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"So, how weird do they think you are?" she asked, wiping a drop of sweat from her nose.
"They think I'm a Satanist."
"A what?" Vivian was amused.
"A Satanist. Just because I'm interested in the unknown. I mean, how would anyone learn anything if they weren't curious? How would scientists make discoveries? They're so narrow-minded. They're pissed off because I'm different from them. We all have the right to be different, don't we?">Esmé's shoulders heaved in helpless sobs and Vivian's anger shriveled. She put her arms around her mother, buried her face in Esmé's hair, and cried with her in dissonant duet. Esmé clung to her.
There was nothing they could do. He was gone and the world was an alien landscape.
"Let's go out," Esmé said abruptly, wiping the back of her hand across her eyes. "Let's cheer ourselves up." She grabbed Vivian by the shoulders, then planted a quick kiss on her daughters nose. "We'll treat ourselves to dinner. We deserve it." She leaped to her feet.
Vivian, momentarily confused by her mothers change of mood, didn't answer.
"We'll go to Tooley's and see if any of the pack are there," Esmé said. "But I can only afford burgers."
"I can't do that," Vivian said. "I'm underage."
"Nonsense," Esmé insisted. "As long as you don't drink, no one's gonna throw you out. Especially since you will definitely improve the décor." Esmé smiled proudly at her daughter. "You look just like me."
Vivian couldn't help chuckling. Esmé was her usual arrogant self again. Maybe it would be fun at that.
Maybe she'd enjoy some roughhousing and teasing in the local bar. Maybe she'd like the feel of her palm across the cheeks of some fresh young fool who'd only laugh if off. "Sure, Mom. Let's kick ass."
"Its a deal," Esmé said. "Now I gotta go wash my face. I know I look like shit."
At the door, she paused and turned back to Vivian. There was a slight tremble back in her lower lip. "Thanks, my precious," she said.
There was a scattering of people among the tables and booths at Tooley's; some bikers were at the bar, and four men gathered around the large-screen television watching the Orioles lose. No pack, Vivian thought until they were greeted by an enthusiastic howl from a shadowed corner booth.
"Watch it, Bucky," Esmé warned, hand on hip, but Vivian knew she would have been disappointed if he hadn't noticed.
"You ain't workin' tonight," growled the owner, Terry O'Toole, from behind the bar. "What you doin' here?"
"Can't tear myself away from you, honey," Esmé said, and slid oh so sweet and slinky into a chair.
Vivian saw Tooley color slightly, and saw the twitch of satisfaction on his lips. "She ain't drinkin'," he snapped, pointing at Vivian with a dish towel.
Vivian shrugged. "Not me." She sat down with her mother and crossed her legs in a way she knew made them look a mile long.
"I know you're under twenty-one," Tooley added, as if someone had argued with him, and he began to polish the water stains vigorously off a glass no one would look at too closely anyway.
"Hi, Brenda," Esmé said to the waitress who appeared. "We'd like two orders of grease on a bun with all the trimmings. A draft for me and a Shirley Temple for my baby."
"Make that a Coke," Vivian said.
Brenda winked. "Want me to goose that?"
Vivian shook her head. "Nah. The old lady needs to keep her job."
"Old lady!" Esmé squealed, and Brenda left giggling.
It wasn't until they were wiping the crumbs from their mouths that more members of the pack came drifting in, some still yawning from after-work naps, others ready to raise the devil. Tooley's was the place to go, the place to find out where the party was.
Most of the wolf-kind came to Vivian and Esmé's table and greeted them. There was no new leader yet, and Esmé was the widowed queen. And a tasty morsel, too, Vivian thought. She could see it in the eyes of the males and the tight smiles of their mates. A female on the loose was a dangerous creature; she could challenge another bitch for a male she fancied. Some of those male eyes strayed to Vivian, too, and she preened at the thought of being a threat. She and Esmé exchanged knowing looks, their lips plump, curved, and smug.
The group around the TV was larger now, swelled by wolf-kind. Two were males who'd run with Astrid. A cheer went up. The game had turned.
Vivian noted a couple of bikers sauntering over to their table. It was the same two from the other night - Skull and his sidekick. They never learn, she thought.
