Sumage Solution GL Carriger Page 5

  Biff smiled to himself. One local wants Biff. Least, I hope he does. How long will it take him to call me, I wonder? Biff fingered his phone hopefully. Don’t be a lovesick fool, man’s still at work, for goodness’ sake – you only left him thirty minutes ago.

  “He’s sitting right here, you ridiculous undead queen,” said Alec, affectionately.

  “Is he, darling?” Jack’s volume increased. “Hello, Biff, my gorgeous Stud Muffin, enjoying fraternizing with the natives?”

  “Yep,” said Biff.

  “What was that?” Jack actually sounded genuinely shocked (as opposed to his normal simulated shock).

  Alec interpreted. “He said yes. And he’s smiling.”

  “What?!”

  “I know. Just a bit of a smile at the corners of the mouth, but his eyes are twinkling. It’s amazing. More than I’ve seen him since Pam left. I think I better find out what happened at DURPS.”

  “Wait! Alec, dah—”

  Alec hung up on Jack. His cell instantly started ringing again. Alec switched it to vibrate.

  “How’s he do that?” wondered Biff.

  “Voice dial,” said Alec. “Jack’s pretty darn resourceful, for a ghost.”

  Alec leaned forward, all that charismatic focus pointed at Biff. Made Biff want lean back and show his neck. Do whatever he asked.

  “So,” said his little brother, “whatcha smiling about?”

  “It went well. They’re letting us stay.”

  “That all?”

  “All I’m gonna say.”

  Alec flopped back. “Oh my god, what is it with you and lack of communication? You do know you’re my Beta, right? You’re supposed to be all about the communication.”

  Biff only quirked an eyebrow at him.

  Marvin came wandering in, looking fresh from a swim and impossibly beautiful, as always. Biff hadn’t really been thinking of himself as gay long enough to formulate a type, but he was pretty sure Marvin wasn’t it. Maximillian Barker, however, was. Marvin was slim, toned, and stunning, with blond hair, cheekbones for days, and webbed fingers. And a tail in salt water, of course.

  Alec utterly adored him. Lit up when the man walked into the room. Like they hadn’t just spent a week together nonstop, driving across country.

  “Hey there, my lover.” Alec tilted his head back and Marvin went obligingly over to kiss him. He crouched down slightly to wrap his arms around Alec from the back of the couch.

  “Hey, boyfriend. How’s tricks?”

  “Biff was just telling me he got us registered to stay. We’re all official now.” He refocused on his Beta. “You told them we wanted GGNRA for our run?”

  Biff shrugged. He hadn’t actually said anything about the parkland but it was on the application.

  “No one else has claimed it?”

  “No other wolf packs in the area at all.”

  “And if there are other shifters?”

  “Avoid ‘em.” Biff thought about the black dog down at registration. Do barghest go on runs?

  “Okay, then.” Alec seemed happy to accept Biff’s assurances.

  Marvin was looking at Biff oddly.

  Biff checked the state of his clothes. For a man who spent half his time naked in the ocean, Marvin had strong ideas on apparel and what each member of the pack should wear. Biff was in a clean white T-shirt, relatively clean jeans, and motorcycle boots. He’d even rubbed the scuffs out of them. Marvin couldn’t complain, could he? Wouldn’t want to disappoint his Alpha’s mate.

  “Darling,” said Marvin, still staring at Biff but obviously speaking to Alec. “Does our boy here look odd to you?”

  Alec played along. “In what way, sweetie?”

  “I don’t know.” The merman sniffed, although he had no discernible sense of smell. Worse than humans, merfolk. “Eau de…what could that be?” He sniffed again. “Why, is that…happiness?”

  “I think Biff here had a very nice time down at DURPS.”

  Marvin bounced around the couch and sat next to Alec, snuggling in against him. Alec slid one long arm about him with a casual familiarity that made Biff feel equal parts delighted and lonely.

  Biff went to make the tea before he had to respond to whatever pointed questions Marvin intended to throw at him next.

  He brought back three cups without having to be asked. Peppermint for Alec, because he was a putz, seaweed for Marvin, because he was a fish, and pu’erh for himself. Because I’m a real man.

  “So, what happened?” pressed Marvin in a singsong way.

  “Did ya meet someone?” Alec sipped his tea.

  Biff struggled to keep himself from blushing. Obviously, it didn’t work.

  Marvin hooted. “Oh goodie, tell Auntie Marvin all about her? Pretty?”

  Biff sipped his tea.

  “Oh my god, why is he so annoying?” Marvin turned big blue eyes on his mate.

  Alec looked philosophical. “Life gives you the Beta you need, not the Beta you want.”

  Biff’s phone buzzed with a text. He pulled it out to look at it. Unknown number, 415 area code.

  Unknown Sender: I’m off work at 6. Text more then.

  Biff: Max?

  Biff typed back. He was thrilled – Max must be sneaking a text in at work.

  Max: You hand out your number to all the boys?

  Biff: Just the hot mouthy ones.

  Max: I got competition then.

  Biff: You telling me there are more of you? Don’t think my ears could take it. Or my nose.

  Max: You say the sweetest things. Way chattier this way, aren’t you, Muscles?

  Biff: Yep.

  Max: Oh no, here we go again.

  “Oh my god! Look at his cute little face.” Biff registered Marvin’s cooing.

  “He’s smiling again. I think there’s something wrong with him.” That was his brother, being all younger-brotherly.

  “Biff, darling, whatcha doing? Who ya talking to?” Marvin moved to sit next to him and look at his phone.

  Biff shielded the screen.

  Biff: Gotta go.

  He quickly turned the phone off. Even Colin didn’t know his passcode.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Friday Night in the Castro

  Max was a little nervous when six rolled around. Not that he hadn’t been eagerly awaiting it all day. But Bryan had ended their text exchange pretty abruptly. He worried he’d said something wrong. Or that the werewolf was having second thoughts. So as not to seem overly eager, Max waited until seven minutes past six to text again.

  Max: Hey Muscles.

  Muscles: Hey. Sorry I cut you off.

  The werewolf’s response was gratifyingly fast. Like he’d been waiting eagerly all day as well.

  Max: Something happen?

  Muscles: Nosy brother-in-law.

  Max: The merman?

  Muscles: The nosiest. Wanted to know why I was smiling.

  Max: You smile?

  Muscles: On occasion.

  Max: Wait. I made you smile?

  Muscles: Don’t let it go to your pretty head.

  Max: Which one?

  Muscles: There’s my smartass sumage.

  Max: Yours, huh?

  Muscles: I’m not great at sharing.

  Max: I don’t think we’re at that point yet.

  Although Max was weirdly thrilled with the possession in those words. He’d been around a while in the Bay Area scene. He’d tried all the things: poly, open, multiples, fuck buddies. It was fine for some men, just not for him. He was all wrapped up tight in a heteronormative model. Or maybe it had something to do with his own miserable childhood. But Max didn’t see it as such a bad thing to want a man that just wanted him back and no one else. Simple as that.

  Muscles: True. Haven’t even had a date. So, you wanna?

  Max: Wanna what?

  Max wasn’t going to make it too easy on him. He was eager but didn’t want to seem so.

  Muscles: Go on a date, you dope.

  Max: You’ll bring
me flowers?

  Muscles: Didn’t you get enough this morning? Small orange ones.

  Max: Oh sweet, remind me of my failings.

  Muscles: You wanna tell me what happened?

  Max: Only if you’re interested in kitsune porn.

  Muscles: Ew. No. Weirdo. Hold on.

  There was a long pause. Max made his way to his car. His father’s Cheetah. Fancy in its day, a vintage 1970s camel beastie, all curves and chrome, mostly held together with duct tape and optimism. Max folded himself inside.

  His phone buzzed again.

  Muscles: Where were we?

  Max: Fox porn.

  Muscles: Don’t you ever stop?

  Max: What fun would that be? What took you away?

  Muscles: Return of the pack. Or some of them.

  Max: I’m crushed. You don’t want them to know about me?

  Another long pause. Max’s stomach sank. Had he pushed Bryan too far? Should he have kept stuff light?

  His phone rang.

  Max picked it up. “It’s because I’m Asian, isn’t it?”

  That gorgeous low laugh met the comment. “No.”

  “Blue eyes? Your pack is prejudiced against blue eyes.”

  “Marvin has the craziest bluest eyes you ever saw, practically turquoise.”

  “You notice your brother-in-law’s eyes?”

  “Lesbians notice my brother-in-law’s eyes. He’s a merman. Everyone notices him.”

  Max tried to stay light-hearted. “Is it because I’m a sumage?”

  A pause. “Nope.” Nothing more than that.

  “Promise?”

  “I’m not sure how you’ll smell to them, but you’re fine with my nose.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Brown butter caramel.”

  “That code for something?”

  Another deep chuckle. “No, that’s your smell.”

  “It is?”

  “Yeah. Sometimes a bit of spiced rum.” The man’s voice went awfully gravelly as if he really, really did like it. Max found himself responding to the huskiness. Squirming in the confines of his dumb little car.

  “You think I’ll smell that way to them?”

  “Maybe. Maybe just me.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Don’t know. Wouldn’t mind finding out more, though.”

  Max kinda swallowed his tongue. “Yeah?” Then he remembered the silence. “So, why don’t you want me to meet them, then?”

  “I’m not out.”

  Max sat back with a groan. Fucky fucky fuck. First man I’ve been interested in in ages. Sex on two legs, sometimes four. Seems interested in me. May even want to actually fuck me. And he’s a closet case.

  “Max?”

  “That’s not good, Bryan.”

  “I know.” It was possible for a big man to sound small.

  “You think it’ll be a problem with your pack, with your family?”

  “Pack, no. Family, definitely. Not Alec, of course, but back home. Not that they matter anymore.”

  “Your dad?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Mine too.”

  “He still around?”

  Max felt himself lurch at the question.

  “Max?”

  “No.” He knew the ice of memory was in his tone.

  Bryan, probably because he was Beta, or maybe just because he was Bryan, seemed to hear all the nuances beneath the frigidity, need and regret. “Tell me?”

  “I think he was more disappointed I turned out a sumage than that I turned out gay. But he didn’t like either one.”

  “Mage himself?”

  “Surge.”

  “Ah.” A wealth of understanding. Probably not the right understanding, but some of it. Surges’ reputation preceded them, and Max’s dad had exhibited all the very worst traits of the breed. Sumage was a disappointment to any family, like having a beautiful hen that never laid a single egg. But for a Surge’s only son to be sumage…even a werewolf understood the damage that would cause.

  Max sighed. “And mom was a Sluice.” Pretty talented in her own right. “And she up and died giving birth to me.” You’re a useless waste of space and life. His dad’s voice in his head.

  “Me being gay was like the after-dinner mint that made dad vomit me right out of his life.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Eh. He’s dead now.”

  “Mine’s just a homophobic, bigoted asswipe.”

  Max chuckled. “Just that, huh?”

  “He’s still getting over Alec. I don’t know what would happen if I…”

  “I won’t be pulled into the closet, Bryan. Not even if I get to share it with all those muscles of yours.”

  “I’m not asking for that.”

  “What are you asking for?”

  “A date.” Such a wistful tone to the werewolf’s voice.

  Max gave a little sigh. “Fine. But I choose where we go.”

  “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at seven. Wear a leather jacket. I’ll bring an extra helmet.”

  “You ride?”

  “You already called me a biker.”

  Max could only imagine how hot that was. And to get to slide in behind him, snuggle up against that broad back while they cruised over the Golden Gate. Max licked his lips.

  “Okay wolf, I’ll bitch for you this one time.”

  “Promises, promises. Text me your address.”

  “Night, Bryan.”

  “Night, Maximillian.”

  * * *

  Max didn’t text him his home address. Instead, he told him they’d meet outside the Sausalito movie theater. Biff figured it was a good idea to check out the town, given Alec wanted them to move there.

  It was cute if a bit touristy.

  Biff showed up early. Found a parking space easy enough, one of the reasons he preferred a motorcycle, and waited patiently for his date.

  My male date. My hot as hell, sumage, male date.

  Biff decided not to care about the bends in his own life and tugged his shirt self-consciously.

  Marvin had made him wear it. “Biff, sweetie, you’re going out on a Friday night. You do realize that we all know you have a date? Even if you won’t tell us details, I insist that you dress up a bit. Please.”

  “Although,” Lovejoy had said with a grin, “you have to also know that we’re all betting on how you’ll manage it. You do realize that on a date you’ll actually have to talk to the girl, right?”

  Biff had only glared.

  “Presumably he talked to Pam, at least once, long enough to ask her to marry him.” That was Kevin. Kev had no tact.

  Judd body-checked him as if they were out on ice, and shook his head to quell further mention of the ex-wife. Not that Biff minded. Poor Pam, she deserved so much better than a closet case. He’d told her so, before he’d left Boston. Oh, she’d been angry. But she’d understood a lot more about them, about why they didn’t work, about why his dick didn’t work in her. It had ended better than he deserved. And she hadn’t uprooted her life any further for the man who failed her. But the pack didn’t know any of that.

  “Perhaps his date will be chatty enough for the both of them,” suggested Marvin.

  “Stop teasing.” That was Alec, coming to his Beta’s defense. “Just ask questions, bro. Chicks love to be asked questions, right?”

  Biff arched an eyebrow at his brother.

  Judd said, “Oh, perfect. Dating advice on human women from a gay werewolf. You should write a book, Alpha.”

  “Very funny, like I have the time.”

  “Then Colin can do it.”

  “Hey, leave my brother out of it.” Kev glared at his fellow enforcer.

  Colin glanced up from his computer. He was deep into some FPS video game. “I can defend myself, thanks.” Then he went back to his screen, pew pew pew.

  Just to get away from the prying, Biff had allowed Marvin to march him into the other room and find him a “proper” shirt. Marvin settled on one that Lovej
oy had persuaded Biff to buy. Lovejoy fancied himself a Lothario and went in for Italian casino sleaze-cheese. The shirt was a bit tight for Biff’s taste. But he’d got it because Lovejoy said he looked hot in it. Lovejoy was straight, so if it could make a straight man drool, well, it was worth the money. Not that he’d had a chance to wear it yet.

  Marvin instantly zeroed in on it. “This Lovejoy’s? It looks too big.”

  “Mine.”

  “Yeah, who bought it for you?”

  “Lovejoy.”

  “Of course he did. Well, put it on, let me see.”

  Biff did as he was instructed, stripping out of the clean white T-shirt – hell, it had got him the date in the first place, why mess with a good thing? – and pulling on the other shirt.

  It was your standard men’s dress shirt only out of some silky, stretchy material, black and tight. Fit and fabric combined to make every single muscle pop, and it gave a hint of oil slick to the whole package.

  Biff thought he looked absurd.

  Marvin grinned. “Yeah. That’ll do.” He marched Biff back out to the pack.

  They all hooted and whistled at him.

  Biff knew he was crimson but also kind of pleased. He hoped Max liked the shirt half as much.

  As he closed the door to the apartment behind him, he heard Alec say to his mate, “Don’t you think that shirt is a bit, well…”

  “Gay?” Marvin finished for him. “This is San Francisco, babe, it’s expected.”

  Now, however, Biff wasn’t certain. Club wear didn’t seem a thing in downtown Sausalito, not even on a Friday night. He was getting some odd looks. What was I thinking?

  Max came walking down the street toward him, so Biff stopped fussing and tried to look casual, motorcycle jacket slung over his shoulder. Sausalito got cold in the evening, but werewolves ran pretty hot, so he didn’t need it yet. Plus, he wanted to see Max’s reaction to the stupid shirt. I’m such a teenage girl.

  Max was wearing jeans as well, a dark-wash fashionably distressed pair, perfectly fitted, showcasing all his many assets. On top he had one of those super-tight long-sleeved shirts, the kind that had started as underwear and then made it big with skateboarders. The outfit made him look younger, or perhaps he was younger. Hard to tell with those killer genetics.

  My white T-shirt would have been fine.

  Only Max’s undershirt was a fancy one, with some kind of complicated graphic design. Blue, exactly the same color as his eyes. He carried a leather blazer, which Biff worried wouldn’t be enough protection. He’d have to ride carefully. Humans were fragile.