Phillipe

by Becca Fanning

  “I don’t mind,” Coraline said.

  “Need something else?” he said.

  “Just a moment with you.”

  “Do you really need the vodka?”

  “Of course. And I’m here to grab peanuts. Of course, this place is always a wreck so if it takes us a moment to find what we’re looking for, would anyone notice?”

  “Well, I’ve already got what I was looking for so I’ll get out of your way and let you find the peanuts.”

  She was blocking the door and refused to budge. “I meant, this is a good time for us to get to know each other a little better. I’ve been watching you since I started. Haven’t you been watching me, too?”

  “I’m sure you’re used to guys watching you, but no, I haven’t been.”

  She pouted.

  “Look, you know you’re gorgeous, you don’t need me to tell you that. But I’m not looking for anything right now, not a girlfriend, not a fling, nothing. Excuse me.” He eased past her. She moved but only barely, so his body brushed against hers as they passed each other.

  He stayed close to Michael, chatting with him about his wife and kids, and keeping his back to Coraline as much as possible. He could feel her eyes on him, but he didn’t want to meet her gaze. He should have known it would come to this.

  They’d had a few female bartenders, though most didn’t last long in the lewd atmosphere of the club, and all of them had made flirty eyes at him at some point in their brief time at the club. Each time he had quietly and politely told them exactly what he’d told Coraline and each of them had been visibly disappointed but had quickly moved on.

  “You know, I’m glad I’m married,” Michael said.

  “I know, I know, you’re so happy. Keep rubbing it in.”

  “No, I don’t mean it like that. I mean, I’m glad I’m done with the casual sex and the mess that comes along with it.”

  “That’s random.”

  “Coraline has been staring at you like a dog chained six inches short of a juicy steak.”

  “Descriptive.”

  “Seriously. Watch that one. She’s already slept with one of the other bouncers, and with one of the bartenders.”

  “So?”

  “I’m just saying, watch it. She’s just looking for notches on her belt.”

  “Doesn’t change anything. I didn’t want her before, I don’t want her now, has nothing to do with how many people she’s slept with. Seriously, she could do every second patron through the door, male or female, and I wouldn’t care. I’m not looking right now.”

  “Well, she is. And she’s looking at you.”

  “I already told her I’m not interested. She’ll move on.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  Chapter 4

  There were a lot of ways that Phillipe liked to spend his evenings off. There were a lot more ways that he’d prefer not to spend them. But this, this was probably one of the worst things to do with his time. The only reason he was here was because Remy, and his father before him, put a lot of stock in family and second chances.

  As far as Phillipe was concerned, his family had already blown their second chance. And their twenty-second. But until they did something that would tip Remy’s opinion in his favor instead of theirs, he had to make this trip at least once a month.

  Once Jules had been going on about all the horrible fathers and Phillipe had commented ‘hey, my parents are normal’. Looking up at the single-story bungalow with the neatly trimmed lawn and the white picket fence he knew that to be true. They’re normal. It’s the rest of us who are freaks.

  He climbed out of the car. He’d pulled his grey t-shirt out of the back of the closet – this was the only time he ever wore it, the only time he wore something other than black. He was tired of defending his wardrobe, tired of denying he was goth or emo when it was simply a matter of comfort, and a requirement of work. But they didn’t understand. Or they didn’t bother to listen in the first place. Having a gray shirt was just easier.

  He did a lot because it was just easier.

  He knocked on the front door and waited. It wasn’t a large house and even if his mom had her hands full with something, it never took her this long. He knocked again. Finally his mom appeared at the door.

  “Sorry I kept you waiting. I didn’t hear the door. Why didn’t you just come in? You’re not a stranger.”

  “It’s not my house,” he replied. “Walking in would have been rude.”

  She sniffed disdainfully. “You’re always welcome. You really could come over more often. You’re not a bother.”

  Almost every visit began with some variation of this conversation. “I’m pretty busy.”

  “Okay, all right. At least we get to see you this often.”

  “Where’s Dad?”

  “Working on something in the garage. Why don’t you go on through and see him? Supper is almost ready. And tell him to wash his hands when he’s finished out there.”

  “Sure.” He headed for the back door. Anything was better than being cooped up alone with his mother, but there was no way he was telling a grown man, how many years his senior, to wash his hands as though he were a thoughtless child.

  Stepping into the back yard, he heard a rhythmic clanging from the garage and he paused. Building another cage, Dad? A bigger one this time? Going to turn the whole garage into a safe room so your precious son will come home again?

  He shook off the memories and forced himself to go to the garage.

  His dad had a bright blue metal pipe in a table clamp and was hammering on the end of it. “What ya working on?”

  Paul looked up and grinned. “Hey, Phillipe. Just helping out a friend. One of those big winds knocked down the neighbor’s play structure and I’m straightening the post for them.”

  “I didn’t realize the neighbors had kids.”

  “Grandkids. They bought a cheap little play structure for when the grandkids came over, but of course that meant it wasn’t sturdy enough for that storm. They were going to toss it but it’s better to repair than replace. Care to give me a hand?”

  “What needs doing?”

  “My shoulder could do with a rest.” He handed Phillipe the hammer. “It’s not a thick metal, it should just unfold again. I’ll need to brace it, of course, because that spot’s going to be weak now.”

  “Wouldn’t it be easier to cut it and weld it?”

  “Say, now there’s an idea. My buddy has a welder. I bet he’d do it for a pizza, it’s such a smell weld.”

  “Got a torch? I should be able to cut it.”

  “Yeah, in the cabinet there.”

  Phillipe set the hammer down and dug through the cabinet until he came out with a blow torch. He grabbed the tinted safety glasses off the bench and got to work. It was thin metal, and the torch made short work of the cut. The pole hit the cement floor with an echoing clang and he shut the torch off.

  “Thanks. Should have thought of that.”

  “No problem.”

  “At least now I know to get a sturdier one when the time comes.”

  “When what time comes?”

  “When you get married and have kids of your own, of course. I can’t wait. It’ll be nice to have kids around the place again, even if it is just once in a while.”

  “Don’t get your hopes up,” Phillipe said.

  “Don’t sell yourself short. You’re a good man, good looking, strong, got a decent job. The right woman will come along and the next thing you know, kids, a mortgage, and football on the weekends.” He was grinning. “And Sunday dinner with your parents.”

  “Really, I don’t have many opportunities to meet the type of woman who wants to settle down.”

  “Have you considered a different job? Something with better hours.”

  “I like my job.”

  “Lots of stores hire security guards, don’t they? Would be practically the same. You’ll want a day job when you have kids anyway or you’ll never see them. I know, thes
e night shifts pay better …”

  “I’m not quitting my job,” he said, more forcefully this time. “And I’m not settling down or getting married or having kids any time soon.”

  His father huffed. “Fine. But don’t leave it too late. I would like to have some grandkids before I’m in a nursing home.”

  “You should have had more kids then,” Phillipe grumbled.

  “You know we tried. Don’t mention that to your mother. She doesn’t need the reminder.”

  “Yes, I know. Sorry.”

  He followed his father back into the house. They stopped at the back bathroom and washed their hands and then joined his mother, Ginette, in the kitchen. She had the table set and was putting out dishes of food: a roast smothered in fried onions, potatoes, salad, steamed vegetables, gravy, and buns.

  “Looks amazing, darling,” Paul said.

  “And you’re just in time. Have a seat. Let’s eat while it’s hot.”

  Phillipe took his regular spot and reached for the salad tongs. His father cleared his throat. Phillipe sighed and put his hands in his lap.

  “Why don’t you say grace, Paul?” Ginette said.

  Paul nodded. “Father, we thank you for this bountiful meal, so lovingly prepared. As we share this delicious food may we keep in our thoughts and our prayers those who have none, and so keep our hearts humble and grateful. Thank you for the company of our son, Phillipe. Watch over him and keep him safe and bring him back to your path, in your own time, for the glory of your name. Amen.”

  “Amen,” Ginette echoed.

  Phillipe reached for the salad again and began serving himself.

  “You’re looking well,” Ginette said. “You’re eating?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re not drinking too much?”

  “I almost never drink,” he said. “The odd beer when I’m visiting friends.”

  “I worry you know, with you working at that club. I’m sure there are more savory places you could work. Lots of stores hire security guards. It would be practically the same thing.”

  “That’s just what I said,” Paul said.

  “And you’ve both said it before,” Phillipe added. “I like my job, not just the work I do, but where I do it.” Honestly, he didn’t care. One store or club was going to be much the same as the next. Sure, there were a few places he wouldn’t work for, no matter the pay. He’d been warned by other staff at the club, and even by some patroons who had worked at other places, which locations were to be avoided because of unsavory or illegal business practices. The real reason he stayed on at the club was because he knew his parents would never try to visit him at work. If he was working security at the local grocery store he’d never get rid of them.

  “As long as you’re happy, we’re happy for you,” Paul said but his words couldn’t hide the fact that his wife was frowning. He put a hand over hers. “Aren’t we honey?”

  “Of course. This club is okay with you taking time off every month?”

  “Yes, they work around my schedule. It’s only one night, usually it lands during the week when the club is slow anyways.”

  “I guess that means you’re still spending time with that Remy, fellow.”

  “Yes Mom, I still see Remy once or twice a month. I have to. You know that.”

  “Seems strange to me, that’s all, that you’ll willingly spend time with someone who played such a large roll in tearing this family apart.”

  “Mom, Remy was eighteen when I moved out. It wasn’t him, it was his father, you know that. And they didn’t tear us apart, they were keeping me safe.”

  “We were keeping you safe,” she replied.

  Paul squeezed her hand again. “Pass the potatoes, please.”

  She smiled at him. “Of course, dear.” She turned back to her son. “We have a new pastor at church. A nice young man. Actually, I think he’s the youngest we’ve ever had.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Paul said. “They older we get the younger everyone else looks.”

  “No, he’s quite young. I think we’re his first church since he left college.”

  “Are you sure?” Paul said. “He’s so well-spoken.”

  “Oh, yes, he speaks so nicely, but I can tell he’s young. He has such forward opinions on things. I don’t know that he’ll last long. I know a lot of ladies in my Women’s Group on Thursdays are grumbling about him. No, I don’t think he’s a good fit.”

  “Give him time,” Paul said. “Besides, we are strongly rooted in our faith. We can weather a difficult preacher. But I think this man could bring many of our younger generation back to the church.”

  Phillipe sat quietly through the exchange. He didn’t like church anymore, hadn’t since he was twelve.

  “You should come meet him,” Paul said.

  And there it was. Phillipe smiled. “I usually work Saturday night, it’s one of our busiest nights. I’m always so tired Sunday morning, I sleep until mid-afternoon.”

  “You could come here one Sunday for dinner. We could invite him as well. Really, I think you would like him.”

  “I’ll think about it, okay Dad?” He wouldn’t. He didn’t want to meet this preacher or any others, especially not from his parents’ church. His parents wouldn’t drop it if he continued to say no. Easier to say no over the phone later.

  “So how are you doing?” Ginette said. “You didn’t answer the phone last time I called.”

  “I’m doing fine,” Phillipe said. “Michael’s needed some shifts off because of family stuff so I’ve been twice as busy with work. Had dinner with Katherine and Christopher the other day.” The words slipped out so easily but the second he heard them he regretted them.

  Paul frowned, and Ginette sat up a little straighter. “You still see them?” Ginette asked.

  “I still spend a lot of time with Patrick, so yeah, I still see his parents. They invited me for dinner. I didn’t want to be rude.”

  “I just don’t understand how you could eat at their table, considering what they are, what they’ve done to our family.”

  “Mom, I know what they are. And I know what I am. I’m more like them than you.”

  “Don’t say that,” she said. “You’re our son.”

  “Mom, I’m a werebear. You can’t change that. I was born this way.”

  “We could have saved you, could have stopped this curse, but those awful people interfered, handed you over to that clan and they turned you against us. You were such a good boy, even with this curse, and they…”

  “They saved my life, Mom.”

  “We were trying to save your life! And your soul!”

  Phillipe set his fork down and pushed away from the table.

  “Where are you going?” Her voice was heavy with emotion.

  “I’m going home.”

  “You haven’t finished your dinner.”

  “It was a mistake to come.”

  Paul stood. “Your mother worked hard on this meal. I didn’t raise you to be disrespectful.”

  “No, you raised me to be afraid of myself, to hate what I was. I’m not cursed, I’m not possessed, I don’t need saving or redemption or a fucking exorcism. You don’t put a bear in a three-foot square cage unless you want an angry bear, one that will stop at nothing to get out. And an angry bear is a dangerous bear. Christopher saved my life. So did Remy and his parents. And they probably saved yours as well. I’m not a monster, no matter what you and your church of closed-minded bigots think. No amount of praying is going to change me.”

  They were staring at him. Never had he spoken to them like this.

  “I’m going home. Don’t bother calling me. And no, I won’t be back next month.”

  Chapter 5

  After rushing home from the university to change and then rushing to the pack hall for the meeting, Brigid was glad to just sit back and enjoy all the food that came with full moons at the pack hall. By the time they had to clean up, she was feeling relaxed and reconnected again. Victor
and Julie helped her clear tables and then they headed off to see a movie, without kids this time. It was someone else’s turn to babysit this month.

  She was making a last pass around the tables when she overheard a fifteen-year-old girl talking to her mother.

  “I just want to go home with you tonight. I don’t want to stay.”

  “Hun, you know you have to stay here with your dad. It’s the full moon. You’re going to shift. I thought we were past this. You’ve been shifting for two years now. What’s going on?”

  “I just don’t want to be here tonight, okay? Please?”

  Brigid walked over, smiling. “Hey, you’re Miranda, right?”

  The girl nodded.

  “I think you and I crossed paths last month, over by the nappers.”

  She nodded again, her eyes wide with worry.

  “I was hoping to find you. Did you want to come with me and my sister tonight?”

  “You’re staying here to shift?” Miranda’s mother asked.

  “Oh yes. And Miranda can stay with us all evening. Some months are harder than others. Sometimes it’s nice to have someone you know you can stick close to. My name is Brigid by the way. And my sister is Michelle.”

  “You’re an O’Leary, right?”

  Brigid nodded.

  “My husband knows your father.”

  “I’m not surprised. What do you say, Miranda? I’ll stay with you all night.”

  Miranda nodded, but the fear still hovered in her eyes.

  Her mom smiled. “Thank you. Okay, I’ll see you back at home in the morning.” She kissed Mirandas forehead, gathered her purse, and headed out.

  When they were as alone as they were going to be, Brigid dropped her smile. “So, how long have those wolves been bothering you?”

  “A few months.”

  “Did you tell anyone?”

  She shrugged. “My parents said that’s what wolves do, they chase each other, they play. But this doesn’t feel like playing.”

  “I don’t think it is. Come on, we’ll go find Michelle. She’ll stay with us. They won’t bother you if you’re with some older wolves.”