Beast Behaving Badly
Page 88
Weve got food.
Real food? Or seal blubber?
Probably both.
She stood and stretched, and Bo was reaching for her again, his hands on her waist before she realized it and scrambled back.
No! Food! She headed off to the bathroom. Ill be out in a minute. Less than that, as she shot back out again. Oh, my God.
Whats wrong?
We left the shower on.
Thats not good for the town water supply.
Thanks, Mr. Helpful. She went back into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Bo dragged himself off the floor, stopping to pick up the empty packets and used condoms hed tossed around like some heathen, since he assumed all heathens were messy. Unwilling to use the kitchen trash for his used condoms, he walked outside naked to drop them in the big cans his uncle had behind the house. That done, he headed back inside, guessing that the weather was probably a negative twenty Fahrenheit. Weather that was not for the weak or the felines.
Once in the house, he closed the back door and headed to the dining room, passing the living room. Thats when he stopped and walked back. Blayne had on one of his high school hockey jerseys and nothing else. Although she didnt need much else since it went past her knees. Shed found his uncles CD collection. What Bo used to call his subversive music pile for no other reason than it pissed the old bastard off.
Shed put on some French alternative band singing about Tokyo and was dancing around his uncles living room like she hadnt just spent the last two hours with Bo buried either cock first or head first in her lap. Where she got all that energy from, hed never know.
Come on, she said, jumping up onto one of the couches. Dance with me.
I thought you were hungry.
Im never too hungry to dance to pretentious French music! And only Blayne could make a compliment out of an insult.
I cant dance to this, Bo told her, walking across the room.
Are you one of those guys who wont dance?
Not everyone has your lack of shame. He dug through his uncles collection, going for what he had in the back since he knew the CD was his and not Grigoris. He popped it into the player. After cleaning up that hoarders nest you call an apartment
Hey!
I know your taste.
Blaynes mouth dropped open when she heard the first bits of the song. It was from a very old movie soundtrack that few people knew about.
How . . . how did you get this?
Bootleg. Not easy to come by.
I know! Ive been trying to find this for years.
If there was one thing Bo always had a weakness for itwas sixties music and bad sixties cult movies. Hot Rods to Hell or Riot on Sunset Strip or anything with hippies and ridiculous drug usage and uptight parents . . . he was there. But Wild in the Streets was one of his all-time favorites, and hed searched with his old computer and even slower modem all through high school for the soundtrack. He somehow knew Blayne was the one person who could appreciate the great get-up-and-riot tune Fourteen or Fight, and he was right. She not only knew the song, she knew the words to the song.
She crooned the first slowly sang line, and Bo crooned the next one back to her, moving up to her as she stood on his uncles couch. Something hed normally never allow simply because it wasnt his couch and theyd already destroyed the mans coffee table. But it was Blayne and . . . and she knew the words to Fourteen or Fight!
And when a man found a woman like that, he let her stomp all over his uncles damn furniture or anywhere else for that matter!
Marci had insisted they check on the kids since they were out for a late-night stroll anyway. Harsh Maine winters didnt bother Ursus County bears, not when you were born and raised here. Although Grigori didnt need much of an excuse to stay the night at Marcis, he also figured his nephew could use a little space. Hed always been a little awkward around girls. Either too gruff, too busy staring, or just too . . . OCD. Most females couldnt handle it.
Still, the boy didnt need a babysitter, but try telling that to Marci Luntz. Grigori didnt bother to argue some things with her. She could be stubborn as any black bear hed ever met before. The grizzlies and blacks never as relaxed as the polars.
They lumbered up to the house, his belly full of the dying old walrus hed found on the beach and Marcis face still covered in the honey and pissed-off bees shed taken from the year-round hives the town kept a few miles away.
Marci was about to go up the stairs and into the house, but Grigori knew better. Using his body, he pushed her toward the side of the house with the big picture window. As they came around the corner, they both froze, their mouths open in shock while they focused on that window and what went on behind it.
Seeing Blayne on his couch didnt bother him a bit. She was a little tiny thing, so it wasnt like she could do any real damage. But seeing his nephew naked and dancing with Blayne while they listened to that crappy sixties music the boy loved . . . well, that was something Grigori had never seen, never expected to see, and was now kind of freaked out by seeing.
Not because the kid was naked. Not because he was singingthe boy had always been a bit of a hummer when he thought no one was around. But the smiling? The laughing? The pretending he had a mic while Blayne played a hippie backup singer with her long hair covering her face?
Real food? Or seal blubber?
Probably both.
She stood and stretched, and Bo was reaching for her again, his hands on her waist before she realized it and scrambled back.
No! Food! She headed off to the bathroom. Ill be out in a minute. Less than that, as she shot back out again. Oh, my God.
Whats wrong?
We left the shower on.
Thats not good for the town water supply.
Thanks, Mr. Helpful. She went back into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Bo dragged himself off the floor, stopping to pick up the empty packets and used condoms hed tossed around like some heathen, since he assumed all heathens were messy. Unwilling to use the kitchen trash for his used condoms, he walked outside naked to drop them in the big cans his uncle had behind the house. That done, he headed back inside, guessing that the weather was probably a negative twenty Fahrenheit. Weather that was not for the weak or the felines.
Once in the house, he closed the back door and headed to the dining room, passing the living room. Thats when he stopped and walked back. Blayne had on one of his high school hockey jerseys and nothing else. Although she didnt need much else since it went past her knees. Shed found his uncles CD collection. What Bo used to call his subversive music pile for no other reason than it pissed the old bastard off.
Shed put on some French alternative band singing about Tokyo and was dancing around his uncles living room like she hadnt just spent the last two hours with Bo buried either cock first or head first in her lap. Where she got all that energy from, hed never know.
Come on, she said, jumping up onto one of the couches. Dance with me.
I thought you were hungry.
Im never too hungry to dance to pretentious French music! And only Blayne could make a compliment out of an insult.
I cant dance to this, Bo told her, walking across the room.
Are you one of those guys who wont dance?
Not everyone has your lack of shame. He dug through his uncles collection, going for what he had in the back since he knew the CD was his and not Grigoris. He popped it into the player. After cleaning up that hoarders nest you call an apartment
Hey!
I know your taste.
Blaynes mouth dropped open when she heard the first bits of the song. It was from a very old movie soundtrack that few people knew about.
How . . . how did you get this?
Bootleg. Not easy to come by.
I know! Ive been trying to find this for years.
If there was one thing Bo always had a weakness for itwas sixties music and bad sixties cult movies. Hot Rods to Hell or Riot on Sunset Strip or anything with hippies and ridiculous drug usage and uptight parents . . . he was there. But Wild in the Streets was one of his all-time favorites, and hed searched with his old computer and even slower modem all through high school for the soundtrack. He somehow knew Blayne was the one person who could appreciate the great get-up-and-riot tune Fourteen or Fight, and he was right. She not only knew the song, she knew the words to the song.
She crooned the first slowly sang line, and Bo crooned the next one back to her, moving up to her as she stood on his uncles couch. Something hed normally never allow simply because it wasnt his couch and theyd already destroyed the mans coffee table. But it was Blayne and . . . and she knew the words to Fourteen or Fight!
And when a man found a woman like that, he let her stomp all over his uncles damn furniture or anywhere else for that matter!
Marci had insisted they check on the kids since they were out for a late-night stroll anyway. Harsh Maine winters didnt bother Ursus County bears, not when you were born and raised here. Although Grigori didnt need much of an excuse to stay the night at Marcis, he also figured his nephew could use a little space. Hed always been a little awkward around girls. Either too gruff, too busy staring, or just too . . . OCD. Most females couldnt handle it.
Still, the boy didnt need a babysitter, but try telling that to Marci Luntz. Grigori didnt bother to argue some things with her. She could be stubborn as any black bear hed ever met before. The grizzlies and blacks never as relaxed as the polars.
They lumbered up to the house, his belly full of the dying old walrus hed found on the beach and Marcis face still covered in the honey and pissed-off bees shed taken from the year-round hives the town kept a few miles away.
Marci was about to go up the stairs and into the house, but Grigori knew better. Using his body, he pushed her toward the side of the house with the big picture window. As they came around the corner, they both froze, their mouths open in shock while they focused on that window and what went on behind it.
Seeing Blayne on his couch didnt bother him a bit. She was a little tiny thing, so it wasnt like she could do any real damage. But seeing his nephew naked and dancing with Blayne while they listened to that crappy sixties music the boy loved . . . well, that was something Grigori had never seen, never expected to see, and was now kind of freaked out by seeing.
Not because the kid was naked. Not because he was singingthe boy had always been a bit of a hummer when he thought no one was around. But the smiling? The laughing? The pretending he had a mic while Blayne played a hippie backup singer with her long hair covering her face?
