Chapter 7 #2
Sleep didn’t come easy, and Roscoe still hadn’t come back. I thought about what Darryl told me earlier, and despite it all, I wanted to believe Roscoe had changed. Given how I was still up, lying on the beach while worrying meant I actually cared about him.
“Yer gonna get fleas again,” Roscoe said, his footsteps close enough that I could hear him kicking up sand.
I turned toward the lumbering werewolf, silhouetted by the moonlight overhead, his eyes glowing a fiery orange from inside the hood he had pulled up over his head.
“Where the hell have you been?”
“Out,” he replied, sitting next to me. “Here.” He took my hand and pressed a wad of cash into it.
“What’s this?”
“You’ve really been helping me out, and I wanted you to have some spending money.”
I glanced down at the wrinkled twenty-dollar bills, then up at him. “I like this Roscoe. Where the hell did he come from?”
“He was here. Ya just didn’t notice him yet.”
“We’ll save this for groceries.” I slipped the cash into my pocket and smiled at him.
“Nah, you’ll use it for fun. Let me worry about the food.”
“Where’d you get it?”
“Apparently, aside from Darryl, there ain’t many werewolves in this town. Got offered a job at a nightclub nearby as a bouncer. The pay was nearly double what I made in the city, and they pay under the table, too. I love this little town.”
“Damn, you actually got a job,” I said, scooting closer to him. “You like it?”
“Eh, it’s okay. Not as fun as my cosplay porn idea, though.”
“Oh yeah. About that…”
“Don’t tell me yer already gettin’ cold feet.”
“I’m not a camera person, and I don’t like making private stuff public—especially my privates. You should ask Adam if he’ll do it. Sounds like something he’d enjoy.”
“Hell no. That prissy little shit would probably want more than half the profit.” A jagged grin parted his thin black lips. “Plus, it’s hotter with you.”
I flushed and gave him a playful shove. “You’re trying to butter me up to make cheap porn with you.”
“Is it working?”
“Kinda.”
His hand slipped around my waist. “Ever had sex on the beach?”
“No, and it sounds like an awful experience.”
He pulled me closer to him, his warm tongue circling the crook of my neck. “It’s fun.”
“Someone’s gonna see us.”
“It’s after two in the morning, Cody.”
“Someone could still be walking around.”
He pushed me against the sand before climbing on top, pulling down his hood. “If they’re out this late, they’re drunk and ain’t gonna care.” Roscoe’s tongue slipped into my mouth, and his clawed finger hooked through the drawstring of my shorts, pulling the fabric away, leaving me exposed.
“Fine. Just try not to get sand in my ass.”
A light drizzle pattered against the tin roof of the small beach house, and the three of us sat in front of the television scarfing down pizza.
I was approaching my limit after the third slice, but Roscoe and Darryl were already halfway into their second pies, furiously smacking as drool roped from their mouths.
I had to turn up the volume of whatever show was on just to cover up the unwanted ASMR.
“Can you guys eat a little quieter?”
“You try eating with a dog mouth and see how quiet you are,” Roscoe said, sputtering some of the pizza he was in the middle of chewing.
“At least chew with your mouth closed.”
“Can’t,” Darryl chimed in, taking another bite. “I’ve tried. It doesn’t work out too well.”
I tossed my crust into the box, and Roscoe immediately snatched it up before tossing it into his mouth.
“What are you, twelve?” he asked. “Want me to start cutting the crust off yer PB and J, too?”
“Pizza crust is just a handle for the edible parts,” I said before leaning back against the couch. We were all sitting on the floor since Darryl didn’t have a table inside. Lightning cracked the sky, pulling my attention to the window. “It’s supposed to rain all week.”
“It’d be perfect surfing weather if it weren’t for the damn lightning,” Darryl said, his lighter tone masking his irritation. He had been going stir crazy, sometimes going outside for a few minutes before coming back completely drenched.
“Why don’t we do something tonight?” Roscoe said, closing the empty pizza box before leaning back to scratch his stomach. “Lots of bars downtown.” He gave me a half grin, and his tail pounded the floor. “Lots of… karaoke bars.”
“I don’t sing in front of people,” I said. “And I don’t want to have to listen to you bark out more songs like you did the other morning.”
“You heard Roscoe sing, huh?” Darryl asked.
“Yeah. He woke me up with it.”
“Oh yeah.” A smile finally replaced the scowl he had been wearing most of the day. “He used to do that to me, too. He’s surprisingly good when he’s not singing like shit to be annoying.”
I looked back at Roscoe. “Why are you such a troll?”
“It’s fun.” He scooted closer, putting his arm around my neck. “C’mon. Let’s get wasted and make fools of ourselves.”
“Make a fool of yourself and leave me out of it.” I turned to Darryl. “Do you sing too?”
“Oh fuck no. The guitar is the extent of my musical abilities.”
“Remember when you used to play, and I’d—” Roscoe went rigid when Darryl bared his teeth.
“I think karaoke is a great idea,” I cut in, trying to disperse the tension. “You guys wanna leave when the storm calms down?”
“Sounds good,” Roscoe replied, giving a dangerously quiet Darryl a sideways glance. “Listen, buddy—”
“I’m not your buddy,” the larger werewolf interrupted before climbing to his feet. He took a few steps toward the front door. “Karaoke’s fine. I’ll be back later.”
With that, he disappeared outside, the door slamming shut behind him.
Roscoe stared down at the floor. “I’m sure he’s had some nice things to say.”
“Quite a bit, actually,” I whispered, the tension tightening like a noose around us both. “I can’t blame him for still being upset.”
“I know. I searched for that damn guitar for years, even though I knew the thing was long gone. Part of me thought he’d moved on when I brought you here.”
“Did you ever apologize?”
“Cody, what the hell am I supposed to say? ‘Sorry I sold the most important thing in your life for smack’? That was my lowest point, and I still hate myself for it.”
“You should open with that.”
“I can barely look him in the eyes, and in case you haven’t noticed, he’s way bigger than me.”
“Well, at least you heal fast.”
“That ain’t funny.” His tone was a lot more serious than it had been. “He almost beat my brains out that morning. I’m actually kinda scared of him sometimes.”
“Sorry.”
“I fucked up, and I lost one of my best friends.”
“I don’t think you did.” This was a good segue into what I really wanted to ask him. “You are clean, right?”
“Almost ten years,” he said, his ears pointing a little higher.
“Then let that be the starting point. Find a way to make it up to him and apologize. If there wasn’t a chance, he would have never let us stay here. The fact that you two can even sit in the same room together proves that.”
“Let’s see how tonight goes. It’s up to him if he wants to hear me out.”
“Just don’t get too drunk, please.”
Roscoe let out a whine. “But that’s half the fun.”
“Yeah, but it’s not going to be much fun if you say something stupid and drunk Darryl gets your brain matter all over me.”
“All right. I won’t have that much, but you gotta sing a song with me.”
“No. I don’t know how many times I have to say it.”
“It’s gonna happen. I’ll make you have some fun if it kills us both.”
“Don’t tempt fate, grandpa.”
“I… can’t believe it. He’s actually good,” I said, my eyes locked on Roscoe as he took command of the stage, his powerful voice effortlessly changing pitch while singing Thriller.
He was so precise in his imitation that I thought he was lip syncing at first. Once more people started crowding in off the street to see the performance, I could have sworn I saw dollar signs flash in the owner’s eyes.
It really felt kind of odd envying Roscoe for once.
I’d have given anything to have enough confidence to do that.
“The ham always knew how to work a crowd,” Darryl said, taking another swig of beer. He’d been fending off friends all night just to keep me company. “You should have another drink.”
“Am I that obvious?”
Darryl put his arm around me, patting me on the back. “You’re a hell of a good-looking guy, and you’re fun to talk to when you aren’t shutting people out.” He picked up a pitcher of pale-yellow ale and poured it into my glass.
“I’m just worried,” I muttered, eyeing Roscoe before drinking half of the glass in one go. “He’s got that look in his eyes. He’s going to embarrass me; I just know it.”
“Been thinking about him a lot today, and I’ve gotta try to let this shit go.”
“He and I talked after you left, and he’s scared.”
“Well, I did knock all of his teeth out.”
“Not of that… well, kind of that,” I corrected. “He’s scared of facing you and apologizing. Knowing you still hate him probably hurts him worse than any beating could. He knows he fucked up, but you have to hear it from him.”
His eyes followed the singing werewolf as he began belting out the high notes of Bohemian Rhapsody.
“He’s really changed. Even though he could sing all those years ago, he’d slur and forget lyrics, usually making shit up on the spot.
The old wolf’s got more life in him now than he did decades ago.
” He looked back at me and took the beer out of my hand.
“Hey, I was about to drink that.”
“It’s you! Being all uptight and boring is making him a better person.”
“I need alcohol, Darryl. He’s looking at me again.”
“There’s a half-turn in here that’s just itching to come sing,” Roscoe barked through the microphone.