Page 2 of Full Moon Frenzy

Trapp lingered only a moment before turning back to return the tray. Keeping busy was also something he’d learned from his mother. Keep your hands full, keep moving, always have a task.

He picked up the coffee run each day he was on house duty, did the grocery shopping, did the cooking, oversaw the pre-school bike rodeo every spring, volunteered to work every community event that required emergency services on premises, and conducted the safety inspections of the businesses around town. It kept him from the house duties he preferred to avoid, like laundry and vehicle maintenance, kept him favorably in the public eye — useful, when his name set him apart all on its own.

His grandfather had spent more than twenty-five years as mayor and then another fifteen behaving as though his retirement was a bureaucratic misunderstanding. His oldest brother, Jackson, occupied the mayoral office now, and the ease of his election suggested that City Hall had been a Hemming family property all along, one they had magnanimously loaned out for a short stint. His father possessed no official title whatsoever, never had, yet somehow Jack Hemming exercised more influence than any elected office had ever provided or likely ever would.

The remaining Hemming sons still in town had distributed themselves strategically throughout the ecosystem of Cambric Creek like a particularly handsome invasive species. His brother Owen sat on the board of commissioners. Grayson had become the face of the fight against the human-run health industry. His own position in the firehouse might not come with as much prestige as the seats his siblings held, but it had something City Hall and the Werewolf Defense League could never provide — inherent likeability.

Trapp was the most visible member of his family by default. Monitoring capacity at the Makers Mart, jovially accepting cups of hot chocolate at high school sporting events as he sat near the ambulance, doing the firehouse grocery shopping at the Food Gryphon. Everyone knew him. Everyone liked him. He was a social creature by nature and had no problem being the Hemming everyone regarded fondly. This was a role he felt born to play.

Go looksmaxx on your own like a big boy. I’m busy workmaxxing

Invite Owen. That seems more like his sort of thing

Try not to get skin cancer on your ass hole, asshole

“Hemming! Are you going back for more?” Magruh shook his empty cup, sucking on the straw for good measure, making it clear that he expected the answer to be yes.

The smile he gave the chief wasn’t the same as the twinkling smile he gave older women and young mothers; was not the same as the genteel grin he reserved for business owners and members of the city council. The corner of his mouth pulled up — cocky, affable, agreeable. Top billing, surrounded by his adoring co-stars.

“Sure thing, Chief.”

Keep busy. Keep moving. Keep smiling. A system that had served him well for years.

As soon as the crowd swallowed him up once more, Trapp pulled out his phone. There were no notifications on the screen, despite the push to his watch.

What the fuck are you going on about?

He tapped out the message quickly, not scrolling up the conversation until he’d already hit send. He had inadvertently sent Grayson a link, not one he even recognized, unintentionally shared. Trapp groaned. He’d been having issues with his phone for the last two weeks since it had gone tumbling to the pavement outside the firehouse. He’d had the cracked screen replaced, but the internal problems persisted.

I didn’t mean to send that, I think it was an ad I was scrolling past

this fucking phone is trash

I don’t have time for a taint tan

That seems more YOUR speed if we’re being honest

He would need to reboot his phone to see what messages he’d missed for the last however many hours. That’s what happened just a few days prior. He was at home, blissfully unaware that he was being texted by his co-workers and called by the chief, attempting to wrangle him back to the firehouse . . . but his phone had never buzzed, the notifications not appearing until much later.

Three bouncing dots stayed his thumb, waiting for Grayson’s response before powering down and restarting.

Sure

Whatever you need to tell yourself, champ

The screen went black as he rolled his eyes again, taking momentary refuge from the throng of townsfolk at the side of one of the tents. Julia was somewhere around. It was odd that he’d not yet passed his girlfriend, but he had no doubt that she’d been pulled into running the school’s raffle table or taking sign-ups for the summer booster events. Trapp ducked his head, kicking at one of the tent poles, trying his best to appear as if her were on official firehouse business as he lurked behind the tent while the cellphone slowly came back to life.

He groaned again once the screen lit up. A line of messages, several from his mother, attempting to press him into service at various other points around the event, the messages from Grayson that had pushed to his watch, one from a co-worker, the group chat between him, his father and two eldest brothers . . . and a single message from Julia, received hours earlier.

Do you think we can talk? Are you going to be around at all today?

He could do her one better. He was available right now.

Sorry, I’m only just seeing this. Phone is still acting up.

Where are you?

There was a bounce in his step as he hastened towards the PTSA tent, clear across the wide park, nowhere near his lemonade duty.