Page 4 of One Night with the Werewolf
I am very good at ignoring red flags.
“And he just pissed all over everything,” Roscoe says, shaking his head. “I want to say it started when his mom left, but I think he’s always been this way. Selfish and inconsiderate.”
Part of me is affronted that he would think of his son so poorly, but after tonight, I don’t think he’s wrong, either.
“Hey, you doing okay?” Arin leans over to check in. “Do you want to go home?”
“Don’t go home!” calls out Harry. “Fuck that guy! Spend the night out with your friends, huh? Let us treat you nice since he won’t.”
“Yeah!” Kimmy says, joining in. “We can show you a good time, Em.”
I glance around at all my friends, smiles on their faces, eager to have fun tonight. Then I look at Roscoe.
“You don’t have to come,” I say. “We’re probably going to the club or something.”
“Oh yeah? You don’t think an old man can dance?”
Shit. I didn’t mean to offend him.
“No, no, I’m sure you can. I just thought it might be boring, or…”
“How would going out to the club with a posse of hot young people be boring?” He grins. “Unless this is you trying to not invite me. Then I need you to be a bit more blunt.”
I shake my head rapidly. “No, no! You’re more than welcome. Right, guys?” I turn to my friends, and Kimmy is the first to pipe up, saying, “Yeah! Come on, Mr. Dad!”
“Name’s Roscoe,” he grumps, and everyone laughs.
CHAPTER
TWO
ROSCOE
That fucking asshole kid of mine.
I wasn’t kidding when I said he’s always been like this. I know, it’s terrible of me, being his dad and all—but it’s not surprising in the least that he would treat his sweet, soft-eyed girlfriend like this. I’ve always thought she’s much too nice, too good for him, though I’d never say it out loud. I was surprised the first time I met her and Jason said,This is my girlfriend, Em.
Someone this kind and gentle had taken on Jason? At the time, I thought it’d be good for him, that it might push him out of his self-indulgent, arrogant persona and into his adult self. At the time, I never thought what a toll that would take on her.
He doesn’t know how good he had it.
I put on my best impression of a smiling face as everyone finishes their drinks at the bar and pays up. I like how Emelia’s friends rallied by her side to give her a fun night out on the town. Maybe I’m a bit of a douchebag for inviting myself along when this really should be a young person’s game, but at the sametime, I feel like I should make up to her for how horrible Jason was tonight. As the representative of the Daniels family.
Maybe I can help Emelia forget about my dickhead kid for one night, and then I’ll never see her again. It feels like a fitting farewell for all the lovely Christmases and Fourth of Julys we’ve had as a family. I’ve always enjoyed her company—she’s honest and genuine, but never mean or harsh. It’s not a common trait in people nowadays, to be so authentic and kind without trying. But Emelia has one face, her real face, and she always wears it.
I can admire that in a person.
The night air is perfectly warm, the ideal summer evening, with just a faint breeze. I wore my nice leather jacket tonight, which I’m sure I’ll regret when we get to the club and there are bodies pressed in all around me. But I don’t trust a coat check. My jacket’s been with me ever since I became what I am.
The kids chitchat while we walk. Though I don’t add to the conversation, I do stay close by Emelia. It isn’t cold, but her arms are wrapped tight around herself, and I can’t tell if she’s cold or sad.
Probably both. I should offer her my coat, but it’s only a few blocks to the club, since we can hear it two streets over. There’s a short line out front, and we get in it with Emelia at the front.
“You been cryin’, babe?” asks the bouncer, a big ogre with a single horn on his forehead, frowning down at her from his stool as he looks over her ID.
“A little,” she admits.
“I hope your night gets better.” He glances at me as I approach. “Oh, I don’t need your ID. But you’re not the one who made this girl cry, right?”
