Page 4 of Satisfaction Guaranteed

“I’m being so serious right now. I’m willing to bet money that if you go over there and ask to sit on his face, he’d let you. There’s something about him. I sense it. He’s a freak. I know what I’m talking about when it comes to these things, you should listen to me.”

The way Citlalli continues to tease her pulls Alana from her thoughts and has her ready to argue further. However, the sudden vibration of her phone against her thigh has her ripping it out of her pocket and shushing her before she gets the chance.

Excitement brews hot as she unlocks the device, but it lasts a solid two seconds before her expression falls, mouth pressed into a thin line. The contact titled “Nana” stares at her in big bold letters, and Alana takes a deep breath. “Hey, will you run the customer’s drinks out? I’ll be right back,” she tells Citlalli. Her freshly pulled espresso sits abandoned on the counter as she dips into the restroom, locks the door, and releases a heavy exhale. Counting down from three, she answers on the last ring, her tone as cheerful as she can muster.

“Hey, Nana. How are you?”

“Alana?” Her name is spoken with that sharp impatience that immediately begs Alana to feign a bad connection and hang up. “Took you long enough to pick up. Did I catch you at a bad time?”

Alana clicks her tongue. While she loves the woman, she manages to ask that every time she calls. And every time she calls, Alana tells her yes, calling during her shift will always be a bad time. Not that it ever stops her. “I’m here, Nana. Sorry, I’m at work, so I can’t talk long. You okay?”

Her grandmother, the tired old soul who she makes herself out to be, sighs, long and dramatic. “I’m as fine as I can be. Praise the old Gods.”

The muscles around Alana’s eye threaten to twitch. “That’s good. Well, listen, I’m still at work so can I—”

“I won’t keep you. I just got off the phone with your cousin, and I wanted to touch base with you, that’s all. Did you know she moved in with that boy she’s seeing? I saw her post on the social media.” Her tone tightens, and Alana raises a brow. It’s not unlike her to call with some form of gossip or another. In fact, she’d be hard-pressed to remember a single time this woman had called her about anything other than some nonsense spread through the family grapevine. Mostly because Nana Darling is the family grapevine. If there was a proposal, divorce, death, or pregnancy, Nana was going to find out about it first. Alana is certain that woman found out about her older cousin’s last pregnancy before she knew of it herself.

“You mean Niecy and Jack?” Alana asks. She leans against the bathroom door, shifting her phone between her cheek and her shoulder as she examines her nails. “That’s nice.”

A scoff of contempt sounds from the other end of the line. Bitter and sharp, Alana’s stomach twists. Her cousin Niecy is a good kid. Twenty-two, stable job. She’s been with her boyfriend for about a year now, so moving in together seemed like the next big milestone. If anything, it felt like exciting news. She’s happy for her. Alana doesn’t get the chance to say as much before her grandmother starts to rant, ever eager to run off at the mouth about her displeasure on the situation.

“I mean, honestly. I can’t fathom how her mother allowed it,” she grumbles. “Have you seen him? The boy doesn’t look like he can lead a horse to water let alone a household. With that mop on his head he calls hair, have mercy. She couldn’t have waited for an engagement at the very least? I just know she’s going to wind up pregnant by fall.”

Ah, there it is.

Two consenting adults living together with full access to all the sex their hearts desire? Well, that would lead to a baby out of wedlock. Whatever will the Darling family image do, if that were to happen?

“It’s just not right. I always thought she was such a good girl. I can’t fathom her not putting more thought into this,” Nana finally finishes. Those last string of words are rushed, her breathing rattling through the phone as though all that talking had legitimately tired her out. Alana envisions her wafting herself with one of those big paper fans she used to carry around all the time in church. The ones that matched those atrocious hats she used to wear.

“Well, she’s grown. With a good head on her shoulders. I think there’s a lot worse she can be doing than moving in with the guy she loves,” Alana reasons. This entire conversation feels like light years away from being either of their business. She attempts to direct the conversation elsewhere, when her grandmother’s next complaint forms a lump in her throat.

“I’m just disappointed. I was hoping she’d turn out more like how I helped raise you to be. Someone who knows well not to ruin her reputation or her worth.”

Her worth.

Alana’s jaw tenses, her chest tightening. These rigid views that Nana holds are hardly anything new. It’s the primary reason their conversations are so limited, nowadays. Nana has only ever had praise for Niecy and her accomplishments over the years. Did this one thing really change her view that easily? If only she knew how far Alana was from the “proper” young woman she clearly still believes her to be.

Before she can respond, a ping from her phone draws Alana’s focus away from the conversation at hand. She slides it out from beneath her cheek and checks the most recent notification.

(1.) NEW EMAIL.

Oh, shit.

“Um, listen, I have to go, Nana. I’ve got a line out the door.

Talk to you later, okay? Byeee, love you lots.” Alana disconnects before the woman can try to bait her into continuing the conversation. She’d likely get an earful for it later, but she can’t bring herself to care. She pushes her grandmother’s words and the twists of shame and guilt that came with them far towards the back of her mind. Her teeth catch her bottom lip, and she holds her breath to open her email inbox.

FROM: WEREWOLF ANONYMOUS.

RE: INQUIRY.

Shit, shit, shit.

Alana’s foot taps against the floor and her thumb hovers over the email. It isn’t rational, but a part of her is already anticipating rejection. It’s not like he knows her, or can deny her inquiry based on anything personal. But that doesn’t stop the voices in her head. Her mind’s way of reminding her not to get her hopes up. If she didn’t get her hopes up, she couldn’t be hurt or let down like the dozens of times she’d been before.

Closing her eyes, she takes another deep breath and opens the message.

Hey, Alana.