Hairwolf
Chapter Thirty Four

Later, Stef and Lillian sit in the rocking chairs on the front porch of the motel. The warm breeze helps blow their hair dry. All the vehicles are gone, leaving an unimpeded view of the mountains in the distance.

“That thing you told me about, referring to bloodline. Wouldn’t that mean you were all infected by the same Werewolf? You, Ralf and Ominous.”

“I don’t know.”

Lillian’s looking at her suspiciously. She’s unsure about something. Stef queries, “what?”

“How could you have not wanted to get to the bottom of this? To know absolutely every frigin little thing there is to know about it. You act like it’s more of an impediment than . . .”

“What?”

“I’m not convinced you like being a werewolf. You’ve adapted to it. And bravo for you, you found a way out of the pain. But I think you still feel victimized.”

“Really?” Stef asks, leering at her. “Well I don’t. I don’t believe in victims anymore. Maybe I

believe this is my life and I’ve got to make the best of it. But now I want to understand it. You forget this happened to me when I was ten. Not last week. It doesn’t matter how much

research I do, It’s not going to change anything. I’m still going to be a werewolf and I’m still going to have to live like one. So what does that make me? Have you thought about that?”

Lillian’s digging deep for a logical response.

Stef tries assisting her ... “Re... re... Come on, Lillian. It begins with re...”

“...Ridiculous!” Lillian throws out, unable to contain her sarcasm.

“Try, responsible. It means I take responsibility for my life, my condition, everything. And that includes the shit that goes with it. Not being able to trust anyone. Not being able to have a normal life. Not being able to have a life partner or kids. My life didn’t end with this, it just got different. Put that damn hat on and wear it.”

“So you’re telling me...”

“...Shut up! Pissin me off,” Stef says, angrily.

Lillian knows she pushed her too far. But she also knows how to bring her back. She reaches over Stef’s head, gesturing, “may I?” Stef doesn’t know what she wants and could care a less. Lillian removes an imaginary hat from Stefanie’s head and pretends to put it on her own. She adjusts it and goes back to her rocking.

“You are such an idiot!” Stef proclaims, unable to contain her smile.

“How many of these you got,” Lillian asks. “This one’s a little big. I could almost wear it as a dress. Big ass head of yours.”

Stef takes Lillian’s hand and the two go back to their rocking. The crick and crack of the wood-on-wood relaxes them.

“You know,” Stef says, “the more I think about it the more I’m convinced you’d like being a werewolf.”

Lillian’s eyes glaze over. “Can you imagine the havoc of an African American werewolf? Oh, be still my beating heart. The white man would never be the same. I’d head south and wait for the next KKK rally.” Lillian jumps up - “I can see it now – hey, boys … sup? They’d be screamin’, runnin’ into each other. Rahhh!” she growls, extending her arms high over her head, nails ready to strike as if she were one. “Get your white ass on my plate. I’d use that burnin’ cross as a skewer.”

Stef falls out of her chair laughing just as Foster and Brizzbee pull up. Lillian collapses onto Stefanie, laughing as well.

“Pass the crackers ...” Stef blurts out, sending them further into their hysteria.

Brizzbee and Foster watch from the truck.

“I wonder what they’re laughing at?”

“Could ask them,” says, Brizzbee.

“Don’t want to pry.”

Later, Foster pulls into the parking lot of a different restaurant. It’s close to the shore of a large lake. Lillian’s enamored with the view …

“Can we walk the shore? I want to walk the shore.”

“I’ll go with you.” Brizzbee offers. “Let’s eat first.”

“So, no call from Ominous?” Stef asks.

“Not yet,” Foster says. “But it’s still early.”

“We have a plan in case he doesn’t,” Brizzbee says. “If you’re interested.”

She is but she’d like to hear the plan first. Lillian blurts out, “We’re in.”

“Lillian, you have to stop managing my life.”

“No I don’t. That may be what you want but that’s not what’s going to happen.”

Inside, Lillian sits close to the window, over-looking the lake. She’s peeled to the glass as the waitress takes their order. The waitress leaves the table and Lillian asks,

“So what’s the plan?”

“Oh, Lillian,” Brizzbee says. “Not this time. We have to keep you out of dart range. Seriously. It could be too dangerous.”

Stef is shaking her head, knowing that’s not going to work. Brizzbee queries her but she’s going to let Lillian handle it.

Lillian leans across the table, placing her hand on his. “You’re a man of vision, Brizzbee. Now you tell me if you really think after all I’ve been through with my best friend that I’m actually going to stand by and let her go though this alone? Here’s my terms. I will not undermine you, I will not get in your way, and I will be going.”

He turns to Foster, confused, stating, - “I don’t see any options.”

“There aren’t any,” Foster comments. “Just concede and save face. It’s the only way you can still appear to be in charge.”

“Appear?” Brizzbee queries, fearing the obvious? “But I’m really not.”

“No,” Foster says. “But that’s what makes you a man of vision.”

Brizzbee considers Lillian and Stef. Lillian makes little circles on his wrist with her finger waiting for him to agree. He looks at her finger, and then at her. She smiles, drawing larger circles.

“Just promise me you won’t go after Ominous again.”

“That’ll be up to Ominous.”

Brizzbee concedes. Foster knows how he feels, but he also understands her point of view.

“You can’t blame her,” Foster says. S~ᴇaʀᴄh the FɪndNøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“Oh, I don’t blame her. I just don’t want to die tonight. Alright. Here it is. It’s simple, safe and you can still do your own thing. We’ll drop you at the parking lot where we think he parked the first night. Once you cross over, you’ll find his scent, follow it to where he parked his car that

night and we’ll be able to track him from his plate. We know what cars were there the first night – to a degree. Might be a few we didn’t get but we’ll just have to play the odds. We’ll cross match the plates and maybe come up with a name.”

“That’s easy enough,” Stef says.

“It sounds easy,” Foster adds. “You still have to make it through the night without him finding you or you finding him.”

“So we won’t be trying to trap him this time?” Lillian, asks.

“No,” Brizzbee, says. “We’ll be close by so that if the bush-whacker here needs us, we’ll be able to help.”

“Hairwolf,” Lillian corrects.

“Hairwolf. Mmm. I like that too,” Brizzbee says.

“Call her what you want but her name is Schteffy-wolf.” Stef says playfully to Foster. But Foster’s so lost in her gaze he doesn’t hear her. Stef’s playfulness turns to embarrassment.

She’s never been looked at so deeply before. What’s he doing? Why is he doing this? She’s afraid.

She looks away but then has to look back. Things are different this time. She doesn’t have to run. There are no secrets to hide. This is a moment she’s waited for all of her life. She holds his eye contact, equally lost in his gaze but less confident in the result. She looks down at the table.

Lillian, reaches for her hand, tilting an eyebrow over Foster’s attention to her.

At another table, a patron coughs uncontrollably as a waitress delivers desert to Stef’s table. Stef

glances at the man. His coughing intensifies. Lillian turns to see him and notices it’s the man with the Teddy from the motel. He’s sitting with his back to them.

He reaches for a napkin and covers his mouth. He rises and crosses to the rest room revealing a ten-year old girl sitting across from him. She watches with concern as he leaves for the bathroom. The little girl fidgets with strands of her long blonde hair, uncomfortable from the

prying eyes his coughing has brought.

Stef notices blood on his napkin as he passes by her. She shifts her attention back on to the little girl. She’s transfixed on something on the table. It’s small splatters of blood. The waitress wipes it up immediately, offering, “Maybe I should get him another glass of water.”

The little girl, wearing a denim Romper several sizes too big, possibly a hand-me-down, exits the booth and trips on the laces of her warn blue converse sneakers. She stumbles towards Stef but Stef’s quick reflexes, catches her from a painful fall.

The two hold eye contact for a second. The little girl appears surprised but mostly embarrassed.

“I’m sorry,” she says and continues towards the bathroom entrance area.

“Dad. Do you want more water?” she asks.

Lillian leans into Stef, “They’re staying at our motel. I saw him earlier.”

The man hasn’t answered. His coughing escapes into the restaurant. The little girl waits outside the door, worried and concerned. A male waiter gestures, he’ll check on him. He enters the men’s

room. She stands tight against the wall and waits. The waiter exits with a twenty dollar bill and

the check.

“Your father said you should wait outside. He’ll be out shortly.”

She isn’t going anywhere. She finds a spot out of the way and hunkers down.

Stef can’t take her eyes off of her.

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