You Suck (5 page)

“I feel like I’m doing Domino’s delivery blow jobs,” Blue told her roommate. “Satisfaction in twenty minutes or less or your money back. And the agency is taking most of the money. I’ll never get out of this business at this rate.”

“You need a gimmick,” said her roommate, a cocktail waitress at the Venetian. “Like those Blue Men guys in the show. I swear they’d just be a bunch of frat boys beating on garbage cans if they weren’t painted blue.”

And so it began. The fallen Cheddar princess of Fond du Lac found some semipermanent skin dye, opened credit-card deposit accounts, had some pictures taken, placed ads in all the free sleaze rags around the city, and Blue was born. It wasn’t as if she wouldn’t have been able to make a living without the gimmick—most guys will shag a snake if you hold it steady for them. But it turned out they would pay a lot for the exotica of a blue woman.

She worked as much as she could handle, and her savings had climbed to the point where she could actually see the possibility of an exit. But about that same time, she realized that by going blue, she had opted out of the pipe dream of every hooker, stripper, and telemarketer: the rich guy who would take her away from it all. The whale who would drop a fortune on her to become his personal pet. There would be no big score for the blue chick, or so she thought, until the Animals called her in for a combination strip show and fuckfest. Where they got the money didn’t matter. What mattered was that they had a lot of it, and it appeared that they would keep giving it to her until it was
all gone. She had nearly half a million dollars in her makeup case, and Blue—the
character
Blue—could put up with a lot of attention from the Animals while
she
hid in the back of her mind and formulated an investment strategy. The tall, skinny one, Drew, had opened the hotel-room door and said, “Hi. We discussed it and agreed that when we were kids, we all really wanted to bone a Smurf.”

“I get that a lot,” said Blue.

W
e just wanted to bone a Smurf,” Lash said.

“Understandably,” said Tommy.

“She’s really nice,” Lash said.

“Important quality in a ho,” said Tommy.

“But now we can’t seem to quit.”

“So you want me to do what—hold an intervention?”

“No, you’re our leader. We look to you for other things. So we want you to give us money so we can keep partying, and pay our rents and stuff.”

“And when all of
my
money is gone, then I can intervene.”

“Sure, if you feel you have to,” said Lash. “How’s your credit?”

“Lash, are you high?”

“Of course.”

“Right. Of course. What was I thinking?” Tommy was relaxing now about Lash noticing that he was a vampire. Clearly the former stewards of Safeway night stock, in addi
tion to being wasted, had gone collectively out of their minds. “Lash, I don’t almost have an MBA like you, but isn’t there sort of some business principle that you’re violating? I mean, isn’t there a class about not spending your rent money on hookers or something?”

“Step off, Flood,” Lash said. “You hooked up with a vampire.”

“She was cute,” Tommy said.

“An important quality in a vampire,” Lash said, looking over the top of his shades.

“She had sex with me,” Tommy countered. He wanted to say that she was nice, but Lash had already used “nice” for his blue hooker.

“I think I’ve made my point,” Lash said. “Give me your money.”

“You haven’t made your point. You completely haven’t made your point.” Tommy reared back as if to punch Lash in the chest, as the Animals did to one another all the time, but remembered that now he might crush some of the Animals’ ribs. Instead, he said, “Don’t make me cave in your skinny chest, bee-yotch.”

“Your redheaded vampire kung fu is no match for the fearsome blue booty kung fu.” Lash made a howling chicken noise and waved his hands around as he fell back into a fighting stance, then went right back onto his ass on the steps. He laughed until he choked, then coughed and said, “Seriously, dude, if you don’t give us money, we’re going to be totally broke in about six hours. I did the math.”

“You could go back to work,” Tommy said. “Clint called here last night. They’re buried at the store. They need night stockers.”

“No?” Lash said, pulling down his sunglasses.

“Yes,” Tommy said.

“Then we’re not fired?”

“Evidently not,” Tommy said.

“That’s it. We could go back to work. That’s what we’ll tell her. We have to go back to work.”

“Why didn’t you just tell her to go away before she did you all the way here from Vegas.”

“We didn’t want to be rude.”

“Oh, right. Well then, off you go.”

Lash pushed to his feet and steadied himself on the banister long enough to look Tommy in the eye. “You okay? You look pale.”

“I’m heartbroken and shit,” Tommy said. He hated it, but Lash’s bloodshot eyes peering over the sunglasses had actually given him a twinge of hunger.

“Right.” Lash went through the security door.

Tommy watched him as he paused at the rear door of the limo and turned back.

“You need some blue nooky to cheer you up?” Lash asked. “Our treat.”

“No, I’m good,” Tommy said.

“All for one, and whatnot,” Lash said.

“Appreciate it.” Tommy shrugged. “Heartbroken.”

“Okay.” Lash threw open the limo’s door and two of the
Animals, Drew and Troy Lee, rolled out onto the pavement, followed by a great storm cloud of pot smoke.

“Fuck, dude. Did you know there was a door there?” said Drew, the scruffy thin one.

“Look,” said Troy Lee, the Asian guy who actually did know kung fu. “Hey, look, it’s fearless leader.”

“Go to work,” Tommy said. “It’s only seven. You guys can get sobered up and be completely ready for your shift at eleven.”
Not a chance,
Tommy thought.

“Yeah, we can do it,” Lash said, peeking into the limo. “Hey, Barry, climb off, motherfucker, I’m up next, then it’s Jeff ’s turn. I put it on the board. Blue, don’t let him do that to your ear, baby, you won’t hear for a month.”

Tommy closed the security door and sat down hard on the steps, hiding his face in his hands to try to make it all go away. The Animals had been his friends, his crew. They had taken him in when he was alone in the city, made him their leader, and if he got the tone of Clint’s second message right, in about four hours, when they got to the store, they were going to turn on him.

W
hile Jody showered, Tommy made a list.

Feed

Laundry

New Apartment

Toothpaste

Sweet Monkey Love

Windex

Dispose of Vampire

Minion

“What do we need an onion for?” Jody asked. She was having a little trouble getting her vision to focus.

“Minion, minion,” Tommy said.

“Mint-flavored onion? Why do we need that?”

“A minion! Someone who can move around during the day who can help us out. Like I was for you.”

“Oh, my bitch.”

Tommy dropped his list. “Nuh-uh.”

Jody picked it up and walked over to the kitchen counter where the coffee machine stood. “I would sell my soul for a big cup of joe.”

“I was not your bitch,” Tommy said.

“Right, right, right. What ever. So how long do we have to do this list?”

“I checked the almanac. Sunrise is at six fifty-three, so we have about twelve hours. It’s almost the solstice, so we get a lot of darkness.”

“Solstice? Oh my God, it’s almost Christmas.”

“So?”

“Hello? Shopping?”

“Hello? We have an excuse. We’re dead.”

“My mother doesn’t know that. I have to find something for her that she’ll disapprove of. And your family—”

“Oh my God! Christmas. I was supposed to go home to Indiana for Christmas. We need to redo the list.”

“You do it. I’m going to dry my hair,” Jody said.

The new list read:

“I think you should take monkey love off of the list,” Jody said. “What if we lose the list and someone finds it?”

“Well I think ‘dispose of Creepy Old Vampire’ would be a little more embarrassing, don’t you?”

“You’re right, cut monkey love and change ‘vampire’ to ‘Elijah.’” Jody tapped the list with a pen. “And take off Windex and put in ‘buy coffee.’”

“We can’t drink coffee.”

“We can smell it. Tommy, I desperately need coffee. It’s like the blood hunger, only, you know, more civilized.”

“Speaking of blood hunger—”

“Yeah, you’d better move that up the list.”

“And add a bottle of whiskey. You’re going to have to buy it.”

“Sorry, writer boy, but we’re doing this stupid list together.”

“I’m not old enough to buy liquor.”

Jody stepped away from him and shuddered. “That’s right. Isn’t it?”

“Yep,” Tommy said, nodding—trying to look wide-eyed and innocent.

“Well, okay then. I should have checked IDs before picking my bitch.”

“Hey!”

“Kidding. What are you going to do with a bottle of whiskey anyway?”

“Check something else off the list,” Tommy said. “I have an idea. Get your purse.”

“What did the Animals want, anyway?”

“Twenty grand.”

“I hope you told them to fuck themselves.”

“They did that already.”

“Did they suspect, you know, about what you are now?”

“Not yet. Lash said I looked a little pale. I sent them to the store. If Clint knows, well—”

“Oh, good move. Maybe we should just take out an ad. ‘Young vampire couple seeks angry village people to hunt them down and kill them.’”

“Ha. Village people. Funny. Put self-tanning lotion on the list. I think the pale thing is giving me away.”

A
t seven in the evening, three days before Christmas, Union Square was awash in shoppers. There was a Santa’s Village set up in the raised square, with a line of children and parents that wound five hundred deep through a labyrinth of red velvet cattle gates. Around the square, the street
performers, who would normally have knocked off around five, lined the granite steps up to the square. A juggler here, a sleight-of-hand guy there, a half-dozen “robots”—people painted silver and gold who would move in machine-jerk rhythm for the drop of a coin or a bill—and even a couple of human statues. Jody’s favorite was a gold guy in a business suit, who stood motionless for hours on end, as if he’d been frozen in midstep on the way to work. There was a small hole in his briefcase into which people stuffed bills and dropped coins after photographing him or trying to make him flinch.

“This guy used to freak me out,” Tommy whispered. “But now I can see him breathing and the aura thing.”

“I watched him for a whole lunch hour one time and he never moved,” Jody said. “In the summer, you know he has to be suffering in that painted suit.” Suddenly she shuddered at the thought of Elijah, the old vampire, still encased in bronze back at the loft. Yes, he had killed her, technically, but in a way he’d just opened a door for her, a door that, no matter how bizarre, was immediate, vital, and passionate. And yes, he’d done it for his amusement, he’d said, but also because he was lonely.

She wound her arm into Tommy’s and kissed him on the cheek.

“What was that for?”

“Because you’re here,” she said. “What’s first on the list?”

“Christmas presents.”

“Skip down.”

“Sweet monkey love.”

“Yeah, we’ll do it in the Santa’s Workshop window at Macy’s.”

“Really?”

“No, not really.”

“Okay, then we need liquor.”

Jody snatched the list out of his hand so quickly that most people wouldn’t have even seen her move. “You are no longer in charge of the list. We’re getting me a new leather jacket.”

I
AM HOMELESS AND SOMEONE SHAVED MY HUGE CAT
. William had changed his sign. Chet the huge cat was still wearing Jody’s sweater. He eyed the two vampires suspiciously as they approached.

Tommy held the bottle of Johnny Walker out to William. “Merry Christmas.”

William took the liquor and squirreled it away in his coat. “Most people just give money,” he said.

“We’re cutting out the middleman,” Jody said. “How are you feeling today?”

“Great, why? Really good, you know, considering that I’m homeless and you guys shaved my cat.”

“You were pretty hammered last night.”

“Yeah, but I feel great today.”

“That’s how it used to affect me,” Tommy said. “Remember. Kind of energizing.”

Jody waved Tommy away. “You didn’t get light-headed or anything?” Jody asked.

“I was a little hungover when I woke up, but I was fine after a couple of cups of coffee.”

“Fuck!” Jody spat. Then she held her head.

“Calm,” Tommy said, patting her shoulder. “Dr. Flood will make it all better. Maybe.”

Jody growled, just loud enough for Tommy to hear.

“Ya know,” said William, when there was a break in the pedestrian traffic and he didn’t have to concentrate on looking pathetic, “I’m flush for cash, but since you’re in the Christmas spirit, I’d still go for a look at Red’s hooters.”

“Bite me, dirtbag,” Jody said as she rolled up on William.

“Honey.” Tommy caught the back of her newly purchased red leather jacket, just in case. They’d never know if his idea was going to work if Jody snapped the bum’s neck.

“I will not be sexually harassed by the entrée.”

“Something you ate isn’t agreeing with you?” Tommy grinned at her when she looked back at him, but the fire went out of her eyes.

“You can just cross sweet monkey love right off your list,” Jody said.

“Jeez, what a bitch,” said William. “Her time of the month?”

Tommy quickly wrapped his arms around Jody, lifted her off her feet, and carried her a few steps around the corner, even as she squirmed.

“Let me go, I’m not going to hurt him.”

“Good.”

“Much.”

“That’s what I thought,” Tommy said, still holding her tight. “Why don’t you head over to the Walgreens and I’ll finish up with the huge cat guy?”

A family of Christmas shoppers smiled as they passed them, thinking they were young lovers indulging in a public display of affection. The father whispered “Get a room” under his breath to his wife, which a normal person wouldn’t have heard.

“Count your lucky stars, buddy, we almost did it in the Santa’s Workshop window. Hot, sweaty elf sex—in front of the kids. The kids would have liked that, huh?”

The father hurried his family on down the street.

“Nice,” Jody said. “Way to stay under the radar.”

“Well, you know, I like to stay sharp,” Tommy said. Because he was nineteen and had only started having sex regularly since he met Jody, he still thought he had some sort of secret knowledge that was unavailable to other people.
How can they possibly be thinking about anything else?
he thought in the private part of his mind.

“I’ll bet it smells like peppermint,” Tommy said.

“What?”

“Elf sex.”

“Would you please put me down.”

“Okay, but don’t hurt the huge cat guy.”

“I’m fine. I’ll meet you at the drugstore in five minutes. This had better work.”

“Five minutes,” Tommy said. “Cinnamon. Maybe it smells like cinnamon.”

T
he pale couple stalked the aisles of the Walgreens, having a great time dismissing the crass accoutrements of bourgeois American life, and generally scoffing at all the conventions of traditional culture. They were elite, after all. Special. Chosen—if you will—if only by the nature of their heightened sensitivities and superior sensibilities. They both claimed the ability to look past the facade put on by most people, and see the very depths of the human soul. Strange, then, that they didn’t see it coming when the skinny guy in a flannel shirt popped around the corner in front of them.

“Let’s ask these guys,” Flannel said. “They look like heroin addicts.”

Jared White Wolf and Abby Normal backpedaled from the eyeliner display where they’d been looking for something hypoallergenic. Abby’s eyes had been watering all night, causing her makeup to run and giving her more of a sad-clown-of-life look than she was going for.

Jared hid behind Abby, just a little, which was awk-ward, since he was nearly a foot taller than she. The guy in flannel was joined by a beautiful, pale redhead, carrying an armload of toiletries.
What amazing hair,
Abby thought, looking at the long red tresses.
I’d give anything for hair like that.

“Tommy, leave these poor people alone,” said the redhead.

“No, wait.” Flannel turned to Abby and smiled. “Do you guys know where they keep the syringes?”

Abby looked at Jared, who looked at the guy in flannel. “Well, you can’t just buy them,” Jared said. He was fiddling with the leather straps on his bondage pants, looking coy. Abby slapped his hand.

“You need a prescription to buy syringes,” Abby said.

“Do you really think I look like a heroin addict?” Jared threw his bangs out of his face dramatically. His head was shaved except for his bangs, which reached to his chin, specifically so he could throw them out of his face dramatically. “I was, like, thinking that maybe I should bulk up. You know, eat and stuff, but—”

“Well, thanks,” said Flannel Shirt. The redhead moved off down the aisle. “I was going to try some heroin, but if you can’t buy needles, well, there you go. See you guys. Nice shirt, by the way.”

Abby looked down at her T-shirt, black, of course, with the image of a poet taken from a nineteenth-century etching. “Like you even know who it is.”

“‘She walks in beauty, like the night,’” quoted the flannel-shirt guy. He winked at her, then grinned. “Byron’s a hero of mine. See ya.”

He turned and started to walk away. Abby reached out and snagged his sleeve. “Hey, there are needle exchange programs all over town. They’re listed in the
Bay Guardian
.”

“Thanks,” said flannel. He turned and Abby grabbed him again.

“We’re going to be at the Glas Kat. There’s a Goth club to night. Five-hundred block of Fourth Street. I know a dealer there. You know, for your heroin.”

The flannel-shirt guy nodded, and looked at Byron’s picture on her shirt again, then at her face.
Fucksocks. He’s so looking at my streaking eye makeup
.

“Thanks, milady,” said Flannel Shirt. And he was gone, off over the dark moors of the tampon aisle.

“What was that about?” whined Jared. “He’s so, so
Happy Days
.” Jared White Wolf spent a lot of time watching
Nick at Nite
when he wasn’t brooding or fussing with his appearance.

Abby walked into the flap of Jared’s black duster and pounded his slight chest with her palms. “Didn’t you see. Didn’t you see?”

“What, you acting like a complete ho?”

“He had fangs,” Abby said.

“Well, so do I,” Jared said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a pair of perfect, dentistry-quality vampire fangs. “Duh, everybody does.”

“Yeah, but his grew! I saw them. Let’s go,” Abby said, pulling Jared White Wolf by his great bat-wing lapels. “I have to change into something hot before we go to the club.”

“Wait, I want to get some Halls. My throat is raw from all the cloves we smoked last night.”

“Hurry.” The buckles of Abby’s black platform boots
jangled as she dragged her friend past the lipsticks and hair products before he could get interested.

“Okay,” said Jared, “but if I don’t meet a cute guy tonight, you have to stay up all night and hold me while I cry.”

Y
ou should try black lipstick sometime,” Tommy said to Jody as they approached their building, their arms loaded with packages. He was still thinking about the kids at the drugstore. It was the first time since tenth grade that he’d used his knowledge of Romantic poetry. For a while he’d tried molding himself into the tragic Romantic hero, brooding and staring clench-jawed off into space as he composed dark verse in his head. But it turned out that trying to appear tragic in Incontinence, Indiana, was redundant, and his mother kept shouting at him and making him forget his rhymes. “Tommy, if you keep grinding your teeth like that, they’ll wear away and you’ll have to have dentures like Aunt Ester.” Tommy only wished his beard was as heavy as Aunt Ester’s—then he could stare out over the moors while he stroked it pensively.