Vampire a Go-Go

TWO

The Pacific Ocean was just swallowing the sun as Allen left campus in his four-door, V-8 crapmobile, the red-orange rays sizzling on the water. Only a pale pink smear of daylight remained by the time he parked last in a long line of cars on Dr. Evergreen’s street. He followed the cars up to the house, but it was completely dark by the time he stepped onto the front porch and knocked.

Nobody answered.

Distantly he heard muted music and the hubbub of many voices. He raised his fist to knock again.

“The party is in the garden around back.”

Startled, Allen sucked breath, took a step back.

He hadn’t seen her there, on the porch swing, shadows and hanging ferns making her seem as if she’d floated in darkness, only the ice blue eyes glowing out at him. She stood, approached Allen, her face coming into focus.

She was somehow light and dark at the same time, some smiling Celtic goddess, features like delicate china, skin so white it glowed, absorbing light, leaving an aura of darkness all around her. A breeze kicked up, lifted her hair, black and shining like obsidian. She seemed to float toward him, eyes flashing cold and terrible, hair streaming behind like black flame.

Like some sort of terrifying shampoo commercial.

Allen wanted to flee. He wanted to kneel and pledge his soul to her. He didn’t know what the hell he wanted to do.

“You must be Allen.”

He blinked. The spell was broken. Allen was aware of warm sweat in his armpits, behind his ears. What’s wrong with me?

“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “I thought there was-I was invited-”

“The party is around back.” She moved as she spoke, graceful and silent, suddenly on his left, her slender arm looping into his. “I’ll walk you around. It’s in the garden.”

Then he was on a path. He felt light, like part of him was still back on the front porch.

“You know me, but I don’t… have we met?”

She laughed softly, the sound of delicate hamster bones crushed under the heel of a tall black boot. Like dry leaves blowing across the cold stone of an ancient tomb. Like… Pay attention. She’s talking.

“I’m Cassandra.”

The name was familiar. “Dr. Evergreen’s wife?”

“Yes. He’ll be glad you’re here.”

“I’m looking forward to working with him.”

The slow smile on her face knew the lie.

Allen swallowed hard, felt the warm trickle of sweat down his back. The night was cool, but Allen felt flushed, a little dizzy.

They emerged from the path into a circle of light, to find a line of Chinese lanterns strung through the trees, a gazebo, people milling about a table of drinks and food, tinny music from hidden speakers. He recognized faculty, some of his fellow graduate students. He stood a moment, wondering what to do first. Maybe get a glass of wine? Or should he say hello to Dr. Evergreen?

He asked Cassandra, “Should I find Dr. Evergreen and-”

The woman at his elbow was gone.

“Okay, that’s… weird.”

He waded into the party. He did not see Dr. Evergreen or his wife. He felt awkward and wished he’d waited for Penny so he would have had someone to talk to. He zigzagged his way to the wine table, grabbed a random jug of red, and filled a plastic cup. He tasted it. Good. He read the label on the giant jug. Three Thieves’ Red. Horse-riding desperados adorned the label, pistols in the air. Allen had had Dr. Evergreen pegged as too pretentious for jug wine, but maybe he had the guy all wrong. Maybe this would all be okay after all.

Allen accidentally bumped someone behind him. Purple wine spilled over his knuckles.

“Watch it, douche bag.”

Allen mumbled an apology, then saw it was Kurt Ramis, one of the testosterone-driven fiction writers from the MFA program. He wore a leather bomber jacket with a patch representing a fictional squadron. Shoulder-length, auburn hair carefully arranged to seem windblown, square jaw. Kurt thought he was the next Hemmingway; most of his fiction involved shooting large animals and getting laid.

“Hey, don’t sweat it,” Kurt said. “How’s the Jane Austen studies coming? They fit you for a dress yet?”

“You’re hilarious. And it’s the Brontë sisters.”

The two girls on either side of Kurt giggled, but one of them said, “Be nice.”

“Whatever. Come on, ladies, and sit with me in the gazebo. I’ll tell you about the novel I’m working on. A rugged game hunter must guide a spoiled heiress through the Alaskan wilderness. It’s got bestseller written all over it.”

Asshole.

Allen decided to leave. To hell with it.

He stopped, spotted Penny emerging from the sliding glass doors in the rear of Evergreen’s house. She wore a black cocktail dress, the modest V of her neckline showing a hint of healthy pink skin. She was rosy-cheeked; hair done up and back. Allen was impressed. Penny actually looked like a girl. She was almost pretty.

She saw him, and her smile widened bright and white. She skipped over to Allen.

“You look good,” he said.

“You think?” She did a little half spin. “I’ve had this dress for a while but not an excuse to wear it. Have you talked to Dr. Evergreen yet?”

“I haven’t seen him. I was just getting ready to leave.”

“Oh, don’t do that. I just got here.”

“I can stay another few minutes, I guess.”

She smiled, and Allen did too. When she smiles like that, she is pretty, I guess.

He shuffled awkwardly, suddenly found it not so easy to talk to her.

“I could use some wine,” she said gently.

“Oh, yeah. Okay. Let me get it.”

He wriggled his way through the crowd back to the table, refilled his plastic cup with Three Thieves’ Red, and filled a new one for Penny. He felt like he was at senior prom. Nervous. Snap out of it. It’s just Penny. Good old pal Penny.

He brought the wine back, handed her a cup. They stood, drank. He put his free hand in his pocket, shuffled his feet. The party ebbed and flowed around them.

“This is good wine,” she said.

“Yes.” He looked at her, looked away again.

She moved in closer to him, surreptitiously pointed with her pinky at a young girl in denim across the party, and whispered in Allen’s ear, “She’s in my poetry workshop and wrote a poem about a professor she has a crush on. You don’t think it’s Dr. Evergreen, do you?”

He snorted laughter, covered his mouth. They huddled together, whispering a game guessing the life stories of the other party guests based on how they looked. They laughed, and it was easy. This was good old Penny. Everything was right again.

“That girl in the thrift-store dress is creepy,” Penny said. “I heard her boyfriend dumped her and she just started cutting her leg with a kitchen knife. Just sat there, sawing bloody lines into her thigh.”

Speaking of creepy… “Have you ever met Dr. Evergreen’s wife?” Allen asked.

Penny shook her head. “But I’ve seen her with Dr. Evergreen at parties and readings. She looked beautiful, but sort of distant. You’ve met her?”

“Briefly.”

“What’s she like?”

“I’m not really sure,” Allen said. He found he could hardly remember her face. “She’s light on her feet, I know that.”

Penny grinned. “What the heck does that mean?”

Allen started to explain when the hysterical woman found them.

“Oh, my God, Penny, you are not going to believe it.” The new girl was petite, with sharp features, short black hair, a plaid skirt, and stylish white blouse. Pearls. Allen had seen her around the department and thought of her as Back East pretty. Red eyes. Tears had smeared her makeup. She swallowed great, heaving sobs between words.

She latched onto Penny. People stared openly.

“Calm down, Blanche,” Penny patted her friend on the shoulder. “Let’s go this way. Come on, honey.”

Penny led Blanche away from the gawkers, around the side of the house and under a low tree. Not knowing what else to do, Allen followed.

“Now, take a breath.” Penny held her friend by the forearms, looked her square in the eyes.

“It’s K-Kurt,” Blanche said. “I s-saw him kissing that skank Missy Logan in the woods next to Dr. Evergreen’s house.”

Penny frowned, shook her head. “I’m so sorry, Blanche. I warned you about him.”

“Missy f-fucking Logan,” spat Blanche. “She’s a cow! Why would he-” Her words were lost in a new torrent of wailing and hand-wringing.

“I didn’t see him with Missy earlier,” Allen said. “He was with two other women.”

Blanche wailed even louder, then threw herself onto Penny’s shoulder, tears and snot flowing freely. Penny patted her friend’s back and shot an accusing look at Allen.

Allen shrugged. “I’m just saying-”

“Well, don’t,” Penny said.

Allen mouthed, “Sorry.” Then he took a step back.

“I’ve a good mind to find that boy and chew his ass right off,” Penny said. “Blanche, honey, stay here and pull yourself together. There’s a lot of people at this party, and you don’t want to give that rat-fuck Kurt the satisfaction.”

Blanche sobbed and nodded.

“Allen, stay with Blanche.”

“Me? But-”

“Stay!”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Hold this.” Penny handed Allen her wine, stalked off, her fists clenched in righteous woman rage.

Allen looked at Blanche and cleared his throat. “That Kurt guy. He’s an asshole, you know? You’re better off without him.”

Blanche sniffed.

“Uh… can I get you a drink or something?”

Blanche nodded, sniffed again.

“Okay. Stay put. I’ll be right back.”

Allen found the Thieves again, filled another plastic cup. Might as well top off his own drink and Penny’s. He drained the jug.

Two hands. Three cups. He gathered them into an awkward triangle, tried to walk, spilling purple over his hands. He slowed his walk, hunching over, balancing the wine. He looked at the wine as he walked, so deep and dark, like fresh blood. The blood of thieves.

He wasn’t watching where he was going and crashed into someone, knocking all three cups of wine down his front, staining his shirt and pants. He gasped at the splash of liquid, bit back a string of vulgarities.

He stepped back, looked at the bearlike figure before him.

“Jesus Christ, kid. You smell like a Napa Valley wino.”

Allen gulped. “Sorry, Dr. Evergreen. I hope I didn’t get any on you.”