by Lynn Red
My phone buzzed. I hoped to whatever is holy that it was Henry covering my ass. I wasn’t sure my constitution could handle an extended night of miniature golf and pinball.
Actually, the pinball sounded pretty good. Anything that came with endless pitchers at the local dive sounded pretty good. But mini-golf? That sounded about as appetizing as something that could gag a possum.
Or, I guess, gag a fox.
“Sorry,” I said, faking an embarrassed laugh. “It’s my friend Henrietta. Said she came down with something.”
I had to fight not to roll my eyes at the lamest excuse anyone ever gave anyone else. Eustace, bless his heart, reached over and poked my water glass. When I shook my head, he grinned, lifted it to his lips, and sucked the whole thing down at once.
“How’s the kangaroo rat?” Henrietta’s text said. I could have slapped myself in the head. Of course, a kangaroo rat. How else could he drink that much damn water at once? “Eustace is a super-nice guy, huh?”
“Yeah, nice,” I replied. “I feel bad talking about him while he’s sitting there, but he drank like a gallon of water. He keeps going to the bathroom and he wants to go play miniature golf.”
I smiled at Eustace, wondering what he would do now that the entire table’s supply of water had been demolished. Also, I was worried that Henry wasn’t going to text me again, which would be really, really bad.
Miniature golf. Just the thought sent a shudder through me – and not the kind that I desperately needed to feel. I needed a man. Someone with strong hands, thick arms, and a waist that I could wrap my legs...
“Your phone,” he said. “It’s like buzzing.”
I shook my head. I had to get that stuff out of my mind. If I didn’t stop thinking about wrapping myself around a big, thick, strong bear or a wolf or hell, even a badger if he was big enough, I was going to go nuts.
“Sorry,” I said again, grinning. “She’s... anyway.”
“Well I guess you want an excuse? Pip pip, my car’s broken and I need to go to the pharmacy. Have some strep throat. Or, uh, pneumonia, or whooping cough? I don’t know. Make something up. You always manage.”
I pursed my lips, not quite sure how to take that. Mostly because she was right.
“Hey, Eustace?” I asked, looking up from my phone. I dropped it in my bag and slipped my feet back inside the super-cute, pastel purple with pink dots ballet-style shoes I’d worn.
“Yes, my dear?” he said. His voice was about an octave deeper than it had been only seconds before. “Anything you want, just ask. I’ll do it for you.”
I cocked an eyebrow, not really meaning to, but that seems to happen to me a lot. I imagined him pushing a fedora back on his head and smiling at me like that one famous picture of Frank Sinatra. Except instead of burning, sexy blue eyes, I was staring at a couple of beady brown ones.
And a twitching nose.
I balanced one of the forks in front of me on my fingertip to calm my nerves. It was either that or go all twitchy fox-girl, and no one wants that.
“Violet?” he asked, voice still hilariously affected. “What’s wrong?”
“Uh... Oh, sorry,” I said. “Nothing’s wrong really. It’s just...”
I started standing up, not even realizing how petrifyingly rude I was being. But still, fake Elvis voice? Thank-you-very-much.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“Sorry,” I repeated. “It’s my friend, you know Henrietta, right?”
Truth is, I had no clue if he did or not. She’d found his profile online and figured since there were approximately eight personal ads for the entire Greater Jamesburg area, the one within ten years of my age was the best option.
“I... yeah, I guess?” he looked taken aback. “Is everything okay?”
I nodded. “Of course, she’s just sick.”
“Oh no,” he said. The Elvis voice was back. “Do we need to drop something off for her on the way to the golf course?”
Golf course, I thought. “Right, er, no. I don’t think you need to do that,” I said, getting a little fast as I went. “It’s really sweet of you though. Really, seriously, that’s so nice of you. But, uh, no, she’s contagious I think and I can’t get the flu from her because I’ve already had it once.”
Mentally I rolled my eyes at myself. If I wasn’t about a thousand times more obvious than the sun in the sky about wanting to get away from him before, I certainly was then. Eustace stared at me for a second.
“You can still get the flu,” he said. “It doesn’t work like chicken pox.”
I narrowed my eyes, trying to assess what he’d just said. Get... the... flu... chicken pox? Only about half of it processed, and the part that did made no sense.
“She doesn’t have chicken pox,” I said, before trailing off.
I stood there holding my purse. My nose, I remembered, was itching. So was my back about three inches under my shoulder blade. Eustace was sitting there, staring at me. I wondered if any part of him itched.
“Anyway,” we both said at once.
“Yep,” I said, and then he said at almost the same time. “Been nice,” I said, as soon as I figured he wasn’t going to match up with me again. “Really appreciate the date.”
“Me too!” Eustace said, unfortunately smiling wide and standing up. “I had a great time, didn’t you? Say, why don’t we do it again?”
Do it again? Oh he’s such a nice guy, I thought. I couldn’t tell him no. He just has one of those faces I can’t bear. A bear. That’s what I need. A big, strong, muscled-up bear.
Without thinking about it, I started getting all excited. I knew I had to stop, or Eustace would end up thinking I was getting all worked up over him, and that was bad news. So, in the interest of preserving my sanity and his feelings, I cleared my throat.
“I really gotta go,” I said, hoping he’d take the hint. “Henry – er, Henrietta, she’s—”
“Yeah of course,” Eustace said, stepping around his chair and pushing it under the table. “Can I walk you to your car? And what about next time? We could just go to the mini-golf course straight away. Wouldn’t that be awesome?”
It almost broke my heart to tell him that no, in fact, this had been one of the most horribly awkward hours of my life.
“Call me, okay?” I asked, surprising myself. “I’ve got a pretty busy week coming up,” I lied. “After that though, yeah, sure, we can do something else again.”
Just like regretting the choice to consume a whole bag of Oreos and a half-gallon of milk, it hit me halfway through what I was saying. I didn’t want to see this guy again. As sweet as he was, I just knew that all we’d ever share were awkward dinner dates at Applebee’s.
“Great,” he said with a big grin. “That’ll be great.”
“Yeah,” I said, faking a smile. Well, faking is a little harsh. I think I meant it, at least partially. Oh God what did I do and why did I do it? was running through my head, but thankfully, before I could totally implode into a Violet-the-fox black hole, my phone started buzzing again.
“I’m so sorry, Eustace,” I said. “It’s Henry... I’ve got to take this.”
“Of course,” he said, opening the door to my car for me. “And next time, call me Andy. I have no idea who told you to call me Eustace. That’s my grandpa’s name.”
I had no idea how to react to that.
“Henry?” I asked as soon as my Civic’s door swung closed, only squeaking a little bit. “Did you hear that? Why did you have me call him Eustace?”
She smacked some gum very slowly. “I dunno,” she said. “Wasn’t that the kid’s name in those Narnia books? The one who liked the Turkish delight?”
On the one hand, I was glad that I wasn’t sitting in that Applebee’s staring at a fried onion blossom anymore. On the other, I kinda wanted to hit Henry in the side of the head. “Want to get a beer?” I asked instead. I could hit her at the bar.
“Just one?” she asked. “I think I know you a little better tha
n that.”
I could hear the grin in her voice. “You know I can’t say no to something like that. Where do you want to meet up?”
“Actually, I think I might have something else we can do.” Henry had a naughty hint in her voice.
“When you talk like that,” I said, “I can’t ever figure out whether to be afraid or excited.”
Henry laughed in her slow, patient, but very naughty way. “Oh, definitely excited,” she said. “Anyway, meet me at the roadhouse and then we’ll go to the fight. It’ll be awesome. Probably find you a boyfriend.”
Just thinking about a nice, cold beer had me grinning already. “Great, yeah, roadhouse. Mmm... beer,” I said.
Henry kept right on chuckling. “Meet me in ten?” she asked.
“I’m already there,” I said, turning into the parking lot. “Hurry up. I’m going to start without you.”
*
“Fight?” I said. I took a much bigger gulp than I meant to, and choked a little. “What fight?”
Henrietta just started laughing in her slow chortling, ha-ha-ha kind of way and looked at me over the square-framed glasses that slid down her nose. “How do you do it, Viola?”
She had called me that since we were sophomores at Jamesburg High. My family moved here back when I was just the cutest little fox cub in the world, and Henry and I had been best friends ever since.
I never did figure out why she started calling me Viola. Probably had something to do with joining the orchestra.
“Do what?” I asked, craning my neck and hoping to catch a glimpse of my hottie ex-boyfriend who tended bar at the roadhouse. We were still friends, and besides, he was the key to beer. “You see Lex anywhere?” I asked Henry as I surveyed the room.
In one corner, Professor Duggan was complaining about something or other to the town alpha’s new-ish mate, Izzy. She was the kind of cute that made me jealous. Always had something funny to say, or some off-beat comment to make that got people laughing.
On the other side of the room, two hyenas were playing pool. I knew they were hyenas from all the scratching. And then, sitting at the bar looking for the entire world like a sad sack, was Leon, the town salamander. I was always told to call him the town salamander instead of ‘drunk’ but there you go. Anyway, he and Lex were having it out, arguing about some fight later that night.
Lex looked up at just the right time, and I stuck my hand in the air, waving my mug. I’d never do that to anyone else, but Lex and I go back a long way. He was one of my first boyfriends, way back when I figured out boys and girls were different from each other.
Just looking at that big, muscled bear of a bartender got my heart pounding... but I knew him way too well to think about him as anything other than a friend.
“Sam Adams again?” he shouted over the low din of the bar.
I looked over at Henry with a raised eyebrow. She looked down, checked her watch. “We maybe can have one more,” she said. “Gotta get going to the fight pretty quick. Starts in an hour and we gotta go way out of town. Past Jenga Cranston’s weird-ass hut.”
“That guy gives me the creeps,” I said as I waved Lex over.
“You guys going to the fight?” he asked as he appeared with my next drink. He sidled in beside Henry. “It’s gonna be a hell of a thing. Crag Morgan – one of my cousins – he’s the main event.”
“You can’t be serious,” I said, taking a drink. “His name is—”
“Yeah, it’s really Crag,” Lex said. “Used to be a football player, a pro, but something happened. I dunno, he never talks about it. Joined up with some underground boxing-fighting-martial arts thing to pay the bills.”
I was just staring at him, my mouth slacked open.
“Oh, but yeah, his parents are hippies.” Lex slid his arm around Henry who shrugged him off and pursed her lips.
“Hold on,” I said. “Your cousin is an underground fighter. He used to play pro football, and he’s named after a rock? How did I never hear about this before?”
Lex laughed and shot me one of the half-smiles that had broken my willpower so many times when we were dating. “What can I say? They keep to themselves mostly. But Crag’s a good guy. I’m heading out there to see him. It’s been... God, almost five years since I saw him last? Anyway, are you guys going? I think pretty much everyone is.”
He and Henry exchanged a curiously long glance. They were planning something, I just knew it. What, exactly, was anybody’s guess, but the only time she looked at anyone with her eyes narrow and one eyebrow lifted was when she was in the middle of a plot.
“Lex!” Leon shouted. “Where didshoogo?”
“Uh oh,” Lex said, irritably. “The salamander’s pissed. In more ways than one. Anyway, see you guys at the fight? Crag’d really like you, Orange.”
He was gone before I could tell him to quit calling me that.
“Why does he have to call me orange?” I asked Henry as she checked her phone.
“Your hair is orange, the name is cute, you’re cute. It fits. Anyway, did you catch what captain beefcake said about his cousin?”
I wasn’t paying attention, not really. The only thing on my mind was what sort of person this Crag guy was. I mean, Lex, for all his faults, isn’t a bad guy. He’s just, well, he likes what he likes. If this Crag dude was half the manly man that Lex was, then...
“Viola!” Henry said, reaching over and shaking me. “What is it with you and dazing out? Talk to me.”
“I was just thinking,” I said.
“About a bear?” A grin went all the way from one side of Henry’s face to the other. “You’ve always had a thing for the big, furry dudes, haven’t you?”
I couldn’t say no. Immediately though, I started thinking about big, strong arms around my waist. Big, strong hands on my back, pulling at me, tugging, holding me... it was almost too much. It was definitely too much for the middle of a bar. When she reach out and grabbed my arm, telling me it was time to go, it was almost a relief.
At least that way, I wouldn’t have to sit in the roadhouse and giggle myself to death imagining all the things I’d love to have a bear do to me.
“Come on, girly,” Henry said. “Let’s get gone. We got a thing to see. And from the look of you, you desperately need some lovin’.”
I could’ve thrown up. “You... I... what?”
“Oh come on,” she said, grabbing her purse, giving me a little wink. “Don’t think I didn’t see those eyes light up.”
-3-
“Crag” Morgan – Werebear Cage Fighter
The tape squeaked when Crag squeezed his fist. The thickest part of his very thick fingers made it stretch, and a few of the cotton threads running through the tape popped and frayed. He let out a groan and flexed the huge muscles framing either side of his neck.
He stared at the box on the floor with the lid open and the picture on top. It was a collection of trinkets. Dog tags, some pictures, his brother’s old badge, just junk like that – but it was all he had from his old life, and he was in a mood to reminisce. Really, he was in a mood to do anything in the world except fight.
Crag Morgan was a bear through and through – a Morgan bear. Morgans always fought. They were the roughest, the toughest, and the baddest bears in Jamesburg but they only fight for a reason. And here he was, about to fight for no good reason at all. He knew he didn’t have a choice, though that didn’t make it any easier of a pill to swallow.
That was the past though. It was all the past. His brother, his football career, any hope of settling down into a normal life; it was all gone. Even though he was home for the first time in five years, he’d be back on the road in two days. Home was another thing he wanted, but feared he’d never have.
He went to close the box and pretend for another night that fighting for a crooked, shifty, grease-ball of a fight promoter didn’t bother him. At least until the fight was over, the crowd disappeared, and he got to climb into a bottle.
Crag grunted, then he frowned.
Looking back at him from the box was a picture of his brother. “I won’t let him get away with what he did to you. Not for a second. The first chance I have...”
Crag’s brother was a rare sort. The one non-hyena on the Jamesburg police force, he was the first one into dangerous places. Every day for ten years, he kept the most helpless of Jamesburg’s residents safe. That is, until it all came crumbling down.
Marlin Guatorre hadn’t been a fight promoter for long. Years back, he’d peddled drugs and guns, and part of his business went through Jamesburg. So, on more than one occasion, Aiden had run up against him. Never anything deadly – not until Aiden had him cornered, and Marlin shot him out of panic.
With his brother dead, and Crag adrift, Marlin appeared and lent what seemed like a helping hand. That was when the fighting promotion was born. He took Crag out of Jamesburg, and made him a headliner.
When Crag left on the chance to play football – a chance at life outside the ring – Marlin was furious. Somehow, he’d managed to get to him even then. He drugged Crag and made him explode in the locker room... which made Crag run again.
Then after two years of blowing every cent he’d earned, Crag was right back on Marlin’s doorstep.
It always came back to Marlin.
“Twenty minutes!” Ralphie, the boss’s lackey, called from the door of Crag’s trailer. “Hurry up, you go on in twenty, what the hell are you doing, Crag?”
Crag didn’t bother to look over. He knew who it was. Same guy it always was when the door opened and someone told him there was a fighting in twenty minutes.
He wished he could go one whole week – that’s all, just one week – without hearing those words.
Blood pounded in Crag’s temples. He wanted to get up and squeeze Ralphie’s neck until he popped his tiny, pointed head. But he wouldn’t. He knew that. He also knew that Ralphie, for all the things he had in common with weasel, wasn’t one.