18: Roofing

Quincy St. Martin

As usual, nobody is home when I get back. After a shower, I put on my pajama pants and a tank top and stare at my reflection in the mirror critically.

There is no way that anybody in this house would be able to miss that big hickey on my neck.

I was careful at hiding it behind my hair today, but even Evelyn commented on it.

We were having smoothies at the café after my interview with Adam, the manager, when Evelyn laughed and said, “Oh, boy, poor Travis, he never had a chance, huh?”

All the while her eyes were skimming the bruise on my neck, Travis had averted his, pretending he hadn’t seen or heard Evelyn’s comment.

It was big and hard to miss. I didn’t think Jonah would be happy to see it. He’s been way overprotective. I am over eighteen, but my cousin has been treating me like I’m still twelve.

I don’t want to be hiding away in my room from everybody until the bruise is gone. I did enough hiding when I was at the Loup Noir Pack, and I hated it.

Ughh! That’s it! I wind a light, cream-colored cotton scarf around my neck. I look ridiculous, wearing a scarf with pajama bottoms, but there’s no way around it.

Pajamas with a scarf? Why not? I’ll rock it! I’ll own the look. Yeah!

With that in mind, I venture into the living room and try to read ~Of Mice and Men~ by John Steinbeck. It’s a very good book. Yet somehow I find myself staring at the same page for over fifteen minutes with zero clue as to what’s written on it.

I find my fingers slipping underneath the scarf, absently tracing the hickey on my neck.

I can almost feel his warm wet mouth on me, the sharp teeth and the canines pressing on my skin. His powerful hand on my back while another grips the hair at the back of my neck.

His heated hard body pressing against mine.

My breathing starts to go ragged. Goosebumps spread across my skin, and I let out a small moan. ~Oh, God~!

I jump up. My eyes go wide, and I slap a hand over my mouth. ~What the hell, Quincy~?

It’s a good thing nobody is around. Is it hot in here? I start to fan myself.

Maybe another shower is in order, a cold one, because it’s a very hot evening. What’s with the temperature in California? I can’t get him out of my mind, and it’s ridiculous.

I’ve been so obsessed with him from the first moment I laid eyes on him. It has gotten worse after this morning. I mean, how often do you have a gorgeous non-human guy you’ve been crushing on, corner you and gave you a big hickey?

I don’t even know how to describe what happened after that. He acted like he had the right to me. Like he owned me.

It reminds me so much of the way the werewolves at the Loup Noir Pack behave when they find their mate, and that’s what scares me the most. It’s surprising that he left me alone after that, even though I felt his burning gaze following me from time to time the whole day today.

I like looking at hot guys just like anyone would. No harm in looking, right? I don’t like to think that I’m so shallow that I’m only drawn to his looks, though.

I toss the book onto the seat beside me and reach for the remote control for the TV. Then I keep flipping the channels…just like my cousin Jonah. I’m turning into my cousin, which is how Jonah finds me an hour later.

The smell of pizza wafts through the air the moment he enters the house. He deposits the box on the coffee table. Then he stands there staring at me, frowning.

“Pizza!!!” I sit up, clapping my hands. “You are the best, Jonah! Super duper awesome!”

I beam at him. For a second, his frown disappears and his eyes soften. I get up to get us plates and something to drink. I even do my version of a happy dance and start singing while I’m at it. “Hi, friends! Are you ready? For the magic pizza song? Here we go!!! Magic, magic pizza. Yummy magic pizza. What do you want on your pizzaaa??? I want cheese! I want cheese! I want pepperoni! I want pepperoni! And I want spiders!!!! Spiders? Noooo!!!!”

I even detect a slight smile on his lips as he stands there with his arms crossed over his chest, watching me. Then I switch to the pizza song Nana and I used to sing together when I was younger.

“~Je suis une pizza. Avec du fromage. Beaucoup de sauce. Des tomates. Des oignons. Des champignons. Épices mélangées. Je suis une pizza. Prête à manger, oh!~”

Then my voice breaks a bit. Something sticks in my throat, and I stop singing. I miss Nana. So much. I abruptly sit on the sofa and force a big smile at Jonah. I pat a seat next to me, swallow hard, and say, “Come on, sit! I’m hungry.”

“You’re so much like Nana,” he says, shaking his head. “What’s with the scarf?”

“Don’t you know? It’s a new trend these days.”

“What? Wearing a scarf in the house? With pajamas?”

“Uh-huh.” I look down at the pizza and start scratching the side of my head.

My scalp gets itchy sometimes when I try to lie to my friends or to the people I care about.

“The Kardashians or somebody like that started it. It’s all the rage.” I stuff a big bite of the pizza into my mouth so I can stop talking.

“Somebody from some café called. He said if you could be there at 5 a.m. tomorrow morning, then the job is yours,” says Jonah, still staring at the scarf around my neck suspiciously.

“Yes!” I make a punching motion in the air. A pizza and a job in one day. How lucky am I? “Wait! Which café? Is it Club Espresso Degree?”

He shrugs his massive shoulders. “You need a phone.”

“Yes, I do. You’re an unreliable phone receptionist.”

***

Five minutes to 5 a.m., I’m bright-eyed and bushy-tailed in front of the dimly lit café. A few minutes later, a girl shows up on a skateboard and unlocks the door.

“Hi,” she says with a friendly smile. “So you’re the new girl. I’m Cat.”

“Quincy,” I tell her.

Cat shows me around and quickly tells me what to do to help her get started. She’ll train me throughout the day. I like her immediately. She has a nose ring and several piercings on her ears. I love her short purple hair and the tattoo of a bird with its colorful wings spread open on the side of her neck.

I like her black nail polish and her Grateful Dead T-shirt with the skull and roses, her ripped dark jeans, and black Vans. She introduces me to a couple of other girls, Alex and Jenna, who show up half an hour later.

Alex just nods her head then gets to work. Jenna sizes me up and down, and then she purses her lips before she saunters away.

“Alex is cool,” says Cat. “Don’t mind Jenna. She doesn’t like girls who are prettier than she is.” She winks at me before she busies herself with the brewing equipment.

I smile at her compliment. I’d learned earlier, when she hit on me, that Cat likes both men and women. No point in being discriminating, she told me.

She also advised me to put concealer on my neck to cover the hickey, even though it’s as sexy as fuck, according to her. I have no idea how a hickey could look ‘sexy as fuck.’