Chapter 3 #3
“This isn’t high school you idiot. That shit’s not going to work,” I said, pretending to be unfazed. “I met a half-turn today, and he didn’t have earrings.”
“So?” Roscoe’s warm tongue traced my neck. “Live a little, Cody. Yer about to go half-turn, and you need to learn how to not be such a tightass or yer gonna get aggressive.”
“Bodily mutilation is not something that will make me less of a tightass.”
“Mutilation? It’s just a goddamn hole in your ear.” His gut shook as he laughed. “Yer not just a nerd. Yer a fuckin’ square.”
“A square? What is this, the 1950s?” I broke away and calmly made my way toward the beanbag chair before picking up the stack of roommate candidates I’d thrown on the floor.
“Did I say square? I meant yer pretty damn cool for standin’ up for what you believe in,” he said, fumbling through his words while following me. “I’m just poking fun. That’s what buddies do.”
“Yeah, okay.” I looked down at the resume on top. “I bet Dallas here with his—” I looked closer at some of the text that had smeared. “Fourteen-inch dick and charming personality wouldn’t think I’m a nerd.”
“Yes, he would.” He snatched the papers out of my hand.
“Give those back!”
“Listen, you don’t gotta wear earrings. I can have them make something else. What do you want?”
“A necklace is fine.”
“What about a collar?”
“A necklace.”
“A cock ring?”
I shot him a confused look. “Why the fuck would anyone wear a cock ring that doesn’t come off? Are you insane?”
“It was a joke. Why are you so damn boring?”
“You’re really new to this whole ass kissing thing, aren’t you?”
Roscoe tossed the papers into the trash can and leaned against the counter.
“You think any of those guys I just threw away are gonna be real with you? No, they’re gonna pretend, put on their little shows, and then yer stuck with them.
I don’t pretend to be someone I’m not. I’m too old for that shit.
Hell, I don’t even wear pants. I like being able to scratch my balls wherever and give my fingers a good sniff afterwards. ”
I gave him an openmouthed, disgusted look, dumbfounded but not at all surprised.
“Oh, don’t pretend you don’t do it.”
I let out a sigh. “I guess you have a point.”
“Wait, I was right? You scratch and sniff too?”
“About the roommate you moron!” I threw my hands up and walked back toward the TV. “God, you’re so gross.”
“Are you sure this time? I swear yer giving me anxiety.”
“Do we have any more of that weed?” I asked, eyeing the nightstand next to my bed.
“You sure you want some? I mean, if yer scared of two little holes in yer ear…”
“I’ll kill you in your sleep, I swear to God,” I muttered under my breath.
“While yer at it, maybe you should stop drinkin’ booze, too. Yer mutilating your liver, ya know.”
I slammed my hand on the counter. “Fine, I’ll get my damn ears pierced!”
“You don’t got to. I’m just messin’.”
“Good, because I don’t like needles.”
“Don’t be such a pussy. You take monster dicks up yer ass like it’s nothin’, but one little poke in the ear’ll make you cry. Nerd.”
My vision turned red, and a startlingly realistic vision of me jumping onto his back while choking the life out of him played out in my head. “Get the hell out of my house!”
“Lighten up, Cody-boy. I’m just messin’ again.” The werewolf flashed his brows before grabbing my cell phone off the counter, and to my horror, he managed to unlock it. “Want me to make the appointment?”
“How the fuck did you get my pin?” I asked, trying to snatch the phone away, but he kept it just out of reach.
“You told me when you were drunk.”
I gave up when I heard a light tone through the speaker. “You already dialed the number, didn’t you?”
He gave a trollish grin in response while holding the phone to his ear.
The Next Day
I waited in the tall, sunlit lobby, fidgeting with the aglets dangling from the drawstrings of my hoodie. This was even more nerve wracking than my interview two days ago. Perhaps if I had enough experience to be invaluable, the company would work with me—and even that was a long shot.
“Cody,” the receptionist called out as she hung up the phone.
I shot up from the chair. “Ms. Williams is in conference room three, down the hall to the right, last door on the left.” She stared at me, perhaps noticing the creepy color of my eyes.
They had turned an even darker shade of orange, and my sclera were already darkening.
“Thanks,” I said as she nervously pressed a button to unlock the main doors.
Despite how high tech and corporate the building looked, the environment was surprisingly laid back.
I made my way down the hall, each office open and bright as employees talked amongst themselves, often laughing or collaborating around a whiteboard or giant flat screens mounted to the walls.
I’d always dreamed of starting a career in a place like this.
Unfortunately, after today, a dream was all it would ever be.
I wanted to curse whatever god was in charge of my life.
If given the chance, I could have climbed the corporate ladder.
I had ambition and discipline and a strong work ethic, but I wondered if all that would change once I turned into one of them.
What Roscoe said earlier about me being a homeless bum with him haunted my thoughts even more.
Later that night
I was stupid and left the front door unlocked, and Roscoe burst into the apartment wearing the creepiest human latex mask I’d ever seen.
It had wiry black hair with random bald spots and deep wrinkles around the eyes and mouth.
What made it even more horrifying was the fake nose protruding well past what the material was meant to handle, giving the ‘human’ face an overexaggerated caricature quality.
He’d covered the rest of himself in stitched-together potato sacks which did little to conceal his monstrous shape—oh, and his tail was still out and wagging away.
“What the fuck?” I yelled out, running over to the door as an older, white-haired woman ambled unsteadily through the narrow, outside corridor of the complex. She pointed and let out a scream.
“Jesus, lady—” Before he could finish, I slammed the door shut.
“I don’t even know where to begin with this,” I said, my tone exhausted. “Every time I think you can’t get any dumber, you prove me wrong.”
“You like it? The community theater was just throwin’ it away.” He held his arms to the side, his right hand closed as though holding something. “Give me one of them black frocks and a yamaka, and I could give a Derashah at the synagogue downtown.”
My mouth hung open.
“It was a joke. You know, my grandma was Jewish.”
“I thought you said you were Italian.”
“I did?” He scratched his head. “Yeah, okay, that sounds right.”
“You’re not Italian, are you?”
He took my hand and placed something metallic into it before backing away and letting the nightmare fuel he wore fall to the floor in the corner.
I looked down at solid gold hoop earrings. “Oh, come on. You couldn’t have gotten something a little less… this?”
“They’re perfect.”
“They’re hideous.” I picked them up with my fingers, and they began to glow. “This is so creepy.”
“Yer gonna look so damn hot.” Roscoe walked over to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of beer. “My buddy said to bring you down to his place ASAP before you get too wolfy.”
“I thought we’d do it next week.”
“Can’t. If we wait too long, you’ll heal too fast, and he says it’s too much of a pain in the ass then. He can’t put studs in like normal, so he’s gotta put yer kuu on directly.”
“I don’t know what any of that means,” I said, my stomach knotting. “I really think I should look at more werewolves.”
“Here.” Roscoe grabbed his dirty, orange hoodie off the floor in the corner of the room and pulled a folded sheet of paper from the pocket. “Since yer so damn anal about everything, I made one.” He handed it to me, and I dropped the kuu earrings on the countertop.
“All right, let’s see how you measure up.” My eyes rolled the moment I started reading the sloppily written profile.
Dick reeeeal huge. Like bigger than everyone else.
I like food, beer & sex. Prefer to have them all at the same time.
I jerk off in front of someone else’s phone every month, and I kick annoying drunks out of bars for money.
I don’t wear pants and never will.
My baked ziti will make you cum.
I stopped reading. “Prove it.”
“Prove what? You’ve already seen my dick.”
“The baked ziti.”
Roscoe flashed another grin, wagging his tail as he walked toward the kitchen. “You sure? Kuu signs are one thing, but this might actually make you fall in love with me.”
“It’s baked ziti, not ambrosia. Don’t flatter yourself,” I muttered before settling back onto my beanbag chair to start flipping through the channels.