Swamp Wolf

Scowling into the mirror, Lucien reached for the liquid foundation, hoping to cover up his pallor. Shaky fingers brushed the glass, fumbled to grasp it, sending it crashing to the floor instead. Honeycomb colored drops of dewy foundation dribbled from the bottle, the stream growing the longer he started at it instead of picking it up. Groaning, he leaned, stretching to reach it, the hardwood floor suddenly mottled with purple, shimmering spots that swam in squiggly lines as they rushed up to greet him.

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Laying there, chair tipped over, face pressed against to the cool wood, Lucien groaned and closed his eyes, telling himself he’d just lay there for a few minutes before getting dressed. Limbs heavy, he found it difficult to care that his makeup was getting smudged and his hair had spilled from it’s bun and was probably streaked with makeup at this point. He was just beginning to doze off when the echoing buzz of plastic on wood led to the struggle to open his eyes and focus.

 

Squiggles were gone, spots were mostly there still, as was his phone, having joined him on the floor several feet away. Grabbing it took way more effort than it should have, finger mashing the button to answer before his brain could fully process the number.

 

“Did you seriously tell granpe you weren’t coming home?”

 

Groaning, Lucien rolled onto his back and threw an arm over his eyes to block out the glare of the overhead light.

 

“If that is what granpe told you, than that’s what I said,” Lucien replied.

 

“You were to go out there and bring Tobias home, not take up residence yourself!”

 

“Seeing as how the latter is impossible at the moment, and I’ve met my mates, here is where I’ll be, at least for the next four months, so you’ll just have to deal with it Remy or don’t, I don’t have any fucks to give at this particular moment. You can try again tomorrow, if you’d like, but I can’t promise I’ll have any fucks then, either.”

 

“Oh my god, do you hear yourself right now? Your vulgarity is appalling. You know what granpe says about people using…”

 

“Profanity, yes, I do. If he could hear me he’d say it denoted a lack of intellect and a dull, uninspired mind, at which point, he’d suggest I had a touch of the evil in me and needed to cleanse myself with hard work and confession. Your point?”

 

“Apparently, I have none,” Remy muttered.

 

In his mind’s eye, Lucien could see his littermate, flustered, pacing in front of the wide kitchen window with its view of endless swamp and old cypress trees.

 

“It’s crawfish season,” Remy began, seeming to change tactics.

 

“I am aware.”

 

“Then you know you’re leaving me to be buried in paperwork and payroll.”

 

“Guess you’ll have to learn the software I’ve been trying to teach you for the last three years or hire someone out of your own pocket to do the work you’ve been content leaving to me.”

 

“You’re such a bastard.”

 

“Now whose being vulgar.”

 

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately!” Remy complained. “You’ve always manned the office, you know it inside and out…”

 

“And I hate every square inch of it,” Lucien declared. “Which I’ve been trying to tell you for years, but like granpe, you don’t like to listen to people when they try and tell you something you don’t want to hear. I gotta go. Have fun with the crawfish and don’t fuck up the numbers or you’ll find a wolf waiting out on a dark dock for you to walk home one night.”

 

Mashing the disconnect button to end the outraged sputtering of the last born of his littermates didn’t produce the type of satisfaction it might have if Lucien wasn’t exhausted and in desperate need of a burst of energy so he could pull himself together and finish getting dressed.

 

At least the spots were gone. As was the foundation, out of the bottle and smeared between the wracks and whirls of the wood. Sitting up slowly, Lucien cursed himself for skipping lunch but nothing had smelled appealing in the bar thanks to the god awful meds he was on. A quick glance at the clock showed he was about due for the second dose of the day and maybe a line of powdered pick me up.

 

Grasping the back of the chair, he was just about to heave himself up when a hard knock on the door left him checking the clock again.

 

What the hell?

 

According to it he still had thirty-five minutes. It would be pushing it, to complete the whole effect he’d planned, especially with shaky hands, but, doable as long as this interruption didn’t take too long.

 

“Who is it?” Lucien called out, digging his fingers into the leather of the chair as he stood.

 

“JD!”

 

A surge of irritation flooded him. Should have figured his mate would pick tonight of all nights to be early instead of just barely on time, the way Lucien was coming to grow used to. “I’m nowhere close to ready yet.”

 

“Good,” JD replied. “You can stop worrying about it and open the door. We’ve got a free night to watch movies or whatever you’d like to do.”

 

Uh-huh. Then why did the tone of his voice sound vaguely pissed and absolutely irritated? There was a tenseness to it as well, though Lucien didn’t get the impression any of those emotions were aimed at him. What he did get the impression of was that JD was withholding something, meaning Lucien and his extraordinary curious wolf were desperate to know what it was.

 

“And what if I was looking forward to going to the grand opening of the new garage, and taking part in the benefit auction,” Lucien called out. “I hear there will be some sweet bikes to be bid on. I was planning to do so if something caught my eye. I have no intention of riding bitch behind you or Brooks so if that’s what you’re hoping for, put it out of your mind now and come back in a half hour, I’ll be ready then.”

 

“You’re not hearing me.”

 

“Oh, I heard the words, you’re attempting to cancel our date,” Lucien said. “If you no longer wish to attend the auction, then I’ll go alone.”

 

“You can’t!”