I always say that the night I met the vampire changed my life forever, and I can you hear going, “Shit, Wendell. Your life went from bad to ‘Lawd have mercy, somebody light a candle.” And I couldn’t blame you. It did.

And I met him again. The vampire returned. I don’t know if he remembered my birthday – I’m 19 now – or if it was just coincidence that he showed up in the same spot almost to the day a year later. Bit creepy if you ask me, the way he just stood there as if nothing had happened in between. As if I hadn’t almost died – twice – since our last meeting.

I’m wandering up and down the street, puffing a cigarette. I’m not really looking for a client. The night is still young and maybe Russ will be over later. Russ is one of my regulars, one of the nicer ones. White guy, in his 30s, always dressed smart, smells real good, too, and asks for a blowjob. While I suck him off, he always has his hands in my hair, very light, and tells me how good my mouth feels. I’d do him proper, I doubt he ever had “real sex” with a guy, but he always declines with a violent shake of his head. I think he works in a bank and doesn’t want anyone to find out he’s into little boys. Not that I’m little…

I pull my new phone out of my back pocket. It’s not brand-new, but Josie gave it to me for my birthday. So she won’t lose me again, she says. I try not to waste the battery until I can charge it again at the diner but I can’t stop looking at the selfies with my little princess Soso that we took last weekend. Josie asked me to come around, so we could celebrate my birthday. She made her famous gumbo – I still haven’t told her I’m vegan – and a sweet potato pie with a pecan crust for dessert. I wish I had any leftovers, my stomach is pretty empty right now.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a movement and it startles me. It is him. The vampire. He looks like trouble wrapped in silk. I can’t help but flash him a smile. Then he scares the hell out of me. One moment he’s across the street from me, then he’s standing right next to me and I have a fresh cigarette between my lips. It’s lit and I can’t even see a lighter. I suspect he has a few more tricks up his sleeve.

We do a bit of small talk before I ask him if he’s come back for another snack, or maybe a little more this time. I could tell, last time, that there was interest in more, and I catch a slightly hopeful undertone in my voice. Selling sex on the streets is never fun or romantic, no matter what Hollywood says, but some clients are more bearable than others.

Unfortunately he declines, but says someone wants to meet me. His husband. To most people this sounds like the introduction to a very kinky threesome – I’d be up for it – and I know who his husband is. I put some puzzle pieces together. And the picture is so much bigger than a threesome.

This is the moment I realize I’m going to meet the Vampire Lestat. THE Vampire Lestat. My teen idol. Whose music I had on constant repeat when I was a kid. Who I had pictured in my mind when I had… a bit of a private moment, with myself, on more than one occasion.

I hear a choking sound next to me and belatedly remember that Louis can read minds. And that he is apparently Lestat’s husband. Oops. Ah well, I’m sure I’m not the only one with a smutty brain, and Louis must be aware that his husband is fucking gorgeous. I glance over at Louis and see a smug smile on his face. Oh he knows…

The closer we get to his car, the more my heart races. I’m sure I’m sweating like a pig, too. When Louis opens the car door for me, I’m such a nervous wreck I feel like I’m going to be sick. I’m about to meet Lestat…

The car is empty.

Louis leans in to me and whispers, “He’s at band practice. We’re going to join him there.”

I nod. Of course. Of course, I’d known that. How stupid of me to think a famous rock star like him would come to pick me, Wendell the Hustler, up in his car. He’s not a knight in shining armour and I’m not fucking Cinderella.

Then it hits me. I’m not only going to meet him. I’m going to meet the entire band! I’m embarrassingly close to hyperventilating. Louis chuckles next to me.

“Do you have to read my mind the entire fucking time?” I snarl at him.

He tries to look serious, but I can see the twinkle in his eyes. “No, but it is too funny.”

I finally get into the car, growling some curse words under my breath. The car is a roomy SUV and looks brand new and expensive. The seat padding is nice and soft. The kind you just want to sink in and relax. Louis gets in beside me and just makes a gesture at the driver, who doesn’t need directions or an address, he knows where he is going. I’m too nervous to pay attention. I look out the window but my vision is blurred. I never dreamed about meeting any of my idols. Of course, Luke Cage and Black Panther are only fictional characters, so fat chance there. But the Vampire Lestat is real. And I am about to meet him.

It actually never occurs to me that Louis could be lying. That he’s only baiting me into his secret lair to feed on me for the rest of my short life. Like these sickos who lure little kids into their cars with candy. He’s much too powerful for such cheap tricks, and he could drain and kill me in a flash any time he wanted to. I risk a glance at him out of the corner of my eye. He’s also staring out of the window, face unmoved. He’s not reading my mind now, I hope. Some of the sadder parts of my life’s story don’t need to be put on a mental billboard.

Last Christmas I was back at my sister’s house, after I almost died on the streets. I had pneumonia and I was malnourished. My whole body was covered in cuts, bruises and burns, and I was bleeding where that guy had roughed me up. Josie nursed me back to life by sheer willpower. She would not let her baby brother die on her. She’s my personal superhero. I had posters of my superheroes on the walls of my room (and a giant one of the Vampire Lestat in tight leather pants and not much else). But Josie is my superhero without a cape.

I slept most of the time, I was so weak. Played with my niece Soso until I got too tired. Then I slept some more. One day, when Soso was at daycare and Josie at work, I started rummaging around my room. I found my old things, my baseball cards and my action figures. One was missing an arm, one didn’t have a head. I found a shoebox where I collected some newspaper clippings and pictures of the Vampire Lestat. His first concert in San Fran. His sold out world tour. A surprise gig in New Orleans. And then I saw the one about him making out with another guy in a club downtown. I remembered the outcry it had caused.

Not because he was getting hot and heavy with a guy. No one who followed the Vampire Lestat could have been in any doubt, that he liked “a little variety from time to time”. But seeing it was something else than just hearing it or suspecting it. Josie suspects what I’m doing, but I never told her. Never could. She called me a “fucking rent boy” once when she was real angry. But I didn’t confirm it. I didn’t deny it either.

The article came with a few blurry pictures. The Vampire Lestat and the guy making out in the middle of the dancefloor. The two of them in a tangled heap of limbs on a plush sofa in a private lounge area of the club, snapped through a curtain. Another one of them leaving the club, Lestat flashing a big smile at the cameras, the other guy half hiding behind him and shielding his eyes from the lights.

I remembered girls crying in our school hallway that the Vampire Lestat was now lost to them forever. Boo-fucking-hoo. As if… I think there were a few boys, too. But I couldn’t stop staring at the other guy, the one Lestat was with. I couldn’t blame him at all. That guy was beautiful. And he was black, like me. So when I looked at the pictures again, my jaw kind of dropped. I knew the guy. That guy had paid me a fortune to drink my blood. Who almost sucked me dry. Who also told me that the Vampire Lestat was a fraud.

Now he calls him husband. I still don’t understand everything that’s going on here. But I’ll find out. Soon.

We stop in front of an old industrial building on the outskirts of New Orleans. The moment we get out of the car, we hear music playing and my stomach somersaults. Backflips. Does something sideways. A whole aerobic routine. I look at Louis, unsure where to go, and he gestures towards a door. Inside we’re first greeted by a grey tabby cat. Louis lifts it up and kisses it on the head. He nods towards another door, half-opened. Behind it, the band is jamming away to some tunes. Then I hear the voice. Jay-zuhs. It is him. Jesus fucking Christ, it’s really him.

Louis chuckles at my reaction, puts the cat down and walks ahead. The music stops playing and I hear a few muffled voices. At least one of them is female. I take a few deep breaths until I find the courage to follow Louis. I enter the room and all heads turn towards me.

They look older than I remember. The other band members I mean. Of course, it’s been years since they were in the limelight. I need to take a few more breaths before I can look at him. Lestat. He looks exactly the same. Only his luscious blond locks are now tight up in a bun, and he’s wearing a black silk shirt (unbottoned to his waist, showing off his perfectly chiseled torso, sculpted by the gods themselves) and black dress pants. He’s glorious and my mouth goes dry. Probably from hanging open. Louis stands next to him, his arm around Lestat’s waist, and they look absolutely radiant. Together they’re perfection in a nutshell.

There is something furry rubbing against my ankles. It’s the cat and I’m glad for the distraction.

I’m introduced to everyone: Alex, Larry and Tough Cookie. I know all their names already, and it takes me only a moment, to match their looks now with how I remember them. There’s another woman sitting in the corner and Lestat introduces her as Christine, his lawyer. The cat is Barney and she is the band mascot. I realize that the band members and the lawyer are human, like me. Only Louis and Lestat are vampires. The cat is a neither, of course.

There’s Mexican take away, and we all sit on the floor and eat. The vampires only watch. I can see them touching, holding hands. Then the band gets back up on stage and play a few songs for me. My own private gig. If this is a dream, I never want to wake up ever again. Barney, the cat, curls up in my lap and purrs. This night it damn near perfect. I think of Remy and wish he were here with me. He was never into Lestat the way I was, but I wish I could share this moment with him. I bet he’d have been happy for me.

The band leaves around 2 am. Cookie hugs me with a pointed look at Louis. Alex and Larry high-five me and wink at the vampires with a grin. Christine places a folder on her chair, picks up Barney and follows the others. They know something I don’t. Not yet.

I’m unsure what to do. No one said anything about me leaving. I don’t know how to get back into the city either. I’m guessing my night with the vampires isn’t over yet.

I stuff my hands in my jeans pockets and wait.

Louis and Lestat stand near the stage and talk in hushed voices. Lestat looks at me over Louis’ shoulder, then rubs Louis’ chin with one thumb and kisses him. They actually kiss for a while, and I feel like an intruder.

Then Louis comes over, casually sweeps Christine’s folder off the chair and tells me to sit down. He pulls another chair and sits down across from me, legs folded, hands in his lap. I’m a bit nervous, I don’t know where this is going but we’re going.

“So this the part where y’all tell me you wanna suck my blood?” I glance from Louis to Lestat, who is doing something with the tech stuff on stage. “Or fuck me?” I look back at Louis, half grinning. “Or both?”

“First of all, I want to apologize,” Louis starts, all sincere. “For our last encounter. It wasn’t my intention to leave you in quite such a state as I have. I wasn’t…” he hesitates and glances at Lestat, who has his back turned to us. “I wasn’t in a very good place, and I didn’t realize you hadn’t eaten properly for days.”

I’m taken aback. This is not what I expected at all. But I appreciate the apology and make a dismissive gesture. Water under the bridge.

“Secondly, we do want to make you an offer.”

“One that I can’t refuse?” I ask, only half-joking.

Louis chuckles. “No, you can absolutely refuse it. No hard feelings. If you do, a car will take you back and you’ll never see us again. If you accept, we’ll make it worth your while.”

I nod. Slowly. I’m listening.