Chapter 2 #2
“That’s great news,” Rob shouted over the loud music while mixing another cocktail. “It’s not gonna to be the same without you, though.”
“You know I just love working here and all—”
“Eh, cut the bullshit. A piece of your soul dies every time you take an order for fried pickles.”
“Well, maybe if I didn’t have to say, ‘Hope this tickles your pickle’ every time I serve them, I wouldn’t seem so soulless.” We looked at each other for a moment and laughed. “Plus, being a server in a gay dive bar isn’t exactly paying the bills.”
“You know I’d pay you more, but I’m struggling to keep this place open as it is.”
I carried a tray of beer and aforementioned fried pickles to a corner table illuminated by the orange, green and purple neon letters on the wall. Seated were five partially drunk college guys, all obnoxiously talking over each other.
“Here’s your order.” I placed the food and drinks in the center of the table before letting out a sigh. “Hope it… tickles your pickles,” I muttered the last part.
“How about you tickle my pickle?” the taller guy on the far end of the table asked with a ridiculous grin. It made me cringe a little, but I didn’t mind the extra attention as long as it came with amazing tips.
“Tempting,” I said with a flirty inflection, walking my fingers over the table before grabbing his hand. “But there are just so many guys that need service tonight.”
That felt as gross as it sounded.
He pulled out a pen and scribbled his number on the back of a beer-stained napkin. “Well, if you’re not too tired for another service call, here’s my number.”
And just like that, I was now a pretend hooker. I grabbed the napkin and slid it into my pocket. “I might take you up on that some time,” I said with a slight wink before turning away. For some reason, I could still hear their conversation, even though I should have been out of earshot.
“What is it with you and really hairy guys?”
When I got to the bar, I set the serving tray down and tried to examine myself when another man called to me, pulling my attention to a table with three men in their mid-thirties.
They were regulars, but I never could remember their names.
The bar was getting harder to handle, and the music was louder—so much louder.
The strobe lights in the dark, stuffy room were also starting to hurt my eyes.
“Hey you,” I said, forcing a smile, while trying to push away the throbbing in my head. “What can I get you guys?”
“We’ll take whatever’s on tap tonight.”
“Anything else?”
“Got a boyfriend?” one of the other men asked.
I was used to the attention, but never like this. Sure, people got drunk and would sometimes hit on me, but I started to feel like I was standing naked in the middle of a crowded room under a spotlight. And none of these guys ever showed interest before.
“Unfortunately, I do,” I shouted over the deafening music.
“You smell amazing,” another man said, and I backed away, trying to maintain a smile. “What cologne is that?”
“Thanks. I uh, always try to smell my best,” I said awkwardly as I backed toward the bar. The confidence I’d exuded earlier drained as quickly as it had come. I wasn’t even wearing cologne.
“Are you okay?” Rob asked.
“Not really,” I said, pointing to a pitcher. “Could I get one of those filled?”
“Why don’t you go home? I’ll call in Zack. He’s been pestering me for more hours.”
“Are you sure? It’ll be overtime for him.”
“Yeah, it’ll be fine.” He handed a drink to one of the guys sitting at the bar before staring at me again. “Did you get a haircut or something?”
“No,” I replied, as I stepped behind the bar, grabbing my bag. “I’ll call you later.”
“All right,” he shouted, his attention pulled back to the bar as he filled another order.
I stepped out the front door, slipping through groups of people crowding along the sidewalks of downtown. Everyone was so loud, and there were so many strong smells, which only further exacerbated my pounding headache.
I arrived at the bus stop and noted a pair of glowing eyes leering at me from the blackened alley across the street.
The clock on my phone read a quarter to ten; I’d have at least twenty minutes to kill until the next bus arrived.
It was unbearable. Every car driving by left a trail of noxious exhaust that had me in coughing fits, and the drunk people stumbling along the walkways were even more unpleasant.
Sitting on the bench, I slumped over, resting my head in my hands. A large body sat next to me, and I got a whiff of a familiar dog-like odor. It was another werewolf—brown this time, wearing a pair of ragged, frayed jeans and nothing more.
“I remember my first night,” he said, pointing up at the full moon peeking between the skyscrapers. “I didn’t know what was happening, and I wanted to rip everyone’s heads off just to make the world shut up.”
“Huh?”
“I don’t think like that anymore since hitting my full-turn, but everything was a little harder to control back then.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
The werewolf paused and narrowed his eyes. “Are you looking for a roommate?” He reached into his pocket, grabbing a wrinkled piece of paper.
I put up my hand to stop him. “Not really, no.”
“You sure? It’s hard for us to live alone. I—don’t have a job right now, but I can pay you in other ways. I can get you a nice-looking kuu, too.”
I stood and slipped into the straps of my backpack. That last part confused me, but I wasn’t about to ask. I just wanted to get away from him. “Sorry, no.”
“Did another one beat me to it already?” He clicked his tongue, sighed, then stood and walked away, his tail tucked.
“What the hell was that about?”
I awoke to the sound of loud knocking, having fallen asleep minutes after arriving at the apartment. My body ached even more, and I was running a slight fever. Of all the weeks I could have gotten the flu…
With a groan, I dragged myself out of bed and hobbled across the room before squinting through the peephole of the front door. I couldn’t see much other than what looked like a sheet over a huge standing lamp.
“Who’s out there?”
“Roscoe,” he grunted. “Hurry up and let me in before someone gets suspicious.”
I opened the door, revealing the ridiculous disguise. The grimy sheet he wore barely covered anything, just his head and most of his upper body. His tail and furry legs still showed. This was how he planned on not drawing attention to himself?
“What the hell is this?” I asked as Roscoe tried to push his way past me, but I shoved him back. “Did you walk all the way here like that? How can you see anything?”
He removed the sheet and held up a plastic freezer bag full of what I suspected was weed. “Of course I didn’t. That would have been stupid,” he said, pointing to his snout. “Plus, I don’t need to see nothin’ when this works just fine.”
“When you said you were good with disguises, I thought you’d actually put some effort into them.”
A man walked alongside the building at the other end of the hall toward my unit, so I pulled Roscoe inside and slammed the door before locking the deadbolt.
“The last thing I need right now is the police showing up,” I shouted.
“You know what you need?” he asked, tossing me the small plastic bag he carried.
“I don’t smoke,” I said, handing the bag back to him.
He crossed his arms. “C’mon. It’s good shit, and there’s a prize at the bottom.”
I narrowed my eyes while staring down at the now open bag. After feeling around, I pulled out a roll of cash secured with a rubber band.
“What’s this?”
“The deed to my beach house,” Roscoe replied before making his way to the fridge.
I began counting the money. “This is fifty dollars more than you took. I thought you didn’t get paid until Thursday.”
“I forgot about the OnlyStans payout this month.”
“You have an OnlyStans?”
“Sure do. Just don’t make much money off of it.”
“Surprising,” I said, following him. “Can’t imagine why.”
Roscoe continued rifling through the fridge. “Hey, it’s a saturated market. Just about every werewolf’s got a big dick, so it ain’t like I’m anything special.”
“I’m going to regret asking this, but… what exactly do you do on that app?”
“Sometimes I jack off.”
I waited as he turned and leaned against the countertop, popping open a can of beer.
“And?”
Roscoe took a few gulps before responding. “And what?”
“Sometimes I wonder how you get up the motivation to keep breathing,” I muttered, stuffing the money into my pocket, though not before setting the extra fifty on the counter.
“It’s not even like you have to put in that much effort.
It’s OnlyStans. Get some mood lighting, wear a harness, and shove a huge dildo up your lazy ass. ”
“Sounds like you know what yer doing,” he said, eyeing the money. “That’s yers, by the way.”
“No, it’s not. You need to find your own place to live.”
“Dude…” The werewolf trailed off and took another sip of beer.
“I gave it some thought, and the whole thing doesn’t sit well with me. I don’t know you, and you’re being a little too pushy about this. It’s like you’re hiding something.”
“I ain’t hidin’ nothing,” Roscoe snapped, his ears lowering against his head. “And you knew me well enough to let me fuck you… twice.”
“That’s just a hookup, remember?”
Roscoe crinkled the empty can before tossing it into the garbage. “I’ll pay half the rent. Hell, I’ll even buy the groceries. Come on, that’s a good deal. Think of all the money you’ll save.”
“I’ll be making enough money with my new job—oh.” The events from earlier made more sense. “Now I know why you had a shitty attitude.”
“I didn’t have a shitty attitude. I was happy for ya.”
“Uh huh,” I muttered. “It’s nothing against you. I just don’t want a roommate.”
“You mean, you don’t want a werewolf roommate,” he corrected, grabbing another beer from the fridge. “Sounds like someone’s a little racist.”