by Rachel Red
“Mike American,” muttered Allison.
She turned and went to find the principal in his office. He was on the phone when she arrived, and he seemed to be talking to the police. She waited calmly while he explained the situation, trying not to giggle when it became clear that they were doubting his claims of seeing a bear in the hallway. When he offered to put several other witnesses on the line, they seemed to believe him, and he finally hung up the call.
“Ah, Miss Baxter,” he said when he noticed her waiting. “I hope you don’t mind if we reschedule your interview? I would dearly love to continue our conversation, but as you can see…”
“Of course,” she said, eager to get out for her own reasons. “I’ll call the office tomorrow to set something up. Thank you so much for your time, and I look forward to continuing our chat.”
Allison left the office, a broad grin on her face when she heard the Principal shout for the Vice Principal and secretary to come into his office. It was going to be a long day for those two, and they’d likely be answering questions from parents until late into the night. She didn’t envy them one bit, especially since she knew the bear would never be caught.
“That was a hell of a stunt you pulled in there,” she said, as she approached Mike American.
He sat sideways on his bike, leaning there with his arms crossed in front of him and a big smile on his face. He seemed rather pleased with himself.
“I have urgent business to discuss,” he said. His smile faded from his lips. “Honestly, I wouldn’t have sent Louie in there as a distraction if it wasn’t important.”
“So important that you couldn’t wait another thirty minutes for me to finish my interview?” Allison shook her head. “I mean, how did you even know where I was?”
“Walter told me. The boys are all at the Oakwood already.”
“Of course they are. So what is it this time? Did you lose the Huntress and now she’s on your trail again?” She ran a hand through her hair and laughed. “Or wait, you stole too many picnic baskets and now the rangers are all after you.”
“It’s bigger than that,” said Mike. “It’s bigger than just the Hellclaws. There’s a lot to explain, but not a lot of time to catch you up on everything.”
“Well, you better try, because I’m getting a little tired of you guys bringing your problems here. I don’t know if you realize, but it’s awfully hard to get taken seriously as a candidate for a teaching position when you’re constantly dealing with shit like this.”
“There’s a war going on between the shifters, and sooner or later it’s going to spread beyond our kind until it affects everyone in America. For hundreds of years our people have fought against each other, and over the years we’ve done our best to keep it secret, but it’s growing too big for that. The hurt goes back too far, and most of us don’t even know why we’re fighting anymore. Some of us are sick of what it’s doing to our people, and we’re trying to put a stop to it. It’s not easy for us to find some place safe to hold a meeting of the kind we’re putting together, and the only place I could think of was the Oakwood.”
Allison couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “So instead of just the Hellclaws, you’re telling me more gangs are waiting at the tavern right now?”
“Yeah, sorry about not giving you any warning. The whole thing came up kind of suddenly, and we just sort of agreed to it before I thought to call you or Walter.” Mike kicked his boot into the dirt and looked like he was chewing on something unpleasant and wanted to spit it out. “You know I can be a bit… impulsive sometimes.”
“That’s a hell of an understatement, Mike.” Allison wanted to walk away and go to her favorite café to order a giant latte and sit there with a book. Every part of her was screaming to run the other way, to not be caught up in another of the Hellclaws’ wild and dangerous dramas, but she knew she couldn’t do that. She’d come to like Mike and his crew too much, and she’d be lying to herself if she didn’t admit that there was one particular gang member she was eager to see again.
“My car’s parked over there,” she said, pointing off down the street. “I’ll meet you at the tavern.”
Mike nodded and threw his leg over his bike. He hit the ignition and gunned the motor once, before looking at Allison. “It means a lot that you and Walter support us. I hope you know that.”
Allison sighed and nodded, but he was already on his way, roaring down the street towards the Oakwood tavern and whatever trouble they’d brought to West Liberty this time.
CHAPTER TWO
The usual collection of motorcycles was parked out front of the Oakwood Tavern by the time Allison arrived. This time, however, there were also several other bikes parked nearby. Most of them were choppers like the Harleys and other customs that the Hellclaws preferred, but there was also a sleek-looking collection of racing bikes sitting just off to one side of the parking lot. The rest of the lot was jammed full of lifted trucks, vintage Cameros, Mustangs, Chargers, and a host of other flashy cars that most likely belonged to the other shifter gangs Mike had told her about.
She pulled her little hatchback into a spot behind the bar, and went in through the staff entrance. She could hear the noise before she opened the door, and she could hardly see from one end of the place to the other, because of how thick the crowd was. Loud classic rock blared over the speakers, and everyone seemed to be yelling at each other in what she distinguished as between friendly or angry tones. There was a tension in the air, as though a fight was just a single wrong look away, even though everyone seemed to be drinking and behaving themselves according to some over-arching understanding that there would be consequences for breaking the peace.
No stranger to rough crowds, Allison threaded her way towards the bar. She was just a few feet away when she saw something that made her pull up and veer off to one of the booths in the corner. Craig Arctos was lying across the booth’s bench while a slim doe-eyed girl was tending to a wound on his leg. Allison stood there for a moment, waiting for Craig to notice, but his eyes weren’t on her, or the bloody bandage being unwound from his thigh. They were on the girl changing his dressing.
“What happened to you?” said Allison, not wanting to stand unnoticed any longer.
“Oh, hey, Allison.” Craig stiffened and tried to sit up, but that caused pain to shoot through his leg, and he closed his eyes briefly, while squeezing the back of the seat. He opened them again as the wave of pain subsided. “I had a little run-in with a pair of Horns while we were riding through Illinois on the way over here.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” said the girl working on his leg. She wadded up the old bandage and tossed it on the table before wrapping a new strip of gauze around Craig’s leg. “He tried to take on three of them on his own. It was a pretty stupid move, but I’d have been crushed to death if it hadn’t been for him.”
“Did you say horns?” asked Allison, feeling like nothing more than a dumb outsider. These two had obvious history together, and it made her wonder how they knew each other, and how close they might be.
“Yeah, as in The Horns.” Craig gestured to the other side of the bar where a group of guys who looked like the starting defensive line for every NFL team, were drinking straight out of pitchers. They made the burly Hellclaws look normal when standing next to them. “To be fair, we were riding through their territory. I guess we were sort of asking for it.”
Craig and the girl shared a glance and a smile. Allison crossed her arms over her chest. She knew she was being pouty and silly, but she couldn’t help it. Craig had that effect on her, no matter how much she tried to ignore it. “So how exactly do you two know each other?”
The girl snipped off the piece of gauze she was working on, neatly tucking it into the wrapping she’d already finished. She stood up from her chair and put out her hand for Allison to shake. Her hands were soft and delicate, but there was a firm pressure to her grip. “I’m Samantha Handler. I run a crew called the Does. Craig and I go way back,
even before he joined up with the Hellclaws.”
“Oh,” mumbled Allison. She felt guilty for being so jealous, but at the same time, she couldn’t believe Craig was flaunting this girl in front of her.
“Sam here was the first shifter I ever met,” said Craig. “Back when I thought I was some kind of freak, she and her gang showed up in town one day, and I don’t know how she knew, but she knew there was something different about me. If it wasn’t for her, I’d probably be wandering off in the woods like a crazy mountain man. She’s been a hell of a friend to have.”
“Ah, you’d have been fine,” said Samantha. “Guy like you always lands on his feet no matter where he ends up. I bet Allison knows what I’m talking about, right?”
“I can’t say I know him as well as I thought I did.” The bitterness crept into her voice no matter how hard she tried to be polite. She shook her head and looked from Craig to the men of the Horns gang and back again. “I’m sorry, if you were all in a fight recently, why are you here drinking in the same place today?”
“If Mike found you and asked you to come back here, then he probably explained about the problems we have between shifter clans. This latest altercation between our groups was just the tip of the iceberg and a few of the gang leaders agreed that we should all meet up and hash this out with words instead of fighting each other off all the time.”
“I wouldn’t have given Mike American the credit for being such a good politician, but he did a hell of a job getting everyone in the same room,” said Samantha.
“Why do I see this ending with the Oakwood burned to the ground or smashed to pieces again?” asked Allison.
“It’s not going to be like that,” explained Craig. “Our kind have certain binding oaths, and we’ve all had to agree to a pact of non-violence so long as we’re on the grounds of the Oakwood. Until we reach some sort of resolution, you won’t see any fighting under your roof.”
“That’s something, I guess.” Allison shuffled her feet and felt like she’d rather be anywhere than in the middle of what these two had going on between them. She’d been hoping Craig might ask Samantha to leave so he could talk to Allison alone, but that didn’t look like it was going to happen.
“I should probably go help Walt behind the bar,” she finally said. “He looks like he’s drowning up there.”
Without waiting for a response, Allison spun around and wended her way through the crowd to slip in behind the long wooden counter where Walter was frantically trying to mix drinks and fill pitchers.
“Ally, I am so glad to see you,” he said, tossing a lime wedge into a rum and coke. “I had to institute a no-point rule because I don’t have time to pull individuals. Pitchers and bottles only.”
Drink orders were being shouted from all over the place, and Allison set out dealing with the easiest of these first. A few girls with the same slim and innocent look as Samantha, were waiting for tequila, so Allison lined up several shot glasses and poured out a quick line of shots for each of them—plus one for herself. She slammed hers back without bothering with the whole lime and salt routine, and then poured another for good measure.
“You okay?” asked Walter, his eyes straying to where Craig and Samantha were just visible through the crowd.
“I’m fine,” she snapped. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“It’s none of my business, I know,” he broke off to switch out the pitchers sitting under each of the taps before coming back to the side of the bar Allison was working, “but I know you and Craig had a thing going last time he was here. For what it’s worth, I don’t think that’s what it looks like over there.”
“Craig and I agreed to keep it casual,” she said. “What he does with anyone else is none of my business.”
“Are you sure you don’t want it to be your business?”
“I’m sure I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” she said. “Especially not with my brother.”
“Fine, fine.” Walter held his hands up in surrender and backed off to start mixing another round of drinks.
Allison might not have been so irritated with Walter if she didn’t know deep down that he was right about at least one thing. She did care what the relationship between Craig and that girl was. She looked so clean-cut and normal, like apple pie and fresh cut grass all rolled up into one county-fair princess. All of the girls who were most likely in her gang had that same look. They could have easily fit into any given sorority party, although they mingled and mixed with the rough and tumble bikers and muscle-car guys like this is what they were used to doing.
She tried to focus on her drink orders, but Allison’s attention kept drifting back to the booth where some sort of personal conversation was taking place. Samantha kept laughing and putting her hand on Craig’s shoulder, and it was difficult to look at the way Craig smiled in return. Where Craig and Allison had shared a handful of wildly passionate sexual encounters, this Samantha chick looked like she’d known Craig on a completely different level. He’d said they were just friends, but was that all it was? More importantly, was that all it ever had been?
“Allison?” asked Walter, staring at her with a look of concern.
“Yeah, what is it?”
“I’ve been talking to you for like five minutes. Did you not hear anything I’ve said?”
“Shit, Walter, I’m sorry.” She shrugged her shoulders and ran a hand through her hair. “Mike interrupted my interview, and I’m feeling a little scrambled. What were you saying?”
“I was trying to ask you what you thought about us moving this place to a better location. With the money we’re making off these guys right now, we could build out a whole new room on the side, or even tear the place down and build it up from scratch. Hell, we could even buy that place on Victory Street that’s up for sale so we’re right near all the other bars instead of out here on our own.”
Walter seemed genuinely excited at the prospect of putting the money towards ensuring that the bar was more reliably profitable in the long run, but Allison just didn’t have it in her to think about those kind of changes. She hated to admit it to herself, but she was getting tired of the late nights and the seedy customers that wound up in the Oakwood on any given night. If she got this teaching position, she didn’t know how much longer she’d want to keep living above the tavern.
“Yeah, I mean, you need to do what’s best for you,” she mumbled.
“We’ll talk about it it when you’re not so spaced out,” said Walter, clearly irritated.
“Walter, I’m sorry,” she said. “I know how important this is to you, and I promise we’ll talk about it later. I’ve just got too much on my mind right now, and I need some time to process everything.”
Her brother nodded his understanding and went back to keeping drinks flowing for their customers. Allison knew he wouldn’t stay mad at her for long, especially when he had to do his first cash dump in the back because the register was getting too full of crumbled twenty, fifty, and even hundred dollar bills. The various gangs were liberal with their tipping, and Allison had to assume it was because they’d been told this was a shifter-friendly establishment.
A group of the big guys, as Craig had identified as belonging to the Bisons, crowded her view beyond the bar, and Allison was happy for the distraction from having to look at Craig and Samantha. She tried to tell herself that what she’d experienced with Craig had really meant something, but it was getting harder and harder to do as the night went on.
CHAPTER THREE
“What about this?” Miriam held up a small black swatch of fabric she’d pulled out of one of Allison’s dresser drawers.
“Um, is that a skirt or a top?”
Miriam held it up against her chest and giggled. “I honestly have no idea. How old is this thing and when the hell did you ever even wear it?”
“I really don’t know,” said Allison, grimacing at the image of herself stuffed into that impossibly slutty piece of clothing. “I really hope it was a top I w
ore underneath something else.”
“Do you really think you need to go through all of this just to impress Craig?” Miriam tossed the top back into the drawer and went to flop onto the bed. “You know he’s into you. I’ve seen the way he looks at you when you two are together.”
“You didn’t see him downstairs with that girl.” Allison pulled her shirt up over her head and dropped it on the floor. She tried on a tight white shirt, didn’t like how her black bra showed through it, and tugged that one off as well. “They’ve obviously got some kind of history together, and I can’t figure out what the deal is between them.”
“Didn’t he say they were just friends?”
“Yeah, but he’s a guy and she’s hot.” Allison sat on the bed next to her friend. “She’s super skinny with these perfect little breasts and these big innocent eyes. How am I supposed to compete with that?”
“Aww,” said Miriam, rolling over and making an exaggerated pouty face. “I didn’t realize this was a pity party. I’d have worn a special hat.”
“It’s not pity, it’s the truth.”
“Ally, you’re smoking hot and you know it. Not all guys are into tiny little waifs, and that biker down there has already shown you how much he digs your nice big titties.”
“Um, thanks?” Allison laughed a little despite herself. She looked down at the swell of her chest. “He does get pretty fixated on them when we fuck.”
“There’s really no reason for you to be jealous of that girl,” said Miriam.
“Whoa, hold up. I’m not jealous or anything.” Allison frowned. “I just don’t like having to do a lot of work to get laid, you know? Craig and I had an arrangement for when he comes to town, and I’m feeling a need for a little sexual attention. That’s all this is.”