Werewolf Wedding(22)

“Huh,” I said. “I guess we better go check on her. Looks like she’s caught some kind of condition. Like those goats that start honking and then fall over?”

Jake nodded, though I’m not sure he listened to what I was saying. If he had been, there’s no reason he didn’t laugh at my joke, because it was a really good one. And with her shaking chin and look of utter disbelief, she did, in fact, resemble one of those goats. I don’t mean that in a bad way, goats are cute.

With a jolt, I realized that Jake was pulling me toward the studio – the jolt was from my arm reaching full extension and him inadvertently jerking me forward. I had to scramble to get my feet back underneath myself, but it worked out.

“What in the hell was that?” Jeannie asked as soon as we were back in my dusty studio’s office. “I feel like I just watched a nature documentary about bears fighting for territory. You guys could be bears, too,” she was just rattling because she was nervous. Thinking about it for a second, she did have a point.

“Big, muscled up, the hair,” I said. “I could see bears. But no, what the hell was that? And why did it happen here?”

Jake drew his mouth up in a snarl. “He – Dane – is trying to stick his nose into places it doesn’t belong. He’s trying to take over the family business after he booked it for five years to go... do whatever he was doing. And I think I’ve somehow put you right in the middle of all this. And I’m sorry.”

For a moment, I just sat there, staring at him and trying to process everything. “So,” I finally said. “How about that statue?”





-9-


“I know you said you’re not Dracula... but are you sure you aren’t some kind of royalty?”





-Delilah


––––––––

“What’s the big rush?” Jeannie was laying casually on my couch when I wandered out of the bathroom with my hair in a big wad on top of my head. “And why is there one curler in your hair?”

“Ugh, shit,” I swore, and pulled it out. My hair hung down wavy, except for that one sad loop where I’d left the curler. “I had a moment,” I said. “I thought maybe the curlers, and then I realized that I wasn’t going for Mad Men looks.”

“Oh yeah?” she said, turning on my television. “Coulda fooled me with that lipstick.” She laughed, and took a long swallow of Malbec from the bottle I had set on the end table the night before.

I puffed out my lips in a heavy sigh. “Really? You gonna drink all my milk, too?”

“Nah, you’re out of Oreos.”

“Why am I so damn nervous?” I asked her, completely veering away from her presence on my couch, drinking my wine and insulting my lipstick. Oh the lipstick. “Is the lipstick really too much?” She might be abrasive, but Jeannie is a girl who knows her makeup.

“If you like it,” she said with a patronizing grin, “it isn’t too much.”

“So that’s a yes?”

Jeannie nodded with a mixture of pity and humor in her eyes. “What‘s going on in there, Dilly?” She turned off the TV, pushed herself off the couch with her hands and flopped back down, facing me. She took another drink of my wine and then handed me the bottle. “You know this guy is crazy over you. He just laughed about the arm being broken off, and then laughed again at your Venus De Milo joke, and then laughed again at some outdated reference you made to Ted Danson. And that wasn’t even a funny reference.”

“I know,” I said, sitting down beside her and taking the bottle when she shook it. I took a bolstering swallow. “It’s just...” I exhaled heavily. “I keep saying I know, I know, but do I really? If I really knew, then why would I keep second guessing myself? Why would the monolog in my head just be a constant string of me wondering if I really am good enough for him, or if this is all an idiot dream?”

“Because,” she took the bottle back and then another swig, “you really like this guy. This isn’t a little playing around, and it’s obvious from the way both of you act like lovesick teenagers that it isn’t just a little game for either of you. He’s really into you, too, Dilly, and you want to know something?”

I arched an eyebrow, which she took to mean that I wanted the bottle back. I hadn’t intended that, but I wasn’t going to say no. “Go on,” I finally prompted her, when she didn’t start talking.

“I don’t think he’s quite as comfortable in his own skin as you seem to think he is. There’s something about him that is constantly on edge, like there’s something inside that he’s hiding... like there’s something he’s trying to keep under wraps. Or maybe – you said he took over that company from his dad, right?”

I nodded. “Not long ago, I don’t think.” I handed her the bottle.

“Maybe he’s just not into the whole thing. Maybe he’s not the captain of industry you think he is. I dunno, there’s something about him that’s just aching to get out, you know what I mean? Some secret he needs to let go of, but can’t quite do it. Maybe he’s a failed poet.”

I sighed. “Are you still stuck on the werewolf business? You may as well start talking in animal puns – he loves you beary much, he wants to wolf you up – and talk about how he’s roaring all the time.”