by Red, Lynn
"Shut up," he said. "I wasn't waiting by the... okay, maybe I was. But it wasn't because I was pining over you or anything. Where the hell did you go?"
She shook her head. "Just around. I needed some time to clear my head. What's going on?"
"Everything at once," he exhaled in a long, heavy sigh. "Your buddy from the TVA has apparently found something in the ledgers, and has called a meeting for eight in the morning next week. Eight!" he waved a hand above his head for emphasis. "In the morning!"
"Right, that's when meetings are usually called. So... what's the big deal?"
"Besides it being at eight in the morning?"
"Yeah, we're past that. Did he mention what it was? Or anything about why he's here?"
Erik shook his head. "Nothing. Not even a clue."
Jamie arched a thick, black eyebrow and nodded in understanding. "Okay, so that is in fact, stressful. What else?"
"That crazy shit who was in here the other day. What was his name? The bear ranting about how we weren't doing enough for those old people?"
A lump lifted in Jamie's throat. She thought of Cora, of Tom, of Ryan's aunt and uncle. He said that wasn't why he dragged her to meet them, but damn if it didn't work like a damn charm.
"Ryan," she said. "Yeah, of course I remember."
She was chewing her lip, and very thankful that Erik was approximately the least observant werewolf in the world, because if he was actually paying attention, the fact that the mere mention of Ryan's name got Jamie visibly flustered would have been painfully obvious.
"Yeah, him," Erik said. "I think this is him. The suits wandering around. I think he did this."
"Conspiracy much?" Jamie asked, quirking an eyebrow. "Out of curiosity, why and how would he summon some weird agency of the federal government of the United States of America? Do you think he's some kind of secret billionaire with a ton of connections?"
Although, shit, that would make more sense than the whole stupid witness protection thing. Jamie looked back in her memory, remembering the big house with the massive windows and the weird buttress things and the gargoyles. But if he is actually a secret billionaire - which is stupid in the first place - then why the hell would he bother stealing everything? Maybe he just does it for the thrill?
Erik cocked an eyebrow. "If I said yes, would you believe that I had the thought before you mentioned it?"
"No," Jamie said coolly. "No, I would not."
"It adds up though," Erik said. "Except for the part about how he wants the town to support all those people instead of just doing it himself.
"That thought had crossed my mind," she said. "He did keep asking about Branson, though."
The mention of the agent piqued Erik’s interest, indicated by another arched eyebrow. "Why?"
Jamie shrugged. "Kept asking if he was FBI. I told him I didn't know, played it dumb."
Oh shit, I just gave it away, Jamie realized, immediately feeling like the world's biggest dumb bat. Why can't I just keep my mouth shut?
"FBI? But why would that matter, I wonder? Why would it... hold on, you just said he was asking you about the suits? How did—"
"Let's just leave it there," Jamie said. "I wanted to talk to him, to learn about these people who apparently have existed in the forest for a year? Maybe more? Izzy and I both knew they were there, but we didn’t know much else. Figured maybe I should finally take a look?”
But as Erik was wont to do, his brain was absolutely riveted into place. Once he fixated on something, once he had something upon which to focus, his normally flighty mind latched on like a snapping turtle with lockjaw. "You talked to him? When?"
Jamie took a deep breath, held it for a long, slow five count, and let the air slip out between her lips. She tried not to audibly sigh, but didn't do a very good job. "Does it matter?"
"Are you trying to get a boyfriend?"
"Holy shit!" Jamie swore, putting her hands dramatically up in the air. "What is this, Erik? Did we revert to high school? Are you going to start popping my bra again?"
"We dated a long time ago," he said. "I've figured out how the hooks work."
"Did Izzy have to show you?"
"Yeah, so what? I usually just rip them off with my teeth. I'm a fucking werewolf! That's what we do!"
Note to self: whenever Erik starts prying or getting too close to the truth, just question his sexual prowess. Works like a charm.
"Well then why did you have to learn about the hooks? Did Izzy finally get sick of you ruining all her underwear?"
Erik looked slightly downtrodden. If it were possible for him to feel shame or embarrassment, it'd be that, but since it absolutely wasn't, being downtrodden is the only thing it possibly could have been. "That, and..."
"And what? Did you finally figure out how expensive bras are when you started having to buy them?"
"That," he said, "and..."
Outside the window of Erik's office facing the parking lot, Jamie watched a large, black sedan pull up. It was all sharp lines and chrome accents, straight out of a 1970s James Bond flick. The car pulled to a smooth stop, and the engine cut off, but no one got out.
"And what?" she asked again, looking past Erik as she did.
"Well, I might have gotten a cut on my gum one time, from one of the strings, and it maybe didn't get checked fast enough, and," he trailed off.
Jamie snorted. "You got a gum infection from Izzy's bra? That's," she took another breath, starting to turn purple from the laughing. "That's incredible! How did," she put her hand on her chest, doubled over. "How is that even possible?"
Erik scoffed a laugh, coolly self-deprecating. "Oh, I dunno, you know? Sometimes you just get going too hot and heavy you don't notice stuff like that."
He ran his hand through his shaggy, dirty-blond hair and flashed one of his slightly yellow-eyed twinkles. He was starting to get wolfy. Maybe he was hoping Izzy would be in a good mood when he got home. Or, failing that, at least a giving one. He finished the combo with a grin that made his high cheekbones and beautifully angled jaw stand out even more prominently.
"If it was fifteen, twenty years ago, and you shot me a look like that, you woulda had me on the floor of a bathroom panting and sweating," Jamie said. "But now?"
Erik scrunched up his eyes. "What's wrong? Am I getting wrinkled or something?"
She patted his chest, patronizingly. "Oh, no, you're still gorgeous and muscled and all that. The only problem is that now?" Jamie paused for a moment, enhancing the drama. "Now, I know you."
Erik pursed his lips and set his bottom jaw forward, which made him look more than a little Cro-Magnon.
Mission: distract Erik, complete. Jamie smiled to herself, and looked back past Erik's shoulder. Still no sign of anyone in the car, and the windows were so heavily tinted that even Jamie's night-trained eyes couldn't pierce the shroud. "Any idea who that might be?" She tilted her head to catch Erik's attention.
"No," he said, turning. "But that car's been coming and going all day. Probably one of the people with Brosnan."
"Branson," Jamie corrected. "You know, like the town. Dancing water, Lawrence Welk?"
He shook his head, and looked almost completely vacant. Not normal Erik-vacant, but seriously like there wasn't a thought in his head.
"You sleeping okay?" Jamie asked, more to make idle conversation than anything else. "Seem distracted."
"No." Erik's reply was flat and matter-of-fact. "Hardly at all."
"Is it Izzy keeping you up?"
"Yeah, but not the way you probably think."
"She's preggers with your enormous wolf baby. I'm sure she's not feeling exactly randy these days, you know? Maybe give the ol' rogering pole a break for a while?"
Erik shook his head, he wasn't even awake enough to get irritated. That, Jamie knew, was a very bad sign.
"It isn't even that." His voice was just hollow.
Jamie turned to him, and really studied her old friend's face. The bags under his eyes were obvious at fi
rst glance, but how puffy and red his eyes were, wasn't, until you really looked. His nose and cheeks were slightly flushed, like he'd been fighting a cold for a long time and the tissues had irritated his face. His hair was perfect, of course, but the looseness of his jaws and the way he wasn't grinning like an asshole almost constantly concerned Jamie.
"What is it then? If I have to keep asking you the same question over and over again to get anything out of you, I'll just let you stay miserable and quit asking."
"Huh?" Erik said, shaking his head like he'd been falling asleep and caught himself. "Oh, sorry. Yeah, no it isn't sex, I don't bother her about that. We barely do it anymore though, only once a day. Sometimes we even skip."
"Oh, God," she laughed, swatting his arm. "Poor baby. Poor, poor baby."
Although really, it probably was fairly bad. It isn't a wolf's fault his libido is completely out of control. It was lucky he'd found Izzy, honestly, because not even Jamie was ever able to keep up with Erik's thirst. He wasn't pushy or anything of the sort, he just wanted it all the time. Which, okay, when you're twenty-two? Fine, sure, we can do it in the elevator, have a quickie in the Laundromat, hell, even sneak off into the bathroom at the gym, put tissues all over every single visible surface, and get after it.
But at thirty-five?
She laughed under her breath. "What is it then? You're obviously not yourself."
Erik looked like he was getting tunnel vision. He stared, dead-eyed at the car in the parking lot, which happened to be one of four strewn about the spaces. "She's very competitive."
"Competitive? What's that supposed to mean?"
"In bed - er, asleep, I mean." He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. "She's a very competitive sleeper."
"Oh...kay? Care to explain that one?"
He laughed a laugh as hollow as his cheeks. "She rolls around a lot." He winced, like he'd been through something terrible. "She rolls and kicks and talks. And sometimes she'll wake up in the middle of the night and start screaming at me."
"Jeez," Jamie said, "she having nightmares?"
"Not screaming like that, screaming like calling me a whiny baby, how she could beat me up. This one time, you know what she said?"
Jamie was trying very, very hard to suppress what was probably going to be a major episode of the giggles. She had to start over twice to swallow the laughing before she finally asked what Izzy had said.
"Two nights ago," his voice took on the far-off sound of a haunted soldier recounting war days. "She was asleep. Just snoring away, happy as an oyster."
"Clam."
"What?"
"Clam - the phrase is happy as a clam. Not an oyster. Anyway, keep going, sorry," she said.
Without acknowledging that at all, Erik just kept talking. "She rolled over and jabbed me in the ribs with her elbow. I was pretty irritated, so I kinda snapped. 'What do you want?' that sort of thing."
"Understandable," Jamie said. "Did she get upset?"
"No, she was dead asleep. Anyway, she did that, and then she kept, like, nudging at me. Prodding me in the side of the face."
"And she's asleep through all this?"
"Totally. So she's jabbing at me, poking me, and finally I get up out of bed, I'm pretty pissed, and I say 'what the hell are you doing? Why won't you let me sleep?' Right?"
"Reasonable question," Jamie said, still having to bite her lip to keep from getting worked up.
"So she sits up, points at me. Just points and stares. And then about fifteen seconds later, she stands up on the bed, walks over and pokes me right in the nose. She pulled me real close and then yells in my ear, ‘you're a pussy!’”
Jamie gave up on trying to keep herself from laughing. No point. She was purple and wheezing.
"Yeah, yuk it up. She didn't remember anything at all. Next day, I asked her and she thought I was lying. It wasn't until after breakfast that she remembered, and then she started laughing about it."
"Oh my God," Jamie wheezed. "I would have given anything to see the look on your face. Listen to me though." She grabbed his shoulders and turned him to face her, tired eyes and all. "You're being so sweet to her. I can't even imagine what sort of hell you're going through. I know what sort she's going through because she tells me about it all the time."
At that, even Erik got to laugh a little.
"Just keep doing what you're doing. It won't be long until Aunt Jamie can take the little cub and you two can go wild all over the place."
Erik's eyes twinkled for a moment. "God that'll be nice."
"But you just keep doing what you're doing with the foot rubs, and letting her call you a pussy in the middle of the night. She doesn't act like it now, because she's completely, totally, fucking miserable. But she'll remember everything you're doing."
He nodded, slowly, like his mind and body were disconnected. "How would you know?" he asked.
Jamie shot him a sidelong glance as they both faced the window, wondering what was going to happen with that car. He doesn't know. Of course he doesn't, no one does. Well, no one except Jenga. Guess he takes that fake doctor-patient confidentiality thing seriously.
Her throat got a little thick, but a quick throat clearing got rid of that. "Just a hunch," she said. "That's all. Get some rest, will ya?"
She was out the door and up the stairs before the red was running down her cheeks. Erik, for his part, probably hadn't even noticed Jamie was gone.
-11-
“It had to happen sometime.”
-Jamie
“Quick” was not a phrase that could ever be used to define Jamie Ampton’s decision-making process.
She'd run from Ryan, although that wasn't much of an earnest attempt at fleeing. It was more like she left after a date and did one of those "I'm going to pretend I don't like you but really, I'm begging anyone that will listen to send you back," things that everyone does more often than they'd like to admit.
But, it was a slow death spiral from that to three days later when she decided she couldn't go another second without seeing him. Ryan had been on her mind since they parted ways, but only the past day did she start getting strange, unmarked notes at the office that made her think maybe he was getting a little edgy too.
"The hell are all these?" Erik asked when he casually strolled into her top-story office and saw the pile of envelopes on her desk. "You got some kind of secret admirer?"
At first Jamie hadn't honestly been sure where they were coming from, but by the fourth envelope out of the seven that had arrived that morning via the intra-city Jamesburg post, she figured it out. Something to do with the slightly naughty limericks each one contained, mostly themed around "vampires" and "sucking" clued her in.
She shrugged, outwardly trying her best to act like she wasn't, in fact, as excited as she probably very clearly was. "These just started coming this morning. Irma brought 'em up. Not really sure what's going on, but—hey!" she shouted as Erik grabbed one and opened the stationery square.
"The moon in the skies, the glint of your eyes, I can't stop thinking, my thoughts they keep sinking," his eyes got wide enough to be comical, "to how it must feel between your thighs? Holy shit, Jamie, whoever is sending these to you is either a romantic genius, or some kind of sex pervert."
"Isn't that pretty much the same thing to you?" Jamie curled her lip in a sardonic grin. "They get better." She passed him another envelope, figuring that she could keep him entertained with the naughty content of the letters, and thus, make him completely forget that he'd decided she had a secret admirer.
"Oh, this one smells like," he took a long whiff, "some kind of musky, sexy cologne. All right, let's see."
His eyes scanned the text, and once again, got big and round and white. "Imagine my luck when I felt a suck, and looked back and saw nothing but you." Erik shook his head in awe. "This is incredible. Can I write these down? I can put some of these to good use. I'll take any help I can get. Izzy's pretty much in a terminal state of never-in-the-mood lately
."
"Erik?" Jamie asked, slowly, like she was introducing a new concept to a third grader. "She's... pregnant. Have you heard of this condition? You’re lucky she keeps letting you go at her, even if it’s only once a day."
He chuffed a laugh. "Yeah, well, maybe if you put it in the form of a dirty limerick, I'd understand better."
He probably didn't expect her to fire one off right off the top of her head. "Erik Danniken's a hopeless, horny dork. All he wants is to convince his mate to pork. Maybe instead of pining, he should start whining, or else just go and buy a pig."
Erik furrowed his brow, letting what she'd said sink in. About thirty seconds later, he started booming with laughter so heavy and relentless that Jamie thought the neighbors would call the cops. Of course, the neighbors were the cops, so it worked out.
"Can I write that one down?" he finally asked. "I gotta use that one. That's perfect. I mean, it’s not exactly a limerick, but it’s perfect."
"Perfect for what?" Jamie screwed up her face. "If you use that on Izzy, leave my name out of it, thank you very much."
"Oh yeah, definitely. I want to make sure she thinks I came up with it. She'll love that. Good luck with your horn-dog suitor there, Jamie," Erik said as he rapped twice on her doorframe. "I'm gonna go... manage."
She took a deep breath and couldn't help but smile as he turned to leave. "Yes, you will, Erik. Somehow, someway, you will manage." She made a mental note to ask Izzy about the poems, and how romantic they were next time she saw her. If nothing else, she could see whether or not that whole thing about getting pregnant by a werewolf gave the mate the werewolf bloodlust.
If anything on earth could make Izzy kill Erik, it was hearing about him wanting to pork her.
Just those few seconds of lightness were enough to make Jamie relax just a touch. The tightness in the small of her back that she knew was her way of funneling emotions into physical symptoms, knotted up. "Well," she said to herself, "I've got a pile of dirty limericks, and one hell of a case of bear-crazy. Evidently, Mr. Drake has a case of Jamie crazy. So what am I supposed to do?"
