The only redeeming quality I could find for Richie was that he luckily allowed even the new bartenders to keep their tips without pooling them. The cocktail prices were definitely overpriced, but The Club was packed from the moment we opened. If someone paid even twelve bucks for a simple cocktail made from rail alcohol, they still tipped about five to seven dollars from it. After serving well over fifty people as well as making cocktails for servers to deliver, I was finding the tips were most definitely worth dealing with Richie and his inappropriate behavior.
“Hey, Everly, you have a phone call,” said Courtney, motioning her head to the back room. I had just finished running a credit card on the register for a sweet elderly couple who had purchased two gin and tonics.
I didn’t think anything of a phone call up until I was in the back room pondering why someone would be calling me here of all places. The only two people I had informed of my plans to work at The Club were Simon and Erik; not even Miranda had been privy to my job change. I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket. Even while on silent, it didn’t indicate anyone tried calling.
The back room that was the employee lounge was stuffy and small; there wasn’t enough space for anything other than a small table and mini fridge. The landline was new but old, obviously not used when hidden in this small and cramped area. “Hello?” I asked as soon as the phone went to my ear.
“Everly, Everly, Everly,” said the familiar voice of Cale. “How long are you going to stay at this job? Because I have to admit, Uncle Richie is even getting on my nerves.” All words became lost in my throat. Nothing came to mind as I simply stared at the linoleum beneath my feet. Not only did Cale know how to find me, he knew about Richie and his uncle comment earlier. Clearly he was near enough to have overheard.
“What, nothing to say?” inquired Cale cheerfully over the line. “I know you’re still there; I can hear your breathing.”
I did a double take between the receiver and down at myself. There was nothing abnormal about my breathing; I wasn’t panting or anything of the sort. But if Cale had really overheard Richie just from being outside, I had no doubt he could hear my small breaths over the phone.
“W-why are you calling?” My stutter showcased my fear. But as I thought about it, I don’t know why I bothered asking. It was obvious why he would call the landline at The Club instead of my personal cell phone. Cale wanted to scare me.
“Just wanted you to know that there are no hard feelings whatsoever about leaving the hotel,” said Cale breezily. “You’re welcome back anytime.”
“That’s why you called?” I said in the breath of a whisper. “To offer me my job back?”
“Don’t be stupid,” chastised Cale. “Let’s call this a warning. Come back to the pack, and none of your pretty little coworkers are going to get hurt.”
Irrationally, I hung up the phone as soon as he spoke, terror flooding through me. I didn’t know what to say or do. This was a warning to say they know where to find me; Cale just made an open threat against my new coworkers.
I didn’t get the proper time to call Simon to inform him of these developments before the hot-headed Richie barged into the lounge to inform me he wasn’t paying me to socialize on the phone.
I barely made it through the rest of the night. Cold sweat attacked my forehead as well as the back of my neck. I didn’t have anything negative to say about my new coworkers. They were all so friendly. But as I saw the faces of Sasha, Courtney, Kirsten, and Amber throughout the night, I couldn’t help but fearfully wonder which one of the girls would be targets of the pack because of me.
At the end of the night after I helped the other bartenders do end of the night closing duties, I clocked out and walked to my truck with a herd of people. It was safer to walk in numbers; that way I could talk with Sasha and ignore the chilly feeling that the woods surrounding The Club were watching me.
That night, I told Simon about what happened on the phone with Cale. He immediately began helping me go through our own version of end of the night closing duties, locking all doors, setting up wire traps in case someone broke in, and my personal favorite, a high voltage electric wire around the doorknob to our basement. If a member of the pack broke in through the basement window, they wouldn’t be able to allow themselves upstairs without shocking themselves. It wouldn’t kill them or anyone else who tried touching it, but hopefully a very ugly zap would alert us that an intruder was in the house.
I went to bed after Simon promised that tomorrow he and Erik were going to take some extra precautions they found online.
I had a near dreamless sleep with the exception of one nightmare. It was a horrible one filled with blood and gore and the sound of a girl screaming.
But when I awoke the next morning, I found there was no nightmare at all. It was all my reality. My bed was soaked in red, a disgustingly sticky substance that covered my mint green sheets from the foot of the bed and upward. The copper smell made me dizzy. The red was all over my bed, covering me and my pajamas from head to foot.
The red was blood. As my voice lost pitch and my throat started gasping, I realized the girl screaming was me.
But none of this was as gory and horrifying than what came next. As I struggled to remove myself from my blood-soaked bed, I jumped out of my comforter when I felt something beneath it. Fresh blood oozed out of my comforter as if the bed itself was bleeding. Red covered my hands and arms, looking as though someone intentionally made it so it was completely coating my arms, hands, and body.
With a trembling hand, I fearfully through back my now bloody comforter to reveal the decapitated head of Richie.
CHAPTER 19
As luck would have it, Miranda had already left for work an hour earlier while Simon had taken the bus to school. No one was home to overhear my horrified and panicked screams. No neighbors lived close enough to hear me, either. It was ten by the time I had woken up. I hadn’t set my alarm since my shifts at The Club were all late afternoon, given it was a supper club that only had late dinner hours. I couldn’t remember pulling myself out of bed or running to the other side of the room. I was trembling with fear and barely conscious of my movements. From the look of it, no other part of Richie’s body was in my room.
I didn’t know what to do or who to call.
Simon was my only confidant in all of this, along with Erik. But I couldn’t call Simon while he was at school to tell him what had happened. There was a difference between seeing animals killed by a werewolf and a decapitated head soaked in fresh blood. I knew my brother well enough to know he wouldn’t be able to handle seeing this; he had barely been able to sit in a church during our great-grandmother’s funeral. He had been afraid of the body. There was technically no body here, just a head. But this was much worse than losing someone to old age.
I couldn’t allow my little brother to see this grisly sight.
After vomiting in the small trash can under my desk, I realized I also couldn’t call the police. There was no way to accurately explain that a werewolf murdered my new boss and then decided to place his head in bed beside me. They wouldn’t believe me, not to mention I would then be the number one suspect in Richie’s death. It wouldn’t matter that I had a solid alibi for my whereabouts. There would be no way to explain my way out of this.