“Doesn’t Gabriella need to be here?” Frank wouldn’t be dancing with Tom onstage. No matter how much he loved the feel of Tom’s body pressed against him.
“Nonsense.” Tom took his hand again. “We can practice without her today.”
Frank chuckled but allowed Tom to pull him closer.
Tom’s blue eyes locked on Frank’s, so close he could see the irises expand. “Remember slow, slow, quick, quick, slow. Step forward with your left.”
Frank held his breath. As they practiced the move, their chests rubbed, their hips aligned. Was that Tom’s cock so hard at his hip?
“I might need more practice.” The words came out breathy and rushed.
“I think we can work on this a little more.”
Frank spread his hands wide on Tom’s back as he leaned in to rest his mouth against those seductive lips. Tom welcomed him, his tongue sliding sensuous and wet against Frank’s in an intimate curl. Frank’s lungs burned as they kissed, too captivated to pull away, too frantic to breathe.
Tom bit Frank’s lip, laughing as he pulled away. “Let’s practice a little while longer.”
The beat of the music filled Frank’s head as he counted off the steps, slow, slow, quick, quick, slow. They continued moving around the stage to the driving rhythm. The heat of the kiss banked in the thrum of the Latin music, simmering in the slide of their bodies against each other in the dance.
“So when are you going to tell the rest of the cast you won’t be using makeup?” Tom performed a flourish with his leg.
The question permeated the hazy seductive fog in Frank’s head. He staggered but managed not to interrupt their dance. “What? I don’t even rate mascara?” The joke fell flat.
Tom dipped down, his leg extended, and then he pulled it up again.
“You don’t want to spring it on the cast on opening night. That might be fine for the audience, but the cast and crew need to know. They’re like your family while we prepare for this play.”
The sultry melody changed with a flourish of strings.
“Okay.” Frank drew in a deep breath. Inside, his wolf whined. Hopefully this theater family wouldn’t toss him out like his real one had.
Tom stilled in Frank’s arms. For a moment Frank wondered if he’d said that thought out loud.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t think—your family…” Tom’s mouth turned down in a frown.
Frank wanted to pull away, wrap his arms around himself, close himself in. Be safe. But Tom was right, and Frank needed to be an adult and face this head-on.
“You’re right. They need to know.”
Tom leaned close, sweeping Frank back into the dance. During one turn, he kissed the side of Frank’s mouth.
“We can start small. Not everyone comes to all the rehearsals at first. You’ll be with Gabriella, John, and me to begin with. But I think you should make the climactic change at least by the first full rehearsal in the third week.”
Frank’s mind blanked, but his feet kept the rhythm of the dance, slow, slow, quick, quick, slow.
“I’ll treat you to dinner afterwards.”
“I’ll need it.” Frank’s breath sped up, and not from the dancing or the proximity to Tom. His heart thudded, but when he looked back he found Tom watching him, not glancing away properly for the dance.
“You’ve got this.” Tom’s voice was steady, sure.
Frank nodded but stepped out of Tom’s arms and away from him. The sweet violin of the tango continued to play around them, enticing them back to the dance. But Frank didn’t return. He rubbed a hand down his face and then started for the stairs.
“I need to get back to work.”
TOM WATCHED FRANK descend. A nagging worry irritated him, a sudden urge to call Frank back and tell him they’d just use stage magic or makeup, and Frank’s secret would be safe. But he didn’t. This production needed something extra special to catch the eye of the town council and maybe even the state historical board. Something to wow the news reporters enough that they pushed the story out farther than just the surrounding area. But was he doing it at the expense of Frank? Was he setting up the sweetest guy he’d ever met to be gawked at like a sideshow exhibit?
Tom’s stomach roiled at the thought. He knew Frank wanted to save the store. Heck, Frank might be out of a job if this venture didn’t go well for Annie. But if Tom was honest with himself, he knew deep down the selfish need to succeed after failing so spectacularly in New York, was what had been spurring him on. And he couldn’t stop now that they were so far in.
He surveyed the finished bleacherlike risers. They’d already arranged the rental of the fancy folding chairs for patrons to sit on and enjoy the short play. The smell of sawdust and pine permeated the small space, and he crossed the floor to open a window.
“Good idea. I brought masks, but ventilation will help.”
Tom spun around at the words and the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. His brother-in-law, John, hefted two paint cans and a plastic grocery bag.
John had always been a conundrum for Tom. He knew Annie adored the silent, somewhat taciturn man who always inserted himself as the voice of reason in any conversation.
“Black matte?” Tom took one of the paint cans from him.
“Yep. I sent the rest of the crew home. We should be able to knock this out in under an hour ourselves.”
Tom laid out a tarp while John used a screwdriver to open the paint cans. He stirred the paint.
Tom and John didn’t talk. They had little in common other than Annie and Marcie. And they’d gotten off to a bad start. Tom had been a teenager when they first met, so caught up in his own hopes and dreams he’d had little time or inclination to get to know Annie’s boyfriends. She’d surprised everyone when she’d quietly gone to the courthouse on a Tuesday morning and married John. But by then, Tom had been packing to leave for New York and had just wished them well as he said goodbye.
Tom took his tray, loading up the spongy roller with paint.
“We appreciate you helping with this, Tom.” John’s quiet voice surprised him. Tom turned from where he’d been rolling on the first coat of paint to the risers.
“I’m happy to help. I know Annie loves this place.”
“Yeah.” John painted on the other set of risers. “She’s been on a push to get it recognized as a historic landmark by the city because it could help with the state and national paperwork.”
An awkward silence fell between them as they worked. Long strokes against the wood. The paint bright and sticky in the light.
“Dick Majors wanting the property surprised me.” Tom stifled a sneeze as the paint fumes tickled his nose.
“We were surprised too. It came up when the lease expired last year. That’s why Annie wanted to buy the place. She couldn’t stand it if Dick tore the old building down to put up a parking lot.”
Tom stopped painting. “Doesn’t he have more strip malls to build somewhere?”
“Across the street.” John pointed with his roller at the window. “He’s trying to sell the mayor and the rest of the town council on a wholesale Main Street revitalization project that will include tearing down all the storefronts and replacing them with chain stores.”
Tom sighed. “And Waycroft Falls would lose a little more of its charm.”
“And history. I hope it doesn’t involve us losing our shirts.” John rose from his crouch near the bottom of the risers and stretched out his back. “Your dad’s estate was enough for us to put a down payment on the store and get a mortgage to buy it from the previous owner, but since then, we’ve fixed a roof leak and overhauled the plumbing.”
“Shit. Was the owner just patching things until you guys bought it?” Tom hadn’t realized Annie and John had sunk so much into the store. No wonder they needed something to bring in extra revenue.
“Looks like.” John wiped at his forehead with the back of his hand. “I wanted to say, I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye, but we’re struggling,
and…” John glanced away toward the window. “We both appreciate it. You trying to help us out by opening the performance venue. I know you didn’t want to come down here and spend your summer in Waycroft Falls, but it means a lot.”
Tom froze, listening to his stoic, often disapproving brother-in-law give the longest speech he’d ever heard from the man.
“You’re my family, John.” Tom cleared his throat a little. “Just like Annie and Marcie.”
John nodded and breathed in through his nose. “I wanted you to know.”
Tom put down his paint roller and held out his arms. “Hug?”
“Don’t push it.” John snorted.
Tom picked up his roller again. They continued working, the silence more companionable this time. Until Tom had to ask, “You know, I always thought you didn’t like me when you married Annie.”
John said nothing for a long moment, and Tom wondered if they were going to ignore the big, fat, homophobic elephant in the room.
“It wasn’t you.”
“My clothes then?” Tom pounced. He couldn’t let this go. It was ridiculous. He was staying in the man’s basement, and he was baiting him like a bear.
“Naw. I was jealous.”
Tom nearly dropped the roller from his nerveless fingers. “What? Of Me? Why?”
John continued to roll the paint across the expanse of the top riser. “Annie was always so focused on you. I was jealous.”
“She’s my sister.”
“She acted like your mother.” John’s point lingered in the air. Tom could hear a faint sidewalk conversation outside between two women.
“Our mother died when I was five, and our dad never remarried, so Annie’s always looked out for me.” Tom realized he’d taken Annie’s support for granted. She’d been there for him, his head cheerleader whether it was the high school play he’d won the lead in or the year he’d taken up guitar. She’d taken him to play rehearsal, carted him to guitar lessons, and defended him to their dad who hadn’t been on board with having a gay son. She’d been the one to bring their dad around, and Tom thought she’d done the same with John.
“So, not that I was gay?”
John chuckled. “My uncle’s gay. Why would I have a problem with that?”
“Wait, what?” Tom’s heart couldn’t take any more surprises from John today. “Why didn’t I know you had a gay uncle?”
“Easy.” John grinned. “You never asked. It never came up. And my uncle lives in Seattle.”
That he’d misjudged John floored Tom. All this time he’d had this erroneous image of his redneck brother-in-law who tolerated him but wouldn’t give him the time of day.
“I hope you’re no longer jealous.”
John dropped his roller in the pan, looking over the risers he’d finished. “Nope. She settled down once you left for New York. When she realized you were successful on your own.”
Successful. Tom’s stomach soured at the word. He was so successful in New York that he’d never even come close to his dream of being a Broadway star.
“Yeah.” He still had a couple more areas to finish, and he concentrated on rolling the black paint over and over until the wood disappeared.
“Here, let me help.” John’s roller flashed beside Tom’s, helping him get the job done.
“Thanks.” Tom peeped sideways at John, and between the two of them, they finished the first coat.
When Frank walked back down to the front checkout, the store’s part-timer, Jessica, made a frantic motion for him to hurry.
He scooted behind the counter.
“The dick is back,” she whispered, pointing at the back office. Jessica, who was all helpfulness to customers and always wore a button on her shirt that sported a tea-drinking octopus reading a book, had never called Council Member Dick Majors by his name, only referring to him as “the dick.”
“What does he want?”
“He came in here, yelling about code violations.” The freckles stood out stark on Jessica’s face. “He won’t shut the bookstore down, will he?”
Frank glanced toward the back. He listened hard and heard Annie’s voice rising. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”
He was just the store manager, but he didn’t think of the bookshop as just a workplace anymore. It was home, and Annie was family. She had been ever since she’d given him a job when he’d shown up in town, friendless, homeless, and carrying everything he owned in a backpack over his shoulder. She must have seen his desperation and hurt, because she took him in, helping him settle into town, inviting him over to dinner with her family, and accepting him when he’d told her his secret.
He owed her everything. And he wouldn’t let Dick Majors take the shop away from her.
Frank stomped to the back, seeing the door open and hearing Dick’s blustering voice before he reached the threshold. Annie didn’t see Frank slip in. Neither of them did. They were too wrapped up in their verbal sparring match.
“You need to take my offer. It’s the best one you’ll ever get for this heap of rubble.”
“I’m not selling,” Annie spat back. She planted her fists on her hips as she leaned into Dick’s wide, smarmy face. His shiny scalp showed through the thinning hair of his comb-over, and his lip curled beneath his mustache.
“I own this store, and as long as I do, you can’t do anything.” Annie’s eyes grew cold and flinty.
“Let’s see how long that lasts when I buy your mortgage from the bank.” Dick lifted his chin, or would have if it hadn’t been nonexistent in the wattle of skin at his neck.
Annie paused, her lips flattening into a thin line as if this news surprised her. But she unclenched her jaw, making the muscle at her throat twitch. “We’re going ahead with our plans. We’re not only going to bring in new revenue, but we’ll succeed in getting the store on the historic register.”
“There is no way your little side venture will bring in enough money to save this place. It’s a relic. The town needs it torn down.” The apples of Dick’s cheeks widened over the white veneer of his teeth. It made Frank’s hackles rise, and his wolf rose, preparing for an attack. “And I’m going to make sure the town council doesn’t approve your petition.”
“This building is part of the town’s history.” Frank stepped forward. He’d worried that Annie might feel he was overstepping his bounds by barging in on the argument, but her look of relief allayed those fears.
Dick sneered. “What do you care? You’re not even from here.” The ugly look on Dick’s face made Frank’s blood boil.
“He lives here. He works here. He belongs here.” Annie punctuated each statement with a jabbing finger at Dick’s chest.
Dick swatted her hand away with a careless movement that made Annie stumble back.
Frank saw red. He bared his teeth, the growl rising from deep in his chest. He lurched forward, his hands closing around Dick’s shirtfront.
“You don’t touch her.” The guttural roar shocked Frank and Dick.
“Get your hands off me.” Dick’s trembling voice rose.
Frank’s wolf raged inside him, scrabbling to emerge. Frank held it in check, but the growl in his voice became more pronounced. A tingle started in his mouth as if his canines were extending. But that couldn’t be. He hadn’t triggered hands to paws.
And then Frank caught sight of his hands, the nails already grown. They were ripping into the cloth of Dick’s cheap dress shirt.
Frank’s own shirt itched like hair was sprouting, and he realized the change was happening. He was shifting to his wolf.
He let Dick go with a shove and backed away.
Annie came forward, placing herself between them. “Get out of my store, Dick.”
Shaken, Dick straightened his light jacket and shuffled toward the door. “You’re making a mistake. Take my offer, or you’ll go bankrupt.”
“No deal.” Annie’s voice remained firm. “Let me show you to the door.”
She followed him out, but Frank stay
ed behind in the office. In his head he kept repeating, paws to hands, claws to fingers, paws to hands, claws to fingers, paws to hands, claws to fingers.
He flexed his fingers; the claws retracted. Frank ran his tongue across his mouth, the sharp canines no longer extended. He took a deep, shaky breath.
“Got a little heated there.” Annie’s hesitant voice greeted him from the doorway.
“I’m sorry. I’ve never… The wolf doesn’t… I don’t…” Frank’s tongue tripped over the words as he scrambled to explain. He should have control over his wolf. He usually did, holding it back with his metaphysical fingernails sometimes, but he did. Except for once.
“It’s okay, Frank.” Annie laid a comforting hand on his arm.
“No, it’s not.” Frank’s hands felt cold. He clenched and unclenched them. “I lost control. I could have hurt him.” He looked up at Annie, and her stricken face plunged a knife right into his heart, but he had to complete the thought that plagued him. “I could have hurt you.”
Annie’s jaw set, and she shook her head. “Frank, you are no more dangerous than my six-year-old. You’ve never hurt anyone.”
“But I could.” The words sobbed out of him. “That’s why… That’s why Shirley asked me to leave. I snapped at Robbie. At my little sister. I could have hurt her.” He couldn’t get enough air in his lungs. His heart was beating too fast, and he didn’t know how to stop it.
Annie pulled him down to the tatty sofa she kept in the back office. She hugged him, and he resisted, a ball of misery and fear.
“Frank, you were trying to protect me. You’re not a dangerous animal. We’ve talked about this. You need to stop thinking of yourself like that.” Annie squeezed him, and Frank’s shoulders released a little.
“I’m afraid.” The words hurt to voice. If his wolf turned on everyone he loved, then he’d have no one again. A real lone wolf.
“You don’t need to be. I know you won’t hurt me.” She grabbed his hands and stared at him.
“But what about Tom? What if I hurt him or Marcie? Or John?” Frank watched Annie think about it.
“I don’t think you will. But if it makes you feel better, go home and calm down. Eat a little comfort food, get some exercise, and work out your aggression. Come back tomorrow and start fresh.”
Wolf Around the Corner Page 11