The Taste of Home

Chapter 14

A cool breeze greeted Miguel and his coworkers as they walked out of The Iron Cactus. "That's more than enough excitement for one night," Mr. Kaminski said. "That meat's not going to unload itself tomorrow."

"Don't remind me." Ralph popped a kink out of his back with a wince. "I'm going to have enough problems unloading myself out of bed."

"I just hope I can keep my eyes open long enough to get home." Miguel yawned, carefully covering his fangs with his hand. "It's not exactly a short walk." Especially not since his legs were still trembling from the confrontation with David. If it hadn't been for Yolanda, he would have been in for a world of hurt.

"Want to crash at my place?" Alejandro asked. Even in the night's darkness, it was impossible to miss his flushed cheeks. "It's not far from here."

Isabella would already be irritated that he'd stayed out late at all. As long as he let someone know where he was staying, what harm could a few extra hours do, especially if he spent them with Alejandro? "If that's alright with you."

Alejandro led him through a series of streets lit only by flickering streetlights until they reached a brownstone apartment complex boasting a bed of wilting geraniums and a series of cracks that spiderwebbed beside the door. "Hope the elevator's working today," Alejandro muttered as they walked into the lobby.

As a pair of fingerprint-speckled doors groaned open, Miguel silently wished they'd taken the stairs. The metal box they were confined in reeked of cheap cologne, and each floor they ascended made the creaking above them that much more ominous.

At last, the elevator vomited them onto the fourth floor. After trekking down a long expanse of carpet whose original color had long since been buried under a mosaic of stains, they reached Alejandro's apartment.

Much like the outside, the inside was messy, but in a different way. The small dwelling felt cozy, like laying under a heap of hay on a winter evening. A handmade quilt stretched across the back of a thread-worn couch, and a basket full of yarn brightened the coffee table. Even the dirty dishes piled in the sink carried an air of comfort thanks to the ghosts of countless well-made meals lingering in the kitchen.

"Are all human dwellings like this?" Miguel asked. Other than Mr. Miller's home, he only knew what he'd glimpsed through windows and half-forgotten movies.

"Sorry it's such a mess." Alejandro tucked a stray strand of yarn back into the basket. "I'm not used to having anyone visit besides family."

"No need to apologize. This place is lovely!"

"Tell that to my mom. Every time she comes here, I half expect her to start polishing the light bulbs." Alejandro dragged the coffee table across the living room with a grunt. "I'm just going to get the couch ready for you, okay? This'll only take a minute."

He wasn't kidding. From within the couch, a massive bedframe emerged before Miguel could even offer to help. Humans truly were full of surprises.

"Would you mind if I use your phone? I need to make sure Isabella knows I'm okay." Like most chupacabras, Miguel didn't own a cellphone. Since he'd spent most of his life within shouting distance of his packmates, it had never occurred to him that he would ever need one.

While Alejandro went to gather even more bedding, Miguel gently tapped out the Millers' phone number, careful not to crack the screen with his claws.

His call was less than welcome.

"Who in the blazes is this?" Mrs. Miller's sleep-addled voice was as sharp as barbed wire.

"Miguel. Isabella's brother."

An irritated sigh crackled through the phone. "She's been giving everyone hell. Can't say I'm surprised. I swear you lot are more trouble than mosquitos in July." She paused her grumbling to listen to someone talking in the background. "Andrew wants to speak to you. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to take care of my son."

"It's the middle of the night, Miguel." Mr. Miller's gravelly voice was equal parts question and accusation.

"I know. Sorry." Miguel stifled a yawn. "We got a bit carried away celebrating after service, so I'm staying with one of my coworkers tonight."

"Celebrating what?"

"I cooked by myself for the first time."

"Ah." That was the end of his reaction. No snide remarks about how that was hardly a noteworthy event, but no congratulations either. "And you got David upset because...?"

"He wanted to sit at the bar, and I guess I was in his spot."

"Move next time, okay?" Mr. Miller sucked in a breath, no doubt itching for a cigarette as the sound of David vomiting echoed through the phone. "You know Wendy can barely stand your folks as it is."

"Okay." He wasn't wrong. Mrs. Miller had even less patience for chupacabras than she had for anything before her morning coffee, and that was saying something. "Would you mind telling Isabella where I am?"

"Course not." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Nobody laid a hand on you at that bar, did they?"

"They tried to, but I'm alright. They slipped." Mr. Miller didn't need to know why.

Mr. Miller snorted. "Serves them right. Now, go the hell to sleep."

That had gone better than expected. Normally, having to phone the Millers led to a tongue lashing.

Alejandro returned with his arms full of pillows. "I wasn't sure how many you'd want, so I went ahead and grabbed all of them."

"Your guess is as good as mine," Miguel said with a grateful smile, wondering how much he'd overheard. He laid out the pillows into a makeshift nest. It wouldn't be the same as curling up in the hay with his packmates, but it would do. Once he actually felt like sleeping, anyway. "Would you mind if I stay up a bit? I'm not used to dealing with so much excitement."

"No problem." Alejandro grabbed his knitting supplies and took a seat beside him. The needles flicked in and out of his work like a pair of silver claws. "I'm sorry we ended up causing such a stink for you."

"David is a stink. Isabella always says he's so rotten he could make a pig puke."

"With a guy like that around you all the time, it's no wonder she isn't a big fan of people."

"Her loss," Miguel said as he watched Alejandro's needles clicking their way through the yarn. The repetitive motion soothed his frayed nerves like a cool breeze on a hot day. A deep thrum worked its way out of his throat.

The clicking paused as Alejandro glanced at him. "Did you just purr?"

Miguel ducked his head. "Sorry, I didn't mean to distract you."

"It's cute, just like you. I hope I can hear it more often." Alejandro turned his attention back to his knitting, but not before scooting closer to Miguel.

Miguel's thrumming increased in volume until he was half-afraid Alejandro's neighbors might hear it. Cute. Alejandro had called him cute.

Isabella would never approve of this. Yet, alone in this cozy apartment with nothing but Alejandro and the steady clicking of his knitting needles, Miguel did not care.

Curling up in his makeshift nest of pillows, Miguel felt right at home.