Chapter 28
Ophelia
"I can't believe you have the nerve to show up here."
Red stands there with a devil-may-care smile but is much less relaxed and mischievous than when Theo does it. Straight pieces of black hair fall into his face, obscuring the intense, nearly white-blue of his eyes, but I don't need to see his eyes to know they're rolling.
"We have an official meeting, Your Highness. I'm here to pick you up. Come on."
I slam the door in his face.
Turning on my heel, I storm into the kitchen, where Greta dances to mariachi music playing on her phone while she empties the fridge to prepare for grocery shopping.
Leftovers get rearranged from oldest to newest, front to back. It's a ritual of hers, and though I never had anything but stale bread and old cheese in my fridge, I like her efficiency.
Red strolls into the kitchen behind me.
"Oh, you handsome devil, you," Greta coos, taking his face in her hands and kissing his cheek. She's thoroughly charmed by all the alphas in my life. I think she secretly likes to picture Red's face in her romance book heroes; he is quite devastating. Not that I've noticed. I'm too mad.
"Nice to see you too, Greta."
"You eating enough? Are you hungry? Here, the boys are spoiled enough; why don't you take this home to your pack," Greta shoves a container in his hands. A moment later, stacking three more on top of it. Red's grinning ear to ear.
Leaning on the counter, I sip my juice, giving Red a look that says, seriously, you don't even like chicken casserole. His look in return says shut up and let the hot old lady feed me.
When Greta's done loading his arms up, he gives her a side hug goodbye before turning to me. "Come on Phe, we're gonna be late."
I debate arguing. I could steal one of the guy's car keys, but I don't have my license. I could pretend to stay mad at Red. In the end that all just sounds like too much effort, so I follow him out of the house, opening the door for him so he can set the stack of prepared meals on the truck bed seat between us and climb in.
"So what's this about anyway," I droll.
"Janey's meeting us with Roxy and Dr. Rubens from the OFA and someone from the mayor's public relations office."
"You're kidding."
"Nope."
A thought occurs to me. "Where are we meeting?"
Red gives me a cheeky grin, "Queenie's."
I burst out a laugh. "Wow, how'd you pull that off?"
"It was Roxy's idea, actually. Jess will be there with her, too. But we didn't give them much choice to refuse. Where else we gonna meet in South Loop? Besides, the mayor and the good doctor wanted to see how the other half lives."
I nod. "Well, I'm happy I get to set foot in Queenie's again, since you fired me."
"You quit."
"I gave two weeks' notice! You told me not to come back!"
"You know I love you, Phe, but you're a terrible waitress. And honestly, there are other people that need a paycheck more than you these days. I don't mean to be harsh, but…"
"Yeah, yeah," I grumble. Of course, he's right. He's absolutely right, and since I've accepted my pack completely, though I've only bonded half, I've also accepted my role as Ophelia Constantine, hence this meeting we're headed to.
I changed the subject because, even though he's right, I'll really miss working at Queenie's. Wish I'd gotten a proper goodbye. I'll just have to get my license so I can drive down and hang out on occasion.
"Have you told the staff about it?"
Red scratches his scruffy jaw. Sometimes, he shaves clean; sometimes, he gets lazy and lets it grow for a few weeks. His hair is straight and dark as night, a bright contrast against his pale skin.
"Yeah, we had a meeting a few days ago. Some are nervous and don't want to be involved. Franky's excited, but Zach less so. Roxy obviously is on board."
"So what are you going to do?" I ask. The backdrop changes as we slowly emerge from the mountains toward downtown. Red's vintage truck sticks out like a sore thumb amongst all these High Hills sleek, expensive cars.
"I want Queenie's to stay a refuge. We can just keep the guise that we sponsor from behind the scenes and support omegas rights without saying we offer protection. I don't want a bunch of High Hills alphas to come sniffing around. And if the bouncers have to start keeping people out at the door based on an assumption of where they're from, we might start to lose business."
"So, not much will change."
"Not much will change officially."
"Is Zach doing okay?" I ask. He's the only male omega at Queenie's, and though I don't know much about his past, I do know omega men don't always have the easiest life. They’re rare, making their experience with alphas either amazing—treasured and adored—or the opposite. Given his reticence and general distrust of alphas, I can only guess what he’s been through.
“He’ll be fine. He’s safe with us.”
Red crosses the familiar sixth bridge, and though I only moved away a few weeks ago, I already miss South Loop. I'm excited about these new
Chapters but sad, too.
We park on the street a block up from Queenie's. People wave and stop Red to chat as we walk. He takes care of a lot of people on these streets, either by connecting them with jobs, sharing information, or through financial support. He and his brothers occasionally show up with baseball bats—or guns if necessary—to put pressure on somebody, an employer, an abusive husband, anyone hurting, oppressing or causing trouble. Red's pack is infamous around here.
That reminds me, I need to stop and check on Waylon soon. I tell Red as much when he assures me he'll be taken care of.
A few minutes later, Red holds the door for me in Queenie's back alley, and we walk through the quiet hall. The club doesn't open until the afternoon, so mornings are eerily silent.
Roxy and her mate Jess are setting up coffee at one of the VIP booths. Janey arrives a few minutes later, followed by Dr. Rubens and the mayor's public relations officer, a beta man named Saul Stevens, a few minutes after that. I can smell their discomfort in the air, but they put on their best smiles and follow us to the booth. Coffee and croissants from a pasteleria down the street are shared.
"My goodness, this is incredible," Dr. Rubens says, crumbs falling onto his plate.
"Maria's Treats. They make the best-baked desserts in the city as far as I'm concerned," Roxy says. He agreed with another mouthful, eyebrows high, surprised someone from South Loop could bake so well.
On that note, Janey dives in with a list of complaints. She may be a beta, but she's just as involved, between her own family, patients she treats, and our underground network of pharmaceutical exchanges just to support the local omega population.
When she tells them that without the physical threat from the Dante Pack, her heat clinic would fall prey to alphas, just like the other clinics, both Rubens and Saul deny there could be even the remote possibility that an alpha could sneak in and assault an omega in heat.
"I've seen it happen so many times," Janey says matter-of-factly.
"It happened to me more than once," Roxy adds. "Before I found my pack." Jess's jaw ticks while he squeezes Roxy's hand.
I pipe in, "I know omegas it's happened to as well. If they're willing, you can speak to them directly to confirm. This isn't a fluke, it's real and it's happening. The heat clinics must become a priority. They need better security, and the alphas taking advantage of omegas must be held accountable.
"These are reasons why I take heat suppressants, which I can't even get prescribed, even though there's no law against it. An omega shouldn't have a sketchy heat clinic or hiding in the woods in a cabin with someone watching the door with a shotgun as their only option."
Rubens is the first to respond. "I don't understand why you aren't prescribed suppressants."
So I tell him. Janey and I go into detail explaining how patronizing doctors are, how dismissive. And it's only gotten worse in recent years; whether that's because the perception of omegas is changing because of the way the OFA is pushing graduates to become glorified sex dolls and housekeepers, I don't know.
I told him that the last time I went to the doctor, I was given a pamphlet on the OFA.
"Are you certain Fletcher isn't involved in this?" Red asks bluntly.
Rubens shakes his head vigorously, "Fletcher has her own agenda, but she wouldn't go this far."
"So what is it? Something or someone is perpetuating this." I can see the wheels turning behind Red's eyes. I want to ask if he thinks someone's getting a payout, but in case the two men in suits aren't picking up on Red's obvious implication, I don't want to spoil it. Regardless, Rubens and Saul keep their thoughts to themselves.
Roxy and I tick off a few more boxes of complaints. In the end, we tell Saul that the mayor better add omegas rights to his next campaign slogan, or all of South Loop—which, poor as we may be, has a hefty voting population—will stand against him.
The men in suits leave, followed by Janey, Roxy, and Jess. I tell Red I want to check out the progress at C-Block and visit with Melanie. She's at work when we get to the apartment, but I've been missing Red, so we spend the day together.
He scrutinizes all the renovation choices in my old apartment, which I still have the keys for. He asks stupid things like, "Is this floor even real hardwood?" or "I don't think they used mold-resistant sheetrock." I throw a stray piece of green foam at him, and he ducks, laughing.
"Do you think my mates are the ones doing the actual construction? You just need something to make fun of them about."
"Well, they should be overseeing it at least."
I'm not arguing because he doesn't actually care. This is how Red communicates. He loves to play the devil's advocate, even with me.
A couple of hours later, we eat dinner in Mel's cramped apartment with her kiddos, Brian and Polly. Once my apartment is finished, she'll move in there temporarily while hers gets updated, then she'll move back.
Mel confirms I'm working the catering gigs I already agreed to, but she's not making eye contact as she asks, and I can tell by her inflection that she thinks I'll say no. I don't know if she thinks I'm too good to do it or something stupid like that, but I assure her that yes, of course, I will.
Red drives me home, and it's bittersweet—a testament to how much my life has changed. Since I no longer live there, saying goodbye to South Loop makes me sad, but I love going home to my alphas.