“Still mean.”
“But back to your original question, notice I haven’t done something like that to Shen.”
Stevie, wearing only a T-shirt, started to march her way over to the bedroom door. Charlie quickly caught her shoulders and turned her around.
“Let’s get you changed for bed, sweetie.”
“Okay.”
Charlie went to the dresser and grabbed a pair of shorts and a little T-shirt. “Besides, regular guys your age just irritate the hell out of you.”
“True.”
Charlie turned around and discovered her baby sister dancing. Well . . . it was more like standing and bopping, her head going from side to side, her little hips wiggling. Stevie was listening to the music in her head. As powerful and real to Stevie as Charlie’s car radio. It was her gift, music. And since she’d been here, in this big house in the middle of Queens, New York, Stevie had been moving back toward her first love.
Charlie didn’t know if that meant Stevie would be going back into that world. A world that had been hard on her. Cruel, sometimes. So Charlie wasn’t sure she wanted her baby sister to return to it. But, as always, Stevie’s career was her own. Her choice. Her decision. Her risk. Charlie, as her mother had told her, was Stevie’s protector. She was there to make sure her little sister was safe to do her work. Whether it was music or science.
Charlie only became involved beyond that when what Stevie was involved in could harm innocent people. But from an early age, Stevie understood how dangerous she could be and acted accordingly. She never wanted to hurt anyone. She just wanted to help people.
“Put these on,” Charlie ordered with a smile.
Stevie tugged the shorts on and removed the T-shirt she’d gotten from Kyle’s house earlier that day. Charlie didn’t know if that belonged to Kyle’s crazy sister, too, but it was best to get it now rather than having to wake Stevie up later. That dancer was clearly . . . intense. She wanted her jeans. Charlie could hear her barking orders about her jeans from the living room.
Was it really that hard just to buy a new pair of jeans?
“Now this,” Charlie said, handing Stevie’s T-shirt to her.
She pulled it on and sleepily smiled at her sister. “All set.”
“You feel okay?”
“Waiting for me to die?” she asked.
“What? No! Of course not.”
“I pretended to die at lunch.”
“Did you scare poor Shen?”
“You know I hate when people watch me take my meds. It’s too much pressure.”
Charlie shook her head. “That poor guy. You’re not going to be an easy girlfriend.”
“But I’ve kind of made up my mind.”
“Then there we go.” Charlie kissed her sister’s forehead. “Now go to bed. Get some sleep.”
“Okeydokey!”
Charlie rolled her eyes because only her sister ever used that ridiculous term.
Stevie crawled onto the bed and when she reached the middle, she suddenly dropped; her face buried in the bedding.
Charlie picked up the jeans and T-shirt and walked to the door, opened it. That’s where she found the two dogs. Berg’s purebred Caucasian Shepherd Dog, Benny; and the rescue he’d adopted to keep Benny company, Artemis.
“You two waiting for me?” she asked, but the dogs ran past her and jumped on the bed to lie down on either side of Stevie, who was already snoring.
Knowing that the pair would be watching out for Stevie for a few hours relaxed Charlie completely, and she left the door partially open so the dogs could get in and out as needed.
Charlie reached the first floor and went toward the front of the house. When she stepped out on the porch, she held up the jeans.
“Here you go.”
Kyle’s sister stared at the jeans. “Do they still have pussy juice on them?”
Charlie, shocked, started to ask what the fuck she was talking about, but then she turned and looked at Max. When Max started laughing, Charlie simply went back inside and headed toward the laundry room.
* * *
Shen decided to get in some “sun time.” That’s what his family had always called it. Sitting outside in the sun, usually by water, and enjoying their bamboo. With family, it was a time to catch up with each other. When you were alone, it was time to just be.
He’d always enjoyed the “just be.” It kept him calm. Happy. Unlike other shifter breeds, pandas preferred the quiet life. They preferred sitting around all day, reading or watching TV and eating their bamboo. Jobs were obtained and kept for survival, but there were few pandas that saw their jobs as the end all, be all of their lives. The only things that mattered to a true panda were bamboo and family.
“Aren’t you uncomfortable like that?” a voice asked. And Shen could tell, merely from how superior that voice sounded, it was Kyle’s sister. It had to be a Jean-Louis Parker prodigy. They all sounded like that except Toni, Coop, and Cherise. The three oldest. Whatever their parents did right with those first three, they didn’t quite manage for the rest of the brood.
“If I were uncomfortable, I’d move,” he replied.
“I see.”
Hanging upside down from a tree limb, Shen stretched out his arm and grabbed one of the bamboo stalks from the pile beneath him. He unleashed his fangs and bit down on the stalk, breaking it into pieces. He picked one piece and went to work on it.
“How can you eat all that bamboo?”
“Why do you ask so many questions?”
“How do you learn without asking questions?”
“Except none of you ask questions because you’re actually curious. You’ve already made up your mind. You’re just putting your judgment in question form. It’s irritating, in case no one has pointed that out to you.”
“No. People have pointed it out to me. I just choose to ignore them.”
“Why are you here?” Shen finally asked. “I was enjoying my day.”
“Just killing time until my jeans are washed, and you didn’t look like you were doing anything.”
“Gee, thanks.”
The back door of the house opened and Kyle yelled. “Your phone is ringing.”
Before Shen could ask the idiot to bring him his phone—since he was hanging upside down from a tree—Charlie yelled from the kitchen, “I said to take the phone to him, you idiot!”
“I’m not his servant.”
“Kyle!”
“All right, all right.”
Kyle started across the yard and Shen’s phone started ringing again. Shen recognized the ring. It was chosen specifically for his oldest sister. What he was hoping, though, was that Kyle wouldn’t look at the caller ID because—
“Wait.” Kyle stopped walking, gawking down at the phone. “Do you know Kiki Wen Li?”
Actually, her name was Ming Wen Li but, when she was four, she apparently informed their mother that everyone was to now call her “Kiki” as she would not answer to anything else. Their mother had thought it was a phase. It had not been a phase. Thirty-three years later . . . she was globally known as Kiki.
Now, of course, the question was whether he told Kyle the truth. Of course, lying would only put the kid off for so long. It was the modern age. If Shen lied, the kid just had to hit the Net to find out the truth. So why put off the inevitable?
“She’s my sister.”
Kyle dropped to his knees, eyes ridiculously wide. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“Why would I tell you that?”
“I thought you were just some useless, big-muscled wall to protect me from the plebes. But you know and are related to Kiki Wen Li. The Kiki Wen Li.”
“What the hell’s a plebe?”
Kyle sighed, shook his head. “Poor Kiki. She must be starving for real discourse if you’re her family.”
“Hey.”
Kyle jumped up and ran to Shen’s side. “You have to introduce us.”
“Why would I ever do that? You just insulted me.”<
br />
“With a word you don’t even know,” Kyle’s sister interjected.
“I hope your jeans are destroyed in the wash.”
“You need to introduce us,” Kyle continued on. “Your sister will want to meet me.”
“Why would she want to meet some kid?”
“Some kid? Some kid?”
“Now you’re going to get it,” Kyle’s sister muttered.
“I am not some kid,” Kyle ranted. “I am Kyle Jean-Louis Parker. The future of art. I am art. Entire buildings will be dedicated to my work, like shrines to a god. Never forget that.”
What was really entertaining was that his sister was saying the words along with him. Exactly. So this was a standard speech apparently.
“I am not introducing you to my sister.” She had enough leeches wanting something from her. Shen wasn’t about to add some brat who thought he was the god of art.
“Then good luck finding your phone,” Kyle snarled before turning and walking away.
It took seconds for Shen to drop from the tree, walk up behind the little brat, and pick him up by his throat. He turned Kyle around to face him and unleashed his fangs. Sure. He was a giant panda who mostly ate bamboo, but he was still a carnivore. Not only that but raw bamboo was hard as hell, making panda jaws—and the muscles that controlled them—one of the strongest among their order. Even stronger than the hyenas. Although his polar and grizzly brothers—not surprisingly—beat pandas in the bite strength competition.
But Kyle wasn’t a hyena or a bear. He was a jackal. Tall and a little skinny. Stronger than almost any full-human but not in Shen’s league, and they both knew it.
Shen removed the phone from Kyle’s hand and, looking up at him, reminded the kid, “Don’t fuck with me, little man. Stay away from my sister.”
“Got it,” Kyle squeezed out.
Satisfied with that, Shen dropped the kid and started back toward his tree. Kyle’s sister cut in front of him. He thought she’d start yelling at him like Toni would, but no. She simply held out her hand.
“Hi. I’m Oriana.”
He shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
She glanced down at her younger brother picking himself up off the ground.
“I think,” she said, “we’re going to get along great.”
* * *
It was late when Stevie woke up. She stumbled out of bed and made her way down the dark hallway to the bathroom. She peed, washed her hands, and stumbled back into bed. That’s when she realized she wasn’t alone.
She turned over and smiled into the dark corner near the window. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
“What are you doing here?”
Shen shrugged. “Just making sure you’re okay.”
“You don’t have to stay. You must be bored sitting in the dark.”
“I’ve got my phone. I only turned it off when you got up.”
“Watching or reading?”
“Reading.”
“Really? What?”
“Uh . . .” He turned his phone back on, the light illuminating his face. “Their Life’s Work: The Brotherhood of the 1970s Pittsburgh Steelers.”
Stevie worked hard not to cringe. “Oh. Um . . . you do know there are other books to read than just . . . sports ones? Right?”
“Yeah.” When she just continued to stare at him, he added, “My grandfather was a big Steelers fan. Loved Mean Joe Greene. Used to love showing me old footage of the best plays.”
“Awww. That’s sweet.”
He shrugged again, turned off his phone, putting him back in darkness. But she was made up of two nocturnal animals. She could see him perfectly.
“Do you need anything?” he asked. “Water or whatever?”
“No. Thanks.” She turned back over and snuggled under the sheet.
“If you get tired of the chair,” Stevie suggested, “you can always get in here with me.”
“Yeah . . . well . . .”
“Unless the dogs come back.”
There was a long pause. “Excuse me?”
“The dogs. They were here earlier. They get first dibs. But you’re welcome too.”
“Wow. Thanks. That’s big of you.”
“No problem. Anytime.”
“As long as I don’t bother the dogs,” she heard him mutter.
Stevie buried her face in her pillow, hiding her smile—and her laughter.
chapter EIGHT
Stevie woke up the next morning feeling better than she had in ages. The meds prescribed by her new doctor didn’t make her feel worn down, but they also didn’t make her feel confused or out of it.
The medications were a compound mix of chemicals and herbs that were based on Stevie’s genetic makeup. Unlike her German doctors, her current doc knew exactly what she was and what that meant. Dr. Morgan was able to give her something made specifically for the human, badger, and cat within.
Bouncing out of bed, she hit the shower and was dressed and ready for action by the time Max came stumbling into the kitchen. Only her sister didn’t come from her bedroom. She was coming from outside, her face and chest covered in more deep scratches and her leg viciously . . . chewed?
“What happened to you?” Stevie demanded, a jug of orange juice gripped in her hand.
Max paused in mid-limp, eyes blinking, before—after several seconds—she replied, “Nothin’. Why?”
“You been in a fight with that stray cat again?”
“She threw the first paw!” Max suddenly exploded.
Stevie held up her free hand. “I can’t, with you. But Charlie’s gonna freak out when she sees you.”
Max stopped again, realizing Stevie was right. Their sister was going to freak out when she saw Max, and Stevie knew that Max did not want to hear it.
Max faced Stevie, looked her over. “What are you doing right now?”
“Shen and I are going into the city. To a gym. To work out,” she finished when Max kept staring. “The doctor suggested it. More exercise.”
“More? How about any?”
Stevie let out a frustrated breath and began to turn away.
“Wait ten minutes,” Max asked. “I’ll go with you.”
“Why?”
Max started limping by, but abruptly stopped again. “What do you mean ‘why’?”
“Why. Why do you want to come with us? Because you want to join a gym in Manhattan or because you want to make sure my meds are working?”
“What if I do want to make sure your meds are working? Isn’t that my responsibility?”
Insulted, Stevie slammed the jug of juice onto the table. “First off, it’s not your fucking responsibility.”
“I—”
“And second, I’m going to a goddamn gym. Not a school for bears trained to startle.”
“It’s not just about your meds, idiot. We’re still in danger.”
“And I’m going with a trained security dude. I think I’ll be okay.”
Max limped close and Stevie covered her nose and mouth with her hand. She had to. It seemed the stray had sprayed Max in the chest.
“Dude,” she said between her fingers while trying to hold her breath. “The funk!”
“Look,” Max went on, ignoring Stevie’s struggle to breathe, “Shen likes you. Maybe too much to protect you the way you need to be.”
“What are you talking about, and could you step back?”
“I have one job, boo. And it’s to keep you alive. Because if something happens to you, Charlie loses it. And if Charlie loses it, no one is safe. Don’t you get that?”
“But . . .”
Stevie shook her head, unable to take another second. She placed her hand against Max’s face and pushed, sending her sister across the room and into the wall hard.
“Sorry,” she said. “The funk. I just can’t.” She took a few steps back for even more distance before she went on. “That being said, I appreciate your protection, but it’s a gym. I’m just looking for something I’ll en
joy.”
“And to spend some time with Shen?”
“Is that so wrong?” she barked.
Max rolled her eyes. “Then I’d better go. Because if I don’t go, Charlie’s gonna go. And if Charlie goes, you won’t get anywhere with that panda.”
Stevie had to admit Max was right. Annoying, but right.
“You’ll bathe first?” she had to ask.
“If you insist—”
“I’m insisting.”
“Fine. Don’t leave without me.”
Max finally made it out of the kitchen and Stevie was able to drink some damn orange juice. She stood by the open window—ahhh, fresh air and funk free—gazing out at the backyard when she saw the stray cat that had probably sprayed her sister in the chest.
Stevie went outside and, with the cat watching, placed a bowl of water and an open can of tuna in front of the animal.
She smirked down at the feral beast. “You’ve gotta work on your aim, cutie. So next time you can nail her in the face.” Stevie laughed, impressed with anyone or anything not afraid to tangle with Max MacKilligan.
She’d started back to the house when the Dunn triplets’ two dogs came running around the corner. They did this most mornings, coming from the Dunn home across the street so that they could roll around in the grass, pee on every tree, and take enormous shits in the middle of their lawn because there was no way that two dogs with the combined weight of nearly three hundred pounds could take small shits.
Thankfully, one of the Dunn siblings always came over afterward to clean up because none of them wanted to hear Charlie screaming, “Why do your mini horses keep shitting in our yard?”
Normally, Stevie would leave the dogs to their own shit-making devices because who wanted to stand around watching dogs crap everywhere? But the cat . . . she’d almost forgotten about the cat. Worried the pair would go after the feral animal, Stevie rushed toward it, ready to scoop it in her arms to protect her . . . or him. She really didn’t know which. But before she could reach the creature, the cat stood over the can of tuna, arched its back, and gave the craziest sounding hiss-snarl Stevie had ever heard.
Both dogs stopped and stared at the cat, but when they didn’t do anything, the cat gave that hiss-snarl again and charged them. Like a tiny bull.
And the dogs ran! They disappeared around the house, the cat hot on their heels.
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