by Alex Stone
Mel and Ray hurry out. I stand in shock, but Grandma stares me down, breathing heavily, until I turn to leave. Mel and Ray stand by Mel’s Toyota under Grandma’s motion light when I come out. Mel has her arms crossed and her jaw set, while Ray looks awkward and uncomfortable. Poor Ray always has avoided conflict.
“There’s nothing more we can do. If she tells us to leave, we have to leave,” he reasons.
Mel shakes her head angrily. Rarely have I ever seen her this angry. “I’m just sick and tired of trying to appease that ungrateful old bat!”
Ray anxiously rubs the back of his neck.
Part of me wants to jump to Grandma’s defense, but I get why Mel’s pissed. She’s sort of right. Grandma really doesn’t appreciate what a lot of her grandkids do for her. I’m also hurt. I guess I’m used to Grandma treating me differently than my cousins. Usually, I can speak candidly with her, and she responds the same. But tonight, she immediately shut me out, got defensive, and didn’t seem to understand that the three of us are only concerned and want to help. She overreacted. Grandma has always made a point to say that regardless of what happens between members of the family, her house is everyone’s home. She has repeated this over and over, especially when someone— my mom, usually— got into a petty argument with someone else. But the first time we go against what she says, she throws us out. I want to go back in and call her out for being a hypocrite. I’m a little pissed too, I guess. At the same time, I can’t help but worry about whatever Grandma is hiding from us. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her act so skittish, so the way she nervously scurried about was alarming. Still, Ray had a point. We can’t stay if told to leave. We all probably just need time to cool off.
“You know what we should do?” I prompt.
“What?” Ray asks a little too quickly.
I can’t help but grin mischievously. “Head on over to Chris’s.”
Mel perks up. “I could use a drink,” she says.
“I’m down,” Ray adds.
“Need a ride?” I ask him.
“No, I rode with Mel.”
Mel beams before sticking her tongue out at me.
Thirty minutes later, I pull into Chris’s Bar and Grill, more than ready to down a few Dos Equis. The parking lot is surprisingly full for a Monday night, but Mel and Ray manage to find a parking spot near me. Some rednecks from opposite sides of the lot shout obscenities at each other. We happily ignore them and make our way to the front door, then the bar where a tall, muscular man with a military style haircut checks our IDs. Once we have placed our orders, we settle into casual conversation.
After the first few drinks, Ray’s clearly a bit buzzed. The poor guy doesn’t get out enough and has little tolerance these days. He begins to ramble on about his work— he’s a high school history teacher— and some of the crazy shit he deals with on a daily basis. Mel and I continue to drink as he delivers several anecdotes. After telling us about some insane helicopter parents, he goes on to institutionalized racism, “—and if I want to wear cornrows, I should damn-well be able to wear cornrows— not that I want to, but that’s not the point! It’sss part of my culture, you know what’s I’m saying?” His movements are sluggish and his speech slurred, so I can’t help but be amused. I know he’s only sharing this because of the alcohol, but he is genuinely upset and sweet, so I contain my amusement. Every little thing makes me want to smile. I can’t help but giggle at the notion before I remember that we were having a serious conversation.
I place my hand on his shoulder to show my support and steady myself. “Tha’s pret-ty fucked up, Way, but you know we’re here for you.” My face feels warm, and the effort it takes me to focus on a serious subject makes me wonder if I am as drunk as Ray. Everyone knows he can’t hold his liquor. And I know I can hold mine…Ray also has roughly a hundred pounds on me, so that could be a factor.
Mel clears her throat. “Ricky just texted. He’s on his way.”
Ray grins before rubbing his hands together. “This is gonna get good.”
I take another swig of my beer. So, Ricky’s on his way? This will get interesting, to say the least. He’s Mel's younger brother but is three months older than me. Out of all the grandkids, he and I are the closest in age, and we’ve always competed for Grandma’s attention. Ricky and I used to be close, but we started to drift apart around the time that I first turned. I think he was jealous of the attention I got from Grandma. I stayed at her house so often after that she practically raised me from then on. I was the first of Grandma’s granddaughters to turn, and she was so proud. By the time Ricky turned, nearly two years later, there really wasn’t much excitement around it. Six of the grandsons and two of the granddaughters had already turned. I do like Ricky. He’s fun, masculine not in a chauvinistic kind of way and can be a great support, but he’s also kind of an airhead who can be an asshole. I wonder what he will say about what happened at Grandma’s.
“Oh!” Mel exclaims looking at her phone before excitedly kicking her feet like a small child. “Carlie and Jenette are on their way too!”
For the next twenty minutes, I slow my drinking, so I’m not too wasted before everyone else arrives. If more of us are showing up, it’s bound to get crazy, even if it is a Monday. Mel and Ray proceed to discuss old pastimes, most of which precede me. Mel may be one of my closest friends, but it is easy for me to forget sometimes that she is four years older than me. The family is huge, and it is difficult for people outside of the family to keep track of who belongs to whom, so there are plenty of stories for them to reminisce about.
Mel orders us three shots of Jack Daniels, but Ray shakes his head. “I’ve got work tomorrow. Need to slow down.”
Mel rolls her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, but you told me earlier that it’s a teacher workday. The kids won’t even be there, so what’s the harm?”
Ray narrows his eyes jokingly. “You got me out here. Don’t push it.”
“Fair enough.”
The three shots come anyway. I take one, feeling the burn as the whiskey mixes with the other contents of my stomach. Blinking, I steady myself, only now realizing how wobbly I am. I thought I had slowed down enough. Apparently not. Mel, who has already taken her shot and Ray’s, orders another round. It’s been a while since Mel has loosened up this much, so I am happy she’s allowing herself to enjoy this.
“Hey, hey, hey!” We turn to see Ricky making his grand entrance, Jenette and Carlie filing in behind him. He grabs Mel pulling her into his barreled chest in an aggressive bear hug. “How ya’ doin’, sis?”
“Alright!” she smiles, flushed from the alcohol as she blinks his strawberry blond beard out of her eyes.
He hugs me next in a quick and awkward side hug before turning to Ray and greeting him with a hand slap that turns into a macho bro hug.
Jennette pulls two stools over, so she and Carlie can sit closer to me and Mel.
“Hi!” Carlie says, briefly holding up a hand. She’s dressed as if she’s going to the club. Her chestnut hair is straightened, and it looks like she spent over an hour picking out her outfit. Heels, tight dress, and a full face of make-up, completely overdressed for a place like Chris’s, where everyone wears jeans. She only turned twenty-one two weeks ago, so I decide not to give her too much shit. Of course, she’d think everyone dresses up for the bar.
It doesn’t take long before we’re laughing and carrying on. Even shy Carlie joins in.
“and that’s how my homecoming dress got shredded. After that, I listened to Lizzy.”
We laugh, Mel a little too long. Although Mel and Jennette aren’t wolves, they’ve seen us she-wolves ruin a favorite pair of whatever more than once.
Ricky tsks. “Lizzy doesn’t know shit.”
We all turn.
“What’s your problem with Lizzy?” Mel drunkenly asks what we’re all thinking. Lizzy’s a bit high strung, a perfectionist, but she’s also kind and nurturing. She worries about all of us, even those like Mel who are older than she i
s.
Ricky shrugs and says a little quieter, “I just don’t think she’s got much experience to be givin’ advice.”
No one says anything, and an awkward silence begins to fall on our group as other barflies make banter around us.
I nod before sipping my latest beer, which I don’t recall ordering. “You could be right,” I say and nod more enthusiastically than necessary, which I realize as I am doing it. “But, seeing how she’s been a wolf a bit longer than you, I don’t think you have much room to talk.”
Mel’s jaw drops, and she giggles before covering her mouth and running to the bathroom.
Ricky sets his mouth in a hard line and glares at me. I meet his stare head on, unwavering as I take another sip of my beer. He can be a dick all he wants; he’s entitled to that. But he’s not entitled to say whatever he wants without being called out on his bullshit.
He loudly exhales before looking off into the distance. “Tha’s fair,” he says, nodding back. That seems to be enough to break the tension, and within a few minutes, our group is shooting the shit and carrying on again. Jennette leaves to check on Mel, who has been gone for a few minutes. I should check on her too. She is my best friend, but I know once I stand the alcohol’ll hit me harder than the Baltimore Orioles get screwed every year.
“I’m probably going to need to leave soon,” Ray says. “It’s nearly ten.”
“Need a ride?” I say immediately. Should I be worried about the time? It really did get away from me. When did Ray stop drinking? He looks almost…sober.
His smile reaches his eyes as he says, “Not from you.”
I open my mouth to argue, but then close it. He’s right. “I should probably call a cab,” I say.
“I can give ya’ both a lift,” Ricky says. My eyes widen. “Don’t look so surprised,” Ricky says. “We may butt heads, but you’re crazy if ya’ think I’ll let you get behind the wheel.”
I can’t help but smile. Perhaps, it’s the alcohol, but I feel a pleasant warmth flow through my body. “I’m genuinely touched, Wicky. That’s so nice of you!” I say.
Ricky grins and gives a slight chuckle before turning to Ray. “Yeah, she’s definitely wasted.”
Carlie and Ray smile indulgently at me. I guess I should’ve slowed down a bit more.
“Excuse me?” a tall, bald man in a sleeveless tee says as he approaches. He’s older than me but still young, maybe late twenties or early thirties.
“Yes?” I say.
He places his beer on the bar and slips between me and Ray, so I am facing him. “Hi, darlin’,” he says, grabbing my hand before kissing it gently. “Do you always act so wantonly weak or are you desperate for someone like me to come along and challenge you?” Before I can answer, he turns to Ricky. “Well?”
Ricky’s clearly caught off-guard. “What?”
“Your pretty little wolf here—” The color drains from Ricky’s face at the word “wolf,” and the bald man gives an annoyed sigh but speaks in a low conversational tone. “Even if I hadn’t heard you all practically shouting our existence to the town, I could smell you all from down the road. But do you always let your females demean you? You’re the only male here who seemed to have any balls, and even you submit quickly like a bitch in he—” Ricky lunges forward, decking the asshole who hardly moves. I’m unprepared for the sound that comes from him. Laughter? “You are weak. No wonder two of our juniors so easily dominated your little fag wolf at the school—”
I feel a weight in the pit of my stomach. Wolf at…the school? Michael? Two of them? Wait…fag?
The bald man laughs, “They said they could smell the pheromones as if he were begging to be taken right there in the halls.” His voice goes dark as he says, “But we’re not done with him, and we sure as hell—”
For the first time in over a decade, the fire returns, raging and hungering for blood like never before. The anger sobers my mind. I feel myself shaking my head, but whether in denial or outrage, I am unsure. Before I realize what I’m doing, I leap up, wrapping my legs around him from behind and locking my arms around his neck in a chokehold. This close to the full moon, the wolf inside is already eager to be set free, to run, to hunt, and right now, she is eager for blood. It takes everything in me to hold her at bay, but the fire inside me still hungers for blood.
The bald guy tries to pry my arms off of him. As he starts to flail, I whisper in his ear, “Do we seem weak now, you pathetic motherfucker? Do you feel strong? Do you have a death wish?” I growl, low and threatening. He grunts, and just as I think I’ve got him, he throws himself back, slamming me into the bar. Ricky and Ray know better than to interfere, but I feel that last shot crawling back up my throat. My grip begins to loosen, and I struggle to hold on, not just to maintain control over this asshole, but for physical support.
He spins around, making me dizzier. He fumbles, trying to grapple me. I jab my knee hard into his gut, but that doesn’t help. He gets a hold of me and moves to flip me over his head and onto the floor. Mid-air, I feel myself losing control. I try to contain it, but my body takes over, relinquishing the contents of my stomach all over his head. Unprepared for that kind of assault, he releases his grip early and begins to gag, spewing obscenities. My back crashes onto the hard, concrete floor. I feel better, relaxed even. But my eyes are heavy, and my head kind of hurts. If I could just shut my eyes for a few minutes, I’d probably feel even better than before…
“Tala! Come on!” Ricky says, forcing me to stay conscious and pulling me up from under my arms. The bald guy is cussing while Chris lectures Ray, who keeps apologizing. “Chris won’t call the cops, but we have to leave now.”
“Okay,” I say. “Okay, I’m coming.” I go to stand, and thankfully, Ricky still has a hold of me, otherwise my ass would be right back down on the floor. He kind of hunches down and drapes my left arm over his right shoulder, supporting me, as we make our way to his truck. Ray somehow appears right behind us.
The lights of the bar don’t carry far, and fifty feet from the building, it’s nearly pitch black. I hear the crunch of the gravel beneath my feet, and then the poor treading on my old shoes fails me as I slip backwards. Ray and Ricky catch me. Jeez. I am lucky to have the two of them.
They help me into Ricky’s truck, which doesn’t have much room, but I fit in the middle. I lean my head back against the window to rest before Ray nudges me. “Tala.”
“Hmm?” I say, half startled, but feeling myself already drifting off. He smiles, as if that wasn’t the first time that he said my name.
“Where are your keys?”
“In my pocket, duh,” I say, blinking and struggling to keep my eyes open. I close them again, needing to rest. My eyes flash open when I feel a hand reach into my pocket, but it is just Ray getting my keys. “You ‘kay to drive?” I ask, closing my eyes again.
“I stopped drinking a while—” Rays voice begins to fade out. Before I know it, Ricky is driving down some dirt backroad. I hear the crickets, see the dust in the headlights, as well as the lights of my car behind us. I’m not sure how much time passes before we pull into my apartment complex. Ray makes sure I get in and helps me to my bed. He says something about water on my nightstand, and I nod, allowing myself to collapse face-first into the embrace of my bedding, gripping it like it’s some sort of life-giving force. I haven’t been this drunk in a while. Sure, I haven’t been of legal drinking age for long, but everyone starts early in this town. Luckily for that bald guy, my temper isn’t quite what it was when I was younger, otherwise, I likely would’ve torn him to shreds. Already, my head is throbbing, but I pray to whoever’ll listen that tomorrow won’t be too unbearable before I fully give in to sleep.
Chapter 3
The consistent pounding in my head wakes me the next morning. I slowly open my eyes, which are crusted shut. It’s still dark, but thanks to the light from my router, I can make out my surroundings. Lifting my head, I feel my stomach turn, reminding me all too clearly of the previous night’s
events. “Shit,” I say aloud with a groan, laying my head back down. In front of me, I see a glass of water. Without fully sitting up, I grab it. Bringing the glass to my dry, cracked lips, I slowly sip the stale water from the previous night. “Thank you, Ray,” I say, as if he could magically hear me. I roll over and pull the blankets over my shoulder. What the hell? I really let last night get ahead of me. If not for my throbbing head, which is likely a result of a combination between my hangover and having been slammed onto the concrete, I’d likely get my ass up to investigate this new pack or…talk to Michael.
I sigh. Michael. I need to figure out what exactly happened. If they came after him, if they could smell him, he needs to know it could happen again. Hell, he needs to know that he’s likely to change soon, which begs the question: why couldn’t I smell him? Under normal circumstances, I’d go and ask Grandma for advice.
Last night really was a mess.
With a groan, I check my phone. 4:37. Great. I shoot Michael a text.
Hey! Text me when you get a chance. I’d really like to talk to you. K?
He probably won’t see it for a few hours, so I roll back over and try to get more sleep.
I awaken three hours later to some visitors knocking on one of my neighbor’s doors. 8:03. Not bad, Tala. Not bad at all. This four days on, three days off schedule has me back and forth between being diurnal and nocturnal. My pay is decent, my benefits all right, but I am in a perpetual state of lethargy.
I check my texts. Nothing. Damn. I give my mom a call.
“You’re on speaker. I’m driving,” she says.
“Then why answer?”
“It’s fine. I was at a red light. Everything okay, honey?”