WwolfeWideAwake

Disclaimer: Characters and situations related to BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER are the property of others. No copyright infringement is intended or implied. But it won't matter if you sue, because Wwolfe isn't some kid that'll fold like a house of cards, he's the legal counsel for the DarkSide, the Devil's Mouthpiece, the real lawyer from Hell. So go ahead. Do your worst. If you dare. Bwa Ha Ha!

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The evening had not turned out the way she'd planned it. She'd been happy to get the job as "Third Girl from the Left" in the new Everclear video, although after the 23rd take it was no longer necessary for the director to instruct her to "Look bored." When afternoon break came, she had been walking gingerly on her stiletto heels, which were admirably fulfilling their function as torture devices disguised as footwear, when she bumped into someone. A someone who was something close to Someone, as it turned out. He was, he explained over coffee, a rising young executive in the Artists & Repertoire division of Capitol Records, the very record label in whose famous building on Hollywood Boulevard the video was being shot. When he asked her out on a date for that evening, Cordelia had been happy to accept. Show biz was show biz, she had thought, and maybe this was opportunity knocking. The fact that he was reasonably good looking didn't hurt - although she knew that, above a certain level, it was a contractual obligation for anyone in the entertainment industry to be at least reasonably good looking.

That was at three o'clock in the afternoon. Now, shortly after midnight, she wished opportunity would shut up and go away. She and Mr. Wonderful were seated at a table in the Roxy, the famous music venue on Sunset Strip, listening to the four millionth band of the night, each named after some portentous reference to death. Her sternum ached from the vibrations produced by the overamplified bass drum, her eyes stung from the cigarette smoke, and if her head would simply explode it would end the pain caused by an endless torrent of discordant, wailing guitar thrash. And there was the ambience. The word that kept coming into Cordelia's mind was "scuzz," along with variations of the same: scuzzish, scuzz-like, and oh-so-very-scuzzy. The walls, floors, and tables were all painted a uniform shade of charred black, which had the texture of graphite and the aroma of...well, many things she didn't want to consider. She sat with both hands clasped on her purse, because she was pretty sure she'd catch some terrible disease if she were to touch anything else in the place. She desperately, achingly wanted to go home. And to kill her date. He had turned out to be nothing more than a glorified talent scout, sent to the Roxy to check out hot new bands. She was, Cordelia now understood, the Fashion Accessory necessary to complete any bright young exec's ensemble. With a bitter laugh, she realized that she was still playing "Third Girl from the Left." At least she wasn't wearing the stiletto heels.

Leading her backstage after the latest band finished its set, he took her to a dressing room - which, Cordelia noted, managed to smell even worse than the main room - where he introduced himself to the lead guitar player. The two men struck up a conversation typifying the business which employed them: shiny admiration on the surface, contempt and suspicion bubbling underneath. Eventually, after the other members of the band drifted off, they got down to serious business. It seemed that her date saw something in the lead guitarist's band that escaped her, and he wanted to work out the details of a serious development offer. Right away. Because, of course, all the other record labels might suddenly discover their dangerous shortage of sucky bands, and rush right over to snap up this one. It was now nearly 2:30 a.m., and Cordelia wanted to go home even more than she wanted a return of her father's long-lost Platinum Visa Card, but her date promised to call her a cab from the guitarist's apartment. "Don't worry," he assured her. "I can write it off." Cordelia fumed. "Great," she thought. "Now I'm a tax deduction."

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"So, what kind of a career do you think we can have, man?" asked the lead guitarist. "I mean, how long do you think we can stick around?" Her date kept that good grease coming. "Oh, your a ten-year band, no doubt," he said. "We get your sound worked out, hook you up with the right producer, get you the right video team - you're gonna kick some serious music business butt." The lead guitarist thought for a moment, then said, "You know, Springsteen's been around for a quarter of a century now - I like the sound of that." Her date hesitated, but then rallied. "Hey, man - the Boss! You know what I mean?" Cordelia didn't think that even her date knew what he meant, but the lead guitarist didn't seem to mind. "And Chuck Berry," he continued, almost to himself. "He's been around more than 40 years." Her date appeared flummoxed by this statement, saying "Uh, that's a little before my time, you know...," before the lead guitarist cut him off. "I bet I could outlast ol' Chuck," he said, smiling. "Doncha think?" Her date had no response, but Cordelia did. "Oh, crap," she said. The lead guitarist stood, saying, "Let me show you my collected works - my curriculum vitae, if you will." Carrying a box from the closet and setting it on the couch, he said, "Or perhaps 'Less than vitae' would be more accurate."

Cordelia groaned, "Oh, man!" The two men looked at her. "Do all you undead types have to take the same class in lame-o humor?" she asked. "It's like, 'Suck blood, become ironic'." The lead guitarist smiled again. "I see your lady friend is the one with the real eye for talent," he said to her date, whose clueless expression changed to comprehension only when Cordelia's exasperation finally caused her to exclaim, "Duh, Mr. Rising Young Executive - your Number One With a Bullet here is a vampire!"

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The next several hours were devoted to the vampire's lovingly detailed description of his long, long career in rock and roll. He had been, to use his phrase, "present at the creation" - the very first rock and roll death: Johnny Ace, backstage at the City Auditorium in Houston, Texas, Christmas Eve, 1954. The papers had said Ace died while playing Russian Roulette, and in a sense they hadn't been lying. Ace had suspected for some time that his new employee, a remarkably strong roadie whose habit was to show up only for evening gigs, was a danger to him. He hadn't been sure what would happen, but he'd felt a sense of doom surrounding his thoughts for some time prior to the end.

"Forever, my darling
My love will be true
Always and forever
I'll love just you
Just promise me, darling
Your love in return
Make this fire in my soul, dear
Forever burn"

The vampire had a surprisingly affecting singing voice, and as he sang the words of Johnny Ace's most famous song, "Pledging My Love" - eyes shut, arms held away from his body as he leaned back slightly - he seemed momentarily transported. He stopped and remained still for a moment. "Man, I hated when KRLA stopped playing oldies," he said. "They were the only station in town that played that song."

He'd given them a tour backwards in time through his career as a never-quite-famous musician. ("I always made sure to quit the band if we had any success," he said. "Or I'd just kill the record executive who signed us, and the label would drop us.") There was the album on SubPop Records showing he and his bandmates, all wearing flannel shirts and dour expressions, standing in front of a dumpster scrawled with the graffito, "Grunge Rock Sucks!" The band, Falling Lines, was unknown to Cordelia, as was the album, "Wires Are Down." The vampire shrugged. "We released that a week after Kurt Cobain bought the farm," he said. "It was the kiss of death." He smiled. "And I mean that literally," he said. "Cobain's the last famous one I did." The vampire almost shivered. "There's nothing like famous blood - man, you tingle for a week," he said.

There was the cheap-looking four-song EP by the mid-1980's Hollywood hair band, Sukkitt Kitty, called "Yeah, Baby...You Know You Want It!!" The vampire looked a little embarrassed. "I never did drink anyone from that scene - I mean, I've got my standards," he said, looking a little sheepish. "I did help the lead singer tie off the night he OD'd, though - that's something, at least," he added. "Man, he was a terrible singer."

"I did Sid and Nancy," he said proudly. That was when he was playing in a punk band called The Maxwell Smarts, who'd played as a supporting act a few times at CBGB's, and managed to release one single, "You're No Fun (And I'm So Bored)", before falling apart. "It was almost a mercy doing those two," he said. "They could not get through the day without a disaster - I made sure they stayed famous."

He explained how, after Johnny Ace, he'd specialized in picking off a successful but not really famous performer every few years. He'd gotten Jesse Belvin and Billy Stewart ("Fake car wrecks always work," he said), and Rudy Lewis from the Drifters ("A black gay junkie - can you imagine how unhappy he was? Have you heard 'Up On the Roof'? Oh, his blood was as sweet as his voice - made me almost cry when I drank him," the vampire whispered). He laughed as he described doing Bobby Fuller. "I drank him, then - just to see how completely full of crap people were willing to be - I poured gasoline down his mouth," he said. "And they declared it suicide!!" The vampire cackled with laughter. "Oh, man, I loved that," he said.

The vampire described how much he enjoyed Swinging London ("Those mini-skirts - could not get enough of 'em," he said). He released one obscure single, "Why Are There No Birds In My Sky?", as a member of The Elegant Hangman, but he became disenchanted when the scene slid downhill after 1967. Finally, he decided to "go after the big game," as he put it, starting with Brian Jones of the Rolling Stones in July of 1969. The water in the pool where the authorities found Jones the next morning ("Accidental drowning" was the official word) turned a pleasant shade of pink, according to the vampire. Emboldened by his success, he went for broke - "the trifecta," in his words: Joplin, Hendrix Morrison - boom, boom, boom, just like that. Then, he hesitated, shaken by his own actions. And, as with any pop figure, hesitation ruined him. His streak ended, and he retired for a time.

But he came back. "That man lived more like a vampire than a vampire does," he said. He worked his way into the Inner Sanctum ("I dug the Jungle Room," he smiled), until the moment came. "They put a stake through his heart a long time before I got to him," the vampire said. "So they can never kill him now."

When the vampire's story ended, Cordelia's date found that for once he had no glib comment. He remembered John Lennon's famous remark, "The Beatles are bigger than Jesus." Yes, he thought, but the vampire was bigger than the Beatles ("I didn't do Lennon," the vampire had said. "That twerp who did it was a punk. Too public. No style.").

The vampire turned away from the rapt attention of his fellow music business professional and said to Cordelia, "And now, my dear, I shall take great pleasure in you joining me for dinner." But Cordelia was gone. The vampire looked at Cordelia's date. "Not again," he sighed.

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Cordelia got off the 320 RTD bus at Wilshire and Flower and walked a block to the cab stand at the Hilton. It would cost her a few bucks, but at this point she just wanted to get home. As the cab drove through the empty streets of downtown Los Angeles toward the warehouse district where Angel's office was located, it occurred to her again that there were worse things than not working in show business. Although she was tempted to call in sick after checking on things at the office, she decided that she would go in for the second day of the video shoot anyway. She could use the money. Besides, she didn't think she needed to worry about last night's date showing up at work today.

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Epilogue

In case you wondered who some of the people were who I mentioned in the story:

Johnny Ace: Rhythm and blues singer whose most famous hit, "Pledging My Love," reached #17 on the the pop charts in February 1955, two months after his death during a game of Russian Roulette on December 24, 1954.

Jesse Belvin: Singer/songwriter in Los Angeles in the 1950's. Co-wrote "Earth Angel" for the Penguins, and had hits under his own name with "Goodnight, My Love" and "Guess Who." Died in a car wreck on February 2, 1960.

Rudy Lewis: Lead singer of the Drifters on "Up On the Roof," "On Broadway," and many others. Found dead of a heroin overdose in his apartment on the morning that the group was supposed to record "Under the Boardwalk." Later that day, the group recorded "I Don't Want to Go On Without You," with second tenor Charlie Thomas singing the lead vocal.

Bobby Fuller: Bobby and his band, the Bobby Fuller Four, came out of El Paso, Texas in 1966 with the hits, "I Fought the Law" and "Love's Made a Fool of You," as well as the glorious "Let Her Dance" and "Never to Be Forgotten." He was found dead in the front seat of his Mustang in Los Angeles on July 16, 1966. He had been beaten about the face and neck and gasoline had been poured down his throat. The coroner ruled it a suicide. The more likely story is that the mobster from whom Bobby had borrowed money for his band's equipment had ordered a hit on the singer when he failed to repay the debt in a timely manner.

Brian Jones: Rhythm guitar player and founder of the Rolling Stones. Found dead in his pool on July 3, 1969, one week after he had quit the band. An asthma sufferer, the coroner theorized that Jones's drowning had been caused by an attack while swimming. In 2000, a man in England confessed on his death bed that he had murdered Jones for unspecified reasons.

Jimi Hendrix: Noted guitar player. Took an accidental overdose of barbiturates on September 18, 1970 in London, England. The paramedics who came for him strapped him onto a gurney in the back of the ambulance, leading to his death from asphyxiation when he got sick to his stomach en route to the hospital.

Janis Joplin: Noted singer. Died of a heroin overdose in Los Angeles, on October 4, 1970.

Jim Morrison: Lead singer of the Doors. After years of alcoholism, his heart stopped while he was sitting in his bathtub in his apartment in Paris on July 3, 1971.

Elvis Presley: Died of heart failure in his home in Memphis, Tennessee on August 16, 1977.

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