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AUbrY

What was supposed to be one night with her turned into a dozen.

Every date, I’d try to think of somewhere new to take her, in public, and fight to keep my hands to myself.

Every night after, we’d wind up in someone’s bed, or the couch, or the seat of my truck.

Some times I’d toss and turn, craving her down to my bones, only to wake and find she’d slipped out of my arms.

It was a sickness I’d never felt before. Like if my heart was away from hers for too long it’d stop beating.

I was also having the best sex of my life.

A life where I’d wake up, feed my cat, do perfectly legal financial things, then call her up and head out. Sometimes we’d eat pizza in a buffet, others we’d stay in and get delivery. Is this what it’s like to be normal?

Well…

I glance to the fruit bowl on the counter.

Inside of it an eggplant slowly rots in on itself.

The eggplant that watched as I fucked her behind the camera.

Look, I know it’s not alive. No shifter could have maintained the farce for that long.

But I also enjoy watching it ooze and turn brown while I get to plow her every night.

A normal man wouldn’t have a grudge against an inanimate vegetable.

My phone dings and I unplug it from the charger.

Sadie: Hey. Got a new box. Gonna be late.

I start to type ‘It better not be any produce’ but quickly delete it. It’s one thing for her boyfriend to be jealous, another for him to be insane and jealous.

Aubry: I could come over and watch.

She’s typing something. I open the fridge and Astin comes running across the counter. “No.” I close it before he can stick his head in. With a carrot in hand, I scratch my stupid cat, and walk toward the sitting room.

Sadie: Right. “Watch.”

Damn. She knows me too well.

Locking the carrot in my jaws like a cigar, I type double handed.

Aubry: You took photos.

Sadie: Blurry ones.

Aubry: So you need more discipline…

No, that’s too much. I delete my text and instead send.

Aubry: So you need more direction

Her side quivers. I take a deep breath, and I swear I can smell her creaming at the thought. Leaving ‘em yearning used to be my MO as the quiet and mysterious mobster. But I wind up in one small town and suddenly I’m eager to put on a leash to be tied to her bedpost. What has this woman done to me?

Sadie: To do what?

Oh, Sadie’s in a feisty mood. A hundred thoughts steamroll through my mind at once. To swat that ass of yours. To bind your hands behind your back while I eat you out. To run my smooth, purple skin between your tits…

I can’t tell her that last one.

Or could I?

Rawer! Astin screams and the sound of his tiny paws scrabbling across tile echoes from the kitchen. “Astin?” I call out. “You okay?”

My finger’s hovering over the keyboard. I’m not too concerned about my cat. He’s been startled by his own reflection before. Do I do it?

Every time I’m with her and we’re not naked—a rare event—I try to start. But then I worry she won’t let me see her naked anymore and chicken out. This was so much easier when it didn’t matter.

I’m an eggplant.

I turn into an eggplant.

You know about werewolves? I’m like that but for vegetables.

Wanna know why I can fuck you all night long? Turgid cell walls! Cause I’m part eggplant.

She’s going to block me.

My finger drops on the eggplant emoji. That’s me. Purple, long body, hard stem, loads of seeds in my white center.

Even if she believes me, would she want that? People don’t go for men that can fit in crisper drawers.

I hear the jangle of Astin’s collar as he trots out to me. “All better, you big goof?”

He doesn’t meow at me, and I look up. Astin leaps onto the sofa with a cucumber in his mouth. As he lays down, he starts to gnaw on the end.

Where did he get…?

My spine hardens. I watch my cat methodically peeling off the skin in small, green curls. The cucumber does nothing. He’s cool all right.

“Astin?” I call to my cat. “Are you supposed to have that?”

My loving, loyal cat stares up at me in defiance, then punctures his fangs deep into the cucumber.

“Sonofa!” the cucumber screams.

Astin hollers in response and flings the cucumber away. As it rolls off the couch, the green skin shifts to the stringy, pale body of a naked man. He lands on his elbows and knees. Blood drips off of his leg with two, fresh puncture wounds.

Just as he turns to glare at my cat, I ram my foot down on his spine, collapsing him to the carpet. “Hello, Cuke.”

“Hey…man. Good to, ugh, see you.” Cuke, one of the fixers of the Squash mafia lays out his hands on the carpet to show he’s not armed. As if he could be. It’s hard to hide a gun inside a cucumber. “Your cat’s not, like, infected, right? Doesn’t have rabies?”

I roll my eyes to Astin who’s glaring down at the man that used to be his catch. He looks about to pounce to try to eat him.

“And if he does?” I ask.

“Just want to know. In case I need to disinfect my wound with bleach.”

“For fuck’s sake, you are not doing that.”

“It works. I swear. Keeps my skin all nice and taut too. No mold getting in there,” Cuke shouts like he’s about to tell me about this one mom doctors hate.

I lean on my leg, pushing him down. “What are you doing here, Cuke? This isn’t your territory.”

“Would you believe I’m on vacation? Was here seeing the Mickey and the Minnie. Ya know. It’s a Small World—”

I dig my ankle down, silencing him before that song gets trapped in my head. “You’re off by about five hundred miles.”

“Oh… That explains the lack of rides.” He twists his head to stare up at me with a look that would chill anyone else to the bone. “…and churros.”

“I could crush you right here,” I threaten, putting all my force into my foot.

Even with his ribs shifting under me and lungs about to pop, he doesn’t make a sound. This fucker’s eerie. I swear, a chef could slice him up on a mandolin and he wouldn’t make a peep.

I let up and Cuke coughs out, “You could, you could. But then you gotta hide a body, and well, them coyotes seem the type to go digging up old bones. If you get my meaning.”

Fuck. He’s right. Last thing I need is to draw more attention to myself. With one last threatening dig, I slip my foot off of him.

“Get up.”

“Thank you, thank you.” He bunches back to his knees then sticks out a hand. “Little help?”

I cross my arms.

“Or not. It’s all good. I can get there on my own. Fuuck. Do not get old, Shadey boy. It is hell on knees. And elbows. And my neck makes this snapping sound whenever I—”

My hand grabs his flapping jaw and pinches. “Why. Are. You. Here?”

“Well, that’s a funny story.”

“So help me if you say it’s not ha ha funny, I will…” He doesn’t care if I toss his bones to the coyote. I glance to Astin and smile. “My cat will eat you whole.”

Cuke’s eyes widen. He stares over at Astin with some innate ancestral fear. “Okay, okay, fine. I’m here to extend an offer.”

“That’s why you were hiding in my house?”

“I was…observing. We needed to make certain.”

I don’t like any of this. “Certain of what?”

Cuke’s squirrely eyes focus like two death lasers. “That you weren’t with Ato anymore.”

I fling his head back and walk away. “What makes you think that?”

“You’re here, in hicksville California, alone.”

“I often travel for the shades. Alone.”

A chuckle like gravel in a tailpipe rattles up Cuke’s wheezy chest. “Don’t play dumb. Everyone knows. Ato’s losing his damn mind hunting for you. Says you were like a son to him. Is that true?”

My solid breath catches. For all the shit he’s put me through, Mr. Ato was the only man to take me in when my life burned. Standing there in the ashes at nineteen, angry and helpless, he offered me more than salvation—he gave me revenge. In exchange, I gave him my life.

And now that I wanted it back, he was coming for me with interest.

“What’s the offer?” I growl at Cuke.

“My generous leaders are looking to recruit.” He scratches his balding head in silent thought. “You.”

I snort. “The Squash don’t recruit outside the family.”

“I know, I know. But you’re almost like one of us. Lots of people could confuse a gangly eggplant for a manly squash. Now I’m not saying you’d be a lieutenant. Got to keep to tradition, but they’re making you a generous offer.”

“I’m certain.” I knew how the chips fell for those who weren’t shifters in the Nightshades. Compensated but no more than a bagman, and treated just as disposable.

“It’d be a job…with protection. Word is Ato’s really gunning for you. But you sign up with us, and he won’t be able to touch you.”

When I ran, I had to burn all my contacts. I didn’t realize that my absence had reached beyond the family. That wouldn’t reflect well on Mr. Ato. It was the kind of thing to make him do something stupid.

“Why me?” I ask. This story isn’t adding up. The Squash keep to the east coast. They don’t give two shits about what happens in Vegas.

Cuke shrugs. “Word is you’ve got a talent for making numbers appear in thin air.”

“Among others.”

He snickers and eyes me down. “So I’ve heard. It’s a good deal. And it’ll give you leverage when the Brassicas—”

“What about the Brassicas?”

Cuke’s eyes widen and his jaw drops. “Nothing. Nothing about them at all.”

No more being nice. I punch Cuke in the gut, hard and fast. He doubles over almost at the point of vomiting, but I know that sweet spot. Clutching his stomach, he wheezes out, “They weren’t lying about that punch. Fuck.”

“What about the Brassicas?” I repeat, refusing to let him flee from this.

“There’s a…a minor misunderstanding between them and the Shades.”

“A misunderstanding…?” The Brassicas are Vegas. Mr. Ato owns one casino, they have six. Only a fucking idiot would mess with them.

He’s not an idiot.

He can’t be.

“Way I hear it.” Cuke staggers up, still clutching his stomach. “You got out just in the nick of time.”

No. Sure, he used to joke about taking them on, being the top veggie, but he wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

He can’t do it.

He’ll…

“Leave.”

“But we were just—”

I grab Cuke by the arm and march him for the door. As he goes, his bare feet skid on the tile.

“What about the offer? We have a good compensation package. Signing bonus. Any dirt you give us on Ato will sweeten the pot—”

I kick open the door and hurl the naked man down the stairs. He tucks and rolls managing to bounce back to his feet. “Tell the Squash to stick their offer up their ass.”

“I’d rather not, if it’s all the same.”

“And if I see you here again, Cuke, there won’t be anything left of you to identify.”

He nods his head. “Fair. That’s fair. I’m going, but please, keep thinking about it. Wouldn’t want a talent like yours to go to waste and all.” With his hands tucked behind his back, he starts to walk off while whistling that fucking Small World tune.

Midway down the driveway, he turns and says over his shoulder, “By the by. That chick of yours is cute.”

Motherfucker. I rush through the house and grab my gun. Cocking it as I go, I shout, “If you fuckers try anything with—”

He’s gone.

Son of a bitch! I nearly squeeze out a shot in rage, but lock up and glance around the area.

A handful of birds chirp from the trees.

Otherwise, it’s dead silent. Shooting off a round will have every cop rushing to see who’s firing wildly out here.

And this gun isn’t exactly registered to me… or anyone.

The Squash gang? I haven’t dealt with them since my parents… I’d be safer strolling down the Strip than pledging my loyalty to them. We all know how far that doesn’t go out there.

And what the fuck is this about the Brassicas?

Growling and muttering under my breath about every cursed thing gone wrong thanks to Brock, I reach for my phone and almost call him .

“Here.”

The mysterious man in the green suit passes me a card. It doesn’t have anything on it but a phone number.

“You call that any time. Anyone gives you shit, you call me. Anyone so much as looks at you funny, you call me. Or, if you need a mango pie.” He smiles, his white teeth gleaming in that perpetually red face. “I love mango.”

In all those years, the offer never changed. Even as the strings grew, winding me up until I couldn’t so much as move in his web, he was still there. A shoulder to lean on. A friend. A…father.

And now he’s going up against the biggest mob in Vegas. Or they’re going to crush him at last. We’d survived by keeping to the south end, doing the piddly jobs the Brassicas didn’t care about. That was never enough for Mr. Ato. Nothing was.

Even after everything that happened. What he did to— My first instinct is still to warn him.

I shake off the bloody fog of memories and stare at my phone. Somehow, in all the commotion, I’d sent Sadie one thing—an eggplant emoji.

Her response, “I know all about that.”

Maybe you should. Maybe I should get you away from here. We could run off together. Away from Mr. Ato, the Brassicas, every other shifter family looking to grow their ranks with a wayward eggplant.

Aubry: You free tonight?

It takes a few minutes for her to get back to me. As I wait, I hunt for tickets to anywhere safe. Somewhere nice. Maybe Cancun.

My phone buzzes and I flip it over. She’s only sent me one word.

Sadie: Duh.