The old man thought about those eyes, those blue/green eyes, they sparked with willfulness. So long ago and so far away a dream evaporated in the undead heart of a young man. Yes, he was a young man even though the boy's year measured only "two score" in 1963.
1963….the year I lost Dawn, the year the country marched on Washington for jobs and freedom, the dark moment when the country lost a President my age to a sniper's bullet. And by the end of the tumultuous year, within eruptions of civil disobedience and society's uprisings I was ensconced on the top floor of the Guaranty Title Building across from Pershing Square.
1965
The music lilting upward from the people in the park spoke volumes on depth of the passion of the 60's. Who fueled that passion? It wasn't the free love…. That free love was fueled by drugs and even in the lazy, crazy hazy days of free love and peace blood ran cold when it came to the nickels and dimes over dope, LSD, California sunshine, Lucy in the sky with diamonds well you get the image.
Would I say I, Mick St John profited from illegal drugs? No, I didn't, I never sat in an alley and swapped cash for a dime bag. Did I ever sip from the throat of a slightly hallucinogenic Freshie? Yeah, a lot, I tripped thru 1964, 1965 and when it was the day, the month and the year to show up on Lady Dawn's doorstep I was otherwise engaged.
"Mick" Josef's voice was slow, low and serious.
"J'sef" my reply was hampered by the fact that I was buried nose deep into the neck of a sweet young thing who thought "L.S.D." meant "lunch served at dawn". My cold, dead flesh was being overtaken by tiny tadpoles of surrealistic energy. I wanted to feast, I wanted to fuck and I wanted to lay there and let it all happen at once. I tanked there under her warm flesh letting her feed me. What did Josef want that was more important than this?
"Hey, Mick" Josef was over me, snapping his fingers a few inches from my half closed eyes. I jolted to, nearly dropping my meal; Josef caught her up in his arms and relieved me of my stupor in the same second. What the fuck did he want?
"You . . . . . have a visitor" he croaked as he watched the silhouette move in the double door frame. Had she come to me? Had Dawn come to me?
I swallowed hard at the profile; it wasn't Lady Dawn but a much more imposing figure from my past.
"Mick" a silken voice preceded a leather covered hand as it extended itself from the shadows and the rest of the black clad body moved to sidle up to me. "You called in a Cleanup beside the Biltmore last week and there are some details we need to follow up with you."
By now we were so close, we would have been swapping breath if we were mortal. But, if we were mortal we wouldn't be chatting about a pair of exsanguinated females left entwined together near the kitchen exit of the grand hotel overlooking Pershing Square. That was the sobering thought. I did my duty as a member of the LA Tribe and called in a Cleanup after I caught wind of the sound of scuffling and the preternatural hissing of primal rogues. So rather than to "spill" I waited for the questions.
"What hour did you happen upon the deceased?" She pulled out the smartphone and tapped in anticipation of my answer.
"You know it was 4:35am" no emotions in the room, just facts.
"And you scented no other "family"?" An eyebrow punctuated her question.
"I reported mixed scents, Fledglings, 1 or 2. It was too breezy to know" All info I had belched out sitting in the panel van, reciting it over was a buzzkill.
"You know, Mick, if you did this there's no penalty, you called for cleanup" The auburn pony tail bobbed as she shook her head. That body language negated her "absolution" to me. I drew my hands down into my pants pockets, standing there stiff armed. I felt 13, caught with too many soiled tissues for just a runny nose in my bedroom waste basket.
Josef's expression almost lightened at the thought that I'd take two on the road, as he said I had a problem with spontaneity. I shook my head," it wasn't me", I blew something off my upper lip and spun to return to my chair.
"Thank-you, Josef, Mick" The Cleaner nodded and stepped backward from the room as if I were royalty and the evening resumed where it had been interrupted.
"I thought you had done me proud, you know, shopped in your neighborhood" Josef smirked, lighting the Churchill cigar.
"Why take the chance when I can eat free, here?" there was no lingering sense of mischief in my voice, I meant it.
"Right…"Josef admitted before he nestled his head on the back of his wing chair. Josef was redwood within a grove of pines, a rock others broke themselves against. He only spoke with purpose and his purpose tonight was to tease me until a baser, more atavistic vampire emerged. No desiring an argument I figured it was time to boogie on home.
"G'd evening, Mr. St. John" The Doorman nodded as I entered the marble foyer, he bolted toward me a stack of mail, "Postal carrier took these to the unit below you, Ms. Stephani ask me to get them to you.
I took them and nodded, it would junk as I had a PO BOX for the good stuff. There on top, something that wasn't junk mail. Perhaps there was a willingness of the defense to prosecute me to the full extent of love's laws for the transgression of breathing too near, being too near, daring to be all that I was. You see, Ali had spent a number of weeks with me and I delivered the verdict…..I wasn't the guy for her…..She thought I had made the decision without her input, as if a mortal has a "say" in the matter.
Her brittle humanity spoke volumes to what she would lose with me; sooner or later I'd slip. "Many a slip between the cup and the lip" and certainly things did not happen at the last minute the way they were expected to due to unforeseen reasons. Reasons like I sipped a bit more than I should have, I left her nearly comatose after a night of jack-rabbit sex.
A Few Weeks Ago:
"Baby, Ali, baby…." Wake up "Baby are you ok?" she lolled, listless, limp. Her pulse was slow, so I lifted her eyelid, her eyes unresponsive. I freaked, it had been too much fun in too little time, and I shifted into emergency mode. And emergency mode meant bearing my soul to Josef's major domo.
"Hermes, man, I need your advice" I was shaking that the phone nearing clattered on my fangs that hadn't retracted. I was in a mood to say the least, "I think I nearly drained my date"
"Do you have O- blood on hand, Mr. St John?" his approach was dry, calculating.
"No, just A+" If a vamp could sweat, I would have. I couldn't stand when Coraline drained em and left em. I was on a first name basis with the entire Cleaner crew in the 50's and early 60's. I thought I had divorced myself from all of that. I paced, naked in the bedroom, almost feeling cold sweat covering my loins, by chest. If I had more than a sluggish heart beat I wouldn't be in this situation, but I almost felt like I needed a brown paper bag.
"What type was your guest?" again, ever so calm.
"A+" I was clutching the phone in one hand while covered Ali to stay warm.
"An A+ individual can receive blood only from individuals of groups A or O. I would recommend you keep some on hand for… … these type of circumstances, sir"
"I have A+, one bag" I was down the stairs perched at my reserve.
"Go ahead and transfuse her, I'll send over some backup" Hermes volunteered, no wonder he was Josef's main man.
And that was the reason I straightened up and "flew right" away from mortal women, it just gets too dicey when it tastes so damn good, their life force sings to me, their warmth, and their vitality….that tick-tock of their healthy hearts. It's all I want, to be human, mortal, corporal, finite in my humanity.
If I could have "thralled" her to believe it never happened I would have - so much for Hollywood balderdash, I was a guy with long fangs who could fuck all night but it always ended with my midnight snack, the pause that refreshed only me. And that was getting to be too rude an awakening the next day. No, no, no, it ain't me, babe, It ain't me you're lookin' for, babe. Those were my last words as I left the revived woman at her comfy Santa Monica apartment, why am I drawn to blondes from Santa Monica?
So I deserved the nasty note she penned on Crane stationary in a boarding school penmanship. At least I knew it wasn't a claim to be pregnant, the one upside of my nature.
"Mick-
Forget my name, forget my phone number-
If I had wanted your accountant to get this I would have used the PO Box, I wanted you to hold this is your cold dead hands, like you held me.
I know enough to keep my pretty little lips shut tight, just forget who I am and I'll forget you too.
Ali"
So, I was back to circling the clubs, feeding hard before I danced until dawn. Ali's scars were minimal; mine were lingering on my mind as scars lingered on a body or elsewhere on a heart.
By 1965 the music had grown stale, I wasn't playing – perhaps I should have picked up my guitar. I was retreating from humans to where my kind lurked. The garish light of day was like a bar after last call. I saw the trash without the treasure; I saw the body makeup as it rubbed off glorious naked bodies on my clothing.
Somewhere along the way the loft had gotten too small and my needs grown too big. Had I left those two women in the alley behind the Biltmore? Truth was I couldn't remember.
Go 'way from my window, Leave at your own chosen speed.
I'm not the one you want, babe, I'm not the one you need.
You say you're lookin' for someone never weak but always strong,
To protect you an' defend you whether you are right or wrong,
Someone to open each and every door, But it ain't me, babe, No, no, no, it ain't me, babe,
It ain't me you're lookin' for, babe.
Go lightly from the ledge, babe, Go lightly on the ground.
I'm not the one you want, babe, I will only let you down.
You say you're lookin' for someone who will promise never to part,
Someone to close his eyes for you, someone to close his heart,
Someone who will die for you an' more,
But it ain't me, babe, No, no, no, it ain't me, babe, it ain't me you're lookin' for, babe.
Go melt back into the night, babe, everything inside is made of stone.
There's nothing in here moving an' anyway I'm not alone.
You say you're looking for someone who'll pick you up each time you fall,
To gather flowers constantly an' to come each time you call,
A lover for your life an' nothing more, but it ain't me, babe,
No, no, no, it ain't me, babe, it ain't me you're lookin' for, babe…..