-Author's Note: I don't mean to interrupt my own story, but I feel another disclaimer is in order. Also, I'd love it if you guys reviewed my story! Thanks to the people that already have, your comments were really encouraging!
-Disclaimer: All characters in this are © their respective creators. I don't own Lost Boys in any form other than DVD. Some inspiration taken from the game Vampire: The Masquerade.
David sat in his makeshift bed on the floor and waited for his head to clear and his skin to dry. Every time he closed his eyes, however, flashes of the nightmare danced across his eyelids in that same, eerie, reddish tint. Shaking his head to rid himself of the repeated images of blood and gore, he stood himself up and headed to the washroom.
He turned the faucet to cold and let it run over his hands for a moment, then briskly splashed some onto his face. "Wake up," he muttered to himself, then grabbed the towel to dry off. Neglecting the mirror in front of him, he ran his fingers through the bed head-tangle of hair and smoothed it back into the usual white-blonde ponytail.
David walked toward the counter with the till, and then remembered the paper that Max had given him the evening before. As he walked up to the table and chairs, the morning sunrays flashed through the window and hit his eyes. "God," he mumbled. "I only had one glass." Living alone on the streets, David had become accustomed to the occasional words to himself when no one else was around. The bottle and glasses were gone, but the paper lay where he had left it. He had to squint to see through the feeble sunlight just to read the few words on the paper. He felt as if he had not slept at all the night before.
As he tried to avoid a migraine by shading his eyes, there was a quiet rapping on the window. He looked up through his fingers to see a short, bespectacled girl waving at him. He made his way over to the door and unlocked it. "Are you the new help?" he asked, and only too late realized that his voice had not yet apparently woken up to join him.
He cleared his throat and coughed a little. The girl looked a bit uneasy at such a gruff greeting, but she squeaked out a "yes" and toed a pebble on the ground. He gestured her in right as another lad walked up to the door. He looked to be older than David, but not by more than three years. The girl appeared to be about sixteen. They both made their way inside and David once again closed the door.
"Right," he started. "Let's begin with introductions. My name is David. I have been working with Maximillion for a few weeks now, preparing the store. I will mostly be-" he grimaced as the sunlight outside became stronger. "-err… I will be working with stocking the shelves and working toward the back by the register." He pointed to the girl, and she turned the slightest shade of pink at being addressed.
"Um, Sylvia," she said to the floor. "I just moved here with my parents. They said I needed to work."
"Alright, Sylvia, you will work near the front. Greet people as they come in, and tidy up when no one is here." David was still squinting horribly, and was certain that his eyes were bloodshot. With such a hangover, they must be as red as the book he'd been reading. He searched over the sheet in his hand, and looked at the other newcomer.
Arms folded, the lad saw that attention was now drawn to him and immediately began to look uncomfortable. His arms fell to his sides stiffly and he shifted his weight from side to side. David arched an eyebrow and the lad responded with a low, hesitant "Jonathan Hardy," followed by thrusting out his large hand. David took it and the two exchanged a subtle head nod and a firm handshake. "Used to work at the hotel as a busboy. Been in and out of jobs since."
"Hopefully you'll stay on here for a little longer, Jonathan," David replied. "You will be helping customers find what they like. I will be in the back for most of the day. If someone wants to buy a book or two, just call me. I trust both of you to stay away from the cash drawer, so please do not let me down."
Jonathan and Sylvia looked at each other apprehensively, and then began to look around the store. David looked once more at the sheet in his hand to make sure he covered everything before saying to both, "We open soon. Any questions?"
"Y-yes," Sylvia stammered, raising her hand. She pulled it back quickly when David squinted in her direction. "Where is Maximillion? Shouldn't he be here when his store opens for the first time?"
David paused to consider an answer, and finally replied, "He's a night owl. He was here all last night to make sure everything went smoothly this morning." What that he raised the paper as a sign of Max's work, then started toward the back of the store. He crumpled the sheet into a ball as he went and let it fall into the wastebasket behind the counter.
"Get to work," he said over his shoulder. "I'll unlock the door in ten minutes." He disappeared into the storeroom and let out a yawn that he had been stifling since he woke up.
Sylvia and Jonathan looked at each other again and he extended his hand. She took the offer and he gently grasped her fingers, pecked a kiss on her knuckle, and disappeared into the stacks. She walked to the table and began to straighten the chairs when she noticed a mark on the table. A reddish, dried liquid. Wine, she thought. David and Maximillion were working hard, indeed.
David had ten minutes to feel well enough to function before the store opened. The anxiety of thinking about his job and warm home was not helping the situation. He glanced at the rumpled coat lying on the floor in the corner. Sleep was reaching out to him with ethereal arms. The coat looked so warm and cozy; even the floor looked soft.
Five minutes to go. How many customers could we have today? he thought. Dracula lay on the lowest shelf near his coat. He had read half the book with slight difficulty so far, but now the red cover shone with some strange sense of familiarity.
Mustering that extra ounce of strength that hides in the gut, he stood up and made his way stiffly to the front door. Squeezing his eyes nearly shut as they began to water – the sun was up now and greeting the waves across the pier with great vigor – he flipped off the lock, opened and propped the door, and quickly shielded his eyes again. Fresh ocean air… he thought. That should clear my mind. But this time he found the smell to be tainted. This time, the ocean air smelled like death.
David turned in disgust to be greeted with the sight of Sylvia cleaning the wine ring off the table. "Thanks," he said. She looked up at him. "What is this?" she asked. "It seems too thick for wine." She scrubbed the tabletop a little harder, trying to soften the liquid.
"It was wine," he said after a moment's pause. Later he realized that it might have sounded too defensive, like he was hiding something. At the time, though, all he could think about was the warm coat that awaited him, and how he really could fall asleep standing up at that very spot. If he had to hang by his feet from the ceiling, he would still be tired enough to sleep in comfort.
He made his way back to the dark, silent storeroom before Sylvia could ask another question. Shutting the door behind him, he let out a long, deep sigh and crumpled on top of his coat, immediately falling into a deep, black sleep.