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“Want to get out of here?” Louis said, twisting the end of his cigarette into the ashtray on the bar.
He really did have strange eyes. The edge of his irises seemed to glow of their own accord, and it reminded Daniel of the light-up dance floor at the EndUp: vivid color behind a layer of thick, scuffed glass. And like the dance floor, Louis’ eyes were especially mesmerizing after a few drinks.
Louis gave a knowing smile, like he’d just heard a private joke.
“Yeah,” Daniel said. “Yeah, I’m ready to split.”
Outside the bar, the chill of the marine layer didn’t seem to bother Louis, who left his thin jacket open, only buttoning it up as an afterthought when the wind began to toss it around. Daniel was typically resigned let the wind bite at his exposed neck, but tonight the booze warmed like an extra layer.
Daniel had a hunch it was going to be a good night. He had an interesting subject and a hook-up. Hook-ups plural, if he was lucky, though Daniel was content to keep a laissez-faire attitude. When was the last time he’d gotten laid, anyway? It couldn’t be that co-op chick in Santa Cruz months ago. In any case, work always came first, and Daniel had three part-time jobs to keep him occupied: fact-checking for peanuts, writing for himself, and scoring smack.
Louis led them down a block and a half, then turned to cut across Civic Center Plaza. Across the way, City Hall was all lit up, convinced of its own solemn grandeur. Daniel wasn’t denying it was impressive, even beautiful. Daniel had been in and out of his fair share of ornate city halls, courthouses, and civic buildings, and he remained suspicious of their tasteful sconces and sumptuous staircases, their high ceilings and broad lacquered desks. He had a conjecture that, like old churches, they were designed to inspire fear and awe in equal measure. Something about beauty and terror and power.
“So, where are we headed?” Daniel asked.
“I thought we could walk,” Louis said. “My place is on Divisadero.”
“And what?”
Louis regarded him with a bemused expression.
“The cross-street,” Daniel clarified.
Louis smiled.
“It’s not far.”
So this was how he was going to play it. The coyness that would have irritated Daniel in another context suited Louis. Louis, it seemed, had all the time in the world. Time—and cash—to buy them a second round at Mary’s, then a third. Time to lean in on Daniel’s words—elbow on the bar, fingers toying with the edge of Daniel’s drink napkin—only to pull back with a grin, already secure in the direction the night was headed. It was kind of hot, actually, that unrushed demeanor. Maybe it was a southern thing.
Again, Louis looked amused. He had a great smile, especially when it reached his eyes.
“You been in the city long?” Daniel asked, pulling out a fresh cigarette and offering one to Louis. Louis leaned to meet Daniel’s lighter, and the heat of his proximity against the thick night air was headier than any cologne.
“Depends on how you define long.”
“So, what brought you here? What’s a vampire want with San Francisco anyway?”
“Jumping the gun, Daniel!” Louis said. From his lips, the playful admonishment felt like a tease. Daniel felt a flush unrelated to the alcohol coming on.
Louis continued, “You in a rush or something?”
“Maybe a little bit,” Daniel admitted. “Well, not in a rush like I’m in a hurry. Just, you know. Like I said, I really want to interview you.”
“And I want to tell you my story. Not many people know it. In fact, I don’t think anyone alive knows it start to finish.”
“How about your friend back there?”
Louis and the doe-eyed man at the bar had seemed familiar enough. Louis’ friend was pretty, too, the kind of face you didn’t forget. Daniel was sure he would’ve remembered him if they’d crossed paths before.
An almost meditative shadow passed across Louis’ face.
“He knows a lot of it.”
“Are you and he…?”
Louis blew smoke over his shoulder. “Lovers? Again with the questions.”
“Sorry. Can’t help it, I guess. I’m curious.”
“As a writer ought to be.” Louis nodded to the left, explaining they should turn at the intersection to jump southwest a couple blocks.
“So,” Daniel said, “if you don’t want to talk about yourself, what do you want to talk about? Or, we could not talk.”
Louis looked him over and ashed his cigarette, exhaling smoke through his nose. He transferred his cigarette to his mouth and slid his hands into his pockets, continuing to smoke handsfree. There was no possible way he could’ve known that Daniel unfailingly got the hots for this particular smoker’s flourish. Just last weekend at a show at Winterland, Daniel found himself standing next to an objectively handsome man smoking in the exact same way. It distracted Daniel so much that he ponied up for a drink at the venue bar, just to relax enough to focus on the band he came to see.
“Let’s talk about you,” Louis said, finally removing his cigarette from his mouth. “What do you do when you’re not profiling the city’s citizens and miscreants? Do you like dancing?”
“Not really, if I’m being honest. I go to clubs though.”
“What kinds of clubs?” Louis asked with an edge of a smile, like he already knew the answer. Again, Daniel couldn’t decide if it was irritating or charming.
“What kinds of clubs do you think I go to?” Daniel countered.
“Damn, you really can’t last a minute without posing a question,” Louis said in mock exasperation. “Is this what I’m in for, an interrogation?”
“Sorry, sorry. I’m serious, though,” he insisted, realizing as he spoke that he was being sincere. “Sometimes I don’t have a good handle on how other people read me. Like, sure, I’m some schmuck with a tape deck, but what kind of schmuck? It gets under my skin sometimes. You know what I mean?”
Louis took a drag of his cigarette. The tip glowed a red beacon in the dark.
“I’m familiar with the feeling.”
Daniel adjusted his bag, unexpectedly relieved. Even though Louis could be a little cagey, he was cool to talk to. Maybe if tonight didn’t blow up in Daniel’s face, he could say “see you around” and mean it.
“Let’s help each other out, then, so to speak,” Louis said. “For example, how old do you think I am?”
“I dunno, maybe—”
“No hedging,” Louis said. “Just your honest first impression.”
“Twenty-five, then. Maybe twenty-six or twenty-seven.”
“See,” Louis said, waving his hand. “Illuminating. Now you.”
What the fuck did Daniel want to know? Louis’ expression was an open invitation. Daniel was still trying to tease out what Louis meant by vampire. Maybe it was a sex thing or permafry or some niche Esalen sect. It could be that Louis was just a landlord, though that would be kind of a letdown.
Daniel shelved the riddle for the time being, instead pulling the first question that came to mind.
“What do I look like I do for a living?”
“Talk to people,” Louis said easily. Catching Daniel’s wary eye, he added, “I’m being serious. Now it’s my turn. You already clocked my accent—cause apparently I got one—so where do you think I lived just before here? I’ll give you a hint: I’ve traveled around a lot.”
Daniel considered this. He could just as easily picture Louis at a club in Chicago as a cafe in Cairo.
“How about Tijuana.”
“How about it,” Louis said. “Hey, can I get another cigarette?”
“Sure.”
It was the least Daniel could do after Louis’ generosity at the bar, and he certainly didn’t mind holding the flame to the tip of Louis’ cigarette. Louis looked up as it ignited, a playful smile in his eyes.
“Thanks,” he said around his cigarette. “Your turn.”
Daniel dropped what remained of his own cigarette, ground it underfoot, and reached for a fresh one. His pack was almost empty; he’d been smoking lavishly tonight. He chalked it up as a business expense.
Without meeting Louis’ gaze, and trying not to look like he was avoiding it, Daniel said, “Do I look like I have a girlfriend?”
Louis easily could have made jab about how a few short hours ago they’d met at a gay bar where the bartender recognized Daniel, which wasn’t a particularly solid foundation upon which to stake one’s heterosexuality. Instead, Louis’ voice was warm and good-natured.
“Not currently.”
“Well, do I look like I have a boyfriend, then?”
Louis lifted a shoulder. “Not currently. We’re left on Fillmore up here.”
“So, what you’re saying is, I look like a sad bachelor.”
“We both know I didn’t say that. You’re a fact-checker, Daniel—you do the math.”
“I didn’t tell you I was a fact-checker,” Daniel said, though he wouldn’t bet his life on it. Maybe he’d mentioned it at the bar and forgot. There were certainly a few times when keeping eye contact with Louis and forming complete, let alone clever, sentences felt like hefty multitasking.
“Well,” Louis said dismissively, “you seem like a well-rounded journalist to me.”
They passed a compact city market, little more than a glorified convenience store that nevertheless advertised fresh groceries. All at once, Daniel recalled that no, his last time getting laid hadn’t been that co-op girl. More recently he’d slept with his ex-roommate’s ex-girlfriend, though they’d known each other long enough Daniel knew he should really just call her his friend. They’d been exhausted after a late-night drive back from Humboldt and landed at her place, shot up, undressed, and made out. In the morning, they had sex. Daniel remembered because they made fried eggs for breakfast and one of the eggs had two yolks. She said it meant they’d have a lucky week. Daniel couldn’t remember whether or not she’d been right.
At Louis’ wordless direction they turned again, heading west.
“Not too far now,” Louis said.
The neighborhood here was thick with Victorian-style houses, many with multiple letterboxes drilled to the stoops. More often than not, the paint was peeling in several places, giving the decorative facades a soft-worn quality, and the warped glass of the bay windows offered cursive reflections of the powerlines and occasional trees. Daniel knew just enough about architecture to know ‘Victorian’ was an imprecise descriptor—some of these were probably Italianate, Edwardian, or Whatever Revival—but he didn’t need to know the nuances to find even the shabbiest among them genuinely beautiful. Wherever he encountered their grimy faces around the city, it felt like home.
“I don’t mind the walk,” Daniel said. “Since it’s almost over, you want to try me for any last first impressions? I mean, before we get to know each other better.”
Louis studied him with a languid expression.
“Do I look like I’ve killed someone?” Louis asked.
Icy adrenaline emulsified with liquid hot desire at the top of Daniel’s stomach. It made him want to laugh. That was a hell of a thing to say to someone you were about to invite up to your apartment! Daniel had half a mind to tell Louis as much, just to be cheeky, but again those luminescent dance floor eyes caught him as forcefully as if Louis had him pinned up against a wall. If this was some kind of test, Daniel didn’t care. Where Louis led tonight, he would follow.
After a beat, Daniel said, “What kind of vampire would you be if you didn’t kill people?”
Louis broke into a wild, vicious grin that Daniel recognized from the bar. Daniel couldn’t help smiling in return.
“I’ve known more than a few who would agree with you,” Louis said. “Here’s Divisadero. I’m a couple blocks up.”
Daniel was plenty warm from their walk, but something about the bay window curtains illuminated from within reminded him that he was outside in the cold. It seemed to magnify Louis’ warm presence beside him.
“I hope you’ve got plenty of tape,” Louis said. He cast a sidelong look at Daniel. “This might take all night.”
“I’ve got all night,” Daniel replied. Louis’ eyes on him felt like a belly full of wine, heady and fragrant, turning any and every touch feverish and sanguine.
“Good,” Louis said with the edge of a smile. “Let’s do this right.”