The Vampire and the Man-Eater (16 page)

"Ages ago. I don't call them and they don't call me."

"I bet you haven't even seen them since last Christmas."

"Then you would have won the bet."

"Brock, it's October. You're working on a year."

"I know." Brock thought he heard something, pausing to listen. No one was there.

"And you wonder why you feel detached from the family?"

"It's half my fault. I'm not denying it. But what do we have to talk about? If I even mention anything about my 'alternate 156

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lifestyle' Dad leaves the room and Mom rolls her eyes. I'm sick of talking about work because I do it all week. That leaves ...
nothing
, Vanessa," he laughed sadly.

"Well, even the weather and politics would be better than nothing. Don't you just want to call and say hi, how are you?"

"Yes. I do. I think of calling them all the time. But I get cold feet when I imagine Dad is going to start asking me when this gay phase will pass and when I'm going to get married. And Mom? She's worse. She talks about her friend's daughters with the intention of setting me up on a blind date."

"You're exaggerating, Brock."

"Maybe a little. But not too much, believe me. That's why I stopped calling."

"Are you seeing anyone?"

At the question, Brock stared into space, feeling his heart ache. "Yes."

"And? Is it serious?"

"Yes."

"Wow. Does that mean your playboy days are finally behind you? At the old age of thirty?"

"I hope so."

"Tell me about him. What's he like?"

That brought a smile to Brock's lips. "He's the best and worst of everything."

"That doesn't sound very promising. What's he do?"

"He's independently wealthy."

"Is he an older man, Brock?"

"I'm not sure." Brock felt his lips curl at the irony.

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"What the heck does that mean? Don't you even know how old he is?"

"He looks mid-twenties."

A pause followed, then Vanessa asked, "You have a serious relationship with a man and you don't even know his age?"

"No. He's very vague about anything intimate about himself."

"Where did you meet him?"

"The club I go to on the weekends."

"How long have you been dating?"

"Two weeks."

"What?" she laughed. "Come on, Brock. It's infatuation. I have a feeling in another week, and another visit to the club, you'll find your next dream man."

Brock changed hands with the phone, wiping his sweaty palm off on his naked thigh. "No. I don't think so. Not this time."

"What makes him different from all the other men you've dated?"

"I'm absolutely head over heels, completely ga-ga ...

totally crazy about him. I've never felt like that with anyone else."

"How does he feel?"

"Confused."

She laughed. "Isn't love fun, Brock?"

"How did you know it was right with Paul?"

"I don't know. I suppose you just do. You get married and you hope for the best."

"Do you believe in the notion that love conquers all?"

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"I suppose what's important is do you believe it?"

"I want to. I want to so badly I ache, Vanessa."

"Can we meet him?"

"No. I doubt it."

"Why? Is he shy?"

"In some ways. He's out of town at the moment anyway."

"You can always bring him by for dinner. Now you have me curious as to who this man is. I can't imagine anyone enticing you to settle down."

Brock sank down into the pillows. "Vanessa, he's unbelievable."

"Cute?"

"To die for. Literally!" He laughed at the irony.

"That good?"

"Looks, charm, personality, and the body on him..."

"Okay, I get the picture."

"Oh, God, Vanessa. Help me."

"Help you? Help you how?"

"Tell me good things about love. About how even people with the biggest obstacles to cross can survive and live happily ever after."

"What's the obstacle?"

"I can't say."

"Racial? Religious? What?"

"Uh ... sort of religious? But not really?"

"Does he want you to convert?"

"Christ, I hope to hell not." Brock shivered in fear. "I'd rather convert him, but I don't think that's humanly possible."

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"Convert him to what? We don't practice anything. You didn't find religion, did you?"

"No. Nothing like that."

"Okay, since you called for some big sister sage advice, I'll try my best. Yes. Love can conquer all. If you and this guy, what's his name?"

"Daniel."

"Daniel. If you and Daniel really love one another, then you will find a way."

Closing his eyes to pray that that was the truth, Brock felt his skin prickle with goose bumps. "Say it again."

"Brock? You really want me to repeat it?"

"Yes. Slowly." He pressed the phone to his ear tightly.

"If you and Daniel really love each other, then you will find a way to make it work. Okay?"

"Thank you, Vanessa. I just wanted someone to say that to me. Someone I care about."

"I love you, you silly dork."

"And I love you too, Vanessa."

"Don't wait so long between calls, Brock."

"I won't. Promise. Thanks again, sis."

"Goodnight, Brock."

He disconnected the phone and chanted, "If we really love one another we can make it work."

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It'd been three days and Brock still hadn't seen or heard from Daniel.

Saturday morning, he'd showered, then stood in front of the sink to shave, a towel wrapped around his hips. The cut on his throat was healing. Only two small marks remained.

Spreading shaving cream on his jaw, Brock looked at the printout he had made from his computer and taped on the mirror. "LOVE CONQUERS ALL" had been written in bold text and displayed everywhere in his penthouse.

Once, years ago, he had attended a seminar about succeeding in business. The motivational speaker had suggested putting affirmative quotes around the house, reinforcing the ideas. Brock needed this idea to work. But he couldn't do it solo. One thing was desperately missing. Daniel Wolf. Had Daniel abandoned him? Was the last meeting they had the end? Perhaps it was some vampire credo to either kill or disappear once they had revealed themselves. Would Daniel kill him? Or was this just the vanishing act. Gone forever.

Brock doubted that Daniel could actually murder him. Then again, in the vampire books and movies, the bloodsuckers did tend to kill their victims. But Daniel had never brought him near death. He had drained him, yes, but not to the point where he needed a transfusion or hospitalization. No, on the contrary, his vampire was cleaning up his blood and placing band-aids on his wound!

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Dragging the razor over his jaw, Brock couldn't stop his train of thought from running wild down its track. Everything from why Daniel never needed to shave, because his beard didn't grow, to his not eating, because he only drank blood, to his constant reference to "magic", which was why Brock kept coming like a fountain whenever he climaxed. And of course, no rubber, no lube, no disease. It made perfect sense.

Brock shook his head in disbelief that he could have been so naïve. Rinsing the razor in the basin, he shaved his top lip, moving next to his chin. Brock tried to recall every detail. Did Daniel say he was from England? A choir boy in King's College Chapel?
Yes. He did. That cross, Faith's cross
. Brock felt like hitting the heel of his palm against his forehead for being so stupid. It was certainly consistent with everything he remembered about vampire lore. But not everything was. He never read anything about making love to one. To actually sticking his dick inside one. Or the fact that a vampire could make him climax like mad.
Or
that the one he had cared for him enough not to harm him, to bandage his cut. Insanity.

Rinsing his face, drying it with a towel, Brock stared into his own eyes. "You said my blue eyes were like summertime.

You poor thing. You can't see the sun, the green grass, the flowers..." He set the towel down and found his brush. "My poor Danny. So much of the world is a closed door to you." It completely devastated Brock, so much so, that tears filled his eyes as he brushed his hair. "Oh, God..." He threw the brush down on the sink and covered his face. In agony he wailed,

"Daniel!" screaming at the ceiling, "Daniel! Come back to me!"

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His emotions welling up, Brock stumbled out of the bathroom, falling down on the bed, miserable, crying, and desperate to get his lover back.

* * * *

"Hey."

Blinking out of his stupor, Brock found Eli and Gary standing in front of him.

"Man, you looked like you were a million miles away. Still haven't heard from Daniel?"

"No." Brock pushed the glass door back, showing his membership card to the woman at the desk. When he looked back, Eli was registering Gary as his guest. Brock waited, trying to smile at Gary who was staring at him.

Once they were on their way to the locker room, Brock heard Gary's soft voice, "You okay, Brock?"

"Yes. Fine. So? How are you guys doing?"

"Good." Eli set his gym bag on the bench and opened a locker. "I'm really glad you got us together, Brock."

"I'm happy it's worked out for you." Brock unbuttoned his shirt. "I imagine it's not a likely place to find a relationship.

It's more of a sex palace."

"No kidding." Gary snorted, sitting on the bench to remove his shoes and socks.

Brock thought the fact that Eli and Gary were in a relationship odd. He remembered Gary reluctant at first to give Eli a blowjob, and seemed to do it only with cash and the 163

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reassurance that Brock would be involved in the little orgy.

Brock was dying to ask Gary what happened, but wasn't that a stupid question? He had gotten to know Eli and realized what an amazing guy he was. Any man would be very lucky to have Eli as a friend, let alone a boyfriend.

Isn't that what had happened between he and Daniel? Yes.

It was. For once in his life Brock got to know someone.
And?

Look what happened. Brokenhearted. Surprise, surprise.

Slipping off his beige cotton chinos, Brock folded them and put them in his locker, making sure his black Speedos were covering his nuts. When he looked up, Gary was ogling. Angry at the betrayal to Eli, Brock turned his back to Gary after getting his towel and goggles. Once he had shoved everything else he didn't need into the long slender locker, Brock slammed it shut. He stuck his combination lock through it, spun it, and walked away from them.

Preoccupied, missing Daniel, jealous that Eli had found a human, even though this human may cheat on him, Brock couldn't stay trapped in his home and brood. He needed to keep busy.

"Ready?" Eli met him at the entrance to the shower.

"Yes." Holding his towel above the spigot, Brock rinsed under the warm shower spray and headed out to the lap pool.

It was loud with echoing voices and smelled of very strong chlorine. They claimed three lounge chairs, leaving their towels on them, and stood at the edge of the pool. Brock put his goggles on, immediately jumping in and trying to clear his mind.

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Even as he swam he fought with his emotions, struggled not to upset himself, and tried to feel confident that Daniel would miss him and come back. He had to.

* * * *

"I can't swim like you two can."

"You'll get better."

"I managed around twenty minutes. My lungs just aren't used to it."

"Eli is the pro. The man should compete."

"He's too old. They won't let him compete nationally."

Brock sat on the foot of his lounge. "He's only thirty-three, Gary."

"Do you know the average age of Olympic swimmers?"

"No. Who cares?"

"Twenty-two."

"There are some men who compete into their thirties.

Don't make an issue of it."

"I'm not. I'm just making conversation."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-three."

Brock laughed sadly. "He's got ten years on you and you can't even do half what he does."

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"All right, forget it. It was you who said he should compete."

"I was only making conversation," Brock mimicked.

"Christ, you're handsome."

Brock glared at Gary. "Are you messing around on Eli?"

"We're not exclusive."

"Is he aware of that?"

Gary shrugged. "I loved it when you fucked me. If your boyfriend doesn't come back, want to screw again?"

"No. I don't. So just shut up, Gary." Brock stood, walking to the edge of the pool to watch his best friend swim laps.

The internal dialogue in his head was so filled with bitterness, Brock was about to kill someone.
There's sweet Eli, wanting a
relationship with an immature moron who is most likely lying
to him and using him. And there's me, wanting to have a
relationship with someone who is most likely using me and
lying to me. And who said life isn't filled with irony?