This is for the VampireSisters website fanfic challenge.
PG 13
All disclaimers.
WICKED GAMES
Logan Griffiths didn't get out much; that was putting it mildly, but tonite was special. He had met this girl who had asked if he wanted to go to the best club in Los Angeles. He was glad he didn't shy away, as he normally would have done, because it was turning out to be the most of fun of his life.
Now he was downtown at the resurrection of Club Valois, under new management, and without the killer vampire, Lola and the black crystal; at least he hoped so. One thing he did know was there were plenty of vamps both downstairs and upstairs in the VIP room. Logan could sense them watching through the one way glass, checking out the prospects.
All Logan knew was that the downstairs had a killer dance floor and the girl, Emily, could really dance! It also helped that the steps weren't complicated, since he had only known the Chicken Dance from his former life.
Emily indicated she was finally ready to slow down so they went in search of a table but the place was really crowded. Logan looked up suddenly someone upstairs was talking. He could hear their voices!
And he knew those voices. He grinned, leading her out of the main floor and up the steps to the VIP room. She cocked her head at him, as if to say, you got connections?
Unlike what Beth had experienced, there were no high-tech gadgets needed here at the base of the steps. No, being vampire appeared to be all the credentials he needed for entrance.
Emily laughed with delight when she saw the intimate lighting and decor, and downright whooped when she saw the piece de resistance: the karaoke blood bar.
Logan didn't get it, what the heck? But she pointed out if you wanted your drink up here, looks like you would have to sing for your supper!
He gulped and started to turn back downstairs when a hand was put on his shoulder and he was twirled around to face his tormentor: Josef.
"Not on my mother's life, Josef. I can't sing. Never have, never will. I'm aces at other things. Ask me to play World of Warcraft, or how about some Guitar Hero? But no, I refuse to sing. Let's go, Emily!"
"Not so fast. How could you let this lovely lady go without even having one drink, Logan? You're up here and you're going to sing. Even Mick and Beth have agreed."
Logan looked around and saw a muitinous Mick and a cheerful Beth looking over the song selections.
"Alright. But only if you make the same deal with me that Mick got."
"How do you ...? Oh, yeah, the deal. With Mick. Sure, no problem. Why don't you kids go on over there and pick out your songs, too?
Josef went over to the bartender, who as instructed set up a round of shotglasses with chasers of blood.
"Prizes will be given out for best and worst songs. Order up your poison, everyone. Beth's agreed to be first. What'll it be?
Beth whispered to him and a Cosmopolitan appeared; the music started. It was that old Cindy Lauper song, True Colors.
Beth belted it out then at the end turned towards Mick and blew him a kiss.
"I see your true colors shining through, true colors ... true colors."
Josef as moderator got on the mike. "Wow, Beth, who knew you could sing? Alright, next up, Mick? Come on, we know you're just dying to get up here. What'll it be? Bartend, Scotch for the Irishman. Yeah, yeah, the good stuff. Spare no expense."
Mick took a swig, then the music of The Doors came on, the first rippling keys familiar to everyone. Then Mick's rich baritone sounding eerily like Jim Morrison's voice:
"Riders on the Storm, into this life we're born ..."
When it was finished, and those last soulful notes drifted away, Josef looked at his friend: "Again, amazing, see I knew you could do it, Mick. Bit of channeling Morrison or is he really dead? I've heard rumors of his walking around Paris after dark."
In succession, others joined in. Emily sang a pretty good Aretha, "R.E.S.P.E.C.T", then the still reluctant Logan schlumped on up. His drink of choice was just straight blood. He grinned and then sang a cappella the words to Gilligan's Island.
Laughing, Josef looked pained. "I cry foul. A theme song from the TVLand geek. What do you say, folks? Oh, alright. Actually, I'm impressed. I never could remember the name of that darn boat. What was it again?
"The Minnow. Oh, you're putting me on?"
"What do you say, shall we give him a prize? Yes, here you go, a year's supply of Yak blood."
Logan said, "Mick and I think it's time to pay the piper so laugh away, for it's your turn. The last but not the least, Josef Kostan. Belly up to the bar, and give the man your order."
A quick nod and Josef threw back a double scotch.
"This is for you, Lola, the former owner of this club and the best damn 500 year old pirate I ever knew." The music came on, wah, wah ... wah, wah.
Logan glanced at Mick, and they exchanged looks for they knew that music: Chris Isaak's Wicked Games.
"The world was on fire, no one could save me but you,
It's strange what desire will make foolish people do,
I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you,
And I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you.
No, I didn't want to fall in love ... (this world's gonna break your heart)
No, I didn't want fall in love ... with you. No, I ...
Nobody ... loves ... no ... one."
All was quiet. No one spoke, until Mick said,
"Deals off. You win, Josef."
Logan was concerned. "Uh, Mick, what did we just bet him? I mean, I thought it was just quid pro quo, you know, we sing, he sings."
Mick eyed Logan. "That was a sucker bet, buddy. You know Josef never bets unless to win ..."
Josef joins them. "Winning is everything, gentlemen, of course, humiliation's good, too. How about it, Mick?"
"Yeah, yeah, but leave the kid out of it."
"What would be the fun in that? Okay, the bet was the winner of the most mournful, godawful song gets to have the loser(s)- plural - sing a song of his choice.
Mick looks at Logan. "A bet's a bet. What'll it be, Josef?"
"Let's see ... Streisand or Minnelli ... no, I know."
He went over and punched out a number. The strains of another Cindy Lauper started up.
He grinned as "Girls just wanna have fun" came on.
Their performance brought down the house.
