Chapter Three

Alfie

Since my brother Theo’s relationship with a human, Zoey, was exposed a few months ago, my life has turned upside down. From being the anonymous artist behind the musical group Labyrinth to being openly known as an Other, it’s been a whirlwind experience.

The silver lining of my sudden, forced “coming out” is that I no longer have to hide. My face was plastered all over the media as I supported my father’s failed senatorial campaign. In the past, it was always easier for my brother and me to stay out of the public eye for our own safety, and to ensure our father’s political success. Another bonus to my new notoriety is that my digital sales have skyrocketed, and my income has multiplied tenfold.

My father lost his election, causing a blow to his ego and forcing him into early retirement. But he and my mother claim they’re happy traveling now that they’re finally free from the Senate schedule. Meanwhile, Theo and Zoey’s relationship has only grown stronger through the chaos—they’re now engaged.

We were adopted as infants, shortly after we fell onto the sands of the Mojave. We were about the same age, and clearly aren’t related by DNA. We’re close, though, perhaps closer than most brothers who are related by blood.

Adjusting to my newfound fame hasn’t been easy. While I still spend most of my time locked away in my house, women who once sought me out as an exotic Other on the dark web are now clamoring to meet me as a famous musician. But I can’t complain too much; without them, I’d be painfully celibate.

When I’d needed to keep my anonymity as the only member of Labyrinth, I’d built what I dubbed the “sex shack” at the edge of my land. That kept female guests I met on the web from seeing all the recording equipment in my house and possibly connecting the dots to my real identity. Since I’m now a public figure, although still a reclusive one, I’ve converted the little building into a recording studio and now entertain women in my house.

Right now, I’m enjoying my naked stroll from the studio to my house—something about my minotaur DNA makes me hate wearing clothes. Stopping and turning my head to the sky, I’m caught in a worried reverie when I hear a car on the gravel drive. Shit. Theo and Zoey said they’d be here at two. Where did the time go?

I hurry in and head to my room to pull on some sweatpants. Zoey and Theo have made it clear that catching me in the nude would be what my mother would call a faux pas. Zoey was a bit less genteel about it.

“Alfie,” she’d said, her Southern drawl at its most obvious, “I have no desire to see your cock and balls, no matter how many other women are dying to get a gander of them up close and personal.”

By the time I join the two of them in the large living area, Theo has a beer in his hand, and Zoey’s grabbed an orange soda I keep in the fridge just for her.

“How’s it hanging?” I ask Theo, just to irritate Zoey with my bad manners.

“Not bad. How about you? How’s the hiring search going?”

“Like shit.” Instead of grabbing a beer, I go straight for the Glenfiddich scotch and pour three fingers.

“Tell us again…” Zoey prompts, although I had already told her about the Ashley/Amanda fiasco. Does she want to rub my muzzle in it? “Never mind. You told us. I thought you were going to reach out and offer that woman a job even though she walked out of the interview.” She rolls her eyes and adds, “I don’t blame her for that one bit.”

“I emailed her a job offer. No one was nearly as qualified as her. And, bonus, she’d never heard of Labyrinth until she read the job description. Which assures me she’s not going to be like half the applicants who only wanted to work for me because of my celebrity status.”

I take a slow sip of my drink, even though a petulant, childish part of me wants to toss back half the glass in one go.

“She didn’t respond to my emailed job offer, so I waited two days, then upped the ante. Offered her a ten percent raise.”

“And?” my brother asks as he presses the button that makes all the floor-to-ceiling windows swivel open for the mild March breeze to waft in.

“And… she responded with a simple ‘no, thank you’.”

“That’s it?” Zoey asks, leaning forward, elbows on her knees, her bottle of orange soda in hand.

“My first email delineated all the qualifications that made me choose her, as well as a sincere apology.”

Zoey makes a gimme motion with her free hand. “Let me read it.”

I smirk, having expected nothing less from her.

As I scroll through my phone to find the email thread, I thank my lucky stars that Theo and Zoey are in my life. Although Zoey is a new addition, she’s one of my staunchest supporters. I doubt that’s because I offered her fiancée a job as my Chief Financial Officer, for which I pay him handsomely. The woman genuinely likes me, I think, despite my tendency to let my balls hang free.

Crossing the room to hand her the phone, then settling back onto the other couch, I watch her eyes narrow as she reads the email stream. I don’t have to wonder what she thinks as she reads out loud, her voice showing more disapproval with every syllable.

“‘Let me apologize for my behavior at our interview. Although I have no control over the actions of others, I’m sorry if my houseguest caused you any discomfort.’”

Zoey wipes her palm across her lips, closes her eyes, and shakes her head in disappointment.

“Really, Alfie? That’s the best you could do?”

Maybe I’m missing something here, but I feel somewhat vindicated when Theo asks, “What’s wrong with that? Sounds good to me.”

“I read an article in Cosmo once on how to give an apology. It was way more words than it needed to be because it all came down to this: say what you did in detail, admit responsibility, take a guess at how your actions affected the other person, express regret, be clear about how you will rectify the situation in the future, and never ask for forgiveness because it should be freely given, not an obligation. Well, at least you didn’t violate the last rule. You scored one out of five, Alfie.”

When I stutter out a pathetic, “I thought I did all that,” she thrusts the phone back into my hand and dictates what she calls “a proper apology.”

My fat fingers fly as I try to keep up with her. After correcting spelling errors and filling in a few words I missed, I read it back to her.

“Dear Stephanie, I’m sorry that I arrived late to our appointment and was not dressed in a respectful manner. You arrived on time, and I should have done the same. There is no excuse for that.”

Distracted, I run my fingers through the ruff at my neck as I continue.

“I regret that I didn’t treat our meeting with the respect and dignity it deserved, including asking my houseguest not to interrupt our important interview. I take full responsibility for my poor manners and sincerely regret how uncomfortable that may have made you feel.”

As I read it out loud, I realize this is head and shoulders better than my piss-poor attempt at a proper apology.

“Should you agree to my job offer at the hourly rate of twenty percent above the price quoted in my ad, I will never again treat you or your time with so little regard.”

Now that I’m on a roll, I add some words of my own.

“The reasons I’m so eager to have you as the second full-time employee of Labyrinth, Inc., are your glowing recommendations from Vance Industries, and the skill set you’ll bring to the job. It seems to match my needs perfectly.”

I glance at Zoey and get her smile and a nod, which means she heartily approves of my additions.

“Please reconsider my offer, and if you still believe we’re not a good fit, I’ll completely understand. I look forward to hearing from you soon. Respectfully, Alfie Foster.”

“Well done,” Zoey says as she crosses the room, walks behind my couch, and begins one of my favorite things in the world, a shoulder and neck massage.

The first time she did that, I froze, terrified that my brother’s then-girlfriend was flirting with me. In the few months since then, I realize this is just Zoey’s way of being a friend. She’s never touched me when Theo isn’t in the room, which speaks volumes about how solid their relationship is and how much respect she has for him.

I also suspect she disapproves of all the women I have over. Perhaps she thinks her chaste massages will fill my need for physical touch. I’ve never had the heart to break it to her that no matter how heavenly her massages feel, they can’t compare to bedroom gymnastics.

“My brother is lucky to have you, Zoey.” I tell her. “Me too.”