Page 2

Chapter Two

Juliana

“H old still,” I demand, gripping his jaw. My brother is a pain in my ass.

“Jules, easy,” he hisses, trying to pull away.

“Don’t be a baby. If you want to fight with badasses, you must learn to be one,” I scold.

“Why do you have to be a bitch about it?” he whines. I slather the cut on his forehead with cream and slap a bandage on it.

“Because I’m sick of nursing you after your fights,” I growl, shoving the medical supplies into the bag beside the couch.

“You went to school. Isn’t that your job, nursing?” He sits up, dabbing the covered cut.

“You know that’s not what I do. I couldn’t go. Remember? Mom stole my tuition.” I stand from the edge of the cushion, my hands on my hips. “I’m tired of being the only grown-up in the family. Mom has never been much of a mom, but I thought you would mature eventually.” I sigh and walk to the kitchen. “Levi, stop letting your friend influence you.” Reaching for a glass, I fill it with water. “He got you into this.” I swing the cup, motioning toward his head.

“Stanly has been my friend for years,” he says.

“Yes, I know.” I take a sip. Stanly is an asshole. He uses my brother to win money. Being in the room with him is uncomfortable for me. I don’t know why his girlfriend sticks around. “Why can’t you see he’s a bad guy?”

“Sis, he’s been there for me. You know how hard it was growing up with Mom. He helped me cope. I can’t end our friendship.” We’ve had this conversation before, but I hoped one day he’d realize Stanly is bringing him down.

“How much did he take this time?” I ask. Levi enters fights, and Stanly encourages him to keep doing it. Apparently, in a few years, Stanly will inherit a shit-ton of money from his parents’ estate. He has promised to pay Levi back all the money he’s taken from him when he does.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Right.” I slam down my cup. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“I won. The wounds were small.”

“What about the nights you lose? Don’t you remember how bad it gets?” There have been many nights he can barely walk.

“I’m fine.” He jumps to his feet, holding his arms wide. “I won’t come here anymore if you are sick of taking care of me.” He grabs his coat and moves to the door, but pauses. This is usually the moment I stop him. He knows exactly what to say to make me feel guilty, but not this time.

“I love you, Levi.” I turn to face him. “Please, get your shit together. Don’t bring Stanly here again. I don’t like him.”

“Fine,” he snaps, opening the door. “Thanks,” he says with an angry twist to his lips before leaving and slamming the door.

I sink into the kitchen chair, dropping my head to the table's surface. My black hair covers my face. Crossing my arms over my stomach, I try to hold in the pain.

Stanly is a coyote shifter. Before he shifted in front of me, I thought those creatures were only real in fairy tales and dreams. Being human and never seeing such a sight was shocking at first. After the truth settled in, I took it as another fact of my odd life. Why wouldn’t there be this whole other world? I wondered if I knew other shifters and had been living cluelessly. I can understand their need to keep it a secret. Many humans would love to use them or kill them.

My mom jumped from relationship to a worse relationship. She was the queen of the guilt trip, and Levi was more susceptible to it. He met Stanly when he was fifteen, and they have been close ever since. At the time, I understood Levi’s need to have a friend who would do anything to help my brother forget about his bad home life, including spending his parents’ money on him. However, I didn’t agree with most of Stanly's methods. Many nights, my phone would ring, and I would have to bail my brother out of trouble. He knew I would do anything to keep us together.

A year ago, Stanly told him there was a place that paid you to fight and that he had friends there. This started a year of me patching my brother up and Stanly talking half of the money he made if he won. My objection isn’t with the fighting but with Stanly taking advantage of my brother again and again. He swears he will pay it all back, but I have my doubts. I believe Stanly uses the fights as an excuse, as if Levi owes him from all the money he spent years ago. The fights are varied—both shifters and humans fight—but Levi only steps in the ring with humans.

Pushing off the table, I scoot the chair back and move to the door, locking it. I shut off all the lights as I walk to my bedroom. I live in a small apartment where my living room, kitchen, and dining room are in the same room. My bedroom is small, and the bathroom is attached. I live simply, partly because it’s necessary, and partly because I have to be prepared for a day when I have to help what’s left of my family. I indulge in little things; pillows, blankets, and fuzzy socks. They give me a sense of comfort. I get ready for bed, stripping to my underwear and brushing my teeth and hair. As I wash my face, I twist back and forth, studying my body. My boobs are mostly where they are supposed to be, even though I’m creeping closer to my forties. I’m thirty-six and on the downward slide, very aware things can change overnight. I’ve got curves and a healthy sex drive, but I rarely have relationships. Trusting men is difficult, which isn’t surprising considering my past.

Sighing dramatically, I shut off the light and walk to my bed. Pulling down the blankets, I slide on my socks, settle in the middle of the mattress, and snuggle in.

My mom is a human who is selfish and money hungry. An overall bad person. There are bad people of every kind. Stanly and my mom are examples of very different species, yet they use the people they claim to love.

Janet, my loving mother, is a career scammer. My dad walked away when I was nine. He packed all his shit one day, told my mom to fuck off, and left. He barely glanced my way as he slammed the door. I should be mad, but I get why he did it. He was sick of dealing with a woman who cheated on him and spent every dime he made on alcohol, parties, and other men.

Since I turned fourteen, I’ve worked. My first job was at a restaurant, cleaning tables. I was grateful for the free meal they gave me, knowing Mom didn’t have food in the house. I would use some of the money I made to feed Levi and hide the rest. Even at that age, I knew Mom would steal it if she knew where it was. I got older and graduated to working as a waitress. I couldn’t get away with hiding all my money, so I gave her half and told her that’s all I had. I worked my ass off, going to school and working once the day was done. I didn’t spend time with friends on the weekends but worked at whatever job I could get. I didn’t have much of a childhood since I had to be the adult.

That was my life. In some ways, it still is. I don’t live with my mom, but she is very much a part of it. Unfortunately, she calls several times a week, begging for money or to complain about the man of the month dumping her and taking all her money away. I’m ashamed to say that I have given her what she’s wanted several times just to get her to stop calling. I don’t make lots of money. Working as a receptionist at a hotel, even a nice one, doesn’t pay that well. I also work as a waitress at a bar a few nights a week.

Closing my eyes, I try to relax, hoping my dreams are filled with someone who takes care of me for a change. I’ve given up my dreams for the future. I wish I could have finished my nursing degree. I like taking care of people, making a difference in someone's life, but I’ve been stuck caring for two people who don’t appreciate it. I’m so fucking tired of being strong. Love is never given freely by my family. They say it after I give them what they want. I wonder what it is like to feel it from someone who doesn’t take from me.

I doubt I will ever find that kind of love.

“Sir,” I say sweetly, smiling so brightly my cheeks hurt. “I can upgrade you to another room.” My hand clenches the pen I’m gripping.

“You don’t understand.” He pounds his fist on the counter. “I found a hair on my pillow,” he thunders. I have to force my eyes not to stray to his balding head.

“As I said, I am so sorry.” The customer is a rich asshole, and nothing I have said is making him cool off. I have been on my feet all day, catering to customers like him. It’s taking all my restraint not to punch him.

“Sorry doesn’t mean shit,” he snaps, splaying his hand flat. “What about the emotional damage?” I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood.

“I can reimburse you for the room and upgrade you,” I repeat the same sentence for the tenth time. At the customer's insistence, I have already called my manager, who told me to do exactly what I’m attempting to do.

“It’s not good enough.” The only reaction I allow is the twitch of my eye.

“I also have free drink coupons for the hotel bar,” I offer, sliding them toward him. I resist plunging the pen into his eye.

“Damn, that’s an excellent deal.” I slide my gaze to a stunning blonde. She leans beside him, propping her elbow on the counter, giving me a wink before focusing on the man. She has short blonde hair that’s naturally tousled, a trim, compact body, and an outfit that screams confidence. “I mean, a free room and drinks. How did you get so lucky?” She leans toward him, fluttering her fingers over his hand.

“Well, I suppose,” he says, facing her. “Are you staying here?” I fight the roll of my eyes. Men are so predictable. He wouldn’t flirt with me, thinking I’m beneath him.

“I am.” She smiles, but I can tell it’s fake. “I’m meeting some family. Very boring, but it has to be done.” She sighs dramatically, but he’s convinced and nods sympathetically.

“Of course.” He grins and scans her up and down. “If you're up for a drink sometime,” he says, holding out a business card.

“That would be great,” she says. “You’re probably tired from traveling. Why don’t you settle in your clean room?”

“Right, right,” he mumbles, glaring at me. “Key,” he demands.

I drop the pen and place the key card in his open palm. “Thank you so much, Sir. Please let me know if you have any issues with this room.” I smile wider.

“Uh-huh.” He nods at the blonde and walks away.

“What a dick,” she snorts. “Some people love to complain about every fucking thing.” She waves toward my face. “I bet that hurts.” I lose my smile, rubbing my jaw.

“All the time,” I say. I knew she was acting. “You were good with him.”

“I’ve had to deal with my fair share of assholes,” she responds.

“Thank you. He wasn’t going to be happy with anything I said,” I say.

“They rarely are,” she snorts.

“Are you staying here?” I push up with my toes and don’t see any bags by her feet.

“A friend got me a room. I’m waiting for my girlfriends,” she explains, folding her arms across the counter. “My name’s Sally.”

“Juliana, but you can call me Jules.” She isn’t the usual customer.

“Well, Jules,” she says, widening her eyes. “I’m going to have to stay out very late every night to avoid the suit.” She motions over her shoulder.

“Sorry about that,” I say, wrinkling my nose. “I’ll run interference if I’m here.”

“Deal.” She looks over her shoulder, and I follow her gaze. Two women are walking quickly toward Sally. “They have arrived.” She looks back at me and takes a step away. “You should join us when you aren’t working. I have a feeling we’d get along.” Her expression is odd, like she knows something I don’t.

“Sure,” I reply. I don’t have any friends, so a night out would be fun, and for some reason, I’m excited to know Sally.

“Great.” She digs in her clutch, pulling out her phone. “Put your number in.” I quickly do as she asks. “Later, Jules.” She grins, waves her hand while holding her phone, and saunters to her friends.

“Who was that?” Jen, my co-worker, whispers.

“That was Sally.” I blink and look at her. “I think she has superpowers.”

“She certainly calmed the customer.” She looks me over. “She also convinced you to do something other than work.” Jen moves back to her area.

Jen is correct. All I do is work or sleep. She’s probably still mad because I missed her birthday party. I committed to going, but the bar owner called me in, and I forgot to tell her I couldn’t make it. I’m not great at making friends. There have only been a handful of other times my coworkers have invited me out, and every time, I decline.

I glance at the clock; thankfully, it’s almost the end of my shift. Lifting my left foot, I prop my hip against the low counter, attempting to relieve some pressure. I despise my uniform. All of the receptionists have to wear a navy-blue skirt and matching blazer. The heels are a must, which I learned when I wore flats on the first day of the job. I thought they were kidding. They supply you with the outfit and an ivory shirt with buttons up to your neck to wear underneath the blazer. I hate the ivory shirt. I usually can get away with wearing anything that is white, but I forgot to do laundry. Instead, I am wearing a black, silky tank. My neck is bare, and I have been expecting someone in management to say something. At the very least, I thought Letty would give me the stink eye.

Letty is perfect. Perfect in job performance, customer service, and kissing the boss' ass at every opportunity. The first time I said fuck at work, I thought she was going to faint. Her hair, clothes, and posture are never out of place.

I strongly dislike Letty.

Switching feet, I see her float by, sweet-talking a customer. Figures.

My eyes roll toward the clock. Fifteen minutes.

Maybe I’m not cut out for customer service, especially in a fancy hotel. My mouth has a mind of its own. Jeff, who usually works the overnight shift, asked me out. He thinks very highly of himself, and when I gasped, “why?” , he didn’t appreciate it. I guess he’s cute, but I don’t go for cocky guys who think they deserve your attention. Luckily, we usually work different shifts. Sometimes, we pass each other and he glares. He’s the kind of guy who doesn’t like the word no. Several times, I say something in my head, and when everyone stares at me, I realize the words float out of my mouth.

It’s a problem. Most people steer clear of me after they experience my word vomit; unfortunately, my mom is not one of them. My brother ignores my rants and just does whatever the fuck he wants. Mom will cry her fake tears and hold her hand out.

Ten minutes. I switch feet again.

“Are you almost done, Juliana?” Fuck, Letty snuck up on me. I smooth my expression.

“Yes, Letty.” I blind her with my smile.

“Any plans? A nice date?” She smirks and I want to punch her.

“I don’t go out with nice,” I say, curving my hand over my hip. “Nice is boring. I like men who know what to do with their hands.” I wiggle my fingers on my other hand.

“Real classy, Juliana,” she gasps.

“That’s me, pure class.” I wink, and she sneers before twirling away. I’ve seen Jeff with Letty and I think they deserve each other. I hope he asks her out so he will stop looking at me as if I wounded him.

“You can’t help yourself,” Jen says, shaking her head.

“I try, but I’m never successful,” I sigh. This is probably why I don’t have friends.

Five minutes. I inch away from the desk and slowly walk down the hallway to the employee break room and the locker where I store my things.

“Have a good night,” Jen says behind me, and I wave over my shoulder.

Once out of sight, I pick up the pace, my feet protesting. I usually work here during the day, but Jeff called in sick. They asked me to stay through the evening. Luckily, I didn’t have a shift at the bar.

I unlock my locker and reach for my phone. We aren’t allowed to have it while working, which is a blessing. It gives me a break from answering my mom’s calls. Looking at the screen, I see she called twice, a record low for a whole day. I’m surprised and suspicious when I see Stanly’s name. I missed three calls from him. The only reason he would call me at eight o'clock at night is because of Levi.

Shit.

I snag my keys and hit his number as I run out the door. My patience is tested when he doesn’t answer. Asshole must have gotten my brother in trouble. I try again as I push the door to leave the hotel.

“Yeah?” he answers.

“Yeah? That’s how you answer your phone? What’s going on? You called me.” I grind my teeth as I skid to a stop by my car.

“No worries,” he says. “Levi used my phone to call you. I told him not to bother you.”

“Stanly, if you don’t tell me what the fuck is going on,” I threaten while sliding behind the wheel. “I’m going to gut you.”

“Fuck, alright. He’s a little busted up.”

“Excuse me.” I put the phone on speaker, drop it into the cup holder, and hurry out of the parking space. “How hurt is he?” My tires squeal as I leave the parking lot.

“I mean…”

“Send me the address,” I demand.

“What?” He could be being an ass, but the noise in the background is extreme.

“The. Address. Now.”

“Alright, alright.” Fucker hangs up. Lucky for him, my phone buzzes with an incoming text.

Pulling off the road quickly to enter the address into the map app, I take several breaths, trying to calm down. My hands are shaking as I carefully get back on the road. I try to stay around the speed limit, but my nerves are jumping.

I’m going to kill Stanly.