Hot and Badgered

by Shelly Laurenston

  Carrie suddenly darted into a bakery.

  “She’s binge eating!” Max announced as they stood across the street watching the store.

  “What is your obsession with eating disorders?” Stevie asked. “Maybe she just wanted a bagel.”

  “It’s a French bakery,” Dutch felt the need to point out. “I doubt they have bagels.” When Stevie faced him, he added, “Maybe she wanted a croissant?”

  “Stop talking,” Stevie said before she noticed that Carrie had come out the side door of the bakery and into the alley. And she wasn’t alone.

  The traffic had stopped, waiting for the light to change, so Stevie ran across the street after Max.

  They went down the block on the right side of the bakery, going until they reached another alley entrance. Stevie followed right behind Max, only stopping when she ran into Max’s back. Her sister didn’t even budge, intent on peeking around the wall to watch what Carrie was up to.

  Not wanting to risk touching the dirty alley floor, Stevie climbed up Max’s back until she could look over her head and watch Carrie too.

  Max leaned her head back to look at her. “Seriously?”

  “Shhh.”

  Stevie cocked her head in an attempt to hear what the couple was saying. The man towering over Carrie was big. Not full-human big either, unless her cousin had decided to start hooking up with NBA players.

  “What is he?” Stevie whispered.

  “Polar, I think,” Max whispered back.

  The couple was whispering to each other—which made understanding what they were saying nearly impossible—and Carrie began crying at some point, which Stevie could tell shocked Max to her very honey badger core.

  But weddings were stressful events. Right up there with funerals and divorce, so Stevie was willing to give her cousin the benefit of the doubt. And, if you added in that she was clearly in love with someone besides her fiancé . . .

  Well, yeah. That had to be stressful, too.

  Then, things changed a little . . . and the making out started. It was like they were trying to swallow each other whole. But, after a few minutes, Carrie pulled away and rushed from the alley, forcing Stevie and Max to dive behind a Dumpster before their cousin could see them.

  Once she was gone, Max used her phone to take a picture of their cousin’s boyfriend before they made a quick escape as well.

  “What do you think?” Stevie asked Max as they followed Carrie back to the hotel.

  “I think she should stick with shorter guys. He was way too big for her. Watching them kiss was just . . . weird.”

  “That’s all you have to say?”

  “Yeah,” Max replied, glancing at her as they walked. “Why?”

  * * *

  Berg opened the door and waited for Charlie to finish shaking the hands of everyone in the room, say her good-byes, and walk out. He followed, Britta and Dag bringing up the rear.

  In silence, they made their way back to the elevator, waited for the doors to open, and got in. They went down all those floors to the parking structure. When the doors opened, Charlie stepped out first and they all followed. They reached his SUV and got in. He started it, then drove back onto the street.

  Berg drove for about five minutes before he pulled over in a tow zone and stopped.

  Staring straight ahead, he asked, “What the fuck just happened?”

  Britta, who was now sitting in the front passenger seat, said, “A hybrid honey badger got three groups that detest working together to actually work together in order to find the person who has been trying to kidnap Stevie and shut him down.”

  Berg slowly nodded. “Yeah. That’s what I thought happened.” He glanced back at Charlie. She was again texting. “And how, exactly, did you do that?”

  Charlie looked up, realized he was talking to her, and went back to texting while answering his question. “I didn’t let it turn into a pit fight.” When no one spoke, Charlie lowered her phone and explained, “If you let it turn into a pit fight, then it becomes all about winning. So you don’t let it turn into a pit fight.”

  “We still don’t know what that means,” Britta pushed.

  “Okay, I’ll give you an example. When I was meeting with my aunt earlier, she brought up the fact that Max almost didn’t walk for her graduation for beating up this girl. Most of the family believes Max just beat her up, you know . . . because. She is honey badger after all. But trust me, this chick had it coming. For years, since junior high, this girl kept picking on Max. She was the perfect cheerleader type. Looked really sweet, was really a bitch. And she hated Max. She made fun of her all the time, saying Max has shoulders like a man; she walks like a truck driver. And if the cheerleader got some beer in her, the ho became racist. Max and I were only one grade apart, so when I was in school, I managed to keep the pit fight from happening.”

  “How?”

  “I already knew Max could destroy her, so I focused on Max rather than the drunk cheerleader. I simply reminded her that we didn’t care what that girl said, that it didn’t matter what that girl believed, that our only concern was protecting Stevie.

  “And that worked . . . until I graduated. Stevie was already in college working on her masters. And that left Max alone with the cheerleader and her friends for an entire school year. Max held out, though, for longer than we thought she would. But about a week from graduating . . . pit fight. Why? Because none of the teachers or the administrators knew how to stop a pit fight before it starts. And once it starts . . . you end up with a bleeding, babbling cheerleader with no front teeth.”

  Britta cringed. She sometimes had nightmares about losing her front teeth.

  “But then how did you get Max to still walk at graduation?” Dag suddenly asked.

  “Oh, I knew the little bitch was going to be a serious problem and I knew that I’d graduate before Max, so I started keeping a file on the cheerleader. Basically, a dossier. I had enough information to bury her, and I made it clear to her extremely indulgent parents that if they didn’t back me with the principal, her daughter could only use that early acceptance from Dartmouth to wipe her ass.”

  There was silence except for Charlie tapping away on her phone. Then, finally, Britta asked, “How old were you when you started keeping that dossier?”

  “I guess I was about fourteen. Why?”

  “Just wondering,” Britta replied. She stared out the window and muttered again, “Juuuuust wondering.”

  * * *

  Charlie met with her sisters back at the hotel. Britta and Dag had headed to Queens by then, but Berg had offered to come with her. She felt bad, though. He shouldn’t have to be around the ridiculousness that was her cousin’s wedding.

  She found her sisters in some weird little coffeehouse built into the lower floors of the Kingston Arms. She didn’t understand why her sisters were there until she realized that this particular coffeehouse was all about honey. It wasn’t bear owned, though. It was honey badger owned.

  And the honey badger was ridiculously unpleasant . . . Max loved it.

  A large paper cup of coffee was slammed down in front of Charlie and a plate with several honey buns was thrown in front of a startled Berg.

  He roared when the plate hit the table, and Charlie didn’t blame him one bit.

  The badger sneered and walked back to his counter.

  Grinning, Max asked, “Isn’t this place great?”

  “No!” they all replied.

  “You haven’t even tried the coffee.”

  Charlie stared at the innocent-looking cup. “He probably spit in it.”

  “I was watching him. Trust me. Try it.”

  She did. And as much as it irritated her to admit it, the coffee was fantastic.

  “Try the honey bun,” she pushed Berg.

  He picked up the bun, sniffed it, studied it closely, sniffed it again—

  “Oh, my God!” Max exploded. “Just eat it!”

  Lip curling, Berg took a bite. He chewed, swallowed. Grud
gingly smiled.

  “Told ya.”

  “Could you stop being smug,” Charlie asked, “and just tell me what’s going on so I can get out of here?”

  “We think she has a boyfriend,” Max said before biting into a giant lemon–poppy seed–honey muffin.

  “The bride?” Berg asked, already on his third bun.

  “It’s gonna be messy,” Stevie sighed.

  “Her mother is going to flip out.”

  “If she doesn’t love her fiancé,” Berg asked, “then why is she marrying him?”

  “Apparently he’s a very rich full-human.”

  “We think he’s a polar bear,” Stevie said. “The boyfriend.”

  “She’s screwing around with a polar bear when she’s about to marry a full-human?” Berg frowned and glanced at Charlie. “You understand he could tear that man’s legs off and do a little puppet dance with them, right?”

  “Maybe you know him,” Max said, pulling out her phone to show him the photo she’d taken.

  “I don’t know every bear, you know. So I’m not sure I can . . . This is your cousin’s boyfriend?” Berg abruptly asked. “Him?”

  Charlie cringed. “He’s that bad?”

  “He’s definitely a problem.” He motioned Max’s phone away. “His name is Damian Miller. He owns a jewelry store on Forty-seventh Street, but his whole family is in the diamond business. And you don’t get into the diamond business because you’re a soft, friendly guy. His family has been in the industry since before the Russians sold Alaska to the States.”

  “Well, now we know what she sees in a man that’s seven feet tall,” Max remarked, dropping her phone on the table. “He’s rich and probably buys her jewelry.”

  “He can still be a problem for your cousin,” Berg said. “If he’s territorial . . .”

  “Why would he bother, though?” Max asked. “He’s a rich jewelry guy who could probably get any woman. Why care about one honey badger? Enough, I mean, to want to ruin her wedding?”

  Berg shrugged. “Because he’s a bear. And he can.”

  “Then we should plan for the possibility that he’ll make an appearance just to cause problems,” Charlie said. “And we have to keep him out.”

  “Keep out a polar bear that wants in?” Berg nodded. “Good luck with that.”

  “This is bad.” Charlie admitted. “But I’m not dealing with it right now. I’ll talk to Bernice tomorrow.” Charlie took another sip of her coffee before asking Berg, “Are you still up for tonight?”

  “Are you?’

  “I am if you are.”

  “But you want to go, right?”

  “Yeah . . . if you do.”

  “Oh, my God!” Max suddenly barked. “You two are annoying the hell out of me.”

  “Shut up,” Charlie snapped at her sister.

  “You shut up.”

  Before Charlie could get into it with her sister—she was in the mood to get into it with her sister—Dutch suddenly ran into the coffeehouse and over to their table.

  “Hi!”

  Berg growled a little and looked away. He was clearly not a fan of wolverines. Or, at least, not this wolverine, which she was fine with.

  Dutch crouched next to her chair.

  “I still hate you,” she told him. “So why are you bothering me?”

  “I know you guys have had a long day, so I got you into the hottest steakhouse in Manhattan and it’s right upstairs. Top floor of this hotel. People wait months to get in and I got you a great table.”

  “Ooooh,” Charlie mocked. “You got us into a fancy restaurant. How exciting.”

  Berg leaned over and said low, “Uh . . . actually it is a good restaurant. Shifter owned and run. They just opened in the last few months, but they’re already booked through the first of the year.”

  “So you’re saying you want to go?”

  “I wouldn’t mind. Besides, if we leave now, we’ll just be caught in traffic on the way back to Queens.”

  While Charlie pretended to debate the idea of taking Dutch up on his offer, Dutch began to beg.

  “Please, Charlie! Please let me love you!”

  It was so ridiculous that Charlie had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop from laughing.

  The wolverine was so ridiculous.

  “I don’t want your love, idiot,” she said when she could finally talk without laughing. “I will never forgive you.”

  “But I will give my life trying to make it up to you. My life. My soul. My underwear.”

  All Charlie could do was roll her eyes, but her sisters were laughing hysterically. Always so amused by their idiot friend.

  Unlike Berg. He just motioned to the rude coffeehouse owner for more honey buns, his brown eyes glaring at the wolverine.

  Dutch sat in a chair and grinned. “Charlie, let me plan your evening of love.”

  “Ew.”

  “I’ll arrange everything. For both of you.” He smiled at Berg and the bear’s giant claw suddenly slashed at the wolverine’s face, forcing Dutch to scramble back, falling out of his chair and landing on his ass. It wasn’t a vicious attack. Just a bear-swipe of annoyance.

  For the first time, they heard the coffeehouse owner chuckle before tossing another plate of honey buns in front of Berg.

  “We’ll take care of it,” Max promised while she dragged Dutch off the floor by his hair.

  “That’s really not necessary,” Berg argued.

  But Charlie wasn’t so quick to dismiss. “No. Let him do something right for once. You. Weasel. Go ahead. Do it. Create our night of love.”

  “Come on,” Berg begged. “You’re making me nauseous.”

  “But keep in mind,” Charlie went on. “I won’t forgive you. I’ll still hate you. I will always hate you.”

  “There’s a fine line between love and hate.”

  “Not for me.”

  Max pulled her friend toward the exit. “Give us twenty minutes.”

  Once they were gone, Berg asked, “Why do you put up with him?”

  “Max likes him. She doesn’t like a lot of people.”

  “Huh.”

  That was all he said. And yet Stevie slammed her hand down on the table, stood, grabbed her notebooks, her bag, and her cup of coffee, and went across the small room to another table, where she made herself at home. Alone.

  Berg cringed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to upset her.”

  “I don’t think you really did. She just wanted an excuse to leave.” She glanced at her sister and smiled a little. “So she could work.”

  Another plate of honey buns along with some cinnamon rolls landed on the table in front of them, causing both Charlie and Berg to jump a little. The badger bared a fang before going back to his counter.

  Charlie nodded at Berg’s confusion. “He likes us,” she insisted.

  “I wouldn’t want to see how he treats people he hates.”

  chapter TWENTY-TWO

  Berg and Charlie hung out at the Rude Coffeehouse—as they now called it—until Max returned without Dutch and led them to an elevator that went express to the top floor of the hotel.

  As the elevator moved, Charlie reminded her sister, “Don’t forget to grab Stevie before you leave. Otherwise, she’ll be sitting in that coffee shop all night. You know how she gets when she starts working.”

  “Stop worrying. I’m on it.”

  “And we have to check in with Bernice tomorrow. Give her a heads-up about what Carrie’s up to.”

  “Okay.”

  “But don’t tell her anything tonight. I’ll deal with it.”

  “Okay.”

  “And have you heard again from Will?”

  “Oh, my God!” Max exploded yet again. “Would you just fucking relax!”

  “Well, no need to yell at me.”

  “This is why you’re going to get an ulcer.”

  The doors opened and they stepped into a large restaurant. A classy restaurant. All Charlie could see were designer dresses, designer bags, a
nd expensive jewelry.

  She immediately looked down at what she wore. “Dude, we can’t eat here.”

  “Calm down.”

  “I look like I just rolled up from a pickup basketball game at a local park.”

  Max hissed at Charlie through her teeth, one hand slashing through the air. Usually that was Charlie’s move when she wanted Max to stop harassing someone.

  Mortified, Charlie followed her sister through the thick crowd of people. Berg walked behind them. The entire place was packed. Every table filled. And mostly filled with shifters. Big tables in the middle of the room had whole wolf packs and lion prides. The groups roaring and snarling at their enemies as they ate.

  A hostess smiled at Max when she pushed her way through the other shifters waiting to be seated.

  “All set?” the woman asked.

  “Yes. Here they are.”

  The woman grabbed two menus and a wine list. She motioned to them with a wave of her hand and started off. But Charlie couldn’t get her feet to work. She had on a pair of her Converse sneakers. Bright purple! Jeans. A T-shirt with “I don’t hear Mansplainin’” written on it. And tucked under that T-shirt . . . a Glock 9mm.

  Not exactly a fancy-eatin’ outfit.

  Max pushed her from behind when Charlie didn’t move. She was about to punch her sister, but Berg grabbed her hand and together they followed the hostess. She cut through the restaurant and Charlie assumed she was taking them to a table near the kitchen. Buried deep in the back. But they went past the kitchen, the soda machines, the bar, and kept on until they were going down a long hallway.

  The hostess stopped in front of a door and opened it, gesturing with a sweep of her arm.

  Charlie went in first and realized it was a private dining room.

  An intimate space with a table already set for two people and wingback leather chairs. Big windows looked out over Manhattan, and the wood paneling made the room feel warm and intimate.

  Berg came in after her. “This is awesome.”

  They sat down at the table and the hostess handed each of them a menu; a waiter stood beside her.

  “This is Carl, your waiter for the evening. And Mr. Alexander wanted me to tell you both that tonight’s meal is on him. Choose whatever you like from the menu and enjoy your evening.”