10. Brody
Brody
I’m already in my pyjamas and lounging in front of the TV eating Wotsits dipped in ketchup when Matt gets a message.
“We’re going out,” he says, turning to look at me from his spot on the other side of the corner sofa.
I don’t even answer, just wave a hand up and down myself. This is not the picture of a man who’s desperate to leave the house.
Matt huffs. “So, you remember Clara?”
“Ari’s friend?” I ask, my interest suddenly piqued.
“Yeah. We swapped numbers. She said she could introduce me around a bit, you know.” He does this funny little shoulder shrug, as if it’s all nothing at all.
“Introduce you to…?”
“Just like other vampires and stuff.” Again with that casual nonchalance.
“But you always said you didn’t want to hang out with them.” I don’t add that he always promised it would be the two of us against the world and this sounds very much like he’s looking for new friends to hang out with.
“I know. But… it’s just.” He can’t look at me.
I try not to let the hurt and disappointment wash over me.
It isn’t fair and I’m acutely aware of it.
Of course I knew the promises we made as kids would eventually unravel.
It isn’t Matt’s fault he’s a vampire and he’s going to stay this age now, almost as if he’s frozen in time as I continue to get older.
He needs vampire friends, people he can go clubbing with when I’m fifty and can’t bear the music anymore, people who will still be around when I’m gone.
There’s nothing like having a vampire best friend to make you fully cognisant of your own mortality.
But my job isn’t to make this all about me.
It’s to be his wingman as he meets these new vampires, make sure they aren’t going to be dicks to him, that he’s safe and happy.
So I take a deep breath and paste a smile across my face.
“Clara asked me if I was into girls or boys,” Matt says, keeping his voice low, with that same hideously artificial nonchalance as before.
He must realise I see straight though him.
“And so I said boys, obviously. But that I don’t date.
And then she went kind of quiet…” he trails off for a moment.
“And then she asked me if I knew Willoughby.”
I snap to attention at the name.
“Yeah,” he continues, “so apparently that’s his thing. Stalking baby vampires…” He looks up at me and I can see the anger and the hurt painted across his face. But then he smiles. “It’s almost like a rite of passage.”
“And that makes you feel better?”
“It makes me feel less alone. And less like it was my fault, you know?”
“It wasn’t your fault,” I tell him gently.
“I know. But I thought maybe I was too naive, too trusting. That if I’d been more… I don’t know what the right word is… but maybe he wouldn’t have sought me out.”
“But you can’t push everyone away forever.”
“I know. So maybe I should… you know. See what’s out there.”
“Like go on some dates?” I ask him, leaning forward in my seat. I’ve been waiting for years for him to come out of his shell.
“Maybe.” The word is little more than a whisper, as if he doesn’t want to tempt fate.
“Well then, I’d best be getting ready.”
I want to hug him and tell him that this is brilliant news and I’m so excited for him. And proud of him. But I know that would only make him uncomfortable. So instead I pat him on the shoulder as I head to get changed. For the briefest second he covers my hand with his own.
Half an hour later, pyjamas abandoned in favour of a pair of dark blue jeans and a black shirt – the only thing I had ironed, I’m happy to get dragged out in the middle of the night but I draw the line at having to iron – we arrive at The Raven’s Quill.
“Good evening, sir,” the doorman says.
“We should be on the list. Matt Simpson and Brody Jackson,” Matt tells him.
“Of course, sir,” he replies as he opens the heavy wooden door to invite Matt in. This isn’t our usual kind of place. This is the kind of place that proper old school vampires go to.
The first thing I notice is how dark it is, but eventually my eyes adjust to the gloom.
The Raven’s Quill is seriously swanky: the walls are a matte charcoal grey and the floor a polished mahogany.
All the upholstery is a black brocade, with deep maroon velvet curtains draping between booths to create a sense of privacy.
There are no lights, just thousands of guttering candles on every available surface, casting flickering shadows across the faces of the vampires drinking an array of exquisite looking cocktails.
I spot Ari first, it’s hard not to notice her, and tap Matt on the shoulder to point him in the right direction. He stops abruptly and I walk into him in the gloom. No vampire super-sight for this human.
“Who’s that?” He turns slightly and hisses in my ear.
“Who?”
“The guy with Clara and Ari?”
There was a portrait of the three of them in Ari’s flat.
Painted in the twenties, or at least made to look like it was, the three of them were dressed to impress, all sequins and furs and long cigarette holders.
“Ivan,” I tell Matt. “Ari called their group ‘the terrible three’. They’ve been friends for ever. ”
“Oh.”
“Is something wrong?” I ask.
“No. It’s just…”
“He’s hot?” Matt has never shied away from pointing out guys that he fancied so I know the kind of man he finds attractive. And he definitely has a penchant for dudes with fabulous manicures and I can see Ivan’s blood red nails from here.
Matt just nods.
“Well, let’s go and get you introduced, shall we?” At least this Ivan has been vetted by Ari and Clara, they wouldn’t have been friends with him for this long if he was a total nightmare.
Ari is already tipsy and she throws her arms around me as we get to the table.
“Uh, hi,” I manage to utter into her hair. But then she jumps back as if I burned her.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” she says quickly, putting her hands up in front of her in a defensive motion. “No lawsuit here.”
I glance towards Clara, hoping she might add some context.
“Apparently, asking your employees to a club is workplace harassment,” Clara says in a deadpan tone. She shrugs.
“Oh.” I feel like I’ve walked in on the tail end of a private joke and decide to just shrug it off.
“You must be Matt,” Ivan says as he stands and reaches out a taloned hand to Matt.
“Uh… hi,” Matt stammers. I stamp on his foot, a signal for him to act at least vaguely normal.
“Let’s get you a drink and get acquainted, shall we?” If Matt could blush, he’d be bright beetroot. But he allows Ivan to guide him towards the bar. I have to admit that they make kind of a cute couple.
“Well, I doubt we’ll be seeing much of those two this evening,” Clara remarks.
“And it’s highly unlikely Ivan will remember to get us drinks while he’s at the bar.
” She huffs slightly and stands up. “I’ll go and sort us out.
Shall we be naughty and have some kind of swishy martini? ” She directs the question to Ari.
“It’s a work night,” Ari reminds her.
“I’ll take that as a yes then,” Clara replies and winks at her before directing a beaming smile towards me. “Back in a jiffy.” Jiffy is such a grandma thing to say and it’s so anachronistic to come from the lips of a thirty year old in a leather miniskirt.
Ari pats the seat next to her and I plonk myself down on the plush leather sofa. “This place is kind of swish,” I say then groan inside at how much of a dumbass I must sound. But I’ve always been so awful at small talk.
“Yeah. It’s Clara’s favourite. We’ve been coming here since the twenties.”
“Cool.” Cool? I’m such a dweeb. “So it’s mainly a vampire place?” I ask.
Ari looks around and I follow the direction of her gaze.
It is so obviously a vampire place and I feel my cheeks flare.
Why am I being such an imbecile this evening?
It certainly has nothing at all to do with the scarlet top Ari is wearing.
Or the way her legs look in a pair of skin tight black jeans.
She leans in to whisper something in my ear and I feel my pulse quicken as the scent of her perfume blankets the air between us. “My friends don’t know you’re a normie.”
“Oh.” I don’t really know what to say. Is she embarrassed by me? Or are her friends anti-human? No, that doesn’t seem to fit, she’s not like that and I don’t think she’d be friends with vampires who were.
“It’s complicated. I…” she starts, but she trails off. “I just didn’t tell them and now it feels kind of weird.”
But that isn’t the reason, I can sense she’s lying to me. I just don’t understand why.
“Just.. I’m not going to ask you to tell fibs or anything. But…” She turns her face away from me.
“I won’t say anything. I guess they’ve just assumed I’m vampire?”
She nods.
“Well,” I turn towards the bar area. Clara is chatting to a stunningly gorgeous and incredibly tall woman in a long black lace gown that should look bizarre but seems almost fitting given the decor of the place.
Matt and Ivan are a few metres away from Clara, deep in conversation.
Ivan’s hand is resting gently on Matt’s arm.
“I think our friends have other things than my lack of fangs on their minds.” I make it sound like a joke, a platform from which we can jump to some safer ground.