Musings of a Postmodern Vampire

by P. J. Day

  “What’s your cell number, Jack? Also, I need yours too, Ted... I’ll text you our numbers so we can meet up an hour before our meeting tomorrow,” asked Alan, as he fidgeted with his phone.

  “We have your phone numbers. It’s okay, they are in Rald’s email attachment,” I said.

  “Are you sure you guys don’t want to hang out a little longer tonight?” asked Rebecca, as she made prolonged eye contact with Ted.

  “Tempting, but I need to get Jack to his room. We need him sharp for tomorrow. Maybe after the meeting?”

  Rebecca put her drink down and crossed her arms. It was pretty obvious she wanted to hang out with us—and especially with Ted—tonight. Something told me that Ted was torn about letting a potentially crazy night slip away.

  “Alan... Rebecca, it was nice meeting you,” I said, slightly panting.

  I looked over at Alan. “I’ll call you as soon as I wake up so we can go over any further briefings before our meeting.”

  “Sounds good, take care and have a good night,” said Alan.

  Ted smiled, nodded and patted me on the shoulder as we turned around and exited the restaurant. As we passed the bar, all the British businessmen that were cackling like a pack of howler monkeys were gone; except for one, who was passing out on his stool. The bartender had an unsure look on his face, probably contemplating whether or not he should get his manager to call a cab for his tipsy client. We then walked past the cute hostess.

  “Good night,” I said.

  “Have a good evening, gentlemen,” she said, with her head down, making notes on the patrons’ seating chart. Not even a smile or eye contact. It’s probably because I look like shit.

  We waited on the curb outside the restaurant, trying to wave down a cab to get us back to the hotel.

  “Jack, we need to get you some fresh blood tonight... where do you want to go?”

  “I’ll be fine. I probably have two good days left before the magnesium overwhelms my bloodstream. My hair won’t even start to fall out for at least three more days.”

  All the cabs that passed us by had guests in their backseats. We were in a busy part of town. Many restaurants, clubs, and tea houses surrounded the area.

  “Let’s just keep walking. Maybe we’ll find a cab a little quicker this way,” I said to Ted.

  “I am nervous about this whole deal. You are the charmer of our group, Jack. If you are not one hundred percent, these guys might catch on to what we are trying to do.”

  “I don’t know. I wonder if there is a morgue around here. What do you think?” I looked at Ted, fishing for a possible solution. “I don’t think the hookers in this part of town would want their necks drained for a couple extra bucks. There is nothing we can do Ted. I’ll manage.”

  Ted’s nervous energy was beginning to make me question my own sanity and ability to keep up the charade for the company I work for.

  “Listen, Jack. Let’s go out. You still look good. Who knows, you may get lucky and give a good-looking girl a stronger than average hickey,” pleaded Ted, as a light drizzle began to fall on us while we remained on the lookout for a cab.

  “Fine, but you need to be the best possible wingman tonight... the best!” I told Ted, as I grabbed him by his shoulder, making it a point to make eye contact.

  “You build me up as usual... you find me the freakiest girl you can possibly find on the dance floor or at the bar and you let me do the rest.”

  Chapter Twelve

  It was 10:00 p.m. by the time we were able to hail a cab.

  This time, instead of being inside a nice, brand-new, eco-friendly car, we were inside a beat-up old Taurus. You know, the one you would see on the road all the time, 15 years ago, that was as common as your standard marsupial roadkill, but uglier.

  “Good evening, sir,” said Ted to the cab driver.

  “Call me Chang,” said the cab driver in a gravelly voice.

  We slowly climbed into the taxi, making sure not an inch of our shoes touched the gutter, which was being quickly filled with rainwater. I could hear the rain starting to pound the roof of the car.

  We settled uncomfortably in our seats; the cab driver turned around and looked at us. One of his eyes was completely white, probably due to untreated cataracts, his breath smelled like a combination of Tide detergent and Armor-all. His goatee was kind of cool, though. It reminded me of that old Chinese shopkeeper who sold Gizmo to that poor unsuspecting family in Gremlins.

  “Mr. Chang?” asked Ted.

  “Chang! No need to call me Mr., I drive you around, that is all. I won’t teach math,” said the cab driver with a light chuckle. His English was broken but charming and coherent.

  “Chang, we are men with fine tastes, but we need to find a place that is on the wild side but classy,” asked Ted.

  “No problem. I know the right place for you gentlemen.” Chang put a little more pressure on the gas pedal, snapping our heads back ever so slightly.

  Ted and I sat in the back seat. The old leather seating had dried cracks that were slightly pricking our bottoms. I was still feeling a bit woozy. Ted looked concerned.

  “Jack, how about you take a bite out of me? I know it’s weird, but this is kind of an emergency,” Ted kept his voice just above a whisper.

  “Thanks, but no. Look, we’re not in the middle of a jungle or some God-forsaken desert without a drop of blood for weeks. I’ll manage. I don’t put my mouth anywhere near my friends’ necks, and especially the male variety,” I told Ted, as Chang looked into his rear-view mirror and smiled.

  “I’m just looking out for you. I don’t want to see you shrivel up like an undead raisin—wait, that would make you a grape... but grapes aren’t shriveled up, so that—ah geez, I need a drink,” said Ted, as he put his head on his lap, trying to comfort himself from the stress.

  Chang made an abrupt stop. He turned around and looked at us with his unsavory face. He pointed outside to a large man standing by a door.

  “Okay gentlemen, here is the place. See that big gorilla by the door? Go up to him and use words: jewels by night. He will let you in.”

  “Is this place any good? I mean, it doesn’t look as refined as I thought it was going to be,” asked Ted, giving me a worried look

  “Ted, I trust Chang on his recommendation.” I looked Ted straight into his eyes, giving him slight reassurance.

  “Chang, so do you think a couple of dudes like us will like this place?” I asked.

  “Oh, yes!” replied Chang, with a mischievous grin.

  It was do or die by this point, to the land of no return. Our trust was placed in the hands of an old Chinese cab driver who we barely met 10 minutes ago.

  I paid Chang double the fare for asking no questions and being an all-around swell guy, despite his piratic appearance.

  We both walked up to the doorman. He was standing in front of a well-worn, wooden, blue door with a single fluorescent light fixture that gave the doorman’s face an ominous noire-like look.

  The door and this building stood out like a sore thumb in the midst of all the modern-looking buildings surrounding it. Here was this old single-story building with wooden panels, ravaged by termites and what seemed like mold, smack dab in the middle of banks and office buildings adorned with pristine glass, and radiant chrome molding.

  The bouncer’s broad shoulders, facial tattoo, and darker complexion gave me the impression that he was Polynesian, most likely Maori. He was built like a house, probably an ex-nose tackle or professional rugby player at some point in his life, judging by the ruby-studded ring adorned with microscopic golden footballs that he had somehow squeezed tightly onto one of his massive fingers.

  “May I help you gentlemen?” said the doorman, with a hint of pidgin.

  “Jewels by night,” Ted told the doorman, with an overt confidence, his smug smile having no effect on the doorman’s continued lack of facial expression.

  There was an awkward silence. Ted and I looked at each other and then looked back at
the bouncer.

  “Oh... here...” Ted grabbed a twenty-dollar bill from his coat pocket and gave it to the doorman. The doorman smiled and said, “Right this way, gentlemen.”

  Beyond the door was a single lift that seemed to only go one way and that was down.

  “Before I take you down, you’re not police, are you?”

  “Umm... no. Do they employ Caucasian police in Hong Kong?” I asked.

  “Are you politicians? Diplomats?” asked the doorman.

  What kind of establishment was this? I thought. They don’t like police? Then he asked if we were politicians or diplomats? I should have answered yes. Maybe there was a VIP room.

  “No. We are Americans looking for a great time and this place was recommended by some taxi driver named Chang,” Ted replied.

  “Chang recommended you? Okay, my name is Anewa. If you need anything, just let me know.”

  Anewa pressed the only button on the lift panel that wasn’t a red one. The muffled music we heard as we entered the building began to play louder as we descended.

  “Are you okay, sir? You look very pale,” said Anewa.

  “Yes... yes... I am fine. Long flight,” I said with a smile.

  The lighting on the lift was not of the flattering variety yet again. I really need to stay away from lighting that makes me look like some pasty bog ghost, or maybe it’s about time I reconsider putting on some foundation. Cassie has always playfully applied some of her foundation on me whenever I would pay her the occasional visit. I won’t lie, it looked pretty good on me, but I really don’t want any of it to get on the edge of my collars. That possibility always makes me a bit paranoid. I’d rather be self-conscious about my pale complexion than worry about how someone is going to perceive me for wearing a little bit of makeup.

  “Gentlemen,” said Anewa, as he opened the lift door and stretched out his arm, leading us out into the club.

  The club was dimly lit, with candle fixtures adorning multiple pillars. Two dozen round tables with white linens surrounded a bar. The patrons were all male. Each one of them had one or two extremely attractive women sitting either on their laps or right beside them. This was exactly the place we were looking for, a perfect mix of classiness and camouflaged debauchery.

  In one corner of the room was a stage. A gorgeous Asian woman in a blue satin dress, fishnets, and a beehive hair-do was singing Edith Piaf in Cantonese. She had a quartet accompanying her. The patrons were allowed to hoot and holler during the performance, which led me to believe that this was a lounge act of the participatory kind.

  “Jack, these women are absolutely gorgeous!”

  “Yeah, you’re right. Going by first impressions, my wallet may be the only wingman I need.”

  “Hello, gentlemen. May I have your names, please,” said the busty, raspy-voiced cocktail waitress, with green-tinted contacts.

  “Theodore and Jack,” I said, winking at Ted.

  “Welcome. Ted and Jack, follow me this way.”

  She led us to an empty table at the edge of the stage. We took our jackets off and set them on the backs of our respective chairs.

  “What may I get you to drink?”

  “I’ll have a martini... very dry, please,” I said.

  “And I’ll have a gin and tonic with lemon,” said Ted, as he scouted his new-found territory.

  “You see anyone you would like to chat with, gentlemen?”

  “All of them!” said Ted, as we both gave a little chuckle like two twelve-year-old boys discovering our father’s Playboy collection behind the woodshed.

  The waitress took our order and left for the bar. The singer in the blue dress gave us both a wink as she finished her set. She bowed as many in the small crowd gave her a loud ovation.

  “She must be pretty popular,” I said.

  “Well, she did a pretty good job... Hey, let me see your eyes,” asked Ted.

  I lifted my sunglasses as Ted peered closer at my face. I felt like I was being examined by a drunken optometrist.

  “Yup, still dilated... how you feeling?”

  “Honestly, a little better. My skin doesn’t feel like it’s rapidly drying up like it did at the restaurant. I feel almost normal,” I said, as the waitress came over and gave us our drinks.

  As soon as we both began to take a sip of our first drinks, a dapper, thin-framed man with a white tuxedo and a red bow tie took the stage. His salt-and-pepper hair added to his air of predetermined sophistication. There was something oddly feminine about him, though; maybe it was his eyes.

  “Hello, gentlemen. Now is the time to bid for your favorite! Which one of these ladies do you think is worthy of your time tonight? Once they walk off this stage and into your arms tonight, anything goes! Treat them like princesses and you shall be treated like kings!”

  Ted and I looked at each other and laughed at the slightly awkward presentation.

  “Kind of creepy, don’t you think?” asked Ted.

  “A lot of buildup and pageantry just to get close and personal with a lady of the night,” I said.

  “When in Rome,” said Ted.

  The first girl entered stage left. The first thing I noticed about her was how strong and muscular her legs looked. She was extremely attractive in an athletic sort of way. Her ass popped out like the seed of a half-cut avocado. Her skin-tight black dress that cut off at her thighs elongated her tall frame.

  “Jamie Lin comes all the way from Beijing. She loves to talk about international politics, and give the best thigh massages this side of the Yangtze. Bidding starts at one hundred dollars... do I hear one twenty-five?” said the minute presenter, as he took bids from the finely dressed gentlemen at the tables.

  “Her thighs look like they could tear a phone book in half. I mean she has a beautiful face and all, but I am not much for breast implants,” said Ted, as he continued to observe Jamie like a butcher eying a below-average cut of rib eye.

  “I think she is very pretty. Yes, she might work out harder than most call girls I have seen. She is just trying to improve her stock in a crowded marketplace.”

  “Do I hear two-fifty? Two twenty-five going once... going twice... to the Italian-looking man in the fedora and pencil mustache... she is yours!” Jamie’s smile radiated across the entire room. She elegantly made her way down the stage to her new fiscal suitor. The men around us were clapping like she won a pageant or some sort of prize in an office raffle. There certainly was nothing discreet about this house of ill repute.

  “Next up is Jenny Mah; she comes all the way from Bangkok! She loves fine Chardonnay, Shakespeare, and men with big hands! Her beautiful sequin yellow dress gives her an air of sophistication and a flair for adventure. Bidding starts at one hundred dollars!”

  Jenny stood at the stage smiling and doing her best Miss Universe pose with one hand on her hip and her right kneecap slightly bent forward.

  “Do I hear one-fifty?”

  A couple of minutes passed and no one was bidding for poor Jenny. She was beautiful and very young, probably not a day over 19. I certainly thought she was more attractive than Jamie. I guess standards around here are a little more fickle than I thought. Oh, what the hell.

  “One-fifty!” I said, as I stood up and then proceeded to meekly sit down; I felt the stares of every crotchety lecher in the room.

  “One-fifty to the well-dressed gentleman with the pale complexion in the front! Do I hear $200?”

  Jenny’s somber look quickly made way to a radiant smile that lasered straight through to my eyes.

  “Awww, you’ve made her quite happy,” Ted joked.

  “Don’t you find it kind of strange that someone this hot and young isn’t being bid on with a fury?” I asked.

  “Different pokes for different blokes.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “I don’t know; I’m drunk!” Ted whistled loudly, without a hint of context.

  It was pretty evident that the chances of Jenny ending up in my arm
s tonight were quite high. The entire room was silent and poor Jenny was not going to end up with a pocket full of change on this night. Selfishly speaking, this was a great opportunity for her to add a new service to her portfolio.

  “Going once... going twice... sold to the well-dressed gentleman in desperate need of a tan! Jenny, baby, for the love of God, flush some color into this man, please!”

  Jenny made her way down to our table. Her smile was very contagious, and I couldn’t believe how much of a bargain she was. She gently pulled up the bottom of her dress and sat her warm, firm tush on my legs.

  “Hello gentleman,” she said, with a smooth, silky voice.

  “Sorry about the lack of participation from the other patrons,” I said.

  “Don’t worry. I have a reputation for being somewhat hard to handle,” Jenny said with a demure giggle.

  I put my hand on her shoulder. Ted quickly looked away from the both of us and glanced toward the stage, hoping for just the right girl to show up on stage.

  “Hey, Jenny, so... who do you recommend I aggressively bid on?” asked Ted.

  “Lucy Lee from Korea. She likes your type,” said Jenny, quickly turning her attention toward me.

  “What’s my type?” asked Ted.

  “You know, the bushy-fun type.”

  “Do I look bushy to you, Jack?” Ted asked, with his voice slightly slurring.

  “Ted, just take it as a compliment.”

  Jenny began to slowly use her hand to caress my hair, twirling the tips of my locks like a set of miniature curling irons.

  “You sound American. Where you from?” asked Jenny.

  “I’m from California.”

  “I thought there was a lot of sun in California?”

  “Yeah... well, you know... I am not a big fan of the sun... it’s bad for the skin, you know.”

  “You’re right. Your skin is very soft; no bumps, milky white. It’s very nice.”

  She then gently brushed the edge of my jaw.

  Jenny started to sprinkle kisses around my neck. The hair behind my neck began to stand up. She smelled very good. I couldn’t recognize the smell of her perfume, but I could tell it was quite pricey.