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The Missing Son 01

Patrick sat on the stool at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed over his chest, which exposed the long scar through the orange and black fur on his right bicep. He wore his best pair of jeans, which he kept for the few days a week he bounced here, but they were still faded.

At least they weren't ripped, like most of his other ones. He had to buy a new pair soon. The gray t-shirt didn't show as much age, but it was snug across his muscular chest. It's what he got for shopping at goodwill.

He watched the line of people walking down the stairs. Men and women of various species, but all definitely blue collar. Don didn't serve beer that cost more than four dollars a bottle, so the finicky drinkers went elsewhere.

He stopped a Rottweiler and asked for his ID. Mildly annoyed the dog handed his driver's license over. Patrick examined it, checking the hologram across the picture, while feeling for the indentations on the back most of the amateur forgers didn't realize were coded and not just wear. This one looked and felt legit, that's all he cared about. He handed it back and waved him in.

A couple more then no one. It would be quiet until the next bus showed up in fifteen minutes. He turned on his seat and looked over the room. Forty tables, half of them occupied. Not as busy as Saturdays usually were, even past midnight.

He followed the three waitresses as they moved through the tables, and he was about to focus back on the door when one of them, a brown hare, glanced his way, worry on her face.

He headed in her direction, locating another waitress, with her tray under her arm. He indicated for her to go keep an eye on the door. She nodded and he focused back on the table. The waitress turned to step away from the table, but someone caught her arm.

The hand had coarse dirty gray fur. Patrick took a step to the side to see who it belonged too, a gorilla. A chimp was seated at the same table. A good dozen empty bottles on the table.

"Is there a problem, Mary?" He asked as he reached her. She didn't have to say anything, he could see the pain on her face, but he'd asked the question more to announce his arrival than to inquire about her.

The gorilla looked over his shoulder at him. "Piss off wanker."

Normally Patrick would start by asking for him to release the waitress, but this time he just grabbed the gorilla's wrist and squeezed. "Now, why don't you let her go so she can serve other customers."

"She can go do that after she's done serving me."

Patrick squeezed harder, and now pain registered on the gorilla's face. "She can't get you another beer if you don't let her go."

"I don't want her to get me another beer. I want her to give me a blowjob."

Okay, that was it. Patrick twisted the wrist and the gorilla screamed in pain, finally letting her go. He felt like grabbing his head and smashing it on the table, but he controlled his temper. Don didn't like it when he hurt customers, and if he broke some of the bottles in the process he'd feel obliged to pay for the damage.

His pay wasn't so big he could afford it.

Mary had retreated to the bar, and Don was looking in their direction. Patrick placed a hand on the back of the gorilla's neck, dug his fingers in the flesh there and he pulled, forcing the gorilla to stand.

He was careful to keep his claws in. He didn't need the trouble with the law this would cause if it escalated to an assault. The gorilla tried to use his free arm to stop Patrick from causing him pain, but he couldn't decide which spot to start with, so his arm was just flaying about.

"I think you've had enough to drink tonight, so I'm going to escort you outside." He fixed his gaze on the chimp. "Are you thinking of causing trouble?"

A quick shake of the head answered him.

"Wise decision. Did you drive here?"

Another shake. "We took the bus."

Patrick started pulling the gorilla toward the stairs. "Then you're in luck, the next one should be here in a few minutes."

Jen, the fox watching the door for him, hid a smile as the gorilla whined at being forced up the stairs. Patrick put his back against the push bar to open the door and someone, an otter, had to quickly step out of their way.

A dozen steps and they were at the bus stop. Patrick sat the gorilla down and let go of him. The ape glared up at him. The tiger smiled back.

"We're outside the bar. Please start something so I have a reason to blow out some steam on a self-entitled asshole like you."

The gorilla continued to glare, but he reached behind him, running a hand across the back of his neck. "If you cut me I'm going to drag your ass in court."

Patrick rolled his eyes. "I didn't cut that precious skin of yours. Unlike you I know what I'm doing. Now don't bother coming back in the bar tonight. I'm just going to have to kick you out again, and I'm not going to be this nice about it if I have to do it a second time. And the next time you come here, you better start by apologizing to Mary for being an asshole."

"Go fuck yourself."

Patrick turned around and the chimp moved aside. "Same does for you. I don't know if you're an asshole, but you're trouble by association." He went inside without waiting for a reply.

Jen finished carding the otter when Patrick reached the bottom of the stairs. "Is he still alive?"

Patrick shrugged. "Did he qualify as a living being when I dragged him out?"

The fox thought about it. "Barely."

"No change then."

She vacated his seat. "It's back to being ogled, having my ass grabbed and waving aside advances."

Patrick frowned. "You know you're supposed to tell me if they get grabby."

"It's okay. They give me bigger tips is I let them touch my ass."

"You shouldn't have to put up with that just to earn a living."

"And you shouldn't be stuck down here barely making one yourself. A nice guy like you should have a decent job and a girlfriend."

Patrick snorted. "No one's going to hire a dropout in this economy. I'm just happy for what I have. It isn't much but me and my mom get by."

"If God was fair He'd give you more."

"God doesn't play favorite."

"He should." She kissed him on the cheek and did the rounds of her tables.

Patrick smiled and sat back down in time for the next crowd of arrivals. A group of construction workers by the look of them. They nodded to him and pulled two tables together.

An hour later they had gone through two pitches of beer.

"Sanders!" Don Yelled, catching Patrick's attention before throwing him a key chain.

"Alright Folks," the panda said, "this is the last call. and you have half an hour to finish it, after that you get kicked out."

Patrick locked the door, so only the push bar could open it. No one was getting in after last call. He waited for the glut at the bar to thin out before taking a seat there and handing the keys back to Don.

The panda placed a tall glass with a red liquid in it. The rim was covered with celery salt. Patrick eyes Don.

"Stop worrying. It's a Virgin Mary. And don't worry about paying for it, it's your birthday."

Patrick took a sip.

"So, how old are you? Twenty-four, twenty-five?"

"Eighteen."

Don looked at him, eyes wide. he put a hand over his heart. "Are you telling me you were underage for all these years you've been bouncing for me?"

"Yep."

"Well, I never. How could you do that to me?"

Patrick smirk. "Considering you provided me with the false driver's license so I could work for you, I don't see how you never noticed it. But now that I'm legal to work here, I guess it means you can start paying me above the table now."

The panda ermed and ahhed. "Well, it isn't like I make that much money. I mean I'm willing to pay you minimum wage, but I wouldn't be able to afford to have your here the three nights a week I need you."

"Don't worry about it. I'm okay with what you're paying me. It isn't like there's that many people out there willing to hire someone like me."

"Well, you're legal now, the least I can do is make this a Bloody Mary."

"Please don't. I've seen enough of what happens when people drink. I'm not going to do it. I don't see how you can stand drinking, considering the kind of people you've seen me throw out."

Don slapped his ample belly. "I have enough mass to soak it all up."

Patrick chuckled and turned around, watching for last minute trouble. A female cheetah ambled to the bar, passing and then leaving his field of view as he focused on a table where he thought the drinkers there, the otter from earlier and a Dalmatian, would start fighting, but they burst out laughing after slapping each other's shoulder so he relaxed back against the bar.

"Tell me, handsome, is there any way I can get you to escort me home?"

He turned to look at her and she moved closer. "Sorry, I need to head home myself after this."

She ran a finger through the fur on his arms, tracing one of his stripes. "You could sleep at my place, I'd let you sleep in."

He smiled. "That's kind, but I need to be up early."

She pouted at him. "How about we exchanged numbers then? You can call me when you're available."

"Sorry, I don't have a phone."

She glared at him. "You could just have said you weren't interested, you know." She left in a huff.

Patrick watched her leave, trying to understand what had just happened.

"You really should get a phone, you know," Don said. "You have to be the last person on earth left who doesn't have one. They aren't that expensive." He pulled out his from his breast pocket and Patrick turned. "This was ten bucks." He showed him the screen with all the apps on it. He swiped it to show him the other pages of icons.

"And how much is your plan?"

"Sixty bucks a month."

Patrick nodded. "Considering how much you're paying me, how little Joey can pay me, and that most of what I make goes to help my mom pay the bills, how am I supposed to afford that?"

"There has to be cheaper plans out there."

"Yes, there is. the cheapest available is forty-five. that's the one my mom has. That all we can afford. We can't even afford to put a second phone on it."

Don looked at him, then his phone. "Fuck man, I wish I could pay you more now."

"Don't worry about it. I've lived my entire life without a phone. To be honest I don't see the good in having one."

"What about when your friends need to reach you?"

"They leave a message on my mom's phone. She leaves it at home. That's the number you have as my number. When I'm there I answer it."

"Still, it's got to be rough."

Patrick shrugged, then went to help a woman trying to stand. the lioness definitely had too much to drink. He escorted her to the bus stop. When he came back he had to help more of the customers to the bus stop.

Finally, the bar was empty. Patrick grabbed his jacket out of the back. "I'll see you tonight Don."

"Yeah, have a good day."

Jen caught him before he could leave and he put thirty bucks in his pocket.

"You know you don't have to give me part of your tip Jen. You don't make that much."

"You earn it. You keep the riffraff in line. and I know you can use it."

"Thanks." He kissed the top of the fox's head. Every night he worked they went through this. the waitresses gave him some of their tips. He could usually make an extra hundred over the weekend this way. It went a long way to making sure he and his mom ate good food.

He stood outside the door for a moment, pulling his jacket tighter against him. He'd forgotten it was March. Inside, so many people in one room making it feel very hot. Don never had to run the heat when the bar was open. Of course, he had to run the AC twice as hard in the summer.

The bus had collected the last of the customers. That was something else he couldn't afford. He walked almost everywhere he went. He looked around carefully before stepping away from the doorway. A few cars on the road, but no pedestrians. Good.

He'd gone two blocks when two guys stepped out from an alley. They stepped in his way. Patrick stopped moving. Great. He'd really hoped he wouldn't have to deal with this tonight. He didn't recognize these two, a mole and a rat, but there was no mistaking the colors they were wearing. Saranto colors.

He took a step back, then heard the distinct sound of a knife being flicked open. Fortunately, it was a few feet behind him. He turned and moved against the wall. A short horse holding the knife. and a canine of some sort a step behind him. This just got better. This wasn't the usual initiation, send a couple of newbie to take down the tiger who humiliated the leader's right-hand man. Tonight, said right hand man was making another one of his other attempt at forcing him in.

He kept his hands at his side, no matter how much he felt like rubbing the scar they'd given him that first time. "You really want to do this again Emilio?" Patrick asked the horse.

Emilio pointed at him with the knife. "You don't get to say no to me and walk away."

"You've been trying for four fucking years. Haven't you figured out by now I want nothing to do with you and your fucking gang?"

"Oh, this isn't about persaud... persode... getting you to join, stripes. It would have looked great if you'd joined us, especially after refusing for so long, you got will, the boss respects that, but he's decided you're becoming an embarrassment for us. So now he just wants you dead."

The canine startled. "Milio? Rob didn't..."

"Shut up." the horse snapped.

Patrick gritted his teeth. Happy fucking birthday to me. He glanced up. God, I really don't need this. There was no way he could win against the four of them. The rat and the mole looked young, so they were probably newbies, but Emilio was strong and he knew how to fight. The canine also had a lot of muscles on him.

Patrick took a deep breath, made fists and stepped forward. "Fine. Let's do this. Come on Emilio. You and me, one last time."

The horse snorted. "You think you can goad me into being stupid?" He motioned at the mole and the rat. "You two soften him up."

The newbies didn't even hesitate. They ran at the tiger, hands open. Of course, if they were going to kill him they weren't going to worry about using their claws. Patrick surprised them by sprinting in their directions. Their moment of hesitation cost them their chance. The tiger punched the rat across the face as hard as he could then kicked the mole in the balls.

He kept running. He didn't look behind him as he heard Emilio scream after him. calling him names in English and Spanish. Patrick didn't give a damn about being branded a coward. He wasn't suicidal.

He didn't know if they chased him for a while, but he did know they couldn't keep up with him. They made a hobby of making his life miserable, so he made it his job to keep in shape and have a lot of endurance.

He ran for ten minutes, then slowed to a jog, but he didn't stop until he was a few blocks from home. He knew how the Sarantos thought. They wouldn't count on Emilio to kill him. He'd escaped him too often. They had someone waiting for him.

He walked the remaining blocks slowly, looking in every driveway he crossed, in the shadowed sides of each houses. He normally had decent night vision, but the street lights weren't helping him in this case, making the shadows deeper. If they got the drop on him, he was dead. The one advantage he had, that he hoped he had, was that the Sarantos had never gone for the sneak attack before.

That didn't mean he was going to be careless. And it was why he saw the shadow detach itself from the side of the building, three houses away from his.

She came at him silently, head down, horns forward. Patrick barely moved out of the way in time. He heard his jacket rip. At least he had a few seconds while the momentum took her away. he could prepare himself for her.

Nope.

He caught motion out of the corner of his eye. he dropped and a clawed hand flew through where his neck had been. he kicked out at her knee.

The wolf howled in pain and fell to her good knee. Patrick stood and kicked at her. She rolled back with a growl, stood on her good leg and readied herself for him. He took a step toward her and someone hit him in the side hard enough to send him flying.

He saw massive arms before he hit the ground, rolled and came to a stop. he looked up. How the Hell (sorry) had an elephant snuck up on him?

His side really hurt. He was lucky those didn't have claws, she could have opened him up.

He forced himself up, wincing. The wolf was hanging back, which was lucky for him, but the antelope was coming back. There was no way he could take on two of them. He Ignored the pain and ran at the pachyderm. She smacked a large fist in her hand and smiled at him.

She swung, and he dropped low, but he didn't stop. He turned at the last minute and planted his elbow in her chest. He didn't know much about female anatomy, but he really hoped a woman's breasts were as sensitive as a man's balls. His ribs didn't like that move.

She backed up, clutching her chest. He grabbed her trunk before she could get too far, pulled her toward him, and down, getting her off balance. As she fell forward he raised his knee. Her face collided with it, there was a loud crunch, pain lanced up his leg.

She hit the ground and didn't move.

He put some weight on his leg and winced.

He cursed and limped back from the wolf, only to get within reach of the antelope. He didn't move in time, she punched him across the head. He spun away, put weight on his hurt leg and dropped to the ground screaming in pain as he rolled. He kept himself rolling, he had to get away from them.

He wished someone would come out to help, but that wasn't going to happen. People knew better than to get involved in the Saranto's affairs.

He rolled off the sidewalk and onto grass, having to stop when he hit a tree and his side made him scream again. He forced himself on his back. The antelope was striding toward him. he couldn't take his eyes off her. Fuck he was so fucking dead. He groped on the ground for something, anything, he needed a weapon if he had any prayer of surviving this.

His hand closed around a wheel, six, seven inches in diameter? He searched around if and his hand closed around a metal tube. A cart? a tricycle? he didn't know on whose front yard he was, but a few of them had toddlers. God, please let this be a tricycle and not something too heavy for me to use.

She came to him, hands open, at her side. She wasn't going to punch him. He watched her hips. she wasn't tensing them. she wasn't going to kick him either. She reached down with both hand to grab him.

With a scream he swung what he was holding at her head. For a moment he thought it wouldn't move. Then it arced across the air and smashed in the side of her head. The object pulled him on his side as it continued its arc and hit the ground. She fell down a moment later.

Patrick looked at what he was holding. A pink tricycle. He didn't let go of it as he used the tree to stand. The wolf was looking at him, muzzle open in astonishment.

Patrick pushed himself away from the tree and took a step toward her. She backed up.

"Now. I'm going home to clean up and eat. You want to try and stop me, and I'm going to put you down just like your friends." He used the tricycle to point at the elephant and the antelope. "I really don't want to do that. I'm fed up with you and your gang, and I am NOT going to be pushed around. Are you getting me?"

She nodded.

He threw the tricycle down and she startled. Patrick limped home, never taking his eyes of her. She didn't stop watching him either.

He got in and relocked the door before leaning back against it. Fuck that had been close. He put his jacket in the closet, shaking his head at the tear on the side. At least it was old enough his mom wouldn't know this was recent. He'd see about mending it when he wasn't in so much pain.

He went to the kitchen to clean up, since that was closer than the bathroom. He looked in the living room, in the off chance his mother had fallen asleep there. It didn't happen often, but if she was particularly tired after work she'd sit down among her religious icons for a rest and fall asleep there.

Not tonight.

There was a note on written on the white board stuck to the fridge. 'Your dinner is in the oven. If you have the time see about doing some laundry tomorrow.'

He wiped it and wrote. 'Thanks for dinner, it was really good. I'm working at the scrap yard tomorrow. I'll only have time to do one load before I leave. I'll try to do another one between that and going to the bar. I've put thirty dollars in your checkbook for grocery. Have a good day at work.'

His mom worked two full time jobs. she worked at a mattress factory, sewing the fabric going over the springs, and she had a waitressing job. Even with them, and what he brought in they were barely breaking even. He looked at his message as he realized it was Sunday. He wouldn't have time to do the second load. He wouldn't be coming home. He'd go from the scrap yard, to the church for the seven-pm service and then to the bar. He rewrote the message to indicate that.

He washed up in the sink, feeling around the inside of his muzzle with his tongue. It was a miracle he hadn't lost any teeth with that punch. Once the blood on his face was cleaned off he took out his plate from the oven and ate. It was cold but he didn't feel like reheating it.

He washed and dried his plate, put it away and limped to his room. Across the hall from his mother. He quietly closed the door behind him, went to his bed and let himself fall onto it. He immediately regretted it as his ribs complained.

Fuck, he wasn't going to be of any use at the yard. Maybe he should call Joey to let him know he couldn't make it.

He fell asleep before he'd reached a decision.