Any characters/plots/histories/circumstances, etc. found within the movie/novelization/script or otherwise stated for the movie The Lost Boys isn't mine. Duh. Any characters/plots/histories/circumstances, etc. not found within the movie/novelization/script or otherwise stated for the movie The Lost Boys is mine. So no touchy.
I figured it's about time to get the Histories series started since I've had a chunk of Dwayne's story written for a while. I need that kind of jumpstart, you know? So this is Dwayne's story from how he goes from a human in New York to a vampire in California. Posting will probably be my usual sporadic goodness. Don't say I didn't warn you. But I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. All of these stories are stand alone and you don't need to read any of my others works to get them (although I'd love you more if you did :)). I'm writing them non-sequentially so the stories themselves in the greater series will be all over the place but it's irrelevant to their greater posting.
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The coke and liquor formed a milky-looking substance as the rag smeared it across the bar top. At least there weren't any stray needles around. He fought the urge to stab someone with one every time one pricked his finger when he was cleaning up after the junkies. It would have been so much easier to do it too, if they were genuine junkies. The strung out assholes that twitched on the floor or threw up on the bar or snorted blow through the same straw they drank their cocktail out of. The wastes with rags for clothes and nubs for teeth. But these weren't those people. At least they didn't wear rags and had all their teeth. These were Cecilia Langden and Brett Stratham and Gina Marlow. They were actors and actresses and stock brokers that had the money to pile down on the good stuff and get away with acting like trash. The Digm doesn't allow the street type of trash in but if you had the money, you could act it all you wanted.
The only reason Dwayne kept biting holes in his tongue and donning those ridiculous shorts was for the money. He felt like a ten cent whore wearing nothing but Converse and shorts he had to tape himself into so he wouldn't fall out but he certainly wasn't getting ten cent tips. If he let the dog loose, he'd get even more. He was already taking it hard as it was. He didn't need to be reduced to his knees too.
Seth, the owner of The Digm, thought he was a walking god when they passed on the street that day a few months ago. Dwayne was in a t-shirt and jeans and his failsafe leather jacket that was lined with bags of coke and pot that he was muling for money. Skills and school weren't his thing and peddling made him ten times as much as lugging boxes. He wasn't doing this for him but for his son, Kyle, that slept in a warm bed in Chelsea and he wasn't about to forfeit that. Not after what he pulled him out of when he was with Kayleen.
At first he thought Seth was a cop and did his best to push him off but the man just kept coming on. Seth batted for a team Dwayne didn't and he knew that but it didn't mean he didn't try. The promise of thousands of dollars a night just for serving drinks was too rich an offer to pass up, even with his new boss hitting on him. It was a discomfort Dwayne was willing to swallow for the money and for Kyle. He'd heard about The Digm and the parties and the people and even though he'd be the help, he wouldn't be around the scum anymore.
Or so he naively thought. Things didn't go so well when Dwayne broke it off with the ringers but Seth promised him protection as long as he worked there. The lord that tried to stab him in the alley when he was taking out the garbage one night ended up being a feature on the evening news as the cops fished his body from the Hudson. The gang caught on quick and they'd backed off but they were patient. Unlike his customers.
Dwayne got halfway to laid every time he walked out from behind the bar. It was cool at first and the tail he fucked in every corner of that club had the bragging rights of a billboard in Times Square. But it got old quick, especially after that first penicillin prescription. He stopped after that which didn't make the honeys too happy and it really trashed up Dwayne's vision of them all. The only difference between the people in The Digm and the thugs on the street were their jobs. They both had money, they both had ass and they both had drugs. They just took different routes to get it.
Every guy in Seth's employ was gorgeous. All of them wore the same thing and all of them got treated the same way. Neither the bitches nor the queers were at all shy about how they felt about any of the servers. One woman stopped one of his buddies in the middle of a serve and jerked him off. Never spilled a drop of the drinks but had to wait the table with cum running down his leg.
There were different levels of servers at The Digm, Dwayne got to skip the lowest level, bussing, and went right to bartender. That pissed a few of the veterans off and they kept bugging him for head techniques since that had to have been the only way he could jump a ladder rung. A lot of them aspired to work the VIP rooms; best money, drugs and sex in there. Dwayne just wanted to do his job and go home. The thrill wore off way too quickly for this gig and after only a couple of months, Dwayne was questioning whether it was still worth it.
There was just one problem: the gang would be on him and even worse, on Kyle, the second he stopped worked at The Digm. But he couldn't keep doing this forever. He didn't even know if he could make it to the end of the week.
Something wet splashed onto his chest. Dwayne turned his head to face the bar and caught a deep red head climbing on top of the bar with her head dipping down. Her tongue running up his bare chest prickled his spine. He might have been sick of it all, but his body wasn't dead. She sucked his tongue into her mouth and dug her nails into his shoulder. Dwayne played along like the good little bitch that he was until she pulled away and slapped him in the face. When he turned back to her, the half-lidded slurring face of Hollywood's finest actress, Marlena Stenum, was grogging back at him.
"Get me another drink, sweets, and I'll suck your cock when you get back."
The thing was, he could whip it out and slap it on the bar and she'd do it right there if she wasn't unconscious on the floor when he got back. The whole situation would have been a little more tolerable if the speakers were pumping Zepplin or Morrison but disco was the high time and polyester didn't mix with drum solos or his ass shorts. Dwayne grabbed the cleanest rag he could find and wiped down his chest with it. The bitch was so high she wouldn't even notice, or remember for that matter.
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It was always just getting light out whenever Dwayne was getting off work. It would be ages before the sun could find its way through the sky scrapers and the blue-gray the morning sky cast on the city blended everything together. He hopped on the E smelling like he just rolled out of an orgy but at least looking like he'd had a hard night in a rock bar, not being Seth's slut at the premiere disco bar in New York City. Not like all that glamor mattered. Rush hadn't even started yet and he was still sharing the car with the homeless that hadn't been shoved out yet.
Molly was already up when he walked in the door, like she normally was. The dark roast was thick in the air and like ritual, she offered him a cup even though she knew he wasn't going to take it. Habit on both sides.
Dwayne really didn't know what he would do if Molly weren't around. He could hire a sitter but that seemed so sterile to her. She was the building's own built-in grandma. She'd been in her rent-controlled apartment since the 40s, still paying the same price, and she'd really taken a liking to Kyle when he'd first knocked on her door selling candy bars for school. She wasn't stupid. She knew exactly what Dwayne did and what he was doing now and despite her religion (which she wore all over her apartment, complete with the velvet portrait of Jesus in her dining room), she treated Dwayne and Kyle like her own family, never lecturing them on the rights and wrongs. Whatever Dwayne did for a job, he didn't bring it home with him and Molly liked that. That and the fact that he was raising his son right for a single dad.
Today she'd brought over some bacon and eggs and a loaf of thick Italian bread. Probably from the bakery down the street. He was constantly telling her he had food but she wasn't hearing any of it. As she walked away from him, her coffee cup in hand to grab her overnight bag, he couldn't help but marvel at her hair. He did it every time he saw her. It was always done up in a salt and pepper bun, pulling tight back on her face, and looked the same the next morning as it did the previous night. Dwayne wondered if she slept bolt upright or upside-down to keep it so pristine but she was a woman of her time and that meant appearance always.
She gave him a goodnight kiss on the cheek before she left, her morning habit with her adoptive son. He had to remember to stick her payment in her mailbox even thought he knew it'd end up right back in his. Molly never accepted his money and said Kyle making her feel young was payment enough.
The couch called to him as soon as he shut the door. A quick glance at the clock told him he had an hour before Kyle had to start getting ready for school and he planned to use that time for the deepest nap he could get in such a short amount of time.
"Hi, Dad," came a sleepy voice from the hallway.
Or not.
"Hey, buddy," Dwayne said as he sat up, resisting the pull of the couch. "Why are you up so early?"
Kyle only shrugged his. He looked just like Dwayne (which was a huge relief for him, knowing Kayleen) but with shorter hair. He could grow up to look like him, just not be like him.
"Just woke up."
"Well, how 'bout some breakfast? Auntie Molly left some bacon and eggs and bread. Want a sandwich?"
Kyle's nod shook the rest of the sleep from him as he ran to the kitchen and flipped on the light. Dwayne cringed at the brightness but went right for the frying pan. He could sleep when Kyle was at school.
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