Bad Wolf (Wild Men 4)
Chapter Two
Octavia
“He won’t give you t
he job, Tati,” my sister says. “No way, no how.”
“You don’t know that. Also, why are you here and not at school?”
I’m leaning against the post of the bus stop across from our house, dressed in a knee-length black dress and high-heeled pumps, my hair pulled back, my lipstick a sheer gloss. Not dressed to kill, but to land a job, a job my sister Gigi has decided I won’t get.
Well, gee, thanks for the vote of confidence, Little Sis.
“I’m getting a ride,” she says airily, waving a hand. Her nails are done a different color each, peeking from her black fingerless gloves, and I detect a new blue streak in her hair. Mom will have a fit.
“With whom?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” She bats her lashes at me.
“Same guy as two days ago? Big nose, droopy ears, acne craters across his forehead?”
She stomps her foot, grinning. “Stop it. He’s not like that.”
Yeah, that’s true, he’s not. He’s actually quite good looking. “Quasimodo, was it? The guy’s name?”
She giggles.
Gigi has the whole Harley Quinn vibe going on. She is the prettier of the two of us, the flirty one, the funny one. The sexy one. Just one year younger than me, she’s less my sister and more my best friend. Guys tend to fall in love with her all the time.
Most of the time she doesn’t even pretend to notice them.
Then I spot someone walking our way and sigh. “What about Merc?”
“What about him?”
“Is he coming with you?”
Our brother, Mercury Tyson, aka Merc, reaches us and takes off his supersonic mega earphones that make him look like the male incarnation of Leia from Star Wars. He gives us a toothy grin.
“What are you doing here?” Gigi demands.
“Hitching a ride with you.”
“You’re so not.”
“I so am. Not letting you ride with that creepy guy alone again. He may stick his tongue in your ear or grab your boob.”
“You’re an idiot,” Gigi grumbles, and turns her back to him and her attention back to me. “Hansen.”
“Huh?” I’m checking in my bag for the address and phone number of my client, afraid I left them at home.
“Matthew Hansen? The guy you’re about to meet? That one. Do you know what you’re up against?”
I roll my eyes. “He’s just a man. He needs a babysitter. I can do this in my sleep. What else is there to know?”
“Oh, Sis, you have no clue.” Gigi leans in to whisper in my ear. “He’s hotter than a nuclear explosion, girl. Panty-melting material. Italian ancestry, lumberjack muscles, huge—”
“What are you two gossiping about?” Merc gives us the evil eye.