Page 18 of The Betas: Rene
Chapter Seven
Frankie’s Condo
René examined Frankie’s studio, trying not to let the distaste show on his face. Last night they hadn’t tuned but one desk lamp on. Tonight, the whole little box was illuminated. René tried to control his facial expression. He wasn’t good at it.
“You don’t have to keep the disapproval off your face,” Frankie told him. “It’s all IKEA and disposable. I bought furniture for functionality. I invested in this condo because I could afford it and I knew it would accrue equity. Even though it’s on the west side, it’s only a few steps from Fifth Avenue, and ten years ago the neighborhood was just beginning to gentrify. It also served as a place to sleep that didn’t belong to Dante. As I explained, money was at a premium, and I felt I couldn’t justify spending it on myself when I might have to help my mother and brother.” Frankie chuckled. “You have a very expressive face. At least I’ll never be in any doubt as to how you feel about me.”
“Tomorrow after we get the rings, we’ll go to Mr. Abbot’s and order each of us some new suits. We’ll need tuxedos for the wedding.” René opened a closet, took one of the boxes they brought and began packing winter clothing.
“Why do we need tuxedos?” Frankie started packing the pantry. “We should bring all the food to your house. Otherwise, the packers will wrap it, pack it, and we’ll get weevils and maggots in storage.”
“You cook from scratch. I do, too. I like cooking. It’s relaxing. However, the only people I could ever cook for were Martin and Edward. Since they cooked every night, when we had dinner together, they preferred to go out. Most of the time, I just ate in Meg’s kitchen.”
“Tuxedos?” Frankie persisted.
“Did you handle your stepfather’s security?” René didn’t like the answer to the tuxedo question, so he avoided answering. He didn’t want to lie to his Mate.
“Some of it, when he wasn’t doing something illegal. I would handle it if he went to gambling establishments, but not prostitution or drug rings. I must give him credit. He tried to stay away from drugs. He dealt in arms but not in drugs. You were talking about tuxedos.”
Frankie taped up the second box from the small pantry. He unfolded his sofa bed and set the open suitcases on the mattress.
René sighed. He had to answer his Mate. “Tuxedos are a necessary evil since The Alpha is throwing the party. Be happy it’s not morning coats. In recent years, the Alpha has reluctantly agreed that morning coats were a waste of resources, and although it pains him, we don’t regulate a formal tuxedo to after five. With the loup garou, everything is about appearances. The Alpha is worth about eighty billion dollars. Garou is worth, according to the last accounting with Marc’s latest acquisitions, about one trillion, more valuable than Apple and GE. Forbes can only guess our worth as we are privately held. However, it wasn’t always the case. The stipend grows as the company does. You are getting the basic stipend from Garou that all wolves get from the company. If the company is well managed, the stipend grows, if not, everyone gets less, and management gets challenged.” René hoped Frankie would let it drop.
“What do you mean challenged?”
He should have known better. Frankie was like a hound on the scent. He wanted an answer, and by the gods, he was going to get one. “Duels to the death fought in a six-foot-deep by nine-foot square pit. Generally fought in half-wolf form.”
“I thought that was only in the book for dramatic effect.” Frankie raised that infamous eyebrow. He did it to a much better result than René did.
“No, challenges aren’t created drama, they are dead serious in a wolf’s world. Most challenges are fought to the death. The Alpha has outlawed challenges by stating that any wolf that challenges any other wolf for position must go through him first and he’s scary strong. But if their income is threatened, they will challenge him until he drops of exhaustion.”
“What has that got to do with tuxedos?” Frankie regarded him with a deeply furrowed brow.
“Alphas not only have to be prosperous so that the packs know their stipend is safe, but they also have to appear prosperous. The only time you will ever see our Alpha out of his custom-made English suits is behind the locked door of his house and in New Mexico on pack land. The Alpha Mate can dress casually, but not The Alpha. Neither Martin, Pierre, you or I can unless we are at home or in New Mexico. Blazers, dress pants, sweaters always with a tie are about as casual as we can get even on our own time in New York if we’re out of the house.”
“What does that have to do with a tuxedo?” Frankie wasn’t letting this go.
René grimaced. “If The Alpha is going to throw a party, it needs to be very posh. The whole Council must attend, especially if it’s for a mating. When Martin married Edward, things weren’t as settled on the Council as they are now and his wedding was tense.”
“How did that change?” Frankie carefully folded his shirts and rolled his ties.
“It changed when the Alphas all found Mates and all of the Mates became friends. The Council Alphas are all at peace because challenges would upset the Mates. They all love their Mates, so no challenges. Martin’s wedding had taken place before the Council Alphas were mated, and the Alphas spent the whole reception growling and snarling at one another. They snarled at The Alpha Mate’s reception, too. It was there that La Farge thought up his plan to take over the Council.” René sighed.I’m going to have to delve into the ugly side of the loup garou. I was hoping to put this off.
“What happened?” Frankie stopped packing. That wasn’t a good sign.
“The Number Two was jockeying for The Alpha’s position. He was the one who had The Alpha Mate kidnapped by the Russian two years later. He had the Council all revved up because none of them had Mates and Martin did. He said it was the judgment of the gods.”
“And…” Frankie raised his brows.
“The gods spoke and told the assembled group that La Farge couldn’t speak for them. Things calmed down until two years later.”
“Gods? Gods don’t speak. You can’t buy into that religious stuff.” Frankie scoffed.
“Our gods are real. They speak to us in voices that can be heard by everyone. No one needs to interpret what they say. We don’t need a priest. Two years after Martin’s reception, The Alpha met The Alpha Mate who had seen a Russian loup garou murder his friend in an alley.”
“I remember seeing that on television.” Frankie frowned. “Garou made national news when The Alpha married what the media deemed to be a gold digging nobody. No offense, I’m quoting the rags.”
“The Alpha Mate is an Omega who has a gift called La Voix, The Voice in English. In our world, the Omega is the smallest wolf in the pack. The gods give Omegas gifts so that they are cherished rather than bullied. If The Alpha asks, the Alpha Mate can speak for the gods to prevent violence. He brings peace.”
