Chapter 38
Bringing the Music Back
Cody
“Ihave to do what?” Roscoe shouted while following me around the bedroom. “What the hell did you do Cody?”
“I’m getting Darryl’s guitar back.” I tossed an empty suitcase on the bed and started neatly folding and stacking outfits into it.
“That guy had it this whole time?” He plopped down on our ugly brown couch. “He’s had it in fer me since we moved here, and now you’ve gone and signed my life away.”
“It’s light housework in a mansion, not breaking stones in a gulag. You can stand to do a little more than just eat, sleep, and fuck.”
“But that’s the golden trinity! That’s the perfect life, and it’s all I wanna do.”
I grabbed more clothes from the dresser. “Well, now you can do it all in a maid’s outfit.”
“He ain’t gonna make me wear one of them frilly black and white dresses, is he?”
I snorted involuntarily at the thought. “Dude.”
“Hmm, ya know, I could make it work, with the right alterations.”
I stopped packing and shot him one of my most disgusted looks. “If I ever see you in one of those, I’ll probably never be able to have sex with you again.”
“You could wear one. Shit, I’m gettin’ hard just thinkin’ about it.”
The front door slammed open, and rapid, clawed footsteps raced through the house.
“Cody!”
“In the bedroom,” I shouted as Adam ran in. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh man oh man, if I’m right about this, Austin’s gonna freak the fuck out.” He handed his phone to me. “Look.”
I scrolled through an app, looking at a bunch of pictures of three werewolves in different places. One had them posing in front of the Matterhorn in Switzerland and another had them relaxing on a beach in Fiji.
“What am I looking at?”
“It’s a social media app for werewolves called ‘The Fuzz’.”
I handed the phone back. “You know I hate this stuff. I never even logged into the DicTalk account you set up for me a couple months ago.”
“No, look at these guys,” he said, sitting on the bed and pulling me down next to him. “I think these were Austin’s packmates in the marines.”
“What?” I snatched the phone. “Are you sure about that? I thought they died!”
“Shhhh.” Adam covered my mouth. “I don’t want Austin to hear.”
“You saw ‘em in yer visions?” Roscoe asked.
Adam nodded. “Randall, Steve, and Blake. They’re alive and apparently doing pretty well for werewolves.”
“I don’t understand. Why does Austin think they’re dead?” I asked.
“He assumed they were. A couple soldiers threw their dog tags in the trash and kept hinting that something bad happened. But they also mentioned being contaminated, which may be why they threw the tags away—not because the werewolves were dead. Austin never saw their bodies either. He tried to break into the building, but it was too secure. He ended up assuming the worst and got the fuck out of Dodge.”
Roscoe’s tail thudded against the bed. “Where are they livin’ now?”
“I don’t know. They don’t really live anywhere.
They just travel to different places, stowing away or hitchhiking.
They’ve even got a channel where they record themselves hopping on freight trains like hobos.
” Adam scrolled back to the top of the app and clicked his profile.
“I’m going to send them a message with Austin’s picture and see if they recognize him.
I’m like ninety-nine percent sure it’s them. ”
“It’s been quite a few years. Hopefully they haven’t forgotten him,” I said, snapping my suitcase shut.
“Nah,” Roscoe chimed in. “If they were as close as Austin said, they’re probably searchin’ the whole world for him and haven’t stopped. Packmates have a really strong bond.” Roscoe’s tone cracked beneath his excitement.
“I sent the message,” Adam said, turning off the screen before looking up. “Now we wait.”
The moment he spoke, the phone vibrated again and again.
Thanksgiving was tomorrow, but today we’d begin our long road trip to White Dunes. Willa and Mosavi were coming with us, which meant we’d be traveling by limo. Roscoe sat on the living room sofa with a sour look on his face, his fur still puffy from all the blow-drying earlier.
“Don’t look at me like that. Mosavi’s not letting you into his limo smelling like ass.”
“I didn’t smell like ass,” Roscoe muttered. “I like my smell. Now I look stupid.”
“I’ll brush you in a bit. Oh! I’ve got a cute bandana with a bunch of little bones on it.”
“Ha ha.” Roscoe looked away from me. “Puttin’ me in that harness was mean, and when the hell did Adam get so strong?”
I picked up a wide wire brush and began running it through his fur. “I love this. You’re so soft, you smell good, and you’re handsome.”
“I look like a fat Pomeranian.”
“You’ll look great when I’m done, and you’re more Chow Chow than Pomeranian.”
The bathroom door opened, and Adam pulled Austin into the living room. The huge werewolf’s fur was just as puffy and unruly as Roscoe’s, and he had the same disgruntled expression. His ears were low, and his tail tucked, the whites of his eyes showing as he looked away.
“Can I get that brush when you’re done?” Adam wrapped his arms around Austin, his head sinking into thick chest fluff. “This is nice,” he said, his voice muffled.
“He got you with the harness, didn’t he?” Roscoe asked.
The sad-looking werewolf nodded.
“How’d he get you?” He shoved my arm. “This one promised me sex and breakfast in bed.”
The larger werewolf let out a sigh.
“Sex and breakfast,” he muttered.
“You guys are just evil.” Roscoe scooted away, snatching the brush from my hand before pointing it at Austin. “Look at that face. That’s a broken werewolf right there. Promised food and fuckin’ and got double-crossed by two evil twinks.”
“Don’t call me that,” Adam and I snapped in unison as I grabbed the brush again.
“I’m telling you, Roscoe, Mosavi would not let you into his limo smelling like that. It was either I give you a bath, or he does—and I can almost guarantee you wouldn’t have any fur left if he did it.”
Roscoe swallowed hard.
“And I only used the harness because you always put up a fight, and I’m not using the vironoct on you guys anymore.”
“I am gonna get back at you one of these days.” He leaned in close to my ear. “I can give you a shower too.”
“Roscoe…” I felt my lower lip curl into my sharper canines. “If you even think about doing that again, I could have Mosavi make your life even more miserable than he’s already going to.”
“All right, all right.” Roscoe pouted, turning away as I continued brushing him.
After I finished, I handed the brush to Adam, then leaned in close to Roscoe. “Who’s my handsome boy?”
Roscoe wrinkled his nose; however, his tail gave him away as always, thudding the cushion behind him.
“Come on. Who’s my handsome boy?”
“It’s me,” he said in a quiet, low voice. “I really don’t like you right now.”
“Is he bringing the guitar?” Austin asked, this time stringing more than a few words together.
“Yeah,” I replied, looking out the window. It was a quarter to nine, and they would be outside of our house within the hour. “Mosavi insisted on hearing Darryl play it.”
“Wonder what he’s gonna say when he gets it back,” Roscoe said. “I’ve been lookin’ for that damn thing for years. I still don’t know if it’ll be enough.”
I brushed a few locks of Roscoe’s mane away from his eyes with my hand. “He forgave you already.”
“He still doesn’t like me. Nothin’ will ever be the way it was between us. That wasn’t just me fuckin’ up, Cody. That was me burnin’ a friendship to ashes, all for a high that wouldn’t even last.”
“Whatever happens, this is the right thing. It’ll be up to Darryl after that,” I said.
“He used to be so carefree. We’d get stoned, and he’d go out and ride the waves or play his guitar. He smiled all the time, but now he ain’t the same. He’s… cautious and downright mean and violent sometimes. Returning his dad’s guitar ain’t gonna bring back the old Darryl.”
“You’re right,” Austin said as we all turned to him. “He’ll never be his old self again, and that’s not always a bad thing.”
The stretch limo pulled to the side of the street in front of our house, and before the driver could open the door, Willa hopped out holding a pie tin wrapped in foil.
Mosavi called after her, smacking his head on the frame as he emerged.
The driver backed away as the old werewolf roared, cursing loudly in Farsi.
“Oh, he does not look happy,” Adam said, grabbing his bag.
“When does he ever?” Roscoe cut in while opening the front door just as Willa climbed the steps. “Is that pumpkin pie?”
“It sure is,” she said, patting Roscoe’s stomach before handing him the dish.
He turned and glared at me. “I bet she wouldn’t tie me up and force me to bathe.”
“Yeah, you wouldn’t tie him up, would you?” I asked, giving her a knowing grin. Roscoe was going to witness her depravity first-hand soon enough.
Roscoe froze as he was cutting a slice of pie with the claw on his index finger.
“What was that look?” he asked. “What’s goin’ on?”
“Enjoy the pie,” Willa responded, giving Roscoe a wicked smile.
The werewolf picked up the slice and shoved the whole thing in his mouth. He chewed slowly while eyeing us with narrowed suspicion.
“Hurry up,” Mosavi said, pointing to the raised trunk of the limo. “Let’s not make loading the car an all-day event.”
“And how are you today?” I asked, tossing my suitcase into the trunk.
“Looking forward to our two nights a week,” he muttered.
“That’s if you don’t like Darryl’s performance.”
“I won’t.” When he climbed back into the car, Willa smacked his rear hard with the palm of her hand.
“He’s not keen on road trips,” she said, lowering her voice. “If I roll down the window, he’ll stick his head out with his mouth open. It’s really cute. He can’t help it.”
“Oh my God, I have to see this,” I said as we both broke into more laughter.
“Let’s go,” Mosavi shouted from inside.