A Canadian Werewolf in New York

Chapter Four

Five minutes later I was walking away from my transaction with the bag lady wearing a slightly torn dress shirt that was a size too large for me and missing two buttons as well as a pair of mismatched shoes, one of which was a perfectly fitting sneaker, the other was a sandal that was a size too large.

     Getting there, I told myself, and thought about Mack waiting for me at the Metro Market.  I briefly considered my next step. Perhaps it should be to get a quarter so I could make a phone call to his cell phone and let him know that I was running late.  But that thought was quickly dismissed given how I knew he detested such dalliances.   Mack had the patience of a toddler and, despite the fact that I was now making him some pretty decent money, he wouldn’t put up with a client that made him wait a single minute for an appointment.  In his point of view, if a client couldn’t be bothered to be on time for a meeting, he wouldn’t waste another second working on their behalf.

     I realized that I was very fortunate to have found an agent like Mack, and while I’d be able to get another agent without issue, I found myself needing him -- not just for business reasons, but for personal ones as well.  Like Buddy, he was quirky but interesting, and he constantly challenged me.  I found myself needing to be challenged in my personal relationships -- if you didn’t have to work hard at something, it almost didn’t seem worth it.

     And I definitely had to work hard to be in Mack’s good books.

     And that’s where I wanted to stay.

     I moved to Murray Street towards the subway entrance.  I figured I’d be able to sneak onto the subway, but only with the additional thought that the next time I took the subway, I’d pay double to make up for my free ride.

     Sure, a lot of people would make fun of me for trying to live my life so straight.  But the person who I had to please most was myself, and, in the same way that Mack was true to himself, I set my own personal standards high for a good reason.  After all, I was the one who had to live with the consequences of my actions.

     And having blackouts of my time as a wolf was the hardest thing to deal with, particularly after waking up the way I had this morning.  I mean, if I’d hurt an innocent person, or even worse, killed someone, I’m not sure how I’d be able to live with that.

     A foggy string of memory from last night filtered up to my conscious mind.  This time, the memory was completely non-visual, but I could tell that I was moving through an alley, moving fast, from the sound of my paws on the pavement.  I was chasing the wolf ahead of me.  And, mingled with his hot breath was the distinct scent of human blood -- the same human blood that I woke up tasting.

     A blaring horn to my immediate left broke the wispy memory.  I glared at the driver as I continued walking towards the subway entrance.

     So, there was another wolf.  What was I doing chasing him?  Yes, him, I knew it was a him from the memory of his scent.  That and the stink of human mingling with the canine scent meant that, like me, he was a werewolf.  What else did I know? -- he had the blood on him that I’d tasted when I woke up.

     This was getting curiouser and curiouser.

     I moved down the stairs, starting to mesh in with the morning rush hour hustle, and, in the midst of the crowd, I was easily able to check for observant eyes and hop over the turnstile and make my way, virtually un-noticed except by a few people who’d been immediately behind me, down to the lower platform level.  I shuffled through the crowd over to the far left of the platform, to ensure I “lost” the people who’d spotted me, just in case.

     The rumbling of an approaching northbound train could be heard down the tunnel -- this was good -- I’d be able to make good time and get back to the hotel with enough time to get inside, have a quick shower, change, then be downstairs and around the block to meet Mack.