Page 26 of The Good Boys Club

“This whole time!”

“Why does this feel like I’m on trial?” Mash said. “I’ve spoken about Dee-Dee so much. I’ve told you everything I know about her. Didn’t realise you needed her full birth name. Anything else you want? Grandmother’s maiden name? First pet? International Wolf ID number?”

“You’re being a facetious dick,” I argued back. “If I’d known Dylan West was your cousin—”

“Technically not my cousin,” Mash interrupted.

I ignored him. “If I’d known who this infamous Dee-Dee was, I would have—”

This time I cut myself off. What would I have done? Applied for a position at Byte Tech sooner? Muscled in with his family in order to gain some kind of favouritism? Could I still do that? There was a big job going in her company, and like James had said, she chose her leadership roles based on vibes, not boxes ticked. What better opportunity to rub elbows with her than at her extended pack’s Harvest Fest celebrations, when everybody was fuelled by delicious food and family reunions and festive cheer?

“What would you have done?” Mash said, pulling me out of the moment. His voice was still sharp.

“I’ve always wanted to work for Byte Tech,” I said. “I guess I’m just a little annoyed you didn’t tell me. I could already be living my dream.”

The fight left him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

Of course Mash never knew. I never told him. I had kept so much of myself from him.

Beside us, Gideon reached across my desk and swiped a cookie from the packet.

“Giddy, this can’t be repeated yet, but James is selling Howl. Byte Tech has a big job opening and I’m thinking of applying . . .”

“Oh my gods,” Mash said.

Gideon said nothing. He chewed his biscuit. The mastication seemed to echo throughout the empty office.

“I need to pee again,” I lied, and took myself out of the workspace.

I headed to the rooftop, not the bathroom. Took the lifts right to the top. The last time I was up here was seven and a half months ago for the annual Howl company Winter Fest do. The party was in the restaurant on the ground floor. It was crowded and loud and hot, and too much for me, so I did what I always did. I ran towards the fresh air.

Mash had followed me, and produced a joint from nowhere. I’d told him I didn’t want to smoke because I’d get the munchies and I didn’t want to go back downstairs to the party. I wanted to stay up here forever. Just me and him. At which point, he’d opened his jacket like an old-time watch salesman to show eight different chocolate bars duct taped to the lining.

“I raided the vending machine on the tenth floor.” He’d passed me the joint.

“I’m thinking about quitting,” I’d said, taking a drag.

“Weed or work?”

“Work. The job,” I’d confirmed.

“You say this every single year. Every Winter Fest you’re like,‘I’m gonna leave in Jan, look for something else.’But you’re still here.”

“It’s just . . . it’s safe and guaranteed. And the pay is great, and my boss is amazing, but it’s the job itself, it’s . . .”

“Slowly killing you from the inside out?”

I’d nodded. “I’ve just never found a good enough opportunity to leave it for. Got any Peanut Goobers in that jacket of yours?”

Now here I was, having a very similar crisis again. Only this time, my hand was being forced. Sort of. James would sell the company, and this was exactly the type of moment I’d been waiting for. Wasn’t it? A push in the right direction, and a chance to put my case forward for a dream job.

The risk-assessor part of my brain tried to think up reasons why pretending to be Mash’s mate was a terrible idea. And it was . . . a terrible idea. Awful.

So why couldn’t I pick out a single reason not to do it?

Sure, it would mean sleeping in the same room as Mash—the man I’d been in love with since we met fifteen years ago. In his childhood bedroom to be precise. I’d slept in there with him before. He had bunk beds. Mash took the top, even though his legs hung an entire foot off the end. It wasn’t like we’d be sharing a bed.

Sure, I’d have to lie to his pack, his family, but aside from the reality of our relationship, would I really be lying? I loved Mash. I was always happy to talk about him. Always happy to work him into conversation so that I could talk about him.

---