The night I met the vampire Louis de Pointe du Lac changed my life. I didn’t see it at first, but it did.

In the months after the concert, life doesn’t change much at first. Winter comes and goes.

I still live at Josie’s, play with my niece and do the odd job in the neighbourhood. Josie is grateful for the support. Having me around means she knows Soso is taken care of when Big Mal needs her to work late. At one point I realise that “Big Mal needs me to work late” is actually code for “we’re dating” – so much for “who’d want to date a single mom”. Big Mal basically fell for Josie the day she applied for the job, but it took him a while to pluck up the courage to ask her out. Josie hesitated at first. She liked Big Mal but was worried about her job, in case things got weird – and chances were pretty good that things would get weird, what with being a single mom to a little girl and the extra baggage of a good-for-nothing, (ex!)-hustler baby brother.

But Big Mal (his real name is Malcolm, but everyone just calls him “Big Mal”) proved to be a champ and took it all in stride. He’s a bear of a man, big and cuddly with a heart of gold. He absolutely dotes on Soso and treats Josie like a queen. And he accepts me. Even finds the odd job for me when I need money. I don’t know what Josie told him about my past, but he knows that I lived on the streets.

With Big Mal spending more and more time at our house, it’s becoming a little cramped. I don’t want to be in the way, so I start going to the park again. It’s full of kids from school, my old school, but I don’t recognise any of them. All my classmates graduated a long time ago and moved on to jobs or college. Some even have kids of their own.

I feel like life just passed me by, and I’m stuck.

I still live in my old room in my family’s house. I never graduated high school. I never learnt any skills that don’t involve sex work. And I actually don’t want to go back to that. I don’t really know how it happened, but that last attack, which almost killed me, has been the proverbial final straw. But I catch myself thinking, Well, if it’s the only thing I’m any good at, maybe I just don’t have a choice? The thought scares me.

Big Mal offers me a job. Of course, he does. He loves Josie. But I’m not as smart as she is, I can’t do any bookkeeping, and numbers make my head hurt. I don’t mind helping out with deliveries and stuff, but I don’t want a pity job from my future brother-in-law (assuming that’s where it’s going). It beats having a sore ass and sleeping on the streets, but is that really all there is? Even I can see that these are not the best prospects for someone who is not even 22.

One day in early spring, my phone rings when I’m at the park watching some kids shoot some hoops. They look at the grandpa with the retro ringtone – me – and then ignore him – me. I don’t recognise the phone number and answer a little wearily. It’s a female voice at the other end: Christine Claire. Sure, I remember her? It takes me a moment, but then I do. She’s Lestat’s and Louis’ lawyer. She says she has some paperwork for me, and could I see her downtown ASAP?

I think it’s about my former contract with the vampires, and it makes my mouth go dry a little. Actually, that contract never expired; it was just never brought up again, and I assumed their desire for my blood was stilled. I agree to meet Ms Claire the next day and take the bus to the address she gave me.

It belongs to a small apartment building with a little garden in the back. It doesn’t look like the place where you would find a lawyer’s office at all. I pace up and down the street, smoking a cigarette. I don’t smoke in our house. It’s a bad habit, I know, and Soso shouldn’t inhale the smoke, but I’m nervous and don’t know why I was summoned. Ms Claire arrives in a whiff of expensive perfume, a powder-coloured suit and a big wave of flaming red hair before I can finish my third cigarette.

She’s very professional, apologises for being late (she’s not), and takes me up to the top floor, where she unlocks the door to a small, furnished, one-room apartment. There’s a small kitchen, a bed, a table, two chairs and an en-suite bathroom. It’s perfect, and it’s beautiful. The best part is that it overlooks a small rooftop terrace with lots of greenery, tucked away from the hum of the city.

Ms Claire lets me look around and then says, “So, how do you like your new place?”

I’m stunned. It’s gorgeous. It’s everything I could have ever dreamed of. But there is no way I could ever afford such a place. I tell her as much, and she raises one perfectly shaped eyebrow.

“Oh, did I forget to mention that this is the custodian’s apartment? My firm recently purchased this building as an investment, you see. We’re looking for a new custodian. You come with recommendations.”

I gape at her with my mouth hanging open. Who in their right mind would recommend me as a custodian? Then I connect the dots. Ms Claire’s firm. Whose biggest client is one Lestat de Lioncourt. If Big Mal’s offer smells like a pity job, this one clearly does. I look around the room and the big window front overlooking the rooftop terrace. My own home with my own outside space, where nobody can bother me. This is too good to be true. I can’t accept it.

She probably sees my turmoil and says I don’t need to decide right away. They’re happy to wait for an answer until the end of the month. Then she quickly explains my tasks, which basically involve being present in an emergency, doing the odd job around the house, mowing the lawn, keeping the backyard clean, putting the bins out for collection, and alerting a craftsperson for bigger repairs. It actually sounds doable.

I ask if I can have a closer look at the terrace, and she just gestures to the window front. A part of it opens to the outside. I step out and breathe in. The sun warms my face, and I can smell the fresh greenery. White and pink blooms dot the potted bushes. Butterflies flutter between the flowers, and a small sparrow picks at crumbs on the floor. I’m already so in love with this place. Reluctantly I head back inside. Ms Claire is on the phone, and I catch Louis’ name before she hangs up.

“Mr du Lac regrets to inform you that your previously signed contract with him and Mr de Lioncourt is hereby terminated. Your services will no longer be required, and they extend their best wishes for your future endeavours.”

I nod. I’m not surprised and also a bit relieved. I thank her for giving me time to consider the offer. I go to Jackson Square and sit there for a long time on one of the benches. Mulling things over. I could live in the most beautiful little apartment. My own space. And I work in a job that I think I can actually do. Money was always tight in my family, so I learnt how to unclog a drain, fix a leaky sink or even change a light bulb before I was ten.

But it would be a pity job that the vampires give me because – for whatever reason – they feel sorry for me. When dusk is setting on the square, I call Mari. She’s on her way home but says she’ll meet me at Rosalie’s in an hour. This time she pays for our coffees and cake. Rosalie eyes us suspiciously but says nothing.

I tell Mari everything that happened. About Josie and Big Mal (why am I not surprised she already knows), about feeling trapped and like I’m drifting at the same time (she nods sympathetically). And I tell her about the apartment and job offer and that I don’t know whether to take it or not. That’s when she actually whacks me over the back of my head.

“Ay, bruto! How do you not know what to do? Say yes, of course!”

I try to explain that I don’t want to be at the mercy of two vampires, and she just raises her hands in frustration, “Madre mía, Wendell! Are you saying I’m at the mercy of two vampires?”

She says the last part really loud, and heads are turning our way. Her exasperation actually makes me giggle, and we both end up in laughing fits that turn even more heads.

I’m moving into my beautiful little apartment two weeks later. Big Mal helps me with my things. It’s not much. Just a few clothes, my Luke Cage action figure and a few things that Josie insisted on buying to make the place a bit more homey. She also gives me a collage of pictures of Soso and herself so I won’t forget them, she says. I think she feels bad for kicking me out of our house, but she’s not. I know it will always be home to me. Ms Claire is at my new home to hand me the keys to the realm personally. She also has a small box which, to my surprise, contains a timid-looking black kitten and a note:

“This is Bruno, the last of Barney’s babies. We’d love you to have him. We know you will take good care of him. L&L”

They also invite me to go clubbing with them to celebrate my new job (as if they didn’t have anything to do with it.) They pick me up with their car and driver. Maybe I am fucking Cinderella after all?

Lestat leans forward and gives their chauffeur the name of the club as “Le Vingt-Trois”. I never heard about it, but it sounds expensive and very exclusive. I wonder about the name “The Twenty-Three”. Do they have an age limit? I picture a mountain of a man, so muscular his suit looks like it might rip, towering over my scrawny frame and pointing at a small sign by the entrance that reads “No entry under 23”. I can almost hear his low booming voice that tells me, “That’s the rule, young man!”

Lestat just nudges me and grins: “Rules are for fools, Little Lell!”

To my disappointment, he doesn’t use a cool Jedi-vampire mind trick to convince the bouncer to let me in; he just slips him a few bills. The bouncer bows a little and then calls inside, “Mr de Lioncourt! The usual!” We’re taken to a small sectioned-off lounge with curtains that give us a little privacy. A big bottle of champagne waits for us, but of course, none of us touches it. Lestat takes my hand to whisk me off, and it still feels surreal to be here with him, my childhood hero.

I steal a sidelong glance at him. He’s dressed quite casually today. Black jeans, button-down shirt, Docs and a long overcoat. Nothing extraordinary, just effortlessly cool and sexy. His hair looks tousled and wild, but I’m pretty sure he spent hours in front of a mirror styling it.

Louis just waves at us to go ahead and plonks down on one of the velvet couches, book already in hand. Lestat pulls me to the dance floor. It’s impossible to go anywhere with Lestat without attracting everyone’s attention, and he’s clearly enjoying it. I try to hide in the shadows, but Lestat is having none of it and pulls me in. Despite everyone’s adoration – mine clearly included – I can see him peek at the lounge from time to time. Those two really are like magnets: you can pull them apart, but no matter what, they’ll always be drawn back to each other again.

After a few songs, Lestat takes me to the bar and orders a diet coke for me. Then he murmurs an apology in my ear and makes a beeline for a busty blonde on the other side. I know what he’s after and focus on my own drink.

I spend some time watching the other revellers. It’s a very mixed and diverse crowd, just what you would expect from this vibrant city. I can see college students, young professionals and some more seasoned party-goers in all shades of colour. I’m pretty sure I can see a lesbian couple in a corner holding hands, and a man down the bar is giving me an appreciative wink. I panic briefly. What if he’s an ex-client? What if any of the men here recognise me from my previous life? I think of Russ, my former regular, and wonder if he’d come here.

I feel a hand on my shoulder and flinch slightly. It’s only Louis who nods toward the dance floor. I shake my head. I’m good for now, and he pulls Lestat away from his busty blonde. He rubs something out of the corner of Lestat’s mouth and scolds him playfully. It’s probably something along the lines of “Don’t play with your food, mon cher!”

Before Louis can drag Lestat back onto the dance floor, they check back with me. I give them the thumbs up – still good over here – and watch them as they take centre stage. I can’t help it; they just look glorious together. They are monsters who do monstrous things, but the love between them is unreal. It’s quite unfair that as vampires they can spend eternity to find their perfect soulmate and then another just to be with them. We mere mortals have a considerably shorter time at our disposal.

I turn back around to take another sip of my coke, and this is when I see it again. The face. It’s the same man. Quietly watching me. This time he’s wearing a burgundy silk shirt that’s unbuttoned just far enough to show off the well-groomed fluff on his perfectly proportioned chest. He looks almost ethereal, surrounded by swirling fog from the smoke machine and the glow of the pulsating lights.

I try to get Louis’ and Lestat’s attention – are they seeing what I’m seeing? – But they are entangled in a passionate kiss in the middle of the dancing crowd. When I look back, the man is gone again.