The Werewolf Motorcycle Club
Author
Elle Chipp
Reads
1.7M
Chapters
32
Goodbye NYC
Book 1: Diana & Alaric
DIANA
āI still donāt get why you couldnāt have moved your Aunt Peggy to the city with you,ā Meghan sighs to me over the phone.
Currently, Iām holding my cell phone between my ear and shoulder for dear life while I try to unpack all my clothes in time to get dressed. My first shift at my new job in Engleston starts in less than an hour.
I pause with my tennis shoes in hand and look up to the ceiling for strength before lowering my voice. āSheās got lung cancer, Meghan. Do you honestly think that the fumes of the city would help?ā
I love Meghan; weāve been friends and roommates since day one of culinary school, and I know sheās just upset that Iām leaving her behind. But I donāt have time right now to listen to her complaining about how the room feels empty without me.
Iāve had to uproot my entire life to come here, to this town in the middle of nowhere, to care for my sick aunt. Sheās the last living relative I have left, and Iāll be damned if I let her go through treatment alone.
That means deferring my final year as a culinary student and saying goodbye to Meghan and everything else I know. But Aunt Peggy is worth it.
Thankfully, Peggy managed to secure me a job at the local diner so that I can help keep the roof over our heads while her pension checks go toward her medical bills.
Going from cooking prime rib and duck Ć lāorange to simple burgers isnāt exactly living the dream, but itās better than nothing.
Who knows, maybe having some real-world experience as a line cook will even help my rƩsumƩ when I eventually go back, finish school, and start applying for jobs in the city.
āFine, I know weāve already talked about all the reasons you had to leave. Itās just not the same here without you,ā Meghan complains. I decide to take that as the compliment that it is. At least someone will miss me.
My parents ran a restaurant, so I grew up surrounded by food and love and happy chatter, but a few years ago they were both killed in a brutal robbery, and the restaurant shut down.
Since then, Iāve kept to myself while dragging myself through school. Meghan is one of the only people Iāve let myself get close toāand only because she was persistent enough to stick around and knock down the walls around my heart.
The life insurance payout from my parentsā deaths still sits in my bank account, paying my tuition and gathering some interest for what I hope will be the down payment on my own restaurant someday.
Naturally, I offered to put aside that dream and use the money to pay for Aunt Peggyās medical bills, but she refused.
āThatās your money, for your career,ā she said. āI donāt want you squandering it on an old lady.ā
So instead, I came here to live with her. I can pay her rent by working, she can get the treatment she needs, and maybe once sheās feeling better, I can get back to my life.
Itās worth it. Aunt Peggyās a stubborn old thing, but I love her like crazy, and no time or money I spend on her could ever be squandered.
āThanks, Megs,ā I say into the phone, ābut Iāve got to go. Aunt Peggy needs her medicine, and I need to eat something before my first shift.ā
I hang up and toss my phone down on the bed. Now that Iāve finally moved all the piles of clothes off the bedspread and into the drawers, everything feels more real.
I know why Iām here, but still, I never saw myself as the kind of girl to move to a small town.
āDiana Marie, if you donāt come in here and feed yourself, so help me, I will call you in sick on your first day,ā Aunt Peggy shouts. Youād never think that she was sick from the way she can holler around the house.
Sheās clearly serious, though, from the fact that sheās using my middle name. I scurry to get to the kitchen before she can find the phone. Calling in sick on my first day wouldnāt exactly be a good look, would it?
āI was already coming. Hold your fire.ā I laugh as I walk to the fridge and get out one of the sandwiches that I bought on the drive down here.
My logic was that if Iām going to be cooking all day, I donāt want to make my own breakfast too, at least not while Iām still getting used to the shifts.
It feels strange having Aunt Peggy sitting at the kitchen table, watching to make sure I feed myself; youād think I was thirteen, and not twenty-three, from the way she goes on sometimes.
Iāve missed having someone to look out for me, but itās my job to be there for her, not the other way around.
āHave you taken your medicine?ā I ask her between hasty bites.
She doesnāt reply, looking around the room as if she canāt hear me, and I roll my eyes before making the effort to swallow properly this time.
āMedicineā¦have you had it?ā I repeat.
āOh, you were talking to me?ā She fakes shock. āI hope not, with your lunch still hanging around in your mouthā¦but yes, I have taken it, Diana.
āYou know, Iāve lived alone for thirty years. I think I know how to take some damn medicine.ā She narrows her eyes at me.
āAnd I think I know when to feed myself,ā I throw back, but she simply leaves the table and takes my empty plate with her to wash in the sink.
Youād never know that she was so ill. There are a few tells, though.
The careful way she moves, like her bones hurt. The way her breath quickens even with the slight exertion of walking to the sink. The dark circles under her eyes, which she hasnāt had time yet to cover with makeup.
But sheās still beautifulāshe looks so much like my mom, red hair fading into gray at the roots, falling in waves all the way to her waist.
She wasnāt a good candidate for traditional chemo, and Iām selfishly a little glad. I would mourn that hair if it all fell out.
The doctor told me she should be resting as much as possible, but I know Iāll only be wasting my breath if I try to tell my strong-willed aunt what to do. We have that quality in common.
āOkay, Iām heading off. Be safe, and Iāll see you later.ā I rise to my feet and kiss her on the cheek before leaving.
Iām nervous about my first shift. My stomach keeps doing somersaults, my hands are shaking, and I keep chewing at my lip like I used to do back when I was a child.
Itās almost as if my body knows something my mind doesnāt, but what could possibly be so bad?
Iāve suffered with anxiety like this ever since my parents died. On the drive to the diner, I just keep reminding myself that Iām not in the city anymoreā¦this is a small town, and Iām safe here. Right?
***
By the end of my first shift at Engleston Diner, my feet are so swollen that I wonder how Iām going to pull my clogs off when I get home. Countless sweaty strands of hair are falling down from my bun into my face as I clean up the counter for the night.
Apparently, word got around quickly that this place has hired a new cook because we were filled to the brim with customers all day! I mustāve grilled a hundred burgers in an hour, and Iām sure the smell is ground into my shirt forever.
The other cook who was meant to be helping me during rush hour might as well have stayed home for all the help he offered.
I managed to feed everybody in the end, though, and nobody sent anything back. Iāll call that a win.
Iāve also made it through an entire eight hours behind the stove with no fresh cuts or burns from my efforts, and if I were back in the city, I know Iād have celebrated that with a drink.
The idea of going to a bar alone doesnāt really appeal to me, but I can make do with the wine I saw earlier in Aunt Peggyās fridge.
Aunt Peggy canāt drink anyway because of her medication, and it would be a shame for such a nice rosĆ© to go to waste, right?
When I leave the kitchen, I see a couple of the waitresses still hanging around, counting tips and filling up condiments. Theyāre talking among themselvesāthey always seem to be talking among themselves, from what Iāve seen today.
I know itās rude, but I canāt help listening in.
āIāve never seen him lose control like that,ā says the blonde-ponytailed one on the left, sounding scandalized. I think her nameās Whitney, though I couldnāt say for sure. āItās not like himāheās the president, for crying out loud, heās supposed to have some dignity.ā
Neither of these two has been particularly friendly to me today, and I canāt imagine they would be speaking so frankly if they knew that I was listening.
They had the gall to turn their noses up when I walked in with my clogs on! I bet theyād wear the same if they knew how hazardous a slippery kitchen can get.
Thankfully, Iām not the subject of their disdain anymore; some president or something is, and I find it odd that theyād be hanging around here discussing politics when they can just finish up and go home.
āAlaric has always seemed passionate to me,ā argues the one on the right, her long, dangly earrings rattling as she shakes her head. Iām pretty sure this oneās name is Jasmine. āHe just doesnāt usually show it.ā
I donāt know any presidents called Alaric off the top of my head, but apparently, the guy went nuts. I wonder if Iāll hear about it on the radio when I drive homeā¦not that I particularly care.
All the media I seem to clue into these days are re-runs of Hellās Kitchen or Nigella Lawsonās various Netflix specials. Even when Iām not working, my life still revolves around food, and Iām terrible when it comes to understanding current events.
āMurphy had to ask him to leave and everything. I couldnāt believe it! He looked like he would smash this whole place up!ā Whitney raises her voice, and I realize my mistake as the dots slowly connect.
Murphy is our boss here at Engleston Diner, so they must be talking about something that happened in the dining room today while I was busy in the kitchen. But what would a president be doing here?
What sort of president? A homeownersā president? Is that what these guys call the mayor of Engleston? I donāt have a clue, but if this Alaric guy really is as nuts as they say, Iād like to know more so I can stay well clear.
āHe just kept saying how his mate was here, but like, not in a fake Australian accent or anything. I have no idea what he was talking about,ā Jasmine scoffs. āAnd to think, I used to call him the hot one.ā
I canāt help but snort at this, but rather than ask one of the many questions swarming around my headāand confess my eavesdropping in the processāI duck out and make my way toward my car.
It sounds like Murphy had this guy handled fine today. If some guy having a shouting match is the worst thing that happens around here to warrant all this gossip, well, it looks like I can enjoy the simple life for a while.
