by Jae
It wasn’t one of Jorie’s scenes. Wonderful. I sacrificed half of my turkey for a piece of garbage. Then she took a second glance. The wrinkled paper was a letter. Jorie’s name caught her attention, and she continued to read.
Dear Marjorie,
The faculty and alumni of New Milford High School cordially invite you and a guest to join the rest of your classmates for your fifteen-year reunion. When: Saturday, August 17, 2013, 7 p.m. Where: Meridian Hotel. Cost: $40.00 per person. Please RSVP by Friday, August 2. We sincerely hope you will be able to make it!
Heather and Thomas Welkins
Griffin glanced at the big cat calendar on the wall. August 17? That’s in two weeks. Why hadn’t Jorie mentioned her high school reunion?
With Emmy trailing after her, Griffin stood and walked over to the bedroom. “Jorie?” She slowly opened the door.
Jorie was sitting on the bed, leaning against the headboard, her laptop balanced on her knees.
“Are you writing?” Griffin asked. While what Jorie was doing might seem like sitting around, staring at the laptop screen to others, Griffin knew writing was Jorie’s job, and she always tried to be respectful of that.
Jorie looked up. “No, just surfing the web.”
Griffin slipped into the room and stretched out on the bed next to Jorie.
Immediately, Jorie put the laptop on the floor and cuddled close with her head on Griffin’s shoulder.
Jorie’s scent normally made Griffin feel as if she were lying in a sun-dappled clearing, but today, Jorie’s scent evoked mental images of clouds blocking out the sun. Griffin lifted her hand and combed her fingers through Jorie’s hair. “Are you okay?”
Jorie buried her face more fully against Griffin’s shoulder and nodded.
Griffin knew better than to believe it. “Bad dream?”
Her face still pressed against Griffin’s shoulder, Jorie shook her head. “No,” she said, her voice muffled. “The nightmares finally stopped.”
“Thank the Great Hunter.” Griffin stroked Jorie’s head. “What is it, then? Is this about the high school reunion?”
Jorie stiffened in her arms. Slowly, she looked up. “How do you know about that?”
“The cats couldn’t keep their muzzles shut.” At Jorie’s puzzled expression, Griffin added, “They were chasing the invitation all over the living room. Why did you throw it away?”
“You know me.” Jorie sat up, instantly making Griffin miss the body contact. “Parties are not my thing.”
Griffin studied her. “This isn’t just any party, though. Aren’t you curious to find out what became of your classmates?”
Jorie tapped Griffin’s nose. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that curiosity killed the cat?”
“You know what they say. We have nine lives,” Griffin said. “And besides, you’re human, not a cat. Aren’t humans supposed to be eager to find out whether Mr. Most Likely to Serve Time in Prison really went down that career path? Or whether Ms. Most Likely to Get Pregnant during Spring Break has a gaggle of kids?”
“Not me. I was glad to leave high school behind, and I have no desire to relive those days.” Jorie picked up her laptop and set her fingers on the keyboard as if getting ready to write.
Griffin could tell that her mind wasn’t on writing, though. The stale scent of old pain clung to Jorie. “What did they do to you? They weren’t the kids who put you in the goose enclosure, were they?”
“No, that was in middle school. High school kids have more subtle ways to make you suffer.”
A protective snarl vibrated through Griffin’s body. “What did they do?”
“Not much. Most of the time, they completely ignored my existence. I was never invited to any of the cool parties or just to hang out at the mall.”
Griffin raised her brows. “Did you want to do that?”
“No, but it still would have been nice to be asked, you know? All I wanted back then was to fit in—to be normal. But then I made the mistake of letting one of the popular girls read a short story I had written about the creatures from my dreams.” Jorie drew in a shaky breath. “She ridiculed me, calling the story childish. The next day, someone had spray-painted ‘weirdo’ on my locker.”
Holding back a growl, Griffin engulfed her in an embrace and pushed the laptop off Jorie’s lap to be closer. “Clueless kids. They had no idea how special you are.” She peppered kisses along Jorie’s neck and collarbone, putting every bit of love and admiration in each kiss.
Finally, Jorie relaxed in her arms.
“No wonder you never want to see any of your classmates again,” Griffin said. “Assholes.”
“Actually…” Jorie stared off into space, and then a small smile darted across her face. The scent of her pain faded away. “There’s one or two I’d like to see. One of them even repainted my locker for me.”
“Then maybe you should go and find out how he’s doing,” Griffin said.
“She,” Jorie said. “But I don’t know. Going all the way to Connecticut on the off chance that the few people I’d like to see will be there…” She narrowed her eyes. “You’re not exactly a party animal either. Why the sudden interest in my high school reunion?”
“I’m not interested in your reunion—I’m interested in you,” Griffin said. “I have a feeling you have some unfinished business, and the reunion might be a chance to let go of it.”
Jorie pulled the notebook back on her lap and rubbed her fingers over the touchpad. “Maybe you’re right. It’s just...”
Griffin slid off the bed, placed the laptop back on Jorie’s lap, and bent to press a kiss to Jorie’s lowered head. “Give it some thought, okay? I’ll support you in whatever you decide.” She left the bedroom, closed the door behind her, and stood listening for a moment.
No sounds of typing came from the other side of the door. “Griffin?” Jorie called after a moment, knowing Griffin with her Wrasa hearing could hear her even from the living room.
Griffin opened the door. “Yes?”
“All right. I’ll go,” Jorie said from her place on the bed. “On one condition.”
“Okay. I’ll make lasagna tonight and then let you have your way with the cook.”
A pillow sailed through the air and hit the half-open door. “That’s not what I meant. I want you to be my plus one and attend the reunion with me.”
Griffin gulped. An evening in a banquet room full of humans showing off photos of their cubs was not her idea of fun. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have the lasagna and a night of hot, wild—”
A second pillow hit her in the face. “Who says I can’t have both?”
Griffin marched back into the bedroom and closed the door behind her. On her way over to the bed, she stripped off her shirt. “Certainly not me.”
* * *
“Three?” The flight attendant’s eyes bulged. “Did you just say you wanted three snack boxes and three sandwiches?”
“Something wrong with that?” Griffin asked. Don’t complain, or I might order three flight attendants to go along with that, sweetheart. Part of her wanted to unfold her six-foot-two frame and stare down at the woman until she ran to get her lunch. Normally, she had better control over such impulses, but flying always put her in a bad mood. Being forced to wedge her tall body into a seat designed for midgets didn’t help either.
Next to her, Jorie looked up from her laptop and patted Griffin’s leg. “She’s a big girl.”
“Of course,” the flight attendant said. “I just wanted to make sure.” She fled down the aisle.
Griffin’s gaze followed her the way she would track a fleeing deer.
Jorie reached over and slapped her thigh. “Behave. What is it with you and service personnel? Roberta, the waitress in the diner, still seems a bit scared of you too. I hope you’ll hide your predatory side better at the reunion.”
“I’ll be a real pussy cat,” Griffin said, grinning. She leaned back and tried to get comfortable in the airplane seat.
In record time, the flight attendant returned with their food.
Jorie rifled through Griffin’s snack boxes and helped herself to the chocolate chip cookies.
Griffin didn’t mind. Chocolate had a poisonous effect on Wrasa anyway. While a few cookies wouldn’t kill her, they would make her queasy. She unwrapped the first sandwich, lifted one side of the bread, and flicked a piece of lettuce aside. Her mouth watered as the smell of juicy ham drifted up. It wasn’t exactly gourmet food, but still good enough. She took the first bite and chewed slowly. “So,” she said after swallowing, “want to give me a list of the asses you need me to kick tonight?”
Jorie licked a bit of chocolate off her fingers, a sight that momentarily made Griffin forget her sandwich. “You’re going to the reunion as my girlfriend, not my bodyguard, remember?”
“I know.” Jorie was fiercely independent, and Griffin didn’t want her any other way, but she couldn’t change her protectiveness any more than she could change the stripes of her liger form. Still, the thought of teaching Jorie’s tormentors a lesson was tempting. “Any asses I need to kick as your girlfriend? An old date who might still have a crush on you? Or someone who broke your heart when you were a teenager?”
Jorie unwrapped her next cookie and shook her head. “I didn’t date in high school.”
Griffin paused with the second sandwich halfway to her mouth. “Not even once?”
“No. I just wasn’t interested, and no one was interested in me.”
“Wonderful.” Griffin rolled her eyes. “We’ll spend the evening with a bunch of stupid people.”
A smile spread over Jorie’s face, and she leaned over to kiss Griffin’s cheek. “Charmer.”
Twenty minutes later, the “fasten seat belt” sign came on. Griffin swallowed the last crumb of her third sandwich and stuffed the rest of the snack boxes into Jorie’s laptop case. “For later.”
Jorie sent her an amused glance. “I’m sure there’ll be food at the reunion.”
Griffin shrugged. “You never know. I have a feeling I’m gonna need the energy.”
* * *
When they pulled into the hotel’s parking lot, Jorie looked out the passenger side window of their rental car and groaned. “Christ, there are mini vans everywhere. I hope you’re prepared to look at a lot of children’s photos.” She fidgeted with the seatbelt before finally managing to strip it off.
Griffin stopped her from opening the door with a touch to Jorie’s leg. “Are you nervous?” she asked, even though her nose already told her the answer.
Jorie started to shake her head but then paused. “Maybe a little.”
“We can leave at any time,” Griffin said.
“Not exactly. We booked a room at the hotel, remember?”
Griffin gave a sheepish grin. “Then we’ll just sneak upstairs and have our own private prom night.”
“Don’t tempt me,” Jorie said.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have talked you into coming here.” Griffin searched Jorie’s face. Had she made a mistake that would end up hurting Jorie even more?
“I admit that I’d rather be home with you,” Jorie said. “But you were right. This is a chance to prove to myself that the stupid high school kids can’t hurt me anymore. I’ve outgrown them.”
Griffin leaned across the middle console and kissed her. “You did. Let’s go in.”
* * *
Half an hour later, after they had checked in, taken a shower, and changed, a hotel employee directed them toward the banquet room. A banner reading “Welcome New Milford High grads” greeted them. In front of the door to the banquet room, a table with nametags had been set up.
The brunette woman behind the table was wearing a ball gown and pearls that looked as if they cost more than Griffin made in a year.
Griffin glanced down at her black slacks and emerald shirt that Jorie loved because, as she said, it contrasted so nicely with her hair color. Wow, she takes overdressed to a whole new level.
“Wait, don’t tell me.” Beaming, the woman tilted her head and studied Jorie. “I know you, right? You were the girl who had the lead in the play we did our junior year. What was your name again? Melissa?”
Jorie somehow managed not to flinch. “Jorie…Marjorie Price. And no, I wasn’t one of the actors. I wrote the script of the play.”
“Oh, right,” the brunette said, but the furrows on her forehead revealed that she still had no clue who Jorie was. She handed Jorie her nametag and directed her gaze at Griffin. “And you? I don’t think you were in our class, were you? Are you someone’s wife?”
Jorie plucked Griffin’s nametag from the table and fastened it to Griffin’s shirt. “She’s my partner. See you later, Chelsea.” She grabbed Griffin’s hand and pulled her past the staring Chelsea into the banquet room.
People were already mingling, standing together in small groups. Songs from the 90s were blasting through the sound system a little too loudly for Griffin’s sensitive hearing.
Griffin braced herself against the myriad of scents and sounds in the room. “Maybe coming here was a bad idea.”
“Oh, no,” Jorie said. “This reunion is giving me great ideas for my next book.”
Griffin had to smile. “Has anyone ever told you that you’ve got a one-track mind?”
Jorie returned the grin. “Normally, you don’t complain about my one-track mind.”
“True. So, what kind of book are we talking about?”
Jorie’s eyes twinkled. “A murder mystery. All these unresolved issues and old resentments…”
“So I’m guessing Chelsea,” Griffin pointed back over her shoulder, “wasn’t a friend of yours?”
“I didn’t have a lot of friends in high school, and Chelsea certainly wasn’t one of them,” Jorie said. “She was the head cheerleader and prom queen.”
“Was she the one who ridiculed you for writing the shape-shifter story?” Griffin asked, trying to rein in the predatory rumble in her voice.
Jorie shook her head. “No, that was—”
“Marjorie!” A blond woman waved enthusiastically, nearly spilling her drink on the tuxedoed man next to her. “Yoohoo! Over here.”
Jorie groaned. “Her. Heather Dettman, Chelsea’s best friend.” She put on a smile that didn’t look convincing. “Well, at least she remembered my name.”
Griffin pierced the blonde with a narrow-eyed stare. “Want me to do something very unpleasant to her?”
“Like what?”
“Hmm, I was thinking of turning into a liger, biting off her head, and spitting it across the room, right into the punch bowl.”
Jorie’s tense face relaxed into a smile. “Well, at least that would prove that my writing isn’t so childish after all.”
Griffin took Jorie’s hand and linked their fingers, not caring about the sidelong glances that earned them.
They made their way over to Heather and her companion, and Jorie stood stock-still as Heather gave her a hug that involved only a light touch to the shoulders and air kisses. “I’m sure you remember Thomas, our star quarterback. We’re married now.” Heather slipped her arm through his in a way that displayed her wedding ring. “And you?” Heather’s gaze strayed to Griffin, dismissing her. “Single? Divorced? Or did you leave your husband at home with the kids?”
Great hunter, no wonder Jorie didn’t want to go to the reunion.
“Actually,” Jorie gave Heather a sugary-sweet smile and lifted Griffin’s hand that was still linked with her own, “this is Griffin, my partner.”
“Oh. Oooh.” Heather tightened her grip on her husbands arm. “That explains a lot. So what have you been doing with yourself all these years?”
Griffin squeezed Jorie’s hand. I’d love to see her face if Jorie told her the truth… being hunted by shape-shifters and becoming their dream-seeing prophet.
“I’m a writer,” Jorie said.
“A best-selling writer,” Griffin added. She couldn’t help being proud of Jorie.
&nbs
p; As if on cue, one of their classmates walked over. She fiddled with a book in her hands.
Griffin caught a glance of the cover. The eyes of her liger form stared back at her.
“J.W. Price—that’s you, right?”
“Hi, Sandy.” Jorie gave her classmate a smile that wasn’t as fake as the one she had given Heather. “Yes, that’s me.”
“I knew it! I recognized your style from when we were working on the school newspaper together. Would you sign it for me?” Sandy held out the book.
“Sure.”
Heather looked on with wide eyes as Jorie signed her latest novel.
When Jorie handed back the book and Sandy’s pen, she met Heather’s gaze and shrugged. “Guess all that childish scribbling I did back in high school finally paid off.”
A triumphant purr burst from Griffin’s chest, and she quickly turned it into a cough. “Pretty dry air in here. They set up a bar over there. Want me to get you something to drink?” she asked Jorie. Maybe some champagne is in order.
Jorie nodded. “That would be nice. Thanks.”
Heather pulled on Jorie’s sleeve. “Oh, did I mention Thomas and I have kids? Do you want to see photos?” Without waiting for a reply, she whipped out her smartphone and flicked through images.
Oh, suddenly she wants to be friends. Griffin sent Jorie a sympathetic gaze. I better bring her something strong. Using her height and a predatory gaze to clear the way, she made her way over to the bar. The smell of vodka and tequila burned in her nose, so it took her a moment to identify another scent—one she hadn’t expected to find at Jorie’s reunion. A Wrasa!