In a Badger Way (Honey Badger Chronicles #2) - Shelly Laurenston Page 0,151
proper name. “Too much like we’re really a band rather than just a group of like-minded geniuses,” Stevie had remarked when Shen mentioned it.
It turned out just to be a last-minute Kuznetsov Pack get-together that evening because some wild dog friends from Germany had shown up and they all wanted to celebrate as only wild dogs could: by badly singing along to great music performed by musical geniuses.
“We got a request,” Stevie said. “From the lovely ladies at the bar there.” Shen glanced over. The women didn’t look or smell like shifters, but he had no idea who they were. It was unusual for full-humans no one knew to attend a wild dog party, but there was something about the group that no one wanted to challenge either. So, they just left them alone and that seemed to work for everyone. Besides, wild dogs didn’t really have the kind of parties that involved the unleashing of claws or fangs.
“So get ready, Zeppelin fans,” Stevie continued, “it’s time for a little ‘Immigrant Song!’” she yelled out. The music started and everyone cheered, many others head-banged, and Stevie sang in her best Robert Plant voice while she was Jimmy Paige on her guitar.
It was great.
An hour later, The Band took a break and Stevie came over to Shen, jumping onto his back as she liked to do. She was so petite, though, he barely felt her.
Arms around his neck, legs around his waist, Stevie kissed his cheek.
“You were amazing,” he told her, placing her beer in her hand.
“Thank you.”
“Why didn’t your sisters come?”
“Max had plans and Charlie was, to quote her, ‘not in the mood to be around labradoodles.’”
“Ouch.”
Stevie laughed. “Yeah. I know. That’s my bitchy sis.”
“Not bitchy. Direct. I enjoy that in a woman that I don’t want to kill me. There’s no confusion about what crosses her boundaries.”
* * *
Stevie loved that Shen didn’t mind walking around a bar with her attached to his back. Not many men were comfortable with that sort of thing, but he seemed to enjoy it.
As they made the rounds, Stevie spotted Kyle. She hadn’t seen him in days. Since she’d dealt with James Wells. A problem that had quietly gone away. Thankfully. But she had to admit, she wasn’t surprised when Conridge called her and asked if she wanted to go back to the lab. To see what he had there. Shen had to go with her because Max had freaked out so badly about how Conridge was “going to wipe you from the world!”
Not really. Instead, they barely spoke to each other, too busy going through Wells’s notebooks and computer files.
Although the damage to the walls and windows still remained, the bodies and blood had been removed. Something Stevie greatly appreciated. It allowed her to focus on the work while Shen sat in an office chair, eating bamboo, and turning in circles. The man really didn’t need much to be entertained.
She patted Shen’s shoulder and pointed at the ground. He let her down and she went to Kyle, sitting across from him at his small table.
“How’s it going?” she asked him.
Oriana, who’d been walking over to the table with a big smile and a vodka tonic in her hand, stopped when she heard Stevie’s question. When Kyle’s only response was to sigh—deeply—her eyes crossed and she found another table to sit at.
Stevie knew she could talk to her friend later. Or even tomorrow. They’d been working on the ballet together and were spending several hours a day on it. But right now, Stevie had to check on her neediest friend.
“Are you really just going to sit here and feel sorry for yourself,” Stevie asked, “or are you going to get back to work?”
Kyle rested his cheek against the table. “What’s the point? So I can just prolong my failure?”
“Or you could create something new.”
He sighed again and Stevie ran out of patience just like that. She expected this from other artists. Regular, everyday artists. But not Kyle. Never Kyle.
So she did what she had to in order to help her pathetic, whiny, needy friend.
“It’s okay,” she said. “I understand. Besides, with Denny . . .”
She let the nickname of Kyle’s younger brother Dennis hang out there.
And, as she expected, he took the bait.
Kyle raised his head, stared at Stevie. “What about Denny?”
“Nothing. Forget it. Forget I said anything.”
“Said anything about what?”
“Well . . . I heard that there’s been some interest from your old school in Italy.”