The Barbarosa Club
Author's note: Even though author's notes are usually egotistical, I feel I need to get a point across. Yes, vampires and Gaian shifters are typically mortal enemies. They hate each other and kill each other on sight. But that is not always the case. Garrett doesn't yet understand what he is getting into by forming working (and sometimes personal) relationships with the kindred. Nor does he care at this point. He fails to see the larger picture thus far. Furthermore, he is his own person and makes his own choices as he sees fit. Also, a vampire would consider it quite a prize to have a shifter as a pawn they can manipulate to their own whims. Finally, this is fan fiction and anything can happen! That is all.
Enjoy!
The lone biker rode into Pittsburgh. The steel city had the look of an industrial wasteland and an urban metropolis simultaneously.
The cool April breeze on his face felt crisp, not quite as warm as Tennessee. The city at sundown was alive with activity, people everywhere in one big hurry. Garrett, however, was in no hurry. He was a day early for his gig, there was a little extra money in his pocket and for now, he would take his time.
After getting a room at a nearby motel, he decided to go to the club.
As he turned onto Victoria Street, the Barbarosa Club came into view. This place looked very trendy. It was a large, three level brick building, with a large black sign and flaming letters spelling out the name. He guessed there was probably a basement area as well. Velvet ropes were already in place, but apparently they had only just opened; no line had formed yet.
A day early could very well mean a step ahead of the competition, so he pulled in to have a look at the place. He parked his vintage motorcycle in the parking lot and walked to the door.
The place was dimly lit, with nice tables and chairs sporadically placed around the floor. The walls were hardwood, possibly mahogany. The floors were a dark green marble.
It's a high class place. I'm going to have to rethink my strategy for this one if I want to score points with the judges and the crowd.
There was a set of stairs leading down, to the left of the front door. Across the room there was a set of stairs as well as an elevator. He guessed the elevator would be the only way to the third floor.
A pretty girl in her early twenties manned the bar across from the door. The bar was as of yet sparsely populated. She leaned forward against the bar, twirling a lock of bright red hair as she skimmed through a college textbook.
Garrett walked to the bar and sat down right across from the bartender. She looked up from her book, gazed at the man in front of her and looked him up and down.
"What can I get for ya, handsome," she asked giving him a half smile. Garrett wasn't supermodel material, but his smooth, toned body and sharp features made plenty of the girls swoon readily.
"I need a beer, I have a question and then I might ask a favor," he replied, smiling. "I'm playing here tomorrow night in the talent show thing, and I was wondering where it was going to be held."
"It's gonna be on the third floor, hon."
"Is it open to the public at the moment?"
"Not yet … it opens up at around eleven."
Hmm … Let's try something and see if it works.
"Is there any chance I could pop up there and scout the place out? Get a feel for the acoustics maybe?"
He smiled and looked intently into her eyes. Come on charm, don't fail me now.
She looked at him with a 'you know that's not within my power' expression and walked to the end of the bar. She spoke into some sort of intercom, listened, then nodded. She walked over to Garrett's seat and smiled.
"I suppose it couldn't hurt. Go over to the elevator and hit 3, 6, 9 on the keypad."
Garrett's smile widened. "You're too kind."
He walked over to the elevator and did as he was instructed. The door opened a few seconds later and he got in.
After a brief ride up, the third floor opened up to him. It was spacious and very posh. A stage, lined with velvet curtains jutted out of the side wall. A mahogany bar ran across the wall on the other side. The place looked like a dinner theater, not a very appropriate place for a rock musician. This was definitely a tear jerking ballad kind of place. Not a place for delta blues.
He stepped onto the stage and turned to face the room. All the chairs at the tables were situated to face the stage. In fact, the whole room seemed to be arranged like an amphitheatre.
He hummed a few notes. The he sang a few lines. There were no echoes to be heard. Whoever arranged this room had optimal sound in mind.
He turned to look at the sound equipment. It was very high quality stuff. He probably wouldn't be able to afford it, even if he saved every penny for a year.
"Excuse me, might I ask what you are doing here?" a female voice inquired behind him.
Garrett turned and looked. A woman was sitting at the bar, holding a tumbler glass. She was wearing a very expensive lookingblue partydress, which accentuated her flawless ivory skin. Her eyes were a deep sapphire blue that held Garrett temporarily hostage. She had long, wavy, straw-colored hair that poured over her shoulders. She was stunningly beautiful.
What to say, what to say?
"Umm, I just came up to check the layout of the room, and the acoustics; I'm playing here tomorrow night. They told me it was okay," Garrett replied, not really knowing how he was supposed to reply.
She laughed pleasantly. "It's okay. I know why you're up here. After all, I approved it. Please continue with your peculiar sound check."
Garrett blushed slightly. "I was actually just about done. I take it you own this establishment?"
She nodded, still smiling.
"You seem really young to be the owner … umm, what I mean to say is, um, yeah."
Now he was really blushing. Just be cool, take a breath and relax.
Her eyebrows jumped briefly. "Well, daddy has a lot of money, you could say."
"Well I have to say you've got this place acoustically tuned almost perfectly, from what I can tell. You definitely have talent in that department."
He walked over and took a seat at the bar beside her. "I'm Garrett, by the way. Garrett Rainbird."
Upon closer examination, it wasn't hard to tell her true nature. She was a vampire, a Toreador by the look of her. It didn't, however, make him feel any less attracted to her.
He took her hand when she offered and kissed it, feeling very debonair.
"Lillian Ross. It's nice to meet someone who can fully appreciate what I've done here. Care for a drink?"
She pulled a bottle of scotch out from behind the bar. It looked old, really old. She took another tumbler and sat it in front of him.
"Aged one hundred years," she said as he began to pour himself a drink. Garrett stopped and looked at her, his eyes widening.
"It's okay, go ahead," she said, beginning to laugh again. "I've been waiting for a good reason to open it. Now I have one."
Garrett thought to himself that the bottle was probably worth more than a few grand, but he continued to pour, giving himself a healthy portion. He took a drink. Smooth as silk. Johnny Walker didn't have a thing on this. Hell, this was probably older than Johnny Walker himself.
They conversed for awhile longer, having two more glasses before she decided to put the bottle away.
"Have you been to the basement yet?" she asked as her foot rubbed up his shin.
"No, actually." Garrett could feel a heat rising in him and it wasn't just the scotch.
"You should check it out, it's a really nice little dance club if I do say so myself." She paused for a moment. "I'll meet you down there in a few. I'm hardly dressed for it. What do you say, Garrett?"
"It would be my pleasure, Ms. Ross."
Her eyes narrowed, but a grin formed at the corner of her mouth. "Please, call me Lillian. Ms. Ross makes me feel old."
Garrett's thoughts were in a flux by the time he stepped in the elevator. He had been told a long time ago by his mentor that all vampires were nothing but trouble, that they were evil and unnatural. He just never could quite take that one at face value. He had played in more than one vampire establishment after smoothing it over with the owners. He hardly ever had a problem out of them. They paid well and they were usually very polite. Sure, he'd had a few run-ins that weren't so pleasant, but so far that had been the exception, not the rule.
His mentor's voice spoke up inside his head. She only wants to manipulate you, to use you as a pawn in some game. Don't trust her. She will only bring your downfall.
It gave Garrett pause, but he wasn't always one to listen.
The elevator took him to the first floor and he walked downstairs into the basement. It was alive with young people, partying, drinking, and dancing. Techno music pumped through the speakers creating a carnal atmosphere throughout the room. Couples grinded against each other on the dance floor to the music; the sweat on their bodies glistened and refracted under the multicolored strobe lights.
Garrett smiled as he walked over to the bar. The bar itself had a peculiar layout. There was a canopy stretching from the wall and hanging about three feet out from the bar. It looked like it was supposed to offer shade or shelter from something. Maybe it serveda purpose, but it hardly went along with the raver décor.
He walked over to the bar and ordered a drink. And out of curiosity, he asked the bartender what the canopy was for.
"Wait until midnight and you'll see," she said with a wink.
Semi-satisfied with the answer, he leaned his back against the bar and looked out into the crowd. The dance floor was surrounded by tables and booths, nearly all of them filled.
A slender woman came walking up to the bar and took a seat beside Garrett. She looked over at him apathetically and turned, looking out at the crowd.
"She must really like you, you know," she said to Garrett. He looked over at her. She was dressed plainly in jeans and a leather jacket. She had a slight build, but she looked tough all the same. Probably a lot tougher than she looked, he thought, because this woman was no ordinary woman. She was kindred.
"Why do you say that?"
She looked back at him, this time taking him in. She gave him the brief up and down glance her eyes narrowed. "She's had that bottle for a long time and I have never seen her open it. You come along and she pops the top like it's a bottle of Jack Daniels."
Jesus, lady … what the hell am I supposed to say to that? I didn't twist her arm and make her open it. If I did, you would have likely twisted my head off.
"I'm Garrett, by the way," he said, trying to be polite. He offered a handshake; she ignored it.
"I already know who you are," she said, sounding annoyed. "I'm Thornn … I'm in charge of security."
Garrett decided to try to make conversation. She was a cold hard bitch, sure, but she was a cold hard bitch whose good side he would rather be on. "Is it always this packed on a Thursday night?"
She seemed to let her guard down a bit. "Yeah, pretty much. Most of them are college kids. But not those guys," she said, pointing in the direction of a table near the dance floor. There was a group of people gathered around it that hardly matched the rest of the scene. They all wore soiled looking leather jackets and looked unkempt, more so than the college kids. They didn't look like much, but looks could always be deceiving.
"Those guys are the Shatters; they're a local street gang. The guy right there," she pointed to a tall skinny guy facing them, "is Casper, their leader. They're cool though, not troublemakers … at least in here."
Without another word, she walked off. As she turned up the stairs, she looked back at Garrett. What appeared to be a pair of cat eyes gleamed back at him and then she continued up the stairs.
A few hours and a few drinks later, Lillian descended the staircase on the opposite side of the room, dressed in a white tank top and a pair of tight black jeans. Everyone watched her as she sauntered across the dance floor to the bar where Garrett was seated.
She came up to the bar and took the stool beside him. She looked out into the crowd of people, who had gone back to their own business and looked over at Garrett.
"So what do you think of the place so far?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
Without looking at her, Garrett cracked a smile. "This place is incredible," he said as he took a drink and met her gaze. "You have something for everybody here."
She glanced briefly at her watch and stood up. She took a few steps and turned back toward Garrett.
"Do you dance?" she asked.
He shot her a sly grin. "I can try," he said as he got up from his bar stool and took her hand.
She led him under the pulsing strobe lights onto the dance floor. The techno music pumped through the speakers as they grinded against one another, surrounded by a sea of people. Soon, the dance floor began to clear as they stepped back to watch Garrett and Lillian.
He wasn't really well versed on dance moves per say, but Garrett let his body move to the music and react to hers. Her eyes were locked on his as they moved together, slaves to the rhythm. He felt his heart beat quicken with every move, every touch of her hands. The seconds slowed down to hours as her hands ran up his back and down his chest.
Eventually, they were the only ones on the dance floor and everyone was watching. Garrett took no notice as he was caught up in the moment.
A buzzer sounded, signaling midnight. Black lights all over the club took over the atmosphere as the strobes subsided. Sprinklers on the ceiling turned on, sprinkling everything below with phosphorescent paint, which glowed brightly under the black lights. Now Garrett understood what the canopies over the bar were for.
He didn't care about his clothes being stained, he didn't care about the fact that he was dancing with a vampire; all he cared about was having a good time. They continued to dance and grind for what seemed like days.
Finally, Lillian led him off the dance floor and back to the bar. He began to look over his clothes, which were spattered in yellow, red and green paint.
"Don't worry about your clothes," she said, "the paints are all water soluble."
They sat at the bar and conversed for another hour or so before the last call went out. Garrett got up, thanked her for a fun evening and said good night. She told him she was looking forward to his performance tomorrow night and he had better knock everyone dead.
Garrett smiled at this and left the bar. He climbed on his motorcycle and headed out into the night, back to his hotel room. Sleep overtook him moments after he lay down in bed.