Fashionably Dead Down Under(101)

“I’ll go.” There was no way I couldn’t. Even though my knowledge of the hierarchy of my race was fuzzy, my skills were top notch and trouble seemed to find me. In any other job that would suck, but in mine it was an asset.
“Good. You’ll be working with the local pack alpha. He’s also the sheriff there. Name’s Hank Wilson. You know him?”
“Yep.” Biblically, I knew the son of a bitch biblically.
***
“You’re gonna bang him.”
“I am not gonna to bang him.”
“You are so gonna to bang him.”
“Dwayne, if I hear you say that I’m gonna bang him one more time, I will not let you borrow my black Mary Jane pumps. Ever again.”
Dwayne made the international zip the lip and throwaway the key sign while silently mouthing that I was going to bang Hank.
“I think you should bang him if he’s a hot as you said.” Dwayne made himself comfortable on my couch and turned on the TV.
“When did I ever say he was hot?” I demanded taking the remote out of his hands. I was not watching any more Dance Moms. “I never said he was hot.”
“Paaaaleese,” Dwayne flicked his pale hand over his shoulder and rolled his eyes.
“What was that?”
“What was what?” he asked, confused.
“That shoulder thing you just did.”
“Oh, I was flicking my hair over my shoulder in a girlfriend move.”
“Okay, don’t do that. It doesn’t work, not to mention you’re as bald as a cue ball.”
“But it’s the new move,” he whined.
Oh my god, Vampyres were such high maintenance. “According to who?” I yanked my suitcase out from under my bed and started throwing stuff in.
“Kim Kardashian.”
I refused to dignify that with so much as a look.
“Fine,” he huffed. “But if you say one word about my skinny jeans I am so out of here.”
I considered it, but I knew he was serious. As crazy as he drove me, I adored him. He was my only friend in Chicago and I had no intention of losing him.
“I know he’s hot,” Dwayne said. “You’re far too beautiful to be hung up on a goober.”
“Are you calling me shallow?” I snapped as I ransacked my tiny apartment for clean clothes. Damnit, tomorrow was laundry day. I was going to have to pack dirty clothes.
“So he’s ugly and puny and wears bikini briefs?”
“No! He’s hotter than Satan’s underpants and he wears boxers,” I shouted. “You happy?”
“He’s actually a nice guy.”
“You’ve met Hank?” I was so confused I was this close to making fun of his skinny jeans just so he would leave.
“Satan. He’s not as bad as everyone thinks.”
How was it that everyone I came in contact with today stole my ability to speak? Thankfully I was interrupted by my door.
“You expecting someone?” Dwayne asked as he pilfered the remote back and found Dance Moms.
“No.”
I peeked through the peephole. Nobody came to my place except Dwayne and the occasional pizza delivery guy or Chinese food take out guy or Indian food take out guy. Wait. What the hell was my boss doing here?
“Angela?”
“You going to let me in?”
“Depends.”
“Open the damn door.”
Angela tromped into my shoebox and made herself at home. Her hair was truly spectacular. It looked like she might have even pulled out a clump on the left side. “You want to tell me why the sheriff and alpha of Hung Island, Georgia says he won’t work with you?”#p#分页标题#e#
“Um . . . no?”
“He said he had a hard time believing someone as flaky and irresponsible as you had become an agent for the Council and he wants someone else.” Angela narrowed her eyes at me and took the remote form Dwayne. “Spill it, Essie.”
I figured the best way to handle this was to lie—hugely. However, gay Vampyre boyfriends have a way of interrupting and screwing up all your plans.
“Well, you see . . . ”
“He’s her mate and he dipped his stick in several other . . . actually many other oil tanks. So she dumped his furry player ass, snuck away in the middle of the night and hadn’t really planned on ever going back there again.” Dwayne sucked in a huge breath which was ridiculous because Vampyres didn’t breathe.
It took everything I had not to scream and go all wolfy. “Dwayne, clearly you want me to go medieval on your lily white ass because I can’t imagine why you would utter such bullshit to my boss.”
“Doesn’t sound like bullshit to me,” Angela said as she channel surfed and landed happily on an old episode of Cagney and Lacey. “We might have a problem here.”