of my poor drunken judgment on a blind (and, as the name mix-up thing illustrated, hearing-impaired) group date, which started the whole ball rolling toward Vampiresburg in the first place. So, despite all evidence to the contrary, without having bagged myself a human feed I hadn’t really become a vampire.
But I have now.
And as hard as I fought it in the beginning, in some remarkable yet unintended way it ended up putting me at peace with things… though being on the other side of it, I think I would have been fine remaining in turmoil.
Good luck to me getting that genie back in the bottle.
The whole nasty tangle of complications started with my first Forever 81 rehearsal. I was so completely stoked for that, to be part of a band that wanted me as a player, not just a player who happened to be me. Per Lucas’ instructions, I met the guys at Damage, the bar where they first saw me play in the sex-laden sexagenarian plane crash that was my final gig with Vomiting Nonsense. They were all there, minus the Duran-wear, and rolling three drinks deep when I arrived. Lucas called out when he saw me at the door, “Joe… come toast yourself!” In my years with VN, I had never had a single occasion that called for Drinking as Celebration… the occasions always led to Drinking as Coping Mechanism for dealing with Lazer’s shit. So this was different. Good different. I took a glass of whatever was on the bar, which appeared to be expensive, by the design of the bottle. And by the fact that it had holographic specks floating in it. There may have even been a diamond at the bottom of my glass. “To Joe: Our missing piece – found at last,” he called out, to only me, Kyle and Jeremy, since there was no one else in the bar. Odd for evening hours, but with the money it sounded like these boys were throwing out for their record, I could easily see them closing down the bar so we’d have the whole space to ourselves to work out the new tunes they were coming up with. So, we drank. I tasted vanilla, honey and unapologetic privilege. “We’re practicing here, then? I’ll get my rig set up… ”
“Not here,” Kyle said. “Somewhere else. This is the pre-party.”
A pre-party for a rehearsal? What do they do before an actual show?
Lucas drained his glass. “Rehearsal space is a little more remote. We like to keep our secrets closely guarded in Forever 81.” Kyle agreed, then poured himself another shot. Jeremy just drank without saying much, which made sense seeing as how he’s the drummer.
Those guys are like monks sometimes.
“Secrets, huh?” Whatever was in my glass was potent. I was feeling the love after only two sips.
“Yep. We do secret shows, too. Stirs up the excitement for our fans.”
“Nice,” I agreed. “My old band had secret shows, too. Even when we told everyone about them, they still seemed to be… secret.”
Kyle and Lucas cracked up, which totally won me over. I love it when people enjoy my bashing on stuff I hate. Then Jeremy locked eyes with Lucas and broke his silence. “Yeah… secret rehearsals, secret gigs. Hidden agendas.”
Uh oh.
Lucas glared. “Don’t listen to that sulky guy over there.” It was the first time I’d heard him sound even remotely unfriendly. “He’s mad because he promised your spot to his cousin… which he should never have done without consulting the rest of the band. Right, Jeremy?” Jeremy’s answer was an angry snort.
“Ah. Band politics. I know all about those. That’s what ended my stint in my last band.” Lucas kept his gaze locked on Jeremy, and I realized that they really didn’t give a hang about my techno-sleaze rock and roll war stories. I drank more, feeling a familiar warm buzz that made me… droopy, is the only word I could think of to describe it. “So when are… we heading out… then?” Those holographic flecks were really taking the piss out of me.
Lucas was friendly again. “Just a few more minutes to celebrate. Jeremy will get your stuff loaded up.”
“I brought… my van… I can drive us.” Which clearly I couldn’t, in the state I was rapidly entering. “What arrrrre… we driiinking… anyway?” I don’t know if that’s how you spell what I was saying, but that’s what it sounded like in my head.
Lucas walked behind the bar, blurring through my line of sight. “It’s a