Indiana Writer's Center, Intro to Speculative Fiction
The main character must experience: losing someone, a heartache that’s not related to prior, and express a main desire that is just out of their reach.
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2020
2020
"Dead End"
"Dead End"
The neon sign in front of the dirty brick building was the only sound on Bedburg Street.
Bzzzt.
The glowing heart buzzed out of existence and blinked on again with weak pink light. “Uncanny Attractions” lit up in red beneath it. Alicia licked papery lips as she read the sign. Her destination was here. She zipped the fringed suede jacket, pushed her bright silver frames up her nose, and stepped into the lobby.
The receptionist smiled. An extra sharp canine added a less-than-friendly element to the expression.
“Are you meeting or making an appointment?” he asked.
“Meeting. Johnathon Weber is the name,” Alicia answered. She shoved her hands into dark blue jeans.
“Very good. Your match is already here. Please wait in the lobby for your escort.”
Alicia nodded. Her own smile was more a shaky twitch of lips. She sat on a black leather sofa and clicked on the front camera of her phone to check her over-gelled brown curls and hastily donned makeup.
Good enough.
The receptionist returned quickly, two men in matching gray suits on his heels. Each had the grip of a huge pistol blatantly poking from their jackets.
“Right this way, miss.” The receptionist motioned towards the men before sitting back down at the desk.
Alicia’s eyes widened. She blinked and let out a slow, silent breath as she stood, following the two broad backs down the hallway striped with salmon-colored, retro wallpaper. When they reached the door at the end, they stepped inside the room without knocking, flanking it instead. Their eyes locked on the man seated at the plain square table in the middle of the white-walled room. Alicia gritted her teeth, walking towards the table and extending her hand.
“Alicia Cruz,” she greeted, unsure what else to say.
The man stood. Alicia was not a short woman, but he was at least a half foot taller. He took her hand and shook it gently. For some reason, she expected a peck on the back of it, like in a movie.
“Johnathon. A pleasure.”
He waited for her to sit before sitting himself.
“Is it always a double date?” Alicia asked, glancing at the two men at the door. Johnathon chuckled.
“Indeed. Client protection is important here. Or this place would go out of business fast. This leads me to ask why you amicably find yourself in the same room as a monster?”
Alicia pressed her lips together. “Right off the bat, huh?” She felt her cheeks buzz with warmth. “Umm. That was…not a joke or anything…God.”
Johnathon’s brows lifted, and he grinned. Hazel eyes. Lips rose pink against ash skin and blue veins. “Gentleman, please call service.”
Neither of the guards answered, but one pushed a white button next to what appeared to be the light switch. Johnathon paid them no mind and watched Alicia, blinking rhythmically.
She took a breath and laced her fingers together on the table.
“I’m going to be straight with you,” she responded. “I’m here for another reason.”
All pleasantness had melted from Johnathon before he had leaned fully back in his chair. “Ah, I see. Well then, what is it? A pint of my blood to sell? A weird threesome with your significant other? Or… a small bite on the throat?”
Alicia’s mouth fell open before she huffed a soft chuckle. “What? No! None of that!”
A waiter in a black collared shirt and white suspenders entered the room. He looked between the two.
“Your orders?” He asked.
“A snifter of gibbon’s blood,” Johnathon responded, tone short. Alicia tried not to snort with nervous laughter.
I suppose he cannot handle being laughed at. “Any IPA you’ve got, no preference.”
After the waiter left, Johnathon pulled his chair closer to Alicia. She tensed as the wood screeched across the tile floor, that unwavering gaze causing her to hold her breath.
“I am looking for a match with a mortal,” he said pointedly as he sat back down, straightening his velvet sports coat. “I want this for reasons I will discuss with someone willing to accept it. I am not looking for other arrangements.”
His nearness attested to that statement, no warmth between the small distance. Alicia had insulted him, and the displeasure was palpable.
“I understand that. And I also know you as an ally to mortals, so I sought you out.” Alicia’s heart began to thump. Her hands shook. “I am looking for another vamp, and I hope you can lead me to them.”
Johnathon rolled his eyes. “And why am I interested in your play at detective?”
“Because I need to find them. They…they…murdered someone important to me. And got away with it because of who they are.” Alicia felt tears pricking her eyes and cursed herself, looking downward. “I have no expectations for this meeting. However, every other road has led me nowhere, so I will keep trying.”
Johnathon didn’t say anything at first, then a weary sigh popped the tense bubble. He stood.
“I have a heart, Ms. Cruz. But your situation sounds far too… interesting for my tastes.”
Alicia squeezed her eyes shut and didn’t respond. Johnathon left first, the guards trailing behind him.
Another dead end.
Clinking on the table caused Alicia to look up. The waiter had left her pint of beer on the wooden table, along with a white business card.
Your ale is on me was scrawled carefully on the back of Johnathon Weber’s contact info.
“As if I’d contact a damn tick like you again,” she mumbled around the rim of the pint glass before knocking it back in three large gulps.
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