Introverts Make Convenient Targets

[brian_campo]

Brian loaded an amp into the van and shoved it across the floorboard. The wheels belonged to Mikey, who bought the vehicle to transport his drums all over town. Now it served as the band’s transportation to and from their practice space and shows. Fully loaded, there wasn’t even room for a copilot, forget about a hapless kid hoping for free candy.

He mopped sweat from his forehead. The gesture made his hair stand at funky angles.

From the back of the Dive, a male voice yelled, “Hey, Brian. I’m gonna get a beer. You comin’ in?”

“Nah, I’m good.” He hopped on the tailgate, electing to sit in the alley by himself. It was rare, but every once in a while, he got sick of the crowd in there. All the body contact with strangers dripping beer and sweat as they squeezed into line at the bar, the odors of pot and crack smoke mingling in the bathroom stalls, and even the noise got to him. It was claustrophobic. He wouldn’t be out there for long – another band was going on in twenty and he wanted to hear their set – so he decided to soak up the privacy while he had a chance.

He tugged his foot onto his knee to inspect a scuff in his boot. An impeccable appearance wasn’t on his must-do list, but the boots were sacred turf. He licked his thumb and rubbed the mark.

[Thread: Open to Tristan]

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[tristan_vamp]

Tristan pulled into the back alley on his motorcycle and cut the engine. He eased the Harley into a slot across the street from a van and swung his leg over, coming to stand next to it. He pulled off his gloves first, pushed them into the pockets of his leather riding jacket, and then pulled off his helmet. He placed it on the right handlebar grip and rolled his shoulders.

He glanced at the van and noticed a guy distracted by his shoe. The vampire's eyes flickered up and around the building. Typical dive. If Tristan hung around long enough in a place like this, he would find what he was looking for. Satisfaction to ease the ache.

Tristan looked right and left. The alley was as empty as a ghost town, except for the kid licking his boots. Tristan stayed by his bike for the moment, resting a hand on the seat. "You with the band," he finally asked, startling the guy.