5. Sergey

5

SERGEY

T he rest of the day I’m a bundle of nerves. I work out at the hotel gym, and that helps a little. I call my alpha dad, and that helps too. I even send Heller a quick text, thanking him for giving me his number. But I’m still a little jittery as I get ready for my meeting with Cy.

This is it. My opportunity to meet with the welders that could make my dream to expand my business in Anchorage a reality. But it isn’t just that.

These are pure blooded polar bear shifters who were able to study welding at the school that rejected me. They might snub their nose at my business and ideas. I wish I didn’t care what they think, but deep down I know I do.

I show up to the Ice Bear Pub a little after ten o’clock. It’s a big place, with a long bar near the entrance, a collection of pool tables, and booths lining the outside walls. A few people are standing next to one of the pool tables. They all have bright red heart patches on the back pocket of their shorts. There’s also a couple eating nachos in one of the booths. But other than that, the pub is empty.

I take a seat at the bar so Cy can see me when he comes in. The bartender, a curvy female alpha with long white hair, approaches me. She glances at my gray hair. I’m still not sure that it was the right choice to forgo my wig tonight. It will remind everyone of all the reasons I don’t fit in at a bar like this. But Ben said there were plenty of kids in their social group who were half polar bear/half penguin. That changes things for me.

If I hide who I am, what does that say to them? The idea of them buying a white wig someday because they saw me wear one makes me sad.

“What’ll it be?” the bartender says.

“Whatever you have on tap.”

She raises her eyebrows. “I got a lot of things on tap. Polar bear shifters are snooty about their beer.”

She says that like she can safely assume I’m not a polar bear shifter.

“Not always. I’m not snooty about mine. I’ll take whatever is the cheapest.”

Old habits die hard. These days I’m a rich man. I’m not even sure how rich. But most of that money is tied up in my business, and the money that isn’t has to be used to establish myself in Anchorage.

I’ve never drank expensive beer, and I’m not about to start now.

The woman fills a glass with light brown liquid and sets it in front of me. “Would you like to start a tab?”

I nod and slide my card across the bar.

One of the pool players saunters over to me. He’s a young omega with short white hair and long, lean legs. He sits at the stool next to me.

“How are you doing?” He hooks his foot around my ankle and leans in close enough that I can smell his cologne.

He’s cute. A little young for my tastes, but I like his confidence.

“I’m all right. What club are you in?” I ask.

“What do you mean?”

“The patch on your back pocket. You and your friends all have the same one. Is that some kind of club, or…”

He sighs. “You aren’t from around here, are you?”

“Nope.”

“This patch means I’m a hired heart. Do you know what that is?” he asks.

I look him up and down. His translucent white tank top and small shorts don’t leave much to the imagination. His outfit would make sense in a place like Albuquerque, but not in the zero-degree weather outside.

“You’re a sex worker,” I say.

He nods, his smile still firmly in place. “But I can only sell sex to residents of Anchorage. I’m guessing that isn’t you.”

“No. Sorry.”

Either way, I don’t think I’m ready to pay for sex. Even if it’s been a long time since I’ve been laid. Dating in Albuquerque is rough. Most of the pizzlies pair up young. Not necessarily high school, but they’re not single at the age of thirty, like me. The snake shifters only date other snake shifters, and the scorpion shifters are the same. I’m basically stuck trying to date any human who will have me, and they’re not always thrilled to take a shifter home to their parents. None of my relationships have turned into anything serious.

The hired heart slides off the barstool. “No worries. But if you ever get an Alaska ID, you know where to find me. I’m Emery.”

“Sure thing.”

I take a long swallow of my beer as he walks back to his friends. His gait is similar to Heller’s. Maybe that’s why I thought he was cute.

“Here he is,” Cy’s voice says. I turn around to see Cy in a pair of jeans and a leather jacket. Next to him is a big, tattooed alpha who has what looks like a brand on the back of his hand and a Lego necklace matching Cy’s.

“This is Axe,” Cy tells me. “Axe, this is Sergey.”

Axe holds out his hand, then pauses. “Do you shake hands? Cy said you’re half penguin shifter, and I don’t know what that means for you culturally?—”

I grab his hand with my own and give him a hearty handshake. “It’s good to meet you.”

“It’s great to meet you too. I’ve heard about your prosthetics. I had no idea you were half penguin shifter.” Axe takes a seat at the bar next to me.

My phone dings in my hand. A message pops up on the screen. It’s from Heller.

Hello. It’s nice to hear from you.

He sends a winky face after the text.

Axe and Cy are talking to the bartender about the beer selection, so I quickly text Heller back.

Well, you did mention that you were fun. I figured I might as well.

He sends a response almost immediately.

It’s true. I am fun. Maybe I should show you how fun?

He sends a winky emoji, a kiss emoji, and a question mark.

I’m not sure what he means. Then a photo comes through. It’s of Heller smiling demurely at the camera in nothing but a silk robe. The fabric is sliding down on one side, exposing his right shoulder and clavicle.

Damn. There is nothing like his cute-as-a-button penguin shifter face, paired with the heat in his eyes. My mouth goes dry.

“Is that Heller?” Axe asks.

Too late, I realize Cy and Axe have seen the photo too. I slide my phone back into my pocket. “Sorry about that.”

“No worries,” Axe says. “I’ve heard the show is great.”

“What show?”

“Heller’s burlesque show. You know, the ad you were looking at,” Axe explains.

Cy rolls his eyes. “I think that was probably a personal photo we weren’t supposed to see, not an ad. Heller gave him his number.”

“Wait. Heller does burlesque?” I don’t know a lot about what burlesque is, but I think it involves stripping and lacy outfits. The idea of Heller in lace makes my pants tighter than they should be during a business meeting.

“Heller doesn’t just do burlesque, he’s obsessed with it,” Cy says.

Axe grins at him. “You only think that because he tried to get you to do burlesque, and you were too chicken to try it.”

“I don’t want to take off my clothes in front of a room full of people.”

Axe rolls his eyes. “You mean unless we’re at the kink club?”

“Exactly.” Cy turns to me without missing a beat. “Should we get a booth? There are several more people coming, and I think we’ll be able to hear each other better over there.” He points to the corner of the room where a large booth sits empty.

“I’ll ask the bartender if we can move over there,” Axe says.

While he and Cy try to get us a booth, I pull out my phone one more time. I discreetly open the photo. I don’t think it’s an ad or anything. The upper corner is blurry, and Heller’s pose is too casual for anything but a candid shot. But the burlesque definitely explains his confidence.

I shoot him one last text before I put my phone away for the rest of the meeting.

You’re gorgeous, Heller. I’m in a meeting at the Ice Bear Pub right now. I think it will take another hour or so. But I’d love to buy you a drink if you happened to show up here…

It isn’t every day that a penguin shifter burlesque dancer sends me a photo like that, and I’m only in town until Saturday.

I don’t want to waste any time.