Bennett Steadman

Mortal Days

Bennett was blessed with a quick mind and an innately logical “street sense,” which served him well as he sold drugs to help pay the bills his two-job mother could barely field. Bennett made sure he maintained a high grade-point average and attendance record as a cover that would put doubt to any nefarious deeds he might be caught doing. But, it was athletics that got him out of the ‘hood. He played basketball for Northwestern University and had plans to enter the NBA once he graduated. Unfortunately, a torn ACL derailed those plans. He graduated in 1996 with his MBA and, using money from selling drugs to his fellow college students, opened his first club. In 1998, Bennett Steadman had a vision. He wanted to create a club that encompassed the best Chicago had to offer in terms of nightlife. Red Number 5 would be the culmination of Bennett’s goal of nightclub domination.

However, the cost to realize his dream was steep. He didn’t want to give up his other clubs, but they didn’t make enough money to offset the cost of renovation. In order to make his vision a reality, he would swallow his pride and look for a business partner. Some wanted to buy the other clubs outright and hire Bennett as a consultant. Some didn’t offer enough money in comparison to what they were asking upon financial return. They treated Bennett as some young punk who got lucky with a couple of clubs that attracted a clientele the investors did not deem “ideal.” As he left Slick’s, feeling frustrated, a limo cut across his path. The back window rolled down and a plume of smoke rose released from the confines of the limo. “I got a proposition for you. You know who I am?” “Adze, right? You’re the O.G. who held the Warehouse back in the day. Yeah, I heard ‘o you.” The car interior smelled like Isaac Hayes and old Donald Goines novels. It exuded a history of the “game” that seeped into the crimson velvet padding on the rich, dark brown leather seats. Bennett stared at the gaunt, dark figure in a purple and black three-piece suit topped with a mustard-yellow herringbone pea coat before him. He noticed Adze’s thin fingers accentuated with French-manicured long nails as the O.G. took a slow drag from the clove cigarette he smoked.

Adze explained he needed a face and a front for his operation, and Bennett’s club idea solved his quandary. The Nosferatu offered to put up the money and connections to make the Red Number 5 thing happen if Bennett’s other businesses acted as Adze’s criminal fronts. Seeing Bennett suddenly become flustered as he tried to explain himself amused the vampire. “It’s cool, Youngblood. I understand. A true businessman would weigh his pros and cons. I’ll give you 24 hours, cool? Now, get the fuck out my car.”

Kindred Nights

“Yo, you Bennett Steadman?” Bennett didn’t recognize the voice that called his name as he parked in his condominium’s underground garage. He pulled the Glock from the glove compartment and slowly got out of the car. The bullets had no effect as his assailant was on Bennett in a matter of seconds. As the vampire sunk their fangs into Bennett’s neck, his last thought was the memory of his father’s violent death before he blacked out. He barely felt the drops of blood that fell on his lips as the vampire bit its own wrist, giving Bennett the nourishment for his transformation. Bennett Steadman woke up in his own bed. It was 24 hours to the minute when he was supposed to meet Adze and give him his answer concerning their potential partnership and he was thirsty, so very thirsty. Bennett was more than a little surprised to see Adze sitting at the foot of his bed, flanked by two large bodyguards. But, he wasn’t frightened of Adze anymore as Bennett ran his tongue across his new, razor-sharp incisors. They were now the same. Adze offered a bodyguard to drink from, and demanded an answer to his proposal.