Authors note: Violence mentioned. But only in a past tense
John was late for work. While he did call his boss to let him know, he still arrived later then he would have liked. Still his boss understood; he knew what the effects of alcohol abuse can have on a person. John’s boss was himself a recovering alcoholic. “I take it your mother had another of her binges, John?”
“Yes Mr. Franklin,” John putting on his white apron and hair net. “She is facing serious charges.” John quickly recounts what Sheriff Cooper told him. Leaving out the part about his father and the tidy fortune waiting for him. “She is being transferred to the county jail in Seattle.”
“Sorry kid,” Franklin states. “But at least now she will finally get the help she needs.” Placing a hand on John’s shoulder for moral support and then walking back to his small office.
John stands there thinking to himself. “Doesn’t sound like she wants any,” he mumbled to himself.
John Shafer’s after school job is working at catering service. While he was originally hire on as a dishwasher, it soon became apparent that he had a knack for cooking and was soon tasked with assisting the head caterer in preparing various Hors d'oeuvres and pastries. Currently he is busy making several hundred profiteroles for an upcoming wedding banquet between recent college graduates. While most professional chefs found making pastries very challenging; John found them simple. Hell, give him ketchup and salt and he’ll give you spaghetti sauce.
It takes him a couple of hours to finish his task. He just finishes cleaning up when his Aunt shows up. John lets Mr. Franklin know he’s done and walks out the back door. Picking up his backpack which has the documents that Sheriff Cooper gave him, together they both walk home together. It was an awkward silence when Aunt Beth finally speaks up, “Long day? I heard there was some excitement at school today.”
John knows she is referring about Julie Stovall. But he doesn’t answer. All he has on his mind is his father. “Sheriff Cooper told me about my father.”
“I know,” Aunt Beth answers. “I got the text.”
“Is what the sheriff said true? Dad was a police officer? Was he killed while assisting in a raid?”
Aunt Beth sighed. ‘So he told John everything,’ Beth thinks to herself. “Yes its true,” she sighs.
“Why didn’t both you and mom not tell me earlier?” John demands.
“It wasn’t my decision, John.” Beth continues, “Your mother said she would tell when she thought you were ready. But that was before she became the state she currently is in.”
“So you decide to keep silent despite, Moms binging.” John growls.
“I realize now I should have told you sooner, John.” Beth stops to look at the full moon. “I just couldn’t find the right moment. Trying to keep you mother sober was nearly a full time job.”
John was silent. He knew mom was always drinking; or finding her next drink. He finally asks, “How did mom get the money for liquor?”
Beth sighs, “she hooked, John.” Beth adds, “You remember the were-rat you caught burglarizing our home?”
John smirks. He remembers him. Caught him in his fursona, trying to steal their television last week. The last thing that rat wanted to deal with was a pissed of seven foot werewolf. “Oh yeah,” John chuckles. “Bit off his tail as he tried to scurry away.”
“He was your mom’s pimp,” Beth adds. “Found out when he came by to where I worked and threaten me. He thought you were my son. Vowed vengeance and what not.”
“When was this?” John asks.
“This afternoon,” Beth answers. “I knew he was all bluster. Smelled the fear on him. So I let him know that if he ever came by to my place again, he would have two angry werewolves on his ass.” Beth smiles, “then I decked him.”
John laughs for a good few minutes. Even his Aunt joins in. But as they reach home all humor and mirth is quickly gone. Looking at the empty house John asks, “Mom said I am the spitting image of dad. And that seeing him in me disgusted her.”
“That’s the liquor talking John,“ Beth responds. “Don’t listen to her.”
“She was sober when I saw her this afternoon Aunt. I looked in her eyes. She meant it.” John quickly continues before Beth can interrupt. “When I ask her about dad’s medals and commendations as well as his personal effects, she told me to ask you.” Looking at his aunt, “So where is it all?”
“It’s all in several boxes stored in the basement,” Beth answers. “Your mother wanted to throw it all out but I wouldn't let her. Told her you had a right to it. So I packed it all up and put it away.” She continues, “Since it was out of sight for her; your mother was content to forget the whole thing. You’re more than welcome to look at it all.”
“I intend to,” John states. John reaches into his backpack just as both entered the house. “Sheriff Cooper also handed me these documents.”
Beth looks at them and gives a low whistle. “It’s a good thing he kept them safe.” Beth reviews, the insurance policy and pension forms. “If your mother got her hands on this, there wouldn’t be anything for you.”
“She would of pissed it all away, is what you’re saying,” John adds.
“Yeah,” Handing the file folder back to John. “Your mother was never good at managing her finances. Now, enough of all this; you hungry?”
John smiles, “yeah. But not for your cooking.”
“Ouch,” Beth smirks. “That job of yours is turning you into a rich snob.”
“Well, thanks to Sheriff Cooper,” John laughs. “I just found out I am one!”
*****
In an alley adjacent to moon lake’s oldest bank, a sketchy looking individual finally regains consciousness. Sporting a fresh shiner and still sore from having his tail bit off. The were-rat is beginning to regret whoring out Cathy Shaffer. ‘First the kid and now the Aunt; the Shaffer’s sure are tough ornery people,’ he thinks to himself. Knowing that Cathy got pinched last night and that she isn’t going to be let out soon; the were-rat wonders if he should try his luck to get money from the family for a third time. Deciding it would be suicide to try and threaten a couple of werewolves, he notices a couple of high school kids leaving the Soda Shoppe from across the street, just as it closes. He pulls out his switchblade and smiles, “Easy pickings.”