(Dis)content (Judgement of the Six #5)

Reporters took to the streets, asking random people what they thought of the day’s revelation. Some were still unaware and showed their shock. Many claimed it was a hoax, as I’d anticipated. That, in turn, led to several very detailed analyses done by “experts” on the live footage of Winifred shifting.

“How detailed can this report be if it was done in just a few hours?” I said under my breath as I listened to the current analyst claiming Winifred’s change to be a hoax.

I wanted to applaud the news anchor when she asked, “If this is a hoax, why then is there a large scale search being done for Blake Torrin, the named Urbat leader?”

They continued their debate for several minutes before the station cut to commercials.

“This is kind of fun,” I said, standing to get myself a glass of water. “Who would have thought mere minutes of air time could turn into hours of speculation? Do you want something to drink?”

“No, thank you.”

I went to the cupboard, grabbed a glass, and filled it at the faucet.

“You haven’t said what you think of everything,” I said, turning off the water. I took a drink as I turned and almost spit water all over Carlos.

I swallowed quickly and scowled at him.

“You’ve got to stomp when you move around. You’re going to kill me with this sneaking.”

“I like surprising you.”

“Really. Why is that?”

“The surge of adrenaline,” he inhaled deeply, “changes your scent.”

“Um, I’m guessing in a good way?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm. Well, you’re just going to have to find a different way to make your sniffer happy because scaring the daylights out of me for the rest of our lives isn’t going to cut it.”

He stole my glass and took a drink before handing it back.

“The rest of our lives. I like the sound of that.”

“Of course you do,” I said, moving away from him. “Because you like how I smell.”

“And move,” he said.

I exaggerated my walk and heard him make a small, pained noise.

“Come on, big guy. Let’s snuggle.”

He made it to the couch before I did.

Barely containing my smile, I curled up against his side and laid my head on his shoulder. We watched the news like that for almost an hour. Most of our faces were displayed, but our poster child remained Winifred.

“What’s everyone else saying about all of this?”

Carlos was quiet a moment before he answered.

“Bethi is freaking out. Grey’s words, not mine. Gabby is quietly watching the Urbat movement, which appears uncoordinated, and Michelle is on the phone with her lawyer, seeing what she can do to help Bethi.”

“Why’s Michelle trying to help Bethi? They didn’t get a good image of her.”

“Bethi’s mom recognized her and called the station. Bethi can’t reach her mom, now.”

My heart went out to Bethi.

“Let’s have them over for dinner. We can order takeout. Pizza.”

Carlos nodded.

A few minutes later, someone knocked on the door.

Carlos had just stood to answer it when it burst inward. A sobbing Bethi flew toward me.

I caught her in my arms and held her tight, pulling away the worst of her emotions until she breathed normally again.

“You can hit me all night long,” Luke said. “Thank you.” His hair stood out in disarray like he’d been running his hands through it in frustration for the last hour.

“No problem,” I said over Bethi’s head. I tried to ease away from her hug. “Hey, what do we want on our pizzas?”

“Valium,” Bethi said. “Lots of it.”

“Michelle has the connections to help find your mum,” Luke said. “Trust her.”

Bethi nodded despondently.

“Could you manage to hug me for a while?” he said, still watching her.

Her lips twitched, and she finally loosened her hold on me. My skin felt tight and my stomach full, as if I’d just eaten.

Carlos and I looked at each other as the other two went to sit at the breakfast bar and find pizza places in the phonebook.

“Want to go for a quick run?” he asked.

“Can we?”

“We don’t have a choice, do we?”

I shook my head.

Bethi looked up from the phonebook as I grabbed my jacket.

“I’m sorry, Isabelle.”

“Nah, don’t be. I’ll get rid of this, then come back for seconds in a bit.”

She gave me a weak smile.

“And I like extra cheese on my pizza. None of that deep dish crap, though. I want the toppings to overpower the dough.” I slipped on my shoes as I spoke.

“Got it,” she said.



Carlos and I ran for a long while. My breath gusted out under the streetlights. We wove our way through the streets, sticking to the nicer neighborhoods. Whenever I found a quiet spot, I pushed out some of the emotion I carried. We kept moving until a bakery’s display window had me slowing.

“Something catch your eye?” Carlos said.

I nodded and pointed, unable to speak normally.

He glanced at the decadent chocolate mousse tuxedo cake decorated with artistic dark and white chocolate shavings and drizzle.

When his gaze returned to me, I felt his love and his need to make me happy.

“All right. Let’s go in.”

“I’ll stay out here. My face was on TV more than yours, and with the bruise, I’m hard to miss.”

“Stay put.”

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