A canon-adjacent Harborview Immortals flash fiction that picks up where the Tuck-centric bonus chapter 7.5 in Family Matters leaves off, but from another vampire’s POV. I originally wrote this while visiting my BFF in Texas, hence the vampire in this story being from Texas, too.

Copyright 2023 by Emma Peterson/CLI

Cover image by Alireza Irajinia on Unsplash

Sunday Night

It wasn’t the kind of club that Charles “Chuck” Rayborn would have normally frequented back when he was living in Texas. There was no blinding glow of neon or country music or gaggles of good ol’ boys gathered out front swapping tall tales and, occasionally, bodily fluids. But since he was no longer living and Texas was a distant memory, it would have to do.

He got out of his truck with a sigh and started across the parking lot toward the rundown building that appeared to be crawling with weirdos, most of whom were dressed in black, right down to their lipstick and fingernails—the women and the men. Apparently these were his people now, a thought so discouraging that Chuck briefly considered getting back into his truck and hightailing it out of there. In just under an hour, he could have been back home relaxing in his recliner and scrolling through bad movies or infomercials or whatever else happened to be on the television that night. He had plenty of blood and booze and cigarettes to keep him occupied. What more did a vampire like him need?

The answer was simple: sex. Chuck needed sex. And lots of it. He hadn’t been laid in four months now and the urge to stick his dick somewhere warm and tight was strong enough to keep him moving forward in spite of his reservations. He could only find so much satisfaction from Internet porn and his right hand, and it was with great reluctance that he finally broke down and decided to check out the most popular vampire nightspot for miles. Hell, it was the only vampire nightspot for miles as far as he knew. The Rising Sun. Har, har. The place was his only option if he wanted to find someone he wouldn’t be tempted to bleed dry after fucking. And from the looks of things, he would just have to be willing to overlook a little guyliner to achieve his objective.

On his way to the entrance, he noticed a human cop sitting in a parked car off to his right. Maybe he was good for keeping other humans away but Chuck highly doubted that he would be worth much of a damn if something were to happen that required serious muscle. Speaking of serious muscle, the two vampires who were guarding the doors looked menacing as hell. While Chuck came close to matching them in height, they trumped him at least two times over in width. They were pretty attractive though and if he were the bottoming kind, he wouldn’t have minded being stuck between them. They gave him a brief once-over as he strolled past them, at which point Chuck concluded that his attire was acceptable, or at the very least not worth raising a fuss about. With his plaid, Western-style shirt, dark denim jeans, and square-toed cowboy boots, which weren’t exactly common in such a Yankee town, he hadn’t been sure what to expect.

The interior of the club looked like something out of that one movie, the one where that cute vampire chick did a whole lot of shooting and not nearly enough biting. The air was surprisingly clean; the rumors he had heard about the owners keeping the place smoke-free for their human kid must have been true. As someone who enjoyed cigarettes just as much as alcohol, Chuck was somewhat disappointed. There was a strange tune in the air, one that sounded like it came right out of a bad dream. Industrial music, they called it. Personally, he preferred to call it crap.

He could feel the weight of dozens of stares as he made his way to the bar, although he wasn’t sure if it was because they were into him or because he missed the memo that he was expected to dress like that Marilyn Manson fellow to blend in. A provocative female vampire wearing next to nothing brushed against him as he weaved through the crowd. Sexy though she was, she was missing the one thing that he craved the most. Shame, because she really was a looker.

“Excuse me, Ma’am,” he drawled with a courteous nod before moving on.

Chuck took a seat at the bar and ordered a beer from a cute bartender with a lip ring. He occasionally wished that he’d pierced something before being turned. Then again, he was turned during a time when only women were pierced and never anywhere except for their ears.

When the vampire returned with a bottle that displayed a name he couldn’t pronounce, he hoped for the best and took a long swig. It wasn’t great but it would do the trick. For what it had cost him, Chuck suspected that he was paying more for the brand than the taste. After choking down the first one he ordered another, which went down a little easier. By the time he got to the fourth one, he decided that it wasn’t all that bad.

“You strike me as more of a Budweiser kind of guy.”

Chuck turned toward the owner of the voice and found a blond-haired, blue-eyed vampire watching him curiously. He was one of the handful of folks in the place who weren’t dressed like they were in some S&M porno and as a result, he had Chuck’s immediate attention.

And that was when he noticed something peculiar.

“Are you chewing gum?”

The vampire grinned. “Yeah.”

In a building full of oddities, Chuck found that to be one of the oddest things of all. “Why?”

“It’s a long story.”

“You miss eating food?”

“Apparently not that long of a story.”

So he was fuckable and interesting. Suddenly things were looking up for Chuck. “You were saying that I look like a Bud man. Is it because of the way I’m dressed?”

“Not just that. But mostly that.” The stranger smirked while looking him over. “Let me guess. You left your Stetson at home?”

“Shows how much you know. I left it in my truck.”

The vampire’s laugh rang out over the music. “I should have known better,” he said, extending his hand. “Tucker. Most people call me Tuck.”

“I’m Chuck,” an amused Chuck replied as he shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Your name is Chuck. Are you serious?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Tuck and Chuck, huh? How fortuitous.” Tuck took a sip of his own beer. “So, Chuck, what brings you out tonight? No offense but this doesn’t really seem like your kind of place.”

“None taken because it really isn’t,” Chuck admitted. “But I was in the mood for some company.”

“Beer-drinking company or naked company?” Tuck inquired.

A sinful smile spread on Chuck’s face. “Naked, beer-drinking company.”

“Is that so?” Tuck leaned in close to Chuck, boldly meeting his suggestive gaze. “Maybe I can help you with that,” he offered.

“Just like that? I could be some cold-blooded killer.”

“Aren’t we all?” Tuck finished his drink and stood up. “Your place or mine?”