Chapter 2
"I quit," Lyon told Steven in the same factual tone that Steven had employed to tell him he would be working twelve-hour days for several weeks and drinking martinis and surfing. Before Steven could protest, I hung up the phone and turned to my friend Dean.
I had been friends with Dean since we were sophomores at college, and he was my best friend in the area.
"Good," Dean croaked amid puffs on his cigarette. "Stick it to the man!"
I smiled and ran my hand through my thick brown hair. It had been buzzed in recent times, something that Steven and his moron company would approve of, but I never particularly liked it.
"I'm going to let this grow out, I think," I said.
"Sweet man," Dean said.
We imbibed throughout the rest of the night, griping to one another about the ridiculous situations Deporta Enoch imposed on me and problems Dean was having with his ex-wife. Both of us had decided by the end of the night that we would be going back to the saying we lived by in school. Don't get mad. Get even.
This translated to thinking outside the box for me. The city was filled with every type of person. Strippers to shifters lined the streets. Deporta had always been judgmental and narrow-minded, scrunching up his nose in disgust even when a shifter just requested to get us a drink. I, however, had always been strangely interested in these mysterious creatures.
When I retired in the evening in the bedroom that Dean had reserved for me, I logged into Facebook before sleeping. My stream was clogged with advertisements about a dating platform for men to meet other male shifters. The platform had been called "DickFang," and it had been vastly popular. I couldn't believe that my friend Timothy had already enrolled months earlier, and was posting pictures with his shifter husband and baby!
It was appalling to see how deeply rooted this new lifestyle was. I never knew that male shifters could impregnate other men. Now that I know, the mere thought sent a chill down my spine. Maybe what I really needed was a family that did not live by the rules and laws that were set by the majority. Folks who judged like Deporta did not need to make decisions about what was right and what was wrong. Everyone wanted something different, and at the time, nothing could have been more obvious than the fact that I wanted a wolf shifter.
I was shaking in fear when I clicked the link that I saw on my Facebook page and was taken to the DickFang website, where I tentatively joined. I could have searched for my Facebook friends who were already members, but I chose not to do so. This would be my little secret. If I liked it, good, I could share it with the world. And if I didn't, well, nobody would ever know the difference. But it would feel so good to give in to my temptations. Who cared if they were too dangerous for a cowardly liar like Deporta? All the shifters I had ever known were gorgeous. And when I browsed through the site, I found that the shifters who were seeking out men like me were just the same.
My heart was pounding as I browsed the pictures of shifter males. I was on the hunt for something. Something that I knew would anger and make Deporta jealous. Finally, the toughest-looking guy I had ever seen was giving me the stink-eye, his dark flowing locks encircling his face. He had a well-groomed goatee and a leather coat. Not to mention, he was ripped to pieces. He had that kind of build that I could only dream of. He was the complete contrast to Deporta's stick-like muscles. He had this intimidating presence, like he could break a man in two without even realizing it.
I noticed I had been staring at the picture for quite some time, and that I'd toughened up just staring at the man. This would be the shifter I'd tried to hook up with. I went about getting my best bad-boy-appearing picture for my profile, settling for myself flipping off Deporta on Halloween, when I had been sporting a fake biker costume. That would have to suffice.
I typed in my message with a nervous finger.
Urgent. Hook up needed. Can we meet at shifter club downtown? Lycons. 6:00 tonight.
Even if macho man didn't respond, at least I would be where I needed to be to acquire myself a hook up. Lycons was bustling with just the sleazy kind that Deporta's skin would crawl about. It was the best place to get my revenge.
I set to work dressing myself up. It was already close to 5:00, and I would have to make time to drive all over town in order to get to Lycons at 6. I wore a tank top that showcased my perfect biceps; not huge and intimidating like the shifter's but still impressive. Maybe it would be sufficient for him.
"Going somewhere?" Dean called out as I strode by.
"Getting my revenge," I said.