Disclaimer: I do not own, nor claim to own any characters pertaining to the 2007-2008 TV series 'Moonlight'. All recognisable characters and texts belong to Ron Koslow and Trevor Munson.
Author's Note: A thousand apologies, more than I can offer. This chapter serves as a filler, but it is the last one, I promise. My exams are over for the year, and I have a small break before I begin preparations for my last year of Uni. Teaching, here I come! I'm sorry if there are any visible errors. I could probably use a BETA, to be fair; someone should really give me a nudge every so often to remind me to get writing! Next chapter will be up by the end of the week, which is an interesting one, for sure. Thanks for sticking with lil ol' me! If anyone picks up on the Deadpool reference, I promise to write you in to the story.
Reviews will be taken out for a romantic stroll.
I need a drink.
Josef Kostan set his beady eyes level with my own, even though he had a good few inches against my petite 5'1. Two sensibilities warred with one another in my head; one fought to retain eye contact, persuading that it was best to appear tall and strong regardless of the notable height difference. The other begged to look away; so desperate was the pleading that somehow the vampire before me would know what I was and what I knew, I found myself digging my nails viciously in to the palm of my left hand.
Silly, uninformed little teenage crush.
There was nothing remotely enticing about the very real, very domineering Josef before me. I was afforded little more than a curt nod and a forced curling of the lips, but it was enough to beat a drum behind my ribcage. If they both noticed, which of course they did, neither of them afforded me the slightest indication. Perhaps that was considerably worse. I swallowed nervously, loosening and tightening the pressure on my palm with unnerving precision.
He appeared to gracefully spin on his shiny black shoes as he turned towards the door. "Think about what I said earlier." he paused in the doorway. "Come by with your answer. I have a much wider selection of refreshments than you appear to."
When he left, without so much as a proper goodbye (honestly, did they ever actually say farewell in the show?), it occurred to me that he had not introduced himself, nor asked my name. Not that he should have to; naturally the vampire's temperament centred around his severe distaste for anything 'human', unless they were stick thin and in provocative clothing, or he had a legitimate need to do business. I blinked, pinched the bridge of my nose and turned towards Mick, gingerly steadying myself on the chair the PI motioned to.
Mick was actually smiling.
"He's an old friend." He sat himself down, moving a few stray papers to a drawer. "Don't worry." I wanted to point out that the phrase 'old friend' probably was not the most accurate word to use, particularly as the age difference was more than noticeable to anyone with a brain cell.
"You wanted to talk about Kelly." The sooner the conversation was had, the faster I could retreat back home. I had every intention of keeping my head buried in my covers and not leaving until the episode was well and truly over – and then some. Chloe would die tomorrow night and despite the position of power my knowledge placed me in, there was nothing I could do to change that. Mick and Beth had a happy ending, or near enough – Josef didn't die, Sarah Whitley was still comatose, and Guillermo and Logan were perfectly capable of existing without my intervention.
"Yes – you said you knew her." I didn't sense Mick's disbelief, but I hastened to hide my own. The only confirmation I had that I had been anywhere near Christian's class was a single post-it note in my planner, and Chloe's observation that I had been incredibly 'kind'.
"I had a cover lesson once for Christian's assistant, Daniel. Not that I had to do much; I think with specialist subjects like the exclusive classes Christian runs, being an assistant teacher falls rather flat. They are all there to listen to Ellis – not some short, unpredictable Brit who doesn't understand how American football works." I grimaced slightly, though was fairly confident my misunderstanding came from a believable place. Mick chuckled. "Kelly and Chloe used to be best friends; Chloe even encouraged her to join Christian's classes."
"How did you know that?"
"Another part of being a teacher assistant, particularly at this level of education, is that you often fade in to the background even if you are helping students with their work. They talk over you, as if you aren't even there – and young influential girls are very fond of gossip." I moistened my lips gently, shifting my weight in the surprisingly comfortable chair. Was this the very same one Irene had sat in? "The two had a falling out, and after that things got particularly heated. Kelly filed a restraining order against her former friend, and shofar as I know, the two never spoke again."
He raised his eyebrows at that, seemingly pleasantly amused at the turn of events. Both he and Beth would soon find this out from multiple sources, so I didn't feel bad, nor did I feel any kind of misplaced guilt at giving the storyline a little nudge in the appropriate direction.
"A restraining order? Was there that much tension between the two at school?"
I shrugged, forgetting myself momentarily. It was easy and had to be some part of the enthralling vampire magnetism Mick exhibited that created an aura of calm impossible to resist. Stubbornly, I ground my teeth. "I wouldn't know – sorry." I offered a weak smile; painfully aware my heart was giving away so much more of my nervousness than I was comfortable with. "I only heard what I know through other students. The girls liked to talk about the falling out as if it were some big spectacle. The restraining order was filed by campus police, and Chloe stopped coming to school after that. At least," I added hurriedly, racking my brain to try and remember if anything was misplaced, "I never saw her around after that. She made a show of blaming Christian once after school hours, but nothing came of that, either."
Mick adjusted himself, and I scrutinised him carefully. He was impossible to read. "The Professor has quite the harem." He spoke with a lightened air of bemusement. I would have laughed too, of course, had the idea not been so revolting.
"I'm sure his wife is positively thrilled to take a backseat with her husband's illicit affairs." I could not hide the disdain; it dripped thickly from my tongue as I spoke. He was slimy, cocky and far too full of himself. All three went hand-in-hand – it was impossible to settle on any particular one for him, however. "Try and speak to him. He has an infuriatingly particular way with words, but he also isn't used to anyone standing up to him. He also thinks he's a vampire, if that helps." As I said the words I watched Mick carefully, more so than I had been doing. He betrayed nothing but a natural flicker of amusement. "For what it's worth," I added slowly, "I'm not sure he would have the time to kill anyone. He's an arrogant sod, but he's also a coward." Nobody ever stood up to him, so he walked around acting as if he had control of everything and everyone purely based on that alone. The fact that girls fell at his feet was in large part due to his hypnotising way with words; preying on the weaknesses the young, vulnerable girls who were desperate for approval who then gave themselves to anyone who offered them the time and care.
Mick, however, appeared to have taken it all in without so much as scribbling a single word on to a scrap of paper. It was not the first time I had been alone in such closed quarters with the vampire, but the practice steadily eroded the nervousness I felt. Despite this, the paranoia was strong in the back of my mind and would soon spread defiantly like damp unless I found a way to be complacent with my new living arrangements. Additionally, discovering how I had ended up with my lungs full of dirty water and understandably dead was an increasing concern, one that I knew Mick would take it upon himself to uncover had he not already done so as soon as he had the time.
I did not want to go home after leaving Mick's apartment, but I had little elsewhere to venture. Beth was off on her little investigative journalism to Christian's class, Mick would later visit the Professor, and tomorrow night everything would change for them both – and I had to stay away from it. I wandered for a bit, familiarising myself with the sights and streets that branched between the PI's place and my own; a mere twenty-minute walk if I paced myself, and I had an obtuse feeling that I would be a frequent visitor to the complex. Something stirred unhelpfully in the pit of my stomach, and I furiously dug my hand in to the depths of my bag to forage for change. I did not particularly want to eat, but the necessity was there.
As I continued my walk, bacon wrap in hand, I passed a bookstore. It was not something that easily stood out in the row of brick buildings, bustling with customers and pedestrians alike; the paint had chipped away to reveal the startling red beneath and the sign that hung precariously above the store creaked, audible only if you stood directly beneath it. The sounds of the traffic numbed out the rest, and the lights that flashed and bleeped routinely as people crossed the road distracted from the tiny store. Still, it was less the store itself, and instead the poster stuck on the inside of the window that caught my attention – and the woman balancing several hard copies on the far side of the glass.
Wronged Man
The true story of Lee Jay Spaulding, as told by Julia Stephens.
A lump solidly formed in my stomach. Very suddenly, the bacon wrap became ashes in my mouth and I folded the paper bag around it; without even looking, I dropped the food in to a bin on the corner of the street before uneasily moving towards the poster. Julia was still talking away to a shop assistant. I did not know whether to scream or run away, or just gently approach her and compliment her on her bravery. Being engaged in such an intense conversation would have given everything away, however, and already I was doing a poor job of covering up just who I was staring at.
His eyes on the cover were haunting, yet they did not betray his innocence. He was an expert speaker, liar, and all around diligent professional at getting precisely what he wanted. He was positively basking in the glory on being on the front cover of a book, and not because it was a huge accomplishment, not even because it was his ticket out of jail – but because Mick would see, Mick would be furious, and Lee Jay knew that. I did not want to be a part of that particular storyline, but I was deftly worried that if I did not keep a close eye Beth would not uncover the truth about the enigmatic PI, and goodness knows what would occur should that not occur.
"Are you interested in the book?" Julia was incredibly bright-eyed for someone publicly defending a known criminal. She seemed both proud and equally as desperate to speak to anyone who showed the slightest interest in the biography, determined to show just one more person he was more than the media made him out to be. Nodding, aware that only part of me was lying, I turned properly towards her. People pushed past on the small pavement, so with natural instinct the two of us huddled closer to the window.
So much for keeping away from things. "He is rather fascinating," I offered; to her delight, my words brought an impossibly natural smile. The stress immediately began to melt away and I just as instantly felt sorry for her. She had so little idea what this man truly wanted, and it was painful to watch her vagrant enthusiasm. "Did you write this?"
Julia nodded, still smiling. "The book launch is in two weeks, just as he's getting released. I can't wait to show people what this man is really like; he's set up a program to help kids who are at risk become involved in art as a way to channel their frustrations. It's incredible." And also, a ruse, I thought, grimacing as I swallowed. "I'm trying to make sure all the local bookstores have these posters up. People need to know the truth about him." I peered at the pile in her arms, surprised to see they were not copies of the aforementioned book, but flyers stacked on top of a fair few titles I did not recognise. Books on art? Self-awareness? He'd use them as toilet paper.
"I'll definitely give it a read when it comes out." Once again, my words held little evidence of a lie. I would most likely read it, and what fan would not? I had to have been here for a reason, and even if it were an incredible coincidence, I could easily make the most of opportunities given so long as they did not pose any threat to myself or the characters. There was no real benefit from doing so, aside from personal indulgement.
That, however, afforded me brownie points. Julia fished around in her own bag before producing a flimsy white ticket with golden writing sprawled across in cursive script. "Here, there's two. Please come along. It will be so nice for Lee Jay to see all the support when he gets out of prison." I held the tickets with nervous uncertainty; not entirely convinced I was cut out for this, I safely deposited them in my bag.
"Thank you – of course I will be there. I really appreciate the tickets." I was curious as to why she had handed them out to a random stranger, but she continued to talk passionately about support and how important it was that people did not believe everything they both saw and read in papers and how utterly innocent he was. I could not openly disagree, of course – I was not confident I would attend the book launch, but if I did, I needed to at least appear supportive, and steer clear of the drama that would ensue.
Julia lightly squeezed my arm before saying goodbye, and I was left standing awkwardly not knowing precisely which direction to take next. It was particularly foolish to think characters existed only when their staple episode was taking place; Julia would be all over the city and the news in the upcoming weeks, and Beth only just remembered they were friends as it were convenient?
Well, I thought, straightening myself as I headed towards home, that's just lazy writing.