The phone's were ringing off the hook as usual on a Friday night. Glen was getting louder and louder as he took a pizza order and made change for the big bills Summer had gotten on her last two deliveries.

"What's wrong?' she mouthed to him silently. Glen was the manager least likely to lose his cool with a customer.

He put the caller on hold. "This guy want us to deliver forty bucks worth of pizza to the Eastside Bridge. No address, jut the bridge. He's called in on a cell phone. He says he's done it before...." Glen sounded flustered.

Summer smiled, "Is his name something Whitehall?" she asked.

"Uh, yeah, has he done it before?" Glen asked.

"Yeah, he's a vagrant with a cellphone. Who knows where he gets money. He tips good, take his order and I'll take the rubn." Summer told her boss.

"And if he no shows?" Glen asked sternly.

"I'll be buying some pizza I guess. I've done this like six times for him though." she said.

Glen nodded and took the order. Summer washed her hands and went into the back to help make pizzas for a while. When her order made it to the other end of the oven belt to get cut, she cut and boxed it.

Then she was off to the Eastside bridge with five pizzas all the way. It wasn't a long drive. When she reached the bridge she turned her car off and got out with the order.

The bridge was eerily quiet when she made her way onto it to yell over the side. The transient in question usually waited for his pizza down on the lower scafolding with a fishing pole. "Hello? Mr. Whitehall, I've got your pizzas." she called out loudly over the side. It echoed, but there was no other answer in the still night air.

Summer took a deep breath and plumes of her sigh rose into the cold air. She clutched the warm bag of pizza closer. Where was this guy already? She wondered.

I'm sure he's there....

But I'm just as sure there's something else there as well. Waiting. Eyes glinting yellow-green in the light from the streets, hiding in the shadows of the bridge.

That smelled...

interesting.

Summer gave an exasperated huff and then called out again, "Mr. Whitehall, come on, don't stick me with five pizza pies with anchovies, dude." she called over the side.

This time she heard clambering grating sounds as the old hobo climbed up the scafolding. He grinned at her in his gap toothed way and said. "Hey, you forgot my two liter." He was still getting out money.

Summer started pulling the pizza out of the hot bag. "It's in the car. Let me go ahead and give you the pizza's then I'll grabit for you, okay?" she said. He nodded and paid her.

She passed him the pizzas and counted out his change. She still had a hefty tip. Now to get the two liter. She made her way back to the car carrying the now limp pizza bag which still had tendrils of hot, pizza smelling, steam curling off of it an into the night air. Anchovies, yuck!

Beth agrees with that assessment.

It's the human who smells interesting.

And...

ah yes.

Tasty.

Summer dropped the pizza bag in the seat and leaned over to get the two liter. Then she made her way back to the man waiting for it.

Her business with him concluded she stood for a minute and watched him clamber back below onto the bridge's scafolding. She wondered how he did it carrying pizzas and pop. She shrugged and turned walking back towards her car empty handed now.

Time to move.

Beth, by this time, was hiding under the car - and once Summer was within range, the skinny wolf would pounce, bringing her prey to the ground, tearing at it... oh yes...

growl. Yellow eyes in the dark, shining where no eyes should be.

Had she heard something? Summer wasn't sure a few feet from the driver's side door she paused to look back at the bridge. Had the old bum called after her? She saw no sign of him. She heard nothing now either. She had no reason to look under her car. She chalked the noise off as soem distand blaring of base music on another road.

She took the last few steps to the car and put her hand on her door handle......