Mr. Good Time: [using my big D voice] Just say thank you, Sir.
sweetiebird: Thank you, Sir.
You have no idea how much your effort and consideration mean to me.
I know we’re not supposed to say stuff like this, but I…
sweetiebird: …
July 18, 5:48 p.m.
sweetiebird: I really value our relationship.
Thank you. Truly, thank you for making me feel not so alone.
Mr. Good Time: …
July 18, 6:02 p.m.
Mr. Good Time: I really value our relationship too. Text me when you’ve made it to the room.
this summer
There was a bear murder exemption on our secret law books:Lex Irae Ursinae, or as we call it in Bear Mountain, the Rage Pass. Basically, if someone did something so heinous in their form—like, say, manhandling a male’s female—that it caused that male to bear out and murder you, you got what you deserved, and the bear that killed you couldn’t be prosecuted.
“Don’t worry, Mayor! I’ll take care of cleanup,” said Grady Bjornsson, the store manager. He and a box boy in an orange vest came jogging out with a body bag—another item Barrington’s locations near bear towns tended to order in bulk. But they were labeled XXXL industrial duffel bags to ease the minds of any humans who might happen to come across them at the Super Centre.
Speaking of which.
“Any humans witness that?” I asked him.
“Just yours,” he replied with the cheery Barrington’s grin and index finger salute featured in all theirCome and get your smilecampaigns.
But any relief I felt over not having to arrange for an NDA and a six-figureyou saw nothingsettlement was canceled out when Lark, still standing in my naked second maul’s arms, said:
“I’m not his. Please never refer to me with that possessive pronoun again.”
Grady’s friendly expression turned confused. “Oh, I just thought since the Red Outsider Twins are in the mayor’s maul…”
He trailed off when I gave him a subtle shake of my head, then reset with another cheery Barrington’s smile—this time aimed at Gideon.
“Hey there, Twin. Want some pants? On the house?”
Gideon did. And less than ten minutes and one body removal supervised by me later, he was outfitted in a pair of Maple Leaf Red sweats with BARRINGTON’S emblazoned in white block letters down one leg.
“Thanks, Grady.” I tossed him the keys to Twinkerbell. “Mind asking someone on the smaller side to drive Wade’s car back up to Bear Town and leave it outside my brother’s cave?”
“No problem, Mayor!” he answered, catching the key and tucking it into the red Barrington’s work apron he’d tied over his vest.
Which left us free to drive back together in the twins’ truck.
However, when I reached for the back door, Gideon caught me by the shoulder and pressed the truck’s key fob into my hand.
“You’re driving, Mr. Good Time,”he growled into my head.
I gritted my teeth. Apparently, Gideon—like Callum—had sideloaded my complete history with Lark while my shields were down. Most likely while I was supervising the Halloween-level remains removal of the biker he killed.
Speaking of things that had happened behind my back…
