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Jiffy

Chapter 8

Joel

Surreal.

That was the best way Joel could describe the scene before him. Room 322 was unnaturally quiet. There was no steady beeping of a heart monitor, the pitter-patter of footfalls as nurses and doctors ducked in and out or its lone resident's heated words. Everything was chillingly still. Bartholomew Rockham lay on the bed, eyes shut, lips turned down into a frown that had seemed plastered onto his face for as long as Joel could remember. He wasn't breathing and in the bright lights of the hospital, Joel could see how little had changed about his father in the twenty-four hours since he had last seen him.

Only now… Bart Rockham wasn't breathing.

He was just… still.

Part of him was still expecting his dad to just suddenly open his eyes and scream at him for being such a pussy, for crying and standing there with a look of utter shock and terror on his face. A giant prank just to get back at him for what he had said the previous day. But as the minutes ticked by, that became less and less likely. Underlying this harsh reality was the fact that Bart was never one to pull pranks.

He was a bitter, humorless and hateful man…

… but he was still my dad.

Those were the first clear thoughts that pierced through the fog of disbelief and shock that had clouded his mind since he returned to the karaoke bar and told his friends that his dad was dead. How he had gotten here was a mystery. The shock was just so much that he was sure he had blacked out. One minute, his friends were surrounding him, pressing him for details and the next thing he knew, he was standing above his father's still corpse.

Corpse. He's a corpse now.

That realization caused a lump to form in his throat, restricting his breathing. He clutched his chest as each breath came faster than the last.

My dad is dead.

A conclusion he was not ready for.

He collapsed but was surprised when he found a chair had been positioned right behind him. Amos and Erick had moved the little sofa behind him just for this occasion. His friends were around him. Killian held his hand tightly and Dorian was kneeling beside him, an arm over his shoulder. Cash had a paw on his shoulder and Shaw was standing directly behind him. They shone so brightly. And yet, in front of him, was this void that sucked in their warmth; the cold body of his dead father.

He's actually dead.

Joel grit his teeth, trying to force back the tears that were streaming from his face and the wheezing gasps that were escaping his throat. His hands reached out, grasping the railings of the bed gripping them so tightly he was sure he could have bent them out of shape.

A myriad of emotions flooded him and they blended and swirled together like oil on asphalt; fundamentally black but with swirls of color dancing on its surface. He couldn't pick any one to focus on. Sorrow. Terror. Anger. Loneliness. Regret. They all just kept dancing in his mind that it bled into his vision, blinding him to what he was seeing until he wiped away his tears and reminded himself of the miserable reality that sat in front of him.

My dad is really dead.

No one said a thing. He was vaguely aware of the hours ticking by and somewhere, in the back of his mind, he realized that it was a Sunday and they had arrived at the hospital late into the evening. When the lights dimmed, he realized that it was getting very late but he couldn't muster the strength to ask his friends to leave him for their own sanity. They didn't need to stay here with him.

As if reading his mind, Killian was the first to leave. The otter leaned down, kissed his cheek tenderly and whispered something. It was kind, affectionate and comforting but Joel was still lost in the mire of this inky murk of confusing emotions to respond. He wanted to thank the otter for his words, wanted to scream and demand why this had to happen and beg him not to leave. All that came out of his throat was a broken sob.

Erick was next. He reached over the couch and gave Joel a hug. One that lasted a few minutes. Then, when he began to drift away, Joel felt the cold absence of the wolf's strong arms. Every fiber of his being wanted to beg Erick to stay, wanted to hold him tight and fuck him in front of Bart because he knew it would wake up his father and to beg Erick to take him away. Unable to move against all these instincts, he just sat there numbly.

Then it was Shaw. The cola that had changed his life so much. Shaw knelt in front of him, took both his hands. His lips moved but Joel couldn't hear anything. Shaw's soft, green eyes looked past him at the others and gave them a nod. Then Shaw kissed his forehead before leaving. Didn't want him to go. Wanted to blame him for making him say those things yesterday - making the last words he ever said to his dad so hateful. Wanted to just wake up in the polar bear's arms somewhere far from here.

But he couldn't do any of that.

One by one, his friends left and he was alone with the cold, dead body of Bartholomew Rockham.

An hour passed. Maybe two.

Then he finally found the strength to say something.

“I hate you."

Those three words opened the floodgates and tears streamed freely from his eyes.

“I hate you so much," he scowled. “Things were looking up. I was rid of you. I just decided I didn't need your fucking approval and then you pull this shit?" He pressed a hand against his chest, pushing down on his pained heart. “I just had sorted shit out with Liam and then you decide to be the ultimate drama queen and die! What the fuck!? Seriously, dad! What the fuck!?"

He found the strength to jump to his feet, looming over his father's body.

“Is this some sick joke?" he shouted, not caring who heard him. “Did you decide to dress up someone else's body just to make my cry? To prove how much of a sissy I am? Are there cameras around here to watch me break down so you have something to watch while the cancer eats away at your damned black heart!? Is that it!? Huh!?"

No response.

The lights remained dimmed. The room remained silent. The body in front of him remained unmoving.

Weakness overcame his knees and he collapsed beside the bed.

“Please…" he pleaded softly. “Please tell me this is a joke…"

Still. Unresponsive. Cold.

Joel buried his eyes into his forearm, sobbing quietly. Even now, it felt like the ultimate shame to be crying in front of his dad. The tears just kept coming. He wasn't sure if he was bordering on the edge of dehydration but he continued to weep.

Until a soft, warm paw rested on his shoulder.

“Joel?"

He lifted his gaze and was surprised to find the dark blue eyes of Samuel Royce regarding him with concern. The door to the hallway was open almost casting the wolf with blond hair in a white halo.

“Sam…" he croaked. “What…" He wiped his tears away. “What are you doing here?"

“I was visiting, remember?" the lupine artist responded. The young man's dark blue eyes drifted towards the Bart Rockham. “I see you're doing the same."

Joel turned away, regarding his father's body but after a few seconds, he couldn't even look at the corpse and buried his eyes back into his arm. “Please… just… leave me alone."

For a moment, Sam was silent and the paw drifted away from his shoulder. Then he heard the sound of a chair being pulled up and he looked to find the wolf had positioned himself at the foot of Bart's bed and was pulling out his tablet.

“What are you doing?"

“I never told you why I'm here to visit, did I?" Sam responded with a little smile.

“I thought it was because you were undergoing some…" Joel's throat closed and he croaked out the last word. “… treatment."

“Is that was Damon put in your head?" chuckled the wolf. He turned the tablet towards Joel, showing a surprisingly photo-realistic portrait of an old female eagle pressing her cracked beak against her male mate. “I do portraits for those who are staying here. I try to capture their essence. It makes them happy. Immortalizes them in some way." Sam turned the tablet back to himself, fished out his stulus and began sketching, glancing up towards Bart every few seconds before looking back down. “I generally don't like talking about it because these pieces are private. They're for the people here to enjoy and I only share it with people upon their request."

Joel lifted his head a little. “Damon made it sound like you were… you were dying or something… you know, the clocks and stuff…"

For a moment, Sam glanced at him quizzically. Then his eyebrows shot up and he let out a soft, respectful chuckle. “Oh. He would see it that way. He probably thinks that I'm wasting my time with the people here. I'm giving them my time to give them a fragment of hope, to hold on for a little longer. I do this for free, after all. Someone who is so bound to monetary values and physical achievements would consider that a waste of what limited time we have in this world."

I guess… I guess that's one way of putting it… I honestly thought it was between Damon and Sam not Sam and others…

“He might think it's cruel of me to give people hope," Sam continued. “To prolong people's lives by giving them something to look forward to. But I'm not someone who can and would delay when someone's time has come. I just want to make the journey a little more pleasant."

“Then what are you doing now?" asked Joel. “My dad is already… he's already…" He choked again on his words.

The young wolf gave him a little, sad smile. “His is not the journey I'm talking about. People are suffering and I hope my portraits can at least help ease that suffering a little. This portrait is for you."

Joel reeled back in surprise. “What? I'm not dying…" He pressed a hand against his chest. “Am I…?"

Sam giggled a little. “No. That's between you and your doctors. But I think you'd want something to remember your father by instead of the hateful man he was in these past year."

The bull threw his dad a scowl and straightened, seating himself back into the couch that his friends had pushed over. “It wasn't just in these last few years that he was a spiteful dick. You were there. You met him three years ago just after you became a regular."

He glanced off to the right, almost imagining himself standing in his father's living room, Bart on that big recliner of his, smoking a cigarette. Introducing Sam as one of his regulars and an artist, Joel had been excited to tell Bart that the bar had been successful enough that they had a return patron in the Art Major who was in his first year. Then Bart started mouthing off about how Joel was corrupting the 'youth of the day' and warning Sam to stay away from Joel who would 'make him gay'.

“Funny," Joel said, “you never said anything to the guy even after I told him you were an artist and he started telling you to get an 'actual' job." He smirked. “Bet he's rolling around in Hell now that you're drawing him."

“I didn't need to say anything," Same said, tilting his head a little with his eyes darting between Bart and his tablet. “Nothing I did or said would have changed his opinion of me or my choices."

“He barely knew you!" Joel gestured aggressively at his own father. “And then he started mouthing off about how you were wasting your time, that you could 'do better' than me and that you shouldn't let someone who was twice your age tell you what to do!"

“I could've retorted that also applied to someone quadruple my age but I decided to keep my muzzle shut."

“Why didn't you?" huffed Joel, folding his arms and staring at the wall. “Would've shut him up."

“I doubt it," Sam snickered. “He wasn't going to change. Sometimes, stories like his don't end on happy notes. Maybe he passed away hating all homosexuals in the world or lamenting how his son fucked a college student."

“We never got together!"

“Doesn't matter if we did or didn't. We can never change people's minds. Not really. The only time we can do that is when they want to change and I don't think your dad ever wanted to change."

Joel glanced away, finding his eyes fall on his own wringing hands. “There goes Shaw's idea." He glanced up at Sam briefly. “You met Shaw, remember? The cola with me yesterday? He suggested that all my dad ever wanted was to see me stand up for myself. That he was actually happy or at least, satisfied, after I blew up at him yesterday when I defended Shaw from him."

Sam stopped drawing for a moment and canted an ear in his direction. “Now that I think of it, you never aggressively fought back against your father. You did defend me but it was more like a gentle negotiation than actually fighting back. What changed?"

A little smile tugged at the corners of Joel's lips. “Shaw. He barged in here, defended me and when my dad went at him, I just had to fight back."

The wolf turned back to his drawing, a small smile on his face. “I can't say what your dad was going through when he died. We can believe all we want as well but you'll never know what another man is thinking, not truly. All we can do is choose how we remember them. And the way I choose to remember your father is…"

Sam got off his chair and padded over to Joel, handing him the tablet.

There, on the screen, was a beautifully rendered headshot of Bartholomew Rockman in his prime. Full fur, full head of hair, thick neck and large, proud horns. The bull's lips were basically a straight light save for a light downturn; the prophecy of the permanent scowl he would wear for most of his life. It was gorgeous. Chillingly accurate.

Just as Joel remembered him.

“How did you know what he looked like?"

“I'm an artist," Sam replied with a proud swish of his tail. “Plus, I drew inspiration from you. You look a lot like him, you know. Though I imagine he was way bigger because he was in the military. Plus you have a better smile."

Joel let out a little chuckle and handed the tablet back to Sam. “I don't know how to feel about you saying I look just like him."

“A parent's job is to ultimately make sure their child is better than they were," Sam mused softly. “Call it evolution. Call it decency. I firmly believe that when someone chooses to be the custodian of another life, they sign a contract that they must guide their child to be better than they ever were. The fact that you look a lot like him but, in my opinion, turned out better, is telling."

“I would never call him a 'good parent'," Joel muttered. “He did the bare minimum as required by the law."

“We can never truly change anyone else's mind," Sam repeated somberly. “But we can choose how we remember people. I choose to remember Bartholomew Rockham as a strong, proud man who held onto his beliefs and loved his son enough to actually care about the people he hung out with, what he did with his life and offer some heavy-handed if abrasive advice."

Sam picked up his bag from where he had set it down. “I should have the portrait finished in a day or so. I'll send it to you afterwards. Right now…" He let out a soft yawn. “I've got to hit the hay. It's already Monday." He squinted a little against the window. “And I think the sun is coming up."

Joel surprised even himself as he looked past his father's body and at the rapidly brightening sky. He had been here all night and never noticed.

“Hey Sam…" he began.

“Yeah?" answered the wolf.

“Can I make one request with that portrait?"

Shaw

Little sleep was had the previous night.

Shaw felt so guilty leaving Joel at the hospital but he wasn't sure how much comfort he could offer the bull especially since they were mourning the passing of a man who had disparaged him so violently. A little bit of guilt gnawed at him at the distant possibility that his words and actions may have led to Bartholomew Rockham's death. He reasoned that the heated argument that he had caused wasn't what ultimately made Bart give up and leave his son but…

No. That's stupid.

Bart was dying. Badly. It wasn't me…Right?

Though he was fighting sleep as he went about his day, he couldn't help but worry. When an invite came from Erick into the 'Council', he had readily accepted and immediately asked if any of them had heard from Joel. The rest of the JACKED guys readily welcomed him but no one had heard from the bull since they had all left Joel to grieve.

That worried him until about noon when Dorian reported that Joel had stopped by and said he was going to take the evening off. The shark had pressed for details and Joel said he was going to try to get some sleep then start looking at funeral arrangements. It would be a bit problematic since Bart had a few ex-wives and though Joel never knew them, he felt obliged to contact them. Whether or not Bart left a will would also be a problem later on. Bart did own a house in Golden Cliffs' suburbs and had a decent amount in savings. That would likely be hotly contested.

Though Joel didn't say it, Shaw had a feeling that the bull would not be inclined to take anything from his father.

The misery of the day was banished, however, when the lawyers came back and announced that they had finished the contract for the JACKED project and the managers had signed off on it. Shaw felt guilty about sending it over to Cash given how vulnerable the guys were but he hoped this would take their minds off the gloomy topic. It brought him much relief when Cash actually came back with some amendments indicating that the lion was not in some weakened state.

After a bit of back-and-forth, Cash and Shaw's managers agreed to the terms of the contract and Shaw sent a physical copy to the lion to sign and mail back.

At five in the evening, Shaw packed his belongings and quickly sent a text to Joel.

'How are you holding up?'

He took the elevator down and reached the lobby when he checked his phone again. No response. Wondering if he should go back to the hospital or not, he decided to wait in the lobby for a few minutes to see if the bartender would respond. That response would dictate where he would go this evening.

As he waited, he texted Erick directly.

'I lost the bet. You still let me into the Council?'

Erick responded almost immediately. 'You still owe me that blowjob. But Joel would want this.'

A smile touched his lips. 'Thanks. Have you heard from him?'

'Not since noon when he told Dorian he was taking some time off. I heard from Cash that he was heading back to the hospital to sign some paperwork.'

'Anyone going to go with him?'

'I was going to if you wanted to tag in?'

Shaw pondered his options. Bart's death was fresh and raw. It was barely 24-hours. Perhaps space was what Joel needed.

He shook his head.

No. Joel isn't the kind of person to go around sulking and be alone with his thoughts.

He is a social guy and needs people. He needs to vent and his friends around him.

Just as he always said, he just needs a 'jiffy'.

Though he was unsure if he used that terminology right even if it was in his own head, Shaw was already formulating a plan in his mind. He was channeling the wolf a little as he ran through the steps. Being genuine could easily be interpreted as being manipulative, as the burly wolf had said, but that shouldn't stop him from being honest and affectionate. He was worried about Joel and he wasn't going to let him wallow in misery by himself.

He rapidly began texting.

'I've got an idea. Meet me at Cash's place. Give me a few to grab him.'

'Okay,' answered Erick. 'Do you need a ride?'

It took Shaw a second to mentally curse and remember that he did not have a car in any capacity. How was he supposed to get to the hospital, pick up Joel and then go to Cash's home without taking public transport or convincing Joel to drive him?

Then he thought back to Amos and his conversations with the big dragon. If there was anything he had learned from the bodybuilder, it was that if he wanted to change something about himself, he needed to actually do it instead of just sitting around complaining. He recognized he was out of shape so started going to the gym.

He needed a car so… another idea formed in his head.

'Don't worry. I've got it.'

The plan sealed, he quickly left his place of work, jumped on the nearest bus and texted the other guys - outside of the Council chat - on his plans. A short fifteen minutes later, he was jumping out of the bus and heading up into the car dealership. Rows upon rows of brand new cars were spread out in front of him and when he headed up to the gorilla sales man, he was greeted with a big, welcoming smile.

Thank god car dealerships are open late.

“What can I do for you, sir?" asked the ape in the suit.

“I'm looking for a new car," he announced. “Something to get me from point A to point B quickly, efficiently but big enough to fit at least four guys my size and bigger."

The gorilla's eyes gleamed. “Well, I have an SUV that would be right up your alley."

Here comes the hard sell.

“An SUV might be pushing it. What else do you have?"

It took him a bit to finally settle on a moderately sized sedan. Though he could imagine carting around Joel, Killian, Cash and Dorian relatively easily in the vehicle, he wasn't sure that he would be able to fit Amos and Erick comfortably. Maybe one of them if they were in the back and one other in the passenger seat but not much more than that.

Then came the financial part.

Loan, lease or just buy it outright.

Recalling his conversations with Cash, he remembered how an impulse buy could be disastrous. He had to keep a level head. Think about the pros and cons. Measure what he genuinely wanted and make sure that he wasn't just doing this for someone else. That he wanted it and that once he got locked into the contract, he wouldn't regret it.

The eagle behind the desk at the financial office regarded him keenly, waiting for his response.

With a smile, Shaw said, “I'll buy it."

An hour or so later, he was driving out of the lot with a car he owned. It set him back quite a bit but from his calculations, he would need it more than another loan. With work ramping up for JACKED, he would need to drive to the bar more and more often and he couldn't rely on public transport or one of the guys to help him get there.

This was still better than getting a house.

That would be in the future but for now, this car would bring more benefits than the brief shortfall that came investing the tens of thousands of dollars it cost to get the title under his name without any strings attached.

He drove down the highway and just as he about halfway to the hospital, his phone buzzed at him. The car had a feature that allowed him to synchronize his phone with the dashboard and it displayed the text from Joel at him.

'I'm okay. Just at the hospital finishing up some paperwork.'

Good. He was heading in the right direction.

Shaw then hit the speech-to-text button on the steering wheel.

“I'm coming to pick you up. Stay there."

When the machine asked him if he wanted to send, he confirmed. Not a few seconds later, Joel responded.

'Thanks but I need some time alone. Still raw, you know?'

Digging deep into his 'inner-Killian', he took the otter's devil-may-care attitude and infused it into his reply. Someone who doesn't care what others think about him and lives as he wanted to live.

“Joel, I can't begin to understand how you feel. But you do not need to be swimming in your own misery. I know what that is like and eventually, you'll get used to the stink and forget about it. You can't let the stench of your father's rotting corpse define you."

He wondered if that was too soon but he thought he had a good grasp on Joel's personality at that point. A joke like that was exactly what Joel needed.

He was right.

Joel sent a laughing face emoji before honestly sending a reply.

'You sound like Killian.' Then a few seconds later, he added, 'Sure. Who's driving?'

“Me," Shaw answered enigmatically just as he arrived at the hospital. “Meet me out front."

That was enough of a dangling thread that he was sure Joel was curious. Within minutes, the bull was emerging from the off-yellow building and stood agape as Shaw stood expectantly beside his hotrod red sedan. The bull, who looked like he hadn't slept at all, staggered forward, arms wide with a look of utter surprise on his face.

“What the hell is this?" he exclaimed.

“Like me new ride?" Shaw said, beaming brightly, pulling open the passenger-side door. “Just got it today."

“Today? Didn't you learn anything from Cash?"

“I did. It's why I didn't buy a house."

“And this is better?" Joel laughed, sliding into the passenger seat.

“I weighed the pros and cons," answered Shaw, as he took up position behind the wheel. Now, he was digging deep from what he had learned from Dorian - cool and casual while still showing the utmost loyalty to his friend. “I figured that it was about time I got my own ride. I've been bumming rides off you guys for long enough. Besides, I think it would've been really weird if I kidnapped you and you were the one driving."

Joel gave him a weak smile as he buckled his seatbelt. “Really? And where are we going?"

“To Cash's place."

The bull let out a soft sigh. “Huh. Figured. Probably best to keep me away from all the booze within reach at my place."

Never thought of that but good point.

“Sure," Shaw responded, pulling away from the hospital. “But let's put a pin on that. How are you really holding up?"

Joel took a deep sigh and peered out the window, following the hospital as it disappeared behind the highway and trees. Even after they were on the main road and driving up north, the bull didn't say anything. It took five whole, painful minutes before he said anything.

“The hospital needed a lot of paperwork signed. I learned that the asshole had actually signed a 'do not resuscitate' order right after we left him Saturday." Joel's lips twisted into a humorless smile. “He died yesterday evening. Went to sleep like normal and just…" Joel made a light exploding gesture with his hand. “Poof. Gone. Heart just stopped. Stopped breathing. The doctors didn't bring him back upon his request."

Damn… So was it because of what we said…? Did… Did I actually…?

“You know what's funny though?" Joel laughed softly, his voice hoarse and without humor. “I think you're right."

“Huh?"

Joel took another few minutes before responding. “Before Saturday, he had actually slipped into a coma. They brought him back, though. I went to visit him. It was the usual bullshit except for one thing…" Joel's amber eyes dipped closed for a moment. Shaw thought he had fallen asleep until he started speaking again. “… For the first time in his life, he genuinely said that he was ready to die. Pretty much said he was ready to give up."

Oh…

“But it was only after I shouted at him on Saturday that he signed that order," Joel mused, his eyes opening slowly. “I think you were right. He was just waiting for me to stand up for myself. Or maybe he was just trying to make me the man he wanted me to be and after I stood up to him, he finally realized it wasn't going to happen. So I gave the old prick something at least and it was enough for him to finally stop struggling, to stop putting himself through so much pain and let go."

Joel shut his eyes again and Shaw realized he was doing that to keep back the tears.

“I met Sam after you guys left," announced the bull, a little smile crossing his lips.

“That artist? Why was he at the hospital? Is he sick?"

“No. He goes there and does portraits for the people for free. Makes them happy. He's really good." Joel's smile grew a little bigger. “He told me that we can never change people's minds and we can never really know what they are thinking. But we can choose how we remember them."

Joel opened his eyes again and turned to Shaw, a weak but genuine smile on his face. “And… I choose to think that my old man decided to let go after seeing that I didn't need him."

Could've put it a little more tactfully but I guess I'll take it.

Joel let out a little yawn and rested his head on the window. “I'm… I'm just going to take a little nap. Wake me when we get there."

Shaw nodded in confirmation and drove as gently as he could as Joel drifted to a well-deserved slumber. The bull was… doing okay. The wound was still raw but it was not as painful as it was before. There was a lot of unfinished things to be said but they would never be resolved. Not now. Closure was not guaranteed in life but Joel chose not to let the specter of his father haunt him for the rest of his life.

He couldn't help but draw on the parallels between himself and Liam.

For so long, he had let Liam overshadow him, consume him. The skunk had defined him. Tried to make him into who he should be and constantly criticized him for not being that person. Eventually, Liam had enough and took the plunge into cheating with someone else. That shattered Shaw and left him wallowing in despair for two weeks. Joel could have easily fallen into the same pit but, unlike Shaw, there were others around him ready to lift him up.

And he has me.

They arrived at Cash's home within thirty minutes and he gently woke Joel. The bull sleepily got out of the car and followed him not up to the beach house but beyond it, down to the actual beach. The sun was just starting to set and the guys had already started the little bonfire.

“Look who's alive!" bellowed Amos.

Killian got up from where he was sitting and dashed to Joel, holding him in a tight hug. “Are you okay, hermano?"

“I'm fine," Joel croaked. His eyes looked past the otter and down at the flame where his friends and lovers were gathered. “What is this?"

Killian, showing off that smile that could light up a room, slipped away from the hug but still held onto Joel's hand, pulling him towards the fire.

“You can think of it as a wake," replied the otter gently. “Let's bitch about your dad. Drink a shit tonne of cheep booze. Then toast to him because, even though he was a total asshole, he gave us the hot Grade A slab of beef that is Joel Rockham."

A genuine smile tugged at Joel's lips. “You guys…"

“Thank Shaw," Erick announced, nodding at the bear beside him. “It was his idea."

Joel

The topic of Batholomew Rockham was put aside for the moment as all the guys gathered around the circle. Cash had packed them some sandwiches, correctly deducing that none of them had dinner yet. With his house so close by and being an aspiring gourmet chef, the lion had prepared some hearty meals. When Joel bit into the juicy roast beef sandwich, he expected it to taste like ash - a bitter reminder of his father's smoking habit and the lung cancer that had taken both his parents. However, it was delicious. He could taste the beefiness of the meat, the crispness of the onions and the salty-sweet butter that melted in his mouth. It went down well with the cheap beer that Amos had brought with him. A few sodas were also on offer which Shaw partook in.

Part of him thought he should be sadder. He had just lost his father less than twenty-four hours ago. A father he genuinely loved even if he didn't like the guy. Maybe he should be crying for longer and feeling the effects of mourning for a few more days. But he just… didn't feel so sad that he would shutdown.

Does that make me a bad person?

No. That wasn't entirely true. He had shutdown. After he got the news.

Chatter around him was fairly casual. Just talking about their day. The secondary team was looking after the bar again as they all understood that Joel just had a tragedy in the family. None of them broached the topic of Bart even though he could tell that they were all very aware of the teetering sword hovering over their heads. They wanted to talk, to comfort him, but none of them wanted to be the first to broach the subject.

Well… better start…

“So," he coughed. “My dad was a real bastard."

All talk immediately stopped and all eyes went straight to him.

Joel offered a little smile as he peered around the bonfire. “I mean that. He is the illegitimate son of some guy in Wisconsin. 'Rockham' wouldn't even be his real name. He just made it up when he was old enough and joined the military. Made it official too." He leaned back, resting his hands on the sands behind him. “I'm sure you guys have been wondering where my grandparents were when I was kicked out of house and home at the tender age of eighteen and had to take care of myself. Answer is, they didn't even know I existed. Didn't even care to know me. Dad had me when he was in his forties. They were already in their sixties and had kids of their own. By the time I was old enough to be kicked out, they were in their eighties. Couldn't do anything if they wanted to and I didn't want to bother them."

“Where does 'Rockham' come from?" asked Shaw.

“Who the fuck knows," Joel answered with a shrug. “I asked him and he would always tell me to shut up. My project during middle school about my family tree wasn't even a branch. It was a goddamn leaf because Bart Rockham would not talk about anyone else."

“I remember the first time I met him," announced Amos. The crimson dragon took a sip from his beer, let out a sigh of contentment and then set it down in the sand in front of him. “It was in college. You brought him over to show him what you were studying. We weren't even seeing each other then."

Joel beamed at the memory and he lifted his beer, using the bottle's neck to point at Amos. “Right! He was mouthing off about me being gay and taking business of all things so I could open my own strip club because I was getting up there and wasn't 'prime beef' anymore. Then he spotted you and announced loudly that you were a real man."

Amos laughed, slapping his knee. “I was trying so hard to be invisible."

“You?" blurted Erick. “You've got to be shitting me. You couldn't make yourself invisible if you were half chameleon!"

The dragon elbowed his friend and continued the story. “I heard your old man shouting about how much he hated gays and telling you that it was about time you stopped sucking dick for cash. Kept calling everyone in the room a…"

“Liberal Faggot!" agreed Joel. “The death stares he got… Phew!" He made a motion of wiping his brow. “Then he saw you, saw how big you were, and marched on over and demanded to know why a 'big guy like you wasn't in the military'. Then he started trying to recruit you! Talked about benefits and all that shit!"

Amos grinned brightly. “Then I straighted and he saw my shirt." The dragon cast his gaze around the camp fire waggling his eyebrows. “My black tank top that a big, colorful, gay pride flag plastered all over it." He laughed, triggering everyone else to echo the laughter. “He practically turned around and ran out of the lecture theater! It was the first time we actually met!"

Everyone's laughing.

Joel watched and listened as each of his friends asked follow-up questions about his father. It occurred to him that this was the first time that they were exchanging 'war stories' about his dad. The topic had always been so taboo even though he had never explicitly said never to speak about Bart. Even he avoided the topic when possible. In fact, when he had rushed out of Dorian's place after waking up with Shaw in his arms, he had been purposefully evasive.

Maybe if I had told him what I was doing, who I was going to see, my dad would still be here…

… alive.

“I remember when I met him!" Killian said, visibly shuddering but still grinning.

“At his place and with the guns?" Shaw asked.

“You got it! I was riding with Joel." The otter stood up. “I was wearing this shockingly revealing denim short shorts. Like you could clearly see my ass and the only thing hiding my crack was my tail." For emphasis, he turned his back to them. “Oh, and this fishnet tank top. I was going to this gig in a hurry and Joel mentioned that his dad had some original CDs from Linkin Park. I was in a rush but I knew that would be a hit for my gig."

“How the hell did you two end up there?" asked Dorian. “Why didn't Joel just get it for you while you started warming up?"

Killian turned and just gave a shrug. “Fucked if I know, hermano! We just ended up at his door and I was there, standing beside this puta, asking his old man for his CDs!" The otter glared at each of them in turn. “The look he gave me felt like he was taking a fucking potato peeler to my fur!"

Joel threw his head back and laughed. “God… You know he didn't have to mention his gun collection but he just had to take you to the room where he had it. Just to show you who is boss."

The otter sat back down, legs crossed. “Yeah. He was a real homophobic ass. When you told him that we were sleeping together with the others, he basically threw us out. I worked so hard to gush over his CD collection." Killian picked up his beer. “Say what you will about him. Bart Rockham had good taste in music." He lifted the bottle to his lips and then just had to snipe one last comment. “For his age."

A grin was spreading across Joel's lips. “Okay. Who's next?"

I needed this.

It surprised him that Dorian had asked a follow up question on Killian's story. Once again, he was reminded that the topic of his homophobic father was so taboo even amongst his group that none of them really shared any of the intimate details with one another. Just the basics. The shadow of his Bartholomew Rockham was so long and deep that it had affected the other members too.

“I think I was the first guy Joel actually took him to see," admitted Erick, tilting his head to the side. “Back then, I didn't dye my hair and I wasn't nearly as big. Was a little pudgy, actually." Erick laughed and slapped his belly. To his credit, it didn't ripple or shake. That was hard muscle beneath that belly. “You guys remember the story, right?"

The other guys at JACKED. Only Shaw shook his head.

“What happened?" asked the polar bear. “You didn't tell me."

Erick grimaced and rolled his eyes. “Okay. So it was… maybe five years ago? We are about the graduate college with our degrees." Just to set the scene, the wolf lowered his sandwich and was making hand gestures to show just how serious he was about setting the scene. “By then, all six of us had agreed to opening JACKED and we had gone over the drama of figuring out what we were, how much we cared about one another and who fucked who on what days. But breaking it to everyone else we knew was another thing. We all decided that we'd tell Joel's dad first because we knew he'd be the worst of it. If we can get through whatever he'd throw at us, we can get through anything."

Despite the gravity of the story, Erick was still smiling. “We decided to play it fair. We drew straws. The deal was that if you were there to confess our feelings to the affected party, you would not have to be there for any subsequent confessions. Naturally, the person that was closest to the party wouldn't have their name picked."

Shaw pointed at Erick. “So when it came to Bart, it came down to you going with Joel?"

“Oh yeah…" Erick chortled. “We went to this pool club. Bart was smoking, naturally. Place smelled like ash. Hated it. But there we were. Joel, me and Bart." Erick held up a finger. “First thing out Bart's muzzle. I swear. First thing…"

“Are you two fucking?" Joel taunted in his best, raspy, Bartholomew Rockham impression. A ripple of laughed ran through the gathered group. By now, they were all familiar with the bull's rasp.

“I froze," Erick blurted. “Me! I froze. I didn't know what to say! It was downhill from there. He listened to us. Told him that the six of us were going to open a gay bar together. That we weren't just business partners but lovers as well. Tried to assuage his fears about us. We played a few rounds of pool as we went through it. I lost. Each game. I hate pool. He stayed silent through it all and didn't say anything until it was about time to leave."

“What did he say?" pressed Shaw.

“He just told us to 'do whatever you fucking want'," Erick said, with a shrug. “Honestly, it could've been worse. First time seeing the guy and there I was, trying to explain to him logically about how I felt, how much I loved his son and all you other guys and he didn't say a goddamn fucking word!" Erick pressed his fingers to his lips and absently kissed them, sending the gesture into the stars above their heads. “Peak intimidation! Wherever you are, Bart Rockham, know you had me shitting my pants!"

Joel snickered. “If there's anyone that could make you do that, huh?"

“Even when he was in his bed a year ago, he was still intimidating," agreed Cash, the lion shaking his head. “I was the last to meet him in person and that did not buy us any points."

The JACKED guys all exchanged glances and winced. After their poor impressions, Joel had purposefully avoided introducing Cash to his dad. He never saw the point. But when his dad was hospitalized for late-stage cancer, he thought it was just appropriate. Of course, Bart Rockham pounced on that sign of weakness. Immediately after Joel introduced Cash, Bart began accusing him of being too scared to introduce him to his 'fairy husbands' and that immediately transitioned into more homophobic slurs. Cash could barely get a word in before they left.

“I do feel sorry for the guy," sighed Cash. “I suppose we did him dirty by waiting so long to introduce me. He knew there were six of us and only ever met four out of the five guys that Joel was with. And to introduce him when he had a death sentence…"

“Wouldn't be hard to think a proud man like that wanted to lash out at the world," agreed Shaw. “Not saying how he reacted was good but I can kind of get where he was coming from."

Joel's eyes drifted to the fire. He could still see his father's raging eyes in the flame. Passionate. That was one way to describe Bartholomew Rockham. Bart knew how to use his passion whether it be to lash out at everyone like he did with Amos, leave it as a quiet seething laser like with Killian, leave it cold and simmering like the chill he gave Erick or the wild rampaging fury that he unleashed upon Cash. Bartholomew Rockham was more complicated than Joel gave him credit for.

“Maybe he wasn't as basic as I thought," he admitted, exchanging glances with each of his friends. “Still a stubborn bull if ever there was one."

“I won't say he was a great man," agreed Dorian. “But he gave us you, Joel. Don't think he ever intended you to be a cock-sucking, man-fucking, bartender that works at a gay bar for hot men and is in a polyamorous relationship but I'm going to say that's a good thing. His bullshit made you into the man you are today, a guy that knows how to avoid that sort crap."

Joel grinned at the comment, surprising even himself at the genuine smile. He pulled the shark towards him and gave him a little peck on the cheek. “You fucking softie. Any sweeter and your cum would be soft serve."

“There he is!" bellowed Amos, laughing brightly and holding up his beer. “Welcome back, buddy!"

“Never left," Joel agreed, reaching towards his burly lover and tapper their bottles against one another. They both took a little sip. “Just needed to get over the shock of my dad's death." A javelin smashed into his heart and was twisted by the unseen force of reality. Uttering the words that reminded him of his father's absence would take some getting used to but as he breathed out, he pushed that blade from his chest, let it bleed a little before willing it closed. “I think it was the whiplash that really got me."

When given a curious look, he explained.

“Everything was going so well, you know? I felt free. I had walked away from his shadow and I was celebrating with my family. The family I chose. I even talked down Liam. I was feeling good. Then, I get the call…" Joel shook his head. “It was like I was soaring high just above the Cliffs… then I fell." His eyes drifted towards the sheer rock formations that gave Golden Cliffs its name. “And since I was flying so high, the fall hurt so goddamn much. Felt like I was dying."

Then he let out a little laugh. “Should've known you assholes would never let me go like that."

“That's fucking right!" roared Dorian. “You're gonna die in a twelve-man orgy with a two cocks in your ass, drowning in cum, in a grassy field and bathed in moonlight!" He took a sip from his drink and shrugged. “Or, you know, surrounded by the people you love. Whatever."

He grinned and hugged the shark a little more tightly. Then, with his other arm, he pulled Cash - who was next to him - closer and held the lion close as well.

“Thank you, guys. Really. I mean that."

“Thank Shaw," Amos added. “This whole thing was his idea."

He peered across the flame at Shaw who was doing his full-body blush again.

“Yeah," he agreed. “How could I ever forget the one guy that actually got me to stand up against my dad and finally showed this forty-year-old bull that I had to stop being a goddamn calf."

He smiled affectionately at the cola as he got up, worked his way around the bonfire and sat himself beside the bear. “Thanks, Shaw."

Shaw intertwined his fingers with Joel's. “We're all here for you, Joel." Then his lips twisted like he had just tasted something bitter. Joel noticed that some of the other guys were leaning forward in anticipation.

What's going on?

Then Shaw said, “Through cum as thick as glue or lube as watery as piss…" He immediately gagged. “Goddamnit! There! I said it!"

Joel's face immediately soured.

Killian roared in laughter while Amos fell on his back, kicking his feet into the air.

“He said it!" laughed the dragon, clutching his abdomen. “I told you I could get him to fucking say it!"

“I hate you both," Shaw growled.

Joel let out a little chuckle and squeezed the bear's paw lightly. “You're really one of us now. Welcome to the gang."

The bear's features softened as he locked gazes with Joel, the firelight dancing across his glasses and clear, green eyes. “Your dad would just love that, right? Joining a gang?"

Joel chuckled softly and picked up the beer he had brought over. “Would probably have some kind words about that. But…" He stood up, gently pulling Shaw up with him. “… My dad was a colossal asshole. He had a hard life. He was cruel. Brash. Had no filter. But I loved him. And no matter how much he hated the man that I had become, it was because of him that I am who I am today. That I'm here with six of the sexiest, most caring and loving men I am lucky to have in my life. So…"

He lifted his bottle into the air.

“… Here's to Bartholomew Rockham. The asshole who shit me out but you guys polished into a diamond."

The other guys cheered and they all toasted to the late memory of Bartholomew Rockham.

Joel gazed up into the sky, watching the skies twinkle gently. He chose to believe that, wherever Bart was, the old man was scowling and spitting at them for crediting him for bringing seven guys together in homoerotic union. But, through all that bile and vitriol, Bart still smiled inwardly because for the first time in his life, his one and only son stood on his own two feet.

Thanks dad.

Shaw

“Shaw! Shaw! Wake up!"

A soft groan left Shaw's muzzle and he instinctively rolled away from the sound. As he did so, he took a breath of derision and immediately felt sand shoot up his nostrils. The tingling made him sneeze and triggered primal instincts that snapped him awake. Through blurry eyes, he could just barely make out the pink and orange light of dawn off in the horizon. The sound of lapping waves sang out in the background.

Did… Did I sleep over at Cash's place again?

Did we bring sand up?

He started to recall what happened the previous night.

The bonfire he had arranged with the guys turned out well. Joel responded well. Though he was sure that the scar over his father's abrupt death would never heal, he nevertheless was on the way to recovery. After a few more drinks and some smores, the gang decided to retire back to Cash's home. Shaw had purposefully arranged for them to have the bonfire close to the beach house for the express purpose of all of them crashing at the lion's luxurious home right after.

Except…

… not all of them had gone back.

Joel had asked Shaw to stay with him awhile as they put out the fire and cleaned up. They lingered in the darkness, letting their eyes adjust and then…

“Aw crap…" he groaned softly. “I've got sand all over my balls…"

They had sex. On the beach. Raw, unprotected, passionate sex. There was no denying it was incredibly hot and their passions overwhelmed them but it also explained why he was currently naked on the beach, a beach towel barely covering him and his fur matted with cum.

“Shaw!"

He groped around for his glasses. There was a burst of fear from his chest as he wondered if he had accidentally crushed it in the previous night's passions or he had lost them in the sand. Thankfully, a pair of brown-furred hands gently applied the accessory to his face which allowed him to see his savior's face.

Joel was looking at him with concern and fear.

“Hey handsome," he rumbled softly. “Why the look?"

There was a brief look of relief on Joel's face then it immediately switched back to worry. “Dude, you're going to be late!"

“Huh?" was all he could manage.

“It's past seven! On a Tuesday! You're going to be late for work!"

A few cogs began ticking away in his brain. Joel was right. It was a Tuesday - a weekday and a work day - and he was very far from home. Even though he had a car, he would now have to get off the beach, get into his car, drive home, shower, get dressed and then rush back to work! Not to mention every new car-owner's worst nightmare - sand in the new upholstery.

“Come on!" Joel insisted, grabbing his paw with one thick arm and pressing a hand against his back to help him up. “If we get moving now, we can get you to your office just a little after nine."

“Where's my clothes?" he said groggily as he straightened. “My phone?"

Joel shoved a pile of his clothes into his arms. “Here. Come on."

But Shaw didn't move. Instead, he reached into the pile and found his phone. He quickly dialed a number. His manager picked up on the second ring.

“Shaw. Morning."

“Morning, sir," he greeted. “Sorry about the late notice, but I can't make it in today. I'm getting a new car and need to head to the dealership to finish off the paperwork."

Joel, who was already on his feet and completely naked, stared at him curiously.

His manager let out a booming laugh. “Already spending that bonus from the JACKED contract, eh?"

“I figured I needed to get a vehicle eventually. Been taking public transport all this time so I decided to have some agency, you know."

Again, his equine boss let out a laugh. “Sure. I getcha. With the contract signed anyway, we don't need you hunting new leads. Get that new car and don't let them pressure you into the peripherals. No matter what they say, you do not need a sunroof! You're in goddamn California! Just roll down your windows!"

Shaw returned a laugh and bid his manager a good day then hung up.

“There," he announced. “All taken care of."

Only then did he get up, naked and beaming at Joel. The bull gave him a little laugh and his lips quirked up in the corners.

“Look at you," commented Joel. “Lying to your manager."

“It wasn't a total lie. I do have a new car."

“Uh-huh. And what are you going to be doing for the rest of the day, huh?"

Still smiling, Shaw intertwined his fingers with Joel's and turned them both towards Cash's house. “Well, how about we start with breakfast. You can make me a mimosa."

Joel's eyes widened and, with his other hand, he gasped, placing the hand over his muzzle.

“No," Shaw corrected quickly. “I don't like mimosas. Not my favorite drink. Out of drinks you served me for breakfast, it was the only one I remembered because it tasted like an orange-flavored Le Croix. You can keep trying though."

Joel gave him a sour look though he was grinning. “Right. You just want free drinks for life."

“Are you complaining?" Shaw teased.

The bull leaned in and kissed his cheek lightly. “Of course not."

As Joel pulled away, they locked gazes. The warmth of the sunrise, it's pinks and oranges, cast a warm glow upon them. The light matched Joel's amber eyes perfectly, highlighting every muscle on his chiseled body and catching the flecks of gray on his muzzle and hair just enough to tease a his age while giving him an air of sophistication.

Shaw couldn't resist the pull and pressed his lips against Joel's. His hand curled around Joel's waist and pulled them together. Joel's own arms wrapped around his shoulders, holding one another in a tender embrace against the backdrop of a rising sun.

“Heeeeeeey!"

The moment was interrupted and they broke the kiss, both of them turning towards Cash's balcony. There, a very naked Killian was waving at them.

“Get your sweet asses up here!" shouted the otter. “Cash is making some fucking good pancakes!"

Joel's eyes glinted.

Shaw rolled his eyes.

Then, Joel cupped his hands around his muzzle, turning towards Killian.

“We'll be up in a jiffy!"

Joel

It was mostly a military affair.

Whatever else could be said about him, Bartholomew Rockham served his country well and was unquestionably loyal. Loyal to his country. Loyal to his comrades. Loyal to his wives - even if not all of them were loyal to him. Loyal to his son. The American flag was displayed everywhere in the small church and there were quite a few uniformed officers sitting in the pews. Family on Joel's mother's side attended but they were far and few in between leaving that side of the church mostly empty.

There were, of course, some other people that decided to attend.

Joel watched coolly as one of Bart's ex-wives - the one that had spawned a kid and tried to pass him off as Joel's half-brother - came in wearing a black pants suit like she was attending a congressional hearing not a funeral. Behind her was her son in a far more respectful black suit. They immediately made a beeline for Joel who was standing by the guest registry.

“Joel," the cow greeted coolly. “How have you been?"

Forcing a smile, Joel said, “Better."

Her eyes watering with crocodile tears, she pressed a hand against her chest and let out a soft sigh. “When I first heard of Bart's passing, I was so heartbroken."

Cash, who had been standing right beside Joel, said. “He died two weeks ago."

She shot him a piercing stare. “I'm sorry. I don't think we've met. Are you his…?" She flicked an ear at Joel.

“Husband? No. Business partner and co-owner of the bar we own together." A little bit of a cooler edge entered her eyes. Joel wasn't sure where the hostility came from. “But yes, we do fuck. A lot."

He could see the faintest twitch of a smile touch her lips. “Oh. That's nice." Her eyes drifted back towards Joel. “Anyway, I would have come sooner but we're all very busy, you know." She stepped aside and gently pushed her son forward. “This is Colin. He's your half-brother."

The bull had black fur, a cross-shaped crest of white on his forehead and had the same blond hair as his mother. Though his eyes were brown, they were not the same lighter brown that could be mistaken for gold of amber that Joel or Bart possessed. He was also quite skinny, a little lanky even. The suit was basically wearing him.

He could not be farther from Bart Rockham if he was a another species.

It sickened him that this bitch would bring up the old argument that Colin was his half-brother when she cheated on Bart and produced an offspring from another man. Her attempts to worm her way back into their lives had died down in the past and it honestly surprised him that she hadn't attempted to try while Bart was sick.

This is not the time to argue about familial bonds.

Joel stuck out his hand towards Colin. “Joel."

Colin shook his hand. The man's fingers were cold and clammy. “Colin."

“He's a lawyer, you know," the mother boasted haughtily.

Oh boy. Here we go.

“Good for you," Joel responded with a thin smile. “Shall we cut through the bullshit and talk about the inheritance or would you rather wait until my dad and your ex-husband is six feet under before we start arguing about how to divide his estate. Because I'll tell you I don't -"

The mother looked about ready to explode but Colin quickly interjected.

“Let me stop you right there, Mr. Rockham," said the lawyer, squeezing Joel's hand tightly, his brown eyes sharp. “I advise you not to say another word."

“Excuse me?" Joel began. “You come to my dad's funeral and -"

“It is my duty to inform you that, according to your later father's will, all of his assets go to his 'last living immediate blood relative'," Colin said sharply. “Now, I do not know how much you know about your father, but he was an orphan and legally emancipated himself from any connection with his birth parents. You had no siblings and neither did he. So that means that you are his only blood relation and a hundred-percent of his assets will go to you."

The mother grabbed her son's arm and tried to pull him away. “Colin! What are you doing?"

“My job," hissed the bull, never letting his eyes leave Joel. “How you choose to divide those assets is entirely up to you. However, I must ask if you had a chance to review his last will and testament."

Joel admitted that the will and inheritance was the last thing on his mind. With JACKED entering a new phase, he had been busy with work as well as arranging this funeral. Reaching out to people - especially the military - had been difficult particularly because Bart had basically locked himself away from almost everyone. The only reason Joel even bore any connection with him was because he forced himself back into Bart's life. If he didn't love his dad so much, he wouldn't even have known the man had cancer or died until it was too late.

“I haven't," he said.

Colin's features softened lightly. “Then it may interest you to know that he actually made two wills. One dictated that he assets be donated entirely to the military. The other said that it goes to you. By default, the one indicating that the military would be the primary benefactor was the one to be enacted unless your father gave his lawyers a specific command. That command was issued about two weeks ago."

Joel's brow furrowed.

He… He told his lawyers to give everything to me…?

“He shouldn't have maintained power of attorney," the woman huffed. “He was in pain and clearly not of sound mind or body. It should be null and void. His assets should be equally divided between his sons."

“I am not his son," hissed Colin. “Stop insisting that." He wrenched his arm away from her. “Joel, I don't care if you believe me or not. But I read that will. I was forced to." He shot his mother a piercing stare that made her back away. The cow huffed, announced something about being in the car, turned and stormed off.

“Bitch…" Cash muttered softly.

“Even bitches produce drinkable milk," rumbled Colin angrily. “Anything she produces is sour." Then he turned back to Joel, his features softening. “Your dad said in his will that he would give everything he owned to, and I quote, 'the most loyal, devoted and committed man he knew'." He let out a soft laugh and shook his head, finally releasing Joel's hand. “I don't know what you did to prove to a Marine that you were that loyal, especially to a Marine that was divorced multiple times because his partners cheated on him but if I can be half the man you are, maybe he could've called me his son as well."

Joel inclined his head slightly. “What happened to your actual dad?"

Colin shrugged absently. “Don't know. Some other soldier. He provided us child support when I was growing up but the minute I was old enough not to need it, he cut all ties from us. It's why mom has been so desperate to keep you guys in our lives. She needs that lifeline."

Damn… I can see where this is going.

“Anyway," Colin said, nodding respectfully towards Joel. “I just wanted you to know that and to give you fair warning that my mom is going to be trying some shady shit. I've got your back but just want you to be careful too. She's got a couple of sisters who have some pretty good-looking sons. She might not be able to get in through the 'immediate blood relative' clause but if she can worm her way in by making her a mother-in-law or even an aunt-in-law, she'll try."

Did he just say those sons are good-looking? His own cousins?

He quickly threw a glance at Cash who gave him a little frown and lifted eyebrows.

Colin turned to leave. “Thanks for hearing me out. My condolences."

“Wait," Joel said quickly. “How long are you going to be in town?"

“Couple more days. Why?"

Joel hiked a thumb over his shoulder, a little smile on his lips. “We own a bar downtown. Why don't we have a drink? Bitch about your mom a bit. I know a guy who had a toxic ex that would not let go. Made it everyone else's problem. Drinks on us."

The young bull gave him a little smile. “You know what? Sounds fun. Send me the address."

Joel gave the bull the address to his bar. Not long after, the priest told him that the ceremony was ready. He shut the doors and moved up to the front of the aisle. Killian and Dorian were already there, heads bowed in respect. The priest began with a quick parable and then went off about Bartholomew Rockham's stellar military service and his loyalty to his country.

Loyalty… What did he mean about that?

He always called me 'flighty'.

But… Loyal?

Dorian nudged him and when he looked up, he realized that the priest was looking at him expectantly. It was his turn to speak.

Shit… Thanks dad. Just like you to throw me a fucking surprise at your own goddamn funeral.

He made his way up to the lectern, the microphone hovering over his lips. Dozens of eyes were looking to him, waiting for the words of Bartholomew Rockham's only son. His eyes drifted to the piece of paper where Shaw had helped him prepare a respectful but still honest and true speech. The power of a marketer's mind.

A little smile touched his lips at that thought.

But he decided to fold the paper up and look directly to the crowd. From the corner of his eyes, he could see Killian wince and grip Cash and Dorian's knees tightly.

“My dad," he began. “Bartholomew Rockham. Bart to many of you. I think he was called 'Camel' in his squad because he smoked so many cigarettes that he reminded everyone in his unit of that camel in front of the Malboro packets."

A little chuckle went through the crowd, especially the military attendees. Shaw and Erick had done a lot of research into Bart's life to use as ammo in this very speech. Joel was grateful for that little fact at the very least.

“To many he was a hero," Joel continued. “A comrade. A colleague. A brother-in-arms. But to me…"

He could hear Dorian suck in air through his prosthetic teeth.

To me…

“… he was just 'dad'."

His three friends and lovers visibly relaxed.

“He was tough. He didn't always approve of everything I did. In fact, I think the last time he actually approved of me was when I learned how to shit by myself and even then it came through an email because he was deployed and it was addressed to my mom. All he said was, 'Good'."

Another little ripple of laughter.

“But that's the kind of man he was. If you did something he didn't like, he'd tell you about it. He knew how to make you piss your pants. He could shout at you like a drill sergeant, glower at you menacingly with all the intensity of a sniper about to blow your brains out or guide you through his house while reminding you about his gun collection and how he could kill a man with his thumb."

More laughter and Killian joined in though his chuckle was a little nervous.

“The thing is," Joel mused. “Everyone goes through the phase in their life where they want to rebel against their parents. So at some point in my life, I started to stop doing what my dad approved of and I found myself on the receiving end of his rants. I got all facets of him. Angry military man frothing at the mouth with every hateful word. Quiet, disappointed father who barely said a word and just told me to 'do whatever the fuck I want' with that little carrot dangling at the end promising me that he'll like me again if I did what he wanted." Joel laughed softly and shook his head. “He gave me so many tours of his house, reminding me of all the people he saved, of what a real man was meant to be and my own mom so many times I could go through it blind folded. Hell, if I close my eyes, I can still hear his speech like I'm going through a museum listening to the audio tour."

Joel closed his eyes and paused a moment.

“Even until his last breath, I don't think he ever approved of me." His eyes opened, looking down mournfully at the closed casket. It made him smile how the portrait on display was Sam's artistic rendition of Bartholomew Rockham in his prime; frowning, looking stern and his features filled out and fit. The only difference with the original draft was the American flag billowing behind his father's portrait. The one thing that Joel had asked be changed.

“I became someone he didn't like. A queer man with no intention of having kids and owning a gay bar smack dab in the middle of a liberal city."

He gazed out into the crowd. Their faces were still. Something told him that many of them had been on the receiving end of Bartholomew Rockham's barbs. None of them would ever say anything about it, though. Especially at the man's funeral.

“Since I came out to him," Joel continued. “I don't think my dad ever liked me. He made sure to remind me every time I talked to him. But…" A little smile crawled onto his features and he started to fight back tears. “… but he never stopped loving me. In the last conversation I had with him, he told me so himself."

He let out a little laugh, choking a little. Even though it had been two weeks since that day, he still felt the pain; that barbed javelin piercing his heart. But with each passing day, he became better and better and pushing out that spear and closing the wound.

“He told me he didn't like me but he will always love me," Joel surmised. “And I think that's really what Bartholomew Rockham comes down to. A man with so much love to give that he wanted to make sure everyone he cares about is able to stand on their own two feet and remain loyal to themselves. His hurtful words were there to make us better. Not the most effective way to encourage young developing minds but I owe everything I am to him. I may not have liked it but he made me the man I am today."

His eyes drifted once again to the coffin. “At least that's how I choose to remember him. Even if he's up there in Heaven telling me I'm wrong and to go fuck myself for the faggot I've become…" He got a little gasp of surprise from the use of the 'f-slur'. He didn't look into the faces of the crowd as his gaze was turned to the ceiling. “… I'll never stop loving you, dad."

He let out a little chuckle, one tear running down his cheek. “My daddy issues are because of you. I love you."

Shaw

“Ready?"

Erick nodded.

“One…" announced Amos.

“Two," echoed the wolf.

“Three!" Shaw exclaimed.

Then, as one, all three men moved.

Amos lifted one end of the king-sized bed and Erick lifted the other. Shaw quickly moved, draping the fitted sheet over one edge of the bed and making sure it was secure before moving to the other corner.

“Would you kindly hurry the fuck up!?" Erick growled.

“You can hold on for a little longer, Mr. Powerlifter," Shaw teased, draping his new fitted sheet into place. “And done!"

Two of the biggest men amongst the JACKED crew lowered the bed into place with a groan.

“Fucking finally!" exclaimed Amos, stretching his wings but being careful not to know over the new shelves that Shaw had gotten. “I need to make a new goddamn exercise. Fitted Sheet Fitting or something because that was a goddamn pain!"

“It's because the mattress isn't a solid weight," Erick grumbled, flicking his wrists in annoyance. “It's constantly moving in your grip so you can't get a proper posture." The wolf grinned however as he placed his paws on his hips and looked around the room. “But we're finally done!"

Shaw placed his new pillows and blanket onto his new bed and took a step back, taking in his new bedroom. It had taken a bit of time to get all the new furniture in but after two weeks, he was indeed finally done. Though he was loathed to get rid of his old furniture, he was reminded that a lot of the stuff that surrounded his bed was to Liam's tastes. Everything was so artsy with abstract paintings hanging from the walls and weirdly shaped shelves.

He hated them.

After a bit of shopping with Amos and Erick, he purchased some furniture that was more to his liking. The shelves were straight, solid and had enough room for some figurines that he had started collecting. Though mostly empty, he could already see them filling up with his hobbies. Posters and promotional banners of the videogames that he loved and admired hung on the walls. There was actually a desk in the corner where his laptop sat and he could work from home if he wanted. The bed had also been upgraded from a queen to a king - cuddling with a big boy like Amos or Erick demanded a king-sized bed at least. He had also mounted another TV at the wall facing the foot of his bed. Liam said the bedroom was for sleep not TV.

After weeks, he had reclaimed his bedroom.

Though I will be sad not to be crashing at the guys' places every night.

We had so much fun. Like an infinite sleepover.

Though I guess now they can sleep over at my place.

Amos let out a loud sigh and flopped face first into the bed, moaning softly. “Oh god… this thing is so soft!"

“Dude!" Erick shouted. “You're covered in sweat! We just washed those sheets!"

Shaw laughed heartily. “Come on, it's fine. If I wash my sheets every time we get hot and sweaty, the building will hate me for using the laundry room too often."

The large wolf relaxed a little and sat down at the edge of the bed. “Speaking of hot and sweaty…" He pumped his eyebrows suggestively. “How about a celebratory blowjob?"

“Hey," Shaw warned, pointing at the wolf cautiously. “I already gave you that BJ. We fixed up my room too. I don't owe you anything."

Erick folded his ears back and pushed out his lower lip while tilting his head to the side in a vain attempt at a puppy dog pout. It lost its effectiveness given that the head of the so-called 'puppy' was planted on the thick neck of a powerlifter with arms that could crush a watermelon.

“Pwease?" he whimpered. “You did such a good job last time."

Shaw rolled his eyes. He was already getting a reputation amongst the guys for giving the best head. Not that he minded. Getting intimate with each of them - sometimes with more than one guy at any time - was just one of the ways they showed affection for one another.

“Keep it in your pants," Shaw chastised and bent down, picking up some of the boxes around the room. “Let's get this stuff out of here before the others arrive."

“Just let me sleeeeeeep!" moaned Amos.

“You're tired?" mocked Erick. “What else did you do today apart from this?"

“We went to the gym," supplied Shaw, moving to the common area with the boxes in his arms. “Turns out, our friendly red dragon needs to do a lot more cardio. I can run laps around him!"

Which is saying something since I'm still overweight but it's a nice ego boost to know that I can do that.

“I'm heavier than you!" moaned Amos. “I've also got more limbs! It's harder for me to run on the treadmill!"

Erick roared in laughed and peeled Amos off the bed as they began packing up the remaining boxed around the room. They barely got half of the boxes out when a buzz came from Shaw's phone.

“Joel and the others are here," he announced.

“So soon?" Erick asked, setting down the boxes he had in his arms. “Please don't tell me they got kicked out of the funeral." He groaned, running a paw down his face. “He better not have improvised his speech. We spent so much goddamn time on that thing!"

A few late nights trying to research everything they could about Bart Rockham and crafting a speech that was both respectful but also truthful had left both men quite stressed and tired. Erick scrolled through the internet for anything he could find about Bart but the man barely used social media. Shaw had pooled all his marketing experience to make the speech as inoffensive as possible while still making sure to convey Joel's true feelings about his dad.

They exchanged glances, exasperated expressions on their faces as they imagined a group of very angry military veterans chasing Joel, Killian, Cash and Dorian out of the church. This glance was interrupted when Amos stepped in between them, eyes on Shaw.

“So are you letting them in or what?" asked the dragon.

“Right," Shaw mumbled. He buzzed the four men in and a few minutes later, there was a knock on the door. When he opened it, he was somewhat relieved to find all four guys still dressed in their suits, every garment intact and no egg dripping from their bodies. “You're here early."

“We skipped the wake afterwards," Joel said, stepping into the apartment and past Shaw. “We already gave my dad his farewell. I don't want his ghost getting an inflated ego and then thinking he's better than whatever God can put up with his sour ass."

Killian stepped up to Shaw and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Don't worry. He didn't use your speech but he was pretty respectful. Funny. Got a few laughs out of people. But still spoke with his heart and even teared up a little. He's good."

Relief washed over Shaw as he followed Joel into the bedroom.

“Sweet job, you guys," exclaimed the bull, spreading his arms wide. “This looks really damn awesome"

“Still say you could've moved in me with," rumbled Cash.

“You're just lonely in that huge mansion of yours," teased Dorian. “And you loved having a roommate."

The lion glanced away and blushed a little but didn't say anything.

“Don't worry, Cash," Shaw began with a bright grin. “How about you and I be the first to break in the bed tonight?"

Cash's tail did a few loops in the air while the other guys announced their protests.

Joel, however, interrupted them all by hollering at all of them to shut up. The big bull stepped forward towards Shaw and held up a little, shiny, silver key.

“Shaw," he began evenly. “Do you know what this is?"

He knew what it was but still, he couldn't resist a cheep jab. “The key to the chastity belt you have on your crotch keeping you from cumming until after your dad's funeral."

Joel gave him a bitter look. “Firstly, don't tempt me. I haven't jacked off in days." Using the key as a pointer, he gestured at each of the guys. “You're all milking me in shifts. No questions. I've got a schedule." Then his eyes rested on Shaw. “And secondly, stop being a smartass. This is serious. You know what this is."

Shaw beamed brightly, his stomach doing somersaults. “I do."

“Well?" Joel said. “Hold out your paw, dumbass!"

He did, holding out both his paws like he was about to take the Holy Eucharist. Joel happily deposited the silver key on his palm, the word 'JACKED' emblazoned on the side of the key.

It was the key to the bar.

“Welcome to JACKED!"

Epilogue

Joel

The sign read 'Grand Reopening'.

It took many months but at long last, JACKED was reopening as a gastro-pub. Local celebrities were scheduled to make an appearance and endorse the club-slash-gastro-pub that had a strong vibe of hot, gay men but catered to everyone. A local band was playing on the refurbished stage. The kitchen was pumping out exceptional appetizers that were being devoured to rave reviews. The lines stretched across the street.

Joel was bolting all across the bar, serving drinks and still putting on a show just to make sure everyone was entertained. Every now and then, he would stop and take a #SipSelfie with a patron and tell them to use the QR code temporarily tattooed on his bare pectoral to tag the bar's social media. Men, women and everyone in between loved the energy and atmosphere.

JACKED had entered a new era.

And he was excited to see where it would go into the future. Killian had already floated the idea of selling the assets he had received from his dad to build another location in Golden Cliffs' sister city. Joel didn't want to touch his inheritance quite yet. Monica Cowls - that woman who had intercepted him at Bart's funeral - was prowling around trying to sniff out a way she could get her hands on it. As much as he didn't want the inheritance, more and more, he was getting the idea that Bart truly did love him in his own way and though he could never express it in words, this - and the choice he made with his will - showed the truth of how he felt.

Not to mention he saw Colin Cowls dancing amongst the crowd grinding his crotch against a thick, hairy muskrat wearing leather gear while pouring beer down the man's back.

Yeah, Colin was gay.

Step-brother fantasies aside, what were the odds?

“Joel! Hey Joel!"

He glanced at the sound of his own name and found a handsome polar bear waving at him, using his impressive bulk to work his way through the crowd. A natural gravity brought him across the bar to Shaw Feng.

In the months since they had first met, Shaw had really taken to Amos' training well - much like each one of the co-owners. Joel found it absolutely hilarious that Shaw had more endurance for cardio than the bodybuilding Amos and could run laps around Erick's powerlifter build. Shaw had even started swimming with Dorian on weekends. Polar bears were excellent swimmers, after all. This had a dramatic effect on Shaw.

The chubby bear had toned down and his shoulders had broadened. Powerful pectorals were now clearly visible beneath the black 'Bower Bodybuilding' tank top he wore, even making the straps nearly vanish against his traps and thick fur. His belly, while still present, had flatted out and no longer extended past his chest, instead becoming like a third plateau decorated by six powerful plates of abdominals. When Shaw waved his arm through the air, Joel could clearly see the network of veins that was visible across his forearm and that one thick one that ran up his bicep that the bull absolutely loved running his tongue along.

Perhaps the most drastic change was the fact that Shaw had discarded the clean-cut look that made him look like he was a high school freshman. Though he kept his glasses, his hair was no longer spiked with a lot of hair product and was cropped short with a nice fade, exposing his ears while the top of his head was allowed to follow its natural curls making them look like dark, swirling vortexes against his creamy, white fur. As his hair faded, though, there was a contrast against his closely-trimmed and groomed chinstrap beard. Killian had given him tips on looking fabulous and the beard was initially there to hide his double chin but after it had gone once he lost weight, he decided to keep it because it gave him a more mature and sexy look.

Joel agreed.

“Shaw!" he greeted. “You made it!"

“How could I not?" exclaimed the bear. “Everything looks great! And look at the social feeds!" He showed Joel his phone. “We're blowing up."

He still had to get used to Shaw saying 'we'. It made his stomach do flips every time he was reminded that Shaw was now one of the JACKED crew.

“Hell yeah!" the bull exclaimed. “We got to celebrate! What can I get ya?"

Shaw reached out and grabbed his wrist. “We've got a booth! Join us!"

Joel shook his head. “Dude, I've got so many drinks to serve."

“Just join us for a few minutes," insisted Shaw, his green eyes shimmering. “Valentino can hold the fort for that long, right?"

A quick glance at his vulpine bartender and the fox gave him a grin and a nod. “I'll bring you guys something nice!"

Joel shrugged and said, “Sure. Why the hell not?"

Shaw

Shaw led Joel through the crowd to the booth where the other co-owners were sitting. How a booth could fit all seven of them was a miracle but that was one of the major redesigns that he had spearheaded. It had taken months of long, hard work and speaking with their contacts to help with the redesign and rebranding of JACKED but eventually, they had succeeded.

It was a versatile space that could switch from the more open, well-lit and dining-friendly vibe to the darker, club aura that was more like the old JACKED. It helped that they now had a second floor which doubled their capacity. The bar originally had just a high roof that it was just wasted space. After consulting with an architect and some construction teams, they lowered the ceiling and gave themselves a second floor. It was also where the co-owners could have an actual office and break room for the employees.

It floored him that the guys that worked here often just took their breaks amongst the patrons.

“This is wild!" Dorian exclaimed, the shark grinning brightly. “We're so packed! Even the second floor is going nuts!"

“The kitchen is insanely busy," agreed Cash. “But we're keeping up with the orders! You were right, Shaw. Keeping the menu compact really helps our efficiency." He made slicing motions through the air with his paw. “Make good, quality food. We can experiment but we keep things focused."

Amos grabbed his shoulders with both hands and gave them a little squeeze. The dragon loved doing this. It was often a pretense for sex with him. A little 'massage' after workouts and next thing they knew, they were naked and fucking. Honestly, he didn't mind. He often used 'progress pics' and 'size comparisons' as a means to do the same with the dragon and Erick.

“And it's all because of you, bud!" laughed the dragon. “We're going to franchise this bitch!"

“I can just see it now," Killian swooned, his eyes glimmering. “A JACKED in every state. A celebration of the male physique and sexuality."

“Never took you for one to go in it for the money, Killer," taunted Erick.

The otter feigned offense, leaning back and pressing a paw against his chest. “Puta, please. Money means nothing to me. I just want to suck and fuck in every state!"

A ripple of laughter rang out amongst the owners. Shaw felt the dangle of the key to the establishment on his wrist where he had attached it to a retractable wire attached to a rainbow-colored wristband. He could not help but smile.

Then one of the waiters came over and handed them a drink. It was a simple beverage; light pink served in martini glasses with swirl of orange rind hanging on the lip of the glass.

“A cosmopolitan," Joel announced. “Simple but effective." He raised the glass and toasted it to the others. “Well boys, here we are and we are JACKED!"

“We are JACKED!" Shaw exclaimed with the others and clinked glasses with the others.

Then he took a sip.

His face fell.

“Huh."

“What?" Joel asked, smacking his lips. “No good? I think Valentino used a little too much cranberry juice. Little bitter."

“No…" Shaw admitted, a small smile coming across his muzzle even as his brow furrowed. He glanced around the table, locking gazes with each of the men he genuinely loved.

“I think I finally found my drink."

Each of the guys had different reactions.

Erick stopped himself from doing a spit take. Amos's jaw dropped open in shock. Dorian grinned from ear to ear. Killian gave him a knowing smirk and lifted his glass in acknowledgment. Cash cocked his head slightly while his gaze slowly drifted from Shaw to Joel.

Joel…

Joel was furious.

“Are you fucking killing me!?" roared the bull. “After all this time, all that work, your favorite drink is a goddamn cosmopolitan made by the assistant bartender!? What? Did he put crack in this shit!?" Joel was already getting out of his seat, eyes on the bar. “Where is that goddamn fox!? I'll -"

Shaw reached up, grabbed his arm and pulled him back into his seat. “Sit down, Joel. It's no that."

The bull gave him a puzzled look. “Huh?"

“My favorite drink…" Shaw looked around the table again then went back to Joel. “… is the one I share with all of you."

He let the words settle in as Joel's expression changed from fury to disbelief, suspicion and the confusion. “You're shitting me."

“No, I'm not," he admitted, regarding the drink in front of him. “Think about it. After all this time, how many times did you actually sit down and have a drink with us. All of us."

Joel frowned, his brow furrowing. “I guess… the last time was… When we had that wake at the beach…"

“And that was kind of sad," Shaw agreed. “This time, we're here celebrating. All of us. Otherwise, most of the time, you're behind the bar serving drinks." He jabbed a finger at the table, claw tapping the wood finish. “This is the actual first time where you sat down with all of us and drank with us on a happy occasion."

He grasped the martini glass and held it up towards Joel.

“And that's what makes it special. Doesn't matter what I'm actually served. It's the company. That's what makes it my favorite."

Joel's shoulders relaxed. A smile crossed his muzzle and he picked up his own glass.

“Well… When you put it that way…" He leaned over and gently kissed Shaw's forehead. “I guess I'll have to sit down with everyone more often, now don't I?"

Shaw beamed at him.

“Just as long as it's more than just a 'jiffy'."

Jiffy - Noun

A Moment.

“We'll be back in a Jiffy"

Jiffy

A JACKED Story

END