Well, you whined, you moaned, you cried...and you got what you wanted! -throws little bat confettis- ^O^
When I submitted the last chapter in Sweat It Out, and you guys were messaging me about making a sequel, I read all 6 chapters and I just said to myself, "I really feel like I'm not done telling this story." So here I will continue! XDD
As usual, here is my Disclaimer - I do not own the Lost Boys...if I had, the vampires would have totally dominated and Star would have been eaten by a goldfish or would have been instead a very cute MALE with long crimson hair named Tailo.
I hope you all enjoy reading. If you haven't read Sweat It Out, I suggest you go and read that first before starting Clandestine. 'Cause if you don't, this story is gonna make about as much sense as a Lil Wayne rap song.
Clandestine: needing to be concealed, usually because it is illegal or unauthorized
Alan pushed open the long doors of the comic shop. He tucked his key into his pocket and stepped in, pushing his bike.
Hey what do ya know?
The sunlight lit up the whole place. There were comic books on every shelf. He pushed his bike behind the counter and leaned it in the nook where he and Edgar always settled their bikes. He pushed a few buttons on the register and the drawer dinged open. There was cash in the drawer.
Alan lifted his eyebrows and pursed his lips. Well done, Fido. Then he pushed the drawer closed again.
He turned and stepped around the TV. He pushed open the door to the backroom. The room stunk of cannabis. The place was full of cardboard boxes which were full of comic books. There was another door on the wall to the right which led to the pathetic bathroom. And there was an old rugged sofa on which two people were draped across.
His mom sat with her arms crossed and her feet propped up on a box. His dad's head lay in her lap and his ankles were crossed on the arm of the sofa. Their sleeping faces were obscured by their wild, unwashed hair and their sunglasses.
Alan took one step forward and something clinked under his foot. He stepped back and looked down. There was an ashtray on the floor with a hunk of cotton candy, popcorn, and half of a hot dog. He cocked an eyebrow and stepped around the ashtray.
Alan leaned down, his dog tags clinking, and slipped the burned out joint from his dad's fingers. He tucked it under one of the couch cushions, knowing it would be found when needed. After all, his mom always said, "Without a trout, go dig in the sofa."
He left the backroom and went through the shop to the back entrance. He unlocked the pad and walked the doors open. He looked around the Boardwalk. The rides were going, the shops and stands were all open, and people crowded the place. He closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath in through his clear nose. It smelled good. It smelled like the ocean, popcorn, axel grease for the rides, cotton candy, and all kinds of other junk food. He'd missed being outside.
Then Alan frowned. He also missed his brother. Even with all the chatter and the music, it was silent without his loud, rowdy brother. He sighed quietly through his nose and went to the backroom, gathered a box and went back out to restock any empty spaces on shelves.
It had been merely two days since Alan was feeling healthy and Edgar had started realizing that he wasn't. In those two days, he hadn't seen much of his brother. Edgar shut himself in their bedroom and kicked Alan out of it if he stayed for more than two minutes. Edgar said that he didn't want to risk Alan getting sick again. Although, Alan thought it was stupid. Edgar had taken care of him while he was sick. He felt he should be able to do the same for Edgar while he was sick.
Alan knew Edgar would need him soon. He'd been through the feverish illness himself. That was the only thing that allowed Edgar to convince Alan to get back to the comic book shop. He knew that soon, Edgar would hardly be able to stand on his own and he'd soon start having black-out spells.
If that wasn't enough to induce Edgar, Alan decided that he's simply stay around him despite his brother's protests.
Alan glanced over at the counter when he heard shuffling and mumbling.
"Nosferatu. Nosferatu. I wanna watch Nosferatu today. Noseferatu." His mom said as she ducked under the counter. He watched his dad settle down next to the TV, a lit bogey between his lips. Alan could tell the two were already half-baked.
There was a small thump as his mom bumped her head under the counter. "Oh! Aw, damn. The ceiling is falling down again." His mom stood up with a VHS in one hand and her head in the other. She looked up at the ceiling and glared at it. "Stupid thing…always reaching down and…" Alan watched as his mom then tried several times to push the tape into the VCR. "…boppin' me on the head, like Foo-Foo the bunny. Jeez, stop moving."
Alan walked over and set down the box on the counter. He went around behind the counter. He took the tape gently from his mom's long, thin fingers and pushed it into the VCR.
"Yes. Good. I love this movie." She said, staring at the blank TV screen. Alan cocked an eyebrow, reached and flipped on the television set, bringing the movie to the screen. The tape wasn't fully rewound. Alan realized that the film playing wasn't Nosferatu, but the '85 film The Legend of Billie Jean. He looked at his mom who nodded in approval at the TV. "Yep. I love Nosferatu. I love this movie." She settled down beside his dad, took the joint from him and took a long drag.
Alan shook his head.
"Alan, the ceiling hit me in the head again." She said, letting out hazy smoke from her nostrils. Alan nodded, "I saw."
"Don't step on Fido's tail."
Alan shook his head, taking the box back into his grasp. "Don't worry, I won't."
"Good boy." She said, taking another hit. Alan wasn't sure if she was talking to him or the imaginary mutt. Instead of asking, he went back to the shelves.
In the next ten minutes, his mom and dad had sunk into a cannabis-induced comatose, leaving Alan to tend the shop by himself.
The next three hours were long. Alan sold some comic books; kept watchful eyes on suspicious characters, which was everyone who came walking into the store; rewound The Legend of Billie Jean on the television to keep the noise up in the place; and missed the company of his brother.
These were the things he and Edgar would do together. They would work their cover together. They would safely scope out any potential vampires in their hiding place in plain sight. And of course, it wasn't all business. They still had their ways to entertain themselves.
Alan was starting to feel lonesome. This wasn't a feeling that he felt often at all. He hadn't even recognized it at first. Usually he traveled in pair with his brother. Attached at the hip. Inseparable. There couldn't be one without the other. He wasn't used to the shop being void of Edgar's voice. He wasn't used to glancing around and not seeing his brother's mane of light brown hair and his headband.
"Hey, Alan."
Alan jumped, lifting his chin from his palm. He looked up at a smile. It belonged to their spiky-haired fashion victim.
"Hey, Sammy." Alan greeted eagerly, excited for the company.
Sam tucked his chin in a bit, studying Alan's face. "You look a lot better than you did. Last time around when I saw you, you looked dead."
"Oh, that's great, Sammy." Alan said, standing up from his stool behind the counter.
Sam nodded, "Yeah, I talked to Edgar on the phone two days ago. I was worried when he hung up on me. And then I got even more worried when I called the next day and he told me that you passed out in the shower."
Alan shrugged, stepping out from behind the counter, "You shouldn't have been worried. I don't even remember it."
"You don't remember anything?" Sam asked.
Alan shook his head, "Nope." He put his hands back to the counter, and hopped up to sit on it. Sam tucked his hands into his pockets, "Jeez. You musta bashed your head pretty good." Alan shook his head, lifting a hand to his hair, "No. I didn't even have a bump. A bruise or two on my knee and my elbows, but that's it."
Sam shrugged, "I didn't know. I talked to Edgar while you were still sleeping." Then Sam glanced around the store, "Hey, where is Edgar anyways?"
Alan frowned, "He's at home. He caught what I had." Sam raised his eyebrows, "Aww, that's gotta suck." Alan nodded, "Yeah, it is. He won't even let me take care of him. No, he won't even let me stay in the same room with him for more than a minute."
"GETCHUR SLIPPERY THIEVING PUNKASS PRONGS OUTTA MY STORE!"
Alan, Sam, the two girls in the comedy section, the guy in the Superman shelves, and the two boys that had just walked in through the front entrance jumped.
Alan pressed his palm to the counter, glancing back at his mom. Her head was snapped to attention, her sunglasses pointed at the two boys. Alan looked over at the two boys and observed their wide eyes.
"SIC'EM FIDO!"
Alan raised his eyebrows, Edgar wasn't exaggerating.
But then he heard something give a deep bark. Alan and Sam looked to the back entrance and saw a brown furry ball shoot across the floor. It barked loudly and monstrously. The two boys yelled out in fear and went running out of the shop. The ball of brown fur barked two more times before turning around.
It was a dog. An actual dog.
Sam asked, "Uh…when did you guys get a dog?" Alan shook his head, "We didn't." Alan glanced over his shoulder as his mom got up, and went toward the backroom, "Good Fido. Good Fido. Good boy."
Alan looked at Sam and then back at the dog. It was 20 inches tall with a bulky body. The pointed ears were small and stuck straight up on the top of its head. Its fur was mostly all brown except for the white chest and belly. The round tawny eyes were twinkling and the stub of a tail was wagging. Its collar had spikes on it.
Alan looked back at Sam, "What the hell is it?" Sam cocked an eyebrow and gestured at the dog, "Looks like an American Bully. Our neighbor had one back in Phoenix before my parents split up."
Alan looked at the Bully. Its nails tapped against the floor as it waddled toward the opening between the counters. Alan's mom came out of the backroom with the ashtray that had the half-eaten hotdog, the popcorn and the cotton candy in it. She set it down on the floor behind the counter, mumbling baby talk to the Bully. "That's a good Fido. Good boy." She settled down beside the TV again and seemed to just fade right back away.
Alan leaned back to look over the counter at the Bully eating on the floor. Sam leaned over the counter to look at it as well. They looked at one another.
Sam glanced at Alan's mom, and then whispered, "You know, I think that's the first time I've ever heard your mom talk."
Alan snorted, "She does her fair share of talking. Most of it doesn't make any sense. For example," He pointed strictly over the counter, "that's not our dog."
Sam asked, "Then how come it's here?"
Alan shrugged, "Hell, I don't know. Maybe it wanders around the Boardwalk. It probably comes in here because Mom feeds it junk food." He shook his head, glancing back over the counter at the Bully.
He leaned down and touched the tags hanging from the collar as it ate from the ashtray. He scoffed and sat back up, "Its name isn't even Fido. It's Venus." Sam snorted, "Oh, so Fido's a girl?"
Alan nodded.
Sam broke into laughter.
Alan cocked an eyebrow at Sam, waiting for the boy to stop laughing. He was still chuckling when Alan said, "It's ironic, Sam. It isn't hilarious." Sam sniffed, still smiling, "I can't help it. God, I never had this much entertainment back in Phoenix, even with MTV."
Alan cocked his eyebrow at Sam again, "Oh?"
"Yeah." Sam nodded.
Alan adjusted himself from where he sat on the counter, "So glad that my life provides so much entertainment for you, Sammy."
Sam nodded, his attention straying to the Superman comics, "Yeah, me too." He trotted over, picked up a comic book and flipped it open. Alan hopped down from the counter and went over to stand beside Edgar. "I sure hope you've been reading that copy of Vampires Everywhere we gave you."
"Nah, haven't had time."
Alan scoffed, "Okay then, don't cry when a bloodsucker comes after you and you didn't do your research." He watched Sam roll his eyes. He knew that Sam was another skeptic. And normally Alan and Edgar wouldn't involve civilians in their vampire business and would prefer them to just stay out of the way. But Sammy was their friend. Alan and Edgar had concluded that their only real friend deserved to know.
Maybe if Edgar was here to help…Alan thought. He heaved a sigh and went back over to the counter. He stepped behind it, careful not to step on Venus the Bully who was licking the ashtray clean and sat up on the stool again. He put his elbows on the countertop, folded his hands and rested his chin on his knuckles.
Sam came over with the Superman comic and leaned against the counter. "Jeez, you really are bummed about Edgar, aren't you?" Alan cocked an eyebrow at Sam, "What if it was your brother Mick, or whatever his name was?"
"Mike," Sam corrected. "And sure I guess I'd be a little worried about him; even if he did flip me upside-down and chase me downstairs when I bit his knee the day we first came to Santa Carla."
Alan squinted at Sam. "You bit…his knee?" Sam shrugged, "Hey, he flipped me upside-down." He added, chuckling, "It was pretty funny."
Alan looked down at the floor when he heard Venus's nails tapping against the floor. He and Sam watched the Bully waddle out of the shop and back out onto the Boardwalk, large tongue hanging out and little stub of a tail wagging.
Sam looked back at Alan who still stared after Venus, "Looks like Fido is off duty for the night." Alan nodded lightly, "So it does."
