From a whole new perspective

Chapter II In the lion's den

Chapter II: In the lion's den

Exibithionist.
This was the first word that had popped into Charlie's mind when he had met for the very first time Peter Vincent's image in the thousands spots in rotation on TV about his amazing magic shows at Hard Rock Cafe of Las Vegas Casino.
He had not changed his mind even when, worried because he hadn't seen him at school, he had went to Ed's house; but instead of finding who once had been his best friend, he had found his computer, with some files inside and a link to Peter's website.

He was firm in his own convictions even now that he was about to check said website apart, searching for more news about that so-called vampire hunter.
That wild long hair, that leather coat so tight - never as tight as his skinny leather pants -, left open in order to show the smooth-skinned chest, so appealing and that oh so pleased attitude, whenever he was throwing some of his fake magic.
Charlie couldn't take off his eyes of that picture. He was just pretending to read the small biography about him and take notes about it.
This was before someone disturbed him.

"Hey!"

Instinctively Charlie closed his computer screen and covered his notes with an arm.
He looked up and realized it was Amy.

"Hey..." he greeted her, not very enthusiastically.

"You weren't in class. What are you working on?" she asked him, sitting on the desk, with dangling legs.
The classic behavior of who's determined to stay there and get explanations.
But right then Charlie didn't want either of those things.
He just had to find a way to make her go away.

"Porn. Hacked it." escaped from his mouth, without even thinking too much.

And he figured it out by her reaction that it was the winning strategy. He had noticed her rolling her eyes and snorting a little.

"Oh, good. I thought it was something creepy." she snapped, still trying to keep calm.

Charlie nodded and smiled so wanly that she could have punched his face. He was trying really hard to make her go away, but she did not want to drop the ball.

"Are you okay?" Amy questioned him, very wary.

Charlie had to reinforce the message.

He nodded.
"Look, I'd better..." he added, wishing she got what he was about to say.
"Get back to your porn. Got it." she anticipated his sentence, clearly pissed off.

"Yeah." the guy shortly confirmed.

And it worked.

"Okay." she hissed, gathering her stuff and leaving.

- Porn? How the hell did I bring myself to say I was watching porn? - Charlie wondered puzzled, while he lifted the screen up again, searching for that website.

The answer was in front of his eyes.

Besides, the site also contained some video from his shows.
And Charlie felt the very weird urge to watch them while he unbuttoned his jeans in order to give himself some necessary relief.

The only thing that prevented him from doing that was the fact that he had chosen a classroom that wasn't totally empty, to do his researches.

- What the hell is wrong with me? I send away my super hot beautiful girlfriend whom half school would do anything to go out with... and I got aroused seeing the images of a perfect stranger? A male stranger, nonetheless! I've always been heterosexual to the bone! - he tried to give himself a logical explanation, feeling bewildered as never before.

And then, out of the blue, his mind drifted back to the evening before.
The way Jerry had appeared at his porch, with the pathetic excuse about the missing beers. And then when he had followed him to the threshold, showing his appreciation for the furnitures in the house. Once more, pathetic.
And then Charlie found himself thinking also about the way Jerry stared at him, at the intensity of his black eyes, at the way his full lips curved in a crooked smile.
He recalled how all his muscles almost threatened to explode from that black T-shirt, so tight... and he wondered how it would feel to trace those abs that seemed to be sculpted in a rock, with his hand.

He also recalled how adrenalinic had been to make that trick of the threshold barrier to him. Oh, c'mon, Charlie had already figured out that Jerry couldn't come into his house without an invitation.
And Charlie was proud of himself for not giving in, not even when he had slipped the sixth beer; he had panicked for some seconds.
For a moment, a single, as short as disturbing moment, Charlie had been tempted to gather the broken pieces of glass from the floor in a clumsy way, cutting at his hand, right there in front of Jerry who observed him from outside, that red line of glistening blood so exposed... and then maybe he could have crossed the threshold, just enough to find out what could have happened.
Charlie slapped his face repetitively, trying to pull himself together.
He managed to and seemed to calm down.

- Oh, c'mon, you also read it on Peter Vincent's website... there are vampires from some tribes who can charm and lure their victims or potential ones of any age, religion, race and most important... of any sex... so it can be. That's why I felt myself almost attracted towards Jerry, it's just and only that. The more far I keep from him, the better is, I'll go back being the usual good old Charlie who has only eyes for his beloved Amy! - he convinced himself.

So what exactly was his excuse for feeling that turmoil of odd feelings towards that one hundred percent human illusionist?
Charlie refused in any way to answer to that inner question, without even mentioning that that same evening he would have tried all his best just to get even one single minute of that illusionist's so precious time.
He owed that to Ed, he had to learn more about that weird stuff, he had to try to rescue him. He had to protect himself and his dear ones.

That's why he would have found an excuse to go to Peter Vincent; he would have found a way to access to his show.
Charlie and that mysterious oh so appealing and charismatic man, all alone in the same room... if only he had played his cards well.

- Come hell or high water! -

-------------------------------------------------

Sun was about to set, but not Charlie's determination. He was walking with self-confidence towards the Hard Rock Cafe in Las Vegas.
Nothing too difficult so far.
He didn't have the tickets for that night show - he had heard they were usually sold out very quickly - but he already knew how to solve the problem.
Step one: he needed a newspaper and the newspaper stand at the entrance was just what he needed.
Sure, he could have simply stolen one, but Charlie was just a too good guy for this, he regularly paid for that, leaving the money on the pile of the remaining newspapers.
Step two: he needed a fake name and a role to play, something that would not arouse suspicion.

Lucky for him, there were plenty of abandoned jacket by their owners who were busy enjoying all the temptations that place offered them, starting with the slot machines.
That's why it was a piece of cake for Charlie to grab a jacket of his same skinny size, with the original badge, replacing the real magazine that guy worked for with that cut out part of said newspaper, fixed properly. That's how he obtained a new, unquestionable identity.
R.E. Barry, journalist for the Vegas Sun.

Now it was only a matter of finding the right door, opening it, sneaking through and waiting.
It was enough just a bunch of minutes of rehearsal to jump to one, incontestable conclusion: Peter Vincent had an impossibly bad attitude.
And he talked like -and even worse than- a longshoreman.

- How many dirty words did he manage to say in just the last two minutes? - he wondered, bewildered by the rude way he had treated his make-up artist, even pushing her a little.

That was the same treatment Peter reserved for anyone in his crew that dared to go too close to him.
It didn't matter. Shit personality or not, Charley Brewster would manage to approach him. He had promised that to himself.