Coyote's Creed by Vaughn R. Demont

Author:Vaughn R. Demont [Demont, Vaughn R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: erotic MM, Romance MM
Publisher: Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
Published: 2011-10-10T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

Can’t Stand Them, Can’t Live Without Them

To be honest, I should’ve seen this coming. I mean, they’re our rivals, I tricked one of them recently, and I just literally walked through their front door demanding to speak to their boss.

“I’m certain it will only be a few more minutes, Mr. Crain.” The receptionist, Shiko, smiles genially and returns her attention to her computer. Given it’s nearly six, she’s probably stalling me until the end of her shift.

Damn Foxes.

I’ve been waiting half an hour, and thanks to the stack of magazines, I now know more about the personal lives of celebrities circa 1987 than anyone my age ever should.

I’m tapping my foot, nice and jittery. I probably look like a drug addict or an eight-year-old that really needs to go number one.

God, she’s not even typing, just clicking her mouse, a smug look on her face, but it’s only when looking at the screen. So, to break the monotony, I speak up.

“It’s better to uncover cards than build the foundation. Most of your good cards are probably buried.” Shiko gives me an odd look, and I go on further. “You’re playing Solitaire, right?”

Incredulously, and vaguely insulted, she shakes her head. “Go.”

I get up, so quickly dismissed. I need a plan B to find out that information, and there’s always a good way to stall before Go becomes I’m calling security.

“Is there a bathroom, at least?”

“Yes. There is.” Her eyes don’t leave the screen.

“May I use it, please?”

She shakes her head once. “Employees only.”

I move toward the desk and peek around at the screen, where there are six grids in different windows, all covered in white and black dots.

She looks bored as she clicks from window to window, adding new white dots to each grid. “It’s not polite to look over someone’s shoulder, Mr. Crain. And suggesting moves isn’t clever, it’s irritating.”

I blink. “Is that a game?”

She sighs, exasperated. “Yes. As I told you, I’m playing Go. Now return to your seat.”

“Teachers have tried to get me to do that, you know.” I tilt my head at the screen. “Is it anything like Othello?” Tutoring has a lot of old board games. Her response is a soft growl, and I wince. “Not winning, I take it?”

That earns me a glare.

“Can you at least tell me how much longer it’s going to be?” I check the clock on her computer. It’s getting late now. Mom is definitely wondering where I am by this point. “Is it a hard game?” No response. Damn it. Well, I’m running low on time here. “May I ask you a question then?”

“Is it about when you’ll get to see my boss?”

“No.”

“Is it about my game?”

“No.”

“Is it about whether you can use our bathroom?”

“No.”

“Is it going to be whether you can take me to dinner?”

“Well, you’re hot and all, but I’m kind of in a thing right now. It’s complicated.” She doesn’t come back with another question, so I suppose I’m clear to ask. “Do you know where I can—”

The phone interrupts me, and she immediately answers it, ignoring me.

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