Rent a Vampire by Redbookbluebook
A/N This was the product of boredom and a severe desire to write fanfiction. For all of you Down We Fallers who are shaking a fist at me, sorry, but it takes me longer than an hour to write those chapters.
Neither RENT nor Twilight belongs to me...as per usual.
Roger heard the knock at the door and went to answer it, scattering the thoughts of his ex-girlfriend. That was a place he should never go unless he wanted to drink himself to sleep again.
"What'd you forget?" He asked, assuming it would be Mark.
"Got a light?" A pretty girl greeted him, holding a white candlestick that contrasted nicely with her dark hands.
"I know you, you're, you're shivering," He told her, distracted by the shaking of her frame. It made her look so fragile.
"It's nothing, they turned off my heat, and I'm just a little weak on my feet. Would you light my candle? …What are you staring at?"
"Nothing." Roger supplied quickly, thinking if he voiced the similarities between her and well, her it would be a little weird. Realizing that nothing probably wasn't a good answer he substituted, "Your hair in the moonlight. You look familiar." She stumbled slightly. He righted her, feeling her skin, cold as marble beneath his calloused hands. "Can you make it?"
"Just haven't eaten much today," Roger's suspicions heightened, and he wondered if his paranoia was obvious. "At least the room stopped spinning, anyway," She continued. "What?" She asked, upon noticing the strange look emblazoned on his face.
"Nothing." Not again. Jeez Roger, he chided himself. Can you not think of a better answer? "Your smile reminded me-"
"I always remind people of," she cut him off a little exasperatedly before returning to her normally flirtacious self. "Who is she?"
"She died." Yeah, that was the easiest explanation. "Her name was April."
"It's out again," she gestured towards her candle, helping relieve some of the tension that had leaked into the air. "Sorry about your friend. Would you light my candle?"
"Well," he started.
"Yeah. Ow!" She explained as the hot wax fell onto her slender fingers.
"Oh, the wax, it's-" Once more she cut him off.
"Dripping! I like it between my-" She grinned seductively at him.
"Fingers!" He stammered quickly. "I figured. Oh well, goodnight." Roger replied awkwardly, feeling rather hot and bothered by her comments. She left, but not a minute had passed before he heard the increasingly familiar: tap tap tap.
"It blew out again?"
"No, I think that I dropped my stash." Roger fleetingly pictured her with a mustache that had somehow fallen off her face before he realized what she was talking about. Whatever I'm on, I need to get off it, he thought bemusedly.
"I know I've seen you out and about, when I used to go out," he added belatedly. "Your candle's out."
"I'm illin', I had it when I walked in the door. It was pure," she groaned. "Is it on the floor?" She dropped to her knees and crawled on the floor, leaving her ass high in the air.
"The floor?" He asked in confusion, although really, it made perfect sense.
"They say that I have the best ass, below fourteenth street." Whoa, what? "Is it true?" …Way to change the topic, but,
"What?"
"You're staring again." She informed him with a smirk.
"Oh no." She had noticed. Shit. "I mean, you do, have a nice… I mean," Let's get back on track here! "You look familiar," he repeated.
"Like your dead girlfriend." She shot back at him, a smile curving the edge of her lips. Roger stiffened at her words.
It had happened a long time ago, when he had been passing through a small, rainy town playing a couple of gigs. No one really stayed there and he hadn't intended to either, but girls did funny things to a man's intentions. However, this girl with her seductive smiles and nicely rounded-ahem, anyway this girl had no idea how close she had hit the mark.
He hadn't known her for long, but thinking about April still had a way of making his blood run cold.
She had snuck into his heart with grace and beauty, yet he had been attracted to neither. She had always seemed a little insecure; it was as though the previous two qualities were not always inherent to her. She had been drawn to his voice, and the two had hit it off right away. Back then she went by the name April, but apparently that wasn't true.
He had found this out one night when he went to visit her at her apartment.
A man's voice was resonating from inside, and he restrained himself from immediately knocking on the door when he heard raised voices.
"I know we said we'd take some time to see other people since I pushed marriage on you so young, but really Bella, you've got to think about how he feels."
Who was Bella?
"You have to leave Edward, Roger's going to be here any minute now!" Wait-what was that about marriage?
"He thinks that there's a future in your relationship, but there is none." Edward pressed on. His voice dropped lower before he said the next part, but Roger could still hear them through the flimsy walls. "You can't have children because you're dead. I mean," he paused as though he was reluctant to bring it up. "Does he even know you're a vampire?" Roger felt his jaw drop. This couldn't be real. She was obviously having one on him, because she knew he was standing there.
"No, and I don't plan on telling him Edward, so if you could just butt out!" April never raised her voice, and hearing it now made him realize that she was completely serious.
Luckily she also had no idea he was there; Roger hightailed it out of that apartment, out of that town, and started doing heavy drugs for months afterward. He had slept with a dead girl! Well, she was a vampire, but it was still necrophilia. At least he thought it was.
Anyway, the fact that she was a vampire was some pretty freaky shit in and of itself which is why I spent most of my days for months afterwards doped up and I mean, come on, could you blame me? Of course, there was no way he could tell her his story about why hearing the words 'your dead girlfriend' freaked him out. There was no way he could ever say any of that out-loud, so he settled for,
"Only when you smile, but I'm sure I've seen you somewhere else."
"Do you go to the Cat Scratch Club? That's where I work; I dance."
"Yes!" He cried with the familiar satisfaction of someone who has figured out the niggling puzzle in the back of their brain. "They used to tie you up," he grinned.
"It's a living," she retorted in irritation.
"I didn't recognize you without the handcuffs," He smirked as he twisted his wrists together in some sort of mockery.
"We could light the candle," She tried to sidetrack him from her less than reputable career. "Oh won't you light the candle?"
"Why don't you forget that stuff, you look like you're sixteen."
"I'm nineteen," Older than Bella, he thought. "But old for my age." Not that old though comparatively I bet. "I'm just born to be bad," she declared. She had no idea.
"I once was born to be bad… I used to shiver like that."
"I have no heat I told you," she babbled her excuses.
"I used to sweat."
"I have a cold." …He'd heard them all before.
"Uh huh," he rolled his eyes before coming straight out with it. "I used to be a junkie."
"But now and then I like to, feel good."
"Here it is." He picked up the little ziplock bag. "Um," His resolve wavered.
"What's that?"
"It's a candy bar wrapper," he lied, stuffing it in his pocket. The memories that had been resurfaced tonight needed to be dealt with somehow…
"We could light the candle. What'd you do with my candle?"
Screw this. The girl can get herself a freaking flashlight. "That was my last match." He told her as he collapsed onto his couch.
"Our eyes'll adjust, thank God for the moon." She draped herself on the couch beside him leisurely.
"Maybe it's not the moon at all," he faced her. "I hear Spike Lee's shooting down the street."
"Bah humbug. Bah humbug."
"Cold hands," Roger whispered, taking hers in his own almost reverentially. They felt exactly like April's-Bella's, he winced.
"Yours too. Big. Like my father's." Okay then… not that I ever plan on holding hands with him, but thanks for the info. "You wanna dance?" She asked, jumping up excitedly. Was she on crack? …Nevermind.
"With you?"
"No… with my father."
"I'm Roger." Wow, we don't even know each other's names and she comes waltzing into my apartment…
"They call me," she circled around him, coming rather close. His breathing sped up in anticipation. "They call me, Miiiiimiiiii!" She spun, dangling the little white bag between her two fingers before sweeping out of the room, leaving Roger feeling completely sideswiped.
How had he not noticed her sticking her hand down his pants? That was completely unexpected… but one thing was for sure, she was definitely a much needed distraction.
And so it ends. For now. I might go back to this story if there's interest, or if I'm supremely bored... Review? :)