Chapter 26 Bruno
brUNO
Bruno ordered three hot dogs with all the fixings. If there were any Clarice didn’t like, she could pick them off. Gil was in an eat-anything phase that Bruno was deeply grateful for. It made shopping a lot easier.
They came with a meal, so Bruno got a drink holder for the three cups, stacked the wrapped dogs carefully between them and piled them with the potato chip bags and napkins.
Then he plunged into the neon maze to get back to his son, hoping that Gil hadn’t descended into a hunger-fueled fit and torpedoed any chance he had with Clarice.
The first thing he saw was Clarice, standing at the end of the course, her club gripped tight in both hands.
For a split-second, he could simply appreciate her.
The floor lighting limned her in bright colors and accentuated every curve.
Her hair glowed green and purple, and her mouth was in a beautiful little O of astonishment.
Then he saw Gil, tapping around her feet gleefully as an armadillo.
“GIL!” Bruno’s arms spasmed around his load of food and he ended up squeezing the tray into his own chest. The drink lids held, but one of the hot dogs ended up smashing against him.
Bruno had only a moment to hope that the wrapping was secure and he wasn’t wearing too many condiments before he could straighten the tray and Gil was standing up as a boy again.
“HOT DOGS!” he crowed.
“Gil, what did you do?”
Gil seemed to realize his mistake at that moment, and his face crumpled. “I TOOK MY CLOTHES!” he protested. “No one was around but MISS CLARICE and she’s okay! You LIKE her!”
Clarice was staring at him, her eyes wide and her mouth a little agape.
“You aren’t supposed to shift in front of anyone,” Bruno said, instantly regretting his tone when Gil burst into tears. “Here, have a hot dog. You too, Clarice. What’s done is done. Dammit, I’m wearing my ketchup. I mean, DARN IT.”
He gave Clarice the bag of chips that felt the least crushed and took the leaking hot dog for himself.
Gil opened his bag of chips and dropped his soda, picking it up before too much could spill.
Bruno felt bad for the staff that would end up cleaning the mess when they left.
“I got you a Sprite,” he said, handing Clarice a cup. “They didn’t have ginger ale.”
He knew that he sounded growly and short and he didn’t blame Clarice for not meeting his eyes and for saying “Thank you” so meekly that Bruno barely heard her as she took her food and sat back down.
Bruno dabbed the worst of the ketchup off of his shirt and devoured his hot dog in a few bites standing up while Gil sniffled, drank his soda, and dropped most of his chips in his lap, ignoring the hot dog altogether.
“Don’t eat them off the floor,” Bruno cautioned, when Gil went after some fallen pieces.
“I was GOING to THROW them AWAY!” Gil snapped. He demonstrated by making four trips to the trash can with a single shard of chip from the floor each time. The fifth trip, he clearly forgot what he was doing and put the chip in his mouth. “OOPS.”
Clarice, who had been utterly silent, gave a wheeze like a tea kettle and broke into laughter, clutching her sides.
Bruno had to chuckle at first, and then a real belly laugh followed it, because Gil looked so surprised and Clarice’s merriment was so infectious.
When she had wiped tears away and sipped her soda to calm down, Clarice shook her head. “I can’t believe I just picked you up and put you in my car, Gil. I swear, I did not mean to kidnap your son, Bruno.”
She looked at him at last, and Bruno was relieved not to see horror or fear in her face, only wonder. “Can you do that, too? Can everyone at Tiny Paws? Is there a whole race of armadillo men in our midst?”
This was not at all how Bruno had anticipated coming clean with Clarice. He was keenly aware of the ketchup stain on his shirt, of Gil, who was tackling his hot dog at last, and Clarice, who was nibbling daintily from her broken chips. (Not many had survived whole.)
“We call ourselves shifters, and no, we’re not all armadillos. In fact, not many are at all. I know a few wolves, a bear, a stallion, ah…some other things.” Some secrets weren’t Bruno’s to share. “We’re not dangerous, we’re just people, like you are.”
“Except that you’re not just people, you can change into other things,” Clarice pointed out. “You know, I was sure that Gil had teleported into my car because I couldn’t figure out how else he could possibly have gotten there. I thought you must be wizards. I didn’t even consider shapeshifters.”
Bruno chuckled. “Nope, not wizards. All we can do is change into our other selves.”
“JACKSON can teleport!” Gil announced.
“GIL!” Bruno was appalled.
“I ALREADY TOLD HER,” Gil said unrepentantly.
“I can see why you’d need a special day care,” Clarice said with a helpless giggle.
“They’re little truth canons,” Bruno chuckled. “It can be hard.”
Clarice gave a little smirk. “And I guess you like me. From the mouths of babes.”
Bruno was glad for the surreal lighting. Men were not supposed to blush. “You have a very unfair advantage here.”
“I’d think that being a shifter gives you the advantage,” Clarice pointed out. “If things get too awkward, you can just…turn into a ball and roll away. I’d love to be able to do that.”
“That’s not always the best policy,” Bruno said, grinning. “Anyway, I’m glad you know. It’s always a big hurdle in a relationship with a human to let them in on the secret.”
“I can imagine,” Clarice said. “Can you tell who’s a shifter by sight? I mean, you’re speaking pretty confidently like you think I’m not, so I’m guessing I’ve got some kind of tell, or maybe there’s a secret shifter handshake that I don’t know.”
“I can tell,” Bruno said, coming to sit next to her on the picnic table. “Please finish your hot dog, Gil. They’re going to close the place soon.”
“I’m EATING,” Gil said, with his mouth full for emphasis.
“There’s a thing we shifters have called instinct,” Bruno said thoughtfully. “It’s like a bird’s sense of direction during migration, or a gut feeling. Shifters have a certain feel to them, when they are close enough. It’s like a hum, but not audible. A tingle.”
“That would definitely simplify things,” Clarice said. “Having a tingle, I mean.”
“I HAVE TO TINKLE!” Gil said, his mouth full of the last of his hot dog.
“Let’s find a rest room,” Bruno said with a sigh while Clarice looked like she was trying not to laugh again. “Wash your hands before you touch anything.”
“I have to touch the doors before I can wash them,” Gil pointed out helpfully.
“I can open them for you,” Bruno countered.
“Aren’t YOUR hands dirty?” Gil asked.
“Not as dirty as yours.”
Clarice just giggled helplessly and Bruno could only guess where her mind had gone.