SERIOUSLY, ALWAYS YOUNG AND BEAUTIFUL by Randall Morgan -- CHAPTER ONE
Here is the first chapter. I hope you enjoy it. Still shaking off the rust. Remember this is for adults only, no one under the age of eighteen should open. The icon of Brian and Cynthia is by Heather.
ONE: Brian’s POV
Ryder walks into my office at the agency without warning. He’s flashing a shit-eating grin that tells me one thing and one thing only: he’s about to fuck me without lube. Figuratively speaking. I lean back and pick up the green koosh ball on my desk, squeezing it in my fist as if it were his stupid, oblong skull.
“How’s your day going, buddy?” He sits down across from my desk. Buddy? Koosh, koosh, koosh, the little rubber spikes are soft against my palm.
“Good until now. Why?”
“I’m giving you a very exciting new account. I think you’re the right age and have the right vision to make a success of this campaign.”
Koosh, slam! I put the spiky ball on my desk. “Don’t blow sunshine up my dark pipe, Ryder. This is something you don’t want to fuck with so you’re handing off a steamy pile to me. I know how it works.”
“I honestly think you’ll like this, Brian. After all, you like to hang out at clubs, I understand.”
“Clubs? You mean like the Copacabana or something? The Masonic Lodge?”
He leans towards my desk and says in a hushed voice, “You and I both know I mean those gay bars on Liberty Avenue.”
“Really? Have I seen you there?”
He looks like I stuck a big one in him as he gasps. “I’m not gay.”
“Are you sure?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I shrug, enjoying his sweat. “You seem pretty familiar with the scene.”
“I…shut up, Brian. You’re not funny. This is a new client, who has become very successful now that vampires are now out in the open.”
Apparently the invention of a synthetic bottled blood drink called Tru Blood has ended the vampires’ dependency on human cocktails. The undead night crawlers have crept out of their caskets, asking to become part of our society, insisting they should no longer be viewed as a threat. All the fiction, movies, and legends we grew up with are nothing more than spook stories, the newly outed vampires assure us. They are just like humans, only paler and living on blood, like bloated bats. I added that last part.
Excuse me if I’m skeptical. They subsisted on human blood before this invention of Tru Blood, didn’t they? What about that? Did someone declare a vampire amnesty program? At first I thought the breaking news of real vampires living among us was a media joke. Now that it’s been confirmed, I don’t know what to think. I’m not alone in that. Most humans still feel a little nervous to realize we walk among vampires. At night, anyway. “What does the vampire outing have to do with us? Tru Blood manufacturer looking for an agency?”
“No, why advertise that product? Those who need it have no alternative, and those who don’t are not going to be convinced to taste some bloody abomination in a bottle. No, this man owns a string of successful clubs in Louisiana and Texas that cater to vampires. Apparently there are humans who enjoy being in their presence who also frequent these clubs. He’s putting together a package to start a franchise, called, this is cute, ‘Fangtasia’. He realizes there is still a lot of fear and suspicion towards vampires in mainstream society and he thinks this is a good way to de-mystify his culture.”
“He told you that? You talked to a vampire?”
“No, his representative told me that. Although I suppose she could be a vampire, how would I know? There’s a distinct parallel between your culture and the vampires, Brian.”
“I have a culture?”
“I mean the gay culture, of course. Gays are also feared and ostracized by mainstream society, for the most part. You have your clubs where you can gather, and so do they, the vampires. They want to be accepted as do your friends.”
I stare at him and I can barely keep lunch down. “Are you really comparing gays to vampires, Ryder?”
“I’m merely drawing a parallel.”
“There is no parallel and ‘my friends’ as you put it could not care less if you accept them or not. Last I heard, gays weren’t feeding off humans, for centuries, and scaring the shit out of people, and then killing them. Oh yeah, I forgot. That’s all a big spook story, not the truth.”
“Well, AIDS is pretty scary, Brian.”
“And we are stopping here if you’re going to lay the whole AIDS crisis on us.”
“Okay, okay, not trying to ruffle your plumes. So, I want you to go down to Louisiana and meet with Mr. Northman and his associates and get an understanding of the project and their vision for it. Then come back and put a campaign together.”
“You’re sending me into a nest of vampires?”
“I’m sending you to meet a client,” he slid some photographs towards me. “Just a few images of one of his clubs. He’s the man in black sitting on that throne chair.”
I raise a brow as I inspect the man on the throne. Holy shit. He’s big and blond and drop-dead gorgeous. Or maybe drop-undead gorgeous is more like it. His hair is long and his body is strong and lean under dark denim and black leather. He has a deeply clefted chin and skin as white and perfect as polished ivory. His eyes are very blue, very penetrating, very interesting. If vampires look like this, not like Nosferatu, they should have come out of their caskets long ago. I must be in a blond phase. My little blond stalker, Justin, is still on my mind, and now this one. Do vampires have sex? Are vampires gay?
“Handsome, isn’t he?” Ryder said with a smirk, ruining the moment for me. I push the photos away. I won’t give him the satisfaction.
“So when do I go?”
“Now. Go home and throw some clothes in a bag because you’re booked on a 3:30 flight. Cynthia has all the details.”
“It’s possible I have plans for tonight, you know?”
“Work trumps fun.”
“Where am I going?”
“Louisiana.”
“New Orleans?” I ask with hope in my heart. I’ve been to Southern Decadence, a big gay annual celebration there, and it’s a great party and a great party town, gay welcoming not just gay friendly.
“No, Shreveport.”
I moan. It’s closer to the border with Texas than it is to New Orleans. The town is more redneck than laid-back Louisianan. I don’t want to go to Shreveport. “Why can’t Rogers handle this one?”
“Rogers doesn’t have your, you know, your…”
I raise an eyebrow and let him twist. “My what?”
“Your sophistication.”
“Good save. Okay, I’ll pack my crucifix and my holy water and strands of garlic and head south. If I don’t come back, it’s on you.”
“Vampires are people too, Brian. You of all of us should be more tolerant.”
“Why? Because I’m queer? That’s only made me more suspicious.”
“You’d better get moving. Check in with us.”
“I’ll call you from the crypt.”
I leave the office after stopping at Cynthia’s desk to pick up my tickets and the information on my hotel. When I get to the loft, I retrieve my Tumi roll aboard and start throwing in the essentials. What do I wear to a meeting with a vampire? Red comes to mind and I select my wine red dress shirt and matching tie. It will wear well with my grey suit. At the last minute I throw in a pair of jeans, a black wifebeater and a denim shirt, just in case I have any free time to find a real bar. I leave the loft and take the elevator down to the limo waiting to take me to the airport.
In the limo, I call Michael on my cell. He answers and I can hear the jabber and noise of the big box store where he works blaring in the background. “I can’t go to Babylon tonight.”
“Why not?” There’s a whine in his voice. “You’ll miss the drag show.”
“Work, I’m headed for the airport now.”
“To go where?”
“Louisiana.”
“Why? It’ll be so hot there this time of year.”
“I have a meeting with a vampire,” I say with a smile and just as I expected, Michael goes nuts on me. As a comic book geek of the highest (lowest?) order, he has raved incessantly about the threat of vampires ever since the news broke. His vampire threat is based on all of the horror comics and movies he’s devoured. He has theories on where they came from, how they survived in hiding, how to kill them, how to ward them off. Ted and Emmett and I have sworn an oath that we would never mention the “V” word around Michael. This is why. After his tirade dwindles down, he says,
“You can’t go, Brian. You don’t’ get how dangerous they are. You may never come back.”
“If I don’t, you can have the jeep.”
“It’s not funny.”
“Yes it is,” I say with a laugh and tell him goodbye as I watch Pittsburgh through the tinted windows and bid it, too, a silent farewell.
ONE: Brian’s POV
Ryder walks into my office at the agency without warning. He’s flashing a shit-eating grin that tells me one thing and one thing only: he’s about to fuck me without lube. Figuratively speaking. I lean back and pick up the green koosh ball on my desk, squeezing it in my fist as if it were his stupid, oblong skull.
“How’s your day going, buddy?” He sits down across from my desk. Buddy? Koosh, koosh, koosh, the little rubber spikes are soft against my palm.
“Good until now. Why?”
“I’m giving you a very exciting new account. I think you’re the right age and have the right vision to make a success of this campaign.”
Koosh, slam! I put the spiky ball on my desk. “Don’t blow sunshine up my dark pipe, Ryder. This is something you don’t want to fuck with so you’re handing off a steamy pile to me. I know how it works.”
“I honestly think you’ll like this, Brian. After all, you like to hang out at clubs, I understand.”
“Clubs? You mean like the Copacabana or something? The Masonic Lodge?”
He leans towards my desk and says in a hushed voice, “You and I both know I mean those gay bars on Liberty Avenue.”
“Really? Have I seen you there?”
He looks like I stuck a big one in him as he gasps. “I’m not gay.”
“Are you sure?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I shrug, enjoying his sweat. “You seem pretty familiar with the scene.”
“I…shut up, Brian. You’re not funny. This is a new client, who has become very successful now that vampires are now out in the open.”
Apparently the invention of a synthetic bottled blood drink called Tru Blood has ended the vampires’ dependency on human cocktails. The undead night crawlers have crept out of their caskets, asking to become part of our society, insisting they should no longer be viewed as a threat. All the fiction, movies, and legends we grew up with are nothing more than spook stories, the newly outed vampires assure us. They are just like humans, only paler and living on blood, like bloated bats. I added that last part.
Excuse me if I’m skeptical. They subsisted on human blood before this invention of Tru Blood, didn’t they? What about that? Did someone declare a vampire amnesty program? At first I thought the breaking news of real vampires living among us was a media joke. Now that it’s been confirmed, I don’t know what to think. I’m not alone in that. Most humans still feel a little nervous to realize we walk among vampires. At night, anyway. “What does the vampire outing have to do with us? Tru Blood manufacturer looking for an agency?”
“No, why advertise that product? Those who need it have no alternative, and those who don’t are not going to be convinced to taste some bloody abomination in a bottle. No, this man owns a string of successful clubs in Louisiana and Texas that cater to vampires. Apparently there are humans who enjoy being in their presence who also frequent these clubs. He’s putting together a package to start a franchise, called, this is cute, ‘Fangtasia’. He realizes there is still a lot of fear and suspicion towards vampires in mainstream society and he thinks this is a good way to de-mystify his culture.”
“He told you that? You talked to a vampire?”
“No, his representative told me that. Although I suppose she could be a vampire, how would I know? There’s a distinct parallel between your culture and the vampires, Brian.”
“I have a culture?”
“I mean the gay culture, of course. Gays are also feared and ostracized by mainstream society, for the most part. You have your clubs where you can gather, and so do they, the vampires. They want to be accepted as do your friends.”
I stare at him and I can barely keep lunch down. “Are you really comparing gays to vampires, Ryder?”
“I’m merely drawing a parallel.”
“There is no parallel and ‘my friends’ as you put it could not care less if you accept them or not. Last I heard, gays weren’t feeding off humans, for centuries, and scaring the shit out of people, and then killing them. Oh yeah, I forgot. That’s all a big spook story, not the truth.”
“Well, AIDS is pretty scary, Brian.”
“And we are stopping here if you’re going to lay the whole AIDS crisis on us.”
“Okay, okay, not trying to ruffle your plumes. So, I want you to go down to Louisiana and meet with Mr. Northman and his associates and get an understanding of the project and their vision for it. Then come back and put a campaign together.”
“You’re sending me into a nest of vampires?”
“I’m sending you to meet a client,” he slid some photographs towards me. “Just a few images of one of his clubs. He’s the man in black sitting on that throne chair.”
I raise a brow as I inspect the man on the throne. Holy shit. He’s big and blond and drop-dead gorgeous. Or maybe drop-undead gorgeous is more like it. His hair is long and his body is strong and lean under dark denim and black leather. He has a deeply clefted chin and skin as white and perfect as polished ivory. His eyes are very blue, very penetrating, very interesting. If vampires look like this, not like Nosferatu, they should have come out of their caskets long ago. I must be in a blond phase. My little blond stalker, Justin, is still on my mind, and now this one. Do vampires have sex? Are vampires gay?
“Handsome, isn’t he?” Ryder said with a smirk, ruining the moment for me. I push the photos away. I won’t give him the satisfaction.
“So when do I go?”
“Now. Go home and throw some clothes in a bag because you’re booked on a 3:30 flight. Cynthia has all the details.”
“It’s possible I have plans for tonight, you know?”
“Work trumps fun.”
“Where am I going?”
“Louisiana.”
“New Orleans?” I ask with hope in my heart. I’ve been to Southern Decadence, a big gay annual celebration there, and it’s a great party and a great party town, gay welcoming not just gay friendly.
“No, Shreveport.”
I moan. It’s closer to the border with Texas than it is to New Orleans. The town is more redneck than laid-back Louisianan. I don’t want to go to Shreveport. “Why can’t Rogers handle this one?”
“Rogers doesn’t have your, you know, your…”
I raise an eyebrow and let him twist. “My what?”
“Your sophistication.”
“Good save. Okay, I’ll pack my crucifix and my holy water and strands of garlic and head south. If I don’t come back, it’s on you.”
“Vampires are people too, Brian. You of all of us should be more tolerant.”
“Why? Because I’m queer? That’s only made me more suspicious.”
“You’d better get moving. Check in with us.”
“I’ll call you from the crypt.”
I leave the office after stopping at Cynthia’s desk to pick up my tickets and the information on my hotel. When I get to the loft, I retrieve my Tumi roll aboard and start throwing in the essentials. What do I wear to a meeting with a vampire? Red comes to mind and I select my wine red dress shirt and matching tie. It will wear well with my grey suit. At the last minute I throw in a pair of jeans, a black wifebeater and a denim shirt, just in case I have any free time to find a real bar. I leave the loft and take the elevator down to the limo waiting to take me to the airport.
In the limo, I call Michael on my cell. He answers and I can hear the jabber and noise of the big box store where he works blaring in the background. “I can’t go to Babylon tonight.”
“Why not?” There’s a whine in his voice. “You’ll miss the drag show.”
“Work, I’m headed for the airport now.”
“To go where?”
“Louisiana.”
“Why? It’ll be so hot there this time of year.”
“I have a meeting with a vampire,” I say with a smile and just as I expected, Michael goes nuts on me. As a comic book geek of the highest (lowest?) order, he has raved incessantly about the threat of vampires ever since the news broke. His vampire threat is based on all of the horror comics and movies he’s devoured. He has theories on where they came from, how they survived in hiding, how to kill them, how to ward them off. Ted and Emmett and I have sworn an oath that we would never mention the “V” word around Michael. This is why. After his tirade dwindles down, he says,
“You can’t go, Brian. You don’t’ get how dangerous they are. You may never come back.”
“If I don’t, you can have the jeep.”
“It’s not funny.”
“Yes it is,” I say with a laugh and tell him goodbye as I watch Pittsburgh through the tinted windows and bid it, too, a silent farewell.