The Convention
"I'll be back in a few days," Ethan Woodson shouted as he grabbed his suitcase and slammed the front door behind him.
The handsome actor got into the back of the waiting limousine, relieved to be escaping the torment of his current domestic situation. He and Lacy Gilchrist, a fashion model and aspiring actress, had been in the thick of another heated argument, the third one of the week. Thankfully, a weekend-long commitment in New York would get him out of L.A. until Monday.
During the drive to the airport, he rested his head on the back of the seat and tried to clear his brain. He did not want to dwell on his deteriorating love life. Eventually, he would need to take action and end the three-year-long relationship. Unhappy as he was, it was not something he looked forward to since there would no doubt be a melodramatic scene, complete with copious tears, vituperative recriminations and several flying objects. He wondered—not for the first time—why women could not simply accept a break-up in a mature way and then move on. Why all the hysterics?
By the time the limo driver took the ramp that led to Los Angeles International Airport, Ethan finally succeeded in putting Lacy out of his mind. His thoughts went to the two days that lie ahead of him. He was flying to New York to attend a convention. It was not a meeting of actors in which he would discuss relevant career-related matters with his peers. Instead it was a convention of Vampyre! fans, the fifth such annual gathering of adolescent and teenage girls eager to meet the stars of their favorite Terror Channel hit television series—an event he regarded only slightly better than staying home and arguing with his girlfriend.
Set in Victorian England, Vampyre! was a series about Lysander Hume, a young British aristocrat and son of a member of the House of Lords, who was bitten by a vampire while on the grand tour of Europe. Determined to only satisfy his hunger for blood by eating rare meat, Lysander is able to live among humans without revealing his true nature. In that way, he could use his keen vampire perception to hunt down evil supernatural beings that stalk the streets of London. Invariably at the end of each episode of the show, the werewolf, zombie, evil witch or murderous demon is unmasked, and the undead version of Sherlock Holmes dispenses with the murderous villain with a bite on the neck, thus quenching his oft denied thirst for sanguis while making the world a safer place for humans.
As the limo came to a stop beside the curb of the passenger drop-off zone, Ethan put on his Oliver Peoples sunglasses. While most adults did not recognize him, his young fans were usually able to spot him in a crowd. He did not want to be harassed by a screaming thirteen-year-old, begging him for an autograph or asking him to take a selfie with her to post on her Facebook page.
Having gone through airport security without any problem, the actor boarded his flight and took off his dark glasses.
What am I going to do for the next six hours? he wondered.
Being on an airplane, his choices were limited. He could (A) read, (B) watch a movie or television program or (C) listen to music. He chose (D) drink. Since a car would be waiting for him at LaGuardia to take him to his hotel, he didn't have to limit his alcohol consumption.
While he was waiting for the flight attendant to take his order, a passenger slipped into the seat beside him. She appeared to be around his age, thirty, possibly a year or two younger. Given her pale blond hair and bronze tan, she was clearly a Southern California girl. A gorgeous face, killer body and stilt-like legs completed the package.
Ethan, voted one of the ten sexiest men in Hollywood, turned in her direction and smiled.
"I know you," she said, returning his smile. "Aren't you Ethan Woodson?"
The actor nodded his head. In this instance, he was pleased to be recognized.
"I thought you looked familiar. My niece has your pictures and posters on her bedroom wall—right next to those of Justin Bieber. She's absolutely in love with you."
"How old is your niece?" he asked, feeling as though half the wind were taken from his sails.
"Twelve."
There went the rest of the wind.
* * *
As Corinne waited for the online PDF ticket to come out of her printer, she considered what to pack for her weekend in New York. She wanted to travel as light as possible, but she did not want to leave behind something she might need.
It seems like I've been waiting for this event forever! she thought, as she folded the printed ticket and placed it in her purse for safekeeping.
Hundreds, if not thousands, of other girls were feeling the same way. Like Corinne, many of them were fussing over last minute packing, making sure they remembered their cameras, makeup, blow dryers and other necessities for the two-day-long convention. No doubt the most important items to consider were the outfits they would wear when their adolescent dreams came true and they were finally in the presence of their idol. Some chose to wear sexy outfits in hopes of attracting Ethan Woodson's eye, if only momentarily. Their necklines would be as low and hemlines as high as their parents would allow. Others chose to wear nineteenth century inspired attire, consistent with the setting of the show.
Rather than try to stuff her elaborate Victorian ball gown—a family heirloom—in a suitcase, Corinne carefully placed it in a garment bag and hung it from the top of her bedroom door.
I can't wait until Lysander sees me in this dress! she thought with a dreamy expression on her pretty, young face.
To Corinne, as to many of the girls who would attend the convention, Ethan Woodson was Lysander Hume.
* * *
When the plane landed in New York, Ethan put his dark glasses on again and quickly made his way to the baggage claim area. After picking up his luggage, he entered the waiting limo and was whisked away to his hotel. Not wanting to run into any fans who might have arrived early, he deliberately avoided the ballroom and nearby conference rooms where the convention would be held. Unfortunately, there was a group of teenagers sitting in the lobby when he checked in.
"Oh, my God!" one of the girls cried when he quietly gave his name to the desk clerk. "It's him; it's Lysander!"
Oh, Christ! he thought. It's starting already.
The girls surrounded him, taking photographs of him with their cell phones. He forced a smile and then grabbed his room key and hurried to the elevator before they had the opportunity to ask him for a free autograph. Thankfully, he encountered no one else on the way to his room.
The actor swiped the keycard, unlocked the door and stepped into his room. It would be his sanctuary for the next two days, the only place he would be able to go to avoid his female fans. At least the promoters had stocked his mini bar with his favorite alcoholic beverages.
Drink in hand, Ethan flopped into a comfortable chair placed near a window with a breathtaking view of the city. His mind, however, was far from appreciating the beauty of the Empire State Building, the East River or the Chrysler Building. Mentally, at least, he was not in New York but in the too-familiar realm of self-pity.
I wanted to be a great actor like Nicholson, DeNiro and Hoffman. What the hell went wrong? he asked himself. You don't see Al Pacino being forced to attend Godfather conventions and having to endure fans telling him how much they love Michael Corleone. And when did Daniel Day-Lewis or Tom Hanks ever have to show up for photo ops, autograph signings and Q&A's to promote a movie?
Although Ethan knew very few actors reached the zenith of success that his own heroes achieved, there were those who managed to break the bonds of being a teen idol and graduate to successful careers. Johnny Depp and Leonardo DiCaprio had done it. Their boyish good looks and stints on television had not prevented them from going on to more serious acting jobs. They were both now respected film actors. DiCaprio had even won the coveted Oscar.
And here I am playing a vampire detective and vying with One Direction for the cover of Tiger Beat magazine! he thought angrily.
Although never an optimist by any stretch of the imagination, Ethan was feeling more sullen than usual. His heightened bitterness was a result not only of his recent contretemps with Lacy but also of the telephone call he received from his agent. The producers of the show, he learned, were seriously considering cancelling Vampyre! at the end of the current season. Perversely, while he hated being a teen idol, he did not want to lose his steady paycheck.
Ethan poured himself another drink, hoping to drown the fear and resentment he harbored. Would there be life for him after Vampyre! went off the air, or would he fade into obscurity? Would anyone even remember his name after his teenage fans grew up and went on to college? Would he consider himself lucky just to be invited to attend a Chiller Theater Convention along with other nearly forgotten celebrities from the past such as Judge Reinhold, Demond Wilson, Mackenzie Phillips, Erik Estrada and Micky Dolenz?
After his third drink, he dozed off, waking to a dark room hours later. He should get up from the chair, change his clothes, phone a few friends and go enjoy himself. This was New York, after all—the Big Apple, the City that Never Sleeps. However, he was in no mood to be social.
Ah, screw it! he thought and then grabbed another bottle, stretched out on the bed and drank himself to sleep.
* * *
Corinne woke earlier than usual, surprised that she had managed to sleep at all the previous night.
Today is the day!
After a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios and a glass of orange juice, she put on a pair of jeans and a Vampyre! T-shirt. She would wear the Victorian gown on the second day of the convention when she was to have her photograph taken with Ethan Woodson.
She looked at her watch and estimated how much time she had before she needed to catch the bus for New York City. Deciding it best to wait until she checked into her hotel room to curl her hair and do her full-face makeup, she quickly ran the mascara wand over her eyelashes—the bare minimum in her beauty regimen.
There was a last minute double—no triple—check of the items in her luggage and in her purse. Once she was sure she had everything she would need, Corinne grabbed the garment bag and headed for the living room.
"I'm leaving now, Grandpa," she announced, raising her voice so that the elderly man in the wheelchair could hear her clearly.
"You got everything you need?" he inquired.
"Right here in my suitcase."
"What about money? You know everything costs more in New York than it does here."
"I've got plenty of cash and a credit card in case of emergencies."
"I hate the thought of you going by yourself," the grandfather said. "If only I could walk ...."
"I'll be fine," she assured him and affectionately kissed him on the cheek. "Don't worry about me."
With one last look at the frail old man, she closed the front door and hurried down the street toward the bus stop.
* * *
Ethan woke Saturday morning with a raging hangover. Thankfully, the promoters had anticipated such an occurrence and stocked a bottle of Excedrin in his bedside table. He quickly washed down three of the white tablets with a bottle of Aquafina, not even minding that it was not Voss or Evian.
While he waited for the pain reliever to deaden the throbbing ache in his head, he heard a loud knock. He fought the nausea in his stomach as he crossed the room and opened the door. It was Shawna Perring, the young woman assigned by the promoters to be his assistant for the weekend.
"Good morning," she said cheerfully. "I hope you found the room to your satisfaction."
Since nodding his head would only cause more intense pain, Ethan grunted in reply.
"Would now be a good time to go over your schedule for today?"
"Coffee."
"Oh, I'm sorry. Didn't you have a chance to have breakfast yet?"
"Just coffee," he managed to say.
"There's a Starbucks in the lobby. I'll go get you a cup. Do you have any preference? Espresso Macchiato? Caffè Americano? Cappuccino?"
"Coffee," he groaned, handing her the key card so that she could let herself into the room when she returned.
By the time Shawna came back with a Venti dark roast, the thunderous marching band in his brain had been replaced with a more reserved string quartet. And after drinking his coffee, it became a quiet folk singer on an acoustic guitar.
"Are you ready yet?" she asked.
"Just give me a few minutes to hop into the shower, okay?"
"No problem. We've got about an hour before the doors open."
* * *
Several floors below Ethan's temporary sanctuary, Corinne walked into her room, put her suitcase and garment bag in the closet and lay across the bed to test its softness.
At this very moment, Lysander Hume is somewhere in this building, she thought, closing her eyes to imagine his face.
She looked at her watch: it wouldn't be long before the convention began. After washing her face, she carefully applied her makeup. When she was finished, she admired her face in the mirror: skin unnaturally pale, eyes dark and hypnotic, red lips the color of blood. A few strategically placed curls in her hair, and she was ready to go.
When the elevator opened on the ground floor, Corinne stepped out into a hallway filled with several hundred Vampyre! fans, nearly all females, most between the ages of eleven and fifteen. She followed the crowd to the end of the hall where she was able to trade in her printed ticket for a plastic bracelet as proof of admission. She was also given a program of the scheduled events.
Since Corinne was not interested in having her photograph taken with Mitch Geller, the actor who played Scotland Yard Chief Inspector Gavin Swindon—especially with a price tag of fifty dollars—she decided to walk through the vendor area and do a little browsing. The variety of Vampyre! merchandise was staggering. Vendors were selling not just posters, photographs, T-shirts, DVDs and graphic novels. A fan could also find, among other things, Ethan Woodson's face and the series logo on blankets, cell phone cases, jewelry, perfume, underwear, action figures, shot glasses, watches and board games.
Corinne stopped at one table that advertised Dr. Polidori's bloody Mary cocktails in a free souvenir glass. She bought one and discovered it was nothing more than a vanilla milkshake with dark red food coloring to make it look like blood. At twelve dollars and fifty cents, it was the most expensive milkshake she had ever tasted.
As she walked down the first aisle, Corinne read the names of the vendors: Mary Shelley's Books and DVDs, Jonathan Harker's Photographs and Posters, Nosferatu's Vampire Fashions, Twilight Jewelry, Lestat's Fangs and Fake Blood and Renfield's Tasty Snacks. It was more than a room of vendors; it was a Mecca for vampire lovers.
* * *
"Aren't you going to dress in costume?" Shawna Perring asked when Ethan met her in the grand ballroom before the autograph signing.
"Why? Is that a condition of my contract?" the actor asked.
"No, but your costars are appearing in character. I though you would, too."
"Well, I'm wearing my old jeans and my Lakers T-shirt. If I've got to sit at a table and sign my name for four hours, I'm at least going to be comfortable doing it."
Shawna had worked with stars from popular shows like Star Trek, Supernatural, The Vampire Diaries, The Walking Dead and Breaking Bad. Yet never before did she work with such an uncooperative, unpleasant celebrity as Ethan Woodson.
If only his fans knew what an ass he was, they wouldn't be so willing to pay seventy-five dollars for an autograph!
* * *
At four o'clock, Corinne bought herself a slice of pizza. Normally, she would eat two, sometimes three, depending on how hungry she was. But her grandfather was right. Everything was more expensive in New York. After finishing her combined lunch and dinner, she got on line for the cast Q&A. It was one of the two events she definitely wanted to attend, the other being the photo op with Ethan Woodson.
She found a seat near the middle of the room, not too close to the stage but near enough that she could see the expressions on the actors' faces. The fans' questions ran the gamut from the serious (What made you decide to become an actor?) to the absurd (If you could be a breed of dog, which one would it be?). All the actors carefully avoided answering questions that would require a spoiler alert.
Ethan, who had cleverly poured vodka inside a familiar red can of Coca-Cola, cringed every time a young girl prefaced her query with, "This question's for Lysander."
There is no such person! his mind would scream. He's nothing but a figment of a writer's imagination!
Still, he managed to smile and respond with an often humorous reply. Although the Q&A sessions were his least favorite events of the conventions, he got through them by remembering that he was an actor. From the moment he sat down on the ballroom stage with his costars, he slipped into a character he had created: Ethan Woodson, the teenage idol. And since there was no script, he was called upon to improvise his lines.
"I have a question for Lysander," one pretty young girl in the audience said.
Ethan cringed.
Oh, Christ! Another one.
"Don't you feel any sympathy for your victims?"
"I assume you're referring to my character and not to me."
"I'm asking you, the vampire."
"Okay," the actor said with an uncomfortable laugh. "I suppose if Lysander Hume ever caused the death of an innocent person, he would feel a good deal of sympathy for his victim and a profound sense of guilt as well. But you have to remember that he only bites the bad guys in the show."
Ethan was relieved when the girl sat down and did not ask another question.
The Q&A dragged on for another two hours, but eventually the session as well as the first day of the convention came to a close. Later that evening, there were musical performances by Mitch Geller and two other costars. Since Corinne had no interest in the supporting cast of Vampyre! she went to her room and watched television before showering and going to bed at an early hour.
Tomorrow's the big day, she thought as she popped two Melatonin into her mouth and washed them down with a glass of tap water. I'd better get a good night's sleep.
Ethan, meanwhile, had no intention of remaining in his hotel room for the second night in a row. Annalise Davies, who once had a guest role on Vampyre! as a shape shifter, was throwing a party in the Village, and he was invited to stop by.
"How are things on the West Coast?" the actress asked when the two of them had the opportunity to talk.
"All right, I guess."
"You don't sound too convincing."
"To be honest, it's getting boring. I've been living in L.A. since 2007, doing the same show for the past six years and dating the same woman for three."
"Why not move to New York for a change of scenery?"
"What's there to do here besides Broadway, off Broadway, off-off Broadway, and nowhere near Broadway?"
"There are plenty of TV shows and movies being filmed in and around the city. You can always start by getting a guest spot on Law & Order and then see what happens."
Heading east was not something he had ever considered, yet it could work to his advantage. If he could get a role in a play, it would not only give him steady work, but it also might help change his image from that of a teen idol to a more serious actor. An added bonus was that it would be the perfect reason for him to break up with Lacy Gilchrist, who had no desire to leave Los Angeles.
It was after four in the morning when Ethan returned to his hotel. Although nearly as drunk as he had been on the previous night, he was in much better spirits.
* * *
The following morning, Shawna Perring showed up at the star's hotel room with a Starbucks Venti dark roast in hand. Surprisingly, Ethan had taken his three Excedrin half an hour earlier and was ready to begin work.
"What's first on my schedule?" he asked.
"There's another Q&A at ten, followed by an autograph signing session at eleven," the assistant replied. "That will probably last until one. Then you break for lunch."
"Would you arrange for pizza to be delivered to my room at that time? A large pepperoni with extra cheese—and have them throw in an order of garlic knots, too."
"Garlic? Are you sure that's such a good idea?"
"Don't start acting like one of those starry-eyed adolescents," Ethan laughed. "I'm not a real vampire."
"No, but your photo op begins at three. Do you want to take close-up photographs with your fans, smelling like garlic? I can just see it plastered all over the social media sites: hot star has dragon breath."
"All right, forget the garlic knots then. So that's all I have to do today? The Q&A at ten, autographs at eleven and the photos at three?"
"Yes."
"Great. What time does my flight leave?"
"Eight-thirty. The car will pick you up here at seven and take you to LaGuardia."
"Anything else we need to discuss?"
"No. That covers everything."
"Good. While I get dressed, will you call room service and have them send me up a couple of eggs over easy, toast, sausage and hash browns? And if you wouldn't mind, I'd like another Starbucks."
Thank God I only have to deal with this jackass once a year, Shawna thought as she headed for the elevator.
* * *
Corinne removed the gown from the garment bag, careful not to tear the old fabric. The dress, which had been passed down from mother to daughter for six generations, was kept in immaculate condition. One look at the narrow waistline provided an explanation as to how the gown remained in such good shape: only two people in the line of succession could actually fit into it. The original owner wore it when she was twenty years old, and Corinne, a thin, petite sixteen-year-old, just managed to squeeze into it. Thankfully, one of the hotel maids was able to help her dress by fastening the back.
I hope Lysander doesn't spoil the photograph by wearing jeans and a T-shirt!
Corinne looked at her watch. It was two-forty-five. She had better get going. There was bound to be a long line.
"It feels like Halloween," one girl declared as she entered the ballroom where people were waiting in line to have their picture taken with their idol. "Maybe I should have brought my trick-or-treat bag!"
Ethan looked bored, turning on his dazzling smile only when the photographer was ready to snap the picture. As one young girl after another stood beside him, the actor considered his options for the near future. If Vampyre! was cancelled, he would make immediate plans to sell his home and move to New York, or at least the northeastern part of New Jersey. Given the popularity of his series, he should be able to find work.
As he was imagining how he would break the news to Lacy, Corinne, next in line, handed her prepaid ticket to the photographer's assistant. It was her dress that first caught Ethan's attention. Not even his female guest stars wore such elaborate costumes while filming. When his eyes moved to her face, he felt a stab of recognition. She was the girl who had questioned him about Lysander's feeling sympathy for his victims.
She's no ordinary fan, he concluded. She's a fanatic!
"Hi, cutie," he greeted her as she walked toward him in her high-buttoned shoes. "Nice outfit."
"Thanks."
Corinne quickly removed a vial from a small Victorian chatelaine purse that matched her dress. She removed the lid and dabbed her neck with the liquid inside.
No wonder she put on perfume, Ethan thought as he got a strong whiff of garlic when she stood next to him. Too bad it's not strong enough.
The actor didn't realize that the vial contained holy water, not perfume. Along with the crucifix and garlic she wore, it was meant to protect her from vampires.
Once the picture was taken, Ethan, still forcing a smile, said goodbye to the strange girl, anxious to see her walk away.
"Hi there, sweetheart," he said to the next girl in line, grateful that she smelled of Hollister Pure Cali rather than garlic.
At the conclusion of the photo op session, Ethan returned to his room, took one last drink from his mini bar and packed his belongings. He then phoned the desk and confirmed that his car had arrived and was waiting to take him to the airport.
With any luck, this was my final convention, he thought, swallowing the last of his vodka.
He put the empty bottle on the dresser, picked up his luggage and headed for the door. There were no fans in the hall, and surprisingly no one inside the elevator. The car went down two floors and stopped. Ethan silently prayed it would be a businessman with no interest in either vampires or actors.
When the door slid open, however, he saw Corinne, now dressed in jeans and a hoodie, waiting to get inside.
"You recognize me?" the teenager asked when she saw the wary look on Ethan's handsome face.
"Yeah. We had our picture taken together this afternoon."
"I'm flattered you remember especially since there were so many other girls there."
"But none that were dressed like you."
Before the elevator could descend to the next floor, Corinne hit the emergency stop button, bringing the car to an immediate halt.
"What are you doing?" Ethan asked, fear creeping into his voice as he realized the scandal being in a stopped elevator with an underage girl might create.
"I want to be alone with you."
"Look, I'm way too old for you. And I have a girlfriend already."
"It doesn't matter," Corinne replied, reaching into her suitcase and taking out a heavy mallet. "I have no romantic interest in you."
"What ...?"
Before the actor could form his question, the young girl brought the mallet down on his head, causing him to fall to the floor of the elevator. Again, Corinne's hand went into her suitcase. This time it pulled out a crude wooden stake, which she proceeded to hammer through Ethan Woodson's heart.
* * *
The old man sat in his wheelchair in front of the television set. His eyes frequently darting to the cuckoo clock on the wall, he paid no attention to the baseball game that was being broadcast. The ham and cheese sandwich he had made for himself for lunch was uneaten on the snack tray beside him.
Each time the mechanical bird came out of the clock to mark the passing of another quarter of an hour he prayed nothing had gone wrong.
Where is she? he wondered, on the verge of panic when the sun went down.
An hour later he heard the front door finally open. His eyes looked expectantly at the girl who walked into the house.
"It's done," she announced, bringing tears of relief to her grandfather's eyes.
"It's so late. I was afraid something had happened to you."
"The convention was really crowded. Between waiting to check out and then getting a seat on the bus, I didn't think I was ever going to get home."
"Damn my useless legs!" the old man cried. "Hunting vampires is man's work. My great grandfather would never have let a young girl bear such a responsibility."
Corinne hugged her grandfather and kissed him on the check. The two looked at each other, their eyes glowing with love and a shared madness that had, like the Victorian ball gown, been passed down through generations of the family.
"Relax, grandfather. I'm more than up to the job. I'll do the Van Helsing name proud. I promise."
Salem attended a Vampire Diaries convention where he got his picture taken with Ian Somerhalder. What a pair they make: Damon and demon!
