Rhodes
Sunday was supposed to be a full day of reunion fun, but when we arrive in the solarium for brunch, Lloyd is standing there to greet everyone and let everyone know that we’re likely going to end early today instead of leaving Monday morning.
I watch Bennett carefully. I’m not sure how good an actor he is, but I’m incredibly impressed when his eyebrows knit together in concern and he asks, “What happened?” His hand digs into the scruff along Lee’s neck with nervous energy.
My pack looks disinterested. Many noses are in the air as they smell for food. It’s later than they usually eat. Schnookums and Floofy Pants are going to get hangry soon.
“Four of our classmates are missing,” Lloyd says.
Bennett inhales sharply, hand coming up to his mouth. “How did that happen? They went to school here, right? How could they have gone missing? Surely they’re not lost…?”
Lloyd shrugs, shaking his head. “We don’t know. The police are combing the area. We are surrounded by dense woods.” His tone is both indifferent and amused. I’m guessing that’s a comment he heard from someone.
“Probably just got drunk last night and passed out somewhere,” I comment dismissively.
Bennett looks at me, even as Lloyd nods. “Does that happen?”
I join Lloyd’s nodding. “Especially the upperclassmen, yes. I’d say, at least three times a year.”
“I’ve been told it’s happened at several reunions, too. Unsurprisingly, by the same people who got drunk, lost in the woods, and passed out in high school. Reliving their glory days, I suppose.”
“Who’s missing?” Bennett asks.
Lloyd meets my eyes. I’m not sure if there’s a message there. “Miller, Vance, Frump, and Fox.”
Bennett looks between us. “Were they caught drinking in school?”
I shrug as Lloyd says, “Yes, actually.”
This makes Bennett smile. A bright ray of sunshine finally breaking through a foggy day. He relaxes next to me. “Oh, good. Been there, done that, right?”
Lloyd actually blinks several times through his squinting as if Bennett’s smile really is giving off a burning bright light. I can’t stop my own smile.
Velvet nudges my hand and looks up at me with big eyes. He licks his lips and makes a grumpy sound.
“I’m sorry, Lloyd. My babies are hungry, and they’re going to riot if I don’t feed them soon. When will we be notified if this event ends early?” I ask.
Lloyd looks at my pack and, almost absently, answers, “Before brunch is over. We’re asking everyone to remain in the solarium and mingle until we’re instructed.”
“Thanks,” I answer and drop my hand to Bennett’s lower back and guide him away.
As we turn into the room and begin weaving through the tables, I note that there are a lot of heads leaning together and whispering. For just a moment, I feel like I’m transported back to high school. It feels distinctly juvenile. Appropriate, I suppose.
At a table in the back corner, against a wall of windows overlooking the courtyard, I spot Sara, Dianna, Bethany, Heathcliff, and Bobby.
Heathcliff spots us and waves his hand for us to join them.
The pups immediately make their rounds to say hello with wagging tails and lolling tongues.
I’m incredibly proud that even Bobby has warmed up a bit to the pack.
As soon as we sit, my pack is brought trays of food by a couple of different servers. We’ve heard them arguing about who gets to bring them food since yesterday morning. Probably because my babies sneak in kisses when the serving staff crouches down to set their food out.
Bennett beams at me as he watches how much the servers love them. I can practically see his pride in how my babies have them wrapped around their tails. While we’re busy admiring my babies getting their morning loves, Robert, Rosemary, Thornton, and Janet complete our table.
It’s so strange. I never had a clique in high school, but this feels distinctly like we’ve done this a hundred times before. It feels… natural.
Brushing the weirdly comfortable and awkwardly touching feelings away, I turn my attention back to the room at large. No, this is normal—gossip flying from one table to another.
“What’s going on?” I ask, glancing at a small group of our classmates gathering in the doorway with Lloyd.
“Dunno. I guess the Fucked-Up Four went out for drinks last night and haven’t come back,” Sara says, shrugging.
“And…?”
Thornton shakes his head. “That’s it. I don’t know why there’s so much commotion over it. Frump’s wife is all teary. Miller’s wife looks relieved.”
“It’s a little weird,” Rosemary agrees, “but I don’t know why it’s garnered such interest. This isn’t the first time they haven’t been at breakfast because they drank themselves into a stupor the night before.”
“Everyone wants to know what those assholes are up to,” I note. “We’re still keeping tabs on them so we know where to avoid going.”
“Well,” Sara says, placing a napkin on Dianna’s lap before putting one on her own. “I, for one, don’t give a fuck where they are or what hole their pathetic, drunk asses fell into.”
As if to prove that we don’t care what the assholes are up to, we turn our attention to breakfast. Conversation turns to life, and Bennett seems happy to watch me talk about Van Doren Technologies and how it relates to this new wave of combating the silencing of actual news that’s being replaced with disinformation.
He looks like he’s going to become an exploding star when Bethany and I go on a rant about it for quite some time.
Our conversation falters when a hush covers the room.
We follow everyone’s curiosity to find a small group of police officers at the door with Lloyd.
Two of the women belonging to the Fucked-Up Four are sobbing dramatically.
I’m pretty sure one of them isn’t even producing tears.
Like a four-year-old who hasn’t figured out how to successfully fake being upset to get their way.
As we’re wrapping up brunch and exchanging numbers to keep in touch, silence falls over the solarium as a woman’s shrieking in the distance echoes off the walls. All seven dogs get to their feet and make a barrier between our table and the rest of the room, ears up, tails down.
A third wife of the missing drunk men falls through the door before anyone can catch her, wailing that their husbands are dead.
Silence follows her claim for a beat. Then everyone is talking over each other, so we don’t actually hear anything more than that for quite some time.
The eleven of us watch the moment unfold as we wait for actual events to reach us instead of speculation and rumor. We’re not the only table doing this. Maybe half. The other half is in fear mode, as if there’s a killer on the loose.
I glance at Bennett. Just to see what his expression is.
The megawatt sunshine has faded as he looks around the room with concern.
Honestly, had I not seen him with my own two eyes last night, I’d say he really had no idea what happened.
My gaze drops to the laceration on his arm.
It’s covered under a long-sleeve shirt and wrapped in bandages, but I know it’s there.
The solarium remains a mixture of silent observation of the police at the front talking to Lloyd and whispering as if they have inside information instead of speculation.
We’re asked to stay in the room while the police investigate. “The police will be going through the dorms,” Lloyd says.
“Uh, no,” someone closer to him states as they get to their feet. I don’t recognize them. “I don’t give permission for someone to be in a space where my personal belongings are without my presence.”
Before anyone can address them, someone else shouts, “Does that mean they were murdered?”
Chaos breaks out for several minutes.
Bennett settles into my side, his hand on my thigh. He squeezes gently for just a second, and I wonder if that’s him asking if he’s playing up his role well? I lean in and kiss his temple. He’s doing far better than I imagined he would.
Everything about Bennett is just… better than I imagined.
This weekend was going to be intolerable.
Awful. Filled with people I hated in school and have no use for now.
Most of all, I’d have a shield of smiles to hide behind as I counted down the seconds before it was over.
Unexceptional orgasms would greet me before bed and maybe a lame blowie here and there if I were lucky.
Something that feels grossly like fondness grips my stomach as I hold Bennett close to me.
Lee sits at his other side, big head in Bennett’s lap.
Mama bear Sweetums is on my other side, leaning heavily against me but watching over the table with focused alertness.
Ears twitching and swiveling to take in the sounds.
I’m not the only one who notices people looking in our direction.
Specifically, looking at my babies. Something I find amusing since they’re acting like lovable housedogs right now.
Schnookums is on his back, bits to the sky, and twisted in on himself like a goof.
His lips fall back, and his tongue is lolling out the side of his mouth.
Velvet and Sugar are cuddling together as if they’re exhausted and disinterested in what’s going on around us.
They have full tummies, and now they’re tired.
Floofy Pants is wrapping one of the servers further around his wagging tail by being playful, obviously oblivious to the seriousness in the room.
Lovey Cakes is the only one watching the room at large. I can practically see her eyes droop, as if everyone is just boring her. She even yawns.
Janet snickers, and I glance in her direction. “Sorry,” she says. “Your dog there—they look bored out of their mind.”
“She is,” I confirm. “She doesn’t appreciate being stuck in a room like this. She’d rather be playing fetch or wrestling with her packmates.”
Eventually, those who are concerned about the police investigating their personal spaces without their presence are escorted to the dorm they’re occupying as the entire campus is searched. None of us at our table finds the need to be present.
After half an hour has passed, some of those who went with the police return, and rumors begin circling. Three of the Fucked-Up-Four’s bodies were found. Dead. Probably from falling or something. There’s mention of head injuries. But the fourth body—Kennedy Vance—hasn’t been found yet.
“Where did he wander off to?” Rosemary muses. “Stumbling in the wrong direction and too drunk to find his way back?”
“I wonder how he was separated from the others,” Sara adds.
Bennett and I listen. Bennett adds in some curious questions here and there as the others play a guessing game of how this happened.
My attention is snagged on one of the women, though. One of the wives of the Fucked-Up Four. She looks like she’s having a hard time keeping up the sad act. The other three women have been removed from the room, but this last one…
I’m not sure who she is or which last name keeps her prisoner. I didn’t pay that much attention. She dabs at her eyes on occasion, but I don’t see any moisture. Granted, I’m on the other side of the room, so her eyes might be red right now, and I can’t tell.
Hmm. “Sweetums,” I murmur and bend down the few inches I need to get to her big ear. Since I’m sitting, she’s practically as big as I am right now. “See that sad woman? Want to offer her some comfort?”
One of Sweetums’ ears flattens, and I’m quite confident she’s glaring at me. She does not like to play docile housedog. I laugh. “Alright, fine. Schnookums.”
I’m aware that the table is watching me now. But it would go a long way to show that we’re uninvolved if I convince one of my babies to offer some comfort to a, uh, grieving widow. Right?
Schnookums gets to his feet and shakes himself out.
He meets my eyes briefly and turns toward the woman.
The entire room falls silent as my massive wolf dog weaves his way toward the front.
I watch the woman carefully. She’s not paying attention at first—maybe concentrating too much on her performance.
When she sees Schnookums approaching, she stiffens. Schnookums is an expert, though. He never actually appears docile. He’s far too big and wolf-like for that. But he does very well at looking like a pet.
His approach slows, and though his ears are up, they’re not alert. They’re… lazily up, if that makes sense. The woman stares, tense, but when Schnookums sits across from her, she hesitantly offers her hand. Schnookums puts his big nose into it, and just like that, she’s smiling.
Smiling as if her husband wasn’t just found dead.
Bennett meets my eye with a huge smile, but I can see his own interest shining back at me. Yep. Interesting, but not enough to ask questions. At the very least, I’ve just endeared my pack to the room at large. After all, how can you vilify an animal offering comfort to a grieving widow?