Werewolf Sings the Blues (9 page)

Jason's voice jars me out of Depressionville. I was so deep in there, I momentarily forgot he existed. My gaze whips up to his, which is of course blank. “What?” I ask.

“I think you sing beautifully, especially when you're putting your soul into it. You're … haunting.”

I open my mouth to protest, but find myself saying, “Thank you.”

I meet his eyes and he immediately looks away, I think he's ashamed for some reason. “Just my opinion. I don't know much about music.”

“Still. Never been called haunting before.” I swim backwards with a smile. “Kind of like it.”

“It's accurate,” he says, eyes jutting everywhere but my way.

“Too bad you're not a record producer, huh?” I reach the other side before turning around to swim back. “Got anymore questions for me, Blondie?”

“No.”

I hold onto the side again. “Come on. There must be something else.”

“No. My questions upset you. That's the last thing I want.”

He's got me there. Despite the compliment, I'm close to panic and on the verge of tears again. I thought “Come to Jesus” moments were supposed to make you feel good, full of potential, not like slitting your fucking wrists. That's why I avoid self-reflection at all costs. Not once have I ever found anything I liked. So I do what I always do, distract myself with something handsome. “You're really a great guy, you know that? That's rare, especially in someone as good looking as you.”

“It is?” he asks.

I start wading toward the steps. “Yeah. Most drop-dead gorgeous men are total assholes. Arrogant. Selfish.” I stroll beside him, slowly bending down to grab my towel. “Especially in bed.” I meet his eyes again with a grin. “You're none of those things, are you?”

He looks away. “I can be.”

“I very much doubt that, Blondie,” I say, toweling myself off. “From what little I know, I don't think you have a selfish bone in your body. Fact you're here with me proves that. Deep down you're just a big old puppy dog, aren't ya? Don't worry. I won't tell a soul.” I wrap the towel around myself and wring out my hair. “Enough with the outside exercise, huh? Time for bed.”

With a coy glance, I sashay in front of him to our room. When I step into our future love shack, I drop the towel halfway to the bed, and once again bend at the waist to rummage around my suitcase for the toiletry bag. I glance over at Jason, who hangs by the door with his back against it again. Wonder if he's afraid of me or himself. Either way it's a good sign. “I call first shower,” I say.

“Fine,” he says gruffly.

I retrieve the bag and smirk at the damn near scowling were
wolf on my way to the bathroom. I shut the door and let out a quiet
sigh. The only problem with a challenge is I have to do all the heavy lifting and have patience, neither of which are my strong suits. I've learned
they
have to make the first move, or they'll get scared away. It is a pain in the ass, but the few times I've bothered it ended up being worth it.

I turn on the shower, count to three, then let out a loud groan. T
his should do the trick. I pad out of the bathroom and sigh. Jason
is by the bed dumping out his K-Mart bags. “Jason, I can't get the knot undone on my top. I tied it funny. Can you …”

“Um … okay.”

I pivot around and slowly brush my hair to the side. There's only an inch between us, close enough I can enjoy the intense heat
radiating from his body onto my bare flesh. Tickles all over.
Every
where
. I glance back to watch as Jason hesitantly raises his hands to my neck. For some reason they're balled into fists until he forces himself to unknot me. His pinky brushes against my wet, naked skin, sending another wave of tingles through me. Over too soon. He quickly unties the knot and yanks his hands away. My top falls, but I hold it in place with my arm to cover myself. “Thank you,” I say as I twirl around. I peek up at him under my eyelashes, forming my best seductive smile.

He's stopped breathing. Stopped blinking even. His hands are fist
s again, his face his usual mask of nothingness, but there's a trace of turmoil revolving in those eyes. He wants me.
Bad
. I can even smell it oozing from his every pore. I want him too. Every nerve calls to him. Just this, him being so close, those raw eyes on me and only me, I'm literally pulsing for him. Burning for him to be inside me. When it becomes a three-alarm fire, I raise my free hand to touch his stubbled face, to caress it.

Mistake.

The instant I move, the spell is broken. He blinks and the chaos vanishes, replaced with something akin to fright. Jason takes a step back. “You should take your shower now.”

Mortification acts like an allergic reaction, squeezing my throat closed. He has got to be fucking kidding. What am I, a crone with warts dotting her body? I'm all but naked and throwing myself at him, and he's rejecting me? For the first time in years I feel … vulnerable. I fucking hate it. “Fine.” He takes another step back, probably in case I attempt to touch him again. I don't. I walk to the safety of the bathroom and shut the door.
That
could have gone better.

I step into the shower and let the grime of the past two days slosh off. The stench of failure too. I haven't been rejected so outright like that since puberty. What the hell is his problem? I know he said he wasn't into casual sex, but he's still a man. Sort of. He wants me, any fool can sense that. So it's not me, it's him. I just have to convince him to give in. Take a walk on the wild side. Good thing I'm a licensed tour guide there.

A setback. That was merely a setback. I shouldn't have tried to touch him like that. I knew better. Just couldn't help myself. Not again. He's a tough nut to crack, one swift wallop won't do it. Slowly wearing away at the shell at pressure points will. His resistance
will
crumble. It's already begun to. Poor bastard doesn't stand a chance.

Don't know if it's the shower or pep talk but I feel a hell of a lot better when I shut off the water ten minutes later. Smell better too. I wrap the tiny towel around myself, brush my teeth, grab the toiletry bag, and step out. Time to add some pressure. Blondie is over b
y the bed folding his new wardrobe while watching
Die Hard
or at least
that's what I think it is. The picture's so fuzzy it could be
Friends
for all I know. He stops mid-fold when I open the door, face impassive as usual. “Bathroom's all yours,” I say with a sweet smile.

“Uh, thank you,” he says, eyes down.

I swish over to the other side of the bed with my smile affixed. My prey continues his chore, glancing up only as I sit across from him. He glances again when I throw up a leg onto the bed and open
the lotion bottle. “If you want,” I say nonchalantly as I massage lotion
onto my leg, “I can finish packing for you while you shower.” I catch his eyes, which are glued to my exposed leg. For a split second, he's startled at being caught, mouth gaping over for a millisecond, but I just grin. “I don't mind. Really. The sooner you shower, the sooner we can … go to bed.” I switch legs. “I don't know about you, but I'm just dying to slide under the sheets. I'm betting the feeling's mutual.” Literally.

Jason grunts in affirmation as he diverts those eyes of his back to his clothes. Damn. I lower my leg and start lathering my arms. Still not acknowledging my presence, my shy friend grabs some clothes. “I'll, um, be quick.”

“I'll be waiting,” I say in a dusky voice as he rushes into the bathroom. He is so freaking adorable I can hardly stand it. Facing two werewolves with guns, cool as hell. Flash him a little leg, he becomes as flustered as a teenage girl around her celebrity heartthrob. He better be careful, the flattery will stretch my already overinflated self-image to the breaking point.

I reach for our suitcase, pulling it closer. What to wear, what to wear. Normally I sleep au natural, but since Blondie's kind of a prude, he'd have a coronary if I was totally nude when he came out. The pajamas I bought are drab, shirts and long pants, but I could probably get away with a white thong and pink tank top. Slutty, yet girl next door. Perfect.

I change, adding white socks and braided pigtails to up the cutesie factor, then start packing as I promised. Should the shit hit the fan, and we need a quick getaway, I don't want to have to go on another shopping spree. There's no way in hell they'll find us but still. Safe, sorry and all that jazz.

Blondie's in the shower awhile, long enough for me to pack and apply a little makeup. I check myself in the mirror and smirk. Damn am I adorable. Close to irresistible. Up the sex kitten rou
tine a tad more and despite this idiotic reluctance of his, I may just get my rollercoaster ride. Oh. Condoms. We didn't buy any. Well, he did say he can't get diseases, and I do have a year left with my IUD. I don't—

Jason's cell phone rings on the table. I glance over to read the display. With that one word my throat closes up.

Dad
.

Shit. My first impulse is to toss the cell across the room, smash it into nothing, but my second is much stronger. Overpowering even. I swore to myself if the bastard ever reached out, a letter, a phone call, candygram, I'd never respond. Not even a, “Fuck you.” Werewolves trying to kill me kind of blew that plan. I'm going to be stuck in his house for the foreseeable future. Gonna be hard to avoid him. Fuck it. I pick up the cell and accept the call before I can stop myself. “J-Jason's phone.”

There's silence on the other end for a drawn-out second, then, “Vivian?”

Holy shit. That single word knocks the wind out of me. That's my father. That's my father on the other end of the phone. His voice. That's what he sounds like. His voice isn't as deep as I imagined. Of course I always thought he'd sound like Harrison Ford for some reason. Don't know why I was always casting Ford as my dad. I did like
Raiders
as a child. Still, it—

“Vivi, are you still there?”

My real father's voice snaps me out of the mental stupor I didn't realize I was in. “Y-Yes, I'm here. Sorry.” Why the fuck am I apologizing to him?

“Are-Are you alright? How-How are you doing?” he asks nervously.

“F-Fine. W-We're safe. Stopped for the night to get some rest.”

“Good.” A pause. “That's good.”

More unbearable silence follows. I have no idea what to say. I always thought I'd scream or cuss or cry. Tell him what an asshole he was. How I didn't need him. How I hoped he'd get cancer. Just thinking these things made me upset, angrier than normal even, so I put a stop to them and decided if he did reach out I'd ignore the gesture. Now the moment's arrived, and I just feel …
exhausted. Uncomfortable. Awkward. As if I'm stuck in a conversation with a
stranger who I have nothing in common with. I just want it to end and
walk away. It is an option. “Um … Jason's in the shower right now.”

“Oh,” Frank says, sounding shocked for some reason. “Is he … how are you two getting along? Any troubles?”

“No. He's … good. Quiet, but seems to be very good at what he does.”

“He is. There is no one I trust more with my life. Or yours.”

“Oh. Good … to know.” Another pause. “So, I'm gonna … I'll tell Jason you called.”

“Thank you.”

“Well, then … bye.”

I'm about to end the call when he says, “Vivi?”

“Yeah?”

“I'm sorry. For … everything.”

Silence, then, “Okay. Bye.” I hang up before he can utter another word.

I stare down at the phone, not sure what to do next. I just spoke to my father. He's … real. I slump on the bed and keep staring. Shit, I'm really going to meet him. In a matter of days we're going to be face-to-face. He won't be this mythic monster I've cre
ated, who I've hung all my hatred on. He is a real man who breathes, sleeps, who kept tabs on me, apparently came to see me sing once, who sent his top man to save my life.

“Are you alright?”

My gaze whips from the damn phone to the bathroom door. I was so deep in thought I didn't hear the shower shut off. Jason's dressed in black sweat pants and white undershirt, his f.r.e.a.k.s. series blonde hair dripping. The shirt clings to his every muscle but my usual lust doesn't rise. I feel nothing. Uncomfortably numb. “What?”

“You're upset again,” he says, once again confused.

“I'm …” No idea. “Da—
Frank
called. I'm sorry, I answered it.” I hold up the phone. “I know I shouldn't have but …”

“It's fine,” Jason says, taking the cell. He stands above me, those blue eyes examining me again. I suddenly feel more than a little naked, probably because I almost am. “Did he say something?”

I know he means did Frank say something to upset me, but I don't want to discuss it. “He just wants you to call him back.” I grab the suitcase for something to do. I can't stand him looking at me anymore.

He gets the hint this time. “Okay. I'll, uh, go outside.”

“Fine.”

Jason hangs his head before walking out. I stop searching for nothing inside the suitcase the moment the door shuts. So much for my seduction scene. Even if he did want to get it on, I sure as hell don't anymore. Nothing kills the mood like having a head full of your father. I quickly remove my thong, exchanging it for pajama pants before turning off the TV.

“… no, it's fine. I think we have enough,” Jason says outside. I stop moving. I shouldn't listen, I know this … “Nothing since last night. Anything on the car?” Quiet. “She switched the plates so it shouldn't be a problem unless we're pulled over.” Silence. “Actually, very well. She's been clear minded. Helpful. No breakdowns. She is definitely a Dahl.” That one brings a smile to my face. I've im
pressed him. Doubt that's an easy feat. “I won't, sir.” Quiet. “Of
course
not, Dad. She's … your daughter. I would never take advantage
of your trust.”
Huh?
“I know it's for both our sakes.” Damn, I really want to hear what Frank's saying. “I know,” Jason says, dejected. “I will. I love you too, Dad. Bye.”