a movie out of it, presto! You’re rich and famous.”
“Shit.”
“What do you mean, shit? You got something against money?”
“I’m doing okay.”
“Sure, you’re doing okay. But how many best-sellers have you had?”
“You can do just fine without ever having a book on the best-seller lists. Those guys on the lists, they’re making millions.”
Pete whistled softly. “That much?”
“Sure. Some of those guys get a million up front. Or more. That’s before paperback rights, foreign rights, movie sales.”
“Christ, and you’re not interested?”
“I didn’t say I’m not interested. I just don’t want to mess with any vampire.”
“Hey, let’s not kid ourselves here. The thing’s not a vampire. It’s just some broad with a stake in her chest. But we don’t
“I don’t know.”
They left the lights of Mulehead Bend behind. Pete turned off the main road and headed west into the desert. There were no more streetlamps. The headlights pushed paths of brightness up the lane in front of them. The moon cast a pale glow over the bleak landscape of boulders, scrub bushes, cacti, and the jagged mountains in the distance. It looked cold and forlorn out there. Larry suddenly wanted to turn back.
It was bad enough, driving through this bleak terrain on the way to a jukebox.
But that obviously wasn’t what Pete had in mind.
“What are we
“Just what we planned. Bring the jukebox back. Or just take some pictures, if we can’t carry it.”
“Then what’s this vampire business?”
“Just a thought. Hey, you don’t like the idea, fine. I’m not trying to push you into something. But Jesus, why on earth would you want to pass up a chance to make a million bucks?”
“The thing scares me.”
“That’s the point.” He reached over, took the bottle from Larry, drank from it and handed it back. “The point is, you’re in the business of scaring people. Right?”
“Scaring them with fiction. Not the real thing. They want real scares, they can watch the TV news.”
“This wouldn’t be all that different from your novels. Hey, we are talking about vampires, not homicides or nuclear war. The only difference is, this would be a true story. And it’d fit right in with your image, you know? This is the sort of thing that’d make publicity people drool. Get this, ‘Renowned horror writer discovers vampire on weekend outing.’ It’s a natural. They’d put you on the tube, man. And here’s the best part, you could
“Oh, wonderful.”
“Just let ‘
“Great. You’ve got me carting a corpse around on the talk-show circuit.”
“We’re talking about a million bucks, Lar. I’d sure do it.”
“Be my guest.”
“I can’t write for shit. And you’ve got...” His head snapped around. “I’ve
“Your Watson, your Boswell.”
“Yeah, whatever. God, I wish we had a recorder. We oughta have all this on tape for the book.”
“You’re really serious.”
“Damn straight. Can you remember all this? Hell, we should’ve laid off the booze.”
“Right.” Larry took another swallow of it.
“I see this as a major book and movie. It’s a natural.”
“It does have potential,” Larry admitted.
“Potential? It’ll be a blockbuster.”
“It’d need a story, though.”
“Hey, man, we’re living the story right now. You start it off with last Sunday when we found the thing. You write it just the way it happened. That’s a few chapters worth, right there. Then you’ve got tonight. And how we go off to get the jukebox, but I talk you into getting the vampire instead.”
“That’s maybe fifty pages,” Larry said. “Then what?”
“You just tell it like it happens. Describe us going into the hotel, taking out the corpse, putting it in the van and taking it home.”
“To whose house?”
“Have you got any good hiding places?”
“Nowhere that Jean wouldn’t find it. Besides, I don’t like keeping secrets from her.”
“How do you think she’d react?”
“To having a corpse in the house?”
“In the garage, say.”
“I don’t think she’d be delighted by the idea.”
“Barb would just shit.”
“So much for the blockbuster,” Larry said.
Pete went silent.
Thank God, Larry thought. Good thing we’re both married. That ought to nip the idea right in the bud.
He felt enormous relief. He took a drink of whiskey and sighed.
“I’ve got it!” Pete blurted. “That’s part of the story! We need stuff to happen after we get the thing, right? You can put all the stuff in there about Jean and Barbara giving us grief about the thing. But we talk them into letting us keep it.”
“Now you’re talking fiction.”
“We just explain to them, you know? It’s not like we’ll be keeping the thing forever. Just a couple of months, maybe, while you’re working on the book. With a big jackpot at the end. I think the gals might go for it.”
“Where’s the big jackpot for Barbara?”
“I’m getting a cut, right?”
“Yeah, I may cut your throat. Then I can do a book on that while I’m in prison.”
“What do you say, twenty percent? My idea, after all. You wouldn’t do it at all if it weren’t for me.”
“True enough. Not that I’m planning to do it at all, regardless. The whole thing’s crazy.”
“That’s what makes it so great. It’s crazy. It’s wild! You think Stephen King would pass up a chance like this? Hell, he’d probably do it for the fun of it.”
“Why don’t you give
“ ‘Cause you’re my pal. I don’t want to take this away from you. This is your big chance.”
“Thanks.”
“So, what do you say? Are you in?”
If you tell him no, Larry thought, he’ll never forgive you. He’s probably already calculated twenty percent of a million bucks. It’d be like robbing him. No more outings with him and Barbara, no more drinks and dinner with them. The end of all that.
He thought about the fun they’d had during the past year.
He thought about Barbara stretched out on the sofa, and the way she had tucked the back of her robe between her legs.
Wouldn’t necessarily end the friendship, he told himself. But it would sure put a strain on it.
And Pete was right about the book. It could be big. It could be another
