Werewolves of Manhattan Box Set

Chapter 2-2

“Meg, I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but I don’t know your last name.”

“My surname is Blanchet, but before that I was plain Meg O’Connor, so Meg is fine.”

“I wanted to tell you Meg, that your breakfast looks wonderful, but I don’t know if I can eat it all.” Sean said looking at the sheer amount of food on the table.

“You need some good red meat, so oblige me by starting with the steak. The doctor said you need to build up your strength.”

“Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?” Armand poured himself another cup of French roast.

“Not at all, there isn’t really much to tell…”

“Where are you from?”

“A small borough on the Bayshore of New Jersey, Keansburg. My father is a police officer, my mother deceased. Although I just found out in August that the man I thought to be my father, wasn’t my dad. It seems my mom was pregnant prior to their marriage. She died of breast cancer as did her sister, Nellie. She never told me that I wasn’t Tom Quinn’s son or who my real father was.”

Pierre came into the room. “Sir…”

“That must be Detective Murphy. We will continue our conversation after he fills out his paperwork.”

Pierre escorted the detective into the room.

“Would you like some coffee, detective?” Meg bustled and put a cup and the carafe in front of him.

“Sir.” The detective bowed his head to Armand. Armand waved to indicate that the detective should sit down.

“You must be Sean Quinn, I have your backpack. Is that your full name?” the detective started.

“My full name is Sean Lucien Quinn.”

“Oh, was your mother French?” Armand asked.

“No, she was Irish, her maiden name was O’Shea. I always wondered why she gave me such a French middle name. She was Irish on both sides of the family. The man who raised me was also Irish.”

“What did you see last night?” Detective Murphy took out his notebook.

Sean blushed in shame. “I need to explain. I couldn’t pay for school or my apartment because my father cut me off from a legacy from my aunt. The art gallery in SoHo, where I worked, closed and I lost my job. Uh…Leroy said he would show me how to make some money by…”

Armand interrupted. “You don’t have to continue, just tell him about the murder.”

“Leroy said he would look out for me.” Sean face turned bright red with embarrassment.

“Leroy would be the deceased?” Murphy wrote on his pad.

“Yes, sir. We were almost at the pier. He saw this man he called the Russian in front of us. Leroy told me to run and hide in the alley; that I couldn’t handle him.”

“Handle him?”

“You know…”

“Murphy, you’re out of your purview.” Armand growled.

“Excuse me, Mr. La Marche. I’m sorry for prying in what is clearly not my business.”

“You may continue.” Armand gave a second warning growl.

“You hid behind the Dumpster?” The detective looked a bit frightened.

“Yes, I covered myself in garbage.” Sean looked at Armand and he nodded his head encouraging him to continue. “I watched as this Russian pulled a knife and stuck it into Leo’s stomach and pulled it upwards toward the top of his chest. It took a great deal of strength to do that.” Sean grimaced.

“What happened next?” The detective scribbled.

“He must have seen my head over the Dumpster because I stood when I heard Leroy scream. He came after me with the knife. He slipped on some lettuce and I was able to get away. He ran along the docks and I hid again. He stopped as if to sniff the air. He came after me again but I got away and he then stole into an open doorway and I had no choice but to run to get help. His knife cut my head and side. It bled a lot, but it seems to be okay today.”

“Can you tell me anything else?”

“I took off and ended up on West Street running over to the first car I saw. It was Mr. La Marche’s vehicle.”

“Can you identify this Russian?”

“Yes, I have excellent night vision and he turned toward where I was hiding as soon as he finished with Leroy and again when he used the door in the alley.” Sean’s voice quivered. “He hurt Leroy for no reason. He saw the way I went, he could have come after me without involving Leroy.” Sean’s eyes filled up.

“I think that’s enough for today, detective,” Armand said abruptly.

“Your pardon, sir. Do you think Sean will be able to come down to the stationhouse to identify this Russian from a mug shot?”

“Wait a minute, Detective Murphy. I can draw him. Mr. La Marche, do you mind? I’ll get my charcoal pencil and sketchpad from my backpack.” He sat down at the table and quickly sketched a picture of the Russian from memory. “This is him.”

“That’s Dimitri Petrovich, a name both of us know well, Alpha.”

Armand shot the detective a look and Murphy blushed in consternation.

“Can you take it from here? Sean looks a bit tired and I’d rather not have him upset.”

“Eh, yes sir.”

“Pierre you can show the detective out. Sean and I will be in my study. I believe you have some errands to run.”

“Yes, Alpha.” Pierre left the breakfast room.

“Have you finished your breakfast?”

“Oh yes, Mr. La Marche. I’m completely stuffed.”

“Then we shall retire to my study.”

* * * *

Sean followed Armand up the stairs. The study was done in blue and brown with a huge library table that served as a desk which was flanked by two brown leather chairs. A small couch faced toward the fireplace. “Sit with me.” Armand motioned to the sofa. The logs were set and a box of fireplace matches sat on the mantel. “Let’s take the chill out of the room.” Armand took some kindling from the woodbin and started a fire. Sean sat nervously on the far side of the sofa while Armand worked to start the flame.

“I’m afraid I can’t repay you for your kindness, Mr. La Marche. At the moment I have nothing.”

“I’m not looking for p*****t, far from it.” Armand stepped closer to where Sean sat and a fission of absolute calm descended upon him the closer Armand came. “Come, baby and sit here, closer to me.”

Why is he calling me baby? Now that I think of it, he called me that last evening too.

Sean moved down on the sofa and Armand pulled him into a heated kiss. Sean jumped back.

“Do you feel the attraction between us? The air sizzles with it.” Armand lifted Sean onto his lap. Sean began to fidget.

“I must. I don’t know what came over me in the shower. I’m not easy, despite what I was about to do last night. I was so hungry and cold…” Sean hid his face in his hands shaking and trying not to cry.

“Take it easy, baby. I know what happened. Your stepfather should be shot for what he did to you.” Sean tried to regain control of himself as Armand mouthed soothing words and stroked his back.

“Why don’t you tell me about yourself?” Armand asked Sean.

“I’m not very interesting. I studied to be a potter at NYU Institute of Fine Arts and had one semester to go to finish my master’s degree in Fine Arts with a specialty in studio ceramics.” Sean started to sit up straight making a deliberate move off Armand’s lap to sit next to him on the couch. Armand casually draped an arm around his shoulders. Sean sunk lower into the cushions to avoid his arm. He couldn’t trust himself around this man.

“I wanted to study Native American pottery designs. I hoped to stylize their patterns and use a modern glaze to make unique pottery. I had no grand design. I only wanted to be able to work at the craft I love. Someday I hoped to open a shop.” Sean sighed.

“How did you plan to fund it?”

“My Aunt Nellie left me a legacy. I’d been very frugal with the money. I thought that I had enough to make a start. Maybe apprentice myself to a master potter, learn and with the money I earned, plus Nellie’s, open a studio.”

“Your stepfather denied you access to your funds?” Armand guessed as he pulled Sean closer. Unconsciously, Sean leaned on Armand’s shoulder.

“After I told him I way gay, he told me that he had power of attorney over the trust and he would spend what was left before I could even find a lawyer. Mr. La Marche, I don’t know any lawyers and even if I did, any lawyer in Keansburg would know my father. And they don’t much like gay people in Keansburg.” Sean moved sideways a bit trying to get further away from Armand. Armand just pulled him in closer. It felt like a chess game and he was the pawn.

“Armand…”

“Sir?” Sean looked at him perplexed.

“Armand, not Mr. La Marche.” Armand began to absently stroke Sean’s hair.

“I didn’t know how to begin to get the money back. I came back to New York to find that I lost my job because the gallery closed. I applied all over SoHo and all of the galleries were cutting back on help. Even the fast food chains weren’t hiring.”

“Hard times for the art world as well as the rest of the country, baby.”

“My roommates were new, last year I shared the apartment with my best friend Tony and Tony’s girlfriend, now wife, Nina. They went up to Boston where Tony is a teaching assistant at Boston University so I had to room with someone new.”

Armand’s hand stroked up and down Sean’s arm. Sean felt comforted, as if Armand really cared about all that happened to him in the last few months.

“I started to apply anywhere to get a job to pay my portion of the rent. They only gave me two weeks and then they changed the name on the lease. I was homeless. It’s even harder to find work when you have no address. I stayed in friends’ dorm rooms for a night or two and then couch surfed for a week with a buddy, but his roommate complained and I had nowhere to go again.”

“Where was your apartment?” Armand asked.

“At 216 West 16th, between 7th and 8th Avenue, the front apartment on the second floor; it was barely inside Chelsea.”

“Not far from here.” Armand stroked Sean’s arm.

“Older, but a nice apartment, rent stabilized, but I couldn’t pay my share of the rent so I was out on my ear. What little money I had left I spent four days ago on a hamburger. I’d run out of options. I didn’t want to pawn my computer because all of my design work for my master’s degree was on it, but I did. But it didn’t get me enough for a bus ticket to Boston.”

“Yes, you mentioned your friend and his wife. Do they know what happened?”

“I didn’t have a working cell phone to call them.”

“You could stay here with me. I have more money than I know what to do with and I’d be very happy to help you. This electricity between us, I’d like to explore it.” Sean blushed.

“I couldn’t impose on you like that, Armand.” Armand smothered a growl.

“I could pay your tuition and give you a place to stay. Right now, Murphy wants to put you into Witness Protection. I can offer you a better alternative.”

“What’s the catch?” Sean asked, moving away from Armand to the other side of the couch.

“I said I was attracted to you and we seem to be sexually compatible. I know some things about your heritage that you don’t know. I’d be able to help you with them. I want the opportunity to court you properly.”

“Court me?”

“Yes, I want you to marry me.” Sean stood up, about to run for the door.

“Wait a minute and let me explain. I haven’t tried to harm you in any way. You are safe here no matter what happens in the next hour. Pierre and Meg are within shouting range…Give me a bit of time to explain before you bolt.”

Sean edged back into the room and sat down on the arm of the closer of the two leather chairs. “I admit I’ve felt very safe here for the first time in a long time but it’s rather disconcerting to find myself with this attachment to you. I don’t know what I feel and that frightens me.”

“I have a story to tell you, baby. Give me some time, sit and listen…”