The Lion’s Mail Order Menage

“Alright, I’m looking.  What is it that I’ve got that you think you need?”

“I need some money.  Don’t make that face, OK?  I know you’ve been making good money with Geno, OK?  Everybody knows what a big shot he is and you’ve got the reputation of being one of his most important people.  You’ve got to have made some serious cash with him and I need some of it.  We’re hurting, Tyler.  We’re hardly making ends meet.”

Tyler’s hands balled up into fists without him even being aware of it and then he began to shake.  He had the reputation she was talking about because neither of his parents had bothered to take care of him reliably when he was young.  Su*king up to him over that reputation was the wrong angle to have played with him.

He turned without even giving her an answer and moved first one foot and then the other until before he knew it he was halfway to the front door.  His mother was yelling now, alternating between pleading with him and tossing out obscenities, and his father was cackling with a sick satisfaction.

“See?  Told you he wouldn’t be no help.  Should’ve listened to me.”

“It’s because he’s your son.  It’s because he’s got your bad blood running through his veins.”

It was strange, but hearing their bickering back and forth set Tyler free.  He wasn’t thinking about the smell of their rot anymore because that somber, strange environment his mom had tried to hoodwink him with had been demolished. 

His two parents couldn’t even agree on whether or not to try and take his money.  Lucky him. 

One more step and he was out the door, down the hallway with the comforting click, click, click of his boot heels on the concrete floor.  Even with the stench of the place, he felt better.  He knew one thing for sure.  He would not be coming back to this place.  Not unless someone tied him up and dragged him there.  There was nothing for him, not a damned thing. 

There was nothing parental about those people, nothing that he couldn’t get from Geno.  He and Caleb were all he needed and they were exactly who he was going to see, or more specifically Caleb.  That was the only person he could think of tolerating at the moment.

It was either that or go get himself into some kind of a brutal fight and that would be far too dangerous – for whoever he fought, not for him.  When he was in a mood like this, it became so very difficult for him to contain the animal part of him, the half of him that was beast instead of man.

That part of him was more brutal than anything his humanity could have conjured up and feeling the way he did now he would probably kill the first man who looked at him the wrong way.  He didn’t care much if he did kill a man, but he didn’t want to expose himself for what he truly was, nor did he want to put Caleb at any kind of risk.  That was the more important thing.  Shifters had managed to live relatively undisturbed simply because the majority of the population believed that their very existence was a myth, some kind of fairytale character never to be met in real life.  Putting an end to that false sense of security would be a mistake.  It was the more seductive thing to do but it wasn’t the correct thing to do and so he kept his eyes on the sidewalk and turned his collar up, and threw his shades down so as not to make any kind of accidental eye contact.  Just keep walking, he told himself.  Walk until you get to Caleb.  He’ll keep you safe.

* * *

“Caleb!  You got anything else to drink back there?  Be a good host, brother!  Keep it coming!”

“Jesus, Tyler, you are one demanding son of a bi*ch, you know that?”

“Yes sir, I believe I do.  Now does that mean you’re out of booze?  Or are you just bi*ching to bi*ch?”

“Bi*ching to bi*ch I guess,” he said with a genial laugh as he rummaged through his kitchen cabinets, “but if you’re thinking of making this stopping by to drink thing a daily habit, you’re going to have to start bringing some drinks with you.  I don’t think I keep this place stocked enough for it to run like a genuine bar.”

“Well, that would be your first mistake.  I’ll remember that for next time, though.  I’ll bring you some things, a starter kit, if you will.  That way you’ll know how to stock your bar properly in the future.”

“How generous of you,” Caleb said dryly, pouring them both another round of incredibly stiff drinks. 

Now it was Tyler’s turn to laugh, a hearty sound that harkened from the gut and made it impossible not to smile along with him.  Even sober Caleb would be smiling but by this point the two of them were far from that.

Tyler had come storming into his apartment several hours ago with the kind of madness in his eyes that meant trouble.  If anyone but Caleb had encountered him this way, say some poor unassuming stranger on the street, they would have gone as quickly as they could in the other direction.

Caleb knew him, however, knew him well enough to be certain that he was one person Tyler would never hurt.  He also knew him well enough not to ask questions.  The best way to be a friend to Tyler was to hang out with him and let him work through things on his own.  What he had wanted on this evening was to drink and so that was what they had done.

Now he was a different kind of dangerous, the kind of dangerous that came from drinking enough to be entirely free of his inhibitions.  That was the thing that happened when anyone drank the way they were drinking and it brought on varying degrees of behavioral modification with it.  With Tyler, though, there was a whole other level.