Unconventionally Wolf by Julie Steimle (read 50 shades of grey TXT) 📕

"No," Carl said, trying to steer Rick away.

But Rick lingered, not allowing it. He said, "I didn't fall in with a cult. There was a misunderstanding at my father's factory over the summer. And the manager who had caused the problem, which led to a mass employee walkout, spread that rumor when he quit the job."

The journalist nodded. "Ok. I see. But then can you tell me about the pictures circulating on the internet and the police report connected to that incident?"

Rick lifted his eyebrows. "I haven't seen these pictures."

"Come on," Carl insisted.

"Here," the journalist said. "I'll show you on my phone." He pulled out his cell phone and dug up the website. The pictures were of the bonfire remains, the ghost town, the bullet holes, the wound on Rick's shoulder, and the police report. It was thorough.

Nodding, Rick exhaled, thinking. He looked to the journalist and finally said, "Have you ever heard that crazy rumor that my father and I are werewolves?"

The journalist laughed, nodding.

With a sigh, Rick figured out what to say. "Alright, for your viewers, you need to know there are kooks out there that believe that rumor, and occasionally try to hunt my father and me—shooting at us. I took refuge in a small squatter community that was holding a bonfire that night. They were living in an existing ghost town. Anyway, when I went to their bonfire, which was also a barbecue, one of those kooky hunters came after me, freaked out and started shooting at the crowd. I ran back to my father's factory because I found out that jerk of a manager had led the hunter there and I had to deal with him. But instead of filing a complaint with the police, the people in the town just decided to relocate somewhere else. That's what really happened."

"What happened to the shooter?" the journalist asked.

Rick shook his head. "The townspeople kept dogs. Wild ones, practically. And they sicked them on the guy."

"Oh…" The journalist cringed.

 Rick nodded. "And unfortunately, for that, the narrative that I am a werewolf continues."

The independent journalist nodded. "I see. Thank you."

Carl then pulled Rick away.

Once they were at the car, which opened up the moment they arrived, Carl said as Rick climbed in with his bodyguards. "You shouldn't have said that."

"No." Rick shook his head. "I had to set the record straight." He then chuckled. "Well, as straight as I publically can be."

Carl still shook his head.

Once Carl got inside, the driver took off into New York City traffic.

Chapter Twelve

They did not go back to the hotel. Carl took Rick to his family's penthouse where Rick could raid the refrigerator, put on a movie, and sit in his pajamas while eating chicken with garlic-free dipping sauce. Rick slept in his own bed, in his own sheets, and woke up the next morning actually feeling rested. He had no nightmares.

Carl took Rick to school once Rick had finished breakfast, dropping him off at his dorm. But before he left, Carl handed back Rick's cell phone.

Rick stared at it.

"It has a new sim card," Carl said. "New phone number. You'll want to call your close friends and get them established in your phonebook."

Nodding, Rick just hoped he remembered their cellphone numbers.

"I have already given my report to your father," Carl said, businesslike. But then he smiled. "He was pleased with your performance."

Trying to hide a smile, Rick nodded again. It was nice being trusted again, if only for a short time.

As Carl turned to go, however, he said, "I, however, expect you to do better next time."

Rick had to choke back a laugh. He wasn't sure if Carl was teasing or being serious.

As Carl left, Rick turned to go up to his dorm room. Since he had no luggage, the trip hardly took any time at all. All his work-of-art suits had been taken to the cleaners and would be stored at the penthouse whenever Rick needed them. At least that was what Carl had said then he had picked up Rick that morning. When Rick entered his dorm room, going in with his keys, his roommate lifted his head in surprise, still in his pajamas but at his desk.

"Where have you been?" He rubbed his mussed up hair, scratching his scalp with a yawn.

"Environmental convention," Rick said, walking straight over to his desk where everything was still out as he had left it the day before. A neat notebook rested on top of them, apparently filled with notes. Rick wondered what homework he had for the classes he had missed.

"A what?" His roommate stared at him. "No really. Where were you?"

Rick nodded once more to him. "I was at an environmental convention in New York City at the Javits Convention Center all day yesterday. I was sitting in for my father on two of their panels. You can look it up online."

But his roommate just stared more.

Opening the notebook on his missed classes, Rick peered at the neatly penned writing. The pages were thorough and beautifully outlined with bullet points. Rick just hoped the note-taker put down the relevant stuff. 

His cell phone began to chime. The sound was so foreign to him that for a moment Rick forgot that it was his phone that was ringing. He picked it up. "Hello?"

<< Howie. Good. That means Mr. Webb has replaced your phone. You must be back at the dorms now, right? >>

Sighing, Rick wished his father was a little less businesslike right now. "Yes. I just got in."

<< Ok. >> He was then silent for a moment, probably thinking. << Son, you did the right thing by giving up your phone. >>

Heaving another sigh, Rick rested his hand on his forehead, leaning against the desk. "Sure."

<< How are you feeling? >>

That was more like it. Breathing in and out, Rick said, "I don’t know. It's still a battle, but…" He shook his head. "Dad, is it evil to be happy about someone else's bad news?"

His roommate's eyes widened, overhearing him. He tried not to stare.

<< Depends on the bad news. And I don't think you are so much as happy as relieved. Being a father at your age would have been a terrible burden. >>

Rick nodded. "Yeah."

<< You need to completely separate yourself from her. >>

"I know," Rick said. "But…"

<< But what? >>

"You know, I met with the Loup Garou representatives at the convention," he said. "And they said something that I need confirmed or denied. Preferably denied, but I want the truth even if it is ugly."

<< I will give you the truth. >>

"No holding back?" Rick asked.

His father paused.

"You see, you keep a lot of secrets from me. And I am a little tired of that," Rick said, ignoring his roommate who was staring. "I know you are just trying to protect me, but am nearing the age you were when you took up the company. I need to know the whole truth."

He could hear his father sigh. << Alright. It is only fair. >>

Drawing in a breath, Rick said, "The Loup Garou…" He then peeked to his roommate, realizing he had an audience, and then got up. Rick walked back out into the hall. "Sorry, roommate… Anyway. The Loup Garou figured out I had uh, bonded with a she-wolf during a full moon. And they said that 'if a pair of wolves mate under the full moon after a hunt, sometimes it creates a life bond which cannot be broken'—and that is a direct quote. Is it true? Or is it something pack wolves say to us lone wolves to manipulate us?"

His father sounded winded. << They said that? >>

"It wasn't under the full moon when you were with all those—"

<< No. Waning crescent. >> He knew his father was telling the truth, as he kept keen watch on the phases of the moon.

"So then what about me?" Rick asked. "Be honest."

His father did not answer for a bit. Then he said, << I don't know. >>

Rick pressed a hand to his forehead.

<< I think that is more of a pack wolf thing. She-wolves generally gravitate toward packs. And a wolf like us could not possibly mate with a human during the full moon. It would be too dangerous. >>

A human wife. Of course his father would think about that. His dad’s mother was human. So was his wife. It was quite possible that his father would have preferred Rick to have fallen in love with a human female rather than a she-wolf—though Rick technically wasn't in love.

"Dad," Rick said, his eyes to the ceiling now. "If what they said was true, and I am bonded to Daisy for life, you might have to consider a way to help us break her away from the pack."

<< I've already thought about it. >>

Rick breathed a relieved sigh. 

<< However, I would like to test that theory before we buy into it. Which is why I don't want you to have contact with her. I still believe that you have a choice. Your future is not yet determined. >>

Honestly, Rick hoped that was the case. As much as Daisy was gorgeous and made him feel entirely wolf, she wasn't a suitable companion for daily human life. And now that she wasn't carrying his child he could start over.

<< There is all kinds of magic, son. But real power comes from above. And your choice matters. >>

His choice. Yes. It mattered. And he was choosing to make a clean break. To start over.

<< Oh, and by the way, Mr. Webb would appreciate it if you didn’t call him Carl, but used his last name in the proper address: Mr. Webb. He didn't want to chastise you, as you were going through a lot at the time. But I think I should remind you that titles do matter. >>

Rick rolled his eyes. Carl Webb really was so formal. "Coming from a guy who made me wear 'works of art' to an environmental convention, I don't think so."

<< Works of art? >>

With an Italian accent, Rick replied, "A Fennucci."

His father chuckled. At least he got the movie reference. << Fine. I can't force you. >>

Rick doubted that. But it was still nice to hear. His father was sounding more like himself. Less stressed out.

Rick peeked at his watch. "Oh! I have a class in fifteen minutes. Is there anything else you need from me?"

<< No. I'm just checking up. You sound better. >>

"Do I?" Rick honestly hoped he did. He felt better.

<< Yes. Definitely. >>

That was good news.

<< I'll let you know when the next convention I need you to attend comes up. >>

Rick whimpered. "Do I really have to do these?"

<< Oh yes. Definitely. It is good for you, and for the company. This one convention was a success. >>

Raising his eyebrows, Rick laughed. "A success? I ran from hunters most of the time and I nearly died during a panel."

<< That’s not the worst that's happened to me at one of those. I nearly attacked someone. I almost bit him. >>

"No way." Rick almost forgot he had a class.

<< Yes. And I was in my early twenties. I hadn't even