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Note:
This is a spin-off to Barney.
The main protagonist is Wendell, the young hustler Louis encounters at the end of Chapter 3 (but you should read at least Chapter 4 before reading this one).
This is his backstory and his version of the night he met the vampire. Adult-themed without any sugar coating.
(Image is AI generated)

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It’s my birthday.

My 18th.

Not that it matters much. Only that I don’t have to lie about my age anymore on the streets. Sometimes I still do. It gives some of my clients that extra kick if they think they’re fucking a minor. Sometimes they want me to pretend it’s my first time. Act as if I don’t know what I’m doing.

“Oh, please, Mister, I am sooo scared.” Doe eyes. Get on your knees. Just hold still. It’ll be over quick.

It usually is.

After my first time with a client, it felt weird taking the money. I was ashamed, and I wanted to crawl into a hole and cry.

I threw up. And I did cry. I never wanted to do it again.

But the money was nice. It bought me a hot meal – a vegan burger – and a Diet Coke. And some weed to forget the pain.

I’m not a junkie. I don’t hustle to buy drugs. I don’t do drugs. I hustle because… well… to be honest: I’m not exactly good at anything else.

Most of the time I live on the streets. It gives me freedom. Rooms make me feel trapped. Like I can’t breathe.

Sometimes a mate lets me crash on their couch, but usually I sleep rough.

I try to take care of my body. I’m a street kid, but I’m a clean street kid. Clients don’t like it if their rent boy reeks of stale sweat.

I shower at the homeless shelter or at my mate’s whenever I can. Sometimes, after a good night, I indulge and pay for a cheap motel room and allow myself the luxury of a real bed, real pillows and a real duvet.

Sometimes I go to my sister’s, Josie. Her worried eyes always make me feel guilty. She shouldn’t worry about me so much. That I get hurt, that someone beats me up, kills me. That I catch an STD. That I catch HIV.

I never told her what I do. But she knows anyway. Don’t ask me how. She just does. Big sister magic, I guess.

When I show up on her doorstep, there’s always a hot, home-cooked meal for me. Often a gumbo, and I eat it, even though I stopped eating meat a while ago.

Once I’ve eaten, she pushes me into the bathroom and tells me to scrub clean.

When Soso, Josie’s little girl, is awake, I play with her and her doll. It’s a tattered old thing, and I want to buy her a new one as soon as I can.

Josie never lets me pay for the food or anything. I know she’s struggling herself. Soso’s “maker” (I refuse to call him her dad) never pays a dime for her.

Josie works the night shift at a grocery store up north. She cleans some rich guy’s house in the French Quarter when Soso is at daycare so she can spend some time with her in the afternoon. Take care of her little girl. And occasionally take care of her good-for-nothing baby brother.

I don’t know when she sleeps. She always takes care of others. She’s taken care of me after Mom died and Dad… well… started doing what he still does. Probably. I’ve not heard of the man for months. Maybe he’s dead. I don’t care. Josie would know.

She works so much, but it’s never enough. I feel guilty for not helping her more. Instead I feel like an extra burden for her. And I don’t want to be a burden to anyone. I can take care of myself. And if I don’t? Well. That’s that then.

For my birthday, Josie baked a cake. She even decorated it with my favourite superheroes. Luke Cage and Black Panther. I’m 18 now, but superheroes are still cool.

After Soso, Josie and I ate the cake, Josie says she has a surprise for me, and she takes me to a friend of hers who does tattoos. She says we should get matching tattoos. Something that says we belong together; we’re a family. We look at a book with pictures, but one springs out at once. We know that’s what we want. It’s perfect. It’s 504, the area code for New Orleans. Nola is our home, and we are each other’s home. Nola also means something else for me, but Josie doesn’t know this.

Tami, Josie’s friend, makes a bit of a fuss when we say we want it tattooed on our wrists. She says you don’t tattoo numbers on your arm. I don’t know why, but then she says she can do Roman numbers that look like letters. V 0 IV. Even cooler!

I spend the night and stay until Josie comes home from her cleaning job, then I leave. Soso and Josie hug and kiss me. Soso’s kisses are sticky from her fruit juice. Josie’s are salty. She doesn’t say anything.

This is a month before the night that changed my life. The night I met the vampire.

It’s summer. There’s a music festival at Louis Armstrong Park, and I hang out in the area with my mate T-Jay. The weather is mild, the music is free, and we’re having a good time. T-Jay buys a veggie curry from a vendor. I haven’t eaten all day, and the smell is making me feel woozy. But I don’t have money, so T-Jay lets me have a few spoonfuls. Then he spots this guy eyeing us. T-Jay tries to flirt with him, but the guy is interested in me. He’s pretty big, not fat or anything, just really big. I hope he’s only after a handjob or something as I take him to a quiet spot in a back alley. Of course, it’s my lucky day, and he wants the full programme. 

He pays me and tries to kiss me. His tongue is in my mouth before I can react. He tastes like cheap whiskey and I can smell his cologne, something spicy and musky. It makes me gag. He turns me around, face against the wall, and I pull down my jeans. He fingers me, briefly, and then he pushes into me. Hard. I grunt as I wasn’t prepared for the impact and try to steady myself with my forearms against the wall. Rookie mistake, I curse myself. I try not to think about what’s happening to me and focus on the tattoo on my wrist. Nola. Home.

The guy finishes pretty quick. He looks a bit smug when he sees me wince as I pull up my jeans and stuffs another bill in my pocket. He tries to kiss me again, but I turn my face away. He calls me a fucking homo and leaves.

I’m done for the night. T-Jay has probably gone to his usual spot, and I walk away from the park to a quieter area to have a smoke. I pace up and down the street and suck on my cigarette. That’s when I see him. He is fucking gorgeous. Fucking glowing. I mean, not like one of those glittering vamps in the movies. He’s just that beautiful. Of course I don’t know he’s a vampire yet.

He comes over with a cigarette between his lips and asks for a light. I lean in and let him light his cigarette on mine. I should say something, flirt with him, but all I can do is stare at him. His clothes look expensive, and he’s got that cool stance of confidence. He stares back. Finally I remember my profession and ask, “Anything else I can do you for?” I scratch my scalp. “But it’s gon’ cost ya.” Heck, I’d let him do anything to me for free, but a boy’s got to buy food.

He says he’s got money and lets me see a roll of bills that he pulls from his trousers.

Wowza. Jackpot.

I take him to a gap between two houses. It’s a small space, so we have to stand pretty close to each other. It’s nice.

I put a finger on his face and trace it down his cheekbone.

“So… What do you want me to do?” I ask and try to kiss him.

He turns his head away quickly. I’m a bit disappointed. I really want to know what he tastes like. Bet like honey and pineapples.

“Not that,” he says.

“Alright. No kissing. Gotcha.” Damn…

I try something else. I let my finger wander down his chest to his waistband and down into his trousers. “Tell me what you like.” We don’t break eye contact, and he lets me go on until my hand reaches his pubic hair. Then he grabs it and pushes it away.

“Not that either”, he says. He looks at my wrist. He sees the tattoo and smiles. He doesn’t have much of an accent, but he’s a New Orleanian, I can tell.

Then he looks me straight in the eyes and says, “I want your blood.”

What?! He’s joking. Obviously. Or batshit crazy. He doesn’t look crazy, though. I laugh.

“What are you? A damn vampire?” I ask him, still laughing. He just says “yes”.

I gulp for air and suddenly remember my favourite band when I was a kid. They said they were vampires, too. Or maybe only the singer said it. I can’t remember. The guy in front of me looks nothing like them.

“A vampire? For real? Like that rock singer from back in the day? Man, I used to love that dude. Used to steal my sister’s clothes tryna dress like him.”

I remember Josie getting real mad at me once because I ripped her pink fishnet stockings trying to walk in her heels and messed up her make-up. Made me buy her a new lipstick from my pocket money.

“He was a fraud. I’m the real deal,” the guy says, all serious. Jay-zuhs. He really believes it. It makes me laugh even more.

“What was his name again? LeStan or somethin’”?

“Lestat!”

Ouch. I hit a nerve. I don’t know what to say. What do you say to a raving lunatic?

Before I can recover, he asks my name. I try to flirt and tell him he can call me whatever he likes. But he’s not in the mood for games. I give in and tell him my name is Remy.

He looks straight at me and says, “No, it’s not. Your name is Wendell.”

Fucking hell! How does he know? I blow up in his face and demand to know who put him up to this. Is he one of T-Jay’s sick jokes? But even T-Jay doesn’t know my real name.

He says again he’s a vampire and can read my thoughts. Yeah, sure he can…

He asks me how old I am. I lie and tell him I’m 25. He’s not the kid-fiddling type. But he knows him lying – fuck knows how he does it. Knows about Josie, too. I freak out. No one around here knows about Josie and Soso. No one can know.

I’m getting tired of this shit and want to get it over with. This night is a real shitshow. My ass is still fucking sore from the other guy, and now this son of a bitch knows everything about me and my family. 

Just fuck me and then leave me the fuck alone.

I tell him as much.

I expect him to get angry, yell at me, beat me, assault me.

But he keeps all calm. Says no sex. Just my blood.

Fuck heavens. Seriously?

“You want my blood? Drink… my blood?” I ask. He says yes. Says he’ll pay better than the Red Cross blood drive down the street. And he won’t kill me.

I suddenly feel a chill creeping down my spine. Kill me… fuck. I don’t want to die.

Isn’t that what vampires do? Kill people? Of course, vampires aren’t real, and this guy is just a raving lunatic. I still ask, “How I know you won’t?”

“Because if I wanted to, I could have, the moment I saw you standing in that alley behind us.”

Fuck. He’s right. If he’s a vampire. But vampires aren’t real. I think about it.

“And you gon’ pay me?” I ask.

He offers me two Benjamins. Wowza. I ask for three, and he hands me the money. Three hundred dollars. He’s not a real vampire, so he’s probably just going to give me a hickey and leave. Wait, he said he’s not going to leave a mark on me, so maybe not even a hickey.

“I won’t hurt you. It won’t hurt. Only a little when I pierce your skin with my fangs. I’ll be gentle.”

Replace fangs with cock, and he sounds like he’s sweet-talking a fucking virgin. I feel like one, too; I don’t know what to do. No vampire bit me before. He tilts my head, so one side of my neck is exposed. I panic. What if he is going to kill me after all? My throat is all tight, and I want to scream, but I can’t. He tells me to hold still and relax. Well, I know that part.

He bends over me. I can feel his warm breath against my naked skin. Then something cold and sharp, a stabbing pain. It burns. I groan. It is… hot. Somehow. I can feel him sucking, and I can feel my blood flow out of me. He is a goddamn vampire.

His body presses against mine; one of his hands is keeping my head in place, the other is on my back, steadying me. I can hear him slurping my blood. I feel dizzy. My body starts to float. I can’t feel my toes and fingers anymore and become a limbless body in his arms. My heart is racing, and there’s a ringing in my ears. I’m dying…

Then it is over, suddenly. His mouth is gone, and I go down like a flapjack. His arms are there, and catch me, guide me onto the pavement. Make sure I sit upright. My body just wants to keel over. I feel so weak. I feel so cold. My teeth are chattering, my head is swimming. I can’t focus. Everything is blurry.

I can feel the guy’s hands fondling my ass. God, please, no! He’s changed his mind. He wants me after all. Please, no. Not now. I can’t take it. Not tonight. I try to tell him, but no words come out of my mouth. I can’t breathe. I gulp for air.

There’s a voice, but I can’t hear what it is saying. A gust of wind. I sob. The last image I see in my head is Remy before I pass out.

Remy…