by JC Holly
I should do the same. Only swap toys for men with large bank balances and even larger dicks.
Brandon paused in the hallway just long enough to pull off his shoes and tickle the cat’s belly, then staggered into the lounge and dropped to the couch. After a few minutes of trying not to have a heart attack, he pulled himself upright and jiggled the mouse on his laptop, bringing it out of sleep mode. An email sat in his inbox from his editor, thanking him for getting the article to her on time. It dripped with snark, but it was well deserved so Brandon merely shrugged it off. No point getting into a fight when it was his fault.
His eyes wandered to the cell phone on the edge of the table. There were no missed calls from unknown numbers, so it looked like he wasn’t getting laid again that night. For a moment he considered a trip back to the club. After all he wasn’t bad looking. He could find someone, he was sure. The idea lasted a whole ten seconds before he shook his head.
What if he ran into someone who’d spotted him heading into the bathroom the previous night? He didn’t want word spreading that he was a slut. The hypocrisy made him chuckle. He was thinking of going to the club to find sex but didn’t want people thinking he was there to find sex. Gah, life is too confusing.
Once his legs were working again he made the short trip to the kitchen to make a coffee and down a couple of glasses of water while it brewed. Caffeine wasn’t the best thing to drink late at night, but sleep was a long way off yet, anyway. He’d decided earlier that since he didn’t have to be up the next day he’d catch a movie that was playing on TV at a ridiculous hour.
“So what if I’m up late tomorrow?” He turned to Spike, who sat by the kitchen door, rubbing his head on the frame. “You don’t care, do you?”
Spike mewed, then hopped onto the table, landing without a sound. Normally Brandon didn’t allow him up there, but he was feeling magnanimous. Hell, the cat was probably up there the second he left the room anyway. Why fight it?
The coffeemaker finished its various noises, and Brandon poured himself a cup, then settled into the chair nearest Spike and pulled the newspaper closer and flicked through. There was nothing of interest, but he liked to pretend he gave a damn about current affairs.
“Looks like more wolf sightings,” he told Spike. “Good thing you’re a house cat, huh?”
Spike mewed in response, then head-butted Brandon’s cup-holding hand, splattering coffee on the article. Brandon took it as a hint, and switched to another headline.
“Ah, this is more your thing. A sale on tuna at the supermarket.”
It was probably just the fact that he was getting attention, rather than Spike actually understanding the words, but he began to purr. Brandon scratched the cat’s head with his free hand.
According to the clock on the wall, it wasn’t too late yet, so he reached across from the table and just managed to pluck the cordless phone from its cradle and hit the first speed dial he had programmed in.
She answered on the first ring. “Hey, handsome. Going my way?”
Brandon rocked back on his chair, smiling. “Not since college, Delilah. What are you doing?”
“Eh, not much. Spent the afternoon watching a friend’s house, and I figure that counts as work, so tonight I’m spending quality time with my booze, my TV, and my vibrator.”
Brandon snorted. “So you’re a house sitter now?”
“Nah. My friend, Luke, just broke up with his boyfriend, and I was acting as middle woman.” She threw something into her mouth and began to crunch. “Y’know the drill. Stand around, glare, be a snarky cunt if he says anything.”
“Nobody’s better at being a snarky cunt than you, Dee.”
“True, true. Hey, maybe I should set you up with Luke now he’s single again.”
“Thanks, but no. I don’t want to be a rebound.”
“All right, but if you change your mind, he’s cute, owns his own business—”
“Really, I’m fine.” He sipped at his coffee, then put it down again. Spike immediately put his nose in the cup and then sneezed. “How come you’ve never mentioned this Luke guy before?”
“Like I said, he was dating someone. Didn’t want to point out your singleness.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Ah, I get it. Because if I’d known you knew people who were in relationships, I’d jump off something high, right?”
“Yeah, yeah, okay. So maybe it was a dumb thought. Anyway, I doubt you’ve told me about all your friends.”
“Fair point. Told you about the interesting ones, though.”
“I don’t suppose any of the boring ones are hung like bulls and like Spanish chicas with loose morals?”
Brandon laughed. “Not that I’m aware of, but I’ll bear it in mind next time I talk to any of them.”
“You’d better. Anyway, you want to meet Luke, you tell me and I’ll see what I can do.”
He sighed. “I’ll think about it. Promise.”
He doubted he’d bother, but it was what Delilah wanted to hear and would stop her pushing. For a while, anyway. He wasn’t against blind dates, but when the other guy had only just broken up with someone it made the idea less desirable. Being the rebound guy was rarely worth it, no matter how much he’d love a roll in the hay at that moment.
The conversation veered to other subjects, and it soon became clear that they were both planning on watching the same movie. They talked about watching it together, but neither wanted the hassle of driving, so in the end they decided to do the next best thing and trade snarky text messages when dumb things happened instead. It was the kind of laziness Brandon approved of.
As he settled back onto the couch a few minutes later, though, he couldn’t quite get Delilah’s offer out of his mind. Would it really be that bad? As long as he went into it expecting nothing more than a night out and the possibility of sex, he could probably avoid any disappointment. It wasn’t like Delilah would make him see the guy again if they had a terrible time. And it could even be a great time. That was the thing about blind dates. You never knew until it started.
He flipped the TV on and found the right channel, then sat back with his cat and his bowl of microwaved popcorn.
“I’ll think about it,” he repeated, though this time to himself.
* * * *
The night was almost over by the time Luke had dropped off the two Cs and headed back home.
As he let himself in the door, he immediately noticed that Johnny had picked his stuff up. His scent was fresh again, covering the front room. There was a time that that made Luke smile, but now it only pissed him off. Thankfully Delilah’s scent was also present, which took the edge off his mood. By the looks of it only the stuff that was supposed to go had gone, but it still made the place look a little empty. Johnny had been the decorator of the two, and now that the pictures and ornaments were gone, it left the house feeling a little sterile.
“Maybe Delilah can point me toward a store or something,” he said as he headed up the stairs.
Johnny’s scent became stale the higher Luke went, meaning that he’d been confined to downstairs. Delilah, however, had been into the bathroom and main bedroom, probably to get something. As he stepped into his room, his thought was confirmed by a yellow sticky note that Delilah had put on his dresser.
Grabbed a pair of pants that you’d missed from slimebag’s stuff. Didn’t spot the gay porn magazines in the bottom drawer. Okay, so I definitely did, and I borrowed a couple. You can have them back when I’m done.
D
Luke laughed and crumpled the note, tossing it into the bin. “At least she didn’t find my sex toys.”
He climbed onto the bed without bothering to undress, then lay back with his arms behind his head. The night had been just what he’d needed, and while coming back to the smell of Johnny had sucked, it hadn’t spoiled the evening.
He let his mind wander, and since it invariably only ever wandered to two things, one of which had been sated that night, he found himself thinking about h
is time spent in the bathroom of Manzone.
The guy had known what he was doing, certainly. Would he be as good between the sheets? Couldn’t hurt to find out. It’s not like I’m looking for anything serious. Luke’s hand drifted toward the drawer of the dresser where he’d left the number, then paused. He curled his fingers closed and pulled his hand back.
“No. Dumb.” He sighed. “Ain’t fair on the other guy.”
Chapter Four
As predicted, Luke woke far later in the day than was acceptable for anybody over the age of eighteen. His phone had several missed calls, and a text from Delilah telling him to get in touch as soon as “you finally haul yourself out of bed, you lazy asshole.” He smirked and crossed the room to slide open the window. She could wait a few more minutes.
He poked his head through the window and rested his arms on the ledge as he took in a breath of air. It was going to rain later, but at that moment the weather couldn’t be any more perfect. Clear skies, not too warm, and a light breeze that rolled in scents from the street below.
He left the window open, then opened a few more on his way to the kitchen. The sooner the smell of Johnny was gone, the better.
Now that he’d a little time to mull things over, he was getting a better handle on his emotions. It wasn’t that he hated Johnny, really. Yes, he was pissed off that the guy had cheated, and he’d never forgive him, but their relationship had been screwed for a while.
It had started off so well, too. They’d met one winter’s day on an ice skating rink, of all places. Johnny was there with some friends, and Luke was helping an old colleague out by fixing the lighting. The two had first laid eyes on each other in the small on-site shop, and, as often was the case with Luke’s relationships, it was lust at first sight. It turned out that the next morning they were both still interested in each other, though, and they began to date properly.
The only tough time, other than the end, was when Luke had finally broken down under the insistence of Delilah and the two Cs, and had revealed his true nature. He could still remember Johnny’s expression—equal parts disbelief and fear. Johnny had left the same day and hadn’t returned for a week. Once he did, though, they sat down and discussed the issue, and once Luke had answered some questions and dispelled a lot of myths, they had been as strong as before, if not stronger.
“And then it all turned to shit.” Luke sighed and dropped onto the sofa, his hot coffee spilling over his hand. The skin turned red, but it would heal soon enough. “Shifting. Good for miscellaneous burns, tough on love.”
Love. Had he ever really loved Johnny? His first thought was “yes, of course,” but if he really pushed himself he wasn’t so sure. If that ain’t a sign, nothing is.
Someone hammered on his front door. A quick sniff told him it was Delilah even before she began hollering.
“Luke! Wake your ass up!”
“Come in,” he shouted back toward the door.
The handle rattled. “I would,” she said, her voice quieter this time, “but I’m all out of bobby pins. Get up and flip the latch.”
Luke grunted a protest, then stood and let the woman in. She immediately punched him in the chest, hard enough to knock him back a step out of surprise.
“What was that for?”
“For not calling me back as soon as you got up.” She gestured to his car, parked on the street outside. “Come on.”
“Where?”
“The garage.” She crossed her arms. “Where the hell else?”
“Can I at least finish my coffee?”
“Sure. I mean, the broken windows and spray paint aren’t going anywhere.”
* * * *
Brandon woke to the sounds of the local news blaring from his TV.
“Muh?”
He blinked his eyes into focus and realized he’d fallen asleep on the couch. Again. A warm weight on his legs told him that Spike had done the same. The cat mewed once as he noticed that Brandon was once again conscious, then yawned wide before bolting toward the kitchen.
Brandon watched him go, then turned off the TV and flopped back down once more. Whatever fascinating things the day held, they could wait another hour.
His plan was thwarted by a text from Delilah.
Wanna meet that guy I told you about? Come to this address. Someone just trashed his business, and I figure you could be just “walking by.” You don’t like him, you keep walkin’, honey.
D
Brandon groaned at her latest attempt to hook him up with a stranger, then shrugged it off. Why the hell not? The weather looked passable, if a little cold, and like she said, if this Luke guy wasn’t to his taste, he could just say hi to Delilah, commiserate, then leave.
“Of course, this does mean I’ll have to stand up,” he muttered. “Damn socialization.”
* * * *
Luke pulled up outside the garage ten minutes later to find that someone had gone to town on the place.
The front of the building was composed of two large roller shutters that covered the bays, a smaller door for customers, and a large glass window beside it that looked in on the small reception area. The window was in a million pieces now, probably smashed by the trashcan that lay on its side nearby. The door had been kicked open, too, and he could see from the car that the interior door had also been broken down.
What was worse was the roller shutters. While they were intact, someone had sprayed the words “fag wolf” onto them in six feet high red letters. Already Chris and Carl were hard at work scrubbing at one shutter, Mark on the other.
“Fuck,” was all he managed to mutter.
There were several loud pops, and it took him a moment to realize that it was his knuckles popping in response to his grip on the steering wheel. He closed his eyes and took a breath, then released the wheel and climbed out of the car, Delilah just behind him.
Carl came over to greet them, a red cloth in his hands. “I guess he took it harder than you, then.”
Delilah opened her mouth to question what he meant, but Luke cut her off with one word.
“Johnny.”
Even hours after the crime, his scent lay thick around the doors, where he’d had to stand while he painted. He’d probably broken the window to make it look like a smash and grab, but Luke knew that the inside would be trashed, rather than ransacked, and very little if anything would be missing.
“Why the hell would he do this?” Delilah asked, not even questioning the men’s senses. “I mean, he was pretty bitter yesterday, but this? Jesus.”
“Roll the shutters up for now,” Luke said as he headed inside. “I’ll pick up a stronger cleaner and do them tonight. No need for you guys to help.”
“Yeah, right,” Chris called over, as he did as told. “We’ll be here, anyway.”
Luke allowed himself a smile, despite his anger. His pack wasn’t as close as some others, but it came together when it needed to, regardless.
The inside was as he’d guessed. Most of the toolboxes had been pushed over, spreading their contents across the floor, and a few car parts had been pulled from their display hangers on the walls, but it was all mostly cosmetic. Johnny hadn’t even touched the cash register. A day of tidying and the place would look good as new.
That didn’t stop the snarl at the back of his throat, though.
“I’ll kill him.”
For a moment, Luke thought he’d said it. Instead Delilah had voiced his thoughts.
“I’ll find him, and I’ll make him wish he was never born,” she said, scowling.
Luke shook his head. “No. I’ll take care of it. This needs to be handled carefully.”
Delilah folded her arms. “Are you saying I can’t be careful?”
“I’m saying that, if Johnny wants to, he can make my life very difficult.” He leaned closer. “He knows about me, as his artistry on the doors reminded me.”
“Oh.” Delilah chewed her lip. “And you think he might tell everyone that you’re a shifter?”
&nb
sp; “Until ten minutes ago, I’d have said he’d take it to his grave.” He kicked a spanner across the room. “Now I’m not so sure.”
The words had been chosen specifically, that was clear. The question remained as to whether Johnny was blowing off steam or was planning to do more, though. He’d had his moments of anger in their relationship, just like every other human being, or shifter, but Luke honestly had never expected something so aggressive.
“Right.” He rubbed his eyes. “I need to tidy this shit up. There’s no need for you to hang around though.”
“In the words of your cute mechanic, yeah right.” She poked him in the arm with her index finger. “I’m going to head to the store and buy a large amount of junk food, and then we’ll get this done together.”
Luke leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. “You’re the best, Delilah.”
She grinned. “I know. Be right back.”
Once she had left, Mark came over and helped right one of the larger tool chests. Either of them could have done it one-handed, but with both roller shutters open and a steady procession of looky-loos walking past, it looked better if they acted human.
“A good bunch of people saw the shutters,” Mark said, dusting off his hands. “They only understood one of the words, though. Heard a few theories regarding it being one word, wolffag, too.” He smirked. “Apparently a couple of people are certain it’s the name of some underworld mob type figure.”
Luke snorted. “Beats them coming to the correct conclusion, I guess. Maybe I’ll get someone to drive past in a limo all slow, like. Maybe have ’em shout something in Italian out of the window.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Mark slapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll start down at the other end with the Cs. Give you some time with your thoughts.”
Luke thanked him, then started collecting tools from the floor and putting them back in the right drawers. Johnny would have to be dealt with, that much was certain. How, though, was eluding Luke at that moment. He didn’t even know where the guy was staying. All he had was a cell number to a broken phone. Calling that likely wouldn’t do much, but in the event that Johnny had got a new phone but kept the old number, it might produce results.