Disclaimer: I don't own True Blood.
I woke to what sounded like incessant pounding on the front door. Clambering down the ornate stair case and nearly sliding on the tile of the front entranceway, I yelled a pissed, "What?" Though there were windows on either side of the carmine red door, I was unable to see who stood behind it. They stood at just the right angle so their entire body was blocked by the thick board. I put my iPhone down on the round table kept in the entranceway and reached for the door knob. I wish I'd left my iPhone in my hand. At least I would have had some kind of weapon for when the bloodsucker attacked.
"Ooh, now you smell delish," the middle aged man outside said once I'd swung the front door wide open. He was pallid, paler than paper, but with baby blue eyes bright and full of the unknown. His red hair shook slightly in the breeze. His chest - actually, his whole body - was as still as a marble statue. The man looked me up and down before asking, "Would you happen to know if Jeremiah Jackson is home?"
I closed the door a little. "Who wants to know?"
He clamped his hand on the door and pushed it back open, easily overpowering me. He smiled, fixed his tailored suit with his free hand. "Russell Edgington," the man said, seeming to puff out his chest. "Vampire king of Mississippi. Now, sonny, please do answer my question." It was a demand, not a question. Russell stared at me with the same intensity seen in animals before they pounce. "Is," he tried again, annunciating each word as much as his thick Southern accent would allow him to, "Jeremiah Jackson home?"
I wanted to beat around the bush. There was no need for this vampire king to know that Jeremiah, my best friend, was out of town on vacation in the Bahamas. Lonely little me, the less wealthy and famous, had agreed to housesit. I was completely and utterly alone in the five bedroom, three and a half bath home. I glanced over at my iPhone. "What's a vampire like you doing in Calabasas?" I prayed my voice didn't sound too frightened out of my wits.
Russell huffed, like he knew I thought he really wasn't Cali material. "Looking for your friend," he said smoothly, having figured me out. "Because he has something of mine that I need back." He raised his eyebrows, a silent question I read as him asking if I knew anything about the missing something. "A certain two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, Lovelett."
His words were a one-two punch. Not only had Jeremiah stolen from the vampire king of Mississippi, but the vampire king quite obviously knew my name. Either he had done research or he could read minds. I know for a fact some vampires can read minds. I didn't just watch the Anderson Cooper special for the hot female bloodsuckers. "You're," I said real slow, "shitting me right?"
Russell's face fell, dead serious. "Not shitting you, dawg."
"But why would Jeremiah be so stupid," I mumbled more to myself than the killer in front of me. "Money has never been an issue. There was the Sundance movie, the Vitamin Water ad, the modeling gig..." Keeping tract of my best friend's success had become somewhat of an occupation of mine. I was somewhere between obsessive fan and agent. "Last time we talked about cash, he seemed like he had shitloads of it. I mean, look at this house."
Russell looked to his right, his left with an almost imperceptible movement. "Uh-huh," he said, uninterested. "While I am overwhelmed with joy to see my money being put toward great residencies, I am disgusted with Jeremiah's design choices." He focused his eyes on my face. He no longer smiled. "Now he needs to return the money or I will have him murdered, wherever he is. No one steals from the king of Mississippi and remains around to play with what he's stolen. Plus," he said, perked up, "I have a certain lover who requires that the two hundred and fifty thousand be back in our account. He, like your friend, has expensive taste."
I reached behind me for my iPhone. "Can I give you his cell number?" I lied, knowing Jeremiah's cell phone number off the top of my head. What I planned to do was have the bloodsucker submit to my offer, then slam the door closed once he allowed me to move. What I didn't take into consideration was his fingers curled around the door.
"Have you ever modeled?"
I faced him. Our conversation had just become what Jeremiah and I called an 'ADD convo.' I leaned against the front door, thrown off guard by his attempt to stroke my ego. "A few times," I tried to answer gruffly, as if I didn't care. "For a little mag called GQ, before Jeremiah came along. Then I pretty much got dumped, told I was too old to convey the image they were about, and some other bullshit. My career lasted two, three years. I did it all without an agent, which I pride myself on..."
Russell smirked. "Yes, yes, because I was going to say you look too good to be a housekeeper." He bit his lip, an action that caused the hair on the back of my neck to stand on end. "Though," he nearly growled, "not if you were to come keep house over at my place. Boy would Talbot get a kick out of you. Ooh, maybe a few quarts of blood out of you as well. You eat any citrus fruits?"
I dug my nails into my palm to keep from blanching. "I eat a lot of fruits."
"Mm, I see that."
I wished I'd put on a shirt before answering the door. Standing in front of a bloodsucker who appears to be coming onto you in nothing more than plaid pajama pants isn't the best feeling. At least he was no longer threatening. Being five feet eleven inches, having a full head of jet black hair and big brown eyes, and covered up in naturally tan skin, a lot of people came onto me. Maybe it was the exotic mix of Portuguese, Hawaiian, Japanese that had people saying hubba hubba. I knew the feeling all too well, originating from the fiftieth state and moving to the not-as-diversified mainland when I was seven. Now twenty two and staring back at the bloodsucker, I recognized the look he gave me, the look of defensiveness, curiosity, desire that I'd dealt with for ages. Yet all I could think about was why I didn't do sit-ups that morning.
"What kind of a name is Lovelett?"
I made to close the front door. "A stupid one. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
Russell pushed back on the painted board between us. "I am afraid you can't do that, my dear." He stepped over the threshold without a cringe or a burst of flames. "You see," he said, "since you don't own this property, you don't have the power to deny me access. You can't invite me in; you can't kick me out." He shut the front door with his foot. "Plus, there's still the teeny matter of my two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. What do you propose we do?"
I reached for my iPhone again, hand shaking. Jeremiah had given me instructions for the washer, dryer, trash compactor, dishwasher, television, my own body. He hadn't left me instructions on how to handle a ripped off, pissed off vampire king. Heck, as far as I knew, vampires didn't frequent Los Angeles. They were down south, where they existed as if in an Anne Rice novel. "How about," I said in the best sales pitch voice I could manage, "I give you Jeremiah's cell phone number? Or how about his agent's cell phone number?" I hated to sell his agent out, but if anyone was to get hurt, I decided best it be the responsible party.
"Don't bother - I already have my reparation."
Then Russell was on top of me, and we fell to the floor in a jumble of legs, arms, and fangs. I felt like I'd just run right into a marble wall. The tiled floor against my back was cold, like the vampire against my chest. Though I punched and kicked, he found the artery in my neck in seconds. I cried out while the vampire king chomped down on that blood-drenched artery and sucked and sucked. Like a crazed dog, Russell didn't want to give me the slightest chance for movement. His tongue licked my neck, his hand grabbed my groin, his fingers stroked my cock. I stilled, retracted inside myself, and watched the silhouette of a palm tree outside through the window. I cried the hardest when the bloodsucker slid into me without warning or preparation. I'd never been with another guy. Not only could I feel wetness dribbling down my neck, but wetness dribbling between my parted legs. I clung to Russell, having no other source of comfort. He whispered something about getting used to it, getting addicted to it, never wanting anything else but it.
He finished inside me. As soon as I heard his primal groan of ecstasy, I scrambled for my pajama pants. My head spun, I saw four, five, six hands in front of me instead of two. Russell said something else and shoved me back onto my back. I think I started to cry, but I'm not quite sure. My eyes felt terribly dry, unlike the rest of my used and abused body. And here I used to think marijuana was self-harm every time I lit up. A blunt was nothing compared to a bloodsucker. While I cursed God, cursed the universe, cursed karma, I also told myself I might have somehow deserved what had come. I was disgustingly jealous of Jeremiah. I was his best friend because I wanted to be close to the one person I hated the most. Better be with him and attempt to beat him later, than to just attempt to beat him.
"Why'd he go now?" I heard myself breathe. "Almost like the motherfucker knew..."
Russell's pallid, blood streaked face was inches from mine. For a moment, I thought he must have been pretty adorable as a child. "Well, like you humans say," he said, breath smelling of iron, "everything happens for a reason. Aw, don't look so down, pumpkin. Should you want to find Jeremiah Jackson after tonight, you'll have more than enough time to do so. If, that is, you can escape Talbot. It has been years since I have brought home a present for him."
I rolled onto my stomach and started to crawl away. Even if my body felt torn to shreds, everything in me screamed that being a vampire present was definitely wrong. I would rather die in the coat closet by the stair case than spend another minute with Russell. Blood had puddled on the tiled floor, which caused my fingers to constantly slip and my body to really go nowhere. I soon gave up, lied facedown on the floor. I knew Russell was probably watching me with amusement in his eyes. I had no chance.
The vampire king of Mississippi picked me up like a burlap bag, slung me over his shoulder, and took me from the house.
