Dallas had disappeared into the wind. I hadn't seen her in almost a week, and I wondered if Jean had scared her off. I wouldn't have blamed her for fleeing, keeping her distance from a claimed girl. That look in Jean's eye, that look that promised death, it still made me shiver to think about it days later. However intrepid, for all the bravado Dallas had shown, she was no match for Jean.
"Lissa." Diane came out of the stock room, scanned over the paper in her hand. "Did you remember to order the collars on Tuesday?"
It was Friday afternoon, the day was winding down after being uncharacteristically busy. I'd barely gotten the chance to sit down for more than five minutes. With Camille away on vacation, Raymond and I had to hold the fort while Diane did whatever managers did in their offices.
"Yep, just like you asked. I had to use one of our back up suppliers, though. Paws and Friends were out of stock."
"Hmm, that's probably why the delivery's late." She hadn't looked up once during the brief exchange, then turned and drifted back into her office. That was how it had been all week.
Raymond brought out a couple of coffees for us.
"Ray, is it just me or does Diane seem stressed lately? More than usual?"
"It's not just you. She's under a lot of pressure at the moment. Bergman-Keller, one of our biggest donors, announced last week that they were pulling funding from the shelter."
"God, that's terrible. What does that mean for the place?" I didn't ask the central question on my mind, because it would have sounded selfish. But what did that mean for me and my job? Wasn't the rule of thumb last in, first out?
"Nothing good." He sipped his coffee, then added, "We won't be able to take in as many animals as before, that's a given."
Okay, I couldn't hold my peace any longer. He seemed to be saying everything but what I needed to hear.
"And us? Does it mean layoffs? I really can't afford to lose this job. I just signed a six-month lease." So this was what independence looked like? It hadn't even started yet and I was already failing miserably!
"Relax, Lissa. We're not there yet. There are still options, other avenues to secure funding. The fat lady's still getting her hair and makeup done." He gave me a smile that was supposed to reassure me, but it didn't.
We were in the age of cutbacks, downsizing and wide-scale unemployment. No one was immune to it. I didn't like my chances.
Contrary to how it may have first appeared, I really did care about the fate of the animals – the ones that would be turned away from the shelter's doors. Greenfields Home For the Paw was one of the best in the state, with the nicest facilities, and a staff that really cared. Some of the state-funded ones were horrific, and regularly made local news for their ill-treatment of the animals. I wanted this place to stay open and available.
"And it's the rest of us that need to worry. You and your big mansion and your rich sugar-mama will be just fine."
He was right, though I found the thought a little disconcerting. This was exactly what I'd been trying to get away from, the dependence on Jean for my survival. Even though we'd been getting on (and getting it on) much better these past few days, my mind hadn't changed about the move. But it still didn't negate the fact that, if worst came to worst and I lost my job, I would still have a roof over my head. A great roof, by anyone's standards. Not everyone was fortunate enough to have a multimillionaire girlfriend to take care of them.
This did make me think. All I ever had to do was ask, and she would give without questioning. She knew how much the job meant to me, how much the animals did. What if I asked her to donate to the shelter? Keeping my private life and social life separate had always been my goal, but maybe not asking was selfish.
"How much are we talking here? To maintain the status quo?"
He frowned at my question. "I don't know. Diane has the figures. Why?"
"Just wondering."
"Are you thinking of asking your rich girlfriend for a donation?" His eyebrows jumped in the most lecherous manner. What was it with these people? "Did you guys make up? Is that why you haven't come out with us for drinks this whole week? You've been "making up"?"
I shook my head in disbelief, struggling not to laugh. "Why are you guys always so concerned with my love life?"
"Because ours is drab. Duh."
"We're...we're getting on, all right. That's all I'm prepared to say." Because if I said any more, the conversation would become utterly NSFW.
The truth was, ever since the night at the restaurant, Jean and I had spent every night together. Rediscovering ourselves, making up for all the time we'd lost while we were at odds. I'd fallen asleep in her arms six days in a row, just like the good old days. I'd had so much sex the past week that I didn't even know who I was when I wasn't doing it. With Jean, one round was never enough.
"Now that's just unfair." He pushed his lower lip out, sulking like a kid. I threw a soft toy at him. "Are you really thinking about asking her? Could she afford it?"
Affording it wasn't the issue. Asking her for anything was, since I'd declared my independence. Just saying it wasn't enough – I had to prove it.
"If we can't get any other funding, it's a last resort."
I waited until we'd finished our coffees and changed topic before I decided to pick his brain. I didn't want him making any connections between what I asked and my relationship with Jean.
"Have there been any new developments with the attack here the other day?" My tone was casual.
"Not really. Like I said before, everyone knows who did it, we just can't prove it."
"Is that something that werewolves do a lot?"
"Unfortunately. Those savages think it's funny. Most of the time they hunt in the woods, away from humans. But hunting's hard work, I guess. Some of them don't want to work for their food." He spoke with such bitterness, I was in two minds about pushing him for more details. But I wanted to know more, and outside of reading books – which I had no desire to do – he was my only source of information. Well, outside of Dallas and Jean. The former, I didn't think I would see again; and the latter, I didn't want knowing I was interested in learning more about the race.
"So they're trouble-makers? Do they ever attack humans?"
"Rarely. And if so, not because of hunger. Not like the fangers."
"Then for what reason, if not to feed?"
He shrugged. "Who knows? Self-preservation, maybe? Or for sport. It's very rare, though. I haven't heard anything about a Were-human attack since I was in high school."
So they were the lesser of two evils? The way Jean had reacted, I would never have guessed.
"Why are you asking so many questions about them?" he asked, eying me suspiciously.
"Well, I'm living here, aren't I? I need to know what I'm up against."
"You mostly don't have anything to worry about with them. Fangers are the ones you really have to be wary of. Watch your neck at night and all that."
I had no desire to listen to him slander vampires, not when he would have happily accepted the money from one to keep the shelter open. But it seemed to him that both races were interchangeable – things to be avoided.
From the street, the ground-shaking thunder of an approaching motorcycle got my attention. I turned to look out the window, to see if I could catch sight of the rider, to see if it was Dallas. When the vehicle sped past, and I was certain the shape of the bike and the color of the helmet weren't consistent with hers, I slunk back from the window, feeling stupid. I'd been doing this all week; every time a motorcycle passed, I almost broke my neck to see if it was her. It never was, and each time I promised would be the last. It never was.
"Is there any point asking if you're coming out with us for drinks later?" Raymond said a couple of minutes later.
"No, I'm gonna head straight home."
"Of course you are." And there was that suggestive smirk again.