Vicious Circle

Sensing the defeat, she resumed arguing. “He’ll keep me company when you’re out gallivanting with your so-called friends. Isn’t that right—oh!” She began to laugh.

I followed her gaze to discover Poopsie pissing on the newspaper where it had landed, in the corner on top of my picture album.

I screamed. He dropped his leg but pissed a stream across the wood floor as he squatted and whined his way back to Nana.

An hour later, with Nana sulking in her room and the dog in one of the cages in the storm cellar, I’d dried the pictures in danger and removed all the unharmed pages. I’d get another binder; this one had to go. After scrubbing the corner of the living room twice, I promptly went for a drive. She had been here less than twenty-four hours and had already managed to drive me from my own home in search of serenity.

There were a few scenic fields I knew of. A bridge over a fast stream. A woodland grove—the leaves were crimson and burnt gold and palest yellow, their branches full of the season’s glorious color. A few more weeks, and those same branches would be bare. By the time I’d seen all that, I’d made it nearly back into the civilized world. I saw a gas station and stopped.

I pulled the Waterhouse day pla

A Post-it note was stuck to the page. It read: School Brunch and had this Saturday’s date under it. Had it been six months already? In high school, Olivia, Betsy, Nancy, and I had been the “not-so-in” crowd. Afterward, Nancy had stayed in Halesville—which was weird, because she was the most intellectual one. The rest of us had parted for separate colleges and separate lives. We all ended up within a few hours’ drive of one another so, twice a year, we got together in the central location of Columbus for a brunch or di

I moved the Post-it and searched the list for the name “Joh

I put quarters into the pay phone and dialed Joh

“’Lo?”

“Joh

“Hey, Red.”

That threw me. My hair’s dark, dark brown. I tried going blond in my late teens. A week later, all the prissy cheerleaders at school started saying things like, “Your Greek roots are showing.” I dyed it back to brown; blond hadn’t been me anyway. I was a darkling. “Red?” I asked.

“I’ve decided I’m going to call you Red from now on.”

“All right. I’ll bite—no pun intended. Why?”

He snickered in a very masculine way and lowered his voice. “’Cause I like the idea of the big bad wolf visiting you and Grandma.”

I laughed so hard, people pumping gas turned to stare at me. Joh

“I knew you’d call me eventually,” he said.

“Sorry to disappoint you, but this isn’t what you think it is.”

“Damn.” He breathed the word more than said it.

Quickly, I asked, “Busy tomorrow?”

“Never too busy for you, Red.”

“Stop it. And don’t read into the words.” On full moons, the wæres let themselves into my storm cellar and locked themselves into the cages they wanted with whomever they wanted to share them with—an important choice, since these caged animals passed the time by mating, and furious mating by the sounds of it. (Wæres differed from natural wolves in that they didn’t have to be in heat for such activity.) When I went to unlock the cages at dawn, Joh

“Aw, c’mon, Red. Go out with me just once. I won’t bite. I won’t even lick if you don’t want me to.”

I gri

He sighed. “Hey…you know about Lorrie, right?” His voice had gone soft too, and serious.

“Yeah,” I said. A heavy, sad silence filled the line between us. I wanted to say something else, but everything that came to mind was a statement of the obvious. And I couldn’t say, Don’t worry, I’m taking care of it. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I hope they get the bastard.” Joh

“Me too.” I paused, then asked, “Um…Busy or not?”

“I said I wasn’t.”

“Perfect. Would you please go to Cleveland and pick up something for me in, uh, well…your stage clothes.” He fronted an awesome techno-metal-Goth band. My friend Celia was now married to Erik, who was the drummer.

“In daylight hours?”

“Mm-hmmm. At four o’clock.”

“Awesome. I love scaring the white-collared types. What’m I picking up?”

“Probably a briefcase or something like that.”

He paused. “You don’t know?”

“Long story.”

“Sounds like perfect di

I rolled my eyes. “Joh

“Okay, okay. Where?”

“From the manager of a coffee shop near the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. On East Ninth.”

“No way! The place they roast their own beans?”

I had to smile. His enthusiasm never waned. I didn’t mean to be cruel, but if any man would make a good wærewolf, as in cousin to man’s best friend, it was Joh

“Cool. Wait—what’s in it for me?”

Going with the thought I’d just had, I said, “Treats.”

“Oooo baby.”

“Not those kinds of treats, Joh

“Don’t blame me for trying, do ya?”

“Never.” I had to admit, his interest in me was flattering—and his voice seemed sexier to me on the phone than it ever had in person—but my personal rule was direct: don’t flirt with the wæres you ke

“So…” he drew it out. “Am I keeping this briefcase or whatever until the moonrise, or do I get to make a special trip to see you and Grandma?”

In a mocking, childlike voice, I teased, “What big ideas you have.”

He growled low. “I got other things bigger than my ideas, little girl.”

My cheeks flushed red enough to suit the nickname. Joh

I’d always thought he just flat-out scared me, but talking to him now—more than we ever talked when he ke

No, it had to be because this was the first time I was on the phone with him…hearing him without seeing him.

I realized it was all about his appearance. That made me feel bad. I didn’t judge people on looks. Not usually, anyway. And though I’d not thought Joh

“I’ll be home; bring it to me there.” I’d have to test my theory and see if he still intimidated me.