Chapter 1 #2
“Whoa! What happened to you?” Rob hopped the bar and ran to me as I dripped on the floor, my shoes making squishing sounds with every step. “Did you miss the bus?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said, still fuming from my earlier encounter before throwing my now-ruined resume into the garbage. “I’m going to need a uniform. I forgot mine.”
“Okay, you’re not going to like this.”
I glared at him.
“This is all we have. I mean, you could just march that hot ass out there naked and everyone would be throwing their money at you.”
“I know you have normal clothes back there.”
“Those are for the shop. Gays come from all around just to get a Bottom’s Up t-shirt.” He paused and gave me a more concerned look. “How’s the job hunt going?”
My stomach knotted at that question.
“I haven’t been—”
“Oh stop the act.” He flamboyantly flicked his wrist and smiled. “You’re too smart for this place. You think I didn’t know?”
“I guess. I’ll let you know when I have an interview that doesn’t end with security practically shoving me out the door.
” I walked into the back storage room with Rob following close behind.
After removing my sopping wet shirt, I hung it to drip dry on a wooden chair.
“I think I speak for a quarter of my generation when I say college is a fucking scam.”
“At least you’re trying. If you’re that hard up for cash, I have a buddy who owns a bar on Ruskin.”
“I’m not dealing with any more werewolves,” I snapped, slipping off my nice shoes and dress pants.
“Okay, calm down. It was just a suggestion. They aren’t all bums, and the half-turns pay pretty well since they get all that government money.”
“Freeloading pieces of shit. What are they going to tip me with at that bar? IOUs? Food stamps? I hate them all.”
“Yikes. My friend who owns the bar is a werewolf, so… this is awkward.”
I gritted my teeth while wondering how I’d walk back that statement. “I’m sure he’s a nice guy.”
“You need to be a little more understanding and a little less judgy. If you think it’s tough for you to find a good job in this economy, just imagine trying to find any job that wants a werewolf. And if you’re a half-turn, forget it. You’re too much of a liability.”
“I still don’t understand that. I thought half-turns were mostly human.”
“They’re unpredictable and kind of dangerous.
But at least they qualify for government assistance and housing, which is why you always see a werewolf living with one.
” Rob tossed me the skimpy uniform I dreaded wearing—blue jorts and a black tank top with the ‘Bottom’s Up’ logo printed on it.
It wouldn’t have been so bad if the B wasn’t a giant, hairy ass sporting a snug g-string.
“I suppose this isn’t the most embarrassing thing to happen to me today.
” Stepping behind a stack of boxes, I removed my briefs and slipped the short denim over my bare skin, taking care to make sure everything was tucked and nothing peeked through the bottom.
After slipping on the tank top, I emerged. “Well?”
Rob put his hand over his mouth, pretending to rub his chin while stifling a laugh. “Good lord…”
I held up my hand. “I’m going to need a couple shots to get through this shift.”
“I’m imagining what kind of reaction your mother would have.”
“She’d have to be sober for that,” I muttered while walking out into the hallway. “So, if you have all these werewolf friends, why don’t you hire any?”
“The same reason I don’t let them drink here. Can’t afford the insurance.”
“Are you for real?”
“It’s shitty, but if a werewolf hurts someone in my bar, it’s my ass that foots the bill. I mean, I feel bad, but… you just never know when alcohol’s involved.”
We stepped back into the empty bar, house music playing at low volume.
It typically didn’t pick up until around seven, and my shift didn’t technically start until four.
However, being there with friends and around people was less depressing than sitting on a beanbag chair in a bare studio apartment watching old sitcoms.
“It’s not like every werewolf has a problem controlling themselves. Ever been to White Dunes?”
“I barely have enough time or money to go to the shitty park downtown. How am I supposed to get to the beach?”
“Well, if you ever do go, there’s a werewolf lifeguard that’s kind of famous. Met him once, and he’s a cool guy. Always makes people laugh with stories about his sharkman boyfriend who can’t swim.”
I narrowed my eyes. “A sharkman?”
Rob shrugged. “He gets high and makes up shit like that all the time. But my point is, the issue with fully turned werewolves is mostly overblown. You just need to get to know some of them before you judge.”
He made a good point; I also didn’t want to bring up my earlier encounter. It would just make me look like an asshole, considering Roscoe hadn’t actually done anything more than annoy me. Well, that coupled with sexual harassment.
“Okay,” I replied, brushing off the suggestion.
That night’s shift ended up being the best I’d had in a while, which kind of irritated me because I knew why.
I wasn’t comfortable wearing revealing clothing or pretending to be interested in some random guy’s weird kinks.
I was cripplingly introverted, and all these clothes did was throw me into a world I wasn’t ready for.
Walking around homeless encampments with three hundred dollars in tips in my pockets at two in the morning had me looking over my shoulders every few seconds.
My normal clothes were still damp, balled up in a plastic bag, which made the walk home even more unnerving.
As much as I hated the city, it did have a bit of beauty to it, especially when countless skyscraper windows reflected in the mirror-like puddles from the rain earlier.
My watch read two thirty, but it sure didn’t feel like it. I couldn’t recall the last time I had so much energy after work, and I wasn’t even in a particularly good mood.
“Hey! It’s Dakoootah!”
I shuddered. Was this another happy coincidence, or had he been trailing me?
“Go away,” I said, turning to glare at the half-clothed werewolf leaning against a brick alley wall with his arms crossed.
His hood was up, and an unnerving shadow covered most of his face.
The only features I could make out were two blood-orange dots leering from the darkness.
“I thought I made it clear I’m not interested. ”
He emerged from the alleyway holding my umbrella in his giant hand, the streetlights giving form to his wolfy face. “Well, okay then. If you don’t want it, I’ll take it.”
“Gimme that.” I snatched the umbrella away. “You could have said something before I got off the bus.”
“I thought I did. I said a couple things, if I remember.”
“You’re fucking disgusting.” I turned and walked away from him, but his wet footsteps followed me.
“Hey,” Roscoe called out, catching my arm, the sudden movement freaking me out more.
He let go and shoved both hands into the pockets of his hoodie as if fishing for something.
“Aw shit. What the hell did I spend it on?” He scratched behind his ears.
“Well, I was gonna give you yer money back, but… it’s the thought that counts, right? ”
I rolled my eyes and resumed walking home, but Roscoe kept following close.
“Shiiiit. You look real hot in that.”
“Dude, no.” I didn’t turn around this time. “I don’t know how to make this any clearer. I’m not interested.”
“Dakota,” he said, earnestly this time.
I stopped and turned again to see a different expression on his face. His eyes were big, and even though they had a creepy orange glow to them, his pathetic body language made me think of a hungry stray dog.
“What?”
“Listen… I don’t got a place to sleep tonight, and I was wondering…”
“Fuck. No.”
With his tail tucked between his legs, he got down on his knees, looking up at me with even sadder eyes.
“I’ll do anything, and it don’t got to be sexual. What do you want? Breakfast in bed? Want me to do some housework? Rub yer feet?”
Nothing about this felt good, but he was just going to keep following me. Even if I refused, he’d probably pester me all the way home. It was one night, and the guy did seem friendly. There was a weird cuteness to his face when he wasn’t being a complete troll.
I let out a heavy breath, knowing I was probably going to regret this decision. “Your dirty ass sleeps on the floor—after I put some towels down so you don’t ruin the carpet. Werewolves aren’t allowed in my apartment complex, so if anyone catches you, you’re shit out of luck. Capiche?”
His tail wagged. “You ain’t gotta worry about that. No one’ll even know I’m there.”
“This is going to be a mistake. I just know it.”
“Nah.” There was that shitty grin again. “Tonight’s gonna be fun. Got any booze?”
And with that question, regret came crashing down on my head like a cartoon safe.
I opened the door to my cramped studio apartment, and the werewolf and I walked inside.
“Aw damn. Did you get robbed? Where’s all yer stuff?”
“This is all my stuff,” I muttered, tossing the bag of wet clothes on the floor.
“Shit. If I’d known you were this poor, I wouldn’t have spent yer five dollars.”
“At least you ate.”
His stomach growled in response to that.
“You did eat, right?”
“I had more of a liquid lunch.”
“Of course you did,” I said, washing a bit of dirt from Roscoe off my hands in the kitchen sink.
Since I had some extra cash, I wanted to order something to eat, but there probably wasn’t anything open at this hour, and deliveries were too expensive anyways.
After opening a few cabinets and grabbing anything edible, I laid it all out on the counter.
I was going to save it all for a rare lunch tomorrow, but there was a hungry werewolf in my living room, for some absurd reason. “I’ve got canned tuna and bread.”