Page 3 of Coco and the Misfits (The Candyverse #4)

COCO

“Y ou’re acting weird today,” June mutters as we make our rounds at the gym, glaring at me instead of staring at the sexy booties on display.

“Don’t I know it?” I huff. “Sorry.”

“Is everything okay?”

“I need to get another job,” I lie. Okay, not entirely a lie. This matter does worry me. Maybe I’ve hit the nail on the head. I don’t do well under stress.

“Oh no. What happened with the old lady you were working for? Did she?—?”

“She’s fine. Her daughter has financial difficulties and decided to find cheaper help.” I shrug. “I get it. I couldn’t ask for less, though, or I wouldn’t have enough to live on.”

“That sucks,” June whispers. By mutual understanding, we’re heading out of the gym. “Can’t you find anything in the arts? That’s what you like.”

“I doubt it. Don’t worry, I’ll find something else.”

I don’t have a degree in art or any other qualification. I’ve done all sorts of jobs, from cleaning maid to dog sitter to cashier. My family isn’t poor, but Dad’s investments didn’t pay off and I don’t want to ask for money.

I like being independent, being able to afford my own little apartment and the simple joys in life like frothy cappuccinos and chocolate cakes, fun nights out and vintage clothes.

And I’d hate to return home with my tail between my legs and admit I failed.

Failed to study, failed to make enough to live on, and failed to find a pack.

“Are you really going through with it?” June asks and I blink, not following. “Taking a martial arts class with Zach?”

“Oh. Nah.” I laugh and wave a dismissive hand. “Of course not. Can you imagine me attacking people? Hai-yah!”

She snickers. “The Pink Ninja. Terribly scary. So were you joking?”

Was I?

“I wasn’t thinking,” I say. “That’s all.”

“I mean, Zach is hot. Like, off-the-charts hot.” She’s giving me a thoughtful look. “Coco, are you falling in l?—?”

“No.” I shake my head for emphasis. “Nope.”

“—in lust,” she finishes. “Look, I get it. He’s damn pretty. And he’s an alpha.”

“With a big cock, I know.” I sigh. “Dammit.”

June’s face colors again. “Oh. How would you know that?”

“I have eyes. Duh. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed his package. I know you have.”

“I thought you…” She waves a hand vaguely in the air. “Did you ever…?”

“Hook up with him? No. But I wouldn’t mind going down on my knees for Zach, to be honest with you. That cock looks like a good mouthful.”

Her cheeks turn redder. She chokes a little. Maybe she’s imagining it, too. “I bet he wouldn’t object.”

“To me going down on him? Who knows? He has a gaggle of betas and omegas following him around.”

“He likes you, Coco.”

“I don’t know about that. Maybe as a little sister. Not a lover.”

I frown at her dark blush. She fancies him, too. Who wouldn’t? That could be why I hesitate to flirt with him. He’s hot property and I don’t know if I can afford him.

I lead June down the street toward our building, feeling unsatisfied with today’s venture and fascinated with her still red face.

This girl is no blushing maiden, take my word for it. After all, she is my collaborator on these sniff-out-the-hunks missions. But her skin flushes at the drop of a coin and makes her look like an innocent little girl.

As for me, I rarely blush. And I can keep a straight face, because one thing you need to know right off the bat is that I have no filter and the inside of my head is a filthy, filthy place.

The only thing that can make me blush is my own dirty thoughts, and I have plenty of those.

I am a girly girl, okay? Loving sex doesn’t contradict my nature. People think omegas are sweet babies, but we’re all sex-crazed bitches, and that includes the boys.

“Do you really think he likes me?” I ask as she lingers by my door before climbing the rest of the stairs up to her apartment.

“Who?”

“Santa. Who do you think? Zach.”

She giggles, looking much more like her normal self. “Sure. It’s the way he looks at you, didn’t you notice?”

“I bet he looks like that at all the omegas.”

“He never looks like that at me,” she says and leaving me with that little tidbit, she skips up the stairs and vanishes around the next landing.

Well, damn .

* * *

Evening is falling and I’m curled up on my divan-like window-seat, a sea of pink-hued pillows and rugs around me.

I’m working on a comic I started when I was about fifteen, about a girl born in a world full of dragons, a girl who loses everyone she has ever loved and dies, but then is reborn and vows to take revenge.

Why such a tragic storyline? I don’t know, okay? Maybe it was teenage hormones, moodiness and maudlin-ness. Or simply an allegory of life, the idea that you have to lose everything before you realize what matters and what you need.

Well, all I need is a cat or a small dog and I’m set. Who needs humans when you can have a furry friend by your side? Humans are complicated.

What if that’s what I need? To stop thinking of alphas and just cuddle a cat? Sawyer has a super cute one, Potato, and I’m jealous.

But even Sawyer said it, in a prophetic fit, before he got his pack: animals can’t replace the need for a pack.

Sighing, I draw a black cat next to my comic’s heroine.

This is a scene before her world went to shit.

Her name is Kat and the cat’s name is… Girl?

I giggle to myself. No, the heroine’s name is actually Rae and she returns to life later in the story as something else, something other than human, redefining herself.

A rebirth.

My pen stills against the paper. Is that why I like this story? Could it be this simple? Are we the same, trying to define ourselves against the expectations of the world? Is it?—?

The doorbell rings and I roll onto my back with a groan, flopping against the cushions like a starfish. “June? Is that you?”

“Coco, it’s Ruby! Are you there?”

“Ruby.” I roll to my feet and hurry to open the door because this is unusual. “Rubes. What’s up? Is everything okay? Come on in.”

She steps inside, tugging with one hand at her dark ponytail. “Am I interrupting something?”

“The party is in full swing, as you can see.” I gesture at my empty apartment. “No, Rubes, you haven’t interrupted anything.”

She nods, trudging into my tiny living room, then hesitating.

“Is something wrong with the dogs?” I ask.

My question is justified, all right? No, dogs is not a euphemism for men . Just clarifying that, in case anyone thinks otherwise.

Ruby works with stray and traumatized dogs at a local animal shelter and is often worried about them.

But she shakes her head, plopping herself on my heart-shaped sofa.

Yes, it is heart-shaped.

Yes, it’s also pink.

I do have some other pastel colors as accents, blues and mauves, and the color palette makes my heart happy.

“So what is it, girl? Spill.” I sit across from her in a pale blue rocking chair and start rocking. It can’t be that bad, right? She’s not crying or screaming. Whatever happened seems to have mostly shocked her.

She rubs her hands over her face. They are reddened and scratched. The badge of an animal lover. A tear leaks and rolls down one cheek.

That snaps something in me.

“I’ll bring tea. And cookies,” I decide, grandmother mode kicking in. “Wait right here, okay? Don’t go anywhere.”

I think about locking the front door so she doesn’t escape, but if needed, I can sprint across my tiny apartment and tackle her to the floor. She’s not going anywhere before she tells me what the matter is.

Carrying the steaming teapot and the plate of chocolate cookies to the low table, I serve her a cup. I think that in a past life I must have been a witch in a little cottage in the woods, befriending animals, brewing soups and feeding stray handsome men in need of a gorgeous girl like me.

“Here you go.” I all but shove the tea into her hands. “Drink. And start talking before I sit in your lap and squeeze your cheeks.”

Her eyes widen. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.” I stuff a cookie into my mouth and wave with my teacup for her to start spilling the beans. I hate this feeling of helpless worry that fills me as she wipes her cheeks with one hand, the cup rattling in the other. “Are you certain this problem isn’t dog-shaped?”

“No. It’s... human-shaped.”

“Ah.” I feel I’m on solid ground now. Dogs are great, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve never had one and, although I wish I had a little pet to cuddle with, I wouldn’t know the first thing about them. I shove the plate of cookies closer to her. “Eat.”

My solution to many issues. Probably in reaction to my mom’s healthy beta lifestyle. Sugar has supported me through hard times. Lettuce? Not so much.

Nodding, she sips at the tea, then takes a cookie and clutches it until it starts to crumble. “I shouldn’t have come here. You don’t know me enough and I?—”

“I know you well enough. Take whatever it is off your chest. I’m told it helps.”

She nods again and places the teacup down while continuing to crumble the cookie between her fingers. “There is this guy?—”

“I knew it!” I inhale part of my cookie and choke. Coughing, I wave for her to go on. “Dammit.”

She hesitates. “A guy at the animal shelter. We had... we had a thing.”

“A fling?”

“More than that. At least it felt like more. And then he... he left.”

“To another town? Another planet?”

“No. He’s still right here. He left me to join a pack.”

“That asshole!” I burst out, slamming my teacup down. “How dare he?”

Her eyes widen in alarm. “Coco?—”

“Come here. Hug attack!”

“What? No?—”

I launch myself at her and tackle her backward until her head hits the backrest. Glomping her for all I’m worth, I plant a noisy kiss on her cheek and squeeze her against my boobs.

What can be more comforting than a soft boob-hug, right? And I’m pretty gifted on that front. Plentiful. Boobiful .

She pulls away after a moment and sniffles. “Sorry. It’s nothing tragic. I just needed a shoulder to cry on.”

“Or a boob,” I say, nodding sagely. “My boobs will always be here for you.”

She laughs and I brighten. “Good to know... I guess? Even if I’m not into girls.”

“It’s never too late,” I say, just to make her laugh again.

I mean, really, it happens. I have a friend who discovered she liked girls later in life. But I don’t know how to mend Ruby’s broken heart. She’s a quiet girl. A steadfast friend. She has a heart of gold, and every injured or abandoned animal has a place in it.

“I’ll find the asshole who left you and break his balls,” I mutter. “How dare he choose another over my friend, even if it’s for an established pack? Self-serving idiot.”

“Anyway, I’ll be fine.” Ruby puts on a brave smile and removes herself from my boob cushion. “I should get back to the shelter.”

“Girl, it’s late! It’s almost dinner time.”

“My animals need me. We just brought in an entire family. You should see the puppies!” Her smile is back, blinding bright. Damn, this girl is pretty when she’s happy. “I’m feeding them with a bottle as the mother doesn’t have enough milk, poor thing. You should come see them!”

Puppies. Kittens. Flowers, Rainbows. I can practically feel my eyes go heart-shaped.

“You know what? Why not,” I decide. “One of these days I’ll come visit you.” Then I make a strategic move. “If you promise to come to a girls’ night out with us.”

“Oh no. Not fair.” Her smile falls. “You know I hate going out.”

“I know, you sleep with the chickens. Sorry, I meant dogs. But one time, Rubes. One time, come join us. After all, you need a rebound guy. Let me find you one. I’m a pretty decent matchmaker.”

“But I don’t want?—”

“Yes, you do. Trust me.”

Ruby may officially be an omega, but she has designation dysphoria like me, which makes me feel close to her even though I know her very little.

She thinks she may be a beta, and I think so, too.

Those blood tests are not to be trusted.

Look at our friend Bee. She was declared a beta but turned out to be an omega.

Just like me. Well, hopefully. One day soon.

“Now, shoo,” I tell her, “go pet the puppies and kiss their cute noses for me. I’ll let you know about our night out.”

I wink at her and laugh when she groans.

I like to be weird, but also kind. I’m in the business of confusing people but also helping them. I want to think they appreciate it.

Ruby will warm up to my methods, I’m sure…