Best New Werewolf Tales (Vol. 1)

by Wilson, David Niall; Lamio, Michael; Newman, James; Maberry, Jonathan; Everson, John; Daley, James Roy

  “Yeah, you should have.”

  “I just thought you threw it away by mistake. That’s all.”

  “Jonah, don’t sweat it. I know you’re gay for mail.”

  Jonah flinched at the timeless accusation. “I am not.”

  “Sure you are. You’re the only man I know that has a box of junk mail under his bed instead of porn.”

  “I do not!” Jonah shouted, though under his bed rested a shoebox of thank you cards, old valentines from his mom, and unusual ads. He just didn’t know Dale knew. “And for the record, the content of that box is private.”

  “Sure it is. If private is another word for gay.”

  “I’m not gay!”

  Dale’s smile beamed like a florescent bulb in his joy at getting under Jonah’s skin. “I never said you were gay. I said you’re gay for mail.”

  “I am not.”

  “Not what?”

  “You know what.”

  “Gay for mail?”

  Jonah sucked a quick breath between his teeth. “I wish you wouldn’t say that.”

  “What? Gay for mail?” Dale continued to smile, wide and annoying.

  “Give it a rest.”

  Dale did just that, but not without chuckling under his breath first. Jonah tried to drive in unperturbed silence, but soon his mind wandered to the echo of that chuckle. It seemed as if the man insisted on questioning Jonah’s sexuality. Not that either of them particularly hated homosexuals, but it seemed as if it were Dale’s life’s work to prove Jonah was not interested in women. Contrary to popular opinion, Jonah was very interested in women. The fact that he didn’t bed every woman he met didn’t mean he didn’t want to. He was just shyer than Dale.

  And not as handsome.

  And not as confident.

  Jonah decided to turn the conversation to a very Dale-like topic in order to prove that his own testosterone-fueled fantasies did indeed exist. “So Barbara dropped by?”

  Dale grinned again as he nodded. “She sure did.”

  “I must have been asleep by then. I didn’t even hear her come in.”

  “I heard her come. Several times.”

  Jonah gripped the wheel harder, his knuckles fading from pink to white as he dreaded the next question and the answers that surely followed. “Okay, what happened?”

  The next twenty miles were spent in lurid description as Dale outlined the acrobatic feats that made up his typical sexual escapade. Jonah was left to wonder where all the extra limbs wound up. Dale never clarified, and Jonah never asked.

  This was the way of things.

  Chapter Two

  Winnemucca, Nevada

  “You’re such a nerd,” Dale snorted.

  “Why?” Jonah asked. “Because I pay my bills on time or because I don’t fart in the presence of others?”

  “Like you know how to fart. You’re too much of a tight-ass to let one rip.”

  “Ha ha.”

  “I mean, look at this thing.” Dale tapped on the yellowing pages spread on the table between them. Half-empty plates and half-full cups covered the edges of the thick book, holding down the well-worn pages that tried their best to curl. “What kind of asshole uses a road map these days?”

  Jonah shrugged, embarrassed by Dale’s poor conversational skills. “I like them. They make traveling fun.” Which, while accurate, was not the whole of the truth. Jonah liked maps for the same reason he liked mail. A map was tangible proof of the world beyond his door. With a map, he had evidence of places besides the three blocks around his apartment. With a map, Jonah had a printed reflection of the world. Or, in the case of this particular set of maps, the United States. “And just how did you expect to find Reno without a map?”

  “Google it, like a normal person.”

  Jonah snorted. “That’s funny. You and normal in the same sentence.”

  “At least I didn’t leave a perfectly good GPS at home.”

  “A GPS makes it too easy. I like using a map.” Jonah bristled at Dale’s demeaning look for a moment, then added, “And for your information, it’s not just a map. It’s a road trip book. It has extra stuff about where you are and why. See?”

  Dale’s flat expression revealed just how impressed he was. “Which makes you a nerd.”

  Trying his best to shift the subject away from his obvious nerdiness, Jonah asked, “You sure you wanna go to Vegas when we’re done?”

  “Yup.”

  “Again?”

  “What’s wrong with Vegas?”

  Jonah wrinkled his nose. Three years ago, on one bright spring morning, the pair of them embarked on what became the first of many road trips. They could have gone to so many places over those years. Seen so many things. But, at Dale’s insistence, each and every journey led to the same place. Las Vegas. Jonah had hoped that this jaunt to Reno would encourage Dale to try new things, but no. It was Vegas. Again.

  “Vegas is so boring,” Jonah moaned as he drew lazy circles on the map with his fingertips.

  “No, Reno is boring. God only knows why we have to go there first.”

  “Because that’s where we’re booked to play.”

  “Boring,” Dale whined, mimicking Jonah’s falsetto. “Reno’s for old people.”

  Jonah cut a sideways glance at the man. “Dale, may I remind you that you’re the one who got us the job?”

  “Ugh. No, you may not remind me.”

  “Then why did you get us a job there?”

  Dale shrugged the question off.

  “I think Reno will be fun,” Jonah said. “At least it’s different.”

  Dale shrugged again. “Whatever.”

  “Don’t you want to see someplace new?”

  “I said whatever.”

  Narrowing his eyes, Jonah fancied he spied an opportunity for mockery. “You’re afraid of new things.”

  “No I’m not.” But there was a hesitation in his voice that suggested otherwise.

  Jonah grinned, wondering what that hesitation was all about. “Then prove it. Pick somewhere other than Vegas, and after Reno, we will head that way. We might even pick up another gig on the way.”

  “Wherever you want to go. I don’t care.” Dale slurped on his shake again before turning to attack his bowl of chili.

  The diner was small, but cozy, and the food was pretty good. It also had a giant donut on the roof, which was what attracted the guys to it in the first place. Jonah liked these little roadside attractions while Dale claimed they were the warts of America.

  “Come on,” Jonah said, around a mouthful of fries. “Consider this your trip, buddy. For getting us our first out-of-state job.” He pushed the road map toward Dale. “You pick.”

  Dale shoved the map back to Jonah. “No way. You stick your nose up at every suggestion I make.”

  “I do not! I just don’t want to go back to Vegas.”

  “Okay then.” As if to prove his point, Dale, with a wide smile and smug attitude, announced a destination that should have come as no surprise. “The Chicken Ranch.”

  Jonah almost choked on his mouthful. After swallowing the errant fries, he whispered, “Keep your voice down.”

  “Why? It’s an American icon. Who don’t like chickens? Come on, Jonah. Let’s go! We’re halfway there anyway.”

  Jonah kept his voice low as he argued, “I am not driving out to the deserts of Nevada just so you can legally hire a prostitute.”

  “See? You don’t like any of my ideas.”

  “It’s not the idea, it’s the point. The whole thing is a gigantic waste of money.”

  “Only you would think sex was a waste of money.”

  “I meant it’s not like you can’t get a piece anytime you want.”

  “Yeah, but this is different.”

  “You’ve had more women slip between your sheets than I have ever had the nerve to say hello to. How can a hired woman be any different than a free one?”

  Dale smirked the smirk of the experienced. “Trust me, dude, none of them ar
e free. You end up paying somehow.”

  “I’d never pay for it,” Jonah said, though in reality he might if given the chance, and if someone else made the arrangements. It wasn’t the nature of prostitution that made Jonah nervous: it was the actual transaction. He could hardly order a coffee from the local barista, how on earth could he manage to tell a woman he wanted to pay her to suck his cock?

  “You always pay,” Dale said, then mumbled into his straw, “Especially when your pecker falls off.”

  “Dale!”

  Dale laughed long and loud. “God, Jonah, you are the prudest asshole I have ever known.”

  “Most prude,” Jonah corrected him.

  “You need to get used to not being most prude, man. ‘Cause chicks dig famous musicians.”

  “I doubt we’re on our way to being famous. Infamous is more like it.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Not today. Thank you very much. Now pick a place or I’ll take you to Disneyland.”

  Dale snapped his gaze up from his bowl of chili to stare hard at Jonah. “What?”

  Jonah smiled his own knowing smile. “Sure. Disneyland. It will be an all-expense-paid educational journey.”

  Dale went paler at every word, and Jonah relished the look of terror on the man’s face. What a delight! It wasn’t often Jonah got one over on Dale, and just the threat of experiencing something educational turned the man’s knees to water. Dale’s lip even quivered, just a little. It was a beautiful thing to behold.

  “You aren’t serious,” Dale said.

  “I’m perfectly serious,” Jonah lied. He nodded down at the map, tracing the highways and byways as he added, “Look, we’re less than two hours away from California.”

  “No way. No California. You know how I feel about that place.”

  Jonah knew. He never quite understood, but he knew. Dale was a Californian native, but now avoided the place like it was the plague, and not even his best friend was sure why. Jonah, however, would not be swayed from his hold over the frightened man. He tossed the remains of his burger on the plate and placed a greasy hand over his chest. “I’ve never gotten a chance to see Disneyland, and it has always been my dream to go. I know we always stay away from California because you didn’t like living there and don’t want to go back, but I think just this once—”

  “Can’t go back,” Dale interjected.

  “What?”

  “I didn’t say anything about not liking it. I loved California. I just can’t go back.”

  “What do you mean you can’t go back?” Before Dale answered, Jonah had an idea of what the man meant. “What did you do?”

  “Nothing!” But Dale’s brooding look said otherwise.

  While the pair had been friends for over fifteen years, each had his pre-friendship life. That magic and mysterious time before time, when Jonah was friendless in Idaho and Dale was… somewhere else. Information on Dale’s Californian years was hard to obtain and even harder to confirm. Yet, based on personal experience with Dale, Jonah supposed he could sketch a plausible history steeped in youthful shenanigans and a juvenile rap sheet as long as his arm.

  Watching Dale squirm, Jonah asked, “What in the hell did you do that got you banned from a whole state?”

  Dale snorted, rolled his eyes and tossed his spoon into his chili.

  Jonah had the sinking feeling that that was all the response he was going to get on the matter. He opted for a softer approach. “Come on, big guy. You can tell me. I know you don’t like to talk about California, but it might make you feel better. I can keep a secret.”

  “It’s not a secret,” Dale said. “It’s just… it’s sort of embarrassing.”

  It took everything Jonah had not to drool. In the grand scheme of things, an embarrassing story beat a secret any day. “Come on. You know plenty of embarrassing things about me.” Which was true. “And you know a lot of my secrets.” Also true. “I trust you like I trust my own flesh and blood.” Not true. “I promise I won’t tell a soul.” Anything but true. “’Fess up. What did you do?”

  Dale pursed his lips a moment. He then opened his mouth, on the verge of confession, but before uttering a syllable, he narrowed his eyes and closed his mouth again. A quick shake of the head signaled his final answer on the matter.

  Jonah switched gears, from worry to whine. “Aww, come on. I tell you stuff all the time. You know everything about me. What’s so bad you can’t tell your best friend?”

  “First of all,” Dale said, “I never ask you to tell me anything; you just seem to think everyone wants to know your very boring life story. And secondly, I won’t tell you because you’re my best friend.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means I don’t want to burden you with it.”

  The only thing that kept Jonah from laughing aloud at this was the pure sincerity in Dale’s voice. The man was never serious about anything. This earnest attempt at benevolence had the opposite effect on Jonah. Now he really had to know. “But that’s what I’m here for—”

  “Not this time,” Dale said over his plea. “Not this, Jonah. No one else needs to worry about this.”

  “Dale—”

  “Man, just let it go, already!”

  The entire restaurant fell quiet in the echo of Dale’s outburst. Jonah grew acutely aware of the pressure of many eyes upon his person, as everyone in the place looked their way. But the men ignored the crowd, and each other. Slowly, the restaurant filled with hushed whispers about the argument. A waitress came to refill Jonah’s coffee without uttering a word. She didn’t have to. Her sideways glance and tight-lipped grin said everything she didn’t.

  At length, Dale cleared his throat. “I left a lot of demons behind in Cali, okay? Demons I don’t want to face again.” His voice dropped to a near whisper as he added, “Demons I can’t face again.”

  Jonah opened his mouth to ask why, but before he could, Dale cut him off.

  “Don’t ask why,” Dale said. His eyes glistened with moisture that couldn’t be tears, because everyone knew Dale Jenkins never cried. Did he? “I can’t go back, Jonah. Just leave it at that. Please.”

  “Oh,” Jonah said, because that was all he could really think to say. Between the two of them, Dale was supposed to be the strong one. The powerful one. The ‘fuck ‘em if they can’t take a joke’ one. Yet here, at this moment in time, in this donut-topped wart on America’s ass, Dale was all at once stripped bare of his titles, bare of his defenses, bare of his machismo. This was a new side Jonah had never seen before. The effect was chilling. “Okay, buddy. I won’t bother you about it anymore.”

  “Promise?”

  “Yeah.” But he knew it was a lie the moment he said it.

  “Thanks.”

  “I mean, I think you would feel a lot better if you just talk it out—”

  “Jonah,” Dale said, then heaved a tired sigh.

  “Can I just ask one thing and I promise I’ll let it go?”

  “I said I’m not talking about California anymore.”

  “No, I don’t want to know about that.” But in truth, he did. “I just wondered why you booked us a job in Reno if you can never return to California. Isn’t that a little close to the state line?”

  Dale rubbed the back of his neck as he looked away, a classic sign of embarrassment for the man.

  “Well?” Jonah asked.

  “Well,” Dale started. “I kinda thought it was Vegas when I answered the ad. They said we were playing a casino. I just assumed.”

  “Only Dale Jenkins would assume that all casinos lead to Vegas.” Jonah smiled at his friend’s unease. Something about seeing Dale squirm always made him smirk. “I guess that also explains why we are driving two hundred miles instead of playing someplace local.”

  “No, we are driving two hundred miles because everyone within a hundred miles has heard us already.” Dale broke into rowdy laughter at his own joke.

  Jonah joined Dale’s laughter, knowing that in some respe
cts, the joke was funny because it was oh so true. While each on his own proved to be an able musician, the pair of them never seemed to get it together as a band. Or a duo. Jonah preferred soft rock and folk music as opposed to Dale’s obsession with hard rock and speed metal. Their united sound was tantamount to a caterwauling ballad sung by a donkey with his genitalia trapped in a vice. Jonah was surprised when Dale announced that he had suckered a place—aside from the local bar—into letting them play at all, and then immediately felt sorry for the folks who might make the mistake of attending their performance.

  “Okay, then,” Jonah said, after their laughter wound down. “Let’s get back to the question of where we’re headed after Reno. And before you start, the answer is still no to the chickens.”

  “A little fowl action might do you some good.”

  Jonah groaned as he got to his feet. “Don’t start with the puns. I don’t think my indigestion can take it.”

  “Then don’t egg me on.”

  “Cut it out, Dale.”

  “Vegas?”

  Putting away his book, as well as his dreams of visiting new and exciting places, Jonah gave another dejected sigh, then agreed. “Vegas.”

  “Good. I’ve gotta take a leak. Don’t leave without me.” Dale stood and headed to the bathroom, leaving Jonah to deal with the bill, as usual.

  Jonah tucked the book under his arm as he watched Dale retreat from responsibility yet again. This was the Dale he knew, the real Dale. Jonah tried to forget about the whole thing, but something had happened during that conversation, something Jonah had never experienced in all the years he had known Dale. It wasn’t just the level of discomfort that his friend showed, or his unwillingness to talk about his past. It was something deeper. Something primal. A spark flashed in Jonah’s very soul, a spark that leapt to a flame, which smoldered into a slow burn of worry.

  “What’s with your friend?” the cashier asked.

  Jonah looked away from the woman and shrugged.

  “What’s he got against California?” she asked. “I grew up there.”

  Jonah sighed. He disliked it when employees tried to hold personal conversations with him. Well, he disliked it when anyone tried to talk to him, especially women. “He did, too. He just doesn’t want to go back.”