“The gods too are fond of a joke.”

— Aristotle

1.

Alby reached over to look at her clock. “Gotta get going soon.” 

“Where you going?” The words came out before she could stop them. Why not just handcuff him to the bed?

“Things to do, people to see.” 

She lit up a joint and handed it to him. He took a deep toke and made his way out of the bed. Who are you going to see, huh? Is it someone younger and prettier? Christ, she was so needy. Ugh. She hated that. Getting worse as she got older. She wanted to pull him back into bed. She laughed to herself. Maybe if I become a vampire this will stop!

“Alby? If I tell you some crazy shit that happened last night with Keith Richards, will you promise not to tell the other guys?” 

“Sure. I love hearing crazy shit.” He started putting his clothes on.

“He told me he was a vampire. He told me he wants to bite me and make me a vampire. He also told me that I could become a famous singer if I’m a vampire but only if I become a vampire. The thing about it was, he was so deadly serious.”

“Really?” Alby finished buttoning his shorts and stared at her. “What kind of drugs was he on?”

“I wish I knew. He could also read my mind. I mean word for word, no shit.”

“What kind of drugs were you on?” Alby giggled and sat down on the edge of the bed. “That’s really . . . odd.”

“Also Mick Jagger. Vampire. I don’t know what to do about this. I mean, on one hand I have Keith Richards telling me he likes my singing and I could be famous, and then he goes to crazy town and wants to bite me.”

“Tell him yes!” Alby slapped her leg. “Just to see what he does! Fuck, at the very least you’d be friends with crazy Keith Richards, right?”

“So you’d do it?” She was hoping he’d leave his hand on her leg. Needy needy needy. Fuck.

“Fuck yeah. What’s the downside?” He started putting his shoes on. “He nibbles on your neck or something like that, you get to know a cool rock star, and you become famous.”

Damn, he moved his hand off of her leg. “Okay, but this whole . . . famous . . . thing. I mean, I’m not sure about it. I just want to sing. And make some money doing it. But now, just to get . . . fame, I have to have a rock star nibble on me. Doesn’t sit right. I always thought that stuff didn’t matter to you. I mean, why’d you join our band?”

Alby pushed the hair out of his face and grabbed the joint from her. “Drummers don’t get famous! But it seems like a cool thing. You know, always having people like you and want you and doing whatever you feel like doing.”

She was hoping he would agree with her on the fame thing. This was where the age difference came into play. It seemed to her that everyone under thirty wanted their fifteen minutes. They wanted their own channels on YouTube, they wanted thousands of people to follow them on Twitter, they wanted to influence people, they wanted attention. It annoyed her. Reminded her of her own weakness. They all seemed so needy, all of them begging to be loved and admired. This was what fame seemed to be, a kind of bottomless hole of neediness. A whole generation of people who could never get enough attention. They needed a cure, not an audience. “Hmm. So why did you join the band?”

“I like your music. It’s very cool what you guys are doing. Also getting laid on a regular basis is very cool.” He leaned over and kissed her nose.

She closed her eyes and inhaled him. “But it’s not forever, is it? You know, the band.”

“Nothing is forever, right? I mean, unless you’re a vampire!” Alby stood. “When’s the next gig?”

“Friday night. Zinc Bar in the Village.”

Alby put on his jacket and left her apartment. 

Darla hugged her pillow. Nothing was forever. 

Or was it?

*********

2.

The guys left the dressing room, leaving Darla alone with Bob Dylan. Why are all these old rock stars stalking me all of a sudden? She rubbed her temple, trying to subdue the last remnant of pain from the jolt she had felt. “Umm, so, thanks for coming.” 

“What did Keith Richards want from you?”

“What? I don’t understand—” 

“Did you make any agreements with him?”

“What are you asking?” He came off like a humorless little prick. Even if Keith was looney tunes, at least he had some charisma, some flair. “Why are you here?”

“To save your soul.” He blinked at her.

“From what?”

“From evil itself. Keith is not good for you. You have to stay from away from him.”

Darla’s childhood in the church flashed through her mind. All of the condemnation, all of the good versus evil, all of the us against them. All the parts she hated, without the singing. “How did you find me? This whole thing is—”

“Wrong. This is whole thing is very, very wrong. No one is immortal. No one can promise you that. You must never compromise yourself. Besides, he’s a terrible musician. Just really awful. His stuff is so derivative. “

“Okay, can we stop with the church stuff? This is like a bad episode of something on the Syfy Channel. So you’re saying that you know that Keith thinks he’s a vampire, right? A real-life fang-toothed vampire who bites necks and stuff. And for some reason you know he met with me. Tell me what the fuck is going on here. Are you like the rock star vampire slayer?”

“That’s very funny.” Bob took off his hat. His wiry gray hair was uncombed, unruly. “Has he already offered you immortality?”

Darla nodded. She wasn’t sure what freaked her out more, his monotonous tone and dim, lifeless eyes, or this weird mindfuck that two old rock stars were playing with her.

“Does it seem attractive to you?”

She took a deep breath. “I don’t know what to think. Keith Richards drops in out of the fucking blue and tells me he’s a vampire and two days later you pop into my life and tell me my soul is in trouble. Just tell me what the hell is going on. This can’t be real.”

“Good, I’ve caught you in time. Don’t give in to your base instincts. He’s offering you fame, money, power, but that’s all an illusion. No one lives forever. No one. Only God can do that. And if God is not offering you that, then—”

“He must be the devil?” Darla wanted to leave. She didn’t want to stand here and get a religious beatdown from him. So he thought she would actually make a deal with the devil for fame? This little fuckwad thought she was that shallow. He didn’t even know her. Hadn’t bothered to get to know her. At least Keith had asked about her life. 

“No, he’s not that important of a figure.”

At this point Darla was exasperated. He was not being straight with her. He was going to keep droning on about her soul and fame like a bad movie. At least he couldn’t read her mind, could he? Can you hear my thoughts? Nod if you can.

He stared blankly at her.

Good. “Do you really believe there is such a thing as a vampire? I mean, have you seen Keith bite someone with actual fangs?”

“I have seen it. They exist.”