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“And Robert? If you fail me again in any matter, large or small, it’s the coffin for you”
The words were said at his back, almost casually as he left and there was so much he wanted to say to that. He could have pointed out that Jean Claude hadn’t protected either of them, that it was for Jean Claude and his human servant that Phillip had died but he knew that it was useless. Somebody needed to shoulder the blame for Phillip’s death, and Jean Claude had determined it be him.
“I’ll see to his things then, shall I?” he asked stiffly, and Jean Claude sighed as though he were suddenly as weary of all of this as he was. Humans came and went, he told himself. And fangophiles ‘went’ more quickly than most. They were transitory. Even so… Phillip had been so young.
“Do that” said the older vampire, searching out the master key for the lockers from inside his desk, the mask of indifference resumed as he pushed it across his lacquered desk. “And Aubrey’s” Robert snatched the key from the desk and left before he said anything he’d be given cause to regret.
He was by no means alone in the changing room, but from the silence he might as well have been. There was no banter backstage tonight; nobody had anything to say, each alone in his own thoughts, conscious of Phillip’s absence and when he went to Phillip’s locker every pair of eyes were averted from the corner, save his own.
Nobody else wanted to acknowledge the task he had ahead of him. When he went to slide the key into the lock he discovered it was already slightly open. It shouldn’t have surprised him; Phillip was both generous and well liked. He hadn’t thought another dancer would steal anything from him, least of all not his life. Inside there was little that was not expected; a battered looking wallet, a set of keys on a bat key ring with googly eyes, glucose and iron tablets, a bottle of Gatorade and a lighter, no cigarettes.
It was only when he moved a haphazardly folded black tank top that he noticed an envelope tucked away at the back. He didn’t think much of it when he took it out, expecting it to be the sort of love note from an admirer that was an occupational hazard of their profession but to his surprise it wasn’t Phillip’s name that was on the front. What it said was ‘Just in case’, and more surprisingly still, it was sealed.
It was meant to be found, Robert realised after a moment. Phillip, beautiful, care free Phillip had known that this day would come, and that knowledge alone gave him a full minute’s pause before opening the letter.
‘Dear… whoever finds this, I guess. Jean Claude?
If you’re reading this then either I’ve got myself fired (oops!) or something bad’s happened. If I’m fired then toss this out. If not… wow. I know I don’t always make the best choices, and that I’ve taken a few risks that I probably shouldn’t. You all warned me. You tried. Don’t feel bad. I want to thank you, everybody at the club. This last year you’ve been like family. My own family couldn’t accept me, but you did, and when I was here I didn’t feel so broken. I might have been safer back home, but I would have been living a lie. So thank you.
I have one more thing to ask, a big favour. There’s a key to my apartment in the envelope. Please, somebody clear out my place? The posters, my porn, my club outfits. Anything that my parents don’t need to see. They know why I came to the city and it broke their hearts. Seeing how I’ve been living up close like that would destroy them and I’ve hurt them enough.
I love you guys.
All of you.
In the gay way, ha. ;-)
Love Phillip.
Robert folded the letter, telling himself he’d done all he could, that Aubrey and Valentine together were just too much, but somehow it didn’t feel like enough.