Page 2 of Overbooked at Dragon's Landing

Sometimes I wondered why I even stayed there, but the pay was decent and the job market around here not too great. I couldn’t just leave because the boss gave me a dressing down I didn’t deserve. Again. He had a tendency to bring his personal life to work, and as his marriage deteriorated, so did his attitude toward the rest of us.

Ralph wanted me to go to HR, but I was hoping to wait it out. He was actually pretty decent until recently. But a few more days like today, and I might take his advice and send an email. For tonight, I was just glad to get home and shower it all away.

Of course, traffic was worse than any day in recent history, and my music app stopped working, so I didn’t even have the distraction to stop running the day over in my mind. In theory, it should take me about twenty minutes to get home, but in real time, most days it was more like thirty-five. And today, it was heading toward a full hour.

Inching along, I tapped the steering wheel, trying not to get too frustrated. There had been more than enough of that at the office. But the guy cruising along the right shoulder in hopes of getting past the rest of us made me gogrr. At least until a car about three ahead of me purposefully shifted just enough to the right to prevent the inconsiderate driver from getting any farther along. I did hold my breath a little, hoping I wasn’t about to see road rage in action, but other than leaning on the horn, the blocked driver didn’t express his opinion about being held back. Maybe he thought it was karma or something. I couldn’t ever figure out what someone who was not only breaking the law but being inconsiderate of his fellow drivers was thinking. About fiveminutes later, I came alongside the reason we were all held up. A five-car fender bender featuring drivers who had no idea that when damage is minimal and there are no injuries, you move the vehicles to the side of the road so that others could continue on their way.

Someone should make a sign telling them so…wait! There was one right next to the silver electric truck with all the sharp edges, one of which was no longer sharp. Those vehicles set my teeth on edge. They reminded me of superhero villain cars. This one was dented on about three sides, and the owner was standing beside it screaming at all the other drivers, some of whom were giving him back some of his own.

“This is why traffic is such a nightmare,” I groaned. It seemed each car wanted a good look at the problem and was crawling slowly past.

Finally, I reached my exit and escaped the thicker traffic. I just wanted to have something to eat and crawl onto bed. Maybe a sandwich and chips. I sure wasn’t up to anything more complicated than that.

But when I pulled into the driveway and let myself in through the kitchen door, I found Ralph, my friend and housemate, sitting at the kitchen table behind a large round cake.

“What’s going on?” The cake was covered in white frosting and topped with a chocolate glaze that dripped down the sides. A whole bunch of candles finished the decorations. “Is it someone’s birthday?”

Ralph, a wolf shifter and my friend for almost as long as I could remember, produced kitchen matches and struck one on the side of the box. “It’s for yours.” He touched the flame to each of the candle wicks and set them ablaze. “Happy Birthday, Craig!”

I instinctively made a wish—same one I’d made since I could remember, that my bestie would see me as more than just that—and blew them out before remembering something important. “It’s not my birthday.” That fact did not stop me from accepting a big slice. The cake itself was chocolate, and the whole combination was my favorite. “Mmm, you make a great cake, though.”

Tender crumb, frosting that was light as a cloud, billowy but not too sweet, and the drip added an extra-dark-bittersweet flavor.

“I know when your birthday is. I’ve celebrated it with you every year since we used to go to the pizza place with the huge rat that made you cry.” I smirked at him. “Imagine you thinking I didn’t know the date.”

“I didn’t cry, and that thing was scary. You didn’t like it either.”

“No, I didn’t, but I did like the games and the pizza.”

On that, we’d agreed. But as soon as we were old enough to have our own pocket money, we took it elsewhere for our games. Somewhere without anyone wearing a giant suit to look like a rodent of any kind. It was the first thing we ever bonded over. Mutual dislike of men in animal suits who looked like they wanted to bite little boys.

“Then why are we celebrating now?” I asked and took another big bite. “Any ice cream?” I asked, probably flashing chocolate-coated teeth.

“Yes on ice cream.” He hopped up from where he was eating his own cake and started for the freezer, and as to the date of the celebration, it’s because we won’t be home for your birthday next week.”

“It’s a workday, yeah.” I was rapidly growing confused. “But so is today.”

“By not at home, I mean, we are…well…let me give you two scoops.” He buried my cake in espresso chocolate-chip, the perfect complement to the other flavors. “Enough?”

“Yeah, that’s about six scoops.” Probably more like three, but a lot. “I’m starting to worry here. You are celebrating my birthday early because we won’t be here…is someone dying?”

“What? No! Why would you think that?”

“Because you’ve never dished up more than one scoop since we’ve been mature adults who are responsible for our own health.” I scooped up a fortifying bite, being sure to get all the flavors on my spoon. Even concerned, I savored the deliciousness.

I’m only human, after all, unlike many of my friends.

“Oh my gods.” He piled ice cream on his slice too, a veritable mountain of coffee and chocolate and cream all blended together into our favorite treat. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just…I always bake your cake and I am not sure if I’ll be able to do that where we’ll be.” He shoveled in a bite, sighing. “I should open a bakery.”

I chuckled, a little reassured by what he said but compelled to point out, “It would be a pretty limited product list. Considering the only thing you can make is birthday cake.”

“Your dad gave me all six of his recipes for them,” he protested. “We could call the place Birthday Cakes and No, Etc.”

“Ralph, I’m going to ask your wolf to bite you if you don’t tell me right now what the big secret is.”

“How would that even work?” He ate more cake and ice cream, enjoying making me beg.

“Not sure, but I bet it would hurt.” I stared him down. “Talk.”

---