Prologue
Part One
In the beginning
December 2021
Julian
“This is such a bad idea,” I groaned, staring at my roommate in horror. “Such, such a bad idea!”
“It’s brilliant,” Julie countered as she continued to pluck clothes from her dresser and stuff them haphazardly into the duffel bag on her bed. “You’ve been bitching about not having anything to do during the school break and I have a last-minute vacation invite; I get beach time and you get to keep busy and make a few bucks!”
“You’re forgetting one thing,” I sighed. “I already volunteered as a bell ringer, and I can’t let them down. Besides, you are the drama coach, not me. How in the hell do you expect me to direct a play?”
“The bellringer gig is literally one hour each dayandit’s at night,” Julie snickered as she pulled a tiny scrap of blue polka dot fabric from her top drawer. “Play practice is only two hours in the morning. And you don’t have anything else scheduled for your vacation time. Besides, you might have ajobas a music teacher, Jules, but your degree in fine arts included minors in creative writing and drama,” she pointed out, adding the bikini to the already overstuffed bag. “And it’s just a neighborhood kids’ community theater production. Everyone is going to love it, no matter what.”
“But how do you think they’re going to miss the fact that I’m not you?”
“Masks are required everywhere, right?” Julie laughed before winking at me. “Seriously, I was hired by a talent agency and since none of them have actually met me yet, they don’t know the first thing about me,” she turned to face me and stuck out her tongue, “including that I’m not a guy. In fact, all they know is that I use the stage name of Jolly for side work.”
“No,” I gasped in horror. “You do not expect me to let them call me that!”
“You owe me, remember?” Julie shot me a pointed look and I sighed.
“Yeah, I know.” I pulled out my best puppy eyes and made one last attempt.
“Not gonna work,” Julie sang out as she wrenched the zipper on her bag closed and tossed it over next to the wall. “First of all, you’re forty and that’s a little too old for sad eyes. Second, we have seven days for me to teach you everything you need to know to put on a world-class performance with a group of little kids.”
I collapsed back on her bed and stared up at the popcorn ceiling. “Nifty.”
Chuck
“I really don’t understand why you’re harping on this,” I groaned, removing my gold wire-frame reading glasses to pinch the bridge of my nose.
The two men on the other side of my desk snorted as one.
“So, you mean other than the fact that you haven’t taken any time off in two years?” Kade, my longtime friend and the self-defense instructor on the Omega Destiny, International campus asked with a chuckle.
“I just took two weeks off a few months ago,” I disputed, holding back a sigh.
“I’m not sure that traveling to Pennsylvania for the final custody hearing of the seven Omegas saved from the Omega Auction House fire counts as time off,” Jeremy, Kade’s husband and an ODI counselor, commented.
“Guardianship,” I huffed.
“I’m sorry?” Jeremy cocked his head in confusion.
“It was a guardianship hearing,” I explained. “The Omegas are all adults, so we are seeking temporary guardianship while they get back on their feet, not custody.”
Jeremy smothered a grin. “My mistake. And since I’m certain that you aren’t trying to distract us and change the subject, I’m going to point out that the last year has been very stressful and you need a break.”
“I’ve got another week off in January,” I continued, shaking my head. “I think I can hang in there for a few more weeks.”
“Except that’s also a business trip for ODI,” Kade commented, rolling his eyes. “Unless you’re not talking about the trip out to collect the same seven Omegas from their temporary home with Trevor and the other Coruscation werewolves?”
I gave up on holding back the sigh. “Fine. You’re right. What is it that you think I should do?”
Kade and Jeremy exchanged a grin and Kade reached into the inside pocket of the jacket he wore, pulling out a plain white envelope and tossing it over the engraved plaque that readCharles Keir, Esquire, Directorto land on the desk that separated us.
