Chapter Two

Oren

“Are you coming to karaoke night?” Stan, my coworker asked for the fifty millionth time.

It was our department’s once-a-month, everybody gets together and acts silly and has a good time outing. It was the whole part of the office being-like-a-family thing the company was into. For the most part, I called boloney when it came to initiatives like that. Work was work, and family was family, but with my group it didn’t feel toxic and, honestly, it was something to do, and we always had fun. So who cared if it ticked a box for the upper management?

“Still, yes.” I rolled my eyes, and he chuckled. “I just have to finish this one file I’m uploading, and I’ll meet you there.”

“I knew you wouldn’t let us down.” He turned to leave then said over his shoulder, “We’re gathering in the lobby.”

So much for meeting them there. I didn’t mind that they were waiting. It was nice that they wanted to, but my computer was being a butt, and I didn’t want them to have to wait.

“And I’ve got plans.” He winked.

I just waved him off, knowing very well that the plans were some song he thought we could all sing together, forgetting that no one in the office could carry a tune in a bucket or could even find the bucket. But we did always go and have a good time. So there was that.

Once my file finally did its thing, I shut the computer down and looked around my office’s four walls. Somehow, at my young age, I had managed to get an office with four walls and a door. Not only that, but it was a job I could leave at five o’clock and not be married to the place. And super bonus: my coworkers were nice. We got along both inside and outside of this place.

Sure, they weren’t shifters, so I couldn’t totally be myself with them, but I had some shifter friends from my apartment building I got together with once in a while for a fur out. Being a deer, I didn’t have that predator nature, and shifting wasn’t something I needed to do as often as others. In a lot of ways, it was more stress than it was worth. Between human hunters and natural predators who thought of me as dinner, staying on two feet on concrete felt like a better idea.

I wasn’t a pack kind of guy. Sure, deer had herds, but that wasn’t part of my history. It had always been just my parents and me. Then I grew up and went to college, leaving it be just me. And not once did I feel like I was missing out because of it.

By the time I got to the lobby, everyone was there and ready to go. I wasn’t surprised I was last. Not with the problem child file from Hades. We made our way across the street and into the already crowded bar.

Not only was it karaoke night, but, from five to six, you could get BOGO drinks, which made it extra popular earlier than most other watering holes nearby. It would thin out as soon as the music started, the BOGO drinkers ready to move on to their next stop, leaving only those of us who were there for the music.

Or, more accurately, the lack of musical talent.

We all went to the big table in the back corner, where our waitress, Sally, was already pouring waters, putting down coasters, and getting ready for us. Unlike some groups that came in, we always treated her like royalty, and in return, she treated us that way back.

Many shifters thought of cities as places where no one ever knew anybody or where it was easy to get “lost” or one can never be themself. But I didn’t see it that way. You just had to find your pockets, and I’d found mine. I lived in an apartment building where everybody knew each other. I had a job where everybody got along. Even at karaoke, people knew who I was. It was not lonely, or like being one of a thousand in a room full of strangers. I liked living in the city, and my beast did, too.

We went around and ordered our drinks and our food, but just as Sally got to me, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I’d normally turned it off by now, but I didn’t remember today, and when I took it out to shut it down, I saw a number I didn’t know, but I recognized the name on the caller ID.

“I gotta go outside and grab this,” I told them, and I went out to answer the family lawyer’s call.

The last time I’d spoken to him, it had been about my parents’ estate. I’d honestly thought that would be the last time I had any contact with him. I wasn’t the having-a-lawyer type of guy. But here he was, calling me during Thursday night happy hour.

Amazing how quickly everything changed with one phone call. I went from going to hang out with my work friends, getting ready to sing a song very poorly and loudly, to discovering a relative I didn’t know existed had left me a cabin in the middle of nowhere.

“That’s fine. I’ll just sell it. It’s not like I’m attached to this. I don’t even remember his name,” I mumbled to myself as I headed back into the bar after a half hour, one I remembered not much from. He said he’d email me the details, and that was good because they had long since left my brain.

It wasn’t even like I knew my uncle. But still, there was a sadness to hearing of his loss and, beyond that, of hearing that my family had an entire human being who was a secret. On top of that, it was too late to ask my parents anything about it. And maybe that was the sadness, being hit once again with the reality that they weren’t there.

“You’re back!” Stan jumped out of his seat. “Just in time. I signed us up to sing ‘Get Low.’”

At least he didn’t pick a ballad.