Wolfe in Shepherd's Clothing

by David Gane

“Has it?”

  He smirks. “Yeah. It’s proven to be not so hot for my health.”

  Mom seems to approve of what she’s heard. “Then those are our terms. You can say no thanks, Charles, but considering your other options, and that we care and would like to help you out if we can, I think the choice is simple.”

  He nods. “I understand.”

  Mom gets up and puts a hand on his back. “Make what you believe is the best decision for you.”

  “Okay.” He slurps down the last of his drink and sets the cup on the table. “And thank you for the warm beverage.”

  “No problem, Charles. We always enjoy sharing our tea with you.”

  chapter 20

  Charlie and I walk out to the car to grab his stuff.

  “Soooo …,” Charlie draws it out. I can’t imagine what’s going through his head after the family discussion. “Gekas has a boyfriend?”

  Should’ve known it wouldn’t be what I was expecting.

  “And he’s a lawyer,” I add.

  “And here I was, thinking she was an android.”

  “Programmed to fight crime?”

  “And keep us in line.”

  I laugh. “Takes quite an ego to think a robot was designed just to deal with you.”

  “Well, when they make you this special …,” he gestures to himself. “Hey? What about the Research King? How long has he been married to the young Diane Keaton?”

  It takes me a second to figure out who he’s talking about. “You mean Cory and Cynthia?”

  “Sure.”

  “Almost as long as Mom and Dad.”

  “And Mrs. and Mrs. Good-Looking?”

  “Charlie!”

  “What? They’re together, aren’t they?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then what’s the offense?” He leans in and grabs his box. “This is an open-minded household, isn’t it?”

  “Irene and Barb have been together longer than Mom and Dad. But married only six.”

  “Stupid laws.”

  Charlie probably hates any rule that limits people’s ability to be who they are.

  He looks at the front window of the house, the soft light coming through the curtain. He sets his box of stuff down. “Uncle Ed’s a good-looking dude. I’m surprised he’s not hooked up with someone.”

  “He had someone in his life a while back—Jackie—but she disappeared a couple of years ago.

  “Like—?” He slides a thumb across his throat.

  “No! He said her job took her to another continent.”

  “Sure, it did,” he says, unconvinced.

  “Not everything ends in murder.”

  “You sure about that?”

  I’d hope not, but after the last few years with Charlie, I’m a little more suspicious.

  He carries on. “How long are your aunt and uncle staying?”

  “Sally and Sheldon? They head back tomorrow.”

  “Same with Jodi and Bryan?”

  I nod.

  He breathes a sigh of relief. “Your big sis doesn’t like me much.”

  “I wouldn’t say that. It’s more like you need to re-earn her trust.”

  He considers this. “Fair enough. I haven’t been the easiest on your family.”

  My gut tightens at his words, an uneasiness that he’ll be now living in our house. It must show on my face.

  “Relax, Shepherd. Those days are done.”

  Are they?

  “Your Aunt Ayana is hot.”

  “Charlie!”

  “What! She is. Definitely as hot as your mom.”

  “Charlie!!”

  He’s got that shit-eating grin I’ve come to know well. He baited me and I fell for it.

  “You’ve got some nice people around you, Shepherd.”

  “Yeah, I’m lucky.”

  “Do you really think luck has anything to do with it?”

  “Fair point.” My parents taught me that being kind and good is an action, one that requires hard work each and every day.

  He looks to the house. “Time to go back in? I think we’ve given them enough time to mull over why letting me stay may or may not be a horrible idea.”

  I’d argue, but I know he’s right.

  He picks up his box and backpack and I follow him inside.

  chapter 21

  Mom and Dad are alone at the kitchen island, finishing their tea.

  Charlie props his box on the counter and pulls out the radio station mug.

  “Where can I put this?”

  “Clean or dirty?” Dad asks.

  He sniffs inside. “Normally, I’d call this clean, but new place, new rules.”

  “Into the sink. I’ll clean it with the rest.”

  He places the cup carefully among the rest of ours. Its radio logo stands out amid the matching set Mom and Dad hauled out for the party, but then sometimes so does Charlie.

  I lead Charlie upstairs to his room.

  Originally, it was Jodi’s, but she’s been gone long enough that it’s just a spare bedroom now. Mom and Dad used it briefly for a treadmill and storage space, but it’s been repainted since then and left as a makeshift guest bedroom. The walls are bare, except for the mirrored closet doors. An old twin-sized bed with a wooden headboard is pushed against the wall. Beside it is a nightstand holding a reading light and a stack of tattered paperbacks, and there’s a chest of drawers beside that. A small desk and chair fit neatly opposite the bed.

  Charlie goes in and sets his box down on the desk and his backpack on the floor. He steps back and sits on the bed, testing the springs with a bounce.

  He pulls out his phone. “Wifi password?”

  I give him a look—as if he doesn’t know.

  He grins and taps on his phone.

  I smile. “That’s what I thought. You’ll find towels in the closet and an extra blanket if you get cold.” I look around, trying to think of anything else he might need. “Do you want a nightlight? In case you get scared?”

  “Don’t be a dick.”

  “Just saying. New places can be creepy.”

  “Get out of here, Shepherd.”

  I laugh as I leave and head to my own room for bed.

  chapter 22

  My alarm yanks me out of sleep. I squint at the time. Feels too early, but it’s not. Crap.

  And it’s a Monday. Double crap.

  Bleary-eyed, I grab my phone to see what I’ve missed. Mike’s asked again about picking me up this morning, and it seems that Randy from my law class didn’t get his work done on our project and went nuclear, wiping everything off the online drive.

  The day’s barely started and it’s already crashing and burning.

  I drag my ass out of bed, not ready to deal with any of this quite yet, and make my way to the bathroom. The door is locked and the shower is running and, for a moment, I think someone is trying to drown a cat, but then I realize it’s Charlie. Singing opera.

  I’ve heard him sing in the car and he’s not the worst. But now, unrestrained by an audience, he’s belting it out, and it’s not great. As he tries to hit the high notes, his vocal register cracks, and it sounds like metal screeching slowly together in a car crash.

  I don’t listen for long—I really have to go to the bathroom. I do, however, feel reassured: despite his many talents and skills, singing is not one of them.

  I go downstairs, popping into the main floor bathroom before wandering into the kitchen to find Dad.

  The smell of coffee and cooking fills the air. On the counter is a small stack of bacon and eggs.

  “Morning,” he says, biting into a breakfast sandwich.

  “You’re in the kitchen early.”

  Dad shakes his head. “Not me. This is all Pavarotti.”

 
I pour myself a cup of coffee. “He brought his own beans, didn’t he?”

  “Actually, no. I guess he feels he’s fixed our ill-begotten ways.”

  However, as I take a sip, I can’t help but detect a smoother, more flavourful taste. “Better be careful or you’ll be out of a job.”

  “Oh, he’s taking full advantage of the place, but soon he’ll become just another lazy teenager in my house,” Dad says, giving me a parental look.

  “Oof,” I say, laughing. Then, “Do you really believe that, Pops?”

  “I have to cling to my small hopes.”

  I stuff a piece of bacon in my mouth and wander back upstairs, coffee in hand. As I walk past the bathroom, Charlie’s putting everything into “Black Dog” by Led Zeppelin and this time, it’s awesome. His enthusiasm is infectious and I’m caught up in the moment, pausing to sing along.

  The door suddenly whips open and Charlie Wolfe stands there, dripping wet and buck-naked except for the towel he’s drying his crotch with.

  “What the hell, Shepherd!”

  “Me? Why the hell are you naked? Wrap a towel around that!”

  “You don’t believe in the natural process of the air-dry? I only want to be kind to my gentle skin.”

  “Dude, that’s not the point. You just bounced from shower to hall and barely covered yourself. My family—my sisters!—are in the house!”

  “What? You don’t want them to feast upon my teenage magnificence?”

  For a fleeting moment, I worry he’s going to drop the towel and strut around. He’s still in as good a shape as last summer, except he’s now got that rough-looking scar across his torso below the compass tattoo on his chest.

  I try not to stare.

  He catches me looking. “Like it? It’s going to help me get all the girls.”

  “It’s pretty intense, actually. But, please, cover yourself up.”

  I know he’s enjoying my discomfort, which is only making things worse, but I really don’t need Aunt Ayana to come out and witness this. “Charlie, I’m begging you.”

  “Fine.” Unashamed, he pulls the towel away to spread it out and wrap it around his waist. “You have a fantastic facility. You should try it. Go in, let it all out. The acoustics are great.”

  It finally sinks in. We’ve allowed this kid to stay in our house.

  What have we done?

  chapter 23

  After my shower—I don’t dare test the acoustics—I dress and head downstairs. The whole family is up now, gathered around the table. Jodi and Bryan and Heather plan to get on the road soon, and Aunt Ayana leaves this afternoon. I’m pretty sure Aunt Sally and Uncle Sheldon won’t bother to stop in between the hotel and the airport.

  Everyone’s feasting on Charlie’s cooking. Even Ollie has found a place, lying in the centre of the kitchen, hoping he’ll get tossed a piece of bacon.

  I grab a seat beside Heather and help myself to a glass of juice. “Smells good.”

  Mom hands me the plate of eggs. “Tastes even better.”

  Charlie, spatula in hand, calls from the stove, “Better be. Organic, grass-fed. Sometimes you guys are too much—” he pauses, glancing at Mom and Dad, adjusting his tone, “but in a good way!”

  “Why don’t you come eat with us, Charles?” Mom says.

  I can tell she’s a little embarrassed to have invited this boy into her house only to have him act like a servant.

  “Let me just finish the last of these pancakes.”

  I mouth, “Pancakes?” and Dad nods, handing over the plate.

  “You’ll make a good wife someday,” remarks Heather.

  He doesn’t even pause. “If only someone were so lucky.”

  I want to be a smartass, but I decide not to push my luck—after all, Charlie has made my breakfast. I see him flipping through the newspaper as he waits by the grill.

  “You going old-school over there?” I ask.

  “I think I scared your paperboy this morning when I came back from my walk,” he says.

  Jodi looks up. “Why were you up so early?” She hasn’t been as hard on him as I expected—she must still be forming an opinion.

  “New place. Couldn’t sleep. Took Ollie for a walk.” Before the family comments further, he carries on, distracted, “I didn’t even think paperboys existed anymore.”

  Dad asks, “What’s caught your attention that you’re not minding my pancakes?”

  Charlie hesitates and glances at me before answering. “Uh, another body was found.”

  I peek quickly around the table and see all the nervous looks. “Like the ones from the fall?”

  He nods, not looking up. “The cops say they’re still investigating, but if the press is already asking questions, there’s got to be a connection.”

  “Maggie has her work cut out for her,” Mom says offhandedly, but I know it’s anything but that. It’s her warning to Charlie and me both to stay out of it.

  Charlie doesn’t seem to register this. “The whole business is getting creepy. They’ve started asking the public for information.”

  Dad tries to catch Charlie’s attention and divert him from trouble. “Of course, Detective Gekas is smart. They’ll find new evidence. She’ll figure it out.”

  “Yup, but she better get her ducks in a row. The city’s going to freak out soon.”

  Sometimes with Charlie, you just need to hit him right in the head with a mallet.

  “This is Gekas’s case,” I say. “She’ll deal with it.”

  Charlie looks up, seeing everyone’s expressions. “Oh yeah, totally. Let her do her job. She’s got it covered.” He closes the paper, pushing it away, hoping it will punctuate his point.

  Mom and Dad study him, deciding whether or not to believe him.

  Charlie knows it. “Listen, I’m not interested in figuring out what happened to these poor dudes. Gekas doesn’t need us messing around. Less is more.”

  He carries over the last three pancakes on his spatula and plunks them straight onto his plate. He fills the edges with bacon and eggs, and drowns the whole thing in syrup.

  My family is stunned by this pile of food, but he’s still thinking about Gekas. “Besides, did we ever really help, or did we just add to the problem?”

  Good question. The events of last summer were nearly too much for us to handle.

  Yet, as the talk at the table moves on to other topics, my brain floats back to the conversation I had with Gekas last night, and how she asked about Charlie and me. It wasn’t what she said but how she said it …

  Was she actually hoping we’d been digging around?

  chapter 24

  We say goodbye to Heather, Jodi, and Bryan, and wish them a safe journey. For once, neither of my sisters pulls me to the side to warn me to behave. After they drive away, Mom and Dad send Charlie and me upstairs to finish getting ready while they clean the kitchen.

  I’m still wondering about Gekas’s comment last night and the body that was found, so I crank up the tunes to drown the thoughts out of my head.

  I grab my phone to text Mike.

  No need for a ride today

  Mike must be hanging by his phone this morning because the reply bubbles up immediately:

  What’s up?

  Dad’s driving

  Why?

  I really don’t feel like telling the whole story, but Mike will keep asking if I don’t.

  Charlie’s staying

  with us for a while

  Although the two of them have never met, Mike’s a good friend and he’s heard the stories.

  Charlie Charlie?

  Yup

  Silence on his end. Then:

  K

  That’s it. I know Mike’s got more questions, but he’ll wait to ask them when he sees me at school.

  I catch a look at
myself in the mirror and I’m immediately dissatisfied. I change my shirt—a couple of times—before settling on a casual button-up.

  Although we’re not supposed to care about our looks, guys still get wrapped up in all that teenage image bullshit. I used to care a lot more—then Sheri happened and my priorities changed and I quit caring about a lot of things. However, some of my old ways have been seeping back and I study myself one last time.

  Charlie comes barging into my room. “Hey, pretty princess. You done preening?”

  “Can’t you learn to knock?” I yell, embarrassed.

  “Gear down, Shepherd.”

  Charlie’s got on jeans and a T-shirt, with the phrase “Feelin’ Groovy!” written in bold, colourful letters on the front.

  “You’re wearing that to school?” I ask.

  Charlie looks down. “Why?” He frowns. “You the fashion police now?”

  “Sorry, man. I—” I stammer. No one can cut me down to size like Charlie.

  “Aw, quit apologizing. Let’s get movin’!”

  chapter 25

  We’re at school early. Dad’s phoned ahead to make arrangements to meet my vice-principal, Mr. Barry, before school starts and sort things out with Charlie. When we walk into the main office, Mrs. Opal, the school secretary, is behind her desk in the main office.

  “Good morning, Mr. Shepherd, Tony—” She looks over at Charlie briefly, trying to get a read on him, before asking, “What can I help you with?”

  Dad leans against the counter that divides the room. “We’re here to see Wayne.”

  She checks. “He’s just on the phone. Likely won’t be too long. Take a seat.”

  She gestures to the moulded plastic chairs against the wall.

  We all sit but don’t talk much. Dad’s on his phone, answering emails, and Charlie’s studying every nook and cranny of the office—probably trying to figure out the best way to break in when he needs to—so I just sit there, listening to Mrs. Opal’s radio playing Top 40 quietly at her desk. The hallways are empty and it’s eerie without the noisy buzz of students.

  A feeling of déjà vu washes over me. I try to avoid this place as much as possible, but I find myself thinking about when I sat in this exact spot after Sheri went missing.