Fighting shape was right. All Jared ever asked Frank to do was fight. As if he didn’t have enough on his plate. This time, he went too far for loyalty. Got himself knocked out cold. Movies and television programs illustrate quite a lot of false information on what it takes to render a man unconscious. Sometimes it can be about force of the blow or weight of an object, but sometimes it is simply about placement. Hit someone in the right place, they will come down no matter how big they are. However, shapeshifters were a bit hardier. But even shapeshifters have their limits. We all have our triggers. Frank has devotion. Some of our men were skimming from us. Jared gave the commands and Frank followed orders. He lived for our pack. And he paid the price for that many times over. As did much of the biker community. Ever since Jared started his campaign for leadership the whole region was in chaos. And he was taking all of us with him.
Jen opened her mouth as if she was going to speak, but then frowned and pursed her lips together. Faint lines emerged on her forehead. I held in a giggle. It was a nice change to see someone so real. All of Frank’s groupies were the same; long acrylic nails, bleached blonde strands, and fake Fendi purses. They snapped their gum, pushed food around, and whined until Frank took them shopping. Our patio deck was like a stick insect grill, broiling long legs and narrow torsos until crispy. And Jared never had a girl around long enough to get a good look at her. His bedroom needed a revolving door to handle the traffic flow.
Jealousy flooded my chest. When was I going to have someone to take me for granted? The last time someone had a crush on me was on the playground. Sometimes one of Frank or Jared’s many girlfriends will feel insecure and flirt with me, but I know it’s all an act. Women were completely disposable to my brothers. We were three mateless freaks. Most shapeshifters our age are on their third or fourth mate. Every time we discussed it, we got into a fight. And Jared won, because that’s what he does.
Jen squeezed in closer to the bed and began inspecting the bandages that covered his face. Her hands brushed his newly shaved scalp. “What does the other guy look like?” she muttered. “Bikers?” her inflection wavered like a question, but I wasn’t sure if she was asking whether or not we were bikers or whether or not the guy that beat him up was. Would she think I was an idiot if I didn’t understand? Why would she be asking if we were bikers? But, then again, why would she be asking whether or not the guys that did this were bikers. It wasn’t as if someone like her was associated with bikers on the regular. I’m sure she, like most, thought of us as criminals, dangerous hell-raisers. Since the answer was yes to both, it didn’t really matter. So, I opened my mouth and blurted a weak, “Yes”. I’m not in a hurry to elaborate. She’ll draw her own conclusions. Since we own a bike shop, it’s probably not a mystery we are associated with biker gang activity. But, being able to explain that association is easy with a shop. Admitting it to others is something else. And we kept our paper trails squeaky clean. Just in case someone were to look into our income. It would be a lot easier if we were on the straight and narrow, but Jared’s got ambition, and Frank and I are merely slaves to it.
“Well hopefully he gave the other guy a run for his money. I’m sure he had it coming.”
Jen’s weak smile and pale complexion, were they simply a sign of politeness? Again, I wasn’t sure whether she was talking about Frank or the other guy. But, no one would say that about your unconscious relative to your face, would they? For some reason everything about Jen seemed duplicitous, but not in a shady way. I felt as if she was living two lives, the one in the hospital, laid out in front of her, and the one in her head. Her alignment was off, it was clear. She was miserable, but comfortable in it. What happened to her that made her feel like she needed to settle for a life she didn’t enjoy? And what was it that was causing her misery? Nursing was a taxing job no doubt, but saving and caring for people certainly was a worthy cause to champion.
And as far as my brother was concerned, the other guy definitely did deserve it. But then again so did Frank. The man that hit Frank was certainly worse off, although considering someone can only be so unconscious, I’m not sure there is really much of a contest. That’s all I know. Jared took care of what Frank started. Because that’s what Jared does. I happened to be at home, like always. Their bar fights and pissing contents didn’t interest me much. Even though I haven’t joined them on one of their adventures in years, they still played along with my farce. Pretending that I needed to stay at the shop and work late was usually enough to get me out of whatever I want…I was loyal, but not much of a fighter. Never have been.
“Have fun playing with your machines. You’re missing out on a good time, but we need you.” Jared gave some version of that speech every week. Legitimate customers were nearly dried up because of the nationwide recession and Jared’s cutthroat cost cutting strategies. He had more mechanical work to do tuning up our accounting and books than I did all week on actual bikes. Luckily these small-town cops were on the take. Despite his greed, Jared wasn’t a fan of risk. Unless it made him rich of course. But at least they didn’t push it. For thirty-eight years we’ve kept our lovely little pack together.
I took a look at my brother, propped up in his hospital bed. Even in his weakness, he looked strong and self-assured. As if nothing could touch him. My jealousy twanged. Same DNA, but completely different realities. Frank looked pretty good for getting hit over the head with a shovel after, being hit with a beer bottle and fighting two beefy bouncers. Frank was particularly vain about his shiny black hair, which he kept at shoulder length. The nurses shaved his head in order to properly dress and clean his wounds. Infuriatingly, the buzz cut did not detract from his good looks. Even bald with a dozen bandages stuck to his head, Frank was still an Adonis Brainiac. And I was his loser brother that dressed up a few times a week to suck up to high society.
Jen’s tongue clicked against her teeth and her head shook. Was it pity or blame? Did she even see me? I’m probably like the furniture in this room, a necessary fixture in her bland day. There was a spark inside of her, visible and smoking. Being a nurse might be exciting to some, but it was certainly conventional. I can see you Jen. Show me what you’re hiding.
“Well everything looks good. Nice and clean. The plastic surgeon did a nice job on the sutures. I’ll come back to check on him in about thirty minutes. If he wakes up before I come back, give me a buzz.” She rolled up her sleeves and started to walk towards the door.
Now was the time to play confused. Make her stay. Draw attention to your suffering. I’m not a good actor, but I’ve gotten a lot of practice over the years. The
sad reality is, despite the efforts we make to blend in, most of them are unnecessary. Most humans don’t pay attention to the world around them. “Wait, you mean he might wake up?” I tried to put an inflection in my voice of surprise. I knew that Frank was going to be fine. It was nearly impossible for a human to kill a shapeshifter, especially with their bare hands.
Jen stopped in her tracks and spun around. “Why would you think he wouldn’t?” She cleared her throat. Her face tensed with concern. Her gaze was powerful, unwavering. It was as if someone was shining a spotlight in my face. After a couple of seconds of stunned silence, I found the words to respond. Why was she confused? Did I say something wrong? Okay, time to improvise. “They told me he was in a medically induced coma. Doesn’t that mean that he’s going to be out for a while?”
“Did Dr. Burke tell you that?” She folded her arm against her side and jutted her hip out. Fuck. She wasn’t buying it. I was playing with fire. Please, please, let me see the sass every day. I will stoke her flames every day if she will let me. “I don’t remember who it was. Tall guy. Um, freckles. Ginger.” Would it be weird to ask her out? Ask. Say it. Blurt it out right now. I think you’re incredibly sexy. You are not going to get anywhere with her pretending to be clueless or concerned about your brother.
“Hm... Dr. Burke is the same height as me with olive skin and curly hair. He has a…distinct profile.” She brought her pointer finger up to her face and traced a large half circle. That is definitely not the doctor I spoke with. I didn’t expect her to know every single doctor in the hospital. “Who did I speak to?” This was not going well for me.
“We have a couple red-headed doctors, but not one of them is working tonight that I’m aware of...are you sure it wasn’t a nurse? We have a male red-headed nurse. Lots of guys assume he’s a doctor. You know, because he has a penis.”
Her face was chiseled with irritation. She was challenging me. Testing the waters. Great. Now she thinks I am a sexist jackass. Think. Say something witty. Funny. Let her know that you are the opposite of sexist. “When he shook my hand, he introduced himself as Frank’s doctor.” I think. Did he really? Or am I a sexist sack of hot air? Please believe me. Even though I’m half lying. I just want to get to know you better. Stay.
Her face softened. She managed a weak smile. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to accuse you of being a royal shit. Sometimes the guys around here like to present themselves as more important than they are. Lots of male nurses take more credit than they deserve. And lots of female doctors have to battle the assumption they are a nurse. Not that there's anything wrong with being a nurse.” Jen’s cheeks flushed a deep scarlet. “There’s a lot of underground politics in a hospital. I shouldn’t be taking it out on you. My bedside manner game is weak today. It’s been a rough week.” Her words tumbled out, her hands moving frantically.
“Well, it doesn’t show. I’m curious about your politics.” I’ve heard wild stories coming out of hospitals. Swingers. Cheating. Drugs. And that was only the medical staff. She was far from the angelic nurse-on-a-pedestal, but there was an easy nature about her. Jen’s goodness radiated from within. She was quite worked up over this ginger fellow. Ex-boyfriend, perhaps? I scanned her face for more information. Who are you, really? We all have our public masks. What was behind hers? Although she was speaking as if I knew her, she might speak to all patient visitors this way. Her face was lit up. She broke into a large smile. Jen looked up towards the ceiling and clutched her face. “Tell that to my dark circles and fine lines.” She waved her hands over her face, as if there was something I couldn’t see. She had no idea how good my eyes actually were. I could see the fine blonde hairs on her skin, the pores on her nose, the beginnings of wrinkles around her eyes and mouth. And I was enthralled. She was perfect.
“You are luminous.”
As soon as the words left my mouth, her face darkened. Luminous? Was I a poet? Beautiful. Pretty. Cute. Sexy. Why couldn’t I have just said something, normal? My chest tightened and my neck grew hot. I’m going to be alone forever.
“Listen, I uh…it’s…” Jen stuttered and took a few steps backwards.
I bent down and covered my boiling face in my hands. “I’m sorry. I wish I could say that I’m usually not like this, but I don’t want to lie to you. My brain malfunctions around beauty.” Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse. What was my malfunction? The scuff of her heel against the waxed floors only added to the humiliation. She was backing away, trying to put as much space between us as possible. Her silence battered my ears like the roar of the ocean. You are never going to find a mate. Frank was right. The only chance you had at a mate was to share Frank’s, if he ever decided to wake the fuck up. Or Jared, if he ever decided to pick one.
“Thank you.” Jen whispered, barely audible.
Her voice was low enough that I wasn’t sure if I heard her correctly. I looked up to see her standing in the doorway, holding the door frame. Did she want to run away that badly? What was keeping her inside?
She chewed her lip and met my eyes for a second. Jen opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off.
“Jen! It’s time to turn Mrs. Delilah!” a gruff voice barked from the hallway.
Jen inhaled sharply. She hopped out into the hallway. I could hear her calling to someone.
“I’ll be right there!” Her voice was stretched thin, almost shrill. Her footsteps echoed down the hallway.