At the moment, a spike would break my bank account and force me to take on more shady work, including picking up a bounty or two from the legalized system.
“So I did.”
As the payment processed and because my co-workers would kill me if I didn’t help make sure his monster order went through without a hitch, I left the register and began gathering what I could, tallying off parts of the order as they finished and triple-checking everything. I bagged everything as efficiently as I could, although I expected the lycanthrope would make two trips to his car.
At least the rest of the customers understood lycanthropes could eat a ridiculous amount, and nobody peeped a complaint. I counted that as a miracle. Within five minutes, thanks to more miracles in the back, I sent Wayne on his way. I breathed a relieved sigh when he left.
My virus whined, as it recognized Wayne as a single lycanthrope male of the appropriate species.
I needed a new life, but rather than bitch about it, I went back to work and thought curses rather than mutter them.
Wayne trippedmy virus’s trigger, riled her up, and turned the rest of my shift into a living nightmare. My virus viewed every customer as a potential mate, although she ultimately rejected them all. Wayne leaving in possession of my favorite foods made her long to follow at his heels and beg for more than just dinner.
Unfortunately for both of us, dinner would be the last can of tuna in the cupboard, my next pay was in a week, and rent was due on Monday. Fortunately for both of us, I’d planned for the rent, but I would have approximately five cents left over when I finished paying it.
A hungry lycanthrope became a cranky lycanthrope, and cranky lycanthropes ran a high risk of picking fights. My virus, when hungry and cranky, went for the businessman who wanted to buy out my building and put me on the street. Reminding her that he wanted to turn the apartment complex into an office wouldn’t help.
She cared about food, mating, and puppies, and not necessarily in that order. On a bad day, my virus surged and goaded me into heading to the nearest playground to watch the children play, the closest we were getting to puppies without catching a man. Although she was essentially a somewhat sentient disease lurking under my skin, my virus understood the food problem.
When I couldn’t afford to eat, I couldn’t afford to eat, and that was that. When the going got tough, the tough went to the nearest state park, became a wolf, and hunted for mice and other small animals to take the edge off until the tough could afford to pay for dinner. The virus helped a lot with the hunting, as she hated starving as much as I did.
I finished my shift without incident, wished the restaurant offered free meals instead of decent discounts, and headed home, debating how I’d handle my weekend. With exactly zero prospects for dinner for the next week, I’d either have to pick up an easy bounty or spend my weekend hunting.
The next week would more than suck, and I wanted it to be over with.
To add insult to injury, Wayne Barnes couldn’t leave well enough alone, and he waited in the lobby of my apartment complex armed with most of his dinner and one of the unsweetened iced teas I’d foisted on him.
What a dick.
Ignoring him might make him go away, and I marched for the stairwell, as the elevator had given up the ghost yet again and needed an exorcism to work.
“It seems my information on when you’d be getting off work was right,” Wayne announced.
Why was killing the obnoxious male illegal? “What do you want, Wayne?”
“Twenty minutes of your time in exchange for your favorite foods.”
I halted, and my virus perked up at his reply. She wanted the food first, and she wanted him for dessert. With a simple practitioner trick, I could heat my food back up to the temperature I liked without making it chewy, spongy, or yucky, a common problem with reheated fast food. A stronger, better woman wouldn’t have considered his offer at all, but when I faced a choice of my last can of tuna and free dinner, free dinner I could heat up myself to be perfect would always win. “I’ll give you twenty minutes of my time, but I’m not signing anything, and I’ll hope the sounds of my chewing drown out your prattling.”
Rather than become annoyed as he should have, he laughed. “I have a new offer for you, and I figured twenty minutes would give you enough time to ask your questions.”
Ugh. The last time he’d come with an offer to get me to move out, he would’ve paid for a year of my rent in a new place, which would have given me a year of life before I could no longer afford to live in Long Island, as my status as a single lycanthrope female barred me from having non-infected roommates. Without making at least three times as much, I couldn’t afford a new place.
Even if I scraped every penny for a year, I figured I’d be able to afford three months at the next cheapest place.
I hated picking up bounties. Bounties involved exposing my status as infected to the wrong people.
“I’m not going to have any questions because the answer is no.”
“Wait until you hear my offer before you decide.”
I grunted, but as he had food and was willing to share it with me, I waved for him to follow. “I said I’d listen. Don’t be surprised when the answer is no.”
“Stubborn woman,” Wayne muttered under his breath, and if I hadn’t been a lycanthrope like him, I wouldn’t have heard him. As such, I ignored his complaint and marched up the steps to the fourth floor, taking the opportunity to beat him to my apartment, unlock the door, and grab the spray bottle laced with wolfsbane perfume and spray it all over the studio apartment so he wouldn’t be able to detect the scent of my virus. The lemon air freshener in the bottle would also help cover my activities. I returned the bottle to its place on the stand beside the door and shucked off my coat, grateful I kept my apartment immaculate.
One never knew when the CDC might come calling.
Wayne meandered down the hall, talking to someone on his phone. I hadn’t heard the phone ring, so I assumed he’d been the one to make the call.
