I liked Richard. He was one of those people that you never had to wonder where you stood with. If he liked you, you knew it, likewise if he didn’t. There was no guesswork with Richard. Not to simplify him, he was just genuine. Richard was also the only straight man that I could spend the day with without being propositioned.
“Need help with your rocks?” I asked sarcastically.
“Yeah.” He laughed.
I crouched down and began replacing the rocks on the chart, pausing to run my thumb over a piece of polished obsidian. It reminded me of the way Alfred’s hair looked in the early morning sun.
“You okay?” Richard asked.
“Yeah,” I answered, snapping out of my daydream. “I’m fine.”
“So, what brings you to this God forsaken place?” Obviously Richard was not the happiest of employees. But, he loved teaching, so he stayed, despite tremendous piles of bullshit. Sometimes I thought I should get him a shovel for Christmas instead of a card.
“Actually I need a favor,” I mentioned tentatively.
“Don’t think I’ll do any old thing just because it’s your birthday,” he teased.
“You remembered.” I beamed. “Good, then will you come to Ms. Wilson’s tea party with me?” I blurted out.
“Ms. Wilson? That nosy old woman who asked me my life’s history last year? You’re kidding right?”
I pretended to pout and Richard thumped me in the head.
“Stop it,” he said, but he was smiling.
“Pleeease?”
“What’s the matter, Alfred doesn’t do tea parties?” he asked bitterly.
“Alfred’s out of town,” I said, not making eye contact. When Richard actually paid attention, he was pretty perceptive. I didn’t want him to get a good look at my disappointment when I mentioned Alfred’s whereabouts.
“Oh,” he said, as if that changed things. “Then I guess I’m your only choice,” he said, the bitterness returning to his voice.
“No, Richard.” I looked back up as I asked, “What’s wrong with you?” He was never like this. Richard Stacey was absolutely the most mild-mannered person that I knew. Of course, in the years we’d known each other, I think I’d begun to wear off on him a little.
He sighed resignedly. “It’s nothing. I’ll go with you. When is it anyway?”
I passed him the invitation, but I wasn’t dropping the other subject. “What’s going on?” I persisted.
“Just more political bullshit. Your buddy’s come up with another reason to berate and embarrass me.” Richard referred to anyone he hated as my buddy. The truth of the matter was I didn’t like any of the people he worked with either, but I didn’t have to live with them, so to speak. I didn’t even ask which “buddy” he was referring to. It was no secret that the dean of the science department hated Richard. For reasons that went beyond my comprehension, he was constantly trying to find excuses to have Richard dismissed.
Of course these reasons were always completely ludicrous. The last I heard he was trying to have him fired for not checking his mail “in a timely fashion.” Apparently leaving Science and Society magazines in your mailbox was a violation. I believe he had worded it as, “not performing your academic duty.”
“Any chance we could turn them all into werewolves so you could kill them off for me?” he asked jokingly.
“No.” I laughed. “Besides, that may all change soon.”
“Really?”
I proceeded to catch Richard up on recent events. Since he was a scientist, as well as an attack victim, he had an interest in the subject. He was very fortunate to have not been scratched. The werewolf in question had flung a chair at him. It broke his nose, but at least he hadn’t been attacked with claws and teeth. His colleague, Dr. David Kane was a newly turned werewolf and wasn’t aware that losing his temper could bring on the change. Fortunately, no one was hurt and only the bartender and Richard saw what had happened. Dr. Kane had since learned to control his temper as well as the change.
“So, things could change then for David, too?” Richard asked about the possibility of werewolves being legally recognized.
“It could, but there’s bound to be a lot of prejudice. I doubt he would want anyone knowing what he is.”
“That’s true. Wouldn’t want werewolves teaching the next generation, now would we?” he asked sarcastically.
“Even if he wasn’t a werewolf, I wouldn’t want Kane teaching the next generation.” I laughed.
David Kane was a freak even without being a werewolf. He’d been infected with lycanthropy through a rough sexual encounter with a stripper. The problem was, he was really good-looking and the animal magnetism that seemed to emanate from most lycanthropes only made him more difficult to resist. Kane was around six-foot-two, with sandy brown hair, clear blue eyes, and an ass like muffin tins. Besides that, he was a really nice guy. If anything, being a werewolf had made him sexier. Oh yeah, I looked, but I knew too much about Kane to ever seriously want to touch. When it came to sex, this guy didn’t have issues, he had a subscription.
“That’s true,” Richard said, laughing. “He’s a nice guy, though.”
“Yes.” I had to agree.
With Richard caught up on the latest news in my life, I listened while he vented about his ridiculous working conditions, and we continued to pick up his rock samples.
“You actually know where all of these belong on the chart,” he said in amazement.
“I’m not a dumbass, you know,” I joked. “Just because I hunt werewolves doesn’t mean I don’t use my brain.”
“I know that,” he said, not liking to be chastised, even jokingly sometimes. “How’s the poetry coming? Had anything else published?”
I told him about my latest publication, but left out the poem that I’d written about Alfred the night before. Richard and I were close, but I wasn’t ready for him to know about Alfred and I yet, not until I was sure there was an “Alfred and I.” Richard was the mutual friend that had told me about Bradley’s plan to disappear from my life. After being able to trust Richard with that, it felt strange to keep this from him, but I just didn’t want to get into it.
“There’s a lot of fucked up stuff going on around here,” he said finally.
I knew he had to be really upset. Richard wasn’t a saint or anything, but normally, he did not use the f-word.
“Like what?”
“Like Mallory.”
Dr. Mallory Monroe was a bitch if ever there was one. She taught biology and seemed to have a fetish for anything unwholesome. Seeing as how Richard was a nice guy, she despised him. Mallory was about six-feet-tall, with short hair, and a strong chin. If it weren’t for her breasts, she could easily be mistaken for a man. She hated most men with a passion, though she didn’t have a preference for women, she just seemed to hate them slightly less.
“Why, what’s she done?”
“Nothing in particular. She’s just been more of a cunt than usual, even for her,” he said bitterly.
“Richard,” I scolded with a laugh. “Such language.”
“Well, she is.”
“So, she hasn’t actually done anything to you, she’s just more of—”
“A cunt,” he interrupted.
“Yeah, I got that part.” I laughed. “Could we choose another word please?” I wasn’t offended by the word “cunt.” I just wanted to see how creative Richard could be.
“Dickhead, now there’s a word,” he said darkly, placing the last rock on the chart.
“Who’s the dickhead?” I tried not to laugh, Richard was really upset.
“Who isn’t?”
“Would you like to get a drink?” I asked, trying to be sympathetic.
Richard looked at the clock on his cell phone. The man never wore a watch. “It’s noon,” he said flatly.
“So?”
He looked at me for a minute, considering. “You’re right. To hell with it. I don’t have to teach today. Let’s go have a drink.”
/> Since I didn’t have the ability to get drunk and stay that way and Richard did, I decided to drive. Besides, I think he needed to drink more than I did. We made our way over to a little bar on the other side of town and after two white Russians, he began to mellow.
“Thanks,” he said.
“You’re welcome.”
“Not just for the drink, for listening. Things have been driving me crazy lately,” he said, running his fingers through his prematurely gray hair and causing it to stand on end. I stifled a giggle as he continued, “I’m so tired. I hadn’t realized until I got still for a few minutes.”
“Come on.” I stood up. “I’ll take you home.”
I dropped Richard off with a note that said what time to be at my house on Friday. I knew if I told him then he’d never remember. He was absent minded enough without figuring in the alcohol.
*****
As I made my way down the long, winding driveway, I could see something bright red on my doorstep. Even before I got out of the car, I could clearly see a dozen red roses. I heard another car coming up the drive and looked over my shoulder to see Elijah Jasper’s patrol car. Hurriedly, I picked up the card. I wanted to at least know who they were from before he got there.
The smile was completely involuntary as I read:
Don’t get the wrong idea, this doesn’t count as conversation.
Happy birthday, Red.
The card wasn’t signed, but I knew Marco had sent them. What I wanted to know was how the hell he knew it was my birthday. Before I had time to really ponder the question, I heard Elijah’s door close.
As I turned around I saw that his bruises had turned to a lovely shade of yellow, and his lip was beginning to heal.
“Hi.” He smiled as he moved closer.
“What are you up to?” I asked.
“Well, I was going to wish you a happy birthday, but it looks as if someone beat me to it.” He motioned toward the flowers.
“How did you …?” I began.
“I overheard your friend Kat talking about it. I was at her shop earlier today,” he confessed.
“Oh.” I smiled. “That was nice of you, Elijah.”
“Call me Eli,” he reminded me, and the smile reached his eyes.
Even covered in bruises, Elijah managed to be charming.
“Come in,” I offered.
“Thanks, but I can’t stay. Actually, I was wondering if, after my bruises heal, maybe we could try again on the whole date thing.”
“After our first date was such a success,” I replied sarcastically.
“Yeah.” He laughed.
I felt that I should explain something to Elijah. It wasn’t fair to lead him on. “You know Alfred—”
“Is not here,” he interrupted. “But I am.”
I had to admit that caught me by surprise. There was no doubt whatsoever that he had managed to charm this information out of Kat.
“Don’t look so serious,” he said gently. “I’m not asking for forever and always, but let’s spend some time together.”
“After our first date?” I repeated the question, just in case he missed the sarcasm the first time.
“I’m willing to take my chances.” His smile made me want to return the favor. Even the busted lip couldn’t distract from the heavenly blue of his eyes. They were the sort of eyes you could drown in if you let yourself.
“All right.” I didn’t have the heart to refuse him. “Just as long as you understand that—”
“Not forever and always,” he interrupted again. There was a note to his voice that I couldn’t quite read. It wasn’t exactly sadness. It was closer to disappointment.
“What did you have in mind?”
“Well, not Chinese,” he joked.
“Do you like Italian?”
He seemed surprised.
“I’m not a bad cook when I try. Why don’t you come by next weekend? I’ll cook for you. You do realize, this is a rare offer?” I added with a wink.
“That sounds great,” he answered, glancing back at the patrol car reluctantly. “I’ve got to be going. Will you be at Ms. Wilson’s on Friday?”
I laughed softly, shaking my head. “She got you, too, huh?”
“She stopped by to ask Kat about your invitation while I was there.” He added with a grin, “I was trapped.”
I wanted to say something to make him stay, but nothing came to mind, so I waved politely as Elijah drove away. There was something about him that just made me feel better. He wasn’t comforting in the sense that Alfred was. With Alfred, I knew I was safe from anyone who might try to hurt me. But, when I was near Elijah, I forgot there were such people. It wasn’t just the smile, or his eyes. I had been wrong in thinking that Elijah was completely innocent. He’d seen enough to know the world wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. There was something else in his smile. It wasn’t innocence, or naivety. It was hope, and it made me feel better.
As I sat Marco’s roses on the kitchen table, I thought about what Elijah had said, “not forever and always.” If he knew that, then why was he wasting his time? But then again, wasn’t it me who had said, it didn’t have to be anything serious? Yeah, I think that was me. I enjoyed being with Elijah, and it didn’t have to be any more complicated than that. Part of me was relieved to have someone to spend time with in Alfred’s absence who wasn’t looking to complicate my life any further. But another part wouldn’t stop saying, “don’t get too close.”
Maybe I was the one being naïve to think that I could spend the next three months with an attractive man and not become involved. However, I reminded myself as I read Marco’s card again, I’m not a complete animal ... just half.
*****
Friday came more quickly than I expected and when Richard arrived, I still couldn’t decide what to wear. I answered the door in my pajamas and a pair of flip flops that just happened to be conveniently located outside my bedroom door. He laughed when he saw me, and as I took in his appearance, I remembered why I hadn’t bothered to tell him to dress nicely. Richard never dressed down. The man didn’t even own a pair of jeans. The pity was, the one time I’d ever seen him wear them, he looked good.
“Is that a fashion statement, or are you just not ready yet?”
“Very funny.” I wasn’t really amused, and I couldn’t help the smirk. “Are you gonna help me decide on something, or just stand there?”
He took a deep breath as he replied, “Well, there is a nice breeze here—”
I snatched him through the door before he could finish his next smartass remark.
After looking through about half the things in my closet, we both finally decided on a mid-length, flowing brown dress. It was sleeveless, with gracefully layered ruffles that reached just below my knees. I accessorized with a sun hat to which I attached a sheer brown scarf as a band. The ensemble was completed by a strappy pair of heels that neatly covered my tattoo.
I walked out of the bathroom and found Richard looking through some of my latest sketches.
“What do you think?” I posed dramatically.
“That I’m in the wrong line of work,” he said, still looking at my drawings.
I walked over to see which pictures had caught his attention and found Marco kneeling like a slave on the page before me. As is often the case with Marco, the smile was involuntary.
“Do you like it?” I asked.
“I’m afraid to say,” he said seriously.
“Why?”
“Well,” he said, looking up at me, “if I like it, what does that say about me?”
“That you need a dominatrix.” I laughed. “Now, what about this dress?”
He smiled approvingly as he said in his best backwoods hick voice, “You clean up reel nice, missy.”
We arrived fashionably late, while everyone else was still introducing themselves. Most people were already acquainted. However, there were always a few new faces each year. I saw one face in particular that I wanted to avoid, but she was alre
ady making her way toward us.
“Shit,” I hissed, turning my back on Marcy as she advanced through the crowd.
“What?” Richard asked.
“I hate that woman,” I growled.
“I don’t like her either,” Elijah’s voice said from behind me.
I wasn’t sure how I’d managed to overlook him, but as I turned around, I saw that I was clearly blind to have done so. Elijah was wearing the kind of dress shirt that is meant to be worn untucked, in a deep shade of brown with a matching jacket, dark dress shoes, and a pair of jeans that fit well enough to have given Marco a run for his money.
“Not bad,” I said approvingly.
“Yeah, I clean up nice.” He returned my greeting with a smile that made his blue eyes sparkle and I noticed how much the brown complemented his hair. Standing in the sunlight that afternoon, I appreciated for the first time how his hair reflected like a honeyed gold in the sun. It seemed a grave injustice to have categorized it as dark blond or light brown. His hair was brown, but with natural golden highlights that most women would have killed for.
After a moment, I realized I was staring. “Yes, you do,” I said, not bothering to be polite enough to stop looking. This caused Elijah’s smile to broaden appreciatively and Richard leaned around to give me a funny look. It was at this moment that Marcy finally made her way to where we stood on Ms. Wilson’s front lawn.
“Lilith, so nice to see you.” She beamed artificially.
Every word that woman spoke in an attempt at polite conversation seemed an insult to my ears. I forced myself to smile as I replied coolly, “Hi.” I couldn’t bring myself to say it was nice to see her, too, because it wasn’t. I’d have much rather eaten dirt for lunch than be forced to speak to Marcy Johnson. Leave it to Ms. Wilson to extend a greeting to everybody. Marcy looked from Richard to Elijah and back to me as I realized with a hint of amusement that we all matched. It hadn’t been on purpose, but Richard’s tan suit and brown tie most definitely went with what Elijah and I were wearing.
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