Page 2 of Howling Mad
“You can do this,” I whisper and smooth the front of my blouse, still damp from coffee, but there’s no visible stain.Good enough.My reflection nods with slightly too much enthusiasm, but I go with it.
I scramble to gather my bag, pausing to rescue the battered résumé from the counter.Coffee stains still cling to the corner, but maybe I can replicate it at the printing store.Running out the door, I nearly trip over an unopened box labeled “Books.”My foot slides, and I steady myself against the wall with a muttered curse.One more reason to hurry and finish unpacking.
Stepping onto the city sidewalk is still a novelty.That blend of exhaust, coffee shops, and too many perfumes all swirling in the air jolts me fully awake.My senses flare, and I inhale, catching undertones of fresh bread from the bakery across the street.This is my second week here, and I’m still dazzled by the energy.
I hurry along, weaving between business-suited professionals.I barely have enough time to stop at the copy center, but I manage to print a fresh résumé after a short battle with the self-serve printer.The machine gives me attitude in the form of paper jams and cryptic error messages.My watch informs me I have fifteen minutes to spare.Anxiety clenches in my belly as I half-jog to the address listed in my phone.
Romance Expected Dating Service occupies the second floor of a narrow building wedged between a nail salon and a ramen shop.A modest sign in swirling script beckons from the glass door, and I climb the stairs and try to calm the flutter in my chest.Interviews always make me jumpy, and this is the last sort of job I anticipated ever trying to get.
Inside, the waiting room is unexpectedly cozy.It has red walls with whimsical floral patterns and a small table set with magazines about relationships and shifter culture.A tall shelf holds Polaroid photos of smiling couples, each framed in cheap but cheerful frames with hearts drawn in marker.Some photos look like awkward prom pictures, with overly dramatic lighting, matching outfits, and enthusiastic grins.
A bright voice calls from somewhere behind the front desk.“Hello, there.Give me just a second.”
Within moments, a woman emerges, her wide smile lighting up her warm brown eyes.She’s about my height, with vibrant auburn hair styled in a sleek bob.Something about the subtle pattern around her eyes is reminiscent of red panda markings, but maybe my imagination is in overdrive.She wears a bold red caftan that accentuates her curvy frame as well as the color theme of the room.
She gives me a big smile that feels genuine.“You must be Finley Morgan.I’m Regina Carrington.Everyone calls me Red, though.”
That grin is infectious, so I return it.“It’s nice to meet you.Thank you for having me.”
She gestures for me to follow her down a short hallway.“No need to be so formal.I’m the one who should be grateful you applied.I can never keep an assistant for more than a few months.They discover the clientele is…a tad unusual, and they vanish.”She winks over her shoulder.“Let’s chat in my office.”
I do my best to keep my face neutral, clearing my throat before asking, “Unusual how?”
She shoots me a mischievous look.“You’ll find out, but let’s not scare you off too soon.”
Her office is a cheerful explosion of color.A shelf behind her desk brims with figurines of red pandas in various poses.Some are cartoonish, some carved from wood, and others are porcelain.One is clear crystal with red gem accents, and it dominates her collection, arranged to be the centerpiece.
On the opposite wall, a huge bulletin board features more Polaroids pinned in neat rows, each labeled with a name and date.Some have hearts or stars drawn around them with the words SUCCESSFUL MATCH in pink marker across the top.She waves an arm at the comfy armchair in front of her desk.“Have a seat.”
I set my fresh résumé on her desk and smooth my skirt.The aroma of vanilla and something faintly fruity wafts around me, likely her perfume.I straighten my posture as though expecting my mother to chastise me for slouching.
“I appreciate the opportunity.I’ve worked in HR before, so I’m used to dealing with personalities.”
She skims through my résumé with a thoughtful hum.“You have a decent administrative background and also some psych credits in college.That can help.We’re a small operation, but we have a big client list.”She sets aside the pages.“Before we dig too deeply, why don’t you tell me why you want to work at a dating service?It’s not a typical career for someone from your background.”
My stomach twists.She sounds genuinely curious, not accusatory.“I… I just moved here.My father’s the gamma of a very traditional wolf pack, and I didn’t quite fit in.My parents love me, but they have a strong idea of how I should be living my life.”
Her eyes gleam with humor.“They want to marry you off to the biggest, baddest alpha in the region?”
A snort escapes me.“You have no idea.”I realize how that must sound.“Apologies if that’s too candid, but I’m a bit worn out by it all.Twelve different matches in three months can do that, and my mother’s unstoppable.”
Red leans forward, resting her chin on her hand as her grin widens.“Twelve in three months?That’s a record.I’m surprised you’re still standing.”
I laugh huskily.“I moved to the city because the constant attempts were getting out of hand.This job popped up in my search, and I thought, maybe I can do something interesting, maybe help others in a more constructive way than forced blind dates.”And the salary is enough to cover my rent, though I’ll still need a roommate.I don’t say that out loud since sounding desperate might not make the right impression
Her expression softens.“That’s exactly the vibe we need here.Our clients are mostly shifters, some of whom don’t fit the mold.They need a place where they can find companionship without the usual judgments.That’s what we do.”
I glance around at the playful décor.The idea of working in a space that respects individuality sounds promising.“That’s refreshing.”
She hops up from her chair with abrupt energy.“Give me one sec.I have a file up top I want to show you.”
She strides to a tall bookshelf, her eyes scanning the top row.Without warning, she shifts.Her shape condenses, her face morphs, and bright auburn fur replaces human skin from her neck down.She’s a red panda like I thought, being small but dexterous.Claws extend so she can climb the wooden shelves as though they’re tree branches, and she rummages on the highest shelf.That transformation is fluid, quick, and it leaves me gaping.
A triumphant squeak emerges from her.She shifts back in mid-climb, turning halfway into her human form, enough to hook her arm around a ledge and stretch to grab a manila folder.Then she drops lightly to the floor, returning to full human shape before my wide eyes.I imagine that’s why she’s wearing a loosely flowing caftan, so she doesn’t shift and ruin her clothes.
She waves the folder.“I keep telling myself to buy a step stool, but my shifter form is way more fun.”
The display of agility stuns me for a moment.It’s not that I haven’t seen others shift since my entire hometown is all wolves.Seeing a red panda shift in the middle of an office is a new experience, though, and I grin.“That’s definitely one approach.”
