s really hard-ass. If it wasme being given that choice, I’d end up a puddle of red goo, fer sure. So, like, how many passed the test?”

  “During my thirty-nine months in the monastery, sixty-three initiates came to our mountaintop. Two became novices. After a few months, the sight and odors of bubbling puddles of flesh no longer turned my stomach.”

  “Huh.” Jules stared at his diminutive friend with new eyes. The kid had done some major growing up since Jules had broken off relations three decades ago. Maybe he could be a help in the fight against Malice X after all. “Speaking of turned stomachs, mine’s doin‘ a helluva lot better. Howzabout you and me split that pot of coffee you brewed. Then howzabout we go pay a visit to Miss Maureen.”

  “Jules! You’ve come back! Thank every angel who ever lived!”

  Jules let her embrace him. But he didn’t move a muscle to hug her back. Despite understanding her a little more, he was a long way from forgiving her.

  If Maureen noticed that Jules didn’t return her embrace, she didn’t show it. “Baby, I was worriedsick about you! I thought I might never see you again! I haven’t gone into work the past three nights. I’ve just stayed home, waiting here by the phone, praying that you’d call or come by. Neither of you bothered to tell me where Doodlebug was staying! I was going out of my mind. Simply going out of my mind!”

  Jules said nothing. For a few long seconds an electrically charged silence hung like a thunderhead in Maureen’s living room. Doodlebug was the one who finally broke it. “I’m staying at the Twelve Oaks Guest House. It’s a lovely spot, tucked away on Bayou Road. I have my own goldfish pond…”

  Maureen wasn’t paying attention. She hadn’t taken her eyes off Jules’s face. Her own face wavered between fear and cautious hope. She took his hands and pulled him over to the couch. “Come sit next to me. Come. You have no idea howgood it is to see you.” Their two large forms took up every inch of the spacious couch. She kept one of his hands pressed between hers, nervously kneading and caressing it as though it were a pet dove that might suddenly fly away. “What can I do, Jules? Tell me what I need to do to make things right with you.”

  “Only one thing you can do for me. And that’s rat out Number Two Lover-Boy. Tell me everythin‘ you know about Malice X.”

  Maureen quickly looked away, but Jules caught the frightened look on her face. “What’s-what’s there to tell? It’s beenyears since I spent any real time with him. And they weren’t exactly good times, either. I put as much about him out of my mind as I could.”

  “That ain’t gonna hack it, Maureen. I ain’t takin‘ no excuses. You wanna get back in my good graces? Then you give with the information. You give us somethin’ to go on, somethin‘ to track him back to his burrow with. Spill-I want his name, rank, and serial number, who tailors his zoot suits, where his grandma makes groceries, his fuckin’shoe size, okay?”

  Jules’s litany had reduced Maureen to the verge of tears. “Don’t make me get involved! I’mafraid! He’s capable of anything! Don’t make me tell you things he’ll know came from me…please.”

  Jules’s voice reeked of bitterness. “Baby, you’realready involved. You was involved in this stinkin‘ situation way before I ever was. There’s no backin’ away from it now.”

  “I have to agree with Jules, Maureen.” Doodlebug knelt by Maureen’s side and took her hand in his. “It’s impossible for you to go backward. Your only hope of regaining your balance is to go forward. The more you’re able to help us, the quicker we can find him. And deal with him. The quicker you’ll be out of any possible danger.”

  Maureen’s lower lip quivered. She looked at Jules, then Doodlebug, then back to Jules. “He
… he called himself Eldo Rado. Like the car.”

  “Iknow that already,” Jules said with more irritation than was helpful. “I already got that nugget of info from the goddamn horse’s mouth hisself.”

  Doodlebug waved him off. “Calm down, Jules. She’s made a start. Honey, did he ever tell you his real name? His birth name?”

  “Nuh-no. No, I don’t think he ever did. In fact, I’m sure of it.Eldo Rado was his gang name. He was proud of it. Everyone had to call him that. He never toldanyone his real name. Not that I ever knew of. I think he’d done things… things maybe he didn’t want his family connected with.”

  “Did he tell you the street he grew up on? Which schools he attended?”

  “How about the name of his best friend?” Jules asked. “Or his favorite uncle?”

  “Wait-wait, don’trush me! Give me time tothink. To try to remember. His street… no, no, he never told me that. He grew up in Uptown, I think; I can’t say which part. Central City? Irish Channel? It could’ve been either. Or even Broadmoor. Schools… oh God, Iwish I could remember!”

  “How about a buddy? A relative? He ever introduce you to anyone?”

  “Jules, we weren’t exactlyintimate. He was a very private man. Secretive. I don’t think he wanted his friends to meet me. Nearly all the time we spent together was either at Jezebel’s or at my house. I never saw where he was living. A few times he took me with him to some other clubs, to hear music-”