My Dark Knight (Kings of Hell MC 2)
Knight’s mouth curved and he tapped the roof of Elliot’s car. “Good. And now go back to your palace, Count.”
Elliot didn’t start his car just yet, watching Knight walk off into the darkness. With the patches on the back of his jacket and broad shoulders he looked like someone Elliot wouldn’t want to anger and yet Knight not only hadn’t hurt Elliot’s body, but showed him kindness.
Elliot smiled at his phone once Knight was gone. Maybe there was a method to his madness after all.
Chapter 5
It took Elliot three days to recover from the violent illness that took hold of him after the barefoot walk of shame in the rain, and he didn’t want to present himself to the public—or to Knight for that matter—looking like shit. So it was only today that he was making his first video in a while, announcing that he would be touring the famously inaccessible Fane mansion. He might have been a little bit creative about the way he earned himself an invitation, claiming that his videos got noticed, but it wasn’t exactly untrue.
He had been recognized by Knight. Even if the way things had gone down was slightly unorthodox. Elliot couldn’t stop thinking about how illicit it had felt to be wrapped in Knight’s jacket. If any of Knight’s biker brothers saw them walk together that way, Knight would have likely been in trouble, but he’d still done what he’d felt was right.
Elliot sat in front of the spotty mirror he’d placed on the windowsill of the dining area in his trailer. When his father was still alive, he used to sleep curled up on the corner sofa by the plywood table, since the trailer only had one bed. Right next to where he was sitting now.
He’d already put away his costume and changed into his usual fare of black with black and black. Jeans paired with a T-shirt was the standard getup, but with the weather getting colder by the day, he wore his thickest turtleneck and warm hoodie as well. The overcast sky provided little light and rendered everything gray, so he switched on a small lamp to see his face better and pushed his black bangs off his face. Maybe the new video would earn him a sponsor? His work didn’t attract many ads, and so monetization was shit. His crowdfunding page had grown since last month, but it wouldn’t be enough to replace the broken radiator if he still wanted to eat.
For a brief moment, he looked around the cramped space that had belonged to his father since the eighties, first as a holiday home, then as permanent residence. Its age showed, with stains of damp permanently ingrained into the whitish walls and wood-patterned finish cracking on the cheap furniture. Built to serve for camping during the summer, the trailer had little to offer in terms of temperature isolation, but it was the only home Elliot had ever known, so he tried to make it work.
Still, despite constant attempts to stay in good spirits, the inevitability of not having the things others deemed a necessity was chewing off his pride bit by bit. This wasn’t a place where he’d invite anyone decent, nor the place he wished to stay in for the rest of his life. He was meant for greater things, and just because he was stuck now didn’t mean he’d always have this few options.
It could have been worse after all. He could have been homeless. His father could have been still alive, bugging him every day, stealing his food, and wrecking his shit.
Elliot took a deep breath to stop thinking about the old man.
He looked into the mirror instead. He and his father were nothing alike. Night and day really, with Father blond, tanned, and blue-eyed and Elliot with black hair, dark eyes and pale skin. Elliot likely took after his mother, but he could never be certain of it because Father had burned all pictures of her in a fit of rage years ago.
Elliot rubbed the last of the white face paint off his jaw with a soft cloth, which was much cheaper than cotton wool pads in the long run, and he’d rather invest those few cents saved into more makeup.
He didn’t exactly hate his face. It was okay and attracted men when that was Elliot’s intention, but it didn’t give him the same boost of confidence the theatrical makeup did.
As Elliot, he was a high school dropout who lived in a trailer park.
As The Count, he had fans, charisma, and a biting sense of humor.
As The Count, he was a person of interest to Knight, the vice president of the Kings of Hell Motorcycle Club, a man who was into all the things Elliot liked, even if they didn’t see eye to eye most of the time where it came to the interpretation of facts. Without the colorful persona, Knight wouldn’t have looked at Elliot twice.