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"I'm pickin' up good vibrations…"

"Good Vibrations" - Beach boys

Looking back, I can't believe how long it took for me to figure Buddy out.

It happened like this: I'd spent the morning with Buddy and his gang at the beach. I enjoyed the surf and the companionship, but somehow I always felt just a little left out-like I wasn't really part of the crowd, you know? I'd drifted down the beach a ways, scuffing along in the wavelets in search of a little quiet time, and who should I see toting a board across the sand but Dexter, the musical genius of the band, the "Grave Diggers." He was wearing nothing but flip-flops and board shorts, his dark brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, and it was easy to see why I hadn't given him a lot of attention before. His face was longish and plain, nose thin and lips narrow, his eyes a dishwater blue. He was a couple of inches taller than me and not really what you'd call skinny, but he wasn't muscular either-just a tall guy with an ordinary sort of build. What made him stand out today was that he looked over at me like the kids up on the boardwalk looked at ice cream cones. That was new and different, and I smiled and headed his way. When he noticed I'd seen him, he took off, almost running, but the board slowed him down and I caught up.

"Hey, Dex," I said, all innocent and chummy.

"Uh," he responded. "Hi, Evan." He stopped and let the board lean over in the sand.

"I didn't know you surfed." It was a nice, well kept, older board; looked like it had seen some use.

"Uh, yeah," he said, looking away from me toward the ocean. "I catch a wave when I can."

"Yeah?" I got closer, close enough to "accidentally" brush my shoulder against his arm. His face turned to me and there it was again, that hungry look I knew so well. "I was just about to head back, Dex, how about you?"

He looked down, but there was nothing to see except sand. "Uh, aren't you here with Buddy?"

"I came with him." I smiled and let the double meaning sink in for a second, then twisted in an effort to look at the back of my swimsuit. "But I don't seem to have his brand on my ass. I can leave when I feel like it. Besides, I'm hungry. They sell hot dogs here somewhere?"

Dex agreed that they did, and we found a little stand and had a couple of dogs, some chips and sodas together under a big umbrella. Dex didn't fidget much while we were eating; he only flinched if I suddenly moved in his direction. He'd never acted weird around me when the band was playing, but of course, we were alone now. Discretion. I grinned. Message received.

"Where you headed?" I asked him.

"Uh… home, I guess…." he muttered, studying ketchup stains on the tabletop.

"Yeah?" I said. "Can I catch a ride?" I'd never seen a guy blush quite that shade of red.

Dex's car was an honest-to-god woody. It looked so new it could have rolled off the assembly line yesterday, white-wall tires and all, and he treated it like the treasure it was, making sure his board was dry and free of every single grain of sand before he loaded it onto the custom roof rack. An auto-phile I ain't, but I could appreciate a work of art when I saw one. I complimented him on his "baby" and made sure to treat her with respect.

In that vein, we both hit the showers to wash off salt and sand. Dex had a change of clothes in the car, but all I had was my suit. The rest of my stuff was still with Buddy's gang, and no way was I going back to fetch it. Dex did have two towels though, and I rode shotgun wearing just the spare one wrapped around my waist. Dex's jeans did little to hide the fact that he was pretty hot and bothered by the time we made it to town.

"You want me to drop you at the Affair?" he asked, his voice an octave deeper than I remembered it.

"If it's okay with you, I'd kind of like to see your place," I said, giving him a friendly grin with just a hint of more in it.

His face lit up and he echoed my smile. "You would?"

"I would," I replied, and deliberately placed one hand on his knee. The car swerved a little but steadied again and we stayed safely on the road.

I knew Dex and the other band members had rooms at Phillip Drackett's place, like I did, but Dex drove on and finally parked in the driveway of a nice little duplex in a residential neighborhood, where he got out and opened the garage to stash his board. Used to the small and crowded apartment houses in New York City, I was impressed with the flower beds and the little patch of lawn.

Inside was nice too, a living/dining room combo and two bedrooms with a bath between. In back was a small flagstone patio complete with table, chairs, and barbeque grill. Real California living.

"Wow," I said. "Nice." My towel was slipping, and I reached down to adjust it. About then I realized that Dex's attention was more on my ass than what I was saying. I smiled to myself. "You lived here long?" I asked, never above prolonging the anticipation.

"No," he said distractedly, "just a couple years, since I was turned."

That made me stop and think. I'd heard similar comments about "turning" from Buddy's friends and still had no idea what they were talking about. Now was my chance to find out.

"Turned?" I said. "Into what?"

Dex went white. And I mean white. He looked like he might pass out, so I went over and put an arm around his waist to steady him. His eyes met mine, and then he had both arms around me, and we made it to the floor at about the same time. His cock was long and thin and very hard. Unbuttoning his jeans was easy enough, and losing my towel was easier than telling about it. He kissed me hard, and I knew at once that this was not his first time with a guy.

"So," I said, a couple of hours later, "what is this 'turning' business?"

Somewhere along the line we'd made it to his bed, and were relaxing in the cool breeze from the open window. "You really mean Buddy hasn't told you?" he said.

"Told me what, for god's sake?" I said, a little irritated in spite of our relaxing activities.

"That we're vampires," he blurted.

"Huh?" I said brightly.

"Vampires," he repeated, and before I could call him a lunatic he opened his mouth and a couple of long, sharp fangs slid into view.

I'd love to have a Polaroid picture of my expression right then… or maybe I wouldn't.

"Vampires," I parroted. Dex nodded earnestly, and I watched the extra teeth retreat back into his gums.

Vampires… real, blood-sucking vampires?

"No," I said, "he never mentioned it." All the jokes I hadn't understood suddenly began to make sense. I'd always wondered why Buddy's friends sometimes called him Fang; now that was crystal too. Fuck. I could only think of one other reason to question the premise.

"He never bit me," I said.

Dex shook his head. "He told everyone he had at first, but you acted so innocent about it he finally had to tell the truth. He said he tried to bite your neck, more than once, but couldn't break the skin."

Me… act innocent? And… Buddy had tried, but couldn't bite me? Star had reminded me that our bodies had built-in protections. I guessed being vampire-proof was one of them. I thought back on all the times Buddy had acted frustrated during sex when I figured he had nothing to be frustrated about, all the times he and his gang laughed without my understanding what was so funny… laughing at me and my ignorance of their inside humor. If this weirdness was true, couldn't he have just told me? Maybe I would even have let him bite me. Well, maybe.

It was a lot to digest. Sure, I was a genuine space alien, and maybe Dex or Buddy might have trouble believing that fact, but just because I was different didn't mean there had to be all kinds of ghosties and ghoulies in the universe, did it?

Besides, Buddy and Dex had both been on the beach today in broad daylight. Hell, they even had tans. Every vampire in every story I'd ever heard of was stuck in his coffin until after dark, or in mortal danger of spontaneous combustion. I glanced at the sunny afternoon back yard outside the window.

"Where's your coffin," I asked, a slight edge to my voice, "and why aren't you in it?"

Dex tried a small smile. "I'm one of the lucky ones. I was turned after the Boss's lady-friend made her discovery. I've never had to fear the sun."

My eyes narrowed. Sure, I'd seen his fangs, but this part had to be bullshit.

"You know Xintaie, don't you?" he said. "Years ago she invented a chemical formula that lets vampires walk in daylight. It even works on the really old ones… like the Boss… I mean, Mr. Drackett."

I shook my head. I liked Xintaie, and she had told me she was a biochemist, but…. This was getting to be a bit much. I wondered, though. I'd heard people refer to Mr. D by a lot of names. Boss was common, but I was sure I'd heard a few "Masters" thrown in as well. What the hell was that about?

"Can I use your phone to call a taxi?" I asked. "And maybe borrow some sweats? I need to go."

Dex jumped up. "Sure, but let me drive you."

I nodded. The working hypothesis was that Dex had been honest with me, but I still wanted to confront Buddy… give him a chance to explain himself. "Okay, thanks."

We didn't say much on the way there, but when I opened the car door Dex grabbed my hand. "I really enjoyed this afternoon, and… you're really special," he said. "Can I see you again… sometime?"

I found a smile and put it on. "Sure, Dex. I appreciate your honesty about… things. And I enjoyed you, too… a lot. Call me."

His face lit up like a Halloween jack-o-lantern… or maybe it was just my current turn of mind. He drove away, waving cheerfully.

Buddy and his gang were at the bar when I found them. I'd showered and changed and about made up my mind that Dex was a sexually gifted psychopath. Everything about Buddy and company seemed so ordinary. Just another gang of happy-crappy surfer dudes, not a covey of vampires who were immune to sunlight as long as they remembered to take their medicine. Buddy threw an arm across my shoulders and drew me close. "Hey, where did you disappear to today?"

"Just got bored and hitched a ride home," I said.

"Let me get you a drink, baby," he said, and Joe, a thin balding guy and the bartender on duty, poured me a cola. I could drink alcohol all night and never have a reaction, but sugar in sufficient quantities seemed to give me a buzz.

"And give me another of the usual," Buddy added, holding up his empty mug.

The bartender filled his glass with something foamy and pale amber with a slight ruddy cast. Buddy took a healthy swallow and seemed to notice me watching him. "Want a taste, baby?" he asked, with his customary leer. All his friends grew quiet and turned to watch.

I decided "what the hell". "Sure," I said. I grasped the mug, tilted it to my lips, and took a mouthful. Immediately thereafter, I spewed the liquid back out, coating my shirt and a good portion of the bar-top and narrowly missing Joe the bartender. The stuff was beer… and blood. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, sure I'd never forget the taste.

Buddy and his gang roared with laughter. "What's the matter, baby," he choked out between guffaws, "don't you like it?"

"No," I said quietly, "you better keep it… baby." And I upended the mug over his head.

Buddy sputtered, and his friends went wild, pointing and hooting at their fearless leader. I drew up what dignity I had left and walked away.

I heard Buddy asking for a towel. Personally, I hoped someone dried him off with a blowtorch.