Loving Paws Page 14

  The first couple of shots I enjoyed. I drank and made idle chit-chat with the rest of the patrons at the bar without really knowing what we were talking about. I laughed at their jokes, hoping that they would lighten my mood, but nothing seemed to help--nothing, of course, for the bottle.

  “Easy there, Luce,” one of them warned. I couldn’t tell who it was. Already the edges of my vision were starting to blur. “That’s some awfully strong stuff you’re imbibing.”

  I scoffed. “No shit it is. Otherwise why would I be drinking it?”

  “Don’t make us go and tattle on you with your cousin,” another one teased. “I’m sure D’Marcus wouldn’t like this one bit.”

  He was right about that. If D’Marcus saw me now, no doubt he’d be disappointed me in. Sure, he knew I was going through hell right now, but his patience was not limitless. Unfortunately, the thought of him losing faith in me only made me want to drink some more, because as disappointed as D’Marcus may have been, it was nowhere near how much I despised myself at that moment.

  There was still more than half of the bottle left and I was already feeling tipsy. There was no way I’d be able to finish it, but damn if I wasn’t prepared to try.

  The guys at the counter didn’t want to talk to me anymore. I guessed I was drunker than I thought, and maybe I was annoying them with the nonsense I blabbered on about. That didn’t matter to me too much. Just as long as someone was talking, and I didn’t have to be alone with my thoughts, I was content. It was why I had come to the Snared Hare when I could have just as easily stayed home and knocked back the last few Blue Moons I had in my fridge.

  “What’s up with him?” I heard someone ask. They whispered, but they weren’t as quiet as they thought they were. “He’s hitting that stuff pretty hard.”

  “Leave him alone. He’s just going through some stuff. It’s nobody’s business but his own,” someone else replied.

  They were talking about me. Well, let them talk. I figured it didn’t matter what they said. Soon, I would be too wasted to even care.

  My stomach turned. The memory of what I had come here to forget refused to fade. If anything, the way the absinthe was messing with my mind, it only seemed to bring more stuff up to the surface. All around me, the smell of Blue Moon triggered a memory that had long laid dormant within me. It was, of course, of Caleb.

  When he approached me in the hotel bar, he somehow remembered that I loved Blue Moon. How--and why--he managed to do that had been on my mind ever since. Caleb left when we were still teenagers, long before I became a regular here. The only way he could have known that was if he remembered that time we stole from Erik’s stash. It was a humorless story, one that he had no reason to commit to memory, other than the brief, stupid thrill we got.

  We stole one can of beer and shared it in the woods behind the old cabins. Naturally, Caleb hated it, thought it tasted like dirty water. I thought it was great, and I drank the rest hoping it would give me the courage I needed to kiss him.

  It didn’t, though. I felt the warmth of his body against my skin as I leaned in towards him, so close to kissing him. The memory of that moment just before I pulled away filled me with a profound sadness. My young mind still full of hopes for the love I prayed would bloom. Perhaps I thought there would be many more chances to kiss him in the future. Perhaps I wanted something more special than a semi-tipsy kiss to be the first true expression of my love. If only I had known then the trouble that was in store…

  Caleb remembered that night. I didn’t think people remembered the nights when they were awkwardly almost-kissed, especially when the real thing a few nights later had been so much better, but Caleb wasn’t like most people. I’ve had years to figure that out.

  I couldn’t even taste the absinthe anymore. It didn’t even burn or make me feel sick. All it did was make me feel warm and numb. With every shot my thoughts got hazy, blending memories, emotions, and daydreams together until I could no longer tell which was which. My mind and body grew further and further apart until they were fully separate; I felt like I was watching myself sink through the lens of a bad dream.

  Someone tapped me on the shoulder, and I was so sluggish I didn’t even react to it. “Luce, it’s time to go home, buddy,” someone I only vaguely recognized said. Their voice was warbled and distant, as though I was hearing them from beneath some gigantic body of water.

  “You’re gonna make yourself sick carrying on like this, Lucien,” came yet another voice.

  “You gotta hang in there, man. Things will turn out all right. You just gotta have the patience for it.”

  Damn, I wanted to say something back. I wished I had the coordination to turn back to everyone and tell them to leave me alone. I could handle myself just fine. I knew what I was doing, what I was feeling. It’s not easy being the dependable guy all the time. Sometimes I needed to let myself wallow in self pity. Didn’t everyone?

  Maybe I did try to tell them. Maybe I did turn back in the stool and was so dizzy I stumbled off and someone had to catch me so I didn’t fall flat on my face. Maybe I did tell them to leave me in peace, but my voice was too slurred with drunkenness that nobody understood a single word. Maybe I reached for the bottle of absinthe as some of them tried to lead me away from it, and maybe it fell and shattered all over the floor.

  Maybe all of that did happen, and maybe it didn’t. I was too far gone to know.

  It was a miracle I made it home. I walked around for a while, somehow managing to stay upright despite my absinthe-induced clumsiness. All at once I felt as light as a feather and as heavy as a stone. There was no way I could have gotten any distance from the bar, but it felt like I had traveled impossibly far in that short time.

  It was only when the sun began to set that I found myself headed towards home. I stumbled a few times and nearly tripped over what was probably a clump of dirt or a rock. From the direction of the bar, I could faintly hear someone calling my name, but I was eventually too far to hear them any longer. Who knew--and who cared? I didn’t. I didn’t care about anything anymore. My soul was worn down from previously caring so much.

  The steps. My keys. With effort I managed to figure them out and made it inside my house.

  I was so wasted I couldn’t go much further. My body was ready to give out on me. The trip home was enough to give me motion-sickness, and I could feel bile rising up from the back of my throat. I made it to the den, and then inched my way towards my recliner. Punk meowed for my attention, but I had to ignore her for now.

  What good was it being able to feel happiness and love if it could bring you down like this?

  Surrounded by the peaceful quiet of my house, and trapped inside the tempest of my own heart, I fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

  It was late into the next morning when I woke up. My body was aching everywhere and my head was pounding. It took me a moment to adjust to the dim light of the den, which to my hungover eyes seemed blindly, painfully bright. I waved my hand in front of my face, and I was surprised that didn’t have double vision. Though I was by no means feeling well, the monster hangover I had been expecting did not seem too bad.

  Slowly, I sat up and looked around the room. As it turned out, I made a pretty big mess of things when I came in drunk out of my mind last night. Records, a piece of wall art, and even Punk’s food bowl were strewn about the place. When I tried to stand up, it took me a few tries to get it right. I felt clumsy, almost like I needed to learn how to walk again.

  At the sound of me getting up, Punk came rushing into the den to demand food.

  “You damned cat. Can’t you ever give me a break?” I asked sarcastically. I bent down and reached for her bowl, which excited her further.

  You never had to worry about a cat leaving you just as long as you had food.

  I let her eat on the kitchen table again and sat to drink some day-old coffee. “Enjoy this while it lasts, Punk, because guess what? I’m finally gonna get my shit together again.”

  Sh
e looked at me for only a second before she went back to devouring her kibble. Why did I try to talk to this cat so much? Well. She was a halfway decent listener, I guess.

  After a long, hot shower the worst of the hangover was done. I came out feeling revitalized and fresh. I covered my hips in a towel and went out into the hallway to survey the damage I had done. My senses still felt sharp, but finding clean clothes in my messy bedroom took me a lot longer than I’d like to admit.

  Then I was awake, clean, and dressed, and had nothing to do but sit around at home. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to handle that again. For a while, I paced back and forth in the hallway. I tried to distract myself but wound up endlessly thinking about solutions to problems I couldn’t solve by myself.

  Punk, perhaps thinking I was playing a game with her, started to follow me but quickly gave up after she realized I wasn’t going to let her attack my shoelaces.

  It soon became clear that there was nothing I could do about Caleb now, so I might as well try to forget about him. I remembered the job at the construction site and how bad I messed up before. Getting back to work was a good idea. I needed to stay busy, and everyone must have been getting sick of me not pulling my weight around here.

  I pulled out my phone and dialed D’Marcus. He picked up almost immediately. “Hey, man. Need any help with the school?” I asked.

  “Always do. You up for it?” he asked, his voice pleasantly surprised. “I need some guys to do the sisalation membrane once we finish building the frame. You know how to do both those things, right?”

  “Yeah, I know. I’ll be over in a few,” I said. The memory of the cement I failed to bring was still bothering me. “Do you need me to bring over any supplies? I promise I’ll remember it this time.”

  D’Marcus gave a light-hearted chuckle. “Nothing much, but if you got a spare drill or two we could probably use it.”

  “You got it,” I replied, making a mental note not to forget this time. When I hung up, I repeated the phrase over and over in my head until I went out back to my shed and took the tools out from their protective steel boxes. I probably looked crazy muttering to myself as I loaded the drills up in the passenger seat of my truck, but I wasn’t about to mess up and let myself look stupid again in front of my cousin.

  I tried to psyche myself up all the way over. The hair on my arms bristled in anticipation for the busy day of work ahead. God, I had not realized how much I missed that feeling of productivity. It had been too long since I last worked the way that I used to, the days and evenings full of sweat and grit. I knew it would feel good to get back to my old life, before this whole mess began.

  A couple of the guys waved at me as they saw my truck coming in. I waved back, grateful that they did not seem upset at my prolonged absence. Once I unloaded the drills and got clued in about the work plans for the day, I set off.

  Everything was going well--at least for a while. In almost no time we had the foundation down and the main wooden structure of the building complete. I hauled sacks of concrete over my shoulders, pushed wheelbarrows, and sawed planks of wood until my arms were trembling with exhaustion. When the others stopped to take their breaks, I pushed on through, never allowing myself a moment alone with my thoughts.

  “Easy, Lucien,” I heard Zan call from somewhere behind me. “You’re gonna hurt yourself sawing stuff up that fast.”

  “And the rest of us can’t keep up,” said the shifter in charge of the cement mixer. “Don’t wanna mess with the flow, do you?”

  I ignored them. My pace was good, and best of all, my mind was practically blank, like I was working on autopilot. There was nothing more important to me at that moment, nothing I cared about other than getting the next bit done and moving onto the next job.

  At some point, near the end of the day, my body had enough. I was carrying another sack of cement when my knees started to buckle. My legs shook as I struggled to bring the bag towards the site, and if someone hadn’t noticed me, it would have fallen on my foot. I was so committed to my work that I didn’t even realize the amount of pain I was in until I could not get up off my knees again.

  “You did more than enough today, Luce,” said D’Marcus as he and Zan got me to my feet. “Let’s get you home.”

  Before I knew it, I alone was in the prison of my own house again. With nothing more to do, I went back to the kitchen and laid my head against the table, so worried about the bill that I couldn’t even think straight.

  18

  Caleb

  I didn’t sleep last night. My body still ached from my attempt at shifting two nights ago, and my sleep schedule was all over the place due to my pregnancy hormones and the discomfort caused by my rapidly changing body. Anxiety over today’s vote had been stressing me out so badly I couldn’t find a moment’s peace. Instead, I spent the night reading news stories and opinion pieces from both sides of the debate until my eyes hurt.

  That was a mistake. The absolute last thing I needed was something to make me feel even more insecure than I already did. Whatever. One night of reading troll posts and articles full of every argument I’ve heard before wasn’t about to dissuade me. It was about time I stood by my convictions.

  Wasn’t it?

  My phone beeped. It looked like my driver was arriving soon, which meant I had even less time than I thought to get ready. Forcing myself out of bed, I threw open the mirrored doors of my closet and began looking for a decent suit. Unfortunately, my finest ones, the suits that made me look like I had any idea what I was doing, all fit a bit too snug around my midsection, and today didn’t seem like the best time to let the world know about my pregnancy.

  I pulled out a navy jacket that I had tailored to my exact measurements. The inner lining was silk; you could feel how fine and delicate the fabric was just by running your fingers through the sleeve. It was a favorite of mine, and it looked great with pretty much anything I wore--but could I wear it to the House of Representatives?

  Just as I suspected, it didn’t cover me up at all. In fact, it made me look huge.

  With a sigh I tossed it on my bed and dug through the closet for another jacket, all the while cursing myself for being so unprepared. By the time I managed to put together a decent-looking outfit, my driver had already called me twice. I gathered up all my papers and looked myself over in the mirror one last time.

  I certainly did look like I hadn’t slept. Hopefully, nobody would care. Though if today was going to finally start my career as a lawmaker, I had to learn to put up with crazy amounts of stress.

  “Good morning, Mr. Haust. My, it’s been a while since you last rode with me now, hasn’t it? How are you this morning?” asked my driver as I met him outside the apartment lobby. He sounded incredibly chipper this morning--almost annoyingly so.

  I muttered a reply and hoped it would be enough to satisfy him. We were both no strangers to the inane small-talk of the professional world, and I hoped he didn’t hold my curtness against me.

  “Are you excited? This must be an awfully big day for you,” he went on.

  If it hadn’t been for safety concerns, I would have totally driven myself. I tried to look engrossed in something I was reading on my phone, and thankfully, he took the hint. For the rest of the drive, neither of us said a single word to each other.

  My phone beeped again, this time with messages from a few supporters. Mayor Albright congratulated me on having come this far, and invited us to go to that fancy bar he knew again. People who donated to the campaign sent me their well wishes.

  But then I noticed Sarein had sent me something as well. I pressed on the notification to find a rambling series of texts:

  heyyy haust how are u doing???? looks like today is the big day, huh? lol i thought it would never come… it always felt like tomorrow tomorrow tomorrow something’s gonna change and then everything will be right or s/t. do u ever feel like that???

  anyway i cant make it today sorry. im too hungover to show my face in public and i dont want
u to look bad.. ur right about me having a drinking problem but i dont know how to deal with it. maybe its better if im not there b/c to tell u the truth idk what to believe in anymore i literally cant stop thinking about what u said the other night

  but i dont wanna stress u out. if u read this ill probably already be gone im thinking of going to my old pack land and seeing how everyones doing… i hope they dont hate me

  Good luck buddy thanks for everything………..

  Well. That was certainly unexpected. However, I didn’t have time to deal with it right now because my Andy just pulled into the House Chamber. By the looks of it, we were later than we thought. The road was clogged with shiny, expensive black cars carrying politicians and lobbyists, while the sidewalk was full of protestors for or against various bills.

  Some of them I recognized from the big protest on the highway.

  Thankfully, my driver had the foresight to take me to the closest point where security could see me. I suppose Andy could tell I was expecting, because he opened the door for me and helped me out when I was having some trouble. Before I went in, he gave his congratulations.

  Some ways ahead, I found a group of my coworkers. I wondered why they were all here, as most of them, like Sarein, didn’t actually have anything to do with the vote. In fact, I was one of the few people in our branch of the Human and Shifter Council whose voice actually meant anything around here. Their presence made me uncomfortable. If they were here to support me, I didn’t exactly appreciate it.

  I walked down the vast hallway leading into the main meeting room, the sounds of footsteps and camera shutters following me. I tried not to groan; the hearings hadn’t even started yet and already I had a pounding headache.

  Tyler chased after me, a legal pad in his hand. “Have you seen Mr. Appleton? Has he contacted you today, Mr. Haust? It’s not like him to be late.”

  “I don’t know where he is,” I said without bothering to pause. It wasn’t a lie. If Sarein really meant what he said, he could be heading anywhere in the country. I wondered where he was going, and if he would be okay on his own. The location of his home pack was still a mystery to me.