How to Run with a Naked Werewol(30)

"I object to this job on moral grounds . . . on several levels. Quests for evil rings rarely turn out well. Too many potential Gollum issues. Also, I don't like the idea of working for a guy whose name could belong to a Star Trek villain."

"Them's the breaks, sweetheart," he said, shrugging as I pouted. "We aren't actually taking custody of anyone, so your argument isn't valid. And you've objected to most of the jobs we've done together on some grounds. If it was up to you, we would let everybody go with a sternly worded warning."

"Fine," I grumbled. "How do we find this girl?"

"My buddy Abe owns a bar down in Goose Creek-"

"Yet another member of the League of Caleb's Barkeep Super Friends," I interjected.

"Please don't mix Marvel and DC references. You're better than that," he said, shaking his head disdainfully. "As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, Abe's on Trixie's circuit. Most of these places can't keep girls on full-time. You don't find a lot of pretty girls willing to strip in a small town year-round. So these girls travel a sort of circuit a few months each year. The bar pays a flat fee, the girls keep all the tips. The male patrons see a little boob. Everybody walks away happy."

"Except for feminists. And health inspectors."

"Is this going to be your attitude for the entire job? Because that will make it real difficult for me to enjoy working on this with you."

I frowned, although relief at seeing the old Caleb return was gradually setting in. "Am I supposed to try to help you enjoy a job involving strippers?"

"I honestly don't know how to answer that without getting poked in the ribs again."


Abe's bar, which was just called Abe's, was more respectable than most of the places we'd visited so far. It was an old, shopworn sports bar, but it was clean. And nobody propositioned me as I walked through the front door, which I considered a much higher recommendation than any Zagat rating.

Of course, the lack of propositions could have had something to do with Caleb's arm being firmly wrapped around my waist, but why split hairs? The interior reminded me a lot of the Blue Glacier in Grundy: scarred pine bar, worn pine floorboards, neon beer signs, and taxidermically preserved fish specimens decorating the walls. Two obviously well-loved pool tables occupied the far corner of the room. Since one of them was marked with a little green "reserved" sign, I assumed that one would serve as Trixie's stage for the evening.

There were plenty of perfectly respectable teetotalers in the Great North. But in some smaller towns out "in the bush," bars and saloons served as the social hubs, sources of gossip and entertainment to break up the monotony of living in a place where a snowfall could mean being cut off from your neighbors for months. People didn't come for the booze so much as the conversation. The problem was that some bars were "less nice" than others and attracted people who were similarly less nice than the average citizen. It all depended on what the ownership was willing to let the patrons get away with.

My opinion of the caliber of the bar changed when a tall bottled redhead with an ass you could bounce a quarter off of sidled up to us, calling out to Caleb. My werewolf paled a little and pulled at the collar of his jacket.

"Mary Ann, hi," he said, clearly uncomfortable, which in some perverse way amused me immensely. "How are you?"

"Lonely." She scowled at me. "This your old lady now?"

Caleb looked from her to me and back to her. And then back to me. "Uh . . ."

Part of me enjoyed watching Caleb twitch a little bit. But a much more influential part of my brain wanted this woman away from us, away from my man, before I started some Maury Povich catfight, rolling around on the floor, pulling at her hair. So I decided to step in.

"Oh, come on, Caleb, don't try to hide our love," I cooed, stretching my arms around him. I beamed at her, all silly and cow-eyed. "We just got matching tattoos."

Mary Ann's eyes widened. "Really? Can I see?"

I winked at her. "Not where we put them, no, ma'am."

"I thought you said you didn't want big commitments," she said to Caleb.

And the ever-erudite werewolf responded, "Uh . . ."

She gave me one long, disdainful look. "When you figure out what you're missing, you give me a call," she said, turning her back on me.

"It was really nice to meet you, Mary Ann!" I chirped.

She sashayed away, her butt swishing back and forth. Caleb closed his eyes as if he was wishing the whole situation would go away. "Never going to live this down, am I?"

I shook my head. "No."

Before he could come up with some explanation, a tall blond man came barreling up to Caleb, pulled back his fist, and punched my werewolf square in the stomach.

Seriously, I couldn't take him anywhere.

Caleb grunted, doubling over and propping his hands against his knees to get his breath back. I hissed out a growl and yanked my trusty baton out of my bag. I flicked it to full extension, but Caleb pulled himself upright and grabbed my wrist before I could swing. "No! This is my old friend, Abe Clarkson."

Caleb took time off from reassuring me to swing up at Abe's gut, doubling him over. Abe gave a wheezing laugh right before using his lowered center of gravity to fly-tackle Caleb and send him toppling against a booth.

"Do any of your old friends like you?" I asked him as both men roared with laughter. None of the bar patrons seemed to notice the exchange, as if it was a regular occurrence for Abe to brawl with customers.

Caleb brought an elbow down between Abe's shoulder blades. "No, that's just how he says hi."

With Abe's grasp around Caleb's waist weakened, Caleb shoved his alleged friend halfway across the barroom. I assumed that the abusive greeting ritual had concluded, because Abe approached me, gave me a once-over, and waggled his eyebrows. "Who is this sweet little thing, Caleb? You know, Mary Ann's been missing you-"

Caleb interrupted him with a loud clearing of the throat. "Abe, this is my Tina. Behave yourself."

Abe instantly straightened up, his expression more friendly than flirty now. I guessed Caleb's calling me his held some sort of special significance. In a second, I'd gone from hanger-on to lady of significance. I felt I deserved nonflirty respect either way, but given the eager, open smile on Caleb's face, I wasn't going to be churlish about it.

"Well, it's very nice to meet you, Tina," Abe said, shaking my hand. "I was afraid he was going to end up as the male version of a crazy old cat lady."                       
       
           



       

"That's still a possibility," I told him, making Abe frown at Caleb.

"She's a kidder," Caleb assured him. "She's crazy about me."

I snorted. " ‘Crazy' is a good word for it."

Abe shot Caleb a sly look. "Oh, I like her. You deserve her, buddy. I'm looking forward to watching how this plays out. You in a relationship? That's like one of those shows about guys who wrestle with wild gators. I don't know how it's going to turn out, but it will be bloody, and I'm pretty sure I'm going to laugh."

"Is Trixie here yet?" Caleb asked, ignoring Abe's jab. "I would like to snap her up before these guys figure out I'm taking away their entertainment. That could get ugly."

"She's not due for another thirty minutes or so," Abe told him. "You got a minute, man. And I need a favor." Abe jerked his head toward his office. Caleb gave me a skeptical look, as if he didn't want to leave me alone, but I waved him off.

"Go have fun," I told him. "I'll be fine."

"The last time you said that, you ended up offering to show Jerry your boobs," he said.

Abe's mouth popped open to comment, but instead, he asked, "You hungry?" The blond man laughed at himself. "What am I saying? You're with Caleb ‘Jerky Hog' Graham. Of course you are."

Before I could respond, Caleb protested. "That was one time! And you left the bag in the truck. What was I supposed to do? Starve?"

Abe shook his head, giving me a knowing look, and flagged down his bartender, a pretty brunette. "A beer and a crab special for the lady. Anything she wants is on the house."

I started to protest, but Caleb lifted me up and deposited me on a bar stool.

"Eat," he told me. "Sit here. Stay in one place. Please try to stay out of trouble."

"You're not the boss of me," I informed him.

"You're right, but as someone who cares about you, I am only asking that you eat a good meal and try not to jump directly into harm's way, waving a sign that says, ‘Here I Am!' in big red letters."

I hated it when he made sense. "I don't have a sign," I grumbled.

"It's invisible to everything but trouble," he told me, making me laugh.

"Augh," Abe groaned. "I was wrong. This isn't funny. It's adorable. I wasn't expecting adorable. I hate adorable." He grabbed the scruff of Caleb's neck and dragged him toward a door marked "Office."

"I will never understand men," I told the brunette behind the bar. The airbrushing on her shirt identified her as Pam.