From Dead to Worse

there was no certainty that it had happened like that, but when I thought about it, it had to have been exactly that way or in some manner very close to it. Just to be sure I was remembering correctly, I called Amelia and asked her if she’d told any callers where I was the night before.
    “No,” she said. “I heard from Octavia, who didn’t know you. I got a call from that werepanther boy I met at your brother’s wedding. Believe me, you didn’t come up in that conversation. Alcide called, real upset. Tanya. I told her nothing.”
    “Thanks, roomie,” I said. “You recovering?”
    “Yeah, I’m feeling better, and Octavia left to go back to the family she’s been staying with in Monroe.”
    “Okay, see you when I get back.”
    “You going to make it back in time for work?”
    “Yeah, I have to make it to work.” Since I’d spent that week in Rhodes, I have to be careful to stick to the schedule for a while, otherwise the other waitresses would get up in my face about Sam giving me all the breaks. I hung up. “She told no one,” I said.
    “So you—and Eric—had a leisurely dinner at an expensive restaurant, with another man.”
    I looked at him incredulously. This was so far off the point. I concentrated. I’d never poked a mental probe into such turmoil. Alcide was feeling grief for Maria-Star, guilt because he hadn’t protected her, anger that I’d been drawn into the conflict, and above all, eagerness to knock some skulls. As the cherry on top of all that, Alcide—irrationally—hated that I’d been out with Eric.
    I tried to keep my mouth shut out of respect for his loss; I was no stranger to mixed emotions myself. But I found I’d become abruptly and completely tired of him. “Okay,” I said. “Fight your own battles. I came when you asked me to. I helped you when you asked me to, both at the battle for packleader and today, at expense and emotional grief to myself. Screw you, Alcide. Maybe Furnan is the better Were.” I spun on my heel and caught the look Tray Dawson was giving Alcide while I marched out of the kitchen, down the steps, and into the carport. If there’d been a can, I would’ve kicked it.
    “I’ll take you home,” Tray said, appearing at my side, and I marched over to the side of the truck, grateful that he was giving me the wherewithal to leave. When I’d stormed out, I hadn’t been thinking about what would happen next. It’s the ruin of a good exit when you have to go back and look in the phone book for a cab company.
    I’d believed Alcide truly loathed me after the Debbie debacle. Apparently the loathing was not total.
    “Kind of ironic, isn’t it?” I said after a silent spell. “I almost got shot last night because Patrick Furnan thought that would upset Alcide. Until ten minutes ago, I would have sworn that wasn’t true.”
    Tray looked like he would rather be cutting up onions than dealing with this conversation. After another pause, he said, “Alcide’s acting like a butthead, but he’s got a lot on his plate.”
    “I understand that,” I said, and shut my mouth before I said one more word.
    As it turned out, I was on time to go to work that night. I was so upset while I was changing clothes that I almost split my black pants, I yanked them on so hard. I brushed my hair with such unnecessary vigor that it crackled.
    “Men are incomprehensible assholes,” I said to Amelia.
    “No shit,” she said. “When I was searching for Bob today, I found a female cat in the woods with kittens. And guess what? They were all black-and-white.”
    I really had no idea what to say.
    “So to hell with the promise I made him, right? I’m going to have fun. He can go have sex; I can have sex. And if he vomits on my bedspread again, I’ll get after him with the broom.”
    I was trying not to look directly at Amelia. “I don’t blame you,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. It was nice to be on the verge of laughter instead of wanting to smack someone. I grabbed up my purse, checked my ponytail in the mirror in the hall bathroom, and exited out the back door to drive to Merlotte’s.
    I felt tired before I even walked through the employees’ door, not a good way to start my shift.
    I didn’t see Sam when I stowed my purse in the deep desk drawer we all used. When I came out of the hall that accessed the two public bathrooms, Sam’s office, the storeroom, and the kitchen (though the kitchen door was kept locked from the inside, most of the