When Life Gives You Werewolves

Chapter 1

When It Rains

The interview lasted ten minutes, a whole five minutes longer than usual.

I was a lot more prepared this time—that was, until the suspicious marketing manager started drilling.

That was the moment I knew the jig was up.

I waded too far into a morass of half-truths and outright embellishments with each ‘updated’ resume, and it had finally caught up with me.

I looked down at the now-wrinkled clear binder I’d been clutching like a lifeline with every question that soared over my head.

At least my picture looked good. I didn’t have enough money for a professional portrait, so I had to settle for a slightly grainy smart phone image of me in a dark blue collared shirt.

My brown hair had been combed neatly enough they wouldn’t be able to tell it hadn’t been cut in several months.

It was probably one of the better pictures of me, but the closer I examined it, the stranger I looked.

Over the last year, my eyes had changed color from dark brown to a gross yellowy green.

I’d wanted to go to an optometrist to see if it was something serious, but I didn’t have insurance.

For the most part, I was healthy. In fact, aside from emotional exhaustion, I’d felt more energetic than I had in years.

Despite having the diet of a six-year-old, I was actually gaining some lean muscle.

Perhaps it was all those late nights carrying drinks and food to all the drunk college gays for hours on end.

Or maybe it was all the walking from one company to the next, hoping to get my foot in the door.

Everyone I worked with carried on as if it was life as usual, but there was always this hint of desperation coupled with the smaller tips and orders.

The economy was getting worse, and internships were practically non-existent.

I needed just one chance to work in a place that wasn’t a bar or a restaurant; somewhere that paid just enough to keep me off the streets.

“Fake it ’til you make it,” I whispered through my teeth, pushing open heavy glass doors while shrugging off humiliation and failure.

Oh well, no use crying. The worst was over, and it was almost time for work.

It had stormed while I was inside, and the scent of steam from the hot asphalt overpowered the exhaust that wafted onto the sidewalk from the busy downtown traffic.

Everything in this miserable city smelled terrible, but the odors seemed to get worse over the last few months.

My watch read twenty minutes until one, and my stomach began to complain.

I was down to one small meal a day, surviving on greasy discounted food from the city’s seediest gay bar, Bottom’s Up.

I hated wearing the logoed shirts, and while the pay sucked, at least it was a fun place to work.

And I had been getting slightly more tips lately.

I stood at the bus stop, holding the cane-end of an umbrella with my right hand, not daring to sit on the bench.

Everything was covered in piss, and the homeless werewolves that often occupied them harassed anyone unfortunate enough to wander too close.

The monsters looked dangerous, most being well over seven feet tall with sharp teeth and claws, but they were harmless, for the most part.

That didn’t mean they weren’t a nuisance, always asking for money or making creepy advances toward anyone walking by.

Despite that, their cheesy pickup lines and overly confident flirting paid off a lot more than I would have expected.

Thinking I was in the clear, I moved closer to the shelter as a few drops of rain fell onto my dress shirt. The hair on my neck stood straight when a huge gray werewolf in a ripped orange hoodie stumbled toward me from an alley close by.

“Hey bud,” he said with a deep grunt.

I did what I normally did in these situations.

I ignored the beast, knowing he would get the hint and annoy someone else.

Unfortunately for me, though, there wasn’t anyone else at the bus stop.

The werewolves had been pestering me more than usual lately.

Sometimes they’d try to get money from passersby, but once they spotted me, they would drop everything and rush over.

It was getting so bad that I didn’t want to leave the apartment.

“Got any spare change?” He gave the air next to me a deep sniff. “Damn, you smell good. Just get out of church or somethin’?”

This was going to be difficult, but if I held my ground and ignored him long enough, he’d leave—eventually. I glanced at my watch again, struggling to avoid making eye contact. “Where’s that damn bus?”

The werewolf moseyed next to me, giving me a better view.

I flushed when I noticed he wasn’t wearing any pants.

Most did, but some didn’t. Even though there was a thick patch of fur covering his crotch, this was still considered indecent exposure, even if law enforcement rarely bothered with citations anymore.

“C’mon. Ya got any? I’m sure you got some money lookin’ all fancy.”

“No,” I said, side-stepping to avoid the stench of vodka and wet dog. “Leave me alone.”

“All right.” Even as he spoke, he stepped closer, leaning until his snout was next to my ear. “If you get me some booze, I’ll suck yer dick.”

I groaned before seeing my salvation in the form of the A-line bus. “My ride’s here. You’ll have to save such a tempting offer for someone else,” I muttered.

The dirty werewolf watched the incoming transport and grinned. “Hey, looks like we were waitin’ for the same bus.”

I closed my eyes and let out a frustrated sigh. “Yeah. What a coincidence.”

The bar was ten blocks away, and I would have walked, but the rain sprinkling on my face made me reconsider.

“What’s yer name, bud?” His deep voice vibrated the air.

“Why are you still talking to me? I don’t have any money. Do you think if I did, I’d be taking the bus?”

“Ah, I see why yer all dressed up,” the werewolf said, letting out a loud belch while tapping the resume in my hand. “You got a job now? Wanna buy me some lunch to celebrate?”

This one was audacious. My blood started to boil, and all I could do was clench my jaw shut until the bus got there.

“Well, I guess if you don’t got any money, I’ll just skip lunch.”

I looked down at his protruding gut and rolled my eyes. “You should probably skip a few more.”

He wasn’t fat by normal means. Werewolves rarely were, and the beast still had a lot of natural muscle to offset his beer belly.

If he were human, I’d have probably found him even grosser, but oddly, this seemed to work for him.

It wasn’t like he was ugly, either. They all had an alluring charm, otherwise they wouldn’t have as much luck getting laid as they often did.

The bus finally slowed to a stop, and I ran up the steps before swiping my pass. The werewolf followed, feeling around the side pockets of his hoodie.

“Aw damn. Forgot my bus pass,” he said with a flirty wink to the bus driver.

The large woman sighed. “Just get on the damn bus, Roscoe.”

He smiled and patted the driver on the shoulder. “I owe you another good time.”

“You’re a real piece of work, and you owe the city thirty bucks.” She looked up at him and lowered her voice. “Tomorrow, six-thirty. Don’t be late again, bastard.”

I tried to scrub that exchange from my brain before taking a seat by the window, but to my abject horror, the beast decided to squeeze in next to me, the seat way too small to accommodate him.

“The werewolf section, Roscoe,” the bus driver called back. “Stop harassing people.”

“Aw come on, Patty.” He put his heavy arm around my neck and yanked me close. My nose was practically in his armpit. “He’s a good friend of mine.”

“Let me go,” I whispered just loud enough to not make any more of a scene as the other passengers gawked at us. The bus began to move, and Roscoe released me.

“What’s yer name, bud?”

“None of your business,” I said, staring out the window. “And I’m not your bud, so stop talking to me.”

I could still see him staring from my peripheral vision. When he tilted his face downward, I pulled the resume to my other side.

“Dakota.” The werewolf snorted. “What a queermo name, Dakota.” He enunciated it slower, in a nasally tone. “Daaaa-ko-daaaaah.”

“Dude, your name is Roscoe. I’m surprised anyone would find you remotely fuckable.”

“Ouch,” he said, his tail wagging for some reason. “Little twink’s got some sass to him.”

“Do not call me that.”

“What, Dacooter?”

I bit my lower lip and looked away from him again. “I think I know your game now. You’re just going to keep following me and annoying me until I give you money.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out a five-dollar bill. “Here.” I threw it into his lap. “Now get lost.”

“Gee thanks, bud.” He folded the money in his palm. “So, where’re ya headed?”

I tilted my head back against the seat and let out a groan. “Okay, see this is how it’s supposed to work. I give you money, and you leave me alone. Why are you still talking?”

“’Cause you gave me money,” Roscoe said, still grinning like an asshole. “Gotta complete the transaction, ya know. So what’ya want? Want me to suck yer dick?”

My face got hot as every passenger in earshot turned toward us in unison.

“I’m done with this.” The bus stopped a few blocks from the bar, and I stood, squeezing by him as I made my way down the aisle.

“I can eat yer ass too,” he called after me, even louder. “You got a nice one, and I got a good tongue for it.”

The bus driver looked back at me with an expression I could only assume was pity as I picked up the pace and practically jumped off the bus. When it pulled away, what was once a drizzle earlier turned into a thunderous deluge, and in my desperate attempt to escape, I’d left my umbrella behind.

I wanted to kill that werewolf.