Romance: Wanted by the Alpha Lion (A BBW Paranormal Suspense Romance) (Heroes of Shifter Creek Book 2) (50 page)

VI.

              The next morning, I listened to Janie’s radio interview through my headphones as I wandered through town. My shoulders felt like they were weighed down by a million pounds of heavy bags of sorrow.

              “In your book, you talk at length about this love affair you had with this man you thought was a student, but ended up being a member of the military,” the interviewer said. “I’m dying to know, do you still think of him?”

              Janie laughed that beautiful laugh of hers, and I could nearly hear her readjusts uncomfortably in her chair. “I do still think of him. I think about him a lot. Unfortunately, that was something that never really went away.”

              “Have you had any relationships since?”

              “I have. I almost married someone, actually, when I got back to the States.”

              “What happened, if I may dig so personally into your life?”

              “Well, when I was writing this book in my spare time while also living with him and working to support our life, I kind of realized that I missed that excitement that I had before. I knew I wasn’t going to get that back, but I also knew there was something else out there for me that worked and felt better than him. I decided I’d rather be alone than unhappy.”

              “That’s great, great advice. Did you think about this guy, about how that had felt for you?”

              “I did to an extent, but I never imagined I was going to see him again and reconnect. I really had no dreams of getting him back; instead, I dreamt I could find someone or something else that made me feel that same way and that gave me that kind of complete happiness.”

              “Have you found that thing?”

              “Since my job now pretty much is to write, that helped a lot. I also learned to love myself a hell of a lot more. Before, I felt defined by the people I was with and the things I had done, but now I know I define myself. Nothing and no one else can.”

              “I love that. It’s a really true, strong statement. What you’re saying is, you found the happiness within yourself, so you didn’t need to cling to the memory of this guy anymore?”

              “Yeah, something like that. I did find my own empowerment, and that helped me to live my life happier than I had before. It saved my life.”

              “Still, I have to know, did you ever see him again?”

              “The man in the book?”

              “Yes, that man.”

              I held my breath, stopping at a crosswalk to wait for the little white walking man to appear. Would she tell the truth and say that we had found each other again like two familiar strangers on a train? Or did it matter enough to mention? She had been angry that I hadn’t decided to just come with her, but I think that was just a defense mechanism.

              “I did see him again,” Janie said after a longer pause. “Incredibly recently, actually.”

              “And how did that go?”

              “It went spectacularly.” The white walking man appeared. I jogged a little down the street, headed for a flower shop tucked into the alcove of one of the downtown buildings. “It was like we never separated at all, though I did have some hurt feelings bubbling around that didn’t help with the encounter.”

              “Right. Did you confront him about being in the military and not writing you again?”

              “I did, I did. He had viable, rational explanations. I’m not going to get into it because of his privacy, but yeah. I could pretty easily forgive him on that.”

              “Do you guys have any plans for the future though, or is that the end of it.”

              I bought an arrangement of wild flowers mixed with roses. It looked to be the most spectacular (if I could borrow Janie’s word) bouquet in the small store. I smelled it and immediately reminded myself of her scent – those roses, the blind hope that came with them, and the full, inextinguishable desire they engendered.

              “We made tentative plans. I think that’s kind of our thing. I don’t really have hope they will turn out because I’ve went through it before with him. I think I know what to expect.”

              Thanks for telling all the listeners that, Janie. Really puts a lot of faith in me.

              “Well, in the book, you made a happy ending that just when you expected him to never come back, he shows up at your door to greet you. But then in the epilogue, you tell the truth that you didn’t see him again, but you wanted to ‘give myself a chance to have that love for real.’ Don’t you want the happy ending?”

              “Of course I do. I would love that.”

              “But…?”

              “But I’m not naïve anymore. I’m older now, and I know how those things go. Things just don’t work out the way you want them to sometimes.”

              “If you had one thing to say to him now, what would it be?”

              “I would say…” she paused as I crossed another street and headed for a large building. I read the placard on the door saying what floor held what business, then headed up to the very top. “I would say that I loved him then, but I never had the guts to say it. I would say that even now, I still love him, and even thought I still didn’t have the guts to say it, I still mean it. I will always be, a little bit, madly in love with him for the rest of my life, I think.”

              “Those are some strong, dedicated words from our resident author here, Janie Bloom.”

              “Yeah, it’s a bit crazy, I know. But I have to be honest.”

              “And you have been, which I so greatly appreciate. Do you want to tell us a little about the book before we let you go?”

              She said she did and finished with details about the book, where people could find it, and a book signing she would be doing the following weekend. Janie’s voice sounded smooth and professional, as if she hadn’t said anything emotional at all. She had a great poker face.

              The elevator opened to reveal a bustling office. I walked to the receptionist’s desk and introduced myself, then asked for the directions. She gladly offered them to me, her blue eyes glinting with surprised expectation as we spoke. I followed her directions carefully, coming to a wooden door with a glass window looking into it.

I waited outside, holding the flowers and watching people pass. Records hung on the walls, as well as concert posters and other music paraphernalia. A signed copy of one of my own concert posters hung one of the walls opposite me, making me feel pretty cool.

Suddenly, the door opened, and Janie, in all her glory, burst out of it. She checked her phone while one of the radio DJs also spoke to her softly. She didn’t notice me.

“That was a really great show,” the DJ said. “I loved interviewing you. You were so honest.”

“Thanks, I don’t know what other way to be.”

Then, she looked up at me, standing before her with the flowers in my hand. She looked me up and down and stared at me, her mouth absolutely in awe that I stood there in the flesh.

“DaVinci,” she said, shocked. “What are you doing here?”

“I decided that I didn’t need to do that secret show,” I answered. “It’s a secret show anyway, you know? So they shouldn’t expect it.”

“You’re right. You’re so right.”

She paused just staring at me for a moment. Then, she strode forward and hugged me tight. I wrapped my arms around her, resting the flowers against her back. She began to cry, her shoulders shaking with the emotion. The DJ tried to speak to me, but I wouldn’t have it. I came for her and only for her.

She pulled away with the biggest smile I’d ever seen. “You came for me.”

“I did. I couldn’t let you go again.”

She took my face in her hands and kissed me with all the passion that brewed within her for me. I was incredibly late, but I was able to give her the happy ending she wanted. It wasn’t perfectly written like hers, and I didn’t look roguishly handsome with an eye patch from an injury (that was pretty ridiculous), but we finally stood together in the same room, ready to start our future together.

And that replaced any of my thoughts of duty to my job. Only love mattered, and I wouldn’t let it slip out of my fingers again.

***

THE END

Chapter 1

Carrie sighed and looked out the window of the small lunch truck that she worked at. It was another hour before she could go, but there was a line around the block and she knew that they would have to serve them all before she could leave. Or if the food ran out, but it almost never did.

Smashed was the new craze in the city and although the name did not bode well for a restaurant, it was because of their signature sandwich, the one that had everyone there. There was also a marketing scheme to keep it fresh, the truck would be announced on the radio where they would be for lunch. Customers would flock wherever they were to get their hands on a Smasher deluxe. To Carrie, it just meant she had to drive all over the city every morning.

Carrie didn’t like the smashed black bean burger, but it was a hit with many dieters and vegans. After she looked back at the basin of burgers, she was relieved to see that they didn’t have near enough to serve them all. She counted the few that were left and gave them a number. People started to leave and though a few grumbled, they just vowed to themselves that they were going to get one the next day.

“Carrie, let’s get these people through here so we can go.”

She nodded at Brosco and helped the next customer in line. Soon she was through and wrapping drinks up and putting things away in the front. They were out of there before one and Carrie was off to her other job at a karaoke bar. Carrie was a shooter girl and on occasion, she would do a few songs to get the drunks going, though they realistically didn’t need any help to make complete fools of themselves.

Carrie had enough time to get to her small Westside apartment and then shower and dress before she was back at it again. There were a couple of times that she had forgotten to shower and she smelled of beans the whole night. Surprisingly she got better tips that night, but she didn’t want to think too far into why that was.

She made her way the three blocks to Canivaals and clocked in on the old time clock in the back. She waved to her friend Mindy and went to the bar to grab her tray of liquor vials. Mindy made them earlier in the day and Carrie downed one before she started her shift.

Her job was not hard, more mind numbing than anything else. She used the time to think of lyrics for her songs and poems for her journal. Carrie had plans to publish her poetry one day or sell a song so that she could hear it on the radio, but for now, Carrie was slogging through 2 jobs most days, just so she could finish off her Bachelors in Art. With only one semester left, Carrie was finally on the home stretch and loved the idea of only needing one job after school.

Carrie was job was pretty simply as a shooter girl. She carried around a tray of shots and sold them to the crowd. While she would jump on stage from time to time, it was more for her love of music, then for any extra money. The thing she absolutely hated about her job though was the types of clothes that she had to wear. The shirt was a midriff and showed off most of her creamy cleavage. And if that wasn’t enough, a lot of men wanted to shoot them off of her and though she allowed some, it seemed demeaning, even with the large tip that she usually received. Every time a man’s face moved towards her chest, she just sighed and tried to smile when he looked at her. It was not a requirement of her job, but it was smiled upon by management, especially when she allowed Johnston to as well.

The pervy owner came through the place later in the evening around eight, when the club started to get busy. There was more dancing and by the stack of bills in her apron, it was going to be a good night. Johnston stopped her as she was about to go back on the floor with another tray full.

“I was hoping to get something to whet my whistle.”

Carrie groaned at his lecherous look and instead of pushing it through her cleavage as he wanted, Carrie handed a shot to him and walked away, flipping her mass of red curls behind her as she went. She smiled to herself for her small act of rebellion, but knew that it would most likely translate into fewer hours on the next schedule. Carrie promised herself that when she was able to quit a job, Carnivaals would be first and she would make sure to let Johnston know exactly how she felt. Pushing the mask back up onto her face, she situated the beads to fall in her cleft and walked up to a couple of guys that were eying the bar like they needed a drink.

“Would you guys like a drink?”

Carrie smiled up at the two men that were wearing biker jackets and seemed out of place in the bar full of drunken white collars. They were rough looking and covered in tattoos, not at all the normal clientele of suits. Neither one had been on the dance floor and she betted they were there on some kind of shady business. What kind of business could be done while a half-drunk broad sang a Whitney Houston song horribly? Not anything legitimate she guessed.

They smiled back at her and one man in particular caught her eye. He was handsome of course, but it was the way he looked at her that made her look twice. Carrie was used to leering men in that type of work, but he may have been the first one that month that looked into her eyes. On some strange level, she wanted him to notice her as others did, signifying her attraction.

“Yes I will take a couple.” The blonde man that was standing next to him was like most of the others, gawking and practically drooling at her chest. She handed him a couple of shots and ignored the fact that he did not tip her. When the dark-haired man ordered his, Carrie nestled it in between her large breasts and waited for him to take it. He surprised her by grabbing it out and shooting it down. He tipped her with a twenty and a card.

Carrie smiled back a little miffed and moved around the room. She did not offer it to anyone else in that way. It figured that the one she wanted to didn’t, and the rest did. She caught the eye of Johnston and he asked her to go up and sing a song to get the lines going for karaoke. Carrie did for a change of pace and to have a few minutes of fun in her otherwise boring day.

She sang a rendition of a country song that she knew well. It wasn’t really her genre of choice, but she always sang random picks, so Carrie Underwood’s cheating song was what was up. Her eyes played over the crowd as she sang and though she wouldn’t admit it to herself, there was a particular man that she was looking for. Carrie didn’t see the biker again and even when she put her carnival mask back on and went back out on the floor, she didn’t see him or his friend again. There was still his card in her apron, but she would quickly forget about it until that evening when she was counting her tips for the night at home.

While she had thought it may have been some kind of business card, it was just a name and a gang. “Castor Reaux - Devil Mutts.”

Carrie didn’t know what that was supposed to mean or who the Devil Mutts were supposed to be. She imagined that it was the name of a biker gang that she had heard about in passing. Turning it over, she found a number that was handwritten in scrawling text. Carrie hadn’t seen him write it, so she wondered if he had a pocketful that he handed out. The idea was creepy and she forgot about Castor and dragged herself home early around ten. Her small apartment greeted her, as well as her cat Meow.

She may never see the man again, but he inspired her. Instead of the writer’s block that had plagued her last couple of weeks, there was a song written in less than an hour, the music and lyrics pouring out of her. It was Castor that she thought of and she wondered why he had such an impact on her. He would be to her, ‘the man that had refused.’