Once Bitten, No Longer Shy, Julie Steimle [i wanna iguana read aloud TXT] 📗

Hanz went to Robert at the door, peering at him as if to find the curse marked on him somewhere. There were no visible signs that Troy knew of. It was actually quite brave of Rick to have befriended Robert back when they were in school, as even a bump was risky with him. Accidental harm worked in the curse the same as purposeful harm.

Hanz departed with Robert Lafon, leaving Art alone with Troy. Troy knew Art was nervous about that, but when Art finished drying the breakfast dishes he and Hanz had used, he merely went to the bathroom to wash up as he was currently dressed in a sweaty jogging suit. Apparently Art had woken up early and had gone running. Troy wondered how early. He had never been a morning person, not even before being bitten, and Art seemed like the perfect example of one… which did not bode well. He hope this was not going to be one of those oil-and-water, odd-couple relationships, because it was sure starting to look like one.

Troy sat at the coffee table and ate his nearly cold breakfast, while sorting through the things Robert had brought in the bags. Most of it were items Rick used when dealing with his allergies, including the special soap for cleaning off garlic oil. There were a number of sheets and blankets as well as what looked like new curtains. Troy wondered about that.

  Art came back out of his room dressed in jeans and a tee shirt. He carried over a professional style three-ring binder planner with a leather cover. Sitting next to Troy on the couch, Art opened up the planner on the coffee table and took out a pen. Clicking the pen, he turned to Troy and said, “Ok, we need to set some ground rules for this whole arrangement.”

Troy stared, taken aback.

But Art continued. “I’m supposed to work as your assistant in whatever capacity you need, but I have a few things that must be clarified before I agree to anything. First off, I don’t work Sundays. I don’t care about the rest of the week. I’ll do Monday through Saturday, but Sunday is the Sabbath and I don’t mess around with that. And secondly, I’m not breaking any laws for you. We go by the book. If it is not legal, we are not doing it. Ok?”

Troy stared at the binder then at Art. His tee shirt said: I run because Gandalf told me to. What kind of guy had they stuck him with? He already knew Art participated in an obscure religion—probably from Utah—and clearly a nerd. But the planner made him wonder what else he was. Obsessive compulsive?

“Are you with me?” Art asked, watching his face.

Shaking off the sensation, Troy nodded. “Ok…”

Plowing ahead and setting pen to paper, Art said, “Ok. We need to set a calendar for work. Randon told us last night that you are planning on starting a support group with that Math professor. You also mentioned some research you need to finish for your PhD, and something about a finding a cure…?”

Nodding, Troy drew in a breath. So far the guy was just making things organized. He could work with that. “Yeah, I, uh, need to get some documents Andrew Cartwright said his wife would fetch for me. I was studying it in the library before I was attacked. If you could help make sure it arrives, I can continue that. I might also need you to take stuff back to my university for me because vampires might be looking for me back at my old place, and they don’t know you.”

Art nodded, jotting down notes.

“We also need to schedule space at a lab somewhere,” Troy said, thinking about it. “So I can work on what hopefully will be a remedy to reverse vampire bite and maybe one day vampirism.”

Nodding a little slower, Art wrote that down. He then looked up. “What’s wrong with the kitchen?”

A little surprised, Troy glanced at it. “It’s just a kitchen. I mean, it probably will work, but a lab has to be clean controlled environment with no contaminants. And the results have to be repeatable. A rented lab somewhere would do the trick.”

“Yeah…” Art’s nodding grew a little tense. He lifted his eyes and said, “But out there you have a greater risk of having things stolen and your research observed, let alone being waylaid by vampires looking for you if end up losing track of time again and have to travel at night. Here you can control who sees what and who comes in, and more control against contaminants. But if you don’t want to use the kitchen for a lab, we can talk to Rick Deacon and have part of the living room sectioned off and remodeled to become a lab.” Art gestured to the open, carpeted space to the left of them which had a separate desk area and what looked like a spot for aerobics or the like. “It’s pretty big for just two guys, and he owns this place so he can do whatever he wants to it.”

Troy stared at the space. It was kind of a party-type apartment. But really, was it necessary for a full remodel? That was asking quite a bit from someone he knew from high school and only saw on rare occasions.

“Rick would do anything to help you out,” Art said, which startled Troy. “Let him help you out.”

A shiver ran through Troy. He never wanted to admit it, but he had secretly resented Rick from the day he came to Gulinger Private Academy up until recently. He had always seen Howard Richard Deacon III as a sulky rich kid with a guaranteed future whose troubles were nothing more than average—divorced parents and an allergy.

But all of Troy’s friends liked Rick—even Tom who had openly criticized and complained about Rick at school with obvious jealousy, voicing much of what Troy was actually thinking. But Tom then grew to love the guy and had become super protective of him, especially after they had roomed together for a while. Then again, Rick had set Tom up with the girl of his dreams (Selina Davenport), whom Tom had coveted (but was interested in the rich boy)—so Troy had figured that Tom’s love had been bought. However Rick was popular among the mafis and other ghoulies at school alike. Eventually Rick grew on him, mostly as a tolerable little brother who sulked a great deal less after his initial induction to Gulinger, but whom he still thought of as way too privileged. And of course when Rick had graduated and started ‘handing out’ cars to friends, and giving apartments and jobs to other former classmates, Troy struggled once more to hold down his resentment over the ease of Rick’s life—up until Rick was attacked in Germany by man-eating werewolves.

 “Is there really some kind of rivalry between vampires and werewolves?” Art asked out of the blue, watching Troy’s thinking expression.

Shivers ran out of Troy’s chest and down his arms. For a second, he did not know how to respond. “Uh… actually, it is more like an aversion.”

Art frowned. “Isn’t Rick your friend?”

Troy sighed. He had to be honest. “He is. But it’s complicated. No one wants to take favors from Rick because they don’t want to owe him. He already has everything.”

Art’s frown deepened. Then he said, “What makes you think you would owe him? I don’t think he works like that.”

Another ripple ran through Troy. What was Art saying?

“Rick doesn’t seem the kind of guy who keeps a tally of whom he has helped or maintains a list of IOU’s,” Art said. “I saw how he acted with his friends in Germany. He never pulled that card with them in Cochem when he was trying to get them to leave—even though I am sure he footed most of the bill.”

“Rick just wants to keep his friends.” Troy rolled his eyes.

“You think he buys his friends?” Art asked.

Troy glanced to the floor now.

Art’s mouth opened in shock. “You do. Did he pay for everything back when you were in school together?”

Come to think of it, Rick didn’t. However, he never did have a lot of money on him. “His father kept him on a strict allowance. And Tom stole his wallet all the time.”

This time Art stared. “Stole his wallet?”

Troy nodded. He felt tired already. Troy had a gut feeling Rick had known he had been judging him all that time.

Shaking it off, Art stood up. “I’m calling Rick then. We’re getting you the lab.”

“No.” Troy rose to stop him, but Art took out his cell phone and started to dial.

“Yes,” Art said. “Rick hired me to help you, and he told me to do what I felt was necessary—and I think this is necessary.”

“Why?” Troy asked, irritation swelling over him as he did not like being forced in this situation. “Why is this necessary? We can rent—”

“No.” With a look, Art said, “I realized while talking to you that we would have to explain everything to other people. I need things as uncomplicated as possible. How am I supposed to explain vampires to normal people out there? It is going to come to that. And if I had not seen what I had seen myself…” He shook his head, possibly to banish a thought or an image from his mind. “Look, make my life easier. I beg you.”

Troy stared at him, his thoughts freezing.

“Hanz mentioned hunters and all sorts of other stuff that Eve had to deal with,” Art said. “And I’m just an ordinary guy. Let Rick build a lab in here.”

Troy stared more. Eve’s words from the roof came back to him like a slap. Selfish, she had called him. He didn’t think of others, she had accused him. Was he really not thinking about Art’s point of view and circumstances? He had to admit he wasn’t. Art really was just a guy—what Rick used to say about himself when he talked to mafis whenever they were nervous about him being a werewolf.

“I’m sorry,” Troy said rising. “I wasn’t thinking about that. We… we really should be making this easy for the both of us. We’re kind of stuck together, aren’t we?”

Art winced then shook his head. “Actually… I’m here by choice.”

Troy stared even more, utterly confused now.

“I hate seeing people think they have no options,” Art said, which shocked Troy. “You were about to kill yourself two days ago. I had a friend who did that. I don’t want to see that happen again.”

Shivers ran through Troy. Rick might have known that about Art or had found that out and arranged for Art to assist him for that very reason. Another shiver of chills ran through him. Was he happy or angry about that? Troy wasn’t sure.

While Troy sat back down, thinking over everything about his circumstances once more, Art made the call. Somehow he was beholden to Rick no matter what. It was not the circumstance he wanted, but Rick was doing everything to keep him alive. Guilt seeped through Troy. He had done nothing but secretly resent the werewolf. Aversion indeed.

“Alright,” Art said when he got off the phone. “I just spoke with his steward, and he’s going to bring up the issue with Rick—”

“His steward?” The very sound of that word brought back all the notions of the snooty multi-billionaire controlling everything at a smug distance. The absolute notion that anyone needed a steward…

“Yeah,” Art snapped back, reading him well. “Rick is in the middle of study for his MBA, and I was informed on the outset that I was to work with his steward to get—”

Troy rolled his eyes. Of course Rick would pass all this along to others. What had he been thinking? Him? Selfish? If he could afford a—

“You are such a jerk,” Art snapped, jolting Troy back to the moment. “Rick is trying to help you—”

“Through his ‘steward’,” Troy snarled