Bryson ran a hand through his short, dense beard before banging a hand on the dash. It wasn't that he was surprised that his car wasn't starting, it wasn't even that he was mad at the car, it was that he had no other way at all to work. After his dad had died, Bryson had become a bit of a recluse outside of his job. In the past several years, Bryson hadn't made any real friends or stuck with any girlfriend long enough to call it serious.
This usually didn't bother him... until moments like these when he could really use some help. He tried starting the Buick a couple more times before resigning. With a loud sigh, he yanked the flip phone from his pocket and dialed his work number.
"Thanks for calling Ruby Tuesday, how may I help you?" Bryson recognized the voice immediately. This was Lindsey. And thank fuck it was. She was a manager, yes, but she was a manager who seemed to like Bryson. A whole hell of a lot, actually. In the back of his mind, he wondered why he'd never made an effort to see her after work. She'd offered more than once.
"Hey Lindsey, this is Bryson," he replied, pacing around his car. "Yeah, my car... it decided to, I don't know, give out this morning. Don't know why yet. I'm gonna have to run to work, though. Gonna be a little late."
He heard a laugh from the other end of the line. "You not that fast? Didn't you say once that you chased deer for fun?"
"I'm fast. Not car fast," he answered quickly, shuffling out of his pants and getting ready to wolf up. "See you as soon as I can get there." He hung up the phone before hearing her response, and began shoving his workplace attire into an empty grocery bag he'd found in the passenger seat of his car. After his things were gathered and his bag was successfully tied up, he gave a slight shake of his head and mouthed a single, apathetic curse.
He morphed. He decided against running down the highway as a hybrid, and chose the form of a normal wolf instead. He looked more like a dire-wolf in size and stature, which Bryson knew might draw some attention... but he also knew an eight-foot hybrid would sure-as-fuck set off something. He just knew it. Something he didn't have time for.
He snatched up the bag in his teeth and bolted. Dust picked up under the wolf's paws as he trod the back-roads near his home. Even with his current circumstance, the running relaxed him. It relaxed him so much, in fact, that Bryson's mind drifted. His first thought was one that realized that he must look pretty amusing with the grocery bag in his jaws, perhaps like he was playing a game of fetch. Except that, when he ran to his destination, he wouldn't get a good-boy pat and a dog-biscuit. He would get a paycheck. Maybe. If he wasn't so lucky, he'd get a write-up too.
Ah, but it was Lindsey.
When he turned at the stop sign and began darting up the side of the paved black asphalt, he caught eye of the gas station he'd filled up at just yesterday. What a fucking waste that was. Maybe he'd get his car working again soon. He stopped for a moment to catch his breath, standing just by the gas station's entrance. He'd been running for at least six or seven miles now.
The things he'd do for some water right now, and maybe a nap. And a car that actually cooperated too, if he was being generous in his wishing. That would be nice. It was at that moment in time, when he was between pants and wondering what his life would be like if things were easier, that he nearly got hit by a car leaving the parking lot. It was a small one --a black Honda with heavily tinted windows. He jumped out of the way before it could plow right into him.
Had Bryson been able to talk or shout at that very moment, it would have been a bad word --the worst one he could think of. But he only yelped. Loudly.
What in the absolute fuck? That was the first thought that crossed his mind. How could someone almost hit him? It wasn't like he was a bunny rabbit or some shit --he was a massive wolf. He wasn't that damned hard to see. He wanted to turn back into a human and give that driver a piece of his mind. He would have too, but he'd be naked. Really naked.
The Honda skidded to an immediate halt, and its driver rushed out in a flood of apologies. He recognized the voice, and he recognized the girl too. It was Amelia, the girl who'd rang him up yesterday. He noticed her pale-red eyes were covered by a pair of dark sunglasses.
"Are you okay?" she rushed over to the wolf and checked for any injuries. His anger fizzled out at seeing her. He didn't know too much about her, but judging from the tracks of watery mascara that ran railroad tracks down from beneath her sunglasses and over her cheeks, she'd likely had a rough day. Or night. Or both. Fuck, was she just leaving?
When she didn't find anything wrong with the wolf --him, Amelia seemed to take notice of the bag in his mouth. The bag and the fact that he wasn't hostile towards her.
With a small sniffle, she wiped the makeup from her eyes. "You're not hurt. Good." The words were soft. It was as if she didn't mean for him to hear them. Still, he did. Amelia spoke again, this time louder. "You're a werewolf. I know that. I'm very sorry... I wasn't paying as good of attention as I should have been paying. I don't wish you ill or anything like that. It's just... a bad day for me. And the early morning sun burns my eyes. That didn't help either." He nodded, not able to do much else given his form, and began to walk away.
She followed him.
"Is there anything I can do for you?" she asked. "I nearly hit you with my car. Let me help you. Here, are you going somewhere? I can take you, if you like."
She might've been a stranger, and perhaps he'd made wiser decisions than getting into a car with a vampire, but with the incident he was now really running late. And common sense told him he could only almost die once a day. Right? Hell, the possibility of more than that had to be pretty damn slim. He dropped the grocery bag and nudged it forward with a paw.
She took it in her hands and untied it to reveal its contents. She found his apron first and read where the words Ruby Tuesday were engraved in red on its black surface.
"Right," she said, and placed it back in the bag. She opened her door for him. "Climb in."
The car ride was quiet for a second as they both got settled and started towards the restaurant. And then it wasn't.
"It's funny," she talked to him in a way that sounded like she was talking more to herself. "I've lived here for a long time and seen Ruby Tuesday more times than I can count. But I've never actually went there."
Bryson's blue wolf eyes just stared at her from the back seat. She didn't look to see if he acknowledged her, but rather, kept on talking.
"Of course, that's not real funny, actually. I've never been to a McDonald's either," she said with a quiet sigh. "And everyone here seems to be frequent visitors of greasy places like that. I am a cashier --or was," the words told Bryson exactly what was wrong with the girl. "And you wouldn't believe the number of times I've been asked whether or not I eat real food. When I tell them no, it's like... I don't know, I'm some sort of alien. And sometimes the wrinkled, white ones look at me with more disgust than I can even explain and then proceed to tell me I should probably not kill people for food. Sometimes they yell and shout, even though I don't kill." Amelia ranted openly. Bryson glanced for a minute into her rear-view mirror to find that small fangs protruded now from her upper lip. "And then sometimes I snap back and tell them to kiss my cold ass and then get fired from my job."
Bryson let out a huff in response. That was something he'd do.
Amelia took a deep breath, her fangs retracting back into her skull with a small pop.
"I apologize," she continued after a minute, "I guess I needed to let off some steam. I've been working for the past seventeen hours now. You were my first victim, I suppose. I should probably rest and feed before trying to interact with anyone again." She paused, and then fearfully added. "Not on you, of course. I genuinely mean to help you."
He didn't look alarmed. Hell, he wouldn't even mind if she did use him, so long as she used him well. That was just the thing about vampires. A bite from them could render lots of emotion. Under the circumstances, they could feel good. They could feel like peace and serenity. They could feel like a high one couldn't come down from, or they could feel like the good kind of heart-thrashing adrenaline as if one were riding a roller coaster. They could feel like a good nap. They could even feel wonderfully erotic.
Under the wrong pretense though, it wasn't so good. Vampire bites could bring despair or fright. They could render a person paralyzed, blind, and helpless. They could make one feel hollow and gloomy --like the very last light in the world had just gone out.
And it wasn't that lovey-dovey shit that was written in the new books. It didn't feel good because one loved the vampire and bad if they didn't. It wasn't anything to do with however the fuck a person felt about the vampire chewing on his or her neck. And in any circumstance, the teeth hurt. That was a bit of fluff left out of the books --oh yes, the teeth hurt like fuck when they sunk in. The key to vampires --their power, laid within the endorphins and neurotoxins they could release from through their fangs. If a man was caught, he better hope and pray to whatever God he had that the vampire was playing nice and gave him the good feelings.
Essentially, vampire bites were like drugs. There were good ones and there were bad ones. If one could get past the pricking fangs, the chemicals could send them on a hell of a ride.
Amelia pulled up at Ruby Tuesday. The parking lot was dead, thank fuck.
"Sorry again," she said, "thanks for... understanding."
He just huffed again and she walked around to let him out the door. He jumped out an grabbed the bag of clothes with his teeth and trotted behind the building, leaving the girl behind. He did hope she'd be careful the rest of the way --well, wherever she was going. A couple glances around told him his safest bet of transforming and dressing was beside the dumpster.
Part of him wished pets were allowed inside. Ah, oh well. Three cheers for indecent exposure... and right behind his job no less.
He'd never dressed faster, and as soon as he was done, he unraveled his braid and tousled his hair as best as possible in order to up his appeal. He had to make tips, after all. Soft, still-damp locks undulated like waves down his back.
And then, he went in. Lindsey stood at the hostess podium reading a paper. The second he opened the door, her eyes met his.
"Well look what the cat dragged in," she said, placing her paper on the wooden surface. "Thanks for calling ahead, Bry."
Bry. He didn't like to be called that. It brought about a sense of closeness between the two of them that the wolf didn't want. It was a closeness that, for him, didn't exist. Even still, he offered a courteous nod and noticed that only two tables were occupied. His other coworker, Max, already had them covered.
"Been slow. Monday mornings are always slow," she said, "I've been reading the paper all morning."
"Anything interesting?" Bryson asked while punching in. He was over half an hour late. Dear Jesus.
"Apparently there's a new alpha in town." The news, he could tell, intrigued her. From what he knew of her, Lindsey was definitely one of the fan-girls. And from what she knew of him, Lindsey knew that he couldn't care less about all of it.
"Do tell me more." Bryson's voice dripped wet with sarcasm. She only pouted before opening the paper again.
"Stop that. I know you don't care about this stuff but this story really is interesting!" she argued. "You see, for the past couple of years... Dean Sodham has claimed the alpha role for Tuscumbia and its neighboring towns. But last night... oh God, last night. All of his pack-mates are saying he got one-upped by a werewolf over eight feet tall! They claim, by tradition, he's the new alpha except no one knows who he is. Dean's pissed and everyone's looking for this thing!"
Well fuck me sideways. That was the only thought that passed through his mind.
"And that's in the paper?" he asked with a hint of a smile, "You know packs and traditions and that alpha stuff is all bullshit, right?"
She rolled up the paper and smacked him with it.
"Alright, Mr. Smarty Wolf-Pants... be that way, then." She watched as two people walked into the restaurant. And then, she bid him, "Go do your job."