11. Alistair #2
His surprised “Oh,” is a bit of a shot to the heart.
My wanting to do something kind for the men that are my family shouldn’t be a shock.
Clearly, I’ve been neglecting my pack duties.
I attempt to mumble out an apology but he quickly silences it.
“No, man. Thanks. I’d…we’d really appreciate it.
I don’t know how long I’m gonna be here for this…
stuff. So just grab anything you and Spence might like.
I know he loves that noodle place down there.
The one with the funky Star Trek name…you know which one I mean.
Anyway, if you could also swing by the gym and pick him up on your way home, that would be amazing.
Like I said, I don’t know when I’m getting home, and it’s too damned cold for him to try to walk back to the apartment. ”
Of course Spencer would try to walk. What’s four miles to someone with legs that long?
But it’s too cold in December for that to be an option, he’ll get sick, then insist he isn’t, then get sicker trying to work.
I pinch the bridge of my nose at the thought of him bundled on the couch, wrapped in blankets and surrounded by crumpled tissues.
No, thank you. “No, of course. I’ll get our order in and then call him to let him know I’m on my way.
You want your usual banh mi? I can get you a small pho as well, something hot? ”
He chuckles in my ear. “Nah, I’m good. I tried it once and had this funky fishy flavor…
I’ll just stick with my sandwich. Thanks though…
I really do need to go now, but thanks, Alistair.
I appreciate it.” He hangs up before I can reply, and I turn off my car, lamenting stepping back out into the freezing wind.
Bustling inside, I’m hit with the heady aromas of meat and spices, making my mouth water.
I’ll admit that I’m a bit of a snob when it comes to takeout.
I was spoiled with choices before I moved here, and my previous pack were somewhat self-important.
Considering we only formed a pack together because we all went to and then worked at the same university, and not through any real camaraderie, it should have come as no surprise that they were so ready to ditch me at the whims of an omega.
Still, the scent that fills me reminds me of home, and Friday nights with my brothers. None of them were even remotely intellectual. In fact, Spence would have fit in better with my family than I ever did—with his size and football scholarship.
I have three older brothers, all alpha, all large and athletic.
Each one in a different sport—Carson plays football, Robert switched from soccer to rugby in college, and Ben couldn’t seem to decide between wrestling and kickboxing, though he eventually settled on mixed martial arts.
As long as it involved bludgeoning someone else into submission, they were all happy to participate.
Not that they’re bad guys, they were always overprotective and kind to me.
Much kinder than they had any reason to be.
We have nothing in common. Still, they are the one part of my old life I miss.
Of course, they all still live with our parents in SoCal most of the time since it’s easier than getting a part-time apartment on the off season.
I feel a brief pang of guilt in my chest that I haven’t spoken to any of them in so long.
I’m jarred out of my ruminations by a body shoving against me and a loud ringing as someone slams their hand down on the service bell at the front counter.
I don’t mind waiting. It’s the holiday and this location is always busy.
I already know what I want to order, but the young beta behind me starts humming and tapping his foot as the poor waitress bustles up to the front, stammering out an apology.
I try for a reassuring smile, telling her that it’s no problem, and place an order for our usual.
Spence always wants a large beef pho, a pork cutlet banh mi for Paul, and my medium chicken pho that I always have leftovers from—which Spence sneaks from the fridge after I’m in bed.
The man isn’t nearly as inconspicuous as he thinks he is.
The waitress smiles at me and confirms my order; then I pay and step to the side, waiting for my food.
The rude man behind me brushes past me again, complaining the entire time, which causes the poor woman to wilt under his stream of criticism at the delay.
He’s clearly an entitled idiot if he thinks he’s going to get fast service on the last day of school in a college town… during rush hour.
Turning my back to the debacle, and wishing that the poor server would call her manager to make this entitled asshole leave, I push the quick dial for Spence.
It rings five times, then goes to voicemail, which is full and not accepting new messages.
I swear he never deletes anything. A quick scroll through my contacts has me pulling up the number to the big guy’s job.
A sweetly feminine voice answers the phone. “Carpenter’s Gym, this is Kelly, how can I help you today?” Ahh, he’s probably mooning over the beta and didn’t even notice his phone.
“Yes, Kelly. This is Alistair, Spencer’s packmate.
I was hoping I could speak to him, please.
” My voice is pleasant, but I peer over my shoulder at the asshole who is getting progressively louder with the poor woman behind the counter.
I should probably say something. No one deserves that kind of abuse, certainly not at their job. I almost don’t notice Kelly’s reply.
“Sorry, Alistair, he’s with a client right now. Can I have him call you back, or…?” Her voice trails off mid-question, and it takes me a moment to realize that she’s waiting for me to fill in the blank.
“No. No, thank you. If you could just ask him to wait there. Paul is working late, and I’m on my way over to pick him up. But you know the drive from here, it’ll be a while.”
The laughter in her voice is obvious. “Of course! He’s going to be busy for another forty-five minutes anyway with Hope, but I’m sure he’ll appreciate the save when you get here.
” I don’t really understand her mirth at the situation, but quickly thank her and hang up—turning back to step in with the aggressive beta and the waitress.
Thankfully, a larger man has appeared behind the counter, an alpha by a quick sniff. His hand rests protectively on the girl’s shoulder as he glares down at the asshole who’s been verbally accosting her.
Sounding affronted, the pushy customer turns, cursing and muttering about “the worst service ever” and how he’ll never eat here again before stomping out the door. Lucky restaurant then if they don’t have to deal with that asshole for the foreseeable future.
There’s a loud “Order up,” from the back and the server turned casher turns to grab a bag with multiple containers in it, handing it to me. She still looks weepy, and the alpha behind her glares at me until I duck my head and murmur a quick, “Thank you.”
He leans over and kisses her on the head affectionately before turning and heading back to the kitchen, and she gives me a little smile as I leave.
Braving the cold wind again and hoping that Nadine’s engine hasn’t cooled down too much so the heater will work.
On the plus side, now I can at least get some music cued up on my phone for the ride.