Bearly Hanging On (A Werebear Shifter BBW Romance) (Laid Bear Book 3) (2 page)

The ferry finally bumped and jostled itself into its holding pen at Port Numas. Out of the corner of his eye, he tracked the punk girl clambering back over his suitcase and breathed a sigh of relief as her hips swayed down the aisled. His bear wasn’t as happy to see her go, and that disconnect between his feelings and his bear’s had him jumbled up inside.
 

“Later, Tubbs!” the girl called out as she shoved her way through the crowd gathering in the aisle.
 

Once again, every eye turned on him, as if he was somehow responsible for her. There was something about her, though. His cheeks burned as he gathered his bags and mumbled, “Bogus.”

Chet adjusted the rabbit ear antenna on the portable TV in his room for the umpteenth time, trying to tune in anything besides a local public access station. All he found was more snow, as usual. Mashing the power button off, he paced his room, bored out of his skull. It’d been two whole weeks since he’d watched anything decent. Back home, he always had MTV playing in the background but apparently Port Numas hadn’t caught on to this newfangled invention called ‘cable’.

Regardless, his uncle Max’s house wasn’t actually in Port Numas, so they couldn’t even get basic network channels. They were stuck ten miles into the forest, isolated from town and its human inhabitants. The only people he was allowed to hang out with were other werebears, and not even ones his own age.

“The initiants can’t mingle until after the ceremony, Chet,” Uncle Max reminded him when he complained about his impending death from sheer boredom. “Go play with your cousin.”

His cousin Sandy was fourteen going on eighteen. No self-respecting adult male, such as himself, would be caught dead hanging out with her. Besides, all she wanted to do was talk about The Coreys and tacky teenage trends. Armani and teenagers didn’t go well together.

The bear community on this small Canadian island was different from L.A. back home, they had a private club where they could socialize, but there were no restrictions on fraternizing with humans. That would be impossible, especially considering that so many of his kind were in the film industry. Of course, they kept their true nature secret.

But here it was completely opposite. The human community was aware of the werebears’ existence, but each group was kept completely separate. Aunt Clea admitted that they mixed at the grocery store and the ‘package store’ — it took him a while to riddle out that she meant a liquor store — but other than that, they pretty much stayed away from each other.
 

“They don’t want to socialize with us any more than we want to with them,” Aunt Clea explained on the ride to their place, smoothing her already perfectly smooth blond bob. “After all, who wants to go to dinner at their employer’s house? It would be uncomfortable for everyone.”
 

“
All
of the humans in town are your employees?”

She sniffed a delicate laugh. “Of course not, dear. But we — the Skookum Clan — are the biggest employers on this end of the island. Most of the local loggers and fishermen are paid by one of us. They’re blue collar, we’re…not.”

He understood that hierarchy because it was much the same in California. Unfortunately, it didn’t help his boredom. The Skookum Clan was very small and the handful of
weres
his age were being kept away from each other until their initiation rite in a couple of weeks. Of course Uncle Max wouldn’t tell him when it was going to be — something about keeping him on his toes — so he was left trying to figure out what to do with his time.

“But I’m so
bored
,” he whined, dragging out the last word as long as possible. “Can’t I just go sightsee in town for a bit? I saw this little pizza place that looked pretty fresh—“

Uncle Max cut him off. “I’m afraid not, Chet. That’s a hangout for local kids. It’s not the place for our kind.”

Chet rolled his eyes and skulked back to his room, slamming the door behind him. It wasn’t fair! He was stuck out here in the boonies with no friends, no decent radio stations and no MTV.
 

“This sucks!”
 

A soft knock sounded as his door squeaked open a few inches. Sandy’s bright green eyes peeked around it. “You okay, Chet?”

“This all is just too lame,” he huffed, motioning her in. She might be an annoying kid, but at least she was on his side.

Sandy was petite for a female werebear, standing only five feet or so. Her style was an amusing mix of Madonna and Cyndi Lauper, and was no doubt the pinnacle of fashion up here, though in L.A. she would have been laughed off the street. Two baggy neon t-shirts were layered so when the sleeves were rolled up, the color underneath contrasted with the one on top. Even the tiny rubber bands on her braces were neon. A scrap of black lace tied her hair back enough to show off her gaudy dangling neon earrings. Her legs were clad in bright turquoise fishnet stockings and matching shorts, with little black ankle boots to finish off the look. At least she wasn’t wearing those stupid half-gloves.

“I don’t have any friends here and I can’t make any because everyone my age is being hidden away like we’re lepers or something. On top of that, I’m not allowed to meet any humans. How retarded is that? Back home,
all
my friends are human!”

“I don’t understand why you couldn’t, like, have your initiation down there.”

He shrugged as only a disaffected young man could. “Dad said I had to do it here. It’s a family tradition or some shit. I guess because Skookum is our ‘ancestral clan’, whatever that is. Totally bogus, if you ask me.”

“Yeah. Totally.” Sandy plopped down on the bed and watched him pace. “Your brother was bored, too, when he came up a couple years ago. Sorry it’s, like, a barf-o-rama here. I can’t wait to get out.”

Chet nodded sagely. Two weeks had been excruciating, he couldn’t imagine a lifetime.
 

“How is he anyway? Brad, I mean.”

Chet shrugged again. Perfect Brad was always the family favorite, the golden boy. Chet never held it against him, though. They’d been really close growing up, but after Brad went through his rite of passage, he’d been too busy acting like a grown-up to chill with his little bro. They’d drifted apart over the last couple of years, that much was true, but Brad would always be his big brother.

“He and Janey just had a kid, a little boy. Geez, I thought you would have heard about it. They named him Max, you know.”

“No way! Gag me.” Sandy screwed her face up and stuck out her tongue. Like every teenage girl through the history of time — werebear or otherwise — she was thoroughly embarrassed by anything having to do with her parents.

“So you wanna break out of this prison?” she finally asked. The devious glint in her eye gave Chet hope he might see more than the inside of this big house out in the middle of the forest.

“Uh, duh!”

Sandy nodded and sat up on the bed. “Okay, listen up. Mom and Dad have a thing at the meeting hall tonight. I heard her telling him they needed to get there early to help set up. Even though I’m, like, totally too old for a babysitter, they always hire this lame-o from the clan to watch me. But with you here…my guess is that they’ll ask you to keep an eye on me. That’s what they did when Brad stayed here.”

“Clutch. So after they leave, I sneak out—”

“Correction,” she interrupted, holding up a finger. “
We
sneak out.”

No way was he going to sneak out with his kid cousin tagging along. If anything happened, her parents would shit bricks. “Nuh uh, forget it. I’ll just read a book or something.”
 

“Fine,” she sniffed, scooting off the bed and heading for the door. But before it closed, she popped her frizzy head back into the room. “But loads of bimbettes will be there.”

He eyed her suspiciously. “Where?”

“Paulie’s Pizza. That’s where you wanted to go, right?”

He studied his wily little cousin for a minute. He had to give it to her, there was more to her than he originally thought. “And I suppose you’ll rat me out if I sneak out on my own, won’t you?”

She grinned. “No duh.”

He gnawed on his lower lip, trying to choose the lesser of two evils: Getting in trouble for going into town with Sandy or spending one more agonizing night cooped up in this gloomy house with nothing to do.
 

“Fine,” he sighed, pretending he was doing her a big favor when he was more excited than he’d been in weeks. Even his bear was agitated. “As soon as they’re gone, we’ll bounce.”

Chet shouldn’t have worried about Sandy being a third wheel. As soon as they walked into Paulie’s Pizza, she was mobbed by about a thousand other teenage girls, oohing over her earrings and shoes. They glanced over at him a few times and giggled so hard he thought they might hurt themselves, then ran off to a far corner of the restaurant. Clearly she had no problem disobeying her parents’ mandate to not be friends with humans.

The place was packed. Decorated with movie posters, most of them pretty new, and brightly colored lights, it had a youthful vibe. The carpet had once been a deep red but had been worn to a reddish-brown over the years, and he wasn’t sure if the walls had ever been re-painted. The air was filled with the smell of pepperoni and garlic, a thin layer of cigarette smoke piercing it every now and again from those sitting in the ‘smoking section’, a half-wall partition that did nothing to keep the smoke contained. Several video games lined the wall, beeping and booping and twinkling loudly, and the latest pop hits played on a jukebox. It was utter chaos. In other words, a perfect teenage hang-out.
 

Only a handful of adults dared to eat in, and probably only because they’d driven their kids to the place. Of course, said kids wouldn’t be caught dead anywhere near their parents. Dozens of tables were jammed with kids of all ages, from pre-teen to his age. It wasn’t an L.A. party but the energy was infectious. He felt alive for the first time since stepping off that grungy old ferry.

A table of five girls near the front couldn’t take their eyes off him as he sauntered across the room in a sky blue, oversized, unconstructed blazer. He knew it draped beautifully on him because his mother had paid their tailor a pretty penny for the effect. His cream linen pants swished around his caramel-colored calf-skin loafers — again, no socks — and a single lock of hair strategically fell across his forehead. He looked choice and he knew it.

Some guys were watching him, too, but warily, for the most part. He knew from experience, though, that if he looked hard enough, he’d find at least one dude checking him out — even in a podunk, Footloose-esque town like Port Numas. He always took it as a compliment, even though he was all about the ladies.

Chet sidled up to the counter to order a personal pizza and a Coke when someone at the table of girls called out to him. “You can eat with us, if you want!”
 

Just what he’d been hoping for. Not that he couldn’t afford his own pizza — he could buy the place, if he wanted — but an invite like that was basically a request for a night of boinking. And they all looked ripe for the picking. It’d been far too long and his bear was starting to get antsy. His
bear.
Yeah, that’s the ticket!

“Thanks, ladies. I’m Chet Pearce. New in town.” The girls scooted around to make room for him at their table. As he slouched expertly in his chair, he made a point of looking each girl in the eye when she introduced herself. It was almost comical the way each one practically melted into his dazzling gaze as they went around the table.

“Becky.”
Sigh.

“Tiffany.”
Sigh, gasp!

“
Um, um…Michelle!”
Moan.

“H-H-Heather.”
Gulp, long sigh.

The last girl in the group simply smirked at him, one eyebrow raised
a la
Spock. He smiled back, gazing hard into her pale blue eyes, willing her to introduce herself and swoon as the others had. But she seemed impervious to his natural charm. He rarely had this much trouble bewitching females. It was a challenge he was more than up to.

His bear strained inside him, agitated and excited, and Chet was right there with him. Obviously, she was pretty, with her chin-length blonde hair poofed out in soft waves. It wasn’t as big as the other girls’ hair, and not nearly as coated with AquaNet, but it still looked good. She had a light hand with her make-up, but somehow it worked for her. Not everyone could pull off that natural look.

And then there was her bod. Her body was bangin’. She was kind of short, compared to the girls he usually dated, but she had curves in all the right places. Her slouchy off-the-shoulder sweatshirt couldn’t hide her bodacious rack and her acid-washed mini-skirt, accented with two belts worn low on her luscious hips, showed off a round rump he wanted to sink his teeth into.
 

His bear agreed.

He swallowed hard and gave her his most seductive smile. It never failed him. “And you, pretty lady? What’s your name?”

Her smirk widened into a delighted smile. “Crystal?” Why was she asking him? Being from L.A., he should have been used to Valley Girl talk by now, but it never failed to annoy him when they made answers sound like questions. Whatever, she was his target for the night, so he ignored it.

But she still wasn’t swooning. He was going to have to double-down on the charm. Plucking her hand from the table, he lifted it to her lips, brushing them lightly across her knuckles and holding her gaze the entire time. “
Enchanté
, Mademoiselle Crystal,” he murmured huskily. Every girl at the table nearly fainted.

Almost every girl.
 

The one that mattered the most was laughing. Not giggling in that dopey way girls do, but outright guffawing. At one point she laughed so hard she snorted. The other girls tried shushing her but she just waved a hand at them as she doubled over in hysterics.
 

Humiliated, Chet dropped her hand and scowled at her. “Hey, what’s your damage?” he hissed, hoping no one else in the joint was paying attention. He wasn’t accustomed to being shot down, much less laughed at, and he didn’t like it one tiny bit. His bear, on the other hand, was straining harder than ever.
Down boy! She’s not into us.