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Episode 5: Ties

The Old Bailey – II

Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled I'm gonna be seeing Lewis again so soon, but today is gonna be the first challenge of a couple over the next two days. Max was working, but he's due back at eight at night so I'm in charge of keeping Lewis and Katherine busy. Or I guess entertained would be more appropriate.

As soon as I hear the now familiar throaty rumble of The Judge's engine, I take a deep breath and straighten out my favourite shirt; the very same I was wearing when I almost got shot. A genuine Koopman long-sleeve button up in my favourite burgundy red.

Not gonna lie, if I died that day, at least I would have looked good doing so.

My (technically) best shirt, a plain white silk number that's a bit more feminine, was hung up for the event proper, alongside a fancy, low collar grey waistcoat (complete with burgundy triangular fold hanky for the breast pocket) and black pants. Maximum neat and tidy tomboy, so I could look respectable but I'm also wearing me on the outside.

With Max's parents heading up the path, I open the door and say, “hey, Lou. Hello, Mrs. Bailey. How're you both doing?"

“'ello, Sweets," the old rat says and we have a quick, friendly hug. “Doin' great, you?" I nod, then he steps aside for his wife.

Katherine's a slim woman, and I know she looks after herself because her job as a wedding planner has her all over the place at all hours, and it shows since she always looks tired. She's a couple of inches shorter than me, very pretty despite being in her mid-forties with dark blue eyes. Her once rich chestnut hair is the biggest change from my memory. It's now almost completely grey, and probably from the stress of her work. She should chill a bit more.

Alright, stop being judgy.

“Hello Candace, it's been too long," Kathy says. As much as I've dropped my judging, she gives me a once over and offers her hand to shake. I smile and take it and I guess at least I know where I'm starting from; somewhere around tolerated. “How is the restaurant business treating you?"

Okay, girl, it's been a while since you traded verbal blows and you're gonna need that shit for dealing with James. Let's see if you've still got it. Disarm, compliment.

“Going really swell, Mrs. Bailey. You look great, by the way." I release her hand and study her top, a delicate, loose weave purple wool blouse. “That really really brings the colour out in your eyes. Very chic. Come in, make yourself at home!"

Kathy blinks and mouths a little 'oh', as if she was expecting me to unload a bunch of swears, like a stereotype of myself.

I'm very familiar that when we last talked, where I was all attitude at a hundred miles per hour through traffic and now I'm going a sensible thirty-five on a country road in politeness. She's got expectational whiplash.

She finally replies, “thank you," with a smile.

Being a self styled old school gentleman, Lewis lets me lead Kathy inside before he closes the door behind him and I bring them into the front room.

“Please, take a seat. Can I get you anything? Water or coffee? I know it's been a long drive, how about a sandwich or something?"

The Bailey's sit on the sofa and I lurk between them and the kitchen door, ready to dash for whatever I can get for them.

Lewis answers, “nothin' for me, Sweets, thanks anyway. Kathy?"

“Actually, if I wouldn't mind a coffee if that would be alright?"

“Sure thing, Mrs. Bailey. How do you take it?"

“Sugar and a little milk, thank you."

I nod and head into the kitchen as I say, “back in a sec," and once in the kitchen, I hurry to get Kathy's coffee set up. Not just to be a good host, but as soon as the coffee machine kicks in, I dart to the doorway, perk one ear up and listen.

I hear Lewis finish say, “...you, she's nothin' like 'ow you remember her. Maybe I'm biased, since I always thought she was a good egg, but now? The girl's all grown up. I'm damn proud of her."

“You weren't kidding," Kathy replies. “I don't see much of that attitude she used to keep pushing. I guess maybe my concerns weren't justified... for now, at least. I just don't know if she will be able to keep herself in check with my family. I'll admit, though, you were right. Sorry for doubting you, hun."

“Ah, forget it, luv," Lewis says and I hear the sound of a kiss, “but I ain't the one you should be apologisin' to though, right?"

“I'll give her the benefit of the doubt. Water under the bridge, as you suggested."

That's a big dopamine hit right there; it's an easy feel-good time around Lewis, but despite still feeling that little bit of frustration that Kathy's been hanging on to her grudge, it's everything I've been hoping for; more buried hatchets, more support.

Most important of all, it's another way to get closer to Max. I know that may sound selfish, but I don't care.

I finish making Kathy's coffee and as soon as I return to the front room, she smiles at me.

“Thank you, Candace," Kathy says as she takes the coffee from me. She sips it as I place a coaster in front of her, which earns me a thankful nod as she places the mug on top and clears her throat. “I know when we last spoke, there was more than a fair amount of animosity between us."

I sit down on the remaining section of the sofa and prepare to own my past, things I used to lash out about no matter where I was or who I was talking about. This time it's my home, it's my chair, my environment, but there's a moment where my breath's caught in my throat. The old, angry pride's still there, in case me losing my temper on occasion didn't make that damn clear. This is the first real test since seeking professional help, and it's a doozy.

Time for a slice of humble pie.

“And I don't blame you, Mrs. Bailey, I-"

“Kathy's fine, sweetheart," she says, all warm and motherly.

Quick as she's been to drop the judgmental stuff, that revelation shocks me to silence; to get so casual with Kathy this quickly. Even Max has a hint of snobbishness about him. He believes in getting quality stuff even if it's a bit pricey, he's not big on being dirty and whatever, and that's always been Kathy's influence. She's also sharp as a tack and has some real bite to her, which I've only seen a couple of times from my boyfriend too; just like that night back in January with the drunken, forced kiss.

With us now this close, I can owe Kathy that; his empathy and ability to just know me like that is a real gift. She had every damn right to be worried about what I might do to her son. Something that I need to make clear I understand now.

I collect myself as she takes another sip of coffee, then continue, “r- right, Kathy it is. Uh, where was I? Oh, right... no, you were totally right to be worried about me before. This past year I've learned a lot about myself, and most of that was because of Max. He's always helped pick me up when I've been down but that night when he was the one who broke through that... I guess the shield I used to keep up. Trying to be the baddest bit- um, girl on the block, y'know? Not let people see me as weak?" Less swearing, Candace' Kathy hates that shit.

Lewis chimes in. “It certainly left an impression and it was somethin' we saw you buildin' up ever since you lost your uncle- uh, your real dad. I understood it, if it makes any difference, Sweets. We respond to loss in different ways."

He takes a deep breath and gives Kathy a warm look, then back at me and finally looks down at his feet and sighs. “I probably told ya before, but I lost my folks to a 'ouse fire when I was eighteen, and at least I was mature enough to have a go at life myself. You lost 'im when you were...what, eleven? That stuff messes with ya, let alone when ya still workin' out who you are."

Kathy interjects, “I understand it was a bad time for you, sweetheart, and I know I might have seemed distant because of how I responded to you sometimes; I've never been one to take aggression well, that's all. Max was always a gentle boy and moments like how James took advantage of him just further convinced me that you might send him down a dark path. I'm sorry if you took it personally; it wasn't a judgement of you, Candace, I just wanted to protect my family."

I can only nod. This is a deeper conversation that I'm really comfortable with, but it's a necessary one, I guess. I can't complain about being frank with Kathy, at least, since it really feels like she's treating me like an adult.

“I totally get it. I wouldn't be in therapy if I thought I was the best me I could be. It's all about that perfect self stuff my therapist, Dr. Ashton, aims for and that's what I'm pushing towards. Both for me and Max. That's why I also understand that if you're one day going to consider me family, this family get-together is super important."

“Thank you, Candace. I'm glad we're going into this together, on the right track. Despite what may have happened between my nephew and Max, I miss my family. I know they're not perfect; they're stubborn and often ambitious to a fault, but I can't let my mother down."

I hate my past self sometimes. The mention of imperfect family makes my heart ache; the way I was difficult to my aunt and uncle when they were trying their best to look after me after my dad died. How I fought them and ignored their help and advice. I still had to make it up to them, and that was an easy bit of common ground to join Kathy over.

“We'll get things patched up, Kathy. I guarantee it!" I offer her a handshake back, and I can't hold back the dopey, toothy grin when she takes my hand.

* * *

The Feelings Left Behind – II

I'm reminded why I've never considered driving. I don't even need to look at Candace; I can feel her violent energy. Apparently the only one, as mom watches the scenery pass by and dad taps his fingers on the steering wheel to music on the radio.

We've been on the road for just under two hours and the poor mouse beside me just isn't built for sitting still for that long. The only way she's ever coped is to vent, and in this day and age, spotty highway internet connection be damned, she's venting online.

She's frantically typing on her phone, allegedly at someone on Squeaker who said something less than kind about women in basketball. If not for the seriousness of today, I'd be egging her on for a few laughs. Instead, I quietly observe each frustrated twitch of her large ears and listen; her occasional grumbling under her breath, punctuated with her tail flowing from the rodere-seating groove in the chair slapping against her leg. She's really taken to the whole Squeaker thing recently, especially since the phone call from dad talking about the family get together. I personally can't stand social media.

Attitude besides, Candace does look both pretty and dapper in her ensemble. I just went for a blue dress shirt, a boring ass dark green tie and black suit pants after a bunch of nagging from her as well. Both ladies in our party were all compliments and dad cracked wise that I looked like I should be manning a desk as a bank clerk, crushing the dreams of a hopeful budding business owner seeking a loan.

It didn't matter; we were well on the way to the Buchanan private estate, well outside any town or city. Social climbers they may be, but my grandparents certainly made good for themselves as owners of a chain of furniture stores and I have to admit, they did the right thing by forcing their kids to make their own way rather than go for the silver spoon approach; even before the whole James incident, mom had to earn her way abroad for her apprenticeship in England, albeit that arrangement was made through my grandma's connections.

I didn't know most of them and that's the way I wanted to keep it. The focus was on making good with Grandma Judith and Grandpa Terrance and dealing with James as little as possible.

We finally come across the turn off the highway and I'm hit with nostalgia. A walled off estate, high pine trees around the lane. It's but otherwise plain; no monogram gate or named sign above it, just a plate with the address on the wall.

I remember visiting this place once when I was maybe five or six years old, when my grandparents first moved in. It isn't a full mansion or anything, more an old farmhouse renovated into a modern home of a similar size; two expansive floors plus basement and attic. Pretty large grounds I remember walking all around the inside along the red brick wall for about half an hour if you include stopping to poke a frog with a stick for a few minutes.

“Just stop at the gate and we'll be buzzed in, hun," mom says.

“Righto. One of these days I swear they're gonna get themselves a butler and security or somethin'. What's the point of a big 'ouse if you're not gonna 'ave a Jeeves?" Dad chuckles as he pulls in to the driveway and up to the huge, black metal and dark stained wood gates. He stops and mom winds down her window, sticks her head out and waves at a security camera. A red light blinks on beside the lens and after a couple of seconds the gate whirs to life as it pulls itself open.

It's a twenty second drive to the estate itself up a grey stone paved, two lane driveway and the building itself is white concrete with creeping vines up the walls that aren't covered in huge, clean windows. Several cars are already here, parked around a central tree in little bays and one just outside a large garage, namely a simple Toyota pickup truck. That, as well as The Judge, seem out of place; the big, red American beast and Japanese workhorse are poor fits to the BMW's and Mercedes' in attendance.

“Yep, still swanky and pretentious. Pro'lly most everyone here's more dollars than brain cells."

Dad's comment is punctuated with a light back-handed slap on the shoulder as mom chides, “I thought you said you were going to behave."

“Aw, give over, luv. I said that once we're there, like out of the motor and in the buildin', right? I'll be good as gold all day, I swear! Lemme just vent a little. Speakin' of, Sweets, you wanna voice anythin' before we stop?"

Candace shrugs. “Nah, I'm good, Lou. Meditation, mindfulness, inner peace and such."

“Inner peace?" I can't resist the urge to verbally poke. “Is that what we're calling shit-flinging on Squeaker these days?"

She huffs and her ears flex back a little. “It's just a modern meditation technique! Electronically aided venting of negativity, that's all."

I can feel mom roll her eyes, even if I can't see them, but we pull into a space on the side of the parking ring (or whatever you'd call it) and all climb out.

Me and Candace sigh and stretch from what to us feels like a long drive and no sooner than we finish, grandpa emerges from the front door.

Despite being in his seventies, he moves at a brisk pace. A human man with a thick set of white hair, dressed in fancy but functional clothes and, curiously, an apron. His place, his rules, but it made me feel overdressed.

“Katherine! I'm so glad you made it," Grandpa says, all smiles on his wrinkled clean shaven face as they embrace. I hear mom say something in a hushed tone into his ear as they do, then grandpa's enthusiasm cools a few shades as he releases her and faces dad.

“Lewis. You look well."

Dad offers a cordial, if half-hearted, “thanks, pa. Good to see ya. Real nice to be here."

The two older men shake hands, then grandpa turns to me and Candace. His smile grows again and it takes some of the tension off.

“Max, my you've grown! And this must be... oh, what was it? Carol?"

If she's offended, she doesn't show it, but I intervene and say, “great to see you, Grandpa. This is Candace, my girlfriend."

Candace offers a nod that borders on a bow and says, “thank you for inviting me, Mr. Buchanan. It's great to meet you."

“Ah, I see. Forgive me, Candace." He shakes my hand, then Candace's in turn. “Ordinarily this would have been a family only affair, but Lewis was quite insistent you were close to engagement so I saw no harm in you attending."

I can feel the murderous intent from Candace as she grimaces for a fraction of a second, ears all swept back and in kill mode and tail swaying. Not at grandpa, thankfully, but she turns with glare that could freeze boiling water at my dad, who's showing a big, dumb smile and a thumbs up. Candace's expression softens, her ears perk up and she titters in a girly way as she locks her arm around mine, looks at grandpa and says, “we're just organising a few things to make sure everything goes smoothly, Mr. Buchanan. We've just moved house, so you know how it is; business before pleasure."

Grandpa chuckles. “Ah, kids these days; used to be you'd get married as soon as the passion struck. I guess modern life is full of all sorts of things that slow progress down, but oh well, I'm sure Max here will make you a true part of the family in good time! Anyway, listen to us heating the air when everyone's already inside where it's truly cosy. Come in! Let's get you introduced to everyone."

With a bunching together, and a classic poke from Candace jabbing my dad in the arm as they get close, we all head inside the estate.

* * *

Having dealt with Shiproof House's clientele for a good five years, as a basic bitch waitress to front-of-house manager, waiting tables for snooty businessmen from junior accountants trying butter up their superiors all the way up to the mayor of our hometown doing her 'pride of the town' PR bullshit, I'm used to the upper-class folks. The second I stepped out Lewis' car, I was in that semi-service mode; professional, friendly, easy going and neater in my tone, but rock fucking solid in where you stand.

I still had to bite my tongue maybe six times after being carted around Max's extended family like a show-and-tell piece. Each would start nice enough, cousins, aunts and uncles, all of an upper class air, spot the fact my delts make my shoulders bigger and broader, wonder if I'm actually a slim dude, hear me speak, get confused and then refuse to say much more.

Fine by me. Fuck'em. The less I have to deal with, the better, though I guess it's positive contact overall. It also feeds both Lewis' narrative that we're pushing for a wedding and besides me wanting to have a few choice words with him later, I'll stick to the old man's plot to keep anyone from thinking I don't belong. I mean I don't belong here, and again we're totally on the same page about one day tying the knot, but Lewis really did kinda ambush us with that one.

The house is something I totally appreciate; it's all a hybrid of classic wood and designs with modern style fabrics and tech. It's certainly giving me ideas about how to decorate our place, especially the full gym in the basement.

We're eventually taken to a big lounge, complete with a bar and classic music playing from speakers mounted one each corner, a pool table and a really pretty view out of a long window overlooking the 'back yard', if you could call it that; it's a huge field with some arranged flower beds and distant trees with the corner of a swimming pool.

Sitting to one side is a perfectly plump older lady with a cute pink cardigan and short grey hair. She's surrounded by some of the people we've already been introduced to, a couple of new faces.

And James. The scheming fucker who I'm sure made Hazel cheat on Max; if you typed in 'human asshole in a suit' into a search engine, he needed top billing. Uncomfortably smooth outside to cover up that jagged interior, full business attire in dark blue, maybe Gucci brand? Off-white shirt beneath with a red and white stripe silk tie. I hate to admit that he looks a bit like Max which honestly means he's not bad looking. Just accepting that makes me wanna puke.

Ultimately all I want to do is ignore him, but he stares at us. I'm perfectly happy to stare back, but I don't like the way his polite smile, persisting from whatever discussion was going on with Mrs. Buchanan, gets sharper as he spots me, then he gives Lewis and Max a look and all but ignores Kathy.

I don't have Max's ability to read people in the way I need here. I'm more a street-smart reactionary, like body flinching and tensing, knowing when someone's about to throw a punch, or if they have a knife in their pocket and such. I'm not familiar enough with this fuck-stain to know what the grin means, but I just give the most basic-ass polite smile back.

James calls out, “there they are! Fashionably late. It's been too long, Aunt Kathy." The family members all turn and look at us as James breaks from the group and goes for a hug with Kathy.

She's slow to react to the gesture, and I don't blame her (personally I'd jam a thumb in his fucking eye), but ultimately she receives it and seems genuine in her familial affection. The way James' eyes flick over between me, Max and Lewis tells me everything I need to know about his intentions; put on a show, start scheming. After a few seconds, James releases Kathy and heads to Max.

“So glad you made it, cousin, uncle and..." he trails off, snaps his fingers and points at me with a well manicured digit. I resist the urge to break his finger. “Candace! Damn, I haven't seen you since high-school! You look well. Got the butch look working nicely."

I open my mouth to reply, but he just carries on.

“We should all catch up, but first you should go talk with grandma. I know my wife's looking forward to meeting you."

“Wait, you married Hazel?" Max says and tenses up with the faintest hair of anger in his voice. Nobody else notices or reacts and I'm not surprised, but I don't know if it's concern with how he still cares for her or jealousy. Shit, that's not a great strand for my brain to start plucking at so I refocus.

“Of course I did," James says and smirks. “Couldn't let a fantastic woman like that slip away, eh? But again, go get caught up with the matriarch of the family and come over to the window seat over there; my darling's just gone to freshen up."

James mercifully fucks off. Specifically, he walks over to the indicated seat as we head to the crowd around Grandma Buchanan.

* * *

“...and Max, you're a far cry from the shy little boy I remember. Come here." Grandma pulls me into a hug. It really is nice to see her. Hell, it's actually nice to be here altogether, and not just for mom's sake either.

I have some genuinely pleasant memories of being here as a kid before the whole James bullshit I can't believe I'm already rattled by the asshole. Whether it's some sort of deep seated fear or hatred alone, but it feels wrong just dealing with him. Like I'm being baited into a bad situation and he's gonna make me, or even our four person group, hated by the Buchanan's at large. Maybe I'm just being paranoid but I just can't shake the feeling.

I release the hug and say, “guess I had to grow up at some point, Grandma."

“I just know you're mature enough to talk things through with Jimmy. He's been so worried about today, in case you still held a grudge. I don't want to see this family continue to hate my sweet Kathy over this nonsense. Please, Max, for me."

I had no proof or genuine way of knowing, but this was everything I'd feared if I was right; James had set this up.

No doubt he had wormed his way into grandma's head on the back of what happened back then. Hardly surprising, considering he's been in contact with the rest of the family all the time while me and dad have been the focus of all the bad shit that did happen, no matter how justified.

The pressure was on the rise again; that oily black of all the worst emotions bubbling up and it made me more anxious by the minute. The pressure that what I did now, in front of people who were no doubt already judging me and dealing with an asshole like James was very clear.

Grandma smiles. The warmth is genuine, even despite how corrupted it all feels. “If you could go and talk with him in private while I catch up with your mother and father, and once everything's peachy again, we can have a nice, long chat about how you've been and you can properly introduce me to this," she looks Candace over, who smiles and waves, then continues “energetic looking young lady. I just want this damnable dark cloud lurking over this family gone before anything else."

“Alright, Grandma. I'll patch things up."

I gulp down the anxiety; no matter what I say or do now, it has to be through James.

The moment I approach the booth, I feel Candace's hand grip my wrist.

“We'll patch things up," she insists. “Let's go chow down, try and relax first, then we'll go."

I could argue. I could say it's family business but she's here with me because she's always been family, so I nod. I feel the warmth of her hand and it helps abate the negativity.

As she suggested, we head to a buffet that's set to one side and eat our fill, even if I'm not exactly hungry with the anxiety. After a little mingling with other family members I hardly know anything about for a while, who I mostly rely on Candace's light banter to springboard off and engage in typical banal chat, we head to the corner booth of the lounge and sit down.

James smiles and clasps his hands together, as if we're in some sort of business meeting, and says, “I hope you both know that all I want from this is a peaceful resolution and a happy, complete family."

I nod as I finish a sandwich. “That makes two of us-"

“Three," Candace cuts in, “and I'm sure Hazel makes four."

James once more studies Candace. It's weird, because it's fairly obvious he's going to use her temperament in some way. With how different my girlfriend is compared to how she was when these two stronger personalities interacted, I know deep down that she has her old, angry and snappy personality on a leash, ready to be set free at a moment's notice.

The only certainty is that this isn't just about resolution. I have to stay on my toes.

My cousin tilts his head and asks her, “You seem cooler headed than you used to be too. Silly of me to assume you were still a belligerent, angsty child after all these years."

Candace doesn't bat an eye, but I catch a glimpse of her tail twitch. “We all have our embarrassing moments, foibles and flaws, y'know? Gotta outgrow them and become something better. Cover up that glass-jaw if you're gonna win a fight and such. Take the slap and keep going."

James doesn't lose the smooth grin. “I suppose that's one way of putting it. Ah, here's the love of my life now!" James waves behind us. I peek around, pausing for a moment as I see Candace is still staring at James, and finish my turn to see Hazel.

All the anxiety and worry is overwhelmed by something more painful. No matter how anyone saw our relationship, I loved the woman approaching us, and I can't help but stare.

A tall, beautiful rat rodere woman with silken, shiny brown fur. Her hair's rolled up and held by chopsticks in a tidy bun, complete with a shimmering red number that wouldn't look out of place in a fashion show. It hugs her figure, from her broad hips that sway with each step of her long, curvy legs. Her tapered waist and her generous bust, complete with a plunging cleavage from the low cut of the dress.

Her warm brown eyes catch on to mine. She's surprised, even though she must have known I would be here. There's this flash of recognition, maybe longing. My heart aches and her steps pause for a moment. If was doing anything besides sitting and staring, I'd freeze just the same

Young love, some said. A passing fling, according to some. Fuck that. It meant so much back then. I helped build her up from a broken home; a father too ready to use the belt, a mother too high to care; a flower born from scorched earth with just a little love and affection and learned to grow again. School only made sense to Hazel when she put up that front, her attractiveness wielded like a weapon, but when she was with me, she was so fucking genuine, timid, unsure and eventually she blossomed.

She showed me I was worth a damn. That my shy, gentle childhood could be worth more than some crybaby who let people walk all over me. That I could bring strength to someone as fragile as her.

I have to stop staring before the aged, shredded warmth turns akin to staring at a merciless sun. I reach for another source of warmth and take Candace's hand in mine. The bonfire at a firework display at my side. The loss of Hazel hurt, but the girl beside me is everything I ever want, need or desire. I was strong for Hazel and helped her, sure, and maybe I learned what it was to be a loving partner in those few years, but us? Me and Candace?

Hazel was my world, but Candace is my universe.

The things I learned from Hazel, I now give to my lover, the woman who's always had me in her heart. The betrayal made me more than I likely could have ever been before. So I grip Candace's hand, the soft and rough patches a flawless canvas of Candace; perfect and imperfect all at once.

And I'm calm once more. Reinforced and headstrong. My heart is a fortress.

Hazel sits beside James, and they share a kiss.

This time, I don't flinch. At last not for any sort of jealousy. Just how false it looks, and that's the thing that makes me angry.

* * *

Words can't describe my relief as I feel Max's hand grip mine. I love him beyond all else, but to really know someone, you need to know them broken as well as at their best. You need to see someone on the inside, soul and body, and for a split second there, I could see through Max. He was a ghost, less than himself for too long. His pain made my own heart ache.

But that was only for a second and it passed. Just as I know him, I know what I mean to him as well. It's a selfish, piece-of-shit sort of thing to abuse, but when you know you can bend someone, that's when you can play a game. A game that the cunt across the table is playing.

Yeah, I'm no sympathetic, empathetic soul like Max. I'm the outgoing, angry fire to his gentle, warm and welcoming lake and that means I know my place here. Max is the good guy, I'm the bad bitch. It's the side of me I've been trying to suppress, but it's time to release it again. Not the raging inferno of my youth, but now focused. A welding torch instead of a house-fire.

A strategic strike. If I'm gonna keep James from getting his way, whatever the fuck it is, Hazel is gonna be the way to do it, even if I seem spiteful. Even if that makes me the bad bitch once more. I won't let James hurt Max like that again.

Sorry, but I'm not sorry.

I pull out my phone as Hazel looks at Max again, and turns away. Almost like she's shy, and it's not what I was expecting.

“Damn, it's been a long time, Hazel. How've you been?"

“Candace," Hazel says with a nod. “I'm okay, I suppose. I hear you're doing well for yourself. Management, was it?"

James sniffs and exhales over and over through his nose. It would be charitable to call it a laugh. “They come in all shapes and sizes these days, don't they? How long have you been in management, anyway, Candy? I've been running a branch of father's business for two years now."

A little shot of fury that I sweep back in check, although my tail slaps against the table leg. I don't want to get distracted, but I have to make it seem like I'm engaged and resist the urge to make him bite the table and slam my elbow into the top of his skull, so I reply, “since February. What was it you do, exactly?"

Max chimes in, matter-of-factly, “his dad runs a couple of Porsche and Mercedes dealerships up and down the east coast."

The asshole smirks, “that's the one. Six in total and I run the Florida branch. Plenty of older folks willing to get the car of their dreams and we have an extremely attractive repurchase strategy should they sadly pass away. I'm sure the restaurant business is just as rewarding, in a less intensive or aggressive sense. Oh, maybe you could host the annual fiscal meet! I'd love to sample the food at, what was it? Shipping House? Kind of a 'gastro-pub' air, to coin a phrase from Uncle Lewis."

I think about inviting him to the restaurant and violating several hygiene codes, but nah, I just smile and clear my throat (not so much lubricating the airway as resisting the urge to throw up). “Shiproof House. And I'm afraid we don't take business bookings. The owner only provides such an event for his personal friends and associates. Sorry to disappoint."

“Oh, well that's a shame. I guess we'll settle for the usual at the Gristalle Hotel for their lobster and steak evening, right honey?"

Hazel rolls her eyes and sighs, then drags a smile on as she turns to James. “Of course, love."

Her eye twitches. Like a squint or something... weird. I don't remember her having that back in school. She glances at me as I study her and she immediately turns to face the main floor of the lounge again, away from James as he sips what looks like a tumbler of whiskey.

Curious. I decide to go to phase two.

* * *

It was painful seeing my ex like this. I can think back to Candace lashing out at her, and I understood why, but I couldn't just hate Hazel. She was half the woman I remembered, as if everything I once helped build up with her was now spent on James; the monument of Hazel's spirit propping up the leering, teetering facade of a sociopath just to make him seem upright and real instead of her standing in her own majesty.

Candace suddenly jumps in with, “hey, Hazel, could we be friends over Squeaker? Sorry if it seems sudden, but..." She trails off and sighs. A lot of insecurity flows over her face, but something's off. I know her too well; Candace isn't being genuine and it's one of the weirdest things I've ever seen.

Hazel glances over at James, who stares at her before shrugging, and she replies, “okay, sure. I'm not as active as I used to be, though."

“That's fine, I've only recently started picking up on it, myself." Candace smiles and taps on her phone a few times. I watch as she reaches Hazel Buchanan's page and sends the request, and with an accompanying few taps from the woman in question, the request changes the screen to reveal more details, pictures and posts.

Candace finally takes her eyes from the screen and says, “I just... there's a lot I wanted to kinda talk to you about. I used to be pretty resentful, but the way things have fallen together, and looking back? It was really immature of me to be that way, so I'd like to make sure we can really bury any hatchets or whatever."

Hazel shrugs. “I never really felt that way back, but if it makes you happy, sure."

“There, see? Mended ties, one big family again." James sips his whiskey again, swirls it and swallows the rest. There's a cocksure attitude joining his usual smug as he slides the tumbler away, licks his lips and clears his throat.

“Although if I'm totally honest, cousin," he says and faces me straight on, once again with clasped fingers, “I also wanted a formal apology about what happened when we were kids. You know; back then. You and Uncle Lewis were pretty tied up with police investigations to really tell me your side of proceedings so I was hoping you would have the good grace to say sorry, both for what you and your father did."

The anxiety, the black oily stuff inside, starts to boil. James' plans are laid bare and all I want to do is reach across and slam his face into the whiskey tumbler. Candace is busy looking over her social media nonsense, her ears half folded with focus, and I'm just struggling to think of how to reply without implicating dad or being caught lying.

“You're right. I'm sorry for getting physical, but I don't get what you mean by what my dad did. He did nothing but call the ambulance after I lashed out because I was being emotional."

“I get it! Honestly, I do." James sinks his chin onto his clasped hands. “You're protecting him. I give my personal guarantee that no legal ramifications will come from you telling the truth. You and I both know rat rodere are inclined to physical response. More..." he searches for the sharpest knife and selects, “thuggish. Not to mention the strength; it was a slap and I was completely floored. You couldn't have accomplished that."

Candace's red eyes turn to James and her whiskers flare out, ears erect, “a good hit can knock anyone out if they're not paying attention." She then replicates James head position, head on hands even as she holds her phone. “Or maybe you just have a glass jaw? No shame in it if you do, although I'd like to know why this is so important; just take your lumps and deal with it, Jim."

James shrugs. “I don't understand the hostility, Candy, I just want an apology."

Candace holds her nerve; not that she would back down, it's just honestly impressive that she's bouncing with James like this and she hasn't dropped her mood even a fraction. “So either you accept Max slapped you into submission, or you claim Lewis, who's the goofiest, friendliest guy I know, is supposedly some child beating monster. I'm still wondering why you'd pick now, of all times, to bring this up."

“Closure, for one. Second of all, I believe everyone who does something wrong should be held accountable."

“Oh, good, accountability!" Candace claps her hands, puts on the biggest grin she can, complete with her ears going fully erect and really sticking her incisors out, and concludes with, “like making Hazel cheat on Max? Pushing her to make it seem like he was in the wrong? I wonder how much accountability is held there?"

The table went silent. Hazel turns her head away even farther as James looks at her with a stern gaze, then restores his grin, “well, it was her choice. She pursued me and I only reciprocated after she claimed she had broken up with Max." He turns to Heather again. “Right, babe?"

Silence.

James reaches across, but his hand's beneath the table. She flinches at his touch.

“Mm." Hazel grunts in agreement, I guess.

Without being able to look her in the eye, I didn't buy it, and when I glance at Candace, she looks at Hazel, then at her phone. She's still browsing Squeaker. and I wish I could see what Candace was searching so intently for, but I refocus the conversation.

“A lot of bad stuff happened then, and I've apologised for hitting you, but I've moved on from... whoever's at fault for the infidelity, James, and if you really want something out of me, then go right ahead and ask, but I'm through with this and I'm not going-"

James chuckles. “You're an awful liar, you know that? Then again, as someone who can't hold a job for long, it's clear you're undisciplined and it shows. A bit like your rat dad, so I guess mediocrity runs in the blood. Probably why most rat rodere them go into athletics; scarcely a brain between most of them."

The jabs against my dad are getting to me, but I'm just as surprised to once more see, or rather not see, some sort of reaction from the rat rodere at the table. Even a quick glance at Candace shows she's raised an eyebrow and one ear folded at the remark; she wasn't angry, just surprised.

I can't hold off the growl as I say, “look, I get the Buchanan's don't have a lot of rodere in their number, but lay off the racist stereotype rhetoric. It's not funny, just edgy, and for fuck's sake, is that how you talk around or even to Hazel? Your goddamn wife?" I gesture to her, despite how absent she seems as her eyes scan the thin pile carpet and not even the bustle around grandma.

I watch as dad bounces between the family groups and is currently talking with Aunt Iris, James' mom. She stares, unamused at one of his anecdotes; probably his streak across a major landmark area of London, Piccadilly Circus. Yeah, it got him arrested, but it also earned him fifty pounds sterling.

James shrugs. “She knows I don't mean it like that, but where there's smoke, there's fire; if you did hit me, then I bet Lewis used to slap you about as well."

Candace finally slams her phone down and leans over the table with her usual ferocity; even James' attempt at keeping his cool is broken for a split second as he presses himself back against the leather-clad seating. She hangs over him like a predator studying her prey, then finally climbs out of the booth and stretches.

“Hey, Max, fancy a drink? Hazel? What about you, Jim, another whiskey?"

I ask, “are you sure that's a good idea?"

“Sure," James says, looks at Hazel, and continues, “a red wine spritzer for my wife."

I'm just trying to read Candace, and once more I get this false front. Some plan she never told me in action. Then, for a moment, she squints as if strained. Not pain, but as if...

I sigh and say, “bourbon, please. Make it a double."

* * *

Oh, thank fuck for that.

I needed a breather. More than anything, I need Max to play along for now. Things are coming together now that I've got access to Hazel's Squeaker page, but I need time to get the ball rolling and I need Max a little lubricated in case I need backup. He's chattier and more confident after he's had a couple. I'm not ashamed to admit I'm a mean drunk, so I'll hit something strong for now and ease off after maybe two. Gotta keep my head.

I approach the bar, currently being manned by grandpa Buchanan himself as he engages in some conversation about one of the family who live out in California. I wait for service politely, but I don't listen in. Besides, I'm still heavily distracted.

“Excuse me, Mr. Buchanan, could I ask for some refreshments for our little party?"

“Sure thing..." he chews on his lip for a second, then nods and grins. “Candace! Did I get it right this time? Do you prefer Candy or anything?"

I'd let James get away with that shit and I tensed up, like taking a punch I knew was coming, but hearing it when I've dropped my social guard makes my hackles rise.

“I don't mean to sound fussy, but Candace is fine. I'd say to use 'Deece but I feel like asking someone who isn't a teen or at least someone my age to use that would just be weird."

“Candace it is! What can I get you? I know James takes a scotch with a dash of water and Hazel's partial to mixed drinks. My wife tells me I make a mean Old Fashioned, if you're interested."

“So yeah, that whiskey for James, a red wine spritzer for Hazel. Max'll take a bourbon- oh, a double. I'll have a double dark rum, please. Spiced if you have it."

Mr. Buchanan looks a little surprised, but then sets up three fancy etched tumblers and a highball glass. Real nice stuff; I've seen Mr. Jackson's best glasses for his special Sunday meetups and they aren't as nice as these.

I'm more impressed as he takes out a bottle with a hand written label, which I catch as reading 'rum' and little else, and he gives it a quick swirl to loosen the sediment; homemade shit? Hell yeah!

It doesn't take long for Mr. Buchanan to pour out the drinks and does so with the speed and neatness of an experienced bartender, then asks, “do you need a tray, Candace?"

“Heh, I'll be fine, Mr. Buchanan. I worked as a waitress for four years. Thanks!" I upturn one hand and splay out my fingers, then place the three tumblers on the back of my palm, index and thumb and remaining three fingers, each tilted against one another. Then it's simple to carry the taller, less stable highball in my other hand and I return to the booth.

Max is sour faced. Hazel is, once again, staring off into nothing and James looks like he's trying to persist on his apology argument but all discussion cuts off before I can confirm that guess.

“Here you go, lady and gentlemen," I say in full waitress mode and place each glass to their respective owners. I get real close to Hazel as a hand over James' whiskey and our eyes meet for a moment, and there's that wince again. and something else; discolouration beneath the fur-blender makeup...

Drinks handed out, I sit back on my chair and take a sip. It catches me by surprise how nice it is, but I end up swallowing quicker than I'd like. I'm still distracted by what I'd just saw.

“So, I was just saying to Max," James says, voice dripping with shit (I guess mockery, but it's always shit coming from him), “as a way to distance ourselves from the lack of a forthcoming truth about the incident back then, that I was a little worried to hear he does repairs on electronics and machines. I don't suppose you know if he's licenced? I'd hate to see him to fall foul of the law if something was to go wrong to some poor customer. Not to even mention the Right to Repair issue."

Oh, this is rich (and within expectations). Asking for an apology to throw blame on Lewis? Sure, we weren't gonna bite, but I figured this fucker wasn't going to just stick to that and now aim to get him in legal trouble over his hobby and little service to friends and family, restoring and repairing stuff.

Doesn't matter now, because I've almost got everything I need to put James in his fucking place and the little shit won't know what hit him. I just need to soften him up, so I laugh softly to myself and receive a funny look from the douchebag in question.

“Funny you should mention legal shit, 'cause I was just thinking of a funny thing that happened at work," I look across to Max, who tilts his head while enjoying his bourbon. “There's a security issue I've been keeping quiet about for a couple of weeks I got it tied up in a neat little bow. I haven't even been able to talk about it, but I figure now that we're in such good company," I say and lean forward to stare at James, "it might serve as a precautionary tale. Not necessarily in terms of direct harm, but indirect shit based on the perils of modern investigation."

I crack my knuckles, lift my glass once more and took another sip of my rum; that sweet up front and complex on the back character's the fucking bomb, warm and glowing as the spices take hold like a hug. I smile and savour it, then place the glass down and clear my throat. A rare opportunity of pleasure before business.

Enough pussyfooting around, let's liven this party up...

* * *

There was a smugness in Candace I hadn't seen since high school. It was fighting fire with fire against James' superior asshole facade as he lorded his plan to mess with my dad over everything.

I'm not sure whether to be afraid or gleeful in anticipation as she adjusts her glasses, sweeps her hair back around her ears and licks her lips. “So we've had this thief who's been stealing cash at the restaurant, but they were real good at covering their tracks. He made a point to pocket the cash in the less visible areas of the camera system, yet always put something in the POS- oh, that's a point of sale for the ignorant- I mean, uninitiated," she says and winks at James, who flinches at the condescension (and I grin in kind), “so we really didn't have a great deal of luck narrowing things down to start with but I did some homework."

James sighs and interjects, “fascinating, but anyway, as I-"

Candace snaps her fingers and points at him like she was scolding a dog. “Not finished. Anyway, so I checked about ways of detecting thieves that didn't rely so much on the workplace. Things like what they wear and whether their style of dress changes or how they act when certain topics are being discussed. Even aspects of social media, like how they'll be less inclined to post shit online immediately after a theft," Candace clears her throat and glances at Hazel before she adds, “even being victim to crimes."

Hazel's eyes flick to Candace for a split second.

James licks his teeth and says, “I don't see how-"

Once more, the snap back with a snide, “still not done. Jeez, you're rude! But I forgive you, Jimmy, since we're all one big happy family here. That's also a fancy, convenient segue into how we treat the restaurant like a family. We even have a restaurant Squeaker group that everyone joins for news updates."

I'm settling in to listen because this is Candace in a way I've not really seen in a while, in a classic smack-talking teen attitude way with the modern, mature veneer of my lover. I know what she's capable of, so my expectations are simmering.

James leans back and takes a heavy sip of his whiskey, while Hazel finally moves, even if only to sip her spritzer.

Candace gives me a quick flick of her rose-red eyes and carries on. “So naturally I went around on everyone's profiles, checked their timelines and activity, and do you know what I found?"

“No, but I'm sure you're about to tell us," James grumbles.

“That people leave traces of where they've been all over the place. Squeaker's really bad at leaving points about landmarks and major buildings that people have visited, or even suddenly liking or re-squeaking topics of sudden interest. Not to mention mysterious gaps in posts and no mention as to what happened during major events, but I guess that's not relevant," Candace once more gives Hazel a glance, then James, then continues, “at least right now.

“The point is that 'bitches be ignorant of their settings', and ignorance isn't just bliss, it's damn useful; our thief not only gloated about buying a new fancy watch, which by itself isn't incriminating, although he wasn't known for lavish spending. He also used to gamble, visited banks often in search of loans, harped on people he knew for handouts and more."

Candace sips her rum again and rolls her neck side to side with a smirk, ever smug. “So I watched him. Not as if I wasn't watching everyone, but I really watched him whenever he took cash. And you know what?"

She leans forward and clasps her hands around the glass.

“Suddenly the thefts stopped. So I eased off, and they mysteriously picked up again. He wasn't the smartest dude."

James slaps the table, hard enough to make Candace's ears pull back and snatch a look from both of us, “get to the point, already! You're boring Hazel."

“Lotta deflection going on there, Jimmy-boy, just-"

“And stop calling me that. It's James."

A controller and a bully was facing a bully hunter and someone with a vitriolic rebellious streak. It was fascinating to watch as he danced to her tune.

“Ah, whatever Jimmy-boy. But you're right. So I just moved one of the cameras, caught the dick playing in his pocket, and I mean every damn word of that, and we packed his ass off with a legal warning that if he pursued reparations we'd slap his ass double-time with theft that would likely cost him more time than most are willing to give. Cut and dry, I learned a thing or two, case closed."

“Whatever. Anyway, about Lewis-"

“Actually I'd rather discuss Hazel. Hell of a shiner on her. A little heavy with the makeup to cover it, though."

We all stop dead, glance at the silent rat as she gives a brief 'deer in the headlights' stare at Candace.

“Wh- what... b-but..." Hazel mumbles

“I've had enough of this. Leave my wife alone, you cunt!" James slaps his hands on the table and stands, as if he can somehow get Candace to back down. I almost laugh, but I'm too ready to throw hands if he moved closer.

He slowly sits back down as eyes turn to us, his voice turning into a hiss as he continues, “you've always been a bitch who sticks her nose into other people's business, Candy, pretending to help people just so you could make yourself important. You're an attention whore and you always will be! The fact you're not a dyke is actually surprising though, or maybe you just went macho to lure a weak asshole like Max who wasn't man enough to claim Hazel for himself and has to settle for some ugly, two faced albino rodent as a pity prize. That Max ended hitching up with you doesn't surprise me either: a fucking loser and his whore to hold his leash. I bet you just drag him around to draw even more attention to yourself, don't you?"

He recovers his snide smirk; this is why Candace is here, isn't it? He was gonna use her as a trump card if he didn't get his way. Explode on her and insult her, get a rise out of her and paint us as the bad guys.

Instead, as I figure she would, Candace giggles; she's tense, since her ears are half flexed back, but she's treating it like a contest or a game. Take the attack, let the opponent struggle, spend their best effort then counter attack.

She sniffs and shrugs. “at least I don't make people fight my battles for me; making Hazel attack Max like that because you're too much of a coward to at least own up to being a backstabbing douchebag? And a wife beater at that! You play up you're some fucking smooth-ass operator but what, you sell cars to old people with more money than sense? Am I supposed to be impressed? Just because Hazel was vulnerable and you managed to bed her, suddenly you're some hot shit or something, Jimmy-boy?

“Likewise you've probably boxed her in, literally it seems, with threats, going by her Squeaker profile. Sudden gaps where she goes from happy housewife to dead silent for a month here and there and how she's become more and more reclusive? And she suddenly took a liking to some people who managed to escape abusive partners in a few help groups! Just how hard have you hit her, Jimmy? How many times, Jimmy?"

“Fuck you!" A shout this time and all eyes turned on us again. Hazel blinks a few times as if breaking from a stupor, takes one look at James seething, open anger and leaps up from her chair, but rather than head towards the front door, she vanishes farther into the house.

Candace leans near to me and just says, “keep'em busy, all of 'em," then raises her voice to say, “sorry, my bad! I'm gonna go apologise to her."

She then stands up and runs in pursuit.

James snarls in, “leave my wife alone, you bitch!"

I stand and get in his way and he bumps into me. The second he tries to get around, I continue to block and expect a swing, but I guess that's not his style; he really is a bitch.

There's already feel that bit of anxiety creep in without Candace, but I muster up some guts and call out, “let's calm things down a little, okay? Sorry everyone, all under control."

* * *

This is Candace – III

I didn't exactly remember where the bathroom was, but I followed Hazel and that's where she's fled. It's like a really fancy hotel setup rather than a normal bathroom, likely for when the Buchanan's had business people over, so there's cubicle toilets and a couple of chairs for anyone waiting. One door lock clicks as it locks, then I hear Hazel sobbing and in tears.

I wasn't exactly planning to barge in just in case she was taking care of business besides having a breakdown. Instead I glance at the mirror, ignore the brief little bit of hesitation doing that causes, then lean against the wall and give it a few minutes.

Eventually, when her breathing calms, I clear my throat.

“Hey."

She snaps, “what do you want!?"

“Just trying to work some shit out. I think everyone'll be better off if you come clean."

“W- what?"

“I wasn't just spouting garbage with my spiel about doing security work, and I'll actually apologise for the false friend thing... okay, lemme rephrase that. I do want to touch base here, but... goddamn it." There had to be a more elegant way of covering this without sounding like a goddamn psychopath, sociopath or an idiot.

“Let's focus; what's James done to you? I know a healing black eye when I see one. Fuck knows I've had plenty and done the same; covered them up."

Hazel didn't bite back this time. Just continued attempts to control her breathing. “He hasn't done anything to me, so get out. In fact, all of you; you, Max and his parents. Just leave!"

“Nuh-uh. Maybe you don't understand what it feels like any more, to be in a relationship where you'll do anything to help your partner, but if Max is in trouble? Like this whole bullshit where James is clearly trying to get us either kicked out or Lewis in trouble? No fucking way I'm gonna let that happen. And if you have a scrap of decency in you that hasn't been smothered by that asshole of a husband, you'll stand up to him right here, right now."

The cubicle lock bolt slaps to unlocked and the door opens to the wet cheeked and furious eyed rat rodere. I get confirmation at that moment of my suspicions, but I don't let her in on it just yet.

“Go fuck yourself, you bitch!" She moves for the exit and I get in the way. She tries to push me, but despite her height advantage, we're a similar weight and I've got the better centre of mass; I shove her back as gentle as I can without pussying around.

“Neither of us are leaving until we resolve this or someone comes barging in. I think what I want is what you want too; something to lord over that fucker of a husband of yours. The guy's a real piece of work and I can only assume he married you for something pretty to distract from the fact he's a fucking weasel."

“The fuck do you know? Let me go!"

Again she tries to push through, once more I deflect her hands from the shove and push her back with my shoulder.

“You go from posting on Squeaker consistently, day in, day out, right up until three months ago. Then you're silent besides some resqueaks. Oh, and you never talk about your home life, do you? Funny, I've had to post about some of the goofy shit me and Max get up to, and you used to talk about home life ever since you got your phone in school. Just nothing about James."

It was time. I hated myself for stooping this low.

“He hits you, doesn't he?"

“No he-"

“It's alright. I know we might as well be strangers at this point, but as messed up as it seems, I want to help you. The Buchanan's seem like nice folk, far better than I thought they'd be, and they seem real focused on family, so I bet if you come clean and show the evidence, they'll side with you. Fuck, failing that, I'll help you."

Hazel holds back a sob, but she's still mad. “I don't believe you. Why? What do you stand to gain?"

“Because even though I don't like it, Max still fucking cares. You think I haven't been watching him as he looks at you? And because he cares, I have to as well."

Hazel's hand touches her eye, the one I saw the twitch; her fingers come away stained the colour of her fur and the skin around her eye, while well healed, is still a little puffy and dark. They may be easier to hide on a rodere, but I've had to try and cover plenty in my time, covering the areas where the fur thins.

“It... I-..." The tears flow again.

I need to ease off; she seems to be giving up and I need to get her back on board, so I say, “I'm genuinely sorry about this, but James is threatening Max's dad and I need to stop him, 'cause I can tell he'll use anything to get back at him from that shit that happened when you were teenagers. You've gotta know he's just using you."

Silence. I expected something volatile, but this was somehow worse.

“You pleading the fifth or are you thinking of a way to defend yourself? Give me something, damn it."

“I don't know what you want," she said, flat. “You've put a lot of thought into whatever this is, as if you were going to use me as a platform to attack James, but... you expect me to just listen to you? Help you?" Then the anger kicked in. Bare teeth, flat ears, whipping tail and fury. “My life is a smouldering ruin, and now you're just going to throw me away like everyone else? Do you have any idea how fucking broken my life is!?"

She throws her handbag at me and I slap it away; makeup, a phone, a perfume bottle scatter in the air along with a bunch of other things.

The squirt of adrenaline in my blood sparks some old anger. “You're right, it's a shitty thing for me to do, but you know what? Once upon a time, I saw you and Max together and you both looked like the happiest fucking people I knew. I had shit in my life; people I've lost, places I didn't want to be yet kept on doing the wrong shit, but the one fucking thing I knew for sure was that leaving Max and you together was the right call. It felt like my heart was in a fucking vice, yet I did it! That's what caring means!"

Just confusion and the slow trickle of tears. I bet she didn't even know.

“I wanted Max since I was barely in my teens, but I was scared. That it was too soon, that it would spook him. You needed help, I get that, 'cause Max does that; he helps people, so I backed off. Then you had the fucking balls to betray him!? Fucking why!?"

Shit, I just let that slip... too many emotions running high.

Hazel screams, “I don't know!! I needed something, anything to get away from my asshole dad and James said he'd do everything, move heaven and earth to do it. Max always seemed scared of doing anything further to help, but-"

“You were kids, what did you want from him? From Max? I never expected him to just sweep me off my feet, rescue me from shit, but he did because I have faith in him!"

I step forward and feel something plastic crunch under my shoe. I step off and look at it. I stop, stare closer and feel sick.

“You've gotta be fucking kidding me..."

A long strip of plastic with a little display. A pregnancy test.

A positive one.

“You're fucking pregnant!?"

Hazel sniffles and buries her muzzle in her hands and her ears flatten. “No... not any more."

All the dots join and the nausea cuts out; the violence, Hazel's 'distance' this whole time. I realise in the shittiest, most horrible way, that this is what I need to protect Max and Lewis.

I reach down, snatch the test stick and bolt for the lounge.

* * *

“Max, what's going on?" my mom calls out.

Shit. Do we go with tact? Do I just skirt around the issue? I can't even begin to think of how much of an asshole I'll look like going on the attack right now, since we're the outsiders here.

James calls out, “he threatened my wife, that's what happened."

Well, there's my answer; we just burn the whole event down.

“That's bull! He started pressuring me to implicate my dad for that nonsense when we were kids, now he's threatening him with legal action over some technical crap."

“Aw, not this bollocks again," my dad says and scowls, “police tied that up in a nice little bow; kids being kids, right?"

Aunt Iris steps in; she's a formidable and large woman. “We all know that's hogwash, Lewis! We've always known. Your boy's too gentle for that sort of uncouthness, but you're a street thug. Always have been and always will be!"

My dad's a good guy, but there comes a time when he'll push back. He's planning as he stares at her, weighs his options and then grins. “And you're two 'undred pounds of whore tucked in a 'undred pound tart's dress, Iris, so 'ow about you get your nose out of this and let'em sort this out. We don't need you weighin' in, and it's a lot of fuckin' weight, an' not lettin' our boys show 'ow mature they are, right?"

She stomps up and gets in his face, despite the height difference; she only comes up to the top of his belly. “Or you could just leave-"

Frail as she may be, grandma stands up and snaps, “stop this, both of you! I won't stand for any more bickering. I want my family together."

“There'd be more of it if it wasn't for James!"

Candace leaps on top of the bar. I didn't even see her come in, and by the reaction of everyone else, nobody else did either.

She's holding a long, thin object in her hand. A pregnancy test.

I don't want to believe it. The pieces slot together in my mind and it forms a strong picture, but I just don't want to believe it...

Candace steps back and forth along the shiny, varnished wooden bar, half-celebration and half cocksure victor. “I don't know if James wants to come clean here before we lay it all out for everyone! A little dramatic retelling of an abusive husband and his trophy wife?"

“What is the meaning of this?" Iris demands.

“What part?" Candace sneers back, “the part that your little Jimmy's a fucking woman beater? Or, my personal favourite, that his abuse cost her a kid!?"

A low gasp flows across the crowd. Hazel's standing by the lounge door and she seems paralysed. I spot James stare at her, furious, then at Candace. His eyes flick about; he's thinking of a way out of this.

“It's alright, everyone," James says. “Candace has always been a troubled child. The test is obviously hers and she's trying to protect Max and, by extension, Lewis. Redirection and all that."

Candace glowers at him, then says, “Hazel, tell'em the truth."

Nothing. Just silence as she looks away.

James snorts. “There's nothing to talk about. Yes, Hazel hurt her eye. She slipped. I even told everyone before your nasty little group turned up. Right, Hazel?“

“Could just run a DNA test, right?" Lewis offers.

“Do you one fucking better," Candace says, “turns out Hazel has a spare in her purse! I could go squat right now and prove it's not mine, but let me just say before anyone has any bright ideas, as the only two female rodere here, these are specifically designed for not only our kind, but this brand boasts more accurate results because it's designed for rat rodere."

Iris snaps back, “and you could have brought that with you!"

I've had enough; I storm up to Hazel before James can block me.

“Is this true? Is this what you attacked me for? Some jumped up asshole who abuses you? After you broke free from your dad?"

I can read her shame, but that's not hard evidence. James gets between us and pushes me back, so I try one last thing.

“Please. For me."

“Leave her alone, you asshole!" James yells and shoves me, desperate. He's weaker than I am, but there's nothing else I can do besides keep my footing and hope.

Hazel slowly wipes the tears from her eyes and looks at me. The streaked brown-fur coloured makeup is all but gone, and her bruised eye twitches as she sniffles. The way she suddenly seems stronger without the false front either makes me focus only on her and block out the noise of the chattering crowd, or everyone suddenly goes quiet.

“I'm sorry... but it's true. He- James caused me to miscarry."

James turns around and stares daggers at her, but all eyes turn to James.

The silence is chilling.

* * *

This is Max – III

Max and his parents look grim, but I can't stop my tail wagging as we wait outside the house.

There was yelling and shouting, people both defending and attacking poor little Jimmy-boy, others comforting Hazel and sitting with her. We decided removing me was a good idea; take out the detonator of the explosion, as if that would somehow help.

I'd feel guilty if I didn't feel so fucking smug.

Does that make me a bad person? Maybe, but so long as James gets his for fucking with my boyfriend, then it's all good. That little fucker's gotta be pissing his pants right now.

The only thing I'm confused with is why Hazel let this happen, but I guess I've always struck back when people took advantage of me. Not everyone has that experience or will. I've spent so long working out my own shit that living in someone else's shoes is a big deal.

Worst of all is the twinge of guilt I feel thinking about her. I just double down thinking of James' terrified face again and the grin comes back.

“What have you done, Candace?" Kathy's eyes are wet, and I guess I can't blame her for being upset with her family in turmoil like this, but I can't bring myself to look like I've got an ounce of remorse. I did what I had to, no regrets.

“It'll work out, luv," Lewis sighs and keeps an arm around her, both for comfort and because the temperature's dropping out here. “Seriously, though, Sweets; really? Not sayin' James didn't deserve it, but fuck me sideways, this is a bit much."

“Lewis!" Kathy swats her husband for the cuss. “We were supposed to be trying to bring us all together, not fracture us further."

Max looked lost and just sat on the stairs to the front door, elbows on knees and his mouth covered by his clasped hands. I couldn't get a good read on him since the big reveal, but I was keeping an eye out; if I hurt things between us, I was going to go apologise to everyone immediately. No revenge is worth losing him.

I say, “look, if your family has any decency, they'll work this drama out and at least discredit James for all the bull he's spewed about Max and Lewis all these years and, like he said, it will work out. I know it will. Or would you rather James keep smacking Hazel around?"

Kathy huffs. “Of course not, but you couldn't have brought it up with more tact? This was supposed to be a celebration of togetherness, not a... a... debacle!"

“Enough, stop it," Max finally says and stands up, “I'm sorry, Mom, but Candace is right, even if I don't agree with how she exposed James; yeah, it should have been done in quiet, but it doesn't matter. It stops James from worming his way out of it since the evidence was there for everyone to see and hear. He's always been an asshole, and the fact I'm related to people who let him keep getting away with his bullshit means it's time we see where they actually stand."

Kathy looks like she's about to chide Max for swearing, but she just wrings her hands and turns away.

There's nothing else worth saying as we wait for some sign of what's going on inside.

* * *

My heart's finally slowed down, but I'd be lying if I said Candace was a calming influence after what she just pulled. It's some time before the front door opens and grandpa steps outside.

“Oh, good, there you are."

He's followed by a shaken looking James, holding a full glass of whiskey with an even more shaky hand. He looks defeated with his eyes sunken and his collar looks distressed, as if someone's been giving him a piece of their mind while strangling him.

Grandpa says, “this mess isn't going to be quick to deal with, but James is family, so we'll take it one step at a time. Firstly, we think it best if Hazel stays here for a while until we can talk things through."

Candace says, “I'm sorry for ruining the evening, Mr. Buchanan. I should have thought things through and had a private word."

Grandpa glances at James, shakes his head and replies, “well, it's all out in the open now, so there's nothing else we can do but try and make the best of things. Now, I believe that apology needs one in turn. James?"

James knocks back most of the glass in one gulp and steps forward, near me and Candace but looks over our whole group. “I'm sorry for what I did. It's not right, and I'll do what I can to make amends."

“Thank you," Mom says.

Candace can't hold back a little snort, a barely withheld laugh that she tries to cover as she turns around to cover her smirk.

I watch as James' sullen expression twists into fury and he snarls.

Everything seems to slow as he pulls the glass back in his hand. It swings forward at Candace. I watch as the sucker-punch connects on the side of her face.

Adrenaline. It's like lightning through my body as I respond on raw instinct. I don't know what just happened, it's like I'm missing a second that felt like an hour.

I hear a glass break. I didn't see James drop it. There's a pain in my hand. I look at it and expected a gash, a random shard flung up and jammed in my knuckles. Something more confusing; broken skin, but not from a cut. Messy, the skin flaked white from abrasion against something hard.

The world came into focus; grandpa with his hands covering the sides of his head in shock, Candace holding the side of her face, my parents looking shocked.

James, flat on the ground, mouth moving in weird, fishlike gawping and his head swaying on the ground and blood pouring from his nose and mouth.

It became pretty clear in that moment; I fucked him up but good in one punch, and all I could feel was elation for doing it. Fuck this little cunt and every bit of insecurity he made me feel, for trying to attack my dad, for hitting Candace...

My thoughts, and my priorities, shift and I crouch down to check my girlfriend.

“Shit, Candace, are you alright?"

She doesn't reply but just hisses and grunts, and grandpa calls into the house, “call an ambulance!"

I half expected the police too, but he slowly crouches beside James as a few other family members exit the building and he says to him, “you stupid son of a bitch, what were you thinking!? Just how goddamn low do you have to go, Jim?"

James can't offer a coherent reply; just a low moan as he bounces back and forth from consciousness.

“Is your girlfriend alright, Max?"

I gently hold Candace and help her upright; she's holding the side of her face, wincing and her ears folded right back, rodere teeth glinting in the spill of light from the lights beside the door. She finally says, “I'll be alright... been hit harder. Gonna be a hell of a fuckin' bruise though."

“It might be a good idea if we leave," my dad says.

“Wait." Grandma appears from inside. She approaches mom and dad and gives them a hug, “I'll call you in a few days; there's so much more we need to talk about. Oh, and Max? Candace? I'm sorry we have to part like this... we need to have a frank talk without all this pressure. But I apologise for James' behaviour; I'll have a word with Iris to make sure he apologises properly."

We didn't hang around; we just packed into the Judge and drove off into the evening without more than a wave to the rest of the family.

* * *

The Feelings Left Behind - Epilogue

I sigh at myself in the mirror, but at least I have a legit reason to do so. The blackened, swollen skin peaks through the white fur of my left cheek and I'm glad it just missed my eye. Right on the cheek bone and I wasn't kidding when I said I'd been hit harder there before and I'm used to pains and aches. Didn't change the fact this sucked.

Fucking impressed with Max, though; I knew he was strong, but damn. Apparently James has a broken nose and a concussion from hitting the stone steps. Mr. Buchanan called Kathy's phone after a little before we got dropped off back home to make sure everything was still alright and give us a brief on what happened.

I can't say it's how I expected to get Kathy back in the family's good books, or if that's what's gonna happen. They're talking, so that's something.

The sun's gone down but the sky's still a dark blue. I close the shutters as I leave the bathroom and see Max coming up the stairs with a dishcloth packed with something; probably frozen peas or something.

“Here, for the swelling," Max says and I take it; yep, cold pack. I make a mental note to buy some real ice-packs for injuries now that both of us are practising martial arts. Guarantee one of us is gonna need'em at some point.

I put the cold cloth against my cheek and Max wraps an arm around me, then kisses me on the side of my head and says, “if you need anything else, just let me know."

“You could carry me to bed, rub my feet... and I could use some caviar and toasted triangles, maybe champagne?"

It takes me a second to realise that was going too far, and quickly add, “sorry, didn't meant to make me sound ungrateful. Thanks for the icepack."

Max smirks, “I get it, no babying. Tough girl's had worse before. But seriously, it's been a weird day and I feel restless, so I could use the distraction."

“I'm not really hungry; I kinda had my fill of canip?s, but I could totally go for a smoothie or something, if that's alright?"

“Go get settled and I'll get right on it."

“Thanks, Max."

He kisses me again and darts ahead down the stairs as I follow behind and adjust my grip on the icepack. Back home, safe behind walls we own, there's more creeping doubts about what I did was right.

I really am changing, ain't I? The therapy's making me all sensitive and weird. I can't even tell if it's a good thing yet or not, but I guess it depends on whether Kathy gets back in good with the Buchanan's and, as much as I still hate to admit it, whether Hazel's gonna be alright.

Once upon a time I wouldn't have given two shits about all the feelings left behind me. Candace, the one-woman wrecking ball now stops to regard the rubble left in her wake and worries she went too far.

Not gonna lie; it's a complicated feeling and I've got no idea how to process this. I know Max likes me how I am, and this whole struggle to change for the better without losing who I am isn't gonna change any time soon, but fuck it; it's a challenge, it ain't supposed to be easy.

Right now I just want to empty my head. Max's preferred method of zoning out and watching TV actually sounds like a great idea, especially with his laptop of weird ass British shit. I wasn't gonna pick anything though. I sit on the couch and wait for Max as I keep my cheek covered with the ice-pack.

* * *

I switch off the blender and pour out two strawberry, banana and kiwi smoothies, complete with a little garnish of split strawberries on the rim and the last few in a bowl (they're gonna start turning soon, so might as well use them), then whip a little cream for dipping. After a day like today, I think we could use a little treat.

Upon entering the front room with the tray, Candace grins at me. “Well, well! Someone's looking to impress tonight."

I place the tray down, sit next to her and she scoots over. After all the awkwardness earlier, it's just nice to be in this little comfort bubble, with her warmth washing over me and the scent of her flowery perfume. I take a strawberry, give it a quick swipe through the cream and hold it out for Candace.

“Ooh, pampering too? Do I have to remind you about the babying thing again or should I rest my feet on your lap?"

“You know I would, but if you keep pressuring me to keep up the perfect boyfriend routine, I'm gonna run out of material for when you really deserve something special."

She pouts. “Tsk, fiiiine, I'll just have to settle for delicious strawberries and cream as served by my handsome boyfriend."

Finally, and after I start worrying that the cream's going to drip off the strawberry, she leans forward with a long “ahhh" and bites the fruit and leaves just the stem in my fingers. Before leaning back, she kisses my hand, grabs her smoothie and settles against me.

I grab mine and hold it out; “here's to a less dramatic October?"

“Yeah, I'll toast to that."

We clink glasses and take a long drink; nice, sweet and smooth, barring the little bits and seeds for texture. I demolish most of it in one go while Candace just sips hers a few times.

“Heh, all I'm suddenly thinking of is what Dr. Ashton's gonna think of me burning down the Buchanan shin-dig."

“I know what she says means a lot to you, and because of that, I'm still happy to try and make us achieve what she thinks we can," I say and finish my smoothie, “but no matter what, I'm proud of you for how you handled James. He makes my skin crawl but you toyed with the asshole like a pro."

Candace giggles. “I am pretty awesome, ain't I?"

“And painfully, painfully modest."

“So fucking modest. I'd say it's what makes me far better than arrogant peeps, but I'm too modest. I'm so cripplingly down to earth, you'd better start carrying me everywhere, just so people know I still exist."

Candace puts the icepack down and I look at her cheeks; it's still swollen, but there's certainly some improvement.

“I'm actually kinda in the mood to just zone out with some TV. Got anything worth watching?"

I shrug and gesture for Candace to scooch over a little so I can open the laptop. After booting I flick through the playlists; I've already covered shows like The Office, a number of David Attenborough's documentaries (I'm surprised he's still working on these as one of the most famous 'second stage' mouse rodere still alive, back when they didn't have fur, full sized ears or tail but had the face shape going on) and a couple of panel shows, which seem to still be pretty popular over the pond.

I'm suddenly reminded of stuff like Hollywood Squares as a little kid and wonder why they seem to have fallen out of fashion, yet sure enough, there seem to be all sorts of weird celebrity quizzes in Britain, even if I don't know most of the people on it; soap opera actors and actresses, local musicians and people who are 'quote-unquote' famous because of reality TV or some bullshit.

As I check through the files for something to watch, it dawns on me I'm still frazzled from the bullshit James tried to pull and how I had to kinda twist the knife Candace set into Hazel, for anything I really need to focus on. After a few minutes of scrolling and noting series' I want to tackle soon like Red Dwarf and Blackadder, I just sit in silence for a bit.

“Not feeling it, huh?" Candace says, finishes her smoothie and gives me a little smile. “S'ok, we can just mellow out if you want."

“Sorry, Candy. Yeah, I just feel like I've been put through the wringer today." I shut down the laptop again, close it and lean back with my eyes closed. Candace takes the smoothie glass from my hand, places it on the table and snuggles against me. Her contented sigh helps me relax. As does the feel of her ear flopping against my shoulder, the feel of her fur and her warmth.

My hand comes to rest on her belly and I start fiddling with the buttons of her shirt. I pluck one apart and my fingers run over her abs; I feel the grooves, the way they tense a little as she settles into the sensation and it earns me a soft “oh."

Candace strokes my thigh and despite how frazzled my mind's become since we got home, and I know she can feel it, I can't help but grow hard. My dick starts pushing against her ass and I feel her tail flinch in response; it taps against my leg, then she slowly rolls over and we meet each other's gaze.

Those rose red eyes are hungry. I guess we haven't really been in the mood this week with the party looming over us and even with how I feel, I'm not gonna let a little something like family strife get in the way of pleasing my warrior woman of a girlfriend.

I lay flat on the couch and watch as Candace reaches over, takes a strawberry and perches it between her teeth, stem side in, then leans down and feeds me with her kiss. I carefully bite the fruit as close as I dare and she presses her lips on mine; rich sweetness and the light acidity paled compared to the softness of Candace's lips, the light brush of the fur on her face and the tickle of her whiskers.

She pulls away from me for all the time it takes for her to toss the stem from her mouth and back on the plate, then she darts back in as I finish chewing and swallow. Candace lowers herself and pulls my shirt up. I help her bring it over my head, but before I free my arms, she kisses my belly and chest in rapid little taps, then a deeper one. Her tongue licks upward until she reaches and kisses my neck.

The smell of her pristine white hair wafts upward with the scent of coconut. I struggle free of my shirt and ruffle the silky, thick strands with one hand as my other strokes her back. Finally, she reaches my lips with hers once more, and if she looked hungry before, she now looked ravenous. Her lidded eyes and flushed cheeks, even despite the still present swelling, was all the motivation I needed; I tug at her shirt and she lets me pull it off of her so I could, as always, marvel at her body.

You would think over the months I'd grow used to how she looks, but I know she's been getting stronger and gained a little weight as a result, so studying her body was something of a renewed habit of mine. Her slim build has grown just a little wider and sturdier. Her muscles stand out just a little clearer in the field of glorious white fur, layered over her feminine curves; the broad hips, the small but perfectly sized breasts concealed in her white bra create a brilliant pale silhouette in the comfortable, peaceful dark.

It would be perfect, but I'm still wearing my neat pants and they're not exactly roomy. My erection's getting cramped, so I unbuckle my belt.

Candace takes the hint and climbs off, then pulls them off of me and then also strips down as her bra lands on the table. I take the advantage as she hops out of her panties by wrapping my arm around her waist and pull her down on the couch with me on top.

I know I'm ready, but Candace always takes work to warm up. Just like everything else about her she's got stamina for days and gives as good as she gets, so I start simple; I kiss her unharmed cheek and lips but I move lower with each one; the soft, downy hair of her neck, the harder ridge of her collarbone, the flex of her pectoral muscles, then the amazing soft, plush mounds of her tits, capped with a stiffening nipple.

I stop here; for every powerful part of her body I lust over, I just indulge in the pleasure of her womanly side to cherish. She gasps as I peck the teat and drag my tongue over the oasis of skin in the field of white and her clawed fingers stroke my hair in response. Her legs lock around mine and her tail taps against the sofa. It's clear she wants more and I'm all too eager to provide all she can take. Candace shivers as I nuzzle the giving flesh and move to the other side. There's more I can do, so a hand wraps around her thick, muscular hip and the other strokes her belly, then lower.

At once, I brush the densest part of her body fur, the pubic tuft right above her clitoral hood, and give a gentle bite to her nipple as well. She tenses up and stifles a loud moan and it just makes me desperate for more. Her legs squeeze against my sides and it's almost painful from how goddamn powerful she is. Her arms first press my head against her chest, but once more her desire for more forces her hands away to let me work.

Her strength, once a source of shame despite her drive to fight those she stands against, is also a key to her lusts; every time I worship her body, she gets just that little bit more excited at the way I look and touch her, drink in that power. I remember our first time and see how she responds now; I drop lower and try to wrap my hands around Candace's thick, luscious thighs as I kiss her hard belly and run my fingers through the grooves and lines of her musculature. She doesn't give the same strong reaction to her more erogenous spots, but the panting reaction is a blissful one as once more I prove how fucking sexy she is.

She tries to say my name, the little “Maahs" dotting her breaths, but this isn't about me. No, it's about her. It will always be about my beautiful girlfriend. The most powerful and gentle lover.

My hand 'slips' from her thigh and strokes the lowest parts of her glistening labial lips, which gives me another pinch of her knees as they grip against my sides. They're wet, but they could be wetter; I keep a hand dancing on the edges as I pull myself higher on her body with the other, enough that I can see her pink cheeks through the white fur over the frantic rise and fall of her chest.

The open mouth, her eyes losing focus but she musters the will to stare at me, but then they do and it's no longer a hunger, just a deep need; she's wild, an animal uncaged and unleashed. If I stop now it feels like she's gonna kill me, so I have to sate her for my own sake as much as hers.

I slide my fingers in her vagina and keep the thumb on the outside and massage her inner wall and this time, she can't hold it back; her cry echoes in the silence and she throws out a kick so hard against the arm rest I feel the couch vibrate despite the padding. Just to drive her harder, I move my thumb up and run it over her hood as if I missed the target on purpose but she still writhes under me, her eyes shoot upward and her head rocks back.

Then, without an ounce of mercy, I pull my hand out, grip her shoulders and mount her. She bites her lip so hard I swear she's going to draw blood and she starts to scream, only for it to turn into that delightful rodere squeak as any degree of sense loses her mind. She bucks against me before I'm even ready so the end of my cock glances her clit and the squeak cuts off. Her body tenses so hard I'm amazed at how much her arms swell. Her tits bounce as her pectorals shift and she gasps for a deep lungful of air.

The moment she does, I finally insert myself. The heat of her body envelops my dick and I know I'm now fighting against the clock; she's been pulled from the brink from the shock against her button, but now the violent swell of her arousal is clear. She drools and gnashes her teeth as I ride her amazing form; each wet slap and squelch of her pussy is an amazing symphony of visceral lust and love. Her arms slip against my sides as control escapes her and instead they drag against the upholstery.

Candace yowls and her vaginal walls try to clamp down and she arches her back, and it takes all my strength to push her flat. Holy fuck, she's strong, but she's been conquered again; her orgasm rocks her and her eyes roll back with that familiar, victorious smile. I grunt as I keep my pace and the creaking of the couch can barely be heard against her extended cry.

I'm not far behind. A few ragged gasps as she comes down is all that fills my ears beyond the thundering of my heart, but the sad little logical bitch in me pulls out; we weren't planning for this and I can't take the chance of going too far, so I growl as I rub my dick over her pubic tuft and that's all it takes; my body feels like it explodes as I cum all over her belly. Gobs of my seed coat the rapid rise and fall of her abs and her lidded eyes betray more than the persisting, goofy smile on her face and fall on top of her.

Even despite how far gone she is, her arms and tail instinctively wrap around me as her breathing continues to come in hard gasps; the inexhaustible Candace once more meets her match.

Then I almost don't hear it, but the shrill sound punches through the afterglow.

The fucking doorbell?

“... fuck it. Whoever it is can wait."

Candace's eyes recover some focus and she licks her lips, “wha...?"

“Someone's at the door, but-"

The chime again, then a knock. And not just any knock.

It's the 'shave and a hair cut', complete with the two bits reply after a brief pause. That's...

“...oh fuck, is that Dad?"

I pull myself off of Candace, only to find that where we'd been cuddling post coitus, I've now got a belly covered in my own cum. Our clothes are strewn about, we're both a mess and the room isn't much better.

“Come on, kids," the distinct tone of my dad calls through the door, “it's pissin' cats, dogs and arseholes out here!"

It's been cold so the windows are closed, but now that I focus, I can hear the subtle rumble of a downpour.

I stand and Candace follows, although a little slower since she's still a bit out of it from her orgasm. I pick up her clothes and gently push her to the stairs so she can take a shower, then throw on my pants and shirt and finally open the door.

Dad's lent mom his jacket, so his undershirt and fur's all wet, although his gentlemanly gesture hardly mattered since mom's likewise drenched as they step in and I close the door behind them.

“Shit, sorry, son; I didn't think you'd be in bed already."

“Uh, we weren't! Just... distracted," is all I can manage. “What're you doing back here, anyway?"

Mom sighs, “sorry to impose, Max. It turns out the fancy sports tires your father put on his car don't like the wet. We almost slipped off the darn road on the way out of town so I told him to get us back here nice and slow."

Dad smirks all awkward as he slicks the longer head fur out of his eyes and says, “and I kinda only checked the weather reports for down near the Buchanan's. I wanted to wear'em in with a long drive. My bad, luv. And yeah, sorry Mills."

Yep, that's my dad alright. I sigh and try and form a plan. “Let me get some towels, you go in the front room. Candace is in the shower right now, then you guys can get yourselves cleaned up. I'll set you up with some bathrobes while I run a wash cycle once you're done so you've got something to wear tomorrow. That and I'll see about setting up the spare room again." I start up the stairs and remember the front room's likely in disarray. “Oh, and don't mind the mess."

Sure enough, the shower's running when I get up there. I gently knock on the door. “Hey, Candy, it's just me," I say and slip inside.

I gather some spare towels and Candace waves but otherwise doesn't say anything. I take a washcloth, ease open the shower door, wet it and give my belly a quick clean, then replace the shirt with a dirty one from the previous day. It's better than the button shirt that is now visibly wet at the midsection.

By the time I get downstairs, mom's pulling a weird face and sitting on the arm rest while dad's helping himself to some leftover strawberries.

I hand out the towels and notice mom's blushing a little, then she says, “I'm going to go wash my hands in the kitchen."

“Uh, sure. I'll put the towel on the table."

She heads off and I hand one to dad.

“Thanks, son." Dad starts patting himself down roughly and then peels off his shirt to rub down his body. His fur's clinging to his thin, but fit body and for a second I think that's why mom's embarrassed, but then I see where she likely would have been sitting.

A wet patch on the couch. Just about where me and Candace...

“Oh, shit. Don't tell me mom..."

Dad snickers, “don't ask and I won't 'ave to say it. Nothin' to be ashamed of. Just makes me even more sorry for interruptin' ya." He clears his throat and leans over, “might wanna get a good, thick throw for the couch though, right? Somethin' waterproof or easy to wash."

I sigh and facepalm. Dad pats me on the head and just says, “that's my boy!"

The End of September.