PART XIV: MAX

I wait inside a pharmacy across the street from Howe’s Books for what seems like forever. I watch as the policeman talks to Catherine. Something about the way he moves makes me believe his visit is more personal than business. From where I’m standing, I can’t see her, but I can see him. He appears oddly coquettish as he rolls back and forth on his feet.

The policeman exits the store, and Catherine locks the door behind him. For the next hour, I wait inside the pharmacy and watch Howe’s Books through a window. The policeman walks up and down the street. At one point he comes into the pharmacy and chats with the clerk. I hide my face behind a magazine.

After an hour, Catherine exits the store. Keeping a good distance away, I leave the pharmacy and follow on foot from the opposite side of the street. A car comes toward me. I turn and look at an illuminated window display of a mannequin family. In the glass’ reflection, I watch as a police cruiser passes behind me. The officer driving the car slows and looks in my direction. I don’t dare approach Catherine as I’m sure the police officer is never far, ensuring that she gets home safely.

I follow my sister into a suburban neighborhood. The deeper we go, the further apart the houses become. Cars pass periodically. A small white car pulls up next to her and stops. Catherine looks in the passenger side window. I hide behind a large bush, watching as she talks to the driver before opening the door of the vehicle. The interior light in the car goes on, and I see a black woman driving with a young black boy in the passenger seat. The boy gets out of the small car and slides into the back. Catherine gets in next to the driver and shuts the door.

The car takes a left down a residential street. I cut through a yard in order to keep up. When the vehicle comes to a stop, the driver puts her right turn signal on. In order to shorten the distance between myself and the car, I run. The vehicle turns right, then proceeds down another long residential road. I again cut through a yard in order that I don’t lose sight of the car. It slows and takes another left before disappearing.

I tire of running and slow to a jog, then a fast walk. While being a vampire has gifted me with strength, quick reflexes, and sharpened senses, contrary to some fictitious representations, this curse didn’t provide me with increased speed or stamina. After a time, I consider that I may have lost sight of the car entirely, but then I recognize the vehicle parked in the driveway of a two-story brown house with a large backyard.

There’s a fenced-in area around the back of the home and woods behind that. The lights are on inside, and through the windows on the first floor I see Catherine and the woman and the boy in the living room. I climb a tree on the other side of the street and watch for a while until it starts to shower. The rain begins to pick up, saturating my new coat and hat. Catherine’s visitors show no sign of departing any time soon. I climb down from the tree and leave the neighborhood, taking note of the name of the street.

I walk out of the suburban neighborhood. Under a streetlamp, I count the money left in my pocket. The rain is now relentless. I flag down a passing taxi. The cab pulls over, and I get in next to the driver.

“Where to?” He asks.

“The nearest motel,” I say.

The taxi pulls into the parking lot adjacent to a long, red, single-story building consisting of approximately twelve rooms. A sign outside reads The Happy Porter. I pay the driver and walk over to the office. The night auditor behind the desk is watching television. When I walk in, she picks up a small black box, points it at the TV, pushes a button, and the screen goes black. I pay for a room, and she hands me a key. As I’m walking past the row of doors toward my room, the driver side window of a silver car slides down, and a black man motions for me to come closer. I approach and look through the window. The smell inside is a mix of cigarettes and perfume.

“You a cop?” He asks.

“No.”

“You staying in one of these rooms for the night?”

“Yes.”

“You looking for some company?” The man asks, sitting back in his chair and turning on the car’s inside light so I can see his passenger.

I look across the man. Sitting next to the driver is a young, short, pretty woman with black hair that comes down just below her ears. She has heavy eye makeup and lipstick. Under a jean jacket, she’s wearing a half-shirt that reveals a pale, flat stomach. “Show him, baby,” the black man says. The woman pulls her small denim skirt up over her thighs. She’s wearing a pair of white undergarments. She smiles at me as she chews gum. The man in the driver’s seat takes out a cigarette and lights it.

“Interested?” The pimp asks.

“Yes,” I say.

“Two hundred for an hour.”

“How much for the entire night?”

“Two grand,” he says.

I take out my wad of cash and pull off twenty one hundred dollar bills and hand it to him through the window. He counts the money and nods.

“She’ll knock five times. I’ll be back to pick her up just before the sun rises,” the man says before putting up the window of his car.

I unlock the door to my room, switch on the light, and walk inside. The carpet is dark green, and the walls are wood-paneled. The curtains have been pulled shut. There are two paintings on the wall above the bed. One of the paintings depicts a large sailing vessel on a calm ocean. The other is of a man and a woman on horseback. I take my coat off and hang it on a hook on the back of the door.

In the corner of the room is a small table and a single chair. I switch on a lamp near the table, sit down in the chair, and take off my shoes and socks and remove the hat and wig. I’m hungry. My dinner will be here shortly.

There are five knocks at the door. I stand and walk slowly across the room. Five more knocks are heard. I open the door, and the short prostitute enters. She’s still chewing gum.

“Take a shower, then put on your undergarments and come to bed,” I say.

“Undergarments?” She asks, smiling. “You mean my bra and panties?” I don’t say anything. “Okay,” she says, walking into the bathroom and shutting the door.

I hear the shower running. I pick up a pen on the table in the corner of the room, and on a small notepad I write down the street name and number of Catherine’s home. I take the remaining money out of my pocket and count it. I open the drawer on the nightstand. Inside is a bible. I open the front cover of the book, put the cash inside, then replace it in the nightstand drawer and shut it. I remove my pants and leave them on the floor. I slide into the bed, propping myself up on two pillows.

The shower stops running. I hear movement in the bathroom and a towel being used. A moment later, the door opens and the young prostitute walks into the room. Her hair is damp. She’s wearing white panties and a pink bra that covers two small breasts.

“Stand over by the table,” I say. She walks across the room in her bare feet, then turns to face me. She looks down at the pad of paper that I’ve written Catherine’s address on. “Turn off the light and get into bed.”

She shuts the lamp off and slides into the bed next to me. She reaches over and touches my chest. I grab her wrist. She gasps. “No,” I say. She takes her hand back and lies still.

I wait patiently in the dark for her to fall asleep. I want a quick and clean kill. This meal is the equivalent of a squirrel wandering into a lion’s cage and falling asleep in the beast’s furry mane. Easy. She’s lying on her side with her back to me. From the shape of the sheet, I can tell where her shoulder is. I slide myself close and put my arm completely over her body. With my other hand, I slowly slide my fingers up through the back of her still-damp hair. In one swift movement, I grip her hair hard, yanking her head back while simultaneously pulling her body next to mine. I bite down hard on her neck. She breathes in sharply, but before she can realize what’s happening, I’ve already taken her life. She quickly loses consciousness as I feed, greedily sucking and swallowing every last drop of the hot, metallic stickiness. Her skin tastes clean, and she smells like the motel room soap and shampoo. When I’m finished feeding, I lie back on the bed, feeling full and content.

Outside, the rain is still coming down. I slide out of bed and take a shower. When I’m done, I pick up the prostitute’s denim jacket from the floor of the bathroom, walk back into the bedroom, and throw it over her head.

I use the black box on the nightstand to turn on the TV. I stare at the screen all night, watching and listening. I feel simultaneously alienated and exhausted by the amount of information.

I pick up the jacket and push the prostitute’s corpse out of the bed and onto the floor. I go through the young woman’s things. In the prostitute’s jacket, I find: a pack of gum, a small switchblade knife, three condoms, and a small mirror. I toss the jacket onto the dead whore lying between the wall and the bed.

***

Just before the sun comes up, the pimp begins to pound on the door to the room. I ignore him. “Hey! Time’s up, playboy!” He shouts. I turn the volume on the TV up. He continues to bang. Finally, he kicks the door in. “What the fuck is going on in here?” He says as he struts into the room. “I ought to charge you another day for keeping my girl so long. Where is she?”

I can see through the open door that the rain has stopped. The sun will be up soon. I turn off the TV, get out of the bed, and walk across the room completely naked. The wood around the lock and doorknob is splintered, but the hinges are still intact. I shut the door as best I can.

The pimp sees his whore on the floor between the bed and the wall, her jacket thrown hastily on top of her body, her bare feet sticking out from underneath it.

“Get up, bitch,” The man says, grabbing the corpse by its ankles and dragging it into the center of the room. “Fuck,” he says upon seeing her pale visage. He squats down next to her and starts slapping her face. “Fuckin’ OD’d,” he says. “What the fuck did she take?”

I don’t say anything. Instead, I reach down, grab the pimp’s head in my hands, and twist it fast, snapping his neck and killing him instantly. His body falls onto its side next to the prostitute.

I go through the pimp’s clothes. In his pockets I find: keys, cash, a small glass vial of white powder, leather gloves, and a phone. I push a button on the device and an image lights up under the glass. The phone begins playing music. It bothers me. I open the door to the room and throw the phone into the street.

I close the door and get back into the bed, falling asleep with my arms across my chest. In the late afternoon, I’m woken by the sounds of a maid going from room to room, knocking on the doors. I get out of bed and put on my clothes from the night before, including the hat and wig, adding the pimp’s gloves. I put the keys to the pimp’s car along with the notepad with Catherine’s address on it in my coat pocket. For a moment I consider the cash I’d put inside the bible. Something tells me I won’t be needing it. I wait next to the door for the maid to knock, the switchblade open and at the ready.

“Housekeeping!” Says a slightly accented female voice.

The woman pushes the broken door to the room open. The sunlight from outside pours onto the carpet and over the corpses. The maid begins to scream. I grab her arm and pull her into the room. I hold the knife to her throat and cover her mouth. I walk with her outside.

The sun’s rays burn the back of my exposed neck as I move with the woman over to the pimp’s car. I sandwich the maid between myself and the passenger side of the vehicle as I dig around in my coat pocket for the keys. I take them out and hand them to her.

“Open the door,” I command. Over my shoulder I can smell my exposed flesh burning in the sun.

She opens the passenger side door, and I push her in. I keep the open switchblade at her throat and force her to slide over the gear shift and into the driver’s seat. She’s crying as I hand her the keys and tell her to start the engine. Through the windshield, I see an old man staring at us from between the curtains of his room, a device to his ear. As soon as he notices me looking back, he pulls the curtains closed.