By TIA FIELDING
NOVELS By Any Other Name Technically Dead
NOVELLAS Auld Lang Syne Chuffed Something New Thank My Lucky Scars
Published by DREAMSPINNER PRESS http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com
Copyright
Published by Dreamspinner Press 382 NE 191st Street #88329 Miami, FL 33179-3899, USA http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Technically Dead Copyright © 2012 by Tia Fielding Cover Art by Shobana Appavu
[email protected] All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 382 NE 191st Street #88329, Miami, FL 33179-3899, USA http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ ISBN: 978-1-61372-610-5 Printed in the United States of America First Edition July 2012 eBook edition available eBook ISBN: 978-1-61372-611-2
DEDICATION Bran and Heath wouldn’t be here without some important people who have made my life so much fun in recent years. This one is for Sam, Alex, Shayne, and Cian, and so many more. And most of all, this is for Stacey, because without her, most of those guys wouldn’t exist. (Yes, this one you have to read….)
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS This book wouldn’t be half of what it is now without Shira’s and Helen’s help when I needed it. I’m also eternally grateful to Shae for her patience with the endless questions about Atlanta. Thanks, girls. If we ever meet face to face, the first drinks are on me. Without Miya’s and Jo’s pep talks when I need them, I might not be even writing. So the same goes for you two as well. And finally, Dreamspinner’s editorial team, you guys rock more than you know.
Part One
TECHNICALLY DEAD
1
Chapter 1
IT HAD been such a fucked-up day, Bran wondered how he’d made it this far. He had even taken a cab instead of going to the Garnett MARTA station. Usually it wasn’t a big deal; the commute was what it was, and he was used to it. Right now, after having worked from six in the morning until four in the afternoon, he was ready to spend money he didn’t really have to get away from downtown as soon as possible. The endlessly stretching shifts were typical these days; even though they were supposed to last eight hours, tops, he had yet again spent ten hours at the Trinity Shelter to finish things up. Today it hadn’t even been vampires that caused the trouble. No, it was a human, a middle-aged, drunken human at that. A woman who was at least five inches shorter than Bran’s own five foot ten had tried to push him around, insisting she was young enough to stay at the shelter, which only allowed teenagers. Pushing Bran was something no vampire would do, not for any reason. They knew better than to touch Bran, for which he was both extremely happy and constantly annoyed for completely contradicting reasons, ones he preferred not to think about. This drunken woman—Bran wasn’t going to call her a lady—had pushed his shoulder so hard she had almost sent him down a flight of stairs. Not only that, but when he instinctively grabbed her jacket to balance himself, she shrieked bloody murder and really pushed him. Luckily, that time it wasn’t toward the nearby stairs, because that would have certainly meant fractured bones. He paid for the cab and winced when he got up from the backseat. Jesus, his hip was killing him. The impact with the side table in the
2
TIA FIELDING
hallway hadn’t been as bad as a tumble down the stairs to the basement, but it was sure as hell was worse than hitting a wall instead. He limped toward the apartment building and marveled at the fact that his boss and colleague, Sheila, had told him to come in late the next morning. That was good—at least he’d get proper rest tonight. He’d need it tomorrow evening after work. It was one of the “Guys’-Night-Out” Fridays tomorrow, and he really needed to blow off some steam. In the elevator, he leaned against the wall, and Mrs. Chenoweth from the third floor frowned at him when she stepped inside from the second floor. It was too big a building to know everyone who lived there, but Mrs. Chenoweth had once been a stage actress, and she’d never let anyone forget that. She’d been in one of her secret meetings with her so-called secret lover, another wealthy widower living in the building. “Afternoon, Mrs. C,” Bran said politely. “Brandon.” She nodded, the frown lessening a little. That was all they had time for before the doors dinged at her floor and she toddled away. Bran let his eyes close, only to be startled by the ding when the elevator stopped at the sixth floor. He dragged himself out of the too-fancy-for-an-elevator box and walked to the left side of the hallway and the door marked 605. Bran unlocked the door and stepped in. “Honey, I’m home!” he called out and kicked his boots off. By the time he was hanging his leather jacket on the coatrack by the door, there was an enthusiastic little sound, and when he turned around, he got an armful of grinning blond. “Was it bad?” Kris asked him after hugging him and kissing him soundly on the lips. “Yeah, watch my hip,” Bran said, gasping softly when the younger man accidentally poked the bruised area. “Okay, sorry. We need to take a look at that. Who was it this time and are you hurt anywhere else?” Kris asked in a worried tone, one Bran knew well enough by now. Kris was the one who worried the most, even though he was also the most levelheaded of the people closest to Bran.
TECHNICALLY DEAD
3
“First of all, shower. Then food. Then whatever you want to do with it.” Bran headed toward the bathroom instead of the open kitchen area on the opposite side of the luxurious apartment. Kris took Bran’s hand and smiled in a way that made Bran feel like it was him who was ten years younger than the other man, instead of the other way around. He was being placated and he knew it. “Sorry…. It was just a really long day,” he sighed and ran his fingers through his messy dark-brown hair. “It’s okay, honey.” Kris smiled and left him to strip next to the hamper while he went to put on the steam Bran loved so much. “Are you joining me?” Bran asked, smirking and suddenly coming up with all sorts of things Kris could do to make him feel much better. “Of cour—holy shit!” Kris’s grin turned into a grimace when he took in the damage on Bran’s hip. “Oh… it colored even more during the drive here.” Bran stretched himself to take a better look at his whole hip, now a bruised dark purple. “I’ll say….” Kris stripped off his T-shirt and lounge pants before stepping into the shower after Bran. “Let me take care of you….” Bran stood in the steam for a while, enjoying the smooth glide of Kris’s hands over his chest and stomach. Then Kris stepped behind Bran and began to knead his sore muscles, eliciting the dirtiest moans from Bran. After a while, Bran realized he had only so much time before he’d want to sit down, and he’d prefer to do it on the couch or at least at the booth-like table in the kitchen. He turned on the water and stayed still while Kris used some lovely mild citrus bodywash and even washed Bran’s hair for him with Kris’s own shampoo. By the time Bran was clean, relaxed, and ready to step out of the shower, he felt Kris’s hands slide down his chest with purpose. He opened his eyes to blink at the blond suddenly kneeling in front of him. Kris looked up at him with clear challenge in his pretty blue eyes. Bran stepped back a little, leaned against the wall, and smiled lazily. Kris grinned and followed him on his knees.
4
TIA FIELDING
It really didn’t take long for him to get going, watching the lightly muscled young man at his feet, feeling the very talented mouth on his cock and fingers teasing his perineum when they weren’t expertly rolling his balls. “Fuck…. Either you’re a genius—” Bran gasped as his hips decided to ignore his commands to stay still. “Or I’m too fucking easy….” At the exact moment he groaned, jerked his hips forward, and shot his release into Kris’s mouth, the bathroom door opened and a gorgeous older man stepped in. “I thought I heard you come in,” the newcomer said through the glass. His expression was amused as he leaned against the counter behind him. “You about done? I ordered Chinese.” “Almost there,” Kris, who was now furiously jerking his own cock, gasped. Bran felt come hit his leg and smiled at the sight of the flushed blond trying to gather his breath. “What the hell happened to your hip?” the salt-and-pepper-haired man asked in a tone that was very clearly both upset and disapproving. He held out a towel for Bran. Bran stepped into his arms and sighed contentedly. “It’s nothing, Ric. Some drunken woman pushed me against a table.” He hummed, trying to hold onto the relaxed feeling. “Bran….” Ric stopped before he could give the usual safety-first speech. Bran assumed Kris had shot the older man a hard look. “Can I have a kiss instead of a lecture?” Bran asked, hating the small wince he was unable to hide as he moved to grab another towel for his hair. Ric rolled his eyes but leaned down to kiss him gently, licking Bran’s lips before giving him a proper kiss. There was a moan from behind Bran, and both of them smiled into the kiss before pulling apart. “Fine, you get one too.” Ric pulled Kris to his chest while Bran stepped away to dry his hair.
TECHNICALLY DEAD
5
Bran smiled, watching the others make out like teenagers. They were an oddly suitable couple, against all odds. Ric was young at almost fifty, and Kris was an old soul for a twentysomething. Most of the time you couldn’t tell who was older in spirit or how big their age difference really was. Bran and Ric had broken up a little over two years ago, and Bran was glad that Ric had found someone like Kris not long after. The fact that they both loved Bran and Bran loved them was a plus. They would never work as a ménage relationship, but they had fun in bed occasionally. Ric and Bran’s ship had sailed long ago, and the three of them had an understanding that made it possible to stretch their friendship into something more physical when they wanted or— like today—needed it. The distinct sound of the door buzzer interrupted the make-out session, and Ric went to get their food. Kris headed to the master bedroom to get dressed, and Bran walked to the guest room that was more or less officially his room, despite him having his own—well, it was rented from Ric, but still—house in Candler Park. It was good that he had clothes here; he would have hated to put his grimy work clothes back on. Instead he grabbed fresh underwear and a T-shirt before pulling on some clean—designer, because they were an old birthday present from Ric—jeans he took from the dresser drawer. He found the others in the kitchen, eating at the booth that was large enough for all of them. There was a longneck in front of the empty seat, and Bran grinned as he sat down. They stayed mostly quiet while they ate, the only words exchanged about bartering for food— ”What will you give me for an extra spring roll?” When Bran was finally full and most of the food had vanished from the table, their collective sigh of contentment made them crack up. “Let me guess,” Bran said as he pointed a finger at Kris, “you were studying.” Then he pointed at Ric. “And you were doing some weird thing at your computer?” “Oh yes.” Ric stretched, and Bran could almost hear his joints popping. “How about I’ll clean up here and you two go and pick a movie to watch?” Kris got up and began to gather the empty containers.
6
TIA FIELDING
“I was going to go—” “Nope. Movie,” Ric said firmly, and that was that. The older men walked into the media room that was in some ways better than going to a movie theater. The screen wasn’t that big, but it was still massive in the room, and the sound system was great too. The bonus side was that there were no kids, no cell phones, and nobody would be chatting. There weren’t tall people blocking the view, either. “Are we counting on Kris getting bored?” Bran asked as he took his usual seat in one of the comfortable plush chairs. “Oh yes….” Ric’s tone was a purr that made Bran chuckle. They had done this countless times, and Kris was onto them for sure, but it seemed like the whole idea worked like a charm. When Kris got bored during a movie, he would fidget first. Then he’d pick a target—either Ric or Bran—and slide to the floor to find something more fun to do. Like giving a blowjob, whether it was asked for or not. After that, it was mostly trying to watch a movie while you were getting or watching someone else get a blowjob right next to you. More often than not, the movie would be forgotten and they’d head to the master bedroom, either all three of them or some other combination. The thing was, while Bran played with Ric and Kris, he wasn’t part of their relationship. He could just as easily leave the others to it and go home. Tonight it seemed like Ric wanted him to stay, though, so he probably would. They made a valiant effort to watch a European action movie that was pretty good, until Kris began to twitch. “Should we just pause this and let the kid out of his misery?” Bran asked, and just like that, his lap was full of blond. He barely registered Ric shutting down the system, being glued to Kris and his lovely mouth. Hell, the boy knew how to kiss! “Okay, now, kids, let’s go to the bedroom.” Ric manhandled Kris off Bran’s lap and pulled them both out of the room and down the hall to the huge bedroom. The bed there could have hosted a small-scale orgy, and they always had fun in it. For a few moments, things turned frantic: kissing, groping, undressing. By some minor miracle, they all managed to get into bed.
TECHNICALLY DEAD
7
Bran lay on his side—the one that didn’t have a bruise the size of his head on the hip—with Kris in front of him, kissing him with the usual abandon. Bran heard Ric fish out some condoms and lube from the nightstand, and then the warmth of another body settled against Bran’s back. “This okay?” Ric asked, carefully rubbing Bran’s thigh below the bruise. “Yeah.” Bran nodded, pulling his head away from Kris—who immediately latched onto Bran’s nipple—to kiss Ric over his shoulder. He didn’t bottom often, it was something he mostly reserved for Ric, but he needed to lose himself in his lovers today. They kissed for a moment until Bran groaned at the feel of Ric’s fingers circling his hole and spreading the lube gently. Yeah, it had been a while…. He grabbed the lube and encouraged Kris to turn around. He prepared the wanton blond while Ric prepared him. It always took his breath away a little how synchronized they could be like this. In short order, Ric handed Bran a condom and rolled one on himself. He reveled in the way Ric sounded impatient when he husked, “You first,” into Bran’s ear. Kris moved his leg up and whimpered as Bran gently guided his cock into the blond’s smaller body. It was so good, so fucking good, to be inside a willing body like this. And when Ric penetrated him, everything got so much better it blew his mind. And then there he was, rocking back and forth as much as he could, having the others move with him, against him, and bringing forth enough pleasure that Bran’s frantic mind calmed down and overrode the stress of the day for good. It was like being in a trance, feeling the tight squeeze of Kris’s body and having Ric push into him with precise, measured strokes. The sounds filling the bedroom were intensely erotic, and when one of them—it was unclear which—came first, the others followed in rapid succession, Kris coming all over Bran’s fingers, which were wrapped around his cock. Some minutes later, enough energy returned to Ric for him to pull out of Bran and then wait for Bran to do the same with Kris. Ric went
8
TIA FIELDING
to take the condoms to the trash and got a washcloth to clean them all up before crawling into bed with them. Sometimes Bran wondered how much he stayed over for the cuddling afterward.
TECHNICALLY DEAD
9
Chapter 2
WHEN Bran first met Ric eight or so years ago, he thought the older man was just a rich guy with too little to do. They met at Grady Memorial Hospital, where Bran was a patient. Ric was there visiting his terminally ill uncle. They bumped into each other in the cafeteria a few times; after all, Bran was very good at getting the nurses to let him escape for coffee. He had to use his wheelchair, but since there was next to nothing wrong with his hands, they allowed it. He never told them the stitches on his stomach pulled a lot while he was on his way to the promised land. He wasn’t sure when he first noticed the man with short hair just starting to turn silver at the temples, who always looked like he needed company more than anything. It was something about the man’s clothing, his TAG Heuer watch, and top-of-the-line cell phone that kept Bran at bay. After all, he was just a poor guy who had gone on a bender and ended up on the wrong end of a knife in a nasty bar fight. The thoughts of his bills made his stomach churn. On the third late evening of worrying, when he and Ric happened to cross paths in the cafeteria, he wasn’t paying attention to the older man anymore. Instead it was Ric who walked over to his table and asked if he could sit down. The rest was history, more or less. Slowly but surely they began to talk. They had a lot of common interests, and Ric—Cedric Darrell, a forty-year-old man who had inherited a small fortune and a few incredible pieces of real estate in Atlanta, as Bran later learned—never once treated Bran like the obviously broke guy with very little
10
TIA FIELDING
education he was. That was the biggest plus that decided things in Ric’s favor when he asked Bran out at the end of Bran’s hospital stay. Ric’s uncle lived for three more weeks, and it was Bran who accompanied Ric to the funeral. Nobody looked at him funny; nobody thought it odd that he was there, even though he was clearly at least fifteen years younger than Ric. In reality, it was sixteen years, and Bran wondered how he could ever measure up to someone like Ric—suave and with impeccable manners and style. Gradually Ric had him move out of his shitty apartment in Little Five Points and into the huge apartment he had along Peachtree Road in Buckhead, where the rich folk lived. From the beginning, Bran tried to figure out how to pay back everything Ric was doing for him. The older man didn’t want to hear it. For the month or so it took Bran to recover from all his injuries, they tried to figure out what to do about Bran’s growing anxiety over “using Ric.” Sure, Bran had his job as a bartender in a bar downtown, but it wasn’t enough to pay the bills, especially after the fight he had gotten into at another bar…. When he went to work after the brawl and his hospital stay, his boss clearly stated that if he ever fought at work, he’d be fired on the spot. It wasn’t something he liked to do, bartending, but it was a job he had easily gotten, and without much education, he had to grab what he could. Finally Ric came up with an idea: Bran should get his GED, and go from there. Ric would make sure Bran had a roof over his head, food on the table, and eventually, when Bran was done with college— whatever he chose to study and however long it took—and had a job, he could start paying Ric back if he insisted. It took another week of mulling things over before Bran agreed to it. It went against his instincts, which kept insisting he should manage on his own. Luckily his brain managed to convince him that it was a good deal, a once-in-a-lifetime kind of deal. A year later, when Bran had his GED and a whole new view of the world of studying, Ric surprised him with a celebratory vacation abroad. They flew first class across a whole lot of salt water to a country Bran could hardly place on the map. It was midwinter in Finland, and when they finally made it to their destination three rides in
TECHNICALLY DEAD
11
increasingly smaller planes and an hour or so car ride later, Bran was half-dead from exhaustion and he’d never been so cold in his life. As Ric had promised, it was worth it. Their eventual destination was in the middle of nowhere—Lapland. The sky was black and glittered with stars, and the sparse trees were small and looked somehow poorly. The guide explained that everything around there was different from the rest of the country because they were well above the Arctic Circle. Once they were led into their accommodations, Bran merely stared with his mouth wide open. The guide left them, but Bran never registered it. They were in a strange, large glass igloo. That was the best way he could describe it. The ceiling was glass, and so were most of the walls. There was a double bed on one side and what seemed like a bathroom and a kitchen, both with all the necessities with a hint of luxury, in the more closed space on the other. “You….” Bran blinked and then turned to look at Ric. He cleared his throat and tried again. “This is… too much, Ric.” “No, it’s not. I wanted to take you somewhere unique. This is it.” Ric smiled, walked to him, and wrapped his arms around Bran. “They do honeymoons and stuff, but anyone can rent these. It’s ours for the long weekend.” The word “honeymoon” registered with Bran briefly, and something in his expression must have alerted Ric. “No, nothing like that. I swear.” The hasty words made Bran relax, but the flash of pain in Ric’s eyes made Bran’s heart clench. They had never talked about their relationship, but Bran had a feeling this was his opportunity to come clean. They got rid of most of the layers they had on, and Ric went to the kitchen to find them something to eat. It was nothing fancy, just something the guide had had made for them, but it took the edge off. They could cook the next day, after all. When they had their bellies full and had taken quick showers, they settled into bed. It was very, very late, and they had traveled for way too long. They cuddled for a moment, staring in wonder at the sky above. The twinkling stars and the sudden burst of northern lights took
12
TIA FIELDING
Bran’s breath away, and somehow he got the feeling even Ric, who had traveled all around the world, was awed. Eventually, Ric asked a question Bran had been dodging ever since he got out of the hospital a year earlier: “Who paid your hospital bill?” For a moment Bran worried his bottom lip with his teeth and then sighed, curling closer to Ric and the comfort he felt. He wondered what it was that made Ric trust him so implicitly. The man hadn’t asked once after he had avoided the question when they’d started dating. “I’m not sure, but I think it was my ex. Sort of ex.” He frowned a little at his own definition. “He’s a vampire. I met him when I was kicked out of my folks’ house. I was on the streets for a few months, and then winter came…. One night….” Bran hid his face against Ric’s chest for a while. Ric didn’t push him. Instead he stroked Bran’s back with his fingers and gave him all the time he needed. “I had been tricking,” Bran confessed in a whisper and tensed for a moment, waiting for Ric’s reaction. It wasn’t his proudest moment, hustling for money to get food. Ric hugged him tighter for a while and kissed his hair. “So one night, it was really cold; December in Chicago can be brutal. I was walking toward the shelter that I usually slept in, and some guys came out of a club and spotted me. I suppose they knew what I was, just a hustler, and they… they beat me up, knocked me out, and left me in an alley to die.” “Jesus….” Ric exhaled, and for a moment Bran couldn’t breathe because of the tight grip Ric had on him. “The next time I woke up, I was in this fancy house at the lakeside. There was a guy next to me, and I wasn’t feeling that bad. Sure, I was bruised, but that was about it. I learned that he was a vampire, he had stumbled upon me and, for some reason—he never specified why—took me with him and didn’t let me die.” Bran recognized the hint of awe in his tone that he would never ever be able to shake. “Sounds like a decent guy,” Ric stated. “Oh, he was. He never wanted anything from me. In fact he treated me like a kid, which naturally pissed me off, because by then I
TECHNICALLY DEAD
13
had turned nineteen.” Bran chuckled and Ric snorted a little. “I spent the next year getting to know him. At some point he gave in, and we became lovers too, and….” “And you fell in love with him,” Ric said in a quiet tone. “Yes.” Bran nodded against Ric’s chest. “What happened?” “When the year was up, he kicked me out. No explanation. He gave me a wad of cash, a huge backpack for my clothes he had gotten for me, and he kicked me out.” He barely noticed the tears streaming from his eyes. “What did you do then?” Ric asked, wiping Bran’s eyes with the edge of the comforter that was wrapped around them. “I went into a motel for the next night. The next day I traveled to New York. I had some friends there. But I hated that place and it seemed like the city was nuts, in any case. It was easy to get odd jobs and couch surf with friends, though. I did that for about a year, and then I met this guy, Mickey, and he knew someone who knew someone, and eventually I ended up working in Hawaii for a year. It was nothing fancy, just some resort cleaning and stuff, but I could use my free time learning to surf. It was fun.” “When did you start having these done?” Ric asked, tracing one of the ivy leaf tattoos on Bran’s neck and shoulder. “A year after Heath kicked me out.” Bran smiled a little. It was an almost but not quite bitter smile. It was also the first time he ever mentioned Heath to Ric by name. “Are they in order?” Ric asked, tracing the first one, high up on Bran’s neck. When Bran nodded, Ric said, “Let’s see….” And in the dim mood lights of the igloo, he touched the first leaf. “This sprouts from your pulse point, doesn’t it? So this first leaf is vibrant and healthy, looking for, what, new beginning?” Bran chuckled. “Yes, exactly.” Then he got more serious. “It starts where it starts because I wanted to hide the point where he liked to bite me the most. And because he loathed tattoos in general.” He smirked a little, the old defiance raising its head. “The next one?” Ric asked, trailing the stem of the ivy vine to the next leaf.
14
TIA FIELDING
“It has a blue-green edge, for the ocean. That one I had done when I was in Hawaii. That’s where the idea of having them themed came from.” Bran stared at the sky above them, blinking slowly when he felt Ric touch the next leaf. “What’s this one? It looks… rotten, almost. Unhealthy.” “That I had done when I moved from Hawaii and came to Atlanta. I couldn’t understand why no vampire would want me… I mean, at that point I was pretty desperate for… for a vampire.” Again he ducked his head; this time he was truly ashamed. “Were you addicted to the bite?” Ric asked matter-of-factly. “No, no…. It was more like… like I craved the whole thing. Having the cool body against mine, having the whole experience, not just the bite. I wanted a vampire so bad…. Eventually I grabbed a bottle, and it went downhill from there.” Bran had drunk himself to oblivion. Getting the bartending job was the first step in staying mostly dry for an extended time. The second step came the next year; the hospital stay was what woke him up and made him stop drinking almost completely. He drank rarely, and his closest friends looked out for him. They never let him drink more than a little and never for more than two nights in a row, if even that. “Why didn’t they want you?” Ric asked, clearly interested but also torn. Bran guessed it wasn’t easy for Ric to imagine him craving a vampire’s touch. “Because at some point before he kicked me out, he had fed me his blood.” “Wait… what?” Ric asked, propping himself up on one elbow. “He’s over nine centuries old, Ric. He was a crusader. That means he’s so fucking old he could probably have his own court somewhere. It’s all about age when vampires figure out rank among themselves. And when he gave me his blood, he left his mark on me. Other vampires smell his blood, that I’ve been in close contact with someone who they’d call Elder. It will stick with me, his scent, and vampires younger than Heath would never touch me just because they know I’m—” The sob that escaped Bran surprised them both. “Marked. His…,” he finished, and then he was suddenly in Ric’s arms again.
TECHNICALLY DEAD
15
The next morning they continued the conversation. Ric had figured out that the blood red on the latest leaf Bran had had tattooed on his shoulder was because of his hospital stay. The rest of their weekend was spent mostly staring at the scenery—the igloo was on top of a mountain, and the view was breathtaking—and making love. The last night, as they were lying in bed, staring at the northern lights again, Ric suddenly sighed. “I know you’ll never love me like you love him, but that’s okay. I’ll take what you can give me and I’ll be content with that. I love you, Bran, you know that.” That year’s leaf had a strange shimmer to it, as if it had been sprinkled with stars and a hint of northern lights.
16
TIA FIELDING
Chapter 3
WHEN Friday morning rolled around after a good night’s sleep, Bran felt much better. He had insisted on going home for the night, and finally Ric had relented. He had also insisted on driving Bran home, and that was a concession Bran was ready to make to calm the man down. After getting a kiss from Kris and a promise to come over early next week to show off his next tattoo—Kris remembered things like that better than Bran sometimes—Bran left the apartment with Ric, who took him straight to the garage and his posh Mercedes. “You’re quiet,” Ric stated as they began the drive toward Bran’s house. “Kris reminded me of the tattoo. That’s about it,” Bran said, turning his head to look at Ric. “Yeah…. What will it be this year?” he asked, smiling a little. “This is going to sound stupid, but I want it to have a silver lining.” Ric looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded seriously. “No, I get it. It ought to have a silver lining, after all.” Once again Bran sighed, happy that he hadn’t been laughed at and that Ric understood him better than anyone else in the world. The leaf for the year before, his first year of working at the Trinity Shelter, was a vibrant green leaf. There was nothing special about it. He had enjoyed learning the job after graduating. He only had his bachelor’s degree, but the need for social workers was insane, so for now Bran was waiting to get to his master’s.
TECHNICALLY DEAD
17
They spoke very little on the way, and Bran snapped out of his thoughts when Ric turned the car into his driveway. “Thanks for the ride.” He leaned in to kiss Ric briefly. “You’re welcome, babe. Anytime, you know that.” “I know,” Bran agreed and got out of the car. His house was at the back of the lot, and he liked the privacy. There was an attached garage; his bedroom was above the garage, while the rest of the house was two stories, with the kitchen and dining room downstairs. It wasn’t much, but it was home. Despite Ric’s constant nagging to give Bran a loan so he could get a car instead of taking the MARTA or buses everywhere, he wouldn’t budge. Besides, as Ric himself had said, the man drove him when needed, and sometimes Bran could borrow his best friend Tony’s car. His cell phone rang in his pocket. Speak of the devil. Bran answered the phone as he unlocked his door and went in, flicking the lights on. “Hey, man.” “So you’re alive, nice. I drove past your place when I came to work. There were no lights on,” Tony said in a tone he probably meant to sound nonchalant but didn’t quite succeed. “Oh, honey, I didn’t know you cared so much!” Bran teased him. Then he added, “I went to Ric and Kris’s after work.” “Oh, so you got laid, no wonder you sound so mellow and almost happy.” Tony’s words were suddenly cut off by him telling someone to get more tequila for the horde. “Go work. See you tomorrow after I get off work?” Bran asked, walking up the stairs to go straight to his bedroom. “Yeah, take a cab or something. I’ll cook so we can eat before we go out, wouldn’t want you to keel over from the booze, you lightweight.” Bran snorted. “Har har. See you tomorrow, moron.” “Love you too.” With that, Tony disconnected the call. They had met while Bran was still drinking too much. In some ways, meeting Tony had changed him. At first it was just Bran frequenting the club where Tony worked—as a bartender at the time,
18
TIA FIELDING
instead of manager like he was now—and he had started to notice how much Tony regulated his drinking while they chatted during the quiet evenings. Then they went to the movies—as friends, at that point—and then finally hooked up maybe a month later. It was good. Not mindblowing, but they could have some decent fun together. Tony still blamed himself for not being able to keep Bran out of trouble the night Bran ended up in the hospital. He said he had seen Bran wasn’t doing well that night. There had been an edge to Bran, and when he’d gone outside to smoke—a habit he’d gotten rid of since— Tony hadn’t realized the guy he’d been having an argument with had followed Bran. The rest was bloody history, literally. After Bran met Ric, Tony became a friend of Ric’s too. When Bran and Ric finally broke up two years ago, it was Tony who made sure Bran picked up where he left off—without the booze, mostly—and had some fun during his free time. They still hooked up every now and then. Bran wouldn’t be surprised to wake up next to Tony come Saturday morning. Tony was bi and hadn’t been in a relationship for a while. He also disliked hooking up with strangers, something he lectured Bran about occasionally, so sometimes they ended up in bed, and it was all good. They just didn’t have the spark people needed to actually date and form proper relationships. Bran slept extremely well, almost through his alarm going off at eight thirty. Luckily, he was good at waking up quickly when needed, and he dashed out of the door with his travel mug only half an hour later. At the shelter, Bran waved at the few regulars playing a video game in the common room before heading to Sheila’s office in the more official side of the building. The Trinity Shelter was a red brick building that had once upon a time held three different businesses side by side, but was now the roof over the heads of homeless youth, vampires and humans alike. On the left were Sheila, Bran, and a nurse’s offices. In the middle was the common space, with stairs leading upstairs, to what Sheila called the dorms, and downstairs, to what she called the dungeon, which was occupied by vampires.
TECHNICALLY DEAD
19
Bran didn’t mind vampires, mostly because they didn’t mind him. He was one of the good guys, even for the young, freshly turned ones. Bran wasn’t prejudiced, and he often got kids coming in who had heard about “that cool human guy” from a friend of a friend. To his own credit, he had to say he was making a difference, one kid at a time, fangs or no fangs. “Morning, sunshine!” Sheila grinned at him, and he rolled his eyes. “How’s the herd this morning?” he asked, plopping down into the chair in front of her perpetually messy desk. “Vamps are asleep and so are some of the humans. There was this tiny slip of a girl waiting for me when I got here before six. I fed her and put her in Carmen’s room.” Sheila filed away some papers. “So, you going out tonight?” she asked, leaning back in her chair and sipping from her coffee. They were both caffeine junkies, but apparently it came with the territory. Sometimes Sheila said caffeine dependency was like a requirement for the job. “Yeah, I’m going to Tony’s after work.” Bran nodded, looking around her light and surprisingly airy office. Sheila was closer to sixty than fifty and looked like the warm mother figure she was, spiced up with the spiky platinum blonde hair that contradicted her looks enough to make her seem slightly tough and interesting. “Is Jenna coming in?” Bran asked, looking at the schedule behind her on the wall, but he couldn’t tell what it said on Jenna’s row. “Yes, she should be here before you leave. Marcie is in her office already, and she’s staying until Sam gets here at six or so.” They chatted for a while before Bran had to go fix a meal in the kitchen on the right side of the building. They had kitchen staff, but they only came in to cook dinner, so all other meals for the humans were made by the house staff. Jenna, their third social worker, was usually in charge of feeding the vampires. Volunteer humans came in and donated blood in a separate room in the back of the building, next to the nurse’s office. They didn’t get money for their trouble, but they were people who were concerned and knew that most of the young vampires coming in were just street kids
20
TIA FIELDING
who had been on the wrong end of someone’s fangs one night and had had no say in being turned. That was one of the things Bran had never understood—turning someone against their will. But when a vampire drained a human enough, the human became too weak to resist and was at the vampire’s mercy. Or lack thereof. Sure, there were mixed gangs of vampires and humans that turned within their own circle, but those kids usually only came here when they wanted out. The gang problem had diminished some over the past few months. Bran—and the authorities—were sure that someone was either killing or turning these kids for some reason. Sadly, they might never find out, because nobody missed these people, even though they were all someone’s children. Jenna was one of those kids. She was like a daughter to Sheila and had had a similar life to Bran’s, in some ways. She had run away from home when she was just sixteen, and had ended up at the shelter. Ten years later, she lived in a shared apartment not far from the shelter, where she now worked. The only difference was that two years ago, while she had been walking home from some evening classes, she had been attacked by a vampire. To this day Jenna had no idea who turned her, and learning to navigate the new kind of living was pretty damned difficult. Luckily, the bachelor’s degree she had—the same one Bran had—had provided her enough information on vampires to know the basics. Sheila had helped her out with the rest. The thing was, being turned was something Jenna now saw as a blessing. She could help more, she said. The vampire kids trusted her, and she understood them better than any human could. She had taken it all in stride, something Bran wasn’t sure he could have done himself. As soon as he had a ton of scrambled eggs and toast on the table, the horde descended. It was like they smelled food the same way the vampire kids smelled blood, and then they came running. The shy new girl was there too, and one of their older regular kids, Carmen, had clearly taken her under her wing. They offered these kids food and shelter, and some days volunteers came in to teach them job skills or one of the older ones who had more education did it themselves. Some of them went to one of the free-of-charge schools in the area. Things had changed in the past thirty
TECHNICALLY DEAD
21
years, ever since the vampires came out to the general public—you just had to go in at least three times a week for it to be free. Bran was one of those people who couldn’t remember a time before vampires. He had been only a baby when the big revelation had happened, and when he started to understand, the biggest panic was over and humans were trying to adapt to their new worldview. Now society was different. There was even a vampire prime minister in England, and another one was running for president in Iceland. One positive thing had been that when people realized some of their neighbors had fangs, they forgot to check who said neighbors slept with. Being gay hadn’t been much of an issue for a long time now. That said, religious people were even worse these days, but the laws that stated they couldn’t spread their anti-vampire and anti-LGBT views anywhere near places like the shelter kept them at bay. Hell, there were even a few churches that welcomed both. Not everyone welcomed LGBT people to their social circle, though. Bran had firsthand experience of that. He had been the apple of his parents’ eye, homeschooled and loved and given everything he ever needed, within reason. He’d been taught about vampires when he was little, about how to stay safe and how everyone needed to be respected, fangs or no fangs. What his parents hadn’t told him was that being gay wasn’t allowed. He’d realized his persuasion when he was fourteen, after his best friend fell for a girl everyone else seemed to like too. Bran never saw anything interesting in her, other than the fact that she was really good at Trivial Pursuit and her much older brother was a vampire. Maybe it was the fact that the brother had come home from college that summer, and that he was tall and fit and gorgeous, that made Bran realize he didn’t want the sister at all. Or any other girl. The fangs didn’t really bother him; the brother was in control of them, and there was something sexy about the hint of danger surrounding the young vampire. Bran came out to his mother that fall. “Mom, I have to tell you something important,” he said one morning after breakfast, as he was organizing his books for schoolwork.
22
TIA FIELDING
“Oh?” she asked curiously, having the expression of an indulgent adult facing a child’s minor problems. “I…,” Bran started to say. Then he took a deep breath and blurted out the rest before he could chicken out. “I think I like boys more than I like girls.” It was like the air had been sucked out of the room. Everything stopped. The Oxford English Dictionary on the table moved more than Bran’s mother. He felt dizzy all of a sudden. “Brandon Mackenzie Roland, this is the last time you’ll ever speak of such things in my house,” she said in such a tone Bran knew not to ever bring it up again. And he didn’t. Not until a few years later, when his father caught him making out with another boy in their garage. It had been stupid, yes, and maybe Bran had wanted to get caught. The result was being kicked out of his childhood home into the chilly late autumn of Chicago, and being told that he didn’t have a home or a family anymore. Paradoxically, if he’d been turned, his parents would have done all they could to make sure he was fit to live in society as a functioning member of it. Maybe they’d even have been proud of him if he’d conquered the new “condition.” Being born gay—something Bran was absolutely sure he had been—was evil. Fangs were not. He never could understand the reasoning, not to the day he sat there in the office and tried to work a little. Gradually during the day, the youngest vampires woke up and went to get their breakfast from Marcie. They didn’t need much blood, only about a pint every day total, and the shelter tried to provide at least half of that for them. They couldn’t make sure that the kids didn’t take blood from unwilling humans, but then again most of these kids were good and would only turn violent if truly desperate. Once everyone was fed, the kids went their own way or stayed in and socialized. Bran had a steady stream of teenagers—or vampires who looked like teenagers—coming and going from his office. He was the male ear at the shelter, where Sheila was the mommy ear and Jenna was the vampire ear.
TECHNICALLY DEAD
23
Since the youngest vampires could still go out into the daylight, some of them had actual jobs. There were vampire-friendly businesses everywhere, and the shelter was a well-known place by now. “Their kids” were a good, hardworking lot, whether they had fangs or not. The older a vampire got, the more sensitive to sunlight they became. That was one of the reasons why there were very few really old vampires. It was estimated now, according to the recent talk show Bran had caught late one night, that about 70 percent of all vampires were under a hundred years old. The remaining 30 percent were older than that, and 5 percent or so were over six centuries old. To turn his thoughts away from one particular vampire, Bran asked a question of one of their regular vampire kids, Jason, who had come in to have Bran check something for him. “Hey, is it true that there’s a new duo trying to run the city?” he asked, and Jason went oddly quiet. Bran turned back to the paperwork in front of him, and eventually Jason began to talk, like he always did. “Yeah, they’re twins. Male and female. They have a building somewhere east of the university, I mean Emory. I don’t really go there….” “Ah… okay.” Bran shrugged like the subject wasn’t a big deal. “How old are they?” “Old. Old old.” “Okay. Well, this looks fine.” He handed the papers back to Jason and dismissed the teen—Jason had been only seventeen when he was turned two years ago—to think about it all. It was worrying, but of course a duo of older vampires could pretty much be after anything. Even making sure the city’s vampire population was getting proper care and education, which could still be an issue. But since they hadn’t come forward publicly, Bran doubted it. A hesitant knock on his door made him look up. The new girl was there, practically being pushed in by Carmen, who smiled briefly over her head and then pulled the door closed after the girl. “Amy, right?” Bran asked as if he didn’t remember. She nodded and shuffled to the old, beat-up armchair in front of Bran’s desk.
24
TIA FIELDING
Again he waited. This was something he was good at, after all. “So… Carmen told me you are… like… gay?” She looked up at him through her lashes, seeming so shy that Bran guessed if he made a sudden movement, she’d jump out of the chair. “Uh, yes, I am.” He nodded, wondering where this was going. It was no secret he was gay; everyone knew it around the shelter. “I was wondering…. Carmen said you’d know about the LGBTQ youth groups around here?” The petite girl blushed. “Oh, right. Well, yes, you know the community center three blocks from here? Where some of the vamps go to evening school?” he asked, and when she nodded hesitantly, he went on. “You could ask Jason to take you there. He goes to the group sometimes when he’s not working at the center.” “Jason is… the tall skinny one?” Amy asked, apparently trying to figure out which of the vampires he was talking about. “Yeah, the one who always wears the blue hoodie. He’s a really good guy, you can trust him, I promise.” He tried to look as calm and convincing as possible. “Okay…,” she sighed, relaxing a little, then looked at Bran again. “Have you always known?” “Since I was maybe eleven or twelve. I knew something was different.” Bran smiled gently. It was obvious she needed support, someone to talk to. “I’m fourteen.” The words came out in barely a whisper. She looked like she had been on the streets for a while, and it broke Bran’s heart. She looked older, but her small frame was a testament of her age. “You’re just figuring things out?” he encouraged her. “Y-yeah. I… I had a girlfriend… sort of. Or… like… a friend, and my dad saw us kiss. We were only experimenting!” The last bit came out in a scared rush, probably in a tone similar to what she had used when her father found out. “It’s okay, kids experiment at some point,” Bran said, remembering his own first kiss with a boy.
TECHNICALLY DEAD
25
“He told her to leave our house and never come back,” Amy sobbed, “and then he told me to get out. Just like that. It was like I wasn’t even his—” She sniffed. “—his daughter anymore.” “How long ago was this?” “It’s Friday, right?” Bran nodded. “A week and a half ago. I don’t have any family around here; my mom died of cervical cancer two years ago. We moved here in the spring, me and Dad, when he got a job in the city.” “What is it you’d like to do about the situation?” Bran asked, watching as the girl’s features lit with surprise. “W-what?” she stuttered. “Well, here at the shelter, you guys have choices. We won’t make them for you. See, you’ll have to learn to take responsibility of yourself, to make your own decisions. This is where you start,” he said seriously, not smiling this time. Amy went quiet and clearly thought her answer through. After a few minutes, she looked at Bran again. “I want to stay here for a while, then I’d like to… to try and call my aunt in Detroit. She’s nice, but I really… I really want to figure things out a bit first. If that’s okay?” she asked shyly. “That sounds like a plan. You can help us in the kitchen when needed, go to the LGBTQ youth group and figure things out.” Bran nodded, smiling again. “Do you have any skills?” “Skills?” she frowned. “Like… what?” “Anything you’re good at you could teach to the others?” “Oh…. Well, I can play the piano. And ride horses, but there aren’t any horses here.” She grinned, a tiny bit of playfulness peeking through. “No, but there’s an old piano in the dungeon. If you get some of the vamps to carry it up for you, I can call around for someone to tune it for you,” Bran promised. “The d-dungeon?” Amy looked hesitant. “Yes, that’s what we call the basement. It’s actually really nice. Not a dungeon at all. The vamps live there,” Bran said, getting up from
26
TIA FIELDING
his seat. “I need more caffeine,” he stated, and Amy came along with him to the kitchen to look around. After all, that was where she’d be working, at least for a while.
AT TWO thirty, right when Bran was sliding into his weekend mood— weekends off were a luxury he didn’t get that often—one of their resident nurses, Marcie, stormed into the common room, where Bran sat playing Mario Kart with some of the kids. “Bran, need you,” she gasped. Then she whirled around and left, and Bran was immediately on edge. “Kids, doors locked. Right now. Nobody out and especially in unless it’s our own.” Everyone scurried to do as they were told. The only one who looked completely lost was Amy, but Carmen was there to tell her what was happening. Bran made his way to the nurse’s room and out the back door of the building. Marcie stood there waiting for him, surrounded by three teenagers. They were the typical mix of dirty clothes, fearful body language, and defiance that made them dangerous as hell. Their twitchy movements told him they were freshly turned vampires. “What’s going on?” Bran asked. “I was letting Thomas out and… these guys….” Marcie gestured, her expression calmer now that Bran was there. Sometimes Bran thought the others put too much trust in his tainted blood. “Okay, get me three bags of blood while we talk.” Bran’s tone left no room for argument. Marcie vanished back through the door, and the vampires looked at Bran cautiously, sniffing the air, trying to figure him out. “Now, sit,” Bran said firmly, gesturing at the benches near the wall. “One thing you should know,” he said as the kids did as they were told. “If you fuck with our donors, you’ll never be welcome here again. If I catch you in the act, I’ll make sure there’s more trouble for you than you can handle.” The only girl in the group looked at Bran, challenge flashing in her eyes. She must be the leader.
TECHNICALLY DEAD
27
Bran met her gaze head-on. “You can smell it. I’m human but I know someone who is older than dirt, and if I’m hurt, or if anyone inside this building is hurt, it won’t be pretty. And you know how emotionless the Elders are….” He trailed off. It was a lie, of course; he had no contact with his ex and hadn’t for years, but the scent now coded into his body was an edge he needed, an edge he used when dealing with these kinds of situations. The girl swallowed audibly at the word “Elder,” clearly knowing what that meant. She finally nodded. “Okay.” That was when Marcie walked back with three bags of blood, probably heated in the microwave. She knew it would taste better for them, and it was about ten times better than the animal blood you could buy from any “Vamp-Mart” around town. Real human blood was hard to come by if you were dirt poor. “Eat, then we’ll talk. I’ll be in the office that’s first after the corridor,” Bran stated and gestured at Marcie to walk back inside with him. “Go tell the kids they can relax. These guys are new, not dangerous. At least not after they’ve fed.” The nurse nodded and went through the house to let everyone know what was going on. Bran looked at his watch, noticed he was about to get off work in ten minutes—in theory—and sighed. As soon as he was in his office, he called Tony’s house number. “Yello.” His friend answered the phone in his usual style. “Well, hello,” Bran said, rolling his eyes a bit. “I’m going to be late. Not much, but I’m needed until Jenna and/or Sheila come in.” “Baby vamps?” Tony made an educated guess. This wasn’t the first time something similar had happened. “Yep, three.” “Shit… I thought there were less coming in now,” Tony sighed. “Well, okay. I’m making a sauce now but holding on with the pasta until you’re here.” “Okay, thanks, Tony. I gotta go,” Bran said when he heard the back door of the building open slowly, as if someone was hesitant. “Okay, see you. Take a cab,” Tony added at the last second. “Will do.”
28
TIA FIELDING
The knock on the doorframe was loud, somehow contrasting the handling of the back door. “Come in.” Bran tried not to smile. The girl shuffled in, the two boys flanking her. “Sit down,” Bran said as he gestured at the chair and a ratty couch against the wall by the door. The boys took the couch, like Bran had known they would, and the girl sat down in the chair. “Feel better now?” They all nodded, and Bran could tell they really did feel better, just based on their less edgy movements and the color of their skin. “Okay, so. Here’s the deal: you’re here, so you know what kind of a place we run here, right? You’re newly turned, so I assume you’re either gang rejects or someone turned you because you’re friends.” The girl cleared her throat. “Relatives,” she said and turned to point at the boy on the left side of the couch. “That’s Simon, he’s my brother, and that’s Derek, he’s our cousin.” When she turned back, she looked at Bran. “I’m Lindy. I’m sixteen, the boys are both seventeen. We lived with Derek’s mom, and her new boyfriend is a vampire….” Her expression said the rest. It wasn’t an unusual story. There were stepparents who were vampires who had enough of the kids and turned them just so they had an excuse to toss them out. There were parents who were turned by their own kids out of spite. There were as many reasons to turn someone as there were vampires and humans. “You have nowhere to go?” Bran asked. “No. Our grandma lives near Savannah, but we can’t go to her… not like this.” Lindy gestured at herself, and Bran understood. “You need to get used to being a vampire first. Know you’re in control so that you won’t hurt her.” The boys nodded simultaneously. “Okay, well, there’s good news and there’s slightly less good news.” Bran smiled at them. “Good news is one of our social workers should be in at any minute. Her name is Jenna, and she’s been a vampire for a couple of years. So she can help you with stuff. The resident vampires we have will also help you out. The less good news
TECHNICALLY DEAD
29
is that you all stink. So once Jenna gets here, she’s going to show you the downstairs and find you clean clothes. You’ll get a room for just the three of you if you want. There’s space in the dungeon right now. Showers and such are in there. Jenna will fill you in on the rules. But the one you have no choice about is no violence. One of you snaps, you’re all tossed out and then some. Got that?” He made sure his tone was very firm, and all of them nodded. “Bran?” There was a knock on the door. “Marcie said… oh, yes. Hi, I’m Jenna.” The bubbly brunette standing in the doorway stepped in and held a hand out to Lindy first. “And I really need to run, Tony’s waiting. Fill Sheila in when she’s back from her meeting, and take care of these three. I’ll see you at six on Monday morning.” Bran got up and grabbed his jacket from the coatrack in the corner. By the time he was saying bye to everyone in the common room, Jenna had taken the three newest members of the shelter gang downstairs. She was already calling them LSD, short for Lindy, Simon, and Derek. Just… great.
30
TIA FIELDING
Chapter 4
LIKE the good boy he was, Bran took a cab to Tony’s. It was pretty much on the opposite side of Candler Park from his house. Tony’s place was nice—he’d bought it when the market had been good for risking something like that, and Bran could see why. The lot was huge, and the house was comfortably sized, with a wraparound porch and two stories of compact space. The best thing was that it felt like a much loved, lived-in home. Bran paid yet another cabbie and promised his conscience he’d make Tony pay for his drinks tonight. When he walked up to the porch and in the front door, he was greeted with “Finally!” from somewhere deeper in the house. By instinct, he headed toward the kitchen and tossed his jacket on the couch as he passed the living room. “How was your day, dear?” Tony asked from in front of the stove, where he was adding the freshly homemade pasta into a large pot. Bran walked closer, wrapped his arms around Tony, and sighed contentedly. “Not too bad, but I can use the weekend off.” Tony, all six foot two and gorgeous looks with laugh lines around his eyes, reached a hand back to muss Bran’s hair affectionately, then turned around and hugged him properly. “Let’s get some food and alcohol into you. Maybe that’ll make it all better.” Tony was the more obviously good-looking of the two of them. He was the kind of guy who laughed and made everyone turn to look at him. The looks were appreciative. Always. Bran, however, was not as tall or as muscular, but he had his high cheekbones and dark eyes. His features were sharp and his lips were a little bit too thick for his own liking. He was sometimes told he looked
TECHNICALLY DEAD
31
like a model, but he just couldn’t see it himself. He was… Bran. Just Bran. For a moment they just stood there like that, embracing and enjoying the fact that they had a whole night for “guy time.” “So, did you get rest?” Bran stepped away finally, going straight to Tony’s fridge for beer for them both. “Yeah, I got home just after four and I slept like the dead.” Tony nodded, accepting the bottle and then taking a deep gulp. “Good. If I can’t hook up at the club, I can count on you to entertain me later.” Bran hopped onto the counter and opened his bottle to take a sip. “Yes, unless I hook up at the club—” “As if. You never hook up at the club.” Bran rolled his eyes and took another pull of his beer. “Hey, just because you’re a manwhore doesn’t mean I have to be one!” Tony waved the spatula he had used to stir the pasta sauce. They had this conversation every time they went out together. Well, almost every time. But it was true that Tony rarely hooked up at the club, and Bran… did. Not that he fucked anyone in there. Or, well, he did, but so rarely it wasn’t something worth mentioning. Having dinner at Tony’s was in some ways better than having dinner at Sheila’s—he was invited once a month to her house, and it was an invite you didn’t ignore if you wanted to keep your balls—and even better than having dinner at Ric and Kris’s. Here there were no expectations whatsoever. He did clean up after them and discuss the latest happenings at Tony’s work and his own, but that was it. There was no pressure to make sure he didn’t offend anyone or make anyone jealous when there was no reason. Here he was just Bran, Tony’s best friend and occasional fuck buddy, and he could relax. As usual, they had a brief argument about where to go. Eventually they agreed to go to where they almost always went: Pierced. It was a rock club with a definite gay vibe. All kinds of people went there, from vampires to humans, gay and straight, men and women or anything in between, leather daddies with their boys, and the emo crowd with enough makeup for their pores to never see daylight again.
32
TIA FIELDING
It was a good scene, though. The music was great, only loud around the dance floor, and nobody looked at you funny. There were also the back rooms, where all kinds of sucking happened regularly, and blissed-out people came out while tense-looking ones went in. Nobody knew how Pierce, the guy who owned the place—and yes, the name of the place was so much of a pun it was ridiculous—kept it going, other than the fact that a lot of city officials and cops went there too. “I don’t know why you’re whining, anyway. You got laid yesterday, by two men. I haven’t had any this week!” Tony did the theatrical throwing his hands up thing when Bran tried to figure out what to wear. He had his party clothes at Tony’s because usually they ended up dining there before they went out, anyway, and he had another few possibilities at home in case they went that route. “Yeah, fine. I’ll shut up. But does this look good? Are you sure?” he asked, buttoning a dark-green silk shirt that made his brown eyes pop nicely. “Yes, you look lovely. I’ll fuck you myself if you’re really desperate. Now come on, the cab will be here any minute!” Tony tried to hurry him. The club was packed when they got there around ten. Apparently there had been some sort of a
