"Can you help me do this?"
It was three days before Camille answered the calls she kept getting from Moesha and Jackie. She went to work, she came home, she locked her doors, and she stayed inside. She kept having dreams where Richard came breaking through her bedroom door in his wolf form, vibrant and impossibly huge, ready for her, and he would pin her to the bed and take her for hours and hours...
And she wanted it every time.
He never called, though. Never came to see her. Never sent her an email or a letter. He had told her to go away. Apparently, he didn't want to see her anymore. All because she had tried to get him away from the wolf.
He chose the white wolf over her. It was hard to accept.
Addicts were like that, she knew. They would give up anyone and anything in their life if it was something that interfered with their drug. Interfered with their high. Richard's drug was the wolf. He was addicted to the power and she had tried to get him to step away from it, for her. He'd made his choice. It hadn't been her.
When she answered the phone at her apartment, finally, it was Jackie who was calling. "Where you been girl?" her friend asked her. "I was so worried, Camille. You said you were going out with him and then we don't hear from you for days. What was we supposed to think?"
"Jackie, I'm fine. Okay?" Camille rolled over in bed and stared at the ceiling. "I'm fine."
"Hmph," Jackie said. "You don't sound fine."
"I'm just a little down, is all. It's been a long day." That was a lie, actually. Work at the bank had been the one thing that grounded her life right now. She was perfect for this position and she loved the new job. "I just want to catch some sleep, that's all."
"He broke up with you, didn't he?"
Camille was surprised by Jackie's question. She thought to deny it, to give her some story about why they weren't together anymore. The words died on her lips. She didn't need to tell her friends all of it, but there was no reason to lie to them, either. "Yes, sort of, I think we want different things..."
"Damn, woman." Jackie laughed softly. "I've been through it enough myself. I know what it looks like. Come out with me and Moesha. We'll go to a bar, you'll forget all about him. Promise."
"I doubt it."
"Well. You won't forget him, maybe, but we'll make it better. That's what your friends are for, right? Come on, now."
"Jackie...it's late."
She knew Jackie wouldn't accept that. "Camille, it's only nine o'clock. Plenty of time to have a few and still sleep it off before work tomorrow. It's settled. Me and Moesha will pick you up in a half hour. You better be ready."
Jackie hung up before Camille could say different. She had to smile. No matter how stupid the men in her life had been, she could always depend on her friends.
They sat down at a no name bar not even an hour later, at a table near the corner where the dim lighting was even dimmer and the pounding rhythm of techno dance music wasn't quite so overpowering. Camille hadn't exactly dressed for a night of clubbing in her jeans and blue t-shirt, but Moesha had taken the time to put on a red backless top and tight black pants and high heels that added three inches to her height. If she didn't have a man trailing her home before the night was over, Camille would have to say the world had come to an end.
"Girl," she said to Camille now, sipping something pink and fruity through a straw, "I knew that white boy was trouble. White boys always think girls like us are easy and don't respect us. You need to find yourself some nice hot chocolate to heat up your bed. Mmm. "
Jackie rolled her eyes. She was dressed in jeans like Camille, with a sparkling purple top that accentuated her chest and drew more than a few glances from guys at the bar. "She just broke up with her man, Moesha. Be nice."
"What?" Moesha said. "Not like the man died. You want him dead, Camille? 'Cause I know a guy. He'd do anything I ask. I mean...anything."
The wink Moesha added to that line made her doubt she was actually joking but it made her laugh. Camille had to admit, she did feel better for being here with her girlfriends. "Can we not talk about him anymore?" she asked. "Let's just have some drinks, maybe flirt with some guys, just like we used to."
"Mmm-hmm. I knew it," Moesha said, slamming her empty glass down on the table. "What did that bastard do to you? Did he hurt you?"
Camille shook her head vigorously. "No. No, he didn't hurt me. It's not like that. We just...we wanted different things. That's all."
"Like what?" Moesha pressed. "You wanted the professional life and he wanted you to stay home and make babies?"
"Moesha!" Jackie scolded.
"What? That happens. That's what broke up me and Clark. Man had a way of making me scream in bed ain't no man done since, but he expected me to pop out kids and I am just too young for that."
Camille slumped in the bench seat. "It was nothing like that. We're two very different people. It just didn't work out."
"I told you that you was two different people. You is a strong, black woman and he's a weak white boy with too much money. Only thing you had in common was the fact you both breath the same air. High and mighty rich boy," Moesha grumbled. "Thinks he's a different species or something."
Camille studied the tabletop. If her friend only knew, she thought.
It wasn't like she could tell them about the wolf. Sure, there was that stupid non-disclosure agreement that she had signed, but it was more than that. Even if she could make her friends believe her and not think she was crazy, she didn't want to tell them about that part of their relationship. She was a little embarrassed to admit how turned on she was by the way Richard's wolf sexed her. But even that wasn't the reason she didn't tell them about it.
She wanted to save that part for herself. She wanted to keep the memory of the white wolf all for her own. To have a part of Richard she could keep, even if she never saw him again. She knew that was foolish of her, silly even, but there it was.
They drank for the next hour, talking about their jobs and how Moesha wished she had a job and about the men at the bar that kept sending them drinks and what they might expect in return for the free alcohol.
They laughed and lost all track of time and by the time the clock on the wall showed Camille that it was after midnight, she realized she had forgotten all about Richard Marquis, if even for a little while.
Just like Camille had expected, a young black man at the bar with a spiral pattern shaved into one side of his head was hanging off Moesha when it was time to go, like a puppy dog wagging his tail for a treat. Jackie leaned over and whispered something to Camille that sent them both into fits of laughter. Moesha leered at them, then turned that look on her new admirer, and the guy practically melted right in front of them. When she walked off toward the exit it was understood that Jackie and Camille would have to find their own way home.
"Guess I should've brought my own car," Jackie sighed. "Oh well. Want to split a taxi?"
Camille only had two twenties left in her wallet so she told Jackie she'd pay for the ride this time. Jackie could get it next time, she said, because they both knew with Moesha that there would be a next time.
They rode in the back seat together, still laughing and joking about the time they'd had tonight. Camille's apartment was closer, and they were there in a few minutes. "You going to be okay?" Jackie asked her as the taxi pulled up to the curb.
Camille's head spun a little as she nodded. "Sure. Men and women break up every day, right?"
Jackie leaned over and hugged her suddenly. "Yeah. But none of those folks are my best friend."
"Thanks, Jackie. Thanks for getting me out of the house, too."
"Call me. Don't make me wonder if you're okay again."
Camille promised to do that and then paid the driver his money and got out. The yellow cab drove away, and Camille stuffed her hands into the pockets of her jeans. Things were looking better. Richard Marquis was part of her past. Time to move forward.
Up on her floor she opened her apartment door and snapped on the light and stifled a scream.
Richard sat on her couch with one arm laid over the back of it, legs crossed. He looked at her with an unreadable expression. "Hello, Camille."
"Richard," she said in surprise, keeping her door open, one foot still outside. "What are you doing here? How did you get in?"
He held up a key for her to see, then tossed it on the coffee table. "You didn't take your key back when you left."
"That don't give you the right to come into my apartment unannounced!" she snapped. He didn't move, didn't answer, just sat there, staring at her. Finally she made her mind up and stepped all the way into the apartment, closing the door. "What do you want, Richard? It's late and I need to get to bed."
"I want to show you something," he said to her, standing up. In the hand that had been behind the couch was the heavy wooden box that he kept the wolf juice in. He held it out to her in both hands like a gift.
Heat rose in her chest. "We've been over this. I do not want your serum," she said slowly, enunciating each word. "I don't want to be a wolf. I don't want you as a wolf anymore. I wanted you, Richard. The you standing right here in front of me in my apartment, uninvited! You didn't want to give that to me, remember?"
He shifted his weight and looked down at the box. "I know what I said. These last three days, I've decided something.
"Oh really?" she said, crossing her arms over her breasts. "I'm supposed to care what you decided? You threw me out of your apartment. I was just trying to show you-"
"I know," he said, his soft words strong enough to interrupt her. "You were trying to show me how I had become addicted to the wolf juice. I get that. Now. I mean, I get it now. I was angry at you, Camille. So angry. I wasn't thinking straight. For the whole next day, I gave myself injection after injection and I just stayed as the wolf that whole time."
Camille was shocked. She hadn't expected to hear him say she was right. Or worse, that he had gone on a wolf juice fueled binge. "How did that feel for you?"
"Good. At first. So, so good." He brought the wooden box back into his chest, caressing the lid, his eyes unfocused. "I had never done that before. I had always been able to control the wolf. At least, to some extent, and only let him out when I was having sex or when I felt like running wild. Just me and the wolf. After I met you, though, the wolf wanted to come out more. It became impossible not to give into it. I've never met anyone like you, Camille."
She twisted her lip and looked at him from under her eyelashes.
"I know, I know, every guy says that." He nodded, once. "But I mean it. No other woman in my life has ever compared to you. The wolf wanted you more than anything else. I wanted you more than anything else."
"You had me, Richard," she pointed out. "I was yours. You just had to be yourself with me. That's all. Was I asking too much?"
His smile was there and gone again. "When you asked me to put the formula away, at first, yes it was too much for me. So I dove into the wolf harder, deeper. I did things that, well, I'm not proud of. Then I had a moment when I was about to inject myself but something stopped me."
Camille was intrigued by the slow cadence of his story, the open honesty in which he was baring his feelings to her. She stepped closer to him now, closer than she knew was sensible, and waited for his eyes to meet hers. "Something stopped you? What?"
His answer surprised her. "You, Camille. I had this clear image of you in my mind, and I realized that what I really wanted was you. Not the wolf. And not to prove my father wrong. Not this idea of strength and power that I had created. I didn't want the wolf. I wanted you."
Camille felt her heart lift in her chest. Was he saying what she thought he was? Had he honestly chosen her over the wolf? She looked down, to the box in his hands. "If what you're saying is true, then what about that? Why'd you bring that here?"
He swallowed, and took a moment to answer. "In my factory in the city here is a special division that employs exactly five people. For two whole years, they've had exactly one job. Making the wolf juice for me. They don't know what they're making, they only know they get paid very well to make it and tell no one how or what. I shut that division down yesterday. I reassigned those men to other tasks. The wolf juice is out of production. This is all that's left."
She couldn't believe it. He held out the box to her again, and she gingerly opened the lid to reveal six syringes inside. Four of them had the black serum he had meant her to take. The other two had his own white wolf juice in them. "This is the last of it?"
"It is. When this is destroyed, I'll have no way to go back to the wolf. Ever."
"Wait. Destroyed? What do you mean, destroyed?"
"That's why I brought it here," he explained. "I don't trust myself. To do it, I mean. I might...I might be too weak. I might try to take it just one more time. I need you to help me, Camille. Can you do that for me? Can you help me do this?"
She laid her hands over his at the sides of the box. Looking deep into his eyes, she smiled up at him.
"Gladly." She smiled back at him.