Chapter 13
SETHpreyed on Dustin’s mind. A woman with brown hair, a man with similar eyes or the same height—they all brought back memories of Seth and the nights Dustin had spent with him. He remembered Irene’s room, years ago, when he’d found Seth crying. His own heart had broken. How he hated Seth’s grandmother for tearing them apart, and for throwing away the arrowhead that he’d hoped might bring Seth back.
If not for that woman, would they have grown up inseparable, as they’d been as kids, or would they have drifted, moving on to other interests, other friends? Picturing them lying on their bellies in Irene’s room, spilling secrets beneath a quilt draped over the backs of two chairs, Dustin found it hard to believe anything other than physical separation could have kept them apart.
For the past two nights, passel duties had occupied Dustin’s time. Yet foremost in his mind was concern over what Seth must think about his absence. Things would be so much easier if Seth knew the whole story. Then there’d be no need for secrets, no need for hiding.
As temporary leader of the passel, the duty fell on Dustin’s shoulders, but he didn’t want to have to be the one to tell Seth that heading back to Chicago wasn’t wise. And Dustin certainly wasn’t looking forward to the expression on Seth’s face when he learned that from here on out, he might be spending every full moon with a ragtag group of shape-shifters.
On a positive note, for a guy used to not having any family, a “family reunion” held every full moon might hold some appeal.Dream on!
In Dustin’s lifetime, only a handful of new members had joined the passel accidentally, and a few had made a hard transition. Would Seth blame poor Tiffany?
He pictured Seth out at the farmhouse, alone, miles from home, and suffered a hot stab of guilt. Regardless of the circumstances, he wasn’t being a very good friend, and for certain Irene sat perched on a cloud somewhere, watching from above, shaking her head at Dustin’s lack of courage.
Seth needed him right now. Surely changes were taking place within his body that he couldn’t possibly understand—much worse than puberty—and someone had to prepare him for what he might face with the rise of the next full moon.
Well, they had a date scheduled for later, though Dustin wasn’t sure if tonight was the right time to come clean. Maybe he should start slowly, ask, “So, Seth. Do you like possums?” He sighed. Dancing around the subject wouldn’t work. Once he’d herded a straggling patient out the door who’d wanted to stay and chat with Tiffany, he headed to his office to log in his last chart of the day.
Monica followed him.
“Can this wait?” he asked. “I’m kind of in a hurry.”
“Not really.”
One glimpse of her thinned lips and creased brow and he dropped in his chair, bracing for the worse. “What?”
“Imay not like Seth McDaniel much….”
Dustin’s heart sank to his stomach.
“… and I may think Irene deserved a better nephew….” Dustin’s heart plunged further.
“… but you need to make up your mind about who you want running the show. And you need to have a long talk with the guy.” “Why? What’s happened?”
“I got wind that Junior Timmerman found out about the bite and has gone courting. And he’s pulling out all the stops.”
Tugging at his hair, Dustin swallowed hard, piecing together the big picture. Junior must smell money and opportunity. Dustin let out a bone-weary sigh, good intentions flying out the window. With Junior forcing his hand, he needed to talk to Seth tonight and tell him everything before Junior did. He dialed Irene’s home phone number from memory to ensure they were still on for tonight, only to receive a message: “The number you have dialed has been disconnected.”
“Shit!” he exclaimed. “It’s disconnected and I didn’t even get Seth’s cell phone number.”
The tight pursing of Monica’s lips relaxed somewhat. “I have it.” “You do? How did you get it?”
Monica rolled her eyes heavenward. “Duh. I had his phone, remember?”
“What?” Dustin stared at Monica in disbelief. “You checked out his phone while you had it? Why that’s… that’s….”
A perfectly groomed eyebrow arched over Monica’s right eye. “Sneaky and underhanded? Guilty as charged. However, since we’re dealing with Junior, who’d seize every advantage, one of us needs to be willing to take the less than noble approach.”
As disturbing as her logic was, Dustin found it hard to argue with. “So, Mr. Morally Upright, do you want his phone number or not?”
“I do.”
“Check your phone listing, under ‘Asshole’.” With a faux sweet grin, Monica spun on her heel and tromped out of the office, leaving Dustin in awe and slightly afraid of his assistant—but exceedingly glad she was on his side.
DUSTINhadn’t fidgeted this much since his one lone attempt to date a female, a hormone-ridden angstfest thereafter referred to as the senior prom. At least tonight he didn’t have his anxious father lecturing him on taking precautions during any sexual encounters he might have planned for his date, a lovely young woman whose only amorous adventures for later involved another girl. Dustin would have rather dated her brother anyway.
He fretted, checking his hair in the mirror, more a stall tactic than actual concern over his appearance. How did you tell the man you’d been having sex with, “Oh, yeah, I get furry once a month, more often if the mood hits, isn’t that a hoot?” Then waiting for the right opportunity to add, “Oh, did I mention you might get furry too? Remember the sweet little receptionist at the office? Well, seems she followed a snoot full ofeau demacaroni pie to your house, hunting a nibble and—can you believe it?—bit you instead! Have you ever heard anything so doggone hilarious?”
