7. Candice
Chapter 7
H e didn’t know, and I will not cry. If I just keep telling myself that, maybe I can keep the tears in this time. “Oh, of course, no…no, we’re good. I was just going to say thank you, give you my key, and ask if you needed more information before Stephanie takes me home.” There we go, a successful effort. Lots of babbling and I feel the heat around my eyes and nose, but nothing feels drippy so I am going to call this a win.
The mechanic, Gabe, is big too–why are so many people around here so damned tall–but unlike Dr. Leo’s sinewy grace, this man is built like a bear. A solid cylinder of muscle straight down. Topped with dark brown hair, shaved on the sides, and dark five o'clock shadow, he looks intimidating as hell, and the way he is staring at me with his whiskey colored eyes full of impatience, it is taking everything in me not to scurry away and find a place to hide.
“Shit…I’m so sorry, ma’...Candice, yeah, if you wanna hand me your keys. I think we got all your information in our system already from your earlier appointment. If you could just write down your number, just to be sure…or…er…I can get it from Leo if that’s easier”
I look back and forth between Dr. Leo and Gabe, oh…
Pack–alphas and pack–and no wonder they smell so good. Both spicy and sweet, but different flavors that I want to sample. Gabe reminds me of the cherry pipe tobacco Grandpa used to smoke, and Dr. Leo is both calm and refreshing with that chai and citrus. It takes everything in me to hold in the whine that tries to escape.
But of course–now I am shaking again. Thankfully Stephanie knows my issues and is a lot more observant than I am right now. I don’t even realize I am backing up until she wraps her arm around my shoulders. “Let's go grab some dinner, then get you home, ok hon?”
Leo starts to say something but she cuts him off. “Later. I can text you over her number or you can get it from her file tomorrow. Now, she needs food and her nes-” I yank her arm and cut her off before she can finish that sentence. Keeping my omega status quiet has been difficult, and while I appreciate Stephanie’s concern, she almost outed me.
Seeming to realize my abrupt change. “Tomorrow,” she says again with finality to Dr. Leo and Gabe, before turning back to me. “Sorry, I know you’re not a fan of sitting in the diner, but maybe we can get it to go. I can hang out for a bit when I drop you off?” She looks at me encouragingly. God, I’ve missed her.
“No, well, yes, but I mean…” I have to re-organize my thoughts. I’m more scattered today than usual after everything that’s happened. “We can sit in the diner and talk for a while. I can’t stay too late. Iggy’s at home alone, and I don’t want to leave her for too long–she gets destructive.” One eyebrow goes up.
”Oh. Wait, yes, your iguana.” She wraps one arm back around my shoulders–not completely touching, just offering comfort–and leads me to her car.
The ride to the diner doesn’t take long, and there’s no line. The Oak Flats Diner is one of only three places in town to get food, not counting the grocery store and the gas station. There’s also the Jade Dragon Chinese Buffet over near the interstate. There’s a generic burger franchise close to the interstate too, but the diner is the one closest to my house, so I’ve gotten take out there a couple of times. They have good pie.
Stephanie gets us settled in a booth near the back, and orders me a loaded chili and cheese baked potato and a milkshake. Not two flavors that really go together, but it seems she still knows my favorites. After everything else, I really appreciate her buying me dinner. I don’t feel like eating, but I know I should, and the shake is cool and soothing on my sore throat after all the crying I did earlier .
She picks over her salad, and I finally manage a smile. “You still like that rabbit food?” I point at her plate.
“Well, no, not really, but old habits die hard, you know that.” I manage a non-committal, “hmm” around a sip of my shake. Not sure what to talk about. It feels like forever since we last really talked. We were so close until we graduated high school. We used to have sleepovers at her house, her dad made the best chocolate chip cookies.
She isn’t really talking, she’s trying to give me some space, and I appreciate it. But I have to say something. “So, other than saving fuzzy lives, what have you been up to?” Her head pops up from watching the fork push a crouton around in a moat of ranch dressing. “Not much, honestly. Mom and Dad still live at the same place, but I have an apartment near here. You know I work at Fuzzy Friends. I did my internship there after college, and was able to save up to buy in the partnership two years ago. No real romance prospects.”
She waggles her eyebrows at me. “But Dr. Leo’s hot.” I blush, knowing she’s teasing me. Stephanie likes men and women, but she actively avoids alphas, almost as much as me. Though her reasoning has more to do with not dealing with alpha sized levels of bullshit than anything designation related. She likes to think of herself as a drama free zone.
“He is, and he’s also an alpha. You know Grandpa taught me to stay away from alphas. And, I’m not exactly standard omega material that most alphas are looking for anyway.” I wave my fork vaguely towards my plate of melted cheese and chili goodness and my belly squish.
“Besides, I’m good.”
Lie
“I have my own house, steady work, and a few people I talk to online. And hopefully my friend back, if you’re up for the random occasional hangout with a complete social introvert?” The offer seems to catch her by surprise, which I should have expected, we haven’t really talked in so long. But her smile is encouraging. Deciding to take the plunge, I ask the burning question. “So, what do you know about hippo anatomy?”
By the time I finish explaining why I asked, she has given up on her salad, and ordered her own salted caramel milkshake since I refused to share mine. We talk for a while about my work, some of my more interesting clients and the more risque commission requests I get, until she is laughing so hard that the waitress comes over and pointedly leaves our bill, tapping on her watch and giving us annoyed looks.
“Shit, I didn’t realize what time it was,” Stephanie says, wiping a tear from her eyes. I had just been regaling her with a tale of another commission I had involving characters from a popular Saturday morning cartoon show, and anatomical additions that are not physically possible without dying of blood loss during arousal.
“Better get you home. Your lizard’ll be worried.” She leans into me, attempting a joke. But I feel bad for leaving Iggy home alone for so long, and I’m not sure how she’s going to react to Sunny not coming home with me. “You don’t like Iguanas?” I ask her, as she pays the cashier and we walk out to her car.
“It’s not that I don’t like them…They’re just so scaly. And they aren’t affectionate.” She looks at me, expecting me to agree, but I can’t. “Ok, say, you have a dog, you get home, the dog is happy to see you, it runs up, wags its tail, and is overjoyed by your presence. You don’t get that with lizards.”
I smile slightly to myself, resolving to bring her inside to meet Iggy before she leaves me at the house.
W hy are mornings so bright? I pull the covers over my head and try to burrow farther under the blankets, but no luck. I need to get up and check on Iggy. She was lying in her hammock last night when I got home, and nothing seemed destroyed. But we didn’t leave the diner till late.
I didn’t realize how much I had missed Stephanie, or human interaction in small doses. The diner kicked us out about two hours after closing time–which was still pretty early, really. So when she brought me home I invited her in, Iggy scaled her like a tree and Stephanie screamed and flailed a bit before finally admitting that yes, lizards can be affectionate .
Stephanie didn’t stay long. After everything that happened with Sunny, I needed rest, and neither of us wanted to strain our newly restored friendship. Being at home, surrounded by memories of Sunny, I felt raw all over again. Stephanie gave me a brief one arm hug, more than I was really comfortable with, and excused herself since she still has to work today. While not in a hurry to do it again, having dinner with Stephanie was…nice. But I’ve reached my limit on human interaction for the year now.
No one else has been in my house since I moved here. After Grandpa died I sold his place and used the money to buy this one. I didn’t need anything that big, and other than the movers and the realtor, no one has been here since I closed on it. So, even having someone here for such a brief visit was a bit of a mental strain, and I fell asleep shortly after she left.
Stretching over, I grab my phone from the charger to see four missed calls, from three different numbers.
Okay…..
I pull up my voicemail, and the first one is from Gabe, telling me my car should be ready around one, and that he needs to talk to me before I go to the police station.
The second is from Stephanie, checking in.
The last voicemail is from the sheriff's department apologizing, and saying they can take my statement over the phone, but please call them at my earliest possible convenience.
And the last missed call was 10 minutes ago, from Gabe again, but he didn’t leave a message this time .
Time…what time is it?
I shake my phone to take me back to the home screen, 12:11 P.M. Shit, how did I sleep so late?
Getting up, I try to wake up enough to call Gabe back. Dealing with finances on the car situation is gonna be a bitch, and I still haven’t posted an update online. So much stuff needs done. I didn't even feel like showering last night, so I took a super quick one after Stephanie left. Not even bothering to dry my hair, I look like a dandelion after sleeping on it wet. That’s ok. No one is gonna see it anyway. Wrapping my hair up in a messy bun, I wash my face and grab a clean bra and a long flannel out of the closet–getting dressed on my way to the kitchen.
Iggy is sitting on top of the coffee maker, looking imperious. While I don’t like her up on the counters, I let her remain queen of all she surveys for a while longer so I can grab a bowl of cereal and pour milk on it before flopping back to the couch to try to wake up.
I curl my legs under me and hit the button to return Gabe's call while I wake up with my sugary overload drenched in moo juice. He picks up on the second ring, and instead of people in the background I hear a loud hum noise –well, maybe they have a fan in the shop –I’m sure it gets warm in there. “Hello, Miss Candice, thank you for callin’ me back,” He starts before I can say anything.
“Oh, no problem, er, you said you needed to talk to me before I go into the police station, but now it doesn’t seem like I need to do that. ”
I hear his low chuckle on the other end, “No, ma’am, you do not.” The laugh is a bit heavier now, gruff and kind of growly, but not unpleasant. “I also won’t be able to pick up my car right now. I need to call Stephanie or figure out how to get to the shop. I only have the one means of transportation.” I don’t mention that maybe if I don’t pick it up yet, I won’t have to pay for it yet–I hope they won’t press the matter.
“Yes’m, I'm sorry again about last night. Leo told me what happened. I’m sure I came off soundin’ like an ass, but it wasn’t my intent. As for a ride to the shop to get your car, well, I reckon I can help you out there. I just pulled into your driveway.” I let out a loud squawk, nearly dumping half my cereal on the couch trying to stand up. “I’m sorry, can you please repeat that?”
The phone hangs up, just as the doorbell rings.
Where the hell did I leave my pants last night?
Scrambling back towards my nest I yell, “Just a minute,” at the top of my lungs. Iggy, seeing my struggle to get back into my pants as either time to play or time for a walk, decides to skitter down from her perch, across the floor, and claw her way up my still naked leg.
Fairly certain I am now bleeding down my thigh, I manage to get the waistband tucked over my stomach squish before opening the door. Gabe is standing there, eyes crinkled and trying not to laugh at either my appearance or the iguana hanging off my hair.
I realize a moment too late when I open the storm door that I haven’t put on any de-scenter this morning. I look up into the scruffy face of Gabe. His pupils blow wide, the whiskey color of the iris almost completely eclipsed, all humor dropping from his features.
“Omega,” he croaks out, right as I slam the door in his face and turn the deadbolt.