Tiger Lily - May Dawson

1

Lily

I was definitely not the only twenty-something stuck in a ridiculous job with ridiculous people.

But I was the only twenty-something tiger shifter I knew who lived that way. It felt absurd sometimes: rushing in my sensible flats to work, a can of tuna in my purse in hopes I’d actually get time for lunch. But pretending to be human was the only way to leave behind my hometown, Silver Springs.

Living on two feet is complicated. That’s just a fact of life.

At seven-fifty-eight, I stashed my purse below the reception desk in the lobby of our office suite. Two of the senior analysts, Debbie and Rob, were deep in conversation as they walked through the front door.

“I saw Jonathan post on Facebook about his nephew’s graduation party,” Rob said.

“Oh good grief,” Debbie shook her head. “I’d place a bet that we’ll have another sycophantic sniveler joining us, then.”

“At least Jonathan’s nephew probably won’t be a snob who uses big words no one understands,” Rob teased. The two of them were always poking at each other; he didn’t mean anything bad when he called her a snob.

They both laughed, then broke off when they saw me. I flashed a smile at them—it’s not as if I was going to tell the boss how much they hate his endless cycle of relatives who get their start here at Cleary Associates. I was on their side.

I’d been here for a year, since I graduated college with a dual degree in English and Art Education, and I still didn’t know why the place is called Cleary Consulting. Jonathan started the place, and his last name is Weaver. There’s no Cleary in sight.

“Good morning, Lily,” Debbie said, sounding a bit sad, and I wondered what had her feeling down. Debbie was usually so cheerful.

But I didn’t have time to wonder, as Jonathan pushed the door open from the cubicle farm to the lobby.

“Oh good, you’re finally here.” Jonathan said to me.

I glanced at the clock. 8:01. There was no reason for him to think I was late, and my lips parted, about to tell him just that, before I pressed them together. It was no use, really.

“Lily, be a dear and get me my usual from Starbucks,” Jonathan said. “Get yourself something too.”

“Sure. But then there’s no one here to run reception.” I didn’t really mind—I savored the walk. I preferred to spend as much time outside as I could, and being a receptionist wasn’t great for that. Neither was city life, to be honest.

“Mm? It’s fine.” He patted his hip. “Oh, my wallet is at my desk. I’ll get you when you come back. Oh—and a blueberry muffin too.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t think Starbucks has them. I like the crumb-top muffins at Rogers’ bakery.”

I glanced at the clock again. Rogers’ bakery was in the opposite direction. He would probably send me on this absurd errand and then complain about how long it took me.

But whatever. I was a big fan of Rogers too, and I skipped breakfast, and he was my boss. This was part of living in the real world, wasn’t it? Dealing with dickhead bosses? I was just living my most human life.

I smiled at him sweetly. “Be right back.”

My walk in the early summer air was refreshing. I loved the contrast between sunshine warming my hair and a cool breeze skating over my skin. While I was walking, my cell chimed with a text, and I reluctantly pulled my phone out to glance at it, even though I didn’t want to take my eyes off the trees that shaded the street, their vibrant green leaves shaking in the breeze.

It was my grandfather. Morning, beautiful girl! Today is a great day to come home.

I grinned and shook my head, slipping my phone back into my purse. He texted me twice a day, to say good morning and to say good night. And every time, he always said…

My phone buzzed again. I knew it was the missing message even before I saw it. I love you!

He would never quit. He wanted me to come home to Silver Springs so badly. Seeing me once a month was definitely not enough for the man. I’d go home more often, but my boyfriend, Brad, always wanted to spend the weekends with me—and he didn’t want to spend them in Silver Springs. My grandfather wasn’t openly rude to him, but the few times they met, he’d rolled his eyes behind Brad’s back. Brad got the general vibe.

This morning, honestly, my grandfather’s