Werewolf Chronicles Read online

  By the time she hadn't had a real gig in some five months, even Phyllis could tell why. Some directors wanted "angry," but they didn't want bitches, either. Phyllis needed time off whether she could afford a trip or not, so now where to? New York was out of the question. She had had almost no verbal and/or written contact with her parents, so home would never be home again. Besides, New York wasn't her idea of a very relaxing place. The point was to get away from the chaos of the city for a while.

  She knew of no friends offhand who didn't live in a big city. Her family was a lost cause, too, except… yes, one of her sisters was supposedly in the suburbs in Massachusetts (or was it Maryland?). But she had a bunch of kids, meaning little relaxation. After some thought, Phyllis gave up and flipped on one of the daytime talk shows.

  She felt her will being sucked away by the Women Who Love Their Kids Too Much, when a possibility came to her. She hadn't written him in a long time, but she had an uncle named Bill who lived in Wyoming (or was it Wisconsin?). Phyllis flipped off Geraldo and dug through her old letters.

  It took her an hour to sort through the mess, but she found her batch of letters from Bill and remembered that he had once given her his phone number. She hadn't seen him in six years, when he married his second wife Joanie. That was the last time she had really seen anyone in her family, for that matter.

  Another half an hour gave her the courage to call him up, and Joanie answered. After some reintroductions, Joanie did indeed remember her step-niece, and was quite happy to hear from her. Phyllis fumbled through some excuses for not having written, then dropped her bomb: Could she and Uncle Bill maybe sort of put up with her visiting them for a week or two?

  "I mean, I know you guys have like a ranch or something, so I'll even do chores if you want," Phyllis said. "I just… I need to get away for a few weeks. I mean, just two at most. I wouldn't stay longer, I swear."

  "Now you don't worry about that," Joanie said in her acquired drawl. "We'd be glad to have you. It's been so long, hasn't it?"

  "Since the wedding, I think," Phyllis said. "Your wedding."

  "Has it really been that long? Well, you just come and see us, then. We've got plenty of room."

  "Are you sure? I mean, I don't want to be like some sponging relative. Uncle Bill won't mind?"

  "Oh, I'll tell him you called today," Joanie said, "but he'll be just as pleased to see you as I will. Let me take your number, though, dear. Are you still in Los Angeles?"

  "Yeah," Phyllis said, and read off her number. "I don't have a machine, though, so you'll kind of have to get me when I'm here."

  "Uh-huh," Joanie said. "But listen: I'll tell Bill you called and that you'd like to come up here, and he'll call you back to let you know when you can come. Sound good?"

  "You sure it's okay?"

  "Not unless it's a problem for you."

  "No, God no," Phyllis said. "God, Joanie, you don't know how much I need to… just get away, you know?"

  "I understand, honey," Joanie said. "Oh, this must be costing you a fortune. Next time it'll be on our bill. I promise we'll call you back right away."

  "Thanks, Joanie. Give Uncle Bill a kiss for me."

  "Well, once I've given him my kisses," Joanie said, and they both laughed and finished off their goodbyes.

  Phyllis hung up with a sigh and let her head rest on her arms. A vacation would probably solve no problems, but it might make things easier to take once she got back, by her thinking. She remembered that Bill lived on a farm (or was it a ranch)? She decided that it would be a good idea to reread those old letters.

  Chapter Four

  Uncle Bill greeted Phyllis at the airport with much love and affection. He was her father's brother, but somehow she had always liked Bill just a bit more. Uncle Bill had two sons, or her cousins, and used to have a horse ranch, but had sold the horses off, except for a few, to take up llama breeding. Phyllis had reread his letters about that; the big "career change" had occurred about the time he married Joanie. According to him, it was possible to make good money on llamas as long as one had some good studs, as he did. Bill preferred to remain in semi-retirement with the llamas, as they were apparently easier to care for than horses. Needless to say, Phyllis had never seen one up close before.

  Neither of the cousins worked at the ranch. Bill had Roger, his hired hand, but apparently Joanie, Roger, and himself were the only people that Bill needed. The cousins had moved off to the big city; one was in Chicago, and the other was in Minneapolis. Bill preferred the slower pace of southern Wisconsin.

  Joanie greeted Phyllis back at the ranch with a hug and comments about "how she'd grown," even though she hadn't. Phyllis had already survived puberty when they'd first met, but she admittedly was in better shape now than before. Joanie began ushering her inside immediately and would not let her take her own bags in. The sun was already setting, and Phyllis could smell the home cooking from where they were. She inhaled deeply and caught some of the other prominent smells of the ranch. She saw the llama herd off in the distance, and almost ran into Joanie while staring at them.

  "Oh!" Joanie said, steadying them both. "Watch it, dear."

  "Sorry," Phyllis said, pointing off at the herd. "Are those them? The llamas?"

  "They sure are," Joanie said.

  "So, um…" Phyllis began, "What exactly do you do with them?"

  "Ohhhh, wool-gathering, mostly," Joanie said with a smile. "A little joke," she added, though Phyllis hadn't caught it. "You can watch us work with them tomorrow," Joanie said. "Or would you like to see some up close right now?"

  "Um… tomorrow, I guess," Phyllis said, glancing at the sunset. Uncle Bill waddled by with her bags.

  "You better get inside to get it while it's hot," he said.

  "Are you sure I can't help?" she asked.

  "You just worry about the dinner Joanie'll be spoiling you with," he said. Phyllis laughed and let Joanie take her by the arm to lead her inside.

  "God, you don't know how great this is gonna be for me," Phyllis said. "Things are real quiet and relaxing around here, right?"

  "Oh, yes," Joanie said, and took her the rest of the way inside. She led Phyllis immediately to the kitchen table, and went to check her oven and various pots and pans. She lifted one of the lids and resumed her stirring.

  "That smells so good," Phyllis said, inhaling deeply. "What is it?"

  "Oh, just soup," Joanie said. "Do you like vegetables?"

  "You mean like in vegetable soup? Yeah, I like that."

  "I used a ham bone for the stock, and cheated with a can of chicken broth," Joanie said. "Got the real thing in there, though," she added, pointing at the oven with her foot.

  "Couldn't I… help you with this or anything?"

  "No, you sit," Joanie insisted. "The plane trip must have been exhausting."

  "Um… no, not really," Phyllis said. Uncle Bill entered from one of the rooms and inhaled deeply himself. He clasped his hands together and smiled, then patted Phyllis on the shoulder in greeting.

  "She won't let me help her," Phyllis said.

  "No one helps her in here," Bill said.

  "That's right," his wife echoed.

  "That's okay," Phyllis said. "Nobody knows how to cook in L.A. We just microwave everything."

  "So do I, when she's not around," Bill said, pointing at Joanie.

  "Get the chicken out, would you?" she asked Bill, who fumbled around for some oven mitts. Joanie kicked at a drawer.

  "In there," she said, and Bill fetched his hot pads. He pulled the chicken from the oven and set it on a cutting board, then took a spoon to the broth. Joanie nudged at him.

  "Ah-ah, that's my job," she said. Bill threw up his hands and looked at Phyllis to smile and wink at her. She smiled back and nodded in comprehension.

  "The woman's place is in the kitchen" was something that neither Phyllis nor her mother had ever believed in. Phyllis's memories of her mother's culinary talents involved a lot of cans and frozen things. Phyllis graduated t
o independence with the same habits. She owned no recipes and probably wouldn't know what to do with one, anyway.

  She watched Joanie bustle about, seemingly tending to four different things at once, and almost immediately felt… at home. Here was a woman whose place would be in the kitchen whether she had been taught that or not, for she clearly loved to cook. She was about ten years younger than Uncle Bill, and kept herself in good condition. In others words, it was unlikely that she tasted her food all day long and never did any other work. Phyllis figured that Joanie helped out at the ranch, but had otherwise become quite content with filling the traditional "female roles."

  Where did Uncle Bill find this woman, anyway? Phyllis wondered to herself. If only Dad had found her first, then she could have been my mom. No, that's terrible. I shouldn't think that way, but I can't help it. God, do I need this vacation.

  Before she knew it, the table was being set, and Joanie was just finishing pouring Phyllis's milk, when Roger came in. He was an average-looking fellow in his thirties, and was also in good condition from the ranch work. He yanked off his gloves and stopped at the table to take in all the food.

  "You haven't met him yet, have you?" Bill asked. "Roger's the third one of us. Roger, Phyllis, my niece."

  Roger smiled and stuck out his hand, which Joanie swatted away.

  "Hey, hey, we've got food out here," she said. "Go wash up first."

  "Sorry, Missus," he said, sufficiently humbled. He nodded at Phyllis instead, who smiled and waved as he slinked off into the bathroom.

  "Nice to meet you, Roger," she said. Joanie finished setting out everyone's food, including Roger's. Phyllis was uncertain whether to start first or let them do it. So far they seemed to be waiting for something.

  The water in the bathroom stopped, and Roger reappeared, rubbing his hands together. He seated himself next to Phyllis and fixed up his napkin, then Uncle Bill and his wife bowed their heads. Phyllis stared at them a moment, then understood as soon as Bill started murmuring grace. She tried not to feel uncomfortable about it, but she had not been to church since the wedding, and of course, never gave thanks at mealtime. Soon enough they all said "Amen," and Phyllis dug in to the meal while trying to remember what denomination they were. She was baptized a Protestant, but remembered that Uncle Bill had changed to something else. Presbyterian? It would come up later.

  Conversation began with Bill talking about a livestock show that was to be coming in about a week and a half. Joanie would be in charge of seeing to the "weanlings." Phyllis asked about those, then learned that they were the freshly weaned llamas. They were to be prepared for selling at the next show. The menfolk were going to be busy with the dam, or female, that someone was bringing in the next day. Eventually Joanie steered the conversation away from business and asked Phyllis "all about Los Angeles." Phyllis shrugged.

  "I guess things aren't too good there," she said. "That's why I'm here, mostly. I just can't seem to get my act together, you know?"

  "Let's see, last time you wrote you were talking about joining the ballet," Uncle Bill said. Phyllis laughed.

  "God, was it that long ago?" she said. "Ummm… I can still appreciate ballet, but I like the modern moves a lot more. Jazz and hip-hop, for instance. It's hard to keep up practice on ballet, too. You have to keep working the muscles it uses or you're screwed. Er… You're in trouble," she added sheepishly.

  "I thought that New York was supposed to be the place for dancers," Roger said. "You know, Broadway and all that."

  "It depends," Phyllis said. "New York's the place for stage work and yes, ballet. I'm trying to make it in TV and videos. And there's… other reasons for not being in New York."

  "Hey, you probably work with Paula Abdul and people like her, don'tcha?" Roger said.

  Phyllis blushed. "Nah, I've never worked on any of her things," she said. "Haven't met her, either."

  "What have you been working on lately?" Joanie asked. "Are there any movies we can see you in?"

  Phyllis laughed and shook her head.

  "I wish," she said. "I haven't had anything for so long, I've—I've lost confidence. That's what it is. You gotta have confidence, or you can't do a damn thing. 'Attitude' is one thing, but that's only part of it. I've just been losing my confidence because it's been so long since I've really had anything. If it weren't for the exercise classes—and, uh, waiting tables—I'd probably be homeless."

  "Ah, can't be that bad, can it?" Uncle Bill said. "Bet you'll get your own musical someday."

  "That'd be nice, except I don't sing," Phyllis explained. "Actually, for someone like me, a 'real' break would be to get picked for a singer's dance troupe. For instance, um, people like Madonna have their own dancers that do all their shows and videos with them. That's our version of a steady job. Hell of a good one, too. Too bad not all of the big-time performers have backup dancers. Usually we have to go for one or two day deals for music videos. The pay is never great, but it's experience and exposure, and that's what you really need. Either that, or an incredibly lucky break, which I've yet to have."

  "You will someday," Bill said.

  "Thanks," Phyllis said, almost blushing. "But right now my problem is that everyone else believes that more than I do. I'm the one who has to believe it."

  "That's for damn sure," Roger said, buttering his bread. "No matter what you do, gotta believe that you can."

  "Right!" Phyllis said, and laughed. "Will you be my agent instead of the one I have now?"

  "Uhhh, well, I'm not much of a city person," Roger said. "Indianapolis was enough for me."

  "Oh, you're from there?"

  "Yeah," he said, taking a bite of bread. "Lived in Illinois a while, then came here to work at a couple of other ranches before coming here."

  "Hired him because he'd worked with llamas just when people were starting to bring 'em in around here," Bill said.

  "I used to work out of Lacrosse," Roger said. "The biggest llama ranch is out there."

  "Ohhh," Phyllis said, nodding her head in genuine interest. "Um… could I see them tomorrow? Or will I be in the way?"

  "No, no, Joanie can show you a few," Bill said. He turned to his wife. "Why don't you show her the weanlings?" he asked her. "They won't give her much trouble."

  "That's what I had in mind," Joanie said.

  "Llamas aren't wild, are they?" Phyllis asked, warily.

  "Well, they're a little bit 'wild,' " Uncle Bill said. "Less skittish than horses, though. That's why I switched. There's more work when we harvest the wool, but at least they're not psychotic like some horses I've run across."

  "You know, honey," Joanie said, touching Phyllis's hand, "I hope you don't think I'm a bother, but—I was wondering if, after a few days, you could show us what sort of dancing you do?"

  "Now, she's not here to put on shows for us," Uncle Bill protested.

  "Oh, no, I don't mind," Phyllis said. "If you like, I can do kind of an 'audition' for you in a few days. You know, like what I'd do for an audition. I wouldn't mind."

  "Well, you better let me watch, too, then," Roger said, wiping his mouth and setting the napkin onto his plate.

  All of them had finished at about the same time. Phyllis had more left over, but it wasn't until then that she realized just how much food she had eaten. This had been so much better than those microwave things, and in some ways, better than restaurant food. For one thing, it was clear that loving care and pride were two very important ingredients in Joanie's recipes.

  Conversation evolved into chit-chat before Roger excused himself and left the table for home. Joanie had trained him long ago to buss his own dishes, which he did, but left them in the sink for her to clean everything at once. Bill left to visit the television, leaving Phyllis to insist on helping Joanie. Joanie made a fuss about refusing at first, then finally relented in mock exasperation.

  "I just don't want to feel like I'm mooching off of you guys," Phyllis said. "I mean it when I say I'll do chores if I have to."

 
; "Well, we'll see, then," Joanie said. "It really isn't necessary, but if you insist… but then, I thought this was your vacation?"

  "Well, it is, and it isn't," Phyllis said. "Sure, I need to relax, but I don't want to turn to mush, either, if you know what I mean. Any work I do here won't be at all like what I do at home."

  "You're probably right," Joanie said, and set to work filling the sink. Phyllis finished clearing off the rest of the table, and partially listened in on Uncle Bill's television shows.

  "Do you guys watch soaps?" she asked Joanie. Joanie chuckled.

  "Oh, no, honey, I don't watch those things," she said.

  "You wondering if you're going to miss your favorite show?"

  "Hunh? Oh! Oh, God, no," Phyllis said. "I hate those things. Except—well, see, my boyfriend just got a job on one, so I kind of had to start watching his show. You know, to see what his character is doing."

  "Do you mean that your boyfriend is an actor on one of those soap operas?" Joanie asked. "Which one?"

  "Um… 'As We Live,' I think. Yeah, that one."

  "Well, how about that! Bill? Bill!" Joanie called to him until he "muted" the television. "Did you hear that?"

  "What?"

  "Well, her boyfriend is one of those soap opera stars! It's—! Which one again?"

  " 'As We Live.' "

  "It's called 'As We Live!' " Joanie went on. "What channel, honey?" she asked Phyllis.

  "ABC," Phyllis said loudly enough for Uncle Bill to hear. "It wouldn't be on right now. But—"

  "Welll, congratulations, kiddo!" Bill called back.

  "No, really, it isn't a big deal," Phyllis said. "He's not one of the 'stars' of the show."

  "Well, I don't know anything about those shows or who's the star and who isn't," Bill said. "But, maybe he'll go on to be a famous movie star. You could be married to the next Kevin Costner."