Page 23 of Brutal Alpha Beast
“Because,” Sawyer says. “No one will disturb us while we’re here.”
The guy has a point. Even when we meet up to shoot the shit like we’re doing now, we gather in a council hall. Long wooden tables, wooden chairs, and creaky halls. They’re not exactly the most comfortable of chill-out spots, but if we hang outside, shifters will usually come to disturb us all.
Either a question, a complaint, or a request. At least when we’re in here, pack mates assume we’re talking business. No one wants to interrupt that.
“I am so done with business today,” I remark, leaning back in my chair. No matter how far I lean, I can’t get comfortable.
“Look at this guy,” Sawyer grins. “One full day of witches, and he’s already done.”
“Hey, how do I work the speaker?” Greg asks, crouching down and inspecting the small black box. It’s always the same thing with Sawyer’s speaker, it never works.
“You have to hold down the button on the right,” Sawyer commands absentmindedly.
“Nah,” I say. “I’m not done completely. The witches were helpful, it went fine, it’s just... difficult.”
“Trouble in paradise?” Jasper jokes.
As if I needed to be reminded about Danielle, but today is the first time we’ve met up since I got married. I was expecting questions.
“Marrying a witch is not what I call paradise,” I grunt.
“Woah,” Jasper holds up his hands defensively. “Someone’s in a mood today.”
I suppose I am. I should probably stop talking before I make things worse.
Suddenly, there’s a loud boom, a crackle, and the steady thump of electronic house music. It’s way too loud, damn-near assaulting my eardrums, and noticing the disgruntled frowns on everyone’s faces, Greg turns it down.
“Oh, come on,” Sawyer rocks his head back. “Do we really gotta listen to this crap?”
“It’s not crap!” Greg protests, swaying his head back and forth.
“Raise your hand if you think Greg’s music is crap.”
Jasper, Sawyer, and I all lift one arm up to the wooden ceiling.
Greg rolls his eyes.
“We can take it in turns. That’s fair. A song each?”
Jasper nods, and Sawyer says, “Fine.”
When they pass around the phone that’s controlling the music, I shake my head. I don’t have a song.
“What’s going on with you, man, really?” Sawyer asks.
“Because I don’t have a song?”
“Because you’re grumpy as shit,” Greg calls.
He’s about three beers deep, and somehow, the music has turned back to electric thumping, mind-numbing house.
I know that the grumpier I am, the more questions they’ll ask. I have to keep it under control.
“I’m fine,” I say, taking a long swig of beer. “I’m just concerned about the valley, is all.”
“Uh-uh,” Jasper frowns, raising one hand. “We said no business talk.”
Sawyer shrugs. “He’s right.”
