SixBarkPackTabooMobi

by Carys Weldon

  That didn’t mean they didn’t love her. Or that they’d ever stop looking for her. Or they wouldn’t kill anyone that had helped her along the way.

  Chapter One

  I wasn’t exactly thinking straight, but I knew one thing--I had to hide. But I knew from experience, that the best place to hide is right under someone’s nose. So the first thing I did was hit a pharmacy and held it up for the cash in the drawer, hair dye--in three different colors--some sweats, striped toe socks, flip flops, a can of juice and a candy bar...with Tom’s gun.

  I took my booty back to the studio, waited in the bushes for Tommy and Leo to leave, then snuck back in. I looked at it this way...if by chance they came back and found me, they’d be happy I showed up.

  It was all a matter of time anyway. They always came and got me. Didn’t matter where I ran off to.

  And if they didn’t?

  To tell the truth, I didn’t think that far ahead. I knew Tom would kill me if I took off with his gun. That was really the only other idea in my head.

  Checking the safety, I set it on the counter, the minute I walked in. In plain view.

  It wasn’t like I’d shot it or anything. Just waved it around a little.

  I adjusted it two or three times, saw a smudge on it, picked it up and rubbed it across the lacy part of my bra. Damn greasy fingerprint. Had to be Tommy’s. I blew on it, rubbed it again my chest.

  “Hm.” Wasn’t coming off. I put my tongue to it, then tried again. Got it.

  The gun had a nice feel. Weighted real sweet. Perfect for me. Not too short, or too long. Rounded edges, velvety blue finish. I had to admire it. I mean, it felt great in my hands, smooth. The safety was clean, easy. Checked that one more time. I liked the no cock bullshit. Semi-automatic 38 special. Easy trigger release. Shot off without any effort, in repeated succession. What’s not to like?

  I’d told Tommy that before.

  He told me to keep my hands off his gun. Snicker. I just batted my eyes at him, because really, it sounded a little too...what? I lifted my eyebrows at him, grinned, said, “Okay, Tommy. Sure.”

  Not gonna happen.

  That was like saying, “Le, here’s the forbidden fruit.”

  I slipped the mag out of the gun, checked the chamber, then did the unthinkable. The thing that would have made Tommy insane, if he knew about it. My secret.

  Kissed it, ran it across my lips, down my throat. Envisioned Tommy doing that to me, running his piece down my skin.

  Oh, I know he’s not my brother. Do they think I’m blind? There is no bagheera in me.

  Talk about a sad wake-up--back at school when I shared my family pictures. It hurt so much.

  I’m over that now, I think. Grin. Figured out how to handle it. They should have told me, before someone else did. Can’t blame me if I make them sorry for it, can you?

  I mean, that hurt.

  “Aaah.” Tommy’s gun is slick, glides over me, cool--like he is. Way too cool.

  Between my legs.

  Closing my eyes, I picture him, think of him doing that to me. I’d love to see him intense, rubbing me with it.

  It doesn’t take long to get to an orgasm like that. In fact, three times in a row came real easy. Roofies from the night before didn’t hurt.

  I wish he’d come back to see me in the middle of that.

  Fuck my brothers. Where could they be?

  Shots. Sirens. That explains that.

  Magazine back in. Safety checked one more time. Third time’s the charm. I left the gun on the counter.

  Then I went into the bathroom and washed the temporary dye out of my hair. Just leaned over the side of the tub, didn’t take a shower or anything. Probably should have.

  Call me crazy. I was only up to eight, and I’d promised myself nine. That’s the perfect number of the universe, you know. A multiple of three, and I like the number three. Go figure that one.

  Daddy, Leo, Tommy.

  Couldn’t decide on the color to go with. Black, for Daddy. Auburn, for Leo. Electric blue...Guess.

  Had to pluck the G out of my ass crack more than once. Sometimes they just climb.

  In the end, I poured them all out, and left the empties in the trash. You know, leave them guessing as to which color I used. I spilled some, but wiping it with the towel didn’t seem to be helping the mess, so I gave up on it.

  I knew Tommy’d have a cow. He’s such a neat freak. Always cleaning up our messes. It’s what he lives for.

  You gotta know, I looked back three times before finally shrugging, saying, “Sorry, Tommy. Give ya something to do when you get home--besides think of killing me.” It was kind of funny.

  Oh. Jokes--

  Felini trivia: What’s the most common phrase in the compound? I’m gonna kill Letha. Snicker. Or is that...fuck Le?

  Felini truth: Anybody even really considered it--dead man walking. No. That’s not really funny. Is it?

  Just try and appreciate the facts...and try not to judge.

  Tommy’s got a full pharmacy in his lavatory. I rummaged through it, popped a few uppers--three--considered swiping a couple painkillers for later. Grabbed some. Took a Valium. Then put two more by the sink with the PKs--to take with me. Might come in handy. Ya never know.

  I shut the mirrored door before any more looked good to me. Three bottles. I was good.

  Through bloodshot eyes and dilated pupils, I had to ask myself, “What were you thinking?” Hair that had been long, straight, silky now looked like sticks of straw. My own Daddy wouldn’t recognize me. I fingered through it, flicked it up and out so it looked haphazard.

  My hair is blonde. Makes it real easy to color. It’s fun, for a night. Pisses Daddy off. Don’t know why. Tommy and Leo don’t like it much, either.

  Don’t know why I do it. Just seems like the thing when I get out. Ya know? Made me roll my eyes, blackened around the edges with kohl. How funny.

  That shit had to go. A warm, soapy washcloth made quick work of it, but had my eyes stinging. That could have been worse because of the stuff that was still running through my veins, trying to get out in the blood vessels of my eyes.

  So it wasn’t funny for long. And I knew Daddy wouldn’t think it was humorous at all. He’d disapprove. He’d look sick.

  He loved my hair and my eyes. So much like my mother’s.

  Curse her dying ass for leaving me with Daddy, Leo and Tommy. No wonder she took off. Tight ass bastards. Probably lied to her, too.

  But she got out, didn’t she?

  They kept telling me I was just like her, and I kept trying to prove them right. She was an alley cat, and I was no better. They needed to get over it. I had. You can’t fight who you are. Wish I could get that through their heads.

  It’s fun watching them try, though.

  Two more times, I fished through my hair. There was no fixing it. I was ashamed to go home with it looking like that, and I vowed that I wouldn’t until it had grown out enough to be respectable. Not that I had a big urge to be respectable at that point. It was just another excuse not to stick around, not to go home.

  It didn’t take me long to find Tommy’s stash. He’s loaded. Always taking care of contingencies. I found it taped under a drawer.

  A quick count told me there was about fifteen hundred dollars. I stuffed it in my g-string, pulled my sweat pants on and up over it and chewed my lip, looking around. What else would I need?

  Oh yeah. Shirt, socks, and shoes. And my meds.

  I couldn’t think of another thing, so I left, swigging the juice and munching the candy bar. What’s the point of taking them if you’re not gonna enjoy. Right?

  Went by the bus that crept the city streets. Dropped the wrapper before I got on. Leo needed something to go by. Got off as far away from Tommy’s as I could get. Left the crushed can on the floorboard. Give something for Tommy to complain about. Ya know?

  Draw a triangle on a map. Put the compound at one dot. Tommy’s on another, then look at the bus schedule. Easy. Not like I
was pulling an Einstein. Three dots on a map. How hard was that? It wouldn’t take them too long to track me. I hoped they showed up before I got bored. I only had one more to do.

  * * * * * *

  It was like stepping out in wonderland. I went from golf courses and upscale gentlemen’s clubs to, well, neon grunge city. It never occurred to me to leave town altogether. After all, it’s easy enough to get lost in a crowd in your own backyard. Why work too hard?

  Really leaving would have totally pissed Leo off. I didn’t want him furious. Just...frustrated with me, if that makes sense.

  Everything smelled different there. That’s the first thing I noticed.

  I didn’t have the sense to be afraid, or to think about the fact that I was bastet--one of the cat people--and I’d gotten off the bus in garou-ville. Where the dog people live. Geography had never been a strong point for me, and it’s not like it’s labeled on the street signs.

  Since it was public domain, they were all in human form. I figured it worked like our side of town. You know, low profile in the streets so the average mortals never knew what they were surrounded by. We try to get by without too much fuss.

  Anyhow, knowing it existed, it had always intrigued me, but I can honestly say I didn’t go there on purpose. I just took the long ride and when the driver said, “This is it,” I hopped out.

  I’d never had to worry much about self-preservation. Tommy and Leo always took care of that for me. Anyway, as much as I’d screwed around, I’d always done it within the boundaries of Daddy’s domain.

  Like I said, I wasn’t thinking straight. But, can you blame me?

  From step number one, I noticed curious eyes, but people always watch me, so I didn’t let it bug. I had to squint when the sun came up. My eyes hurt, dry, and I was tired but I kept walking, looking around, wondering where I could crash, where I could nab a pair of shades.

  Not toying with going back to where I belonged. Never even crossed my mind. I mean, why? Tommy and Leo would be around to pick me up soon enough. I inhaled the fresh air--as it was, anyway--and took in the sights.

  A hooker called to me from a doorway. “Bitch.”

  I kept going, same pace, pretending I hadn’t heard.

  “I said...bitch.” Next, the rat-tatting click of her heels catching up to me. “You don’t want to go that way.”

  Sparing her a glance, slowing up, I asked, defiantly, “Why not?”

  “Prime piece like you?”

  That made me flinch, and I put my chin up, walked a little faster, too. Thinking, prime? I wasn’t dressed to impress anybody. I muttered, “Who says I’m prime for anything?”

  “You go that way, and you’ll be primed. I promise.”

  I stopped, faced her and said, “Look. Did I ask for your advice?”

  That’s when I realized she was bastet, too. Had some harsh hours under her belt, judging from the lines on her face and the sadness in her eyes. Not that she wasn’t pretty. In fact, she might have been beautiful, if she hadn’t looked so tired. She had masses of naturally curly, layered red hair with highlights. Big brown eyes. Classic features that had to draw men to her. And a really curvy shape, highly noticeable in her low-cut, sparkly, red, slinky, strappy mini. Yeah, it was a number you couldn’t miss.

  Perfect for Leo. I frowned at her.

  A little sadly, she said, “I know you.”

  It was annoying. I grouched, “You do not.”

  “Yeah, I think I do.” Her eyes trailed up the street to where I was headed. “What’s your name?”

  I don’t know if she really thought she knew me, and wanted to confirm--that seemed too unbelievable to me--or was she just trying to get to know me?

  I asked, “Does it matter?”

  “Sugar...” She swung her head back around. “What in hell are you doing?” Her hand reached for me. “Do you have any idea where you are?” I flinched from her fingers. She groaned, leaning back, crossing her arms. “Oh. I get it. Running away. Again.” She blew air upward. “Couldn’t you run away somewhere else?”

  Maybe it bugged her that I was in her space? She reached out, flicked my hair and said with a curled lip, “You’ll be dead by midnight here.” Looking from side to side, she said, “Dogs are already sniffing.”

  There was interest from up the street. Heads peeking in our direction. I felt like she was drawing attention to us.

  “Right.” I had an urge to move on. Besides, I knew as long as I stayed on the sidewalks, in the open, I would be all right. Garou don’t snatch people, even cat people, in broad daylight--unless you piss them off, and I had no plans to do that.

  She put a hand on my arm, really gripping this time, and insisted, “Least, let me put you up. You can think about things before you do something stupid.”

  Pulling free, I said, “I don’t need to think. Keep your hands off me, chica.”

  The girl had a salsa thing going on. It suited her.

  “Look. It’s late.” Early morning--but late for night people. “Shack at my place. Get something to eat. Let me tell you some stories. Then, you wanna go that way, you go. K?”

  “No obligation?” I really was tired, worn out. I’d had a big night. Forgot about my quota for the minute.

  She hesitated, chewed the inside of her lip, glanced behind me. I turned to look, too, but didn’t see anyone. That’s when she said, “Nah. Just come.”

  So, I went with her.

  The place wasn’t fancy. One of those old buildings that have been around for a hundred years. Cracking brickwork on the outside, and peeling plaster on the inside. But she’d cleaned up her apartment. There wasn’t much in it, though. Nothing like what I was used to. It was a nice change.

  She offered me a soda, and we sat down on her couch. That’s when the wheedling began. She wanted to know my name. Where I came from. If I had family.

  I didn’t say much. I felt like I was being played. One minute she seemed like she knew me--that runaway comment--then she asked me questions. Didn’t make sense. Had my protective radar up.

  And more...she asked specifically if I had any brothers. I told her I did. Then she asked about them. Tried to come across like she thought I was cute, so they must be, too. That kind of interest. Kept looking at me oddly, like she was thinking about something pretty hard.

  She tried the ‘trade for trade.’ Told me her name was Ali. Got my name that way. First one, anyway. Then she spilled a little of her life story. Not much. Said she’d been hooking for awhile, and told me that her pimp would be by any time to pick up the night’s pay. I don’t know why, but I thought she was lying.

  But...he didn’t knock. Waltzed right in like he owned the place. Maybe he did. I don’t know.

  I didn’t like him. Stunk like a pisser dog. Asked me if I was interested in working the lane. That’s the line between garou-ville and where I came from. Where I was, apparently.

  Never saying a word, I shook my head. He left without any trouble, smiled when he told Ali, “Keep her safe. You know how it can get down here. May be worth something to you.” He slipped his arm around her waist, pulled her in for a kiss and added, “Something you’ve been wanting real bad.”

  Whatever that was all about.

  He left after that. And I began to wonder if she’d been telling the truth. I mean, it looked like she was a hooker. He acted like a pimp, fronting like he was the man and all that. And I’d pegged her as one straight up. I figured my instincts were a little out of whack, though, for all the stuff rolling through me still.

  It never occurred to me that she was somebody else’s eyes. A lookout. Or a victim. But that’s another story. Yeah, I learned more about her later.

  Ever think that destiny has a plan? That you’re set on a road that you can’t really turn off of? You can take another path, but it just leads you right back to where you’re supposed to be. That’s what I think, anyway.

  I asked her more than once, okay--three times, if she really was selling her talents. Not that I was judgin
g. I mean, we all do things to get by. It didn’t sound too bad to me. I think men should pay for what they get, one way or another. We’re all whores. Right? Feed me. Clothe me. Take care of me. Gimme a little spending money.

  Does that sound harsh? We give them what they want. Why shouldn’t we get a little ‘gimme’ back?

  She didn’t want to talk about that. Said it made her tired. But she did want to tell me some stories. I didn’t believe half of them. You could call them Dog Wars. And Cat Wars. They meant nothing to me. That was above me, ya know?

  Interrupting her, I asked, “You got any blow?”

  Of course, she did.

  It was a mistake to deal cash with her watching. That’s how much I care about money.

  Anyhow, we did a line. After I sniffed it up, I told her that Tommy would hate it. Laughed about it, actually.

  Then she kissed me.

  I made her back off. Told her I wasn’t into that. That she should ask before touching. She was cool with it. Offered me a hot toddy. I took maybe three sips before I was down for the count.

  When I woke up, she was gone, and so was my cash. I figured that meant fair trade for anything in the place.

  I looked for a drink first. The bottle was empty, by the sink. My glass had been washed, even. Groan. I knew I had to get out of there.

  Peeling all my own things, including the bra and G, which had gotten stale, I put on a cute pair of brown suede pants, some spiky, pointed toe boots and a lace-up leather corset top.

  That was all a little tight. I’m bigger boned than she is, built completely different. Then I took a jacket to match, too. Swallowed my last two Valium dry, and slipped my PKs in the pocket. Then I took a look at myself in the mirror.

  Pants drew attention to my butt, climbed the crack a little--showing definition in my cheeks. Cut to do that on purpose. I wasn’t sure what I thought about that, but I figured my family would hate it, so it made me smile.

  Cupping my breasts, I tried to make them look bigger. The corset flattened them worse than they already were. You can’t fix some things, though. Ya know?