Badgering his possum into wakefulness, he dialed the force down to its lowest setting, taking a wrinkled hand in his newly roughened one. He gritted his teeth at the sudden jolt that jarred nearly as much as a swing from the ax landing on the tree trunk. Seth interpreted the gesture as the equivalent of the woman trying to out-squeeze his grip. He raised his own energy level a notch or two. Still the woman frowned, hanging onto his hand.
“That all you got, boy?” A gimlet eye accompanied the matron’s taunt.
Seth raised both an eyebrow and his metaphysical signal. A dreamy smile appeared on the old woman’s face. He continued to amp until the woman released his hand, collapsing against Monica with an undignified giggle.
Through a nearly toothless grin, the woman proclaimed, “You can come back and visit me anytime.”
Monica waited until they reached the main road before clapping Seth on the shoulder. “Well done. With Widow Pickens goes the rest of the Pickens clan.”
“Do you mind explaining what you just said in English, please?” “Sixteen Junior supporters down, about fifty to go.”
For the next few days, Seth worked on the house every morning, grateful to Junior and Michael for seeming to have forgotten him, and visited passel members every evening with Monica. He’d been practicing his cooking skills with the help of his aunt’s cookbooks, and Monica always managed to show up in time for dinner. “No offense,” he asked over shepherd’s pie one evening, “but why doesn’t Dustin go with me occasionally?”
Monica swallowed down a mouthful of peas, carrots, and mashed potatoes. “It wouldn’t do to show favoritism right now. Rest assured he’s doing his part.”
Seth had been wondering if perhaps Dustin suffered secondthought syndrome. He missed the guy—not merely the sex, but the quiet moments, the “us against the world” camaraderie begun many years ago as kids, and apparently still alive and kicking.
“Once you’re installed as head of the passel, he’ll come back ’round again.”
More and more, Seth worried if taking over the passel was the right thing to do. Two months ago, he was hanging out in Chicago, giving doormats everywhere a bad name. Overnight, he’d become some kind of big badsomething,with a destiny, purpose, and a kick-ass female sidekick, though Monica might argue the point of who played second fiddle to whom.
“Who are we visiting tonight?” he asked, hoping it wouldn’t be the Widow Pickens, who seemed to have developed an addiction to Seth’s handshakes.
“The Martins. A young couple with a new baby.” A worry crease appeared between her eyebrows. “For the life of me, I can’t figure out how to impress them. They’re comfortably financed, and don’t seem to need anything.”
Seth’s ears perked up. The great Monica didn’t have a plan? And he did? What started as a smug smile bloomed into the proverbial possum-eating-briars grin he’d heard about but had never fully understood until then. “Leave it to me.”
Two hours later found the baby Martin giggling and cooing while Seth snapped pictures. The fake grin on Monica’s face showed signs of strain. Taking pity, Seth wrapped up the impromptu photo shoot. “I’ll upload these at home and e-mail them to you,” he told the beaming parents. “If you’d like, I’ll also send the web address of a guy who’ll give you a discount on an eleven-by-twenty canvas. It’s been nice meeting you, but we should go now. Monica has an early morning at the office.”
Back in the truck, Monica declared, “Those were the last of Junior’s direct supporters. Now, we need to solidify your claim with the rest of the passel. And we’re running out of time.”
“What do you mean ‘running out of time’?”
“Only a few more days until the next full moon.”
Idly caressing his camera case, Seth thought back to the happy parents, and the three posing possums he now recognized as the Johnson boys. It couldn’t be that easy to impress people, could it?
“Monica? Is there a church social hall or something I can borrow for an afternoon? Set up a studio?”
Chapter 20
THEYcame from far and wide—singles, couples, families. Against a background of the Jordan River painted on the wall of the church basement, Seth set up his equipment. He’d driven all the way to Athens to rent reflectors and other necessary items he hadn’t brought with him.
Each subject posed and preened before stepping behind a curtain to change, returning a moment later in animal form to pose and preen some more.
“What a stroke of genius,” Seth heard someone purr into his ear. He looked up into Dustin’s welcome smile. “Everyone in town turned out today, didn’t they?”
“I’m not sure, but I’ve been snapping pictures forever.” Seth grinned like a lovesick schoolboy, unable to conceal the thrill of simply being in the same room with Dustin. “What are you doing here?”
“Why, I’vecome to take you to lunch, if you’d like.”
Seth glanced around, grateful to see his last appointment shuffling out and no one left waiting.
“Monica told everyone you needed a break. Shall we?” Dustin extended his arm.
Seth checked his cameras before packing them away. “I suppose we shouldn’t be seen together.” Right now, though, staring at the object of his nightly fantasies, he couldn’t quite recall why.
“We won’t be.” Seth cocked a questioning brow. Dustin answered with a grin. “C’mon, truck’s waiting.”
