Chapter Four

 

 

WHEN MITCH walked in the door, Leo was making margaritas.

“Oh shit,” he drawled.

“Yeah,” Leo said dully and pressed the button to whizz the ice into slush.

Mitch delayered, draping a voluminous, diaphanous scarf over the antique hatstand he’d found in a dumpster, or so the story went.

“What happened?”

“He’s straight, Mitch,” Leo said. He turned back to the processor and decanted his margarita slush into two tall glasses that had already been rimmed with salt. A wedge of lime went into each before he passed one to Mitch and lifted his own in a toast.

“Cheers,” Mitch said, accepting the glass and clinking it against Leo’s.

“So very, very straight. Cheers.”

The margarita provided a good hit of tequila right where Leo needed it.

“Come tell Auntie Mitch what happened,” Mitch said. Leo followed him to the living room and slumped onto the sofa. He was wearing baggy pajama pants and an old tank, drinking alcohol at four on a Saturday afternoon. It was the height of desperation.

“We went for coffee,” Leo said, then paused to slurp at his cocktail. “Fuck. Brain freeze.”

Mitch laughed. “Coffee date?”

“I’m not calling it a date. I wouldn’t dare. He’d probably have an aneurism.”

“But he’s your soul mate,” Mitch said dramatically. “Your one. Your only. The one who was made just for you.”

“He’s older than me. Plus, he’s the werewolf, so technically I was made for him.”

“Ugh, even better. It’s so romantic.”

“Actually, it’s a combination of biology, evolution, metaphysics, and astrology, if I’m being an asshole about it.”

“Don’t ruin it for me. I’m probably one of those people who will never find mine. I just know it. I can feel it in my waters.”

Leo snorted with laughter. “And fate. Which, you know, people think is actually just a blanket term for all of the above.” He slurped again. “But why?” he moaned. “Why do I have to put up with this straight frat bro bullshit? Am I a bad person? Do I deserve this?”

“Leo, you’re practically saintly,” Mitch said. “You work with sick kids, for fuck’s sake.”

“Why him, then? Why not some nice, simple guy who I could immediately click with and we could start planning our lives together?”

Mitch rolled his eyes. Leo caught the gesture and scowled at him.

“What?” Leo demanded.

“You’d never be satisfied with that.”

“With what?”

“A nice, easy life,” Mitch said. “That’s what you think you want. But you’re wrong.”

“I am?”

“You are,” he said sagely. “You’d be so bored with that. You don’t want some bullshit heteronormative husband, two kids, and a Labrador scenario.”

“I do,” Leo insisted. He downed the rest of the margarita and wondered how long he’d wait before making another one. Probably not long. “I really do. Not yet, though. In ten years’ time, maybe, when I’m all set up in my career and things are awesome and I’m ready for babies.”

“He’s yours for a reason, babe. Maybe you found him too soon. Especially if you just ran straight into him. Maybe you were supposed to wait a few more years until he grew out of the dude-bro phase and accepted his bisexuality. He’s a wolf, so he’s stubborn.”

Leo laughed at that. “Is that so?”

“Pssh. It’s a stereotype for a reason.”

“I don’t think he is, though,” Leo insisted. “I really don’t think he is even a little bit bi. I think—as far as he’s concerned—he’s one hundred percent straight. What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?”

“Convince him otherwise,” Mitch said with a sly smile.

Leo groaned and tipped his head back. “I don’t know if I have the energy for that.”

“Come work with me tonight.”

“No.”

“Leonardo.”

“Mitchell.” Leo scowled. “Not right now.”

“This is exactly the sort of thing you need. Look, go take a nap. I’ll wake you up in a couple hours. That gives you plenty of time to take a shower and wax your bikini line.”

“I’m a professional,” Leo insisted. “I can’t be seen cage dancing by any one of my patients’ family. I could be fired.”

“Which is why tonight is so perfect,” Mitch said. He hauled himself out of his chair, grabbed his satchel, and pulled two masks from it. “Tonight is superhero night at Flair. All the dancers are wearing masks. I’m being Spider-Man because, hello, Peter Parker is the cutest twink of them all.”

He had shiny metallic booty shorts with a spiderweb pattern that matched the red-and-white eye mask. He also had a pair of leather shorts with studs on the ass and a black Batman mask.

“You can be Batman. We can comb some of that wash-out stuff through your hair to make it darker,” Mitch continued. “It’ll look good on you.”

“I’m not the Batman type,” Leo said, even though he could feel himself starting to crack. And if he was cracking, Mitch was noticing. That was just how Mitch worked. “Batman is… butch.”

“Bitch, please.” Mitch sighed and dug further into his bag. “Ooh, I have Green Lantern? You could rock that.”

“Green Lantern sucks.” Leo knew he was sulking now.

“Do not test my patience, child. Fine, I’m putting Brad in Batman because, holy pecs, Batman.” He giggled at his own joke. “How about Hawkeye? You look good in purple.”

Leo sniffed. “I do look good in purple.”

“And I still have that cupid bow and arrow set from Valentine’s,” Mitch said, snapping his fingers at Leo. “Perfect.”

“Fine,” Leo said and hauled himself to his feet. “But I’m taking my nap first.”

 

 

LEO WASN’T entirely sure how Mitch earned his money. He seemed to do anything between two and five jobs, depending on the season, and Leo was pretty sure at least one of those jobs was in the sex work industry. Mitch had never said so directly, but Leo was smart, and he took hints pretty well.

At first, he wasn’t sure if he was weirded out by the fact that his housemate was a sex worker. He tried to be a body-positive person who didn’t slut shame anyone for the sex they enjoyed. The reality was he worried, a lot, that Mitch was being exploited. There were a lot of nights when Mitch didn’t come home, and a lot more when he came home looking worse for wear. He had a tendency to attract seedy boyfriends and men who liked to use him, then toss him aside. As his friend, Leo tried to be there for him and pick up the pieces. If there was one werewolf trait Mitch embodied, it was that he could be a stubborn ass and hated accepting help.

One of the jobs that was definitely legit, and Mitch seemed to enjoy, was the club work. Mitch danced on podiums or stages at gay clubs, a gay strip club, and one werewolf exclusive club. Leo didn’t ask what happened in those clubs. He’d barely known they existed before he met Mitch, and from the few things Mitch told him, he didn’t want to know what happened inside.

When Mitch wasn’t dancing, he organized the dancers for the clubs, helped set up theme nights, and put everyone in the right costumes. When Leo had first moved back to Spokane after college, he was working on paying off his student debts, and the idea of earning a hundred dollars or more in one night was hella tempting.

He’d done it a few times and enjoyed every minute of it, but his day job was incredibly hectic, and he often found he didn’t have time to even go to clubs for fun, let alone to work.

Mitch still pulled him in from time to time, and Leo knew he looked different enough when he was dancing that it was almost impossible that anyone from the hospital would ever recognize him. The last club night he’d danced at was Heaven-and-Hell themed, and Mitch had made him up as a devil, spiking his hair and adding red to it, giving him horns and enough makeup that Leo barely recognized himself in the mirror.

Dancing was fun, it was easy, and it definitely counted as a workout. He was given free drinks, and more often than not, he ended the night with a hookup. There were worse jobs out there.

Leo went to Flair just for fun too, so he knew his way around. It was a gay bar that was openly werewolf friendly. The city was small enough that excluding anyone wasn’t good for business, and the gay community and werewolf community often stood shoulder to shoulder. There was enough overlap in the discriminations against them to make an unspoken sort of truce a welcome thing.

The Hawkeye costume was getting Leo plenty of attention. Not quite so much as Batman Brad or supertwink Spider-Man, but maybe more than the ten or so other guys on the podiums. Mitch had a whole array of costumes that were kept in the wardrobe department of Flair, though most of them were short shorts made of leather, latex, or shiny, clingy fabric. Plus a whole bunch of what was basically bondage gear and various accessories.

The purple shorts Leo actually owned. That was what happened when he went shopping with Mitch.

It was almost one in the morning when Leo signaled to Mitch he was going to take a break. Mitch nodded, and Leo slipped down from the podium and to the bathroom. He got groped plenty on the way, but that was fine. He didn’t mind.

Once his bladder was emptied, Leo detoured to the bar for more water. The bottle up on his platform had gone warm over the course of the evening, and dancing was hot work. A cute guy openly ogled him as Leo jumped the line and waved a bartender over. He knew some of the bar staff, they were good guys, and he quickly got served two ice-cold bottles of water.

The cute guy had edged over while Leo waited, and watched with a smirk as Leo drained the first bottle. Leo wasn’t sure, but he guessed the guy was a werewolf.

“Can I buy you a drink?” the cute guy yelled.

Leo nodded. He was drunk. Not ridiculously so; he was pretty sure with a decent night’s sleep he’d be okay in the morning. He promised himself he’d stop drinking alcohol after this.

The guy ordered two shots of clear liquid and pushed one to Leo.

“Cheers.”

It was vodka, with a smoky, orangey aftertaste that Leo decided he liked very much. He nodded his thanks to the guy. The guy was handsome, Latino, with a pouty bottom lip. He very casually raised his hand and brushed his knuckles over Leo’s neck.

“Are you taken?” he said—well, shouted over the music.

“I… no. I’m not.”

Apparently his answer was hesitant enough for the guy to call him on it.

“Sure?”

“He’s straight.”

The guy raised his eyebrows. “Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“That sucks.” He smirked slowly. “I’m not, in case you were wondering. I could make you feel better.”

Leo thought about it for a moment. Then another.

“Yeah,” he shouted over the music. “That sounds good.”

He never got the guy’s name. Names weren’t necessary. They exchanged blowjobs in the bathroom; then Leo went back to work on the podium. It was good. The combination of alcohol and sexual release let him be looser, freer, and that was exactly what he needed. The responsibilities of his day job would come flooding back soon enough. For one night, he was going to not think about anything at all.

 

 

THE NEXT morning Leo regretted everything, especially when he woke up to a reminder that he had agreed to lunch with his parents.

He often forgot, which was the reason for the reminder in the first place, but he really, really could have done without it this particular weekend.

Mitch was already in the kitchen when Leo dragged himself in there, because Mitch was a supernatural being who survived on about four hours of sleep a night. That wasn’t a werewolf thing; it was a Mitch thing, so Leo felt his hatred of that particular trait was justified.

At least Mitch had made coffee.

“Did you have fun last night?” Mitch asked as Leo grunted a greeting and dragged himself to the coffeepot.

Leo sipped, winced, then went to the fridge to add cream to his mug.

“It was all right.”

“You had sex with Michael Cortez.”

Leo carefully shut the fridge door and picked up his mug of coffee. “He blew me. It wasn’t exactly a romantic interlude. I didn’t even get his name.”

“Mm-hmm,” Mitch drawled. “I never thought you had a thing for werewolves.”

“I don’t,” Leo said quickly. “I mean, I don’t have anything against them, but I don’t seek out werewolves specifically. I’m not a chaser.”

Mitch laughed at that. “I know you’re not, baby. Jackson would be able to smell it on you, by the way.” An edge of cattiness had crept into his voice. “So if you’re going to do that on the regular, make sure you shower well before you see him.”

“You can smell sex?”

Leo had never thought to ask before.

“Not sex specifically. But he left his scent all over you. It’s super possessive and totally gross, especially if you didn’t consent to it.”

Leo frowned. “Do you do that to me?”

“Only when I want to warn someone off you,” Mitch said sweetly. He sipped his coffee again and flicked over a page in his magazine. “I’m just letting you know. For future reference.”

“Thanks,” Leo muttered. He decided to take his coffee into the shower with him.

Feeling self-conscious, Leo scrubbed his body with exfoliating shower gel and shampooed his hair twice. He wasn’t intentionally oblivious about werewolf culture, and living with one had definitely helped combat the general ignorance, but there was no denying Leo had no clue when it came to certain things.

 

 

LEO ARRIVED at the restaurant only a few minutes early, which was late in his parents’ eyes. They were waiting for him with a bottle of wine already open, and he quickly made the decision not to share it with them.

“Leo,” his mom said, standing to hug him.

“Hi. Sorry I’m late.”

“No, it’s fine.”

He clapped his father on the shoulder and took a seat at the table. The restaurant was an old family favorite, an Irish pub that served great comfort food. The interior was warm and inviting, with wood-paneled walls and deep green leather booths.

Leo ordered a sparkling water and leaned back in his seat, happy to let his parents catch him up on what was happening in their world.

Since he’d moved back home after college, Leo appreciated the time he got to spend with his mom and dad more. It was easy to talk with them about local politics, their favorite TV shows, and the new car his dad wanted to buy. But an insistent tugging in his stomach kept bringing him back to a secret he never thought he’d have to keep from them.

“Did you hear?”

He was drawn back into the conversation by his mom’s gossipy exclamation.

“Hmm?”

“You remember Mr. Beckett? He was your high school geography teacher, but he became the principal a few years back.”

“I remember,” Leo said. How could he forget? Mr. Beckett was one of the young, cool teachers in school.

“This isn’t dinner table conversation,” Leo’s dad interrupted, looking stern. Well, he always looked stern; it was one of his few expressions.

“What’s not?”

“He’s only gone and eloped with some werewolf girl half his age,” his mom half whispered, paying his dad no mind.

“Lindsey. She’s in her twenties.”

“And he’s in his forties! She hasn’t been neutered either, and there’s all sorts of rumors flying around that he’s going to have her bite him.” She snapped her teeth a few times for effect.

“Mom, you shouldn’t call it neutered.” Leo squirmed. “It’s offensive. They’re not dogs.”

“They might as well be. Can you imagine, though? A werewolf principal at one of the city’s best schools. Apparently parents have started transferring their children to other districts already.”

She raised her wineglass again, seemingly happy to have passed on this juicy tidbit of information.

“I think they should be neutralized as a matter of course,” Leo’s dad said. He’d finished his steak pie and pushed the plate away. Leo silently begged that the waitress wouldn’t notice before Leo had a chance to change the topic of conversation.

“Dad….”

“I know you’re part of the generation that thinks we can all just sing ‘Kumbaya’ and get along, Leo. But werewolves are inherently dangerous, and we should take responsibility, as a society, to make sure they’re unable to hurt people. The operation is relatively painless, and it makes things so much simpler.”

Mitch had had the operation to be “neutralized” a few years before Leo met him, removing the two venomous sacs from his jawbone. The werewolf had to be in their wolf form for the operation, so it was often done by vets who didn’t know nearly enough about werewolf physiology. Some ended up scarred for life. But post-operation, werewolves couldn’t hurt or turn a human with a bite. Leo hadn’t ever asked Mitch about it personally; it had been written on the contract he’d signed when he started renting the room in Mitch’s apartment.

Leo didn’t hold strong opinions about neutralization either way. He’d always thought it was a wolf’s decision whether or not they had the operation. It had a murky history, though, in eugenics, with humans experimenting on werewolves they considered subhuman.

“Did you hear the Spokane Symphony is putting on a whole series of Tchaikovsky’s symphonies next year?” Leo asked, desperate to change the conversation. His dad rolled his eyes at Leo’s lack of subtlety but took the bait anyway. Music was neutral ground in their family.

“Do you want tickets?”

“We should all go,” Leo said.

“Could I help y’all with some dessert?”

Leo looked up at the pretty server with curly hair.

“I’ll take a peach cobbler,” he said, smiling at her.

From her expression, Leo was pretty sure she’d overheard their conversation and wasn’t happy.

He felt like shit.