Ch 2: Darling

It was the day before my birthday. I kept the box with the tape and walkman under my bed in one of the rooms, my temporary room, above the bookstore. I glanced underneath the bed that morning as I'd gotten ready to open the store. Thoughts of opening it floated around in my head. Thoughts I hadn't considered in the last four years. I probably would have opened it. I'd even set a mental time for tomorrow. But the events of that morning seemed to disagree.

"They're running us out of business, man!" Vinnie said indicating himself and his wife Sammy who was sitting behind the counter and looking through some papers.

She looked up with a wry smirk to where we sat at one of the old tables for reading. "Don't think Conny knows what you're talking about, dear."

I gave them both a bewildered look, putting down the book I'd been trying to read but had barely the attention span to do so. Vinnie scoffed and looked back to me.

"Really? You haven't heard of the new bookshop that opened last week down the street? It's got a cafe and a section for classic rock records. Damn me, guess I didn't get the memo that bookstores aren't actually for books."

Something in my gut twisted. This wasn't going to be another morning of Vinnie's usual rants.

"Can't you work something out with them? I mean, who owns the place? Maybe, I don't know, you're a small business...maybe...they'll give you a break...They could see they don't need all your customers..." I trailed off as Vinnie raised an eyebrow and a look of pity came over Sammy.

"Can you believe this guy?" Vinnie turned back to Sammy. "Four years here and still doesn't understand the ways of business."

Sammy sighed and pushed her papers away. She gave me a sad smile before looking over to her husband. "Can't you see, Vinnie? Conny's got nowhere else to go when we close down."

When we close down. It was a sucker-punch to the gut. The bookstore was all I had in Portland. Where else could I go? What else could I possibly do? I was a delta from the slums of New York with no college degree and only my meager savings to keep me afloat.

Sammy must have seen the distress in my eyes. She rubbed her forehead. Between the three of us, an uncomfortable and awkward silence settled.

For the past four years, I had refused to outright admit it, and when I implied it, Vinnie and Sammy vehemently denied it. That being that I was more of a charity case than an employee. They could barely afford to pay me state minimum wage. Only two people truly needed to run Kentons Bookstore. Sammy, the accountant and financial officer and Vinnie, the salesman and face of the store. They also happened to conveniently not have the weight of past memories plaguing their mind.

"His name is Ross Edwards," Sammy later told me at dinner. I tilted my head. Edwards was a familiar name. Some distant remnant of New York perhaps? It was also a common name. Not one I'd hopefully be expected to know. Luckily, Vinnie, as was his way, filled me in while trying to stuff as much spaghetti as humanly possible down his throat.

"It's that big-shot alpha from the Edwards family. Y'know, Thorephite Inc?" That was a familiar name. Everyone knew Thorephite and the woman behind it. A big mysterious and mostly reclusive alpha woman, Vanessa Edwards. The leader and vanguard of popularizing thorium-based nuclear energy around the world.

"Her son, Ross Edwards, is a little shit. They think he might even turn down the CEO position at his parents company for a god damn laugh at them. Rich bastard."

"Vinnie. Language." Sammy muttered as she slid more spaghetti onto his plate.

"Anyways, he's dabbling in whatever'll get his name caught on in Portland. That's a fancy bookstore apparently. Really, he should just keep banging omegas, and going to some celebrity worship fest and he's set for life with mommy's paycheck."

"Vincent."

"Hey, am I lying?" He gave his wife a shit-eating grin. I tuned out the rest. Something about how Vinnie should really learn to respect omegas more as a privileged gamma. Something more about his language. I was sure Vinnie was probably smiling as Sammy went off on him but my mind reeled back to the name. Ross Edwards. The name stuck around in my head, crawling through my thoughts like some parasite. I slowly got up as the two continued their argument (mostly Sammy giving Vinnie dirty looks and him going the extra mile to compliment her cooking).

I went to my room. Ross Edwards. Funny. I knew I'd have to move out soon. And there was only really one place I could go back to. I wonder if he knew that? Well, obviously not. Men like him didn't often wonder about the plight of men like me. The thought was laughable, but I couldn't really think of anything else to occupy my mind. It was then that I left.

Shooting Vinnie a text to not wait up for me, I grabbed my leather jacket and the keys to their beat up Toyota before heading out. I could feel a wave of anxiety, a wave of nausea but forced myself to drive. One thing I'd miss about Oregon was the countryside. Through the rolling hills and with the wind of the cool night running through my hair, I drove for maybe hours. I remembered my phone ringing a few times. It was when I finally reached a small town, Dell Meadows, that I stopped the car to pump gas. The town wasn't really a town. More like a collection of houses, a church, a school and the gas station. The only light was the full moon, a handful of street lamps and the red and blues of the gas station. Everything was dream-like.

After the gas, I went inside to grab a candy bar. As I left, my mind was once again filled with thoughts of the day. Of the bookstore. Of leaving. Ross Edwards. So much so that I missed the giant of a man in front of me until I was already buried into a hard chest.

"Oof!"

"Ah! Uh...oh god..erm, sorry!" I stuttered out, instantly being hit with the absolute power that seemed to radiate off the man in waves. He had to be an alpha.

"No, no, it's fine." I heard the smirk in his voice even before I looked up. I looked up to a man a full head taller than me. My hair must have tickled his jaw. The neon blue light of the station's open sign lit up a face of angles. A chiseled jaw. Perfectly trimmed blond beard and short hair that was brushed up and a little to the side. The blue that jumped out of his eyes with the help of the neon light made his eyes look a bit eerie, almost too bright.  It all came together with the easy smirk.

"A little late for an omega to be out alone, don't you think?"

I blinked up at him. My voice almost caught in my throat but I somehow managed to muster out a raspy murmur. "I'm a delta."

He sniffed. It was quick and clean. "So you are." He simply said. I waited for his hesitation. I waited for the part where he would step back a few feet, make up some lousy excuse before turning around and leaving. Hell, seeing as how the day was turning out, part of me expected him to spit in my face and tell me what a disgrace to the beauty of life and nature deltas were.

Instead, he gave me a soft smile. "I thought you were a bit tall for an omega. And most omegas I know don't keep the facial hair."

"Suppose you know a lot of omegas," I bit out, without thinking much. What the hell? That wasn't how you talked to an alpha. And yet, he only smiled, his eyes still focused on my face.

Almost subconsciously, I felt for my face, probably looking more than a little embarrassed. His smile only seemed to grow wider, and I felt a humiliating heat starting to crawl up my neck. Thank god I was facing away from the lights.

"Keep it," he said, his voice a little quieter and deeper. "Looks like something from an Armani model."

I sucked in a breathe. "Jesus, you're fucking blunt." It slipped out, maybe as a desperate attempt to keep my face from heating up any further than it already had. Or maybe swearing at an alpha was the way my mind had decided to go, considering the day had left me questioning the merits of being alive.

He only chuckled much to my relief. "Suppose I'd never hear that from an omega. You've got some balls swearing at a potential heir to Darling Enterprise."

I blinked. I opened my mouth to talk. Nothing came out. The cool air of the night was starting to turn into a punishing chill.

"Must be the Irish genes, eh? You are Irish aren't you?"

"Maybe," I muttered out, not meeting his eyes. Apparently, I did have a death wish. Not answering an alpha's question would certainly be conducive to attaining said wish. And apparently this was a very important alpha.

There was a certain satisfaction in letting him know that I, a measly delta, had in fact never heard of this oh so important name. His face twisted up in confusion and little bit of annoyance. I could almost hear the words, You've never heard of us? Everyone has heard of us!

I was surprised when another, almost smug smile returned to the man's face.

"Well then, I guess I'll have to introduce you. Right this egregious wrong, as they say."

I raised an eyebrow as he handed me a card of gold with silver letters, right out of the pocket of his long black peacoat. My calloused hand brushed up against his hand clasped in a leather glove.

"May I have a name?" He said finally.

As I glanced down at what looked like a business card, I said, "Conrad Fitzroy."

"You are Irish," he grinned like a fourth grader being given candy. It was ridiculous and a little enticing to see such an expression on the alpha's face. I rolled my eyes as visibly as I possibly could.

"Well, Conrad, you'll have to call me back. How does a Friday evening sound?"

I didn't answer, instead opting to look down at the card. There was a phone number, Darling Enterprise etched in the top right corner, an address and a name.

Joseph Darling. I smiled. It was probably too easy, something his friends most likely joked about daily, but I couldn't help myself, seeing his last name. I was fully ready to make a stupid and most likely suicidal quip about it, but when I looked up, he was gone.

How freaking cliche, I thought. Like I was some omega in a bad romantic comedy. Except I wasn't an omega. He was either deaf and blind or pulling off some cruel joke. No alpha picked up a delta.

Why not humor him, though? After all, it's not like I'd be in Portland or Oregon for long.

-8-

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