The Unicorn's Dearest Omega

by Marilyn Black

  Though I was optimistic about it, I also knew the alternative situation. If the wolves knew that they weren't going to be able to take Tommy back without a fight with the Paulsons, then they had no reason to keep Tommy alive in the case that they did manage to grab him.

  Tommy himself said, "You know how the Grover wolves act. Jonny won't think we broke up at all unless he himself gives me permission."

  I pulled him in and held him tight. Every word that came out of his mouth filled me with indignation and a sense of tragedy, and the thought of such a gorgeous man suffering at the hands of someone so cruel was almost too much and I nearly shifted right there. If I did shift, my reason would've been shot and I might've taken drastic measures. But the big damn reason why I hadn't done anything, besides only learning about Tommy's predicament in the last 24 hours, was because I didn't want to draw Jonathan's attention if he didn't already know where we were. By that point, I was with Tommy-- the longer we could go with our heads in the sand, the better. But the tide was definitely coming soon and if we didn't face reality, we would drown in fantasy.

  Tommy was fine with his head in sand. He whipped up a pumpkin spice latte, and it was the best thing I'd ever smelled. Though I had a pumpkin spice recipe to make, few ever asked for it and it was probably the least requested thing on the menu. But the first time that Tommy made his pumpkin spice cup, it seemed like the entire town descended upon my little shop just for a taste.

  Perhaps literally. He gave the drink to the customer that requested it, and within three hours we had already sold it eight more times.

  Scott even asked at one point, "Is everyone here in on something?" It just wasn't normal for a particular recipe to become so instantly popular.

  "No, no, I think it's just a really good flavor," Tommy said with a beaming smile. He walked to a customer, swaying his hips side to side like a professional, and I was amazed at his skill at doing his. But strangely enough, what really got me was how well he was taking all of this. When I was so sure that he was going to need time to recover from the stresses of his old life, he proved me wrong by being a happy and diligent worker, and on some level, it actually creeped me out. But when I rang up a sale to an old regular, he looked at the boy just once and said to me, "That kid is definitely happy to be here. I can see it in the way he moves."

  I looked to Tommy myself and said, "Yeah. It's a complicated situation."

  He chuckled once. "But you can't deny that he's happy. I've seen so many Omegas in my life..."

  Then he took his cup and sat, and I thought about his words. What if he was right? What if Tommy was only so happy because he was forcing himself to be happy? It made me feel worse, yes, but at the same time, I wanted Tommy to be happy. And anything that gave him satisfaction on even a small level deserved to be promoted further.

  As it happened, Artemis wasn't even in town that day so rather than wasting our time, we stayed back during our lunch break and I managed to get Tommy caught up with Scott.

  The unicorn munched on a blueberry muffin-- which I was sure he snatched earlier in the day but never got around to eating-- and said to Tommy, "What does Jonathan look like specifically? Just so we know who to look out for."

  He sipped some of his pumpkin spice, and said, "If I have to be honest, he's not unattractive."

  "I didn't expect him to be. If you thought he was hot enough in the first place, then he must've been a looker."

  "Oh absolutely. It's kinda upsetting sometimes, y'know?" He sat on a counter and scooched closer to me. "The way that life doesn't operate like a cartoon. Life would be so easy if only ugliness was on the outside just as obviously it was on the inside. But sometimes the worst people are the most beautiful, and that can really suck."

  I rubbed the side of my head, not wanting to get offended because I was a very humble sort of guy, but I also wondered if he was silently throwing shade on me as being another potential abuser. But I couldn't blame him for making the insinuation after all he had been through.

  "Is he one of the redheads?"

  "No, he's got dirty blond hair."

  Scott looked into his half-eaten muffin. "Hmm. I was going to say, I’ve met a ginger-haired wolf around these parts recently, and he was one of the Grover clan boys. Maybe that was just another brother of theirs."

  Tommy slowly nodded. "I know a few of them are redheads, but Jonny never allowed me to meet them."

  "Why? What harm is there in that?"

  "He thought that I'd be tempted to fall for one of them if I saw them. Like, dude! No! I was with you! Except I'm not with him anymore...."

  "And you don't have to worry about him. But does he have any other features?"

  "Lantern jaw and square face, so he looks a few years older than he actually is. And he had a lot of spiky hair. I think he was going for that boy band look or something."

  "Ha! You mean like one of the Backstreet Boys? I don't think they even have spiky hair."

  "Eh, that's.... It was more like a punk, I guess. He had these weird icy tips on the end. And he didn't listen to that kind of music." He looked downwards, right at his legs. "I don't think he really listens to anything at all. He's lost in his own world and doesn't want to believe anyone else can be better than him."

  "Huh."

  Scott went to clean the dishes, but I stayed back to talk to Tommy some more, except we exchanged small talk for the most part. It wasn't really that nice to keep bringing up his trauma, so going with something that would create a connection between us was a good way to calm him further.

  He told me that he was a Cat shifter and came from Aberdeen, Washington. He was a good kid growing up. Good in his own way, at least. Never really talked to people he didn't immediately like, which gave him some issues with having friends, but friends he did still have. Yet he hadn't been able to talk to them in many months because of Jonathan.

  Flustered, I tried redirecting the conversation again, but he stopped me. "I know you're trying to be nice, but I really need to confront this." He balled up his fist, scrunching up his pant leg. "Even if it hurts, I have to do this. I need to look back at my old life just so I can know what's changed."

  I smiled and embraced him. He jumped, but his arms wrapped around me as well. And then he embraced me tightly. "You're a strong person. It takes a strong person to withstand abuse, and stronger still to leave. And you, being able to actively react against it in such a direct way-- I can't say that's the right way, but it is your way."

  He looked up at me and said to me, "I can't thank you enough for letting me work here. It was a very risky move, making my face public... I mean, they might still be able to catch my scent, but at least I could lay low and not be so visible..."

  I snapped my fingers and said, "What am I thinking? I can change your face just in case!"

  Flatly, he said, "What?" I walked over to one of the spice drawers and pulled out a flask.

  "Artemis," I said, "Is not a shifter like us, but she is a magical alchemist, which means--" I set the flask down on the table.

  "Oh!" His eyes lit up. "That's amazing! I've never met an alchemist before."

  "Don't worry, you will soon!" I swirled it around and watched the twisting colors, aquamarine and violet, twirl and spin. "Drink this. Drink as much of it as you can, because a lot of these potions don’t work properly if you miss even a drop. Just visualize what face you want, and for six hours, you'll have their face."

  His brow scrunched together as he became pensive. "I don't want to be too different..." He looked to the ceiling, his finger on his chin. "Maybe..."

  With my thumbs in my pockets, I watched him make his choice.

  I can't exactly say I understand his choice, but it was his to make and I'd respect it.

  "I want to be Iglesias." And then he plunged the flask’s mouth down his mouth,

  Tommy

  I don't know why becoming the Spanish-language pop star Enrique Iglesias made me feel so good. It was the strangest face for me to have and didn't
really match my skin tone either, but maybe that's why I loved it so much. Besides, no one around these parts except actual Latinos and uber-hipsters would even know who Iglesias was until he finally made that long-awaited English album. Rumor has it that Iglesias was actually a wolf shifter Alpha, so maybe that also gave me some of that desire.

  But does that make me sound like I have Alpha Envy (that is, an Omega who desperately wants to be an Alpha)? Eh...

  But I worked so much harder. Already, I was pushing myself because I wanted to pay off my college debts, but this lit the fire under my ass. I couldn't help but stop in the mirror admiring my new face.

  And I had a feeling that if I kept doing it, I'd just get on Neil's nerves, even though I also knew we had only known each other for, God, 24 hours?

  There was no denying there was some Alpha-Omega connection between us, however.

  The rest of the day was cool and cloudy, as was the usual around these parts. It was such an average day that I actually felt it was normal, and that messed up my mind. How could a life I literally started 24 hours ago already feel mundane?

  That was yet another issue plaguing my mind: I was so desperate for something new, some new normality, that I was willing to lie to myself. What's more, I knew that I was lying to myself, but I kept the lie going because the alternative was accepting that my life was a mess.

  And while I did entertain the thought, I quickly cast it out.

  As I did, more questions came to my mind. Was there really a connection between me and Neil? Or was I just telling myself there was?

  The answer, I feared, was too horrible to contemplate. So, I went back to adoring my Iglesias chin.

  Neil definitely noticed, and that made my heart run. "You're enjoying this way too much. Was it just your dream to be Enrique Iglesias?"

  I blushed. "I mean, I didn't even know he existed until two months ago, but..."

  He laughed and said, "I'm just kidding. Though I've gotta admit, I think you actually made a downgrade."

  "That's not a compliment, you know."

  Scott called from the back, "What am I gonna do with you?"

  Neil laughed at this as well.

  The rest of the day went without much happening. I lost my Iglesias face, Scott's son came back for a few minutes, and we handled the rest of the day.

  If this was their daily routine, then I'd not mind. But I did have to ask, "How come you don't have anyone else working here? You're working every day at this."

  Neil said, "It's not really done for money."

  Scott added, "Yeah, this is more or less a fun little way to spend our lives, just to say we did it."

  "And we get to be around coffee every day," Neil finished. "That's something of my passion."

  Scott butted back in with, "But you know something? You could do shifts. Yeah, if you need to use that face changer potion, and it only works for two hours before you have to wait again, then you could work in shifts. How long is the wait anyway?"

  "Another two hours."

  "Damn." He pat Neil's shoulder. "Would've been perfect if it was 30 minutes."

  I looked down. I didn't much like it when other people talked about me, actively discussing my actions. It made me feel like a pet, even though I knew it was just a basic function of social interaction.

  Closing time again. And as the day shifted into a beautiful night of the pines, I reflected on how this new beginning came directly from some other beginning's tragic end.

  I went upstairs and went to bed, amazed that I had all this. Neil didn't bother me even though I wanted him to, all because he was so upset at Jonathan's treatment of me and thought I needed alone time. I was too scared to tell him the truth. If I needed anything in that hour, it was him. His arms. His embrace. His scent. His loving.

  At the very least, I was happy that the wolves hadn't come.

  All in all, for a first day, it was pretty good.

  The next week went by wonderfully. There was no sign of Jonathan or any of the other Grover wolves, so I was able to relax and really get into my new job. What's more, we were starting to attract more attention.

  "Hey, look! They hired an Iglesias-lookalike!" some said.

  Others went, "Omigosh, have you tried Steamy Cups' pumpkin spice latte? It's sooooo good!"

  Either way, it was nice to get recognition-- but also concerning, because again, that was increased attention. Not exactly what I needed.

  Neil told me one afternoon, right after Michael had come back, "We're gonna cater to Brooks Creek Elementary next Tuesday. But I know for a fact that some of the Grover family wolves both work at and attend that school, so we're going to need you to stay back for this one. Just in case."

  That was fine to me, but it told me that I was still living in fear in some way, that I was still an outsider. The actual catering job came and went, and little came of it. At first.

  It was my scent that I was scared of betraying me the most. Wolves are known for their excellent sense of smell. Canines in general can almost "see" through smell, and the wolf shifters of Cascadia were on another level. If not for Neil's scent-blocking room, they'd have found me the day I first came to Steamy Cups. And that's also why I was still afraid despite having a hot new face (though the novelty of it was fading).

  Even though I was a cat on the inside, I didn't know how to smell things anywhere near as adeptly as they did. And I accepted that this was just something natural and biological, so there was no reason to worry about it. Until, of course, I had to worry about it. I had no way of knowing how differently our senses of smell were, and because of that, there was no good way of making an educated guess on if I was giving off strong enough scents for them to find me.

  It was possible, I knew, that my scent lingered on the very foodwares that Neil and Scott brought over to the school. Sure, I couldn't tell, but that didn't mean they couldn't.

  The shop was closed while they were out, even though I offered to hold down the fort. Apparently, Neil thought that was just a little bit too much work for me, so I got to sleep in my room and stare at the ceiling. More anti-scent charms had been installed, and I got to see the less positive side of things when Neil visibly had to get used to my scent every single time he came up here. Though, to be fair, he did sometimes seem like it was a joy to behold. I'd open my door and walk out every morning, and he'd be right there to sniff the air.

  Not that this was a good thing, because if he could smell me, then surely Jonathan could too. It was all so confusing. I just didn't know if Jonathan could smell my scent from across town or if he really did have to be in or near the shop to know. To explain how frightening that feeling was, it's like watching a nuclear missile come right down at you. You know it's coming, and you know it's the end of everything you love, and you have no way of stopping it. But most people those days didn't understand that fear ever since the Russians gave up a little over half a decade back, so I got to feel my own little cold war in that coffee shop every day, with only a foreign pop star's face and the comforting and beefy arms of that grunge-faced unicorn to keep me calm.

  All I wanted was to help and do good, like when a customer dropped by while the other two were gone.

  While I was reading through a cute romance book, I heard a car pull into the driveway. It sat idle. Whoever was inside got out, and I heard them talking to someone else but couldn't make out the words other than that they were definitely talking about the shop. This upset me more because I thought of how a patron wanted coffee but couldn't get any all because Neil and Scott had to be good men (they'd provide pastries for the kids and coffee for the adults, but even I knew the adults were going to run through those sweets first). For a moment, I considered going down and opening the shop again myself just so I didn't have to let someone down like I did my friends.

  But by chance, I decided to peek out the window right before I embarked downstairs.

  Jonathan stood in front of his red truck, with his brother, Jack, peering through the window. I
gasped and ducked, and quickly crawled under my bed and hoped they went away. Simply staring at them for one second filled me with the worst dread I'd ever felt in my life.

  For an excruciating minute, I laid prone. And then I jumped when I heard a car door, and then a second. After a few more seconds, the engine revved up and I heard the truck driving off. When I pulled myself towards the window a good ten minutes later, my heart lifted when I saw that they were indeed gone.

  But my heart hadn't stopped pumping. Everything felt surreal, as if I was looking at the world through someone else looking through my eyes. My vision kept tunneling. And sweat was flowing down the sides of my head and staining my shirt.

  Jonathan was there, with his beefcake brother to boot. He knew where I was, I just felt it. He was looking for me and found my scent. And the sheer terror of it was so overpowering that I thought I was going to wet myself.

  I hid in the closet and waited until Neil and Scott returned, and it was embarrassing to be so afraid in my own new home, but once they came in, I waited to make sure it really was them and then ran into Neil's arms.

  "Whoa!" he went. "Sorry for taking so long. The open house took a bit longer than expected.”" Then he gripped me tighter. "You're shaking..."

  It almost felt fitting that the Verve's "Bittersweet Symphony" had started up at that exact moment.

  "They came!" I said it again and again. "Jonathan came here!"

  Scott scoffed. "I knew I smelled something rotten."

  Neil nodded. "I thought it was something else, myself." He then squeezed me tightly and led me back upstairs. "Listen, Tommy, if they come back here again, we'll deal with them."

  "Speak of the fucking devil!" Scott slid order the counter and did an action movie move towards the door.

  Neil also rushed back down and his eyes boggled when he looked outside and saw that familiar red pick-up, eyes of red, and icy tips.