by ML Michaels
“I’m so sorry,” he said meekly. “I’ll go back to the office and call right away and clear this up.” He scurried away.
Apryl stood up and wrapped the sheets around her body. She made her way to the back glass sliding door with a smile. She and Lucas were in a good place now, she thought. Their relationship was something she’d come to rely on more than anything.
She looked out the door, and her mouth dropped open in shock when she saw Lucas. He was pacing looking strangely feral as he circled the tiki hut. His back started rounding, his hands turned into paws with claws, and he grew white hair with black stripes across his body. When the transformation was complete, he was a tiger on all fours. She placed her hand over her mouth in shock. Oh my God, she thought. What on earth was happening? She was more frightened than she had ever been. She needed to get out of her fast! She collected her things, jotted a quick note and ran out the door. She was going home.
***
After he simmered down from his rage, Lucas entered the room to find all of Apryl’s things gone. One top of the bed was a tiny folded note. He opened it:
I know I wasn’t supposed to see what I saw. You’re clearly not who I thought you were. Don’t come looking for me.
He held his head in his hands. He should have told her sooner. He should have explained about his family secret — something he knew was a special gift that helped him keep those he loved safe in this crazy world. He had blown it, and it might be too late for him to claim the woman who he was certain was his perfect mate.
***
It had been three days since Apryl fled the island, and she was currently walking into Suzann’s office for the first time since the Yung Fray disaster.
“Suzann, I do not want to be treated this way. I have given you chances to show you care, and you haven’t shown me an ounce of sympathy. Someone who doesn’t care about me can’t manage me.”
“Since you pulled that stunt and ran off with your boyfriend I don’t think you’ll find anyone who will want to manage you,” Suzann said sarcastically.
Suddenly, it clicked for Apryl. She hadn’t spoken to Lucas since the night she told him she loved him, and she had found out his secret. Telling her about his shifting power was probably the hardest thing for a person to do, as hard as it was for her to gain the courage to leave Suzann, and he was responsible for that courage. He had helped her gain courage, confidence and so much more.
Today was the day the original flight was returning. She rushed out of the office glad she had severed her ties with Suzann and caught a cab to LAX. It was time to get her man back.
She stood at the airport gate with a hat low on her head and large sunglasses so no one would recognize her. She waited anxiously as the plane landed and watched as people walked out carrying luggage. She studied every face until she saw him.
“Lucas!” she shouted waving crazily. He knew immediately who it was. He ran over to her and dropped his bags to pull her up in an embrace. As he set her back down she tiptoed to grab his face and plant a kiss on his lips.
“I’m so sorry for leaving you like that.”
“Don’t worry about it. I understand completely. I should have told you about my, uh, family secret sooner.”
“Well, I took your advice. I talked with Suzann and finally had the courage to stand up for myself. I told her I didn’t want to be managed by her anymore. My record label was so supportive. They didn’t like the way she was managing me either. They offered me a spot with their independent label. They’re letting me record one of my original songs, and they think it’ll be a hit! But there’s one problem. Your agency works for Suzann.”
“That’s absolutely amazing, Apryl. I don’t care about the agency. I’ll go wherever you go,” he told her and held her close. “I’ll keep you safe and loved for the rest of our lives.”
All the pieces of her life had finally fallen into place in the most amazing way. Her new reality was even better than the dreams she had barely had the courage to hope for.
The End
*****
Gorilla Protector: A BBW Billionaire Shifter Romance
By ML Michaels
The applause was deafening. The audience roared as Rachel stepped forward on the stage for her third and final bow. The first row in the audience was crying, and she smiled demurely at them, thanking them with a gaze for their love and support. For so many years, she had struggled in this city and struggled as an actress, but now they loved her. They were throwing roses, so many roses.
And then they hit her face. They were sharp and light, with a fragrance slightly buttery and salty. That was when she woke up.
Her eyes fluttered, and she heard a small, malevolent, giggle. It wasn’t roses from adoring fans, or roses from anyone. It was Rachel’s roommate Eve, if she could even call her a roommate anymore. For the past two months, Rachel had been sleeping on what had once been ‘their’ couch, but since she could no longer afford the rent, was very much Eve’s couch.
As she came to, her eyes clearing and breath losing the deepness it had in sleep, she saw Eve uncross her tanned, athletic legs and stroll toward the kitchen. Rachel glanced across the room and saw the bowl of popcorn from last night sitting on one of the blue chairs, immediately knowing what had been hitting her.
Rachel couldn’t blame her, not really. For the first four months of her tenancy, the two girls had been relatively good roommates, if not on the verge of friendship. But the unsteady work of an aspiring actress lead to late rent, partial rent, and finally no rent. Eve had passive aggressively showed Rachel’s room to other potential tenants when she had been at auditions, and it was only when Amanda was moving in that Eve had half heartedly offered Rachel the couch.
Again, she realized she couldn’t fault her, but the popcorn throwing was a little much.
She rolled over, rubbing her eyes and noting the time on the living room wall clock. It was just after 8:00am. Amanda would have left for work already. She was timid and though aware of the awkward roommate situation, and already immediate friends with Eve, she tended to avoid Rachel at all costs.
Eve moved through the apartment with more authority, and Rachel had been avoiding her as best as she could, making sure the living room was clean and that the fridge was always stocked with the items they shared, but she could tell that her presence still annoyed the other girls.
As she sat up, she noticed the classifieds left not so subtly on the coffee table, and heard the door slam with Eve’s departure as she picked it up. There were plenty of open casting calls, and Rachel picked up a pen with the intention of circling the ones that she could potentially be a fit for. Unfortunately, as was the case the previous day, almost every role was “seeking tall, ‘surfer girl,’ blonde, blue eyes” or “sophisticated, wealthy, cosmopolitan.” People seeking a “mousy, timid, girl next door” were few and far between.
Frustrated, she threw down the paper and stood up to make a cup of coffee. She stood on her toes and pulled her jar of instant Nescafe down from the tiny corner of the cabinet that she was still allowed. She was careful not to disturb the organic, free trade, Arabica beans that Eve’s boyfriend had brought her from his latest Doctors Without Borders mission to Ethiopia. She mixed her freeze-dried pellets in with hot water from the kettle with little enthusiasm and thought for only the third time that week about moving back in with her parents in Michigan.
As she walked back to the couch, she took a tiny sip of the hot, black, liquid and winced. There had been many luxuries that she had been forced to live without since finding herself perpetually unemployed, but Starbucks was the hardest. She picked up the paper and opened it up, hoping to find a crossword or entertainment article, but was instead confronted with a small ‘Situations Wanted’ section.
Her eyes scanned the thinly veiled advertisements for escorts, high-end prostitutes, and other unconventional arrangements that seemed to be far beyond the scope of Rachel’s innocent Midwestern mind. She was no prude, but
since being in the city, she had learned that there was literally something for everyone.
Rachel was about halfway through her bitter mug, when she noticed a small ad with the title “Caretaker Wanted,” and read further.
“Seeking full-time caretaker in White Plains. No experience necessary, but only candidates willing to live in will be considered.”
She read the ad twice, which didn’t take long, and made a mental note of the address outside of the city as she stored the number in her phone. Of course, she had no experience as a caretaker, but the ad said she didn’t need it. It might not be so bad having to take care of some old rich person anyway. They nap a lot and that would leave her free to go on auditions. Maybe they would even have some contacts for her.
She stood up, excited, and went toward the small chest of drawers that had once been a bookshelf, but was now her own makeshift dresser and pulled out her last clean sweater and a pair of jeans. She knew herself, and it was far better to act quickly when enthusiasm struck lest it get washed away in the sea of doubt that had become her mind.
After she was dressed, she picked up her handbag and checked herself in the mirror. Her face was heart shaped, with high cheeks and wide green eyes. Her hair was a natural darkened cherry, and the freckles across her nose looked like the pretentious sprinkles of cinnamon on the lattes she missed so much.
She had been told many times growing up that she was pretty, but that had dwindled away when she had reached her gangly teenage years and people realized she wasn’t going to grow much above five feet tall. Her size may have held her back in her acting, but she was fairly certain that caretakers came in all heights. And while she waited for her perfect role, this would have to do.
The door locked automatically behind her, and she was on her way feeling more optimistically than she had felt in a long time.
Rachel rushed up from the Subway and into Grand Central Terminal. She had waited ten minutes in the underground station and all the cars had been packed, but she had made it. She purchased a ticket for the 9:45am train to Westchester and waited by the platform notice board with a hoard of other people.
In her head, she recited the caretaker ad from memory. There wasn’t anything particularly strange about it, only that it had been surrounded by risqué propositions and sugar coated offers of prostitution. There hadn’t been a mention of sex, but was she being naïve in thinking that it wasn’t implied? She pushed the idea from her mind as the number ‘4’ flashed up on the board and she made her way toward the platform steps.
Once she was seated, it all became much more real. She felt as though she hadn’t really been fully awake when she had seen the ad and left the apartment only an hour ago. Other passengers filed in, but no one took the seat beside her, which she was always happy for, but also somewhat offended in that nobody wanted to sit beside her. In the Midwest, people were a lot friendlier, she mused.
The train left shortly after the doors had closed, and all the passengers had settled into their seats. She pulled out her phone and decided the better call the number from the ad to make sure the position hadn’t been filled already. She was momentarily terrified that Eve had laid out one of last week’s papers and that she was on a train upstate for absolutely no reason.
But she didn’t have long to worry; the phone was answered on the second ring.
“Hall residence, this is Bart,” said a clean, distinguished voice that Rachel sensed had been answering the phone the same way for decades.
“Oh, yes, um, hello. My name is Rachel Thomas. I saw the ad in the paper for a caretaker, and I’m actually on a train to Westchester now and I was just hoping that the job..."
“Oh, erm, yes of course,” said the voice, not quite startled but lacking the same sureness she had heard before.
“Is the position still available?” Rachel asked.
“Yes, I believe it is,” Bart said measuredly, “I wasn’t aware that Mr. Hall had resubmitted that advertisement, but no matter. I assume you are on the 10:30 train. There will be a driver waiting for you, Miss Thomas.”
And he hung up abruptly.
Rachel looked at her phone and raised an eyebrow, but settled back in for the short remainder of her journey. She felt better about the position now. What sort of sex-crazed lunatic would have a butler as professional as Bart? She was forced to admit, however, that being wealthy and having staff did not preclude one from the more unsavory bits of life.
Fortunately, the ride was short, and Rachel had little time to focus on whether the position she was applying for was indeed that of a live in prostitute. When she stepped off the train, she noticed a gleaming black Town Car, with an older man holding a sign with her name on it. She smiled and walked over.
“I’m Rachel,” she said and extended a hand, “Are you Bart?”
The man laughed. His skin was exactly the color of her coffee from that morning, but his eyes and teeth were a shocking white, as were the tufts of hair poking out from underneath his cap.
“No, Miss, you can call me Harry,” he said and opened the door to the car with an elegance and surety that reminded her of Bart answering the phone.
“Thank you, Harry,” Rachel said and slid in. Harry closed the door behind her and began to hum to himself as he got in the driver’s seat and turned the key. She wondered whether or not she should have left a note for Eve and Amanda. But what would it have said? Moving to White Plains to be a live in prostitute for an old recluse, if you don’t hear from me, his staff probably have shoved my body into the back of a limousine. She shook her head at the idea. Even if she had left a note, she doubted either of the girls would do anything but rejoice at her disappearance.
“Where you from, Miss?” Harry asked her, breaking her from the daydream.
“New York,” Rachel replied rather stupidly.
Harry laughed.
“Oh no no,” he said, “I know New York. You may live in New York, but you ain’t from New York.”
Rachel felt herself blush.
“I’m from Michigan originally,” she said, and then added, “I moved to New York to try and make it on Broadway. I’m a singer and actress.”
“Course you did,” said Harry, but he wasn’t laughing and his voice was more pity than mocking.
The car stayed silent for a few minutes, and Rachel watched the densely populated suburbs fade into a slightly more rural setting, or as rural as it could be for Westchester County. Finally, the car turned into a long drive way, and Harry entered a long code on the pad before a massive, wrought iron gate opened before them.
“Can you tell me anything about Mr. Hall?” Rachel asked, but Harry just shook his head.
“You’ll just need to wait and see for yourself I think,” he said and they rode the rest of the way up the winding road in silence.
***
“I just realized that you don’t have any suitcases, Miss. How you goin’ to be a live in caretaker with none of your things?” Harry asked her after he had opened the door and allowed her to step out.
The house she stood in front of was massive, even by New York suburbs standards. She could tell it was very old, but the outside was meticulously maintained. A team of landscapers was at work on the western side of the house, which faced a massive rolling hill and a view she was sure was beautiful at sunset. The house itself was brick and columned, and seemed to rise twenty-five stories into the crisp Autumn sky.
“Well I don’t know if I’ve been hired yet,” Rachel said and pulled at a loose string on her sweater, suddenly very aware of how underdressed she was.
Harry shook his head and smiled knowingly as he walked past her, leading her toward the impressive front door.
“Oh Miss, I think Mr. Hall is going to like you just fine,” he said.
Later, Rachel would reflect on what Harry had said and question it extensively, but the driver’s tone was nothing but genuine, good-natured, assurance at the moment.
They climbed the steps together, and Rachel’s
heart beat heavily in her chest. She was sure that if Harry looked, he would be able to see her sweater pulsing rapidly. He was talking, but mostly to himself, commenting on the weather and something about shingles needing repair, but all Rachel could hear was a dull, hollow echo reverberating through the caverns of her mind.
After what seemed like years, they reached the front door, and Harry gave a swift three knocks before retreating down toward the car with a casual ease that made Rachel jealous.
“Are you not…” she began, aware of how nervous she was acting and how ridiculously obvious it was.
Harry smiled gently.
“He don’t bite,” he said, and after racking his mind for a moment and giving his head a noncommittal shake, he added,
“Much.”
He laughed his way back to the car, and Rachel found herself liking him very much, despite the sarcasm and slight patronization, she wished he was coming in with her. But she didn’t have time to worry for long, as the door opened swiftly and a tall, distinguished looking man she assumed was Bart greeted her.
“Come in,” he said, and swept his hand grandly throughout the deepness of the foyer. The sun was bright, and her eyes took a moment to adjust as she walked into what she could tell was a massive room even before she had become accustomed to the dimness.
He was younger than she had imagined for a butler, but still rigid and stately nonetheless. His dark hair was slicked back behind his ears, so dark she thought it impossible that it wasn’t dyed regularly. His eyes were focused straight ahead, at a spot roughly six inches above her forehead, and it gave her a quiet unease.