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Sofia is at the end of her rope dealing with her boyfriend. Fortunately a third party is there to help her out. Even more fortunately, it's our friend Dan Hayes. Why do people keep interacting with Danny?

Here's a quick little standalone story 'cause I ain't been writing enough of those and I wanted a bit of a palate cleanser. It's that lovable scamp Danny Hayes, so you probably know what's going to happen already (spoiler warnings: it does). Thanks to Spudz for helping me edit my fun debauchery into something workable!

Released under the Creative Commons BY-NC-SA license. Share, modify, and redistribute -- as long as it's attributed and noncommercial, anything goes.

"Unindicted Co-Conspirators," by Rob Baird

---

Lee wanted to get some dinner, and although Sofia was tired enough to drop straight into bed the coyote knew that she needed to eat. Besides, Lee always got his way. So.

So they were waiting in the lobby of a little restaurant that was trying to be some kind of pub, based on the darker lighting and the name 'Chain and Capstan' done in poorly emulated gold leaf on a shield by the door.

"We could just find somewhere else, you know." They had a car. Technically, nothing even committed them to staying in the town. Cannon Shoals was at the mouth of the river they'd just come down, which made it convenient -- but it was also less than two thousand people. Not much going for it.

Perversely, this seemed to be Lee's point. The husky patted her shoulder. "You wanted to see what it was like out here, right?"

Sofia sighed. It wasn't even worth working up the effort to growl at him. He'd only agreed begrudgingly to the whitewater rafting trip, and he hadn't been willing to extend this charity all the way to camping -- although the nearby state forest was supposed to be nice, and Sofia wanted to spend more time outdoors.

She felt certain this was his way of getting back at her. Lee could be pretty passive-aggressive at times. "How long is the wait?" he asked the hostess, a bored-looking, nondescript feline.

He got a shrug in reply. "Depends. Busy night."

"It can't be that busy. There's like a thousand people living here."

"The Unindicted Co-Conspirators are playing," the server said.

Lee looked over her shoulder to the inside of the restaurant. "So they're not going to be leaving soon, I guess? Is there room at the bar?"

The answer was another shrug. Lee shouldered his way past and, without anything better to do, Sofia followed. The coyote didn't really know what to think about the joint, all things considered.

It was definitely kinda low-rent. 'Shitty,' in fact, was the word that came to her mind. At the same time, back in Portland, it would've been the sort of sketchy dive that cultivated its image just for the benefit of the hipsters. Out here, it was still shitty -- but at least it was unpretentiously shitty.

So were the customers. "Sorta nice," she told Lee.

"How the hell do you figure?"

"No skinny jeans or vintage t-shirts or ridiculous fur styling." She slid onto a seat at the bar and tilted her head, trying to read what the joint had to offer. "Nothing dumb on the menu."

Lee rolled his eyes. "Oh, boy. This again..."

"'Sup." The bartender leaned his head in before they could continue the argument. "You having anything?"

Her boyfriend ordered whatever IPA they had on draft -- he indicated by pointing; it was, admittedly, hard to make out the messy chalk scrawling. Sofia went for a seven and seven, on the grounds that they were starting their arguments early and she wanted to be well-fortified for whatever was coming.

"Happy?" Lee asked.

"Just saying it's not that bad, okay? Jesus, Lee."

The husky's snort was awfully telling. "Sure. You really think you could live here? Look at these guys. You want to check out the election signs on the lawns? Something tells me this isn't exactly a hotbed of progressive politics."

That wasn't the point; it had never been the point. The point was that Sofia was getting tired of Portland. Portland was a great city, and she'd loved it right out of college. But it wasn't the kind of place she wanted to settle down, if it came to settling down.

'Not Portland' didn't mean Brothers or Mill City or fucking Cannon goddamn Shoals, and she'd told Lee that over and over. Salem might work. Eugene would be fine. But in his mind, anything other than the Big City was "out in the sticks" and he would have none of it.

"I'm not running for office," she pointed out. "I don't need their votes."

"But you would need to put up with them as neighbors, right? Look at these guys." The bartender came back with their drinks, and Lee paused in his rant to pay for them. "Anyway. For real, Soph. What about work? You see many clients here?"

Most of the pub's customers looked to be in their twenties or thirties -- like her and Lee. But, no, she doubted very much that there were any software companies represented. The nearest booth was occupied by a punk-affecting dog with rolled up sleeves and some skank of a bared-midriff otter she had to hope was his girlfriend.

The table next to it had a pair of flannel-shirt wearing guys who might not have been out of place in Portland, except that one of them was wearing the ballcap of a distinctly un-Portlandian presidential candidate.

"Whatever?" she told Lee, answering his rhetorical question with one of her own. "No, I don't. But I'm not looking for clients, either. They're just people, Lee; grow the fuck up."

"I'm not judging. They're not the kind of crowd you'd want to hang out with, that's all I'm saying. You'd start missing the city a lot faster than you think."

"Just -- ugh. Let's not argue."

When she said 'let's not argue,' it meant she was giving in because it wasn't worth wearing the husky down. Lee was going to make his point whether she liked it or not.

Earlier the point had been that rafting was uncomfortable. Then the point had been that small towns had awful food, and she was a foodie, wasn't she? This came up again when the bartender told them they'd need to get a table if they wanted anything to eat.

It wasn't, Sofia felt, going to be the last she heard of that. For the moment, though, the point was back to being that small towns were full of awful people. He wanted to rub her face in it. She saw him looking at one of the booths, and swiveled her ears to catch the conversation that was in progress.

"-- nah. I know you got this thing, like, ain't fuckin' unless you get the bitch knotted. You're thinkin' too goddamn short-term."

His companion plainly disagreed. "Not strategy, man, just good manners."

"Lots of other ways to make 'em behave."

"Handcuffs?"

"Hey." He shrugged. "Takes the fight out of 'em."

Lee caught Sofia's eye: these people, he mouthed.

"Aren't perfect," she admitted.

Obviously feeling the half a pint of beer on his empty stomach, Lee stood up and strolled over to the booth. "Hey, guys. Look, uh -- not to bother or anything, but there's no tables free and they won't serve us at the bar. Would you mind if, like..."

"Oh, for Christ's -- Lee," she growled after him. "Don't be like that."

The two occupants exchanged glances. "I guess you could sit here, too?" the dog said, although he phrased it as a question.

Sofia huffed a sigh, got to her feet, and joined Lee. "Ignore him. He's just had a long day."

"Hey, I was just figuring we could hang out with some of --" Before he could finish, she stepped on the husky's foot, and the pressure cut through enough of the beer to silence him.

The dog's partner, a young, sharp-eyed weasel, looked between the two quickly. "Nah, it's fine. Scoot over, Spotty." When the other dog shifted over in the booth, the weasel raised his paw to call a server over.

Between the two of them, he looked to be more clean-cut despite his slouch. For this reason, presumably, Lee took the seat next to the spotted dog and left the weasel to Sofia.

"Really appreciate it, by the way. I'm Lee; she's Sofia."

"Ain't nothin'. Oughta get some food anyway. Jim," the dog said, indicating himself. "Or Spotty, if you're my friend here. Danny's not good with names."

"Danny?" Sofia confirmed, lifting her paw and giving the two locals a wave in greeting.

"Yeah. Ain't from around here, eh?"

Lee chuckled. "Was it that obvious?"

"Dan's a cop," the other dog explained. "He knows everybody."

"Got it. Well, yep. We're from the city, both of us. We wanted to do some rafting. Apparently the Neatasknea's pretty good for it -- it was a nice day trip."

Danny's grin, which she caught out of the corner of her eye, offered a look at very pointy teeth. "Ain't a day trip if you're still hangin' around."

"Sofia wants to move here."

"No." She loved her boyfriend, but he could be absolutely insufferable at times. "I just wanted to spend some time outside of Portland. And it was better than driving back tired -- have either of you been rafting?"

"I look like I can swim?" The weasel did not, in fact, look like he floated particularly well. There didn't seem to be any fat on his body. The effect was to hone every angle of his frame into something sharp-edged and dangerous, just like his teeth.

"They give you life vests. It's a lot of fun. But there was a bunch of hiking, too. I'm kinda beat. Actually, I wanted to camp out, but..."

"Fuck that. The fuck is it with you dogs?"

"What?"

Dan scowled. "I work with a coyote and a wolf; they're always on about that shit -- spend their whole goddamn life in a tent if they could."

"It's fun," she protested.

"Cold."

The weasel looked at Lee, who had interjected. "Yeah. Cold. Wet. You get a goddamn -- what are you, a husky? Got a goddamn husky tellin' you it's cold, maybe you oughta listen to him."

Lee, happy to have an ally, grinned. "She likes being difficult. Almost as much as she likes camping."

You're one to talk, she thought. He could be the picture of obstinacy when he wanted, and the whole weekend trip was plainly one of those times. "We didn't do it, though. We stayed here instead."

An apathetic waiter appeared in time to take their orders. Neither of the two locals felt like recommending anything. It wasn't a great vote of confidence; she settled on nachos, and Lee went for fish and chips, arguing that they were on the coast and it seemed appropriate.

"You don't even like fish, Lee."

"I'll manage. I managed the rafting, right?"

"You said you wanted to. I didn't know you'd decide to start complaining about it." She tried to think of something nicer than their squabbling, for the benefit of the other two. "It's cold and wet, after all. Apparently that's the worst thing ever -- so bad he insisted on a motel."

"You didn't want to?" Jimmy pretended to be shocked. "Hadn't planned on a romantic weekend getaway in our quaint little town?"

"The opposite. Lee thinks if I spend more time in small towns it will be a valuable learning experience."

The husky decided to provide his own version of the story, explaining that the point was they'd lived in Portland long enough to have a good life there, and a nice social scene, and a steady career -- far unlike, he added, what you might find out on the coast.

Expounding on this thesis took quite some time, and he didn't appear to notice the hint of condescension involved in portraying their town as nothing more than a grim, regrettable contrast to the highways and skyscrapers of their state's biggest city.

Danny and his friend took it in stride, though when she rolled her eyes and asked Lee to knock it off the stoat did grin, out of Lee's field of vision. And after the husky's defensive sputtering, Danny suggested in a friendly tone that somebody needed to see what had happened to their food order.

Lee volunteered, of course. "Yeah. Yeah, okay. Good idea."

"So here's a question." As soon as her boyfriend had gone, Danny twisted, so that it was easier to face her, slouching against the wall. "The fuck you put up with him for?"

"He's not so bad."

He drummed razor-clawed fingers on the table. "Must have one hell of a cock. Shit -- Spotty, is that how it works? When you knot a bitch, it just up and fucks the free spirit out of her?"

The coonhound looked from Sofia to the empty seat next to him and back. "Well, it is hard to move, you know."

"C'mon, then. I ain't a dog. Educate me. He ties ya, and yer mind just shuts down? I mean, hell, I fucked my share of dogs; ain't none of 'em got some kinda well-hell-guess-ya-own-me-now switch flipped afterwards. And thank fuck for that, yanno? So how's it work with you?"

The line between being amused and incensed had been blurred by the drink and some lingering irritation directed at her boyfriend. Sofia took a second to reply. "That's not quite any of your business."

"It wasn't before, nah, but now I'm curious."

"Look. It's more than that, okay?"

Dan smirked. "But that's part of it? Hell, I owe Spotty an apology. We were arguin' about it earlier."

"I didn't say --"

"Then stop goin' in circles. Jesus. Here, I'll make it a 'yes' or 'no' question. If Spotty fucked ya, would ya be all doe-eyed and whipped on account of his dumb ass? Ain't seen his cock, but it can't be that bad. Heard no complaints. You heard any complaints, Spotty?"

"No."

"So we could try -- hey, we're just here to catch the band; ain't got any big plans. What do you say?"

The conversation was so ridiculous that, although Sofia managed to narrow her eyes, she couldn't quite work up a growl. "We're not going to try."

"Then ya gotta answer. Shit, you civilians, can't ever talk straight."

"You know... you're wondering why I put up with Lee, but it isn't like you're some catch yourself. Where do you get off to, asking questions like that?"

The coonhound shook his head knowingly. "It's just who he is. This is also how he figured you were new here, by the way: you wanted to talk to us. 'Asshole' is Dan's middle name. On his birth certificate and everything."

"Sounds about right."

Danny laughed. "Also, normally I'm gettin' punched right about now, so while I ain't fluent in bitch or nothin', I can understand a word or two..."

Her boyfriend returned at that point and, oblivious to the conversation, dropped back into the booth. "It's coming, they said. Anyway! So, you're a cop, I got that -- Jim, what do you do for work?"

"Boats. I'm a fisherman."

"Exciting?"

"Beats an honest living," the dog said. "What about you? They don't fish much in Portland, right?"

Lee explained that he was a project manager, and then had to explain what that was. Sofia watched the whole process with some interest. It never required elaboration when they met people their age back in the city. Many of them even had a passing familiarity with the husky's field of work.

"Fitness tracker?" Jimmy asked.

"Think of a watch, basically. Pair it to your smartphone and track how far you've walked, how many stairs you've climbed -- stuff like that."

"Why?"

Danny, who had been briefly distracted by his own phone, looked up. "Why not? Like an ankle bracelet for hipsters and housewives. Just more retarded."

"Well -- uh. No. It's not an ankle bracelet," Lee said. "You can use it to track your exercise. See how you're doing, compare it with other people..."

The stoat raised his eyebrows. The fur was just barely lighter than the rest of his coppery face, but it had the effect of calling attention to the mocking glint in his eyes. "Yeah?"

"Sure."

"See, now, that oughta be simple. Lift some weights, put in some rowin' time -- fuck yer bitch for the aerobic workout and, hell, you got yourself a fitness plan. Guess you don't compare that part. Do ya?"

Lee rolled his eyes, and glanced towards Sofia to convey the degree of his disgust with the conversation. "It's more than that. For example, at my project we've been working on heartrate tracking without needing a chest strap or to shave your wrist. That could be cool, right?"

"Does he wear it when he's fuckin' you?"

The husky took a deep breath, and let half of it out in an exasperated growl. "This is what I was talking about, Soph. This is exactly what I was talking about."

Sofia did not have the energy to feign serious offense to watching him get needled, so she took a diplomatic approach. "He's just having a bit of fun, Lee. It is pretty interesting technology, you guys. They've come a long way in the last few years. The first ones basically only tracked footsteps."

"But now they can track it when --"

Apparently sensing where his friend was going, Jimmy Haygood put his paw on Dan's arm. "I'm sure they can track all kinds of things. Got some NASA level stuff on phones nowadays. And hey, speaking of good news."

The server arrived with their food, though Sofia couldn't tell if that was supposed to be a good thing or not. She poked at the tortilla chips with a fork. "Are these made with... Kraft singles?" It was hard to tell in the dim lighting, but the establishment didn't have particularly high aspirations and the cheese had melted in suspicious squares.

"Hey. Tillamook," Jimmy said. "You know where that is, or..."

"I know where Tillamook is." This time, she did pretend to be slighted. "We're not that insular. Tillamook is out in the sticks past Beaverton, right? No... no, wait, that's Hillsboro."

"Funny," the husky answered, although he didn't seem particularly amused. Hillsboro marked the end of the MAX Blue Line; even that was awfully far from civilization as far as her boyfriend was concerned. Tillamook was another sixty miles west, on the coast.

"Spotty's family is from Tillamook, you know. He missed out on a big opportunity as a cheesemaker."

"Cheese and ice cream," the coonhound said. "But they're not actually from the town."

"Oh, right. Hey -- tell 'em where you guys are from."

"You know Bayocean?"

Sofia shook her head. Lee didn't -- the way he looked, she thought he remembered the name from somewhere and was trying to dredge up enough context to make him seem more knowledgeable. "That was, uh..."

"Turn of the century. They founded this town on the spit on the other side of Tillamook Bay. So the bay was on one side, the ocean was on the other: Bayocean. Until, like, 1920 or so it was bigger than Cannon Shoals. My great grandparents met at the dance hall -- great-granddad played in the band. Biggest resort town on the coast. You haven't been?"

"We haven't been," Sofia confirmed.

"'Cause it ain't there," the dog said with a laugh. "You city folk don't know this -- and Danny don't know it 'cause he don't go to sea -- but we got some fuck-off serious waves out here. Way my grandpop told it, the Portland types didn't like how rough the boat ride was down from the city, so they wanted to build a jetty."

"A jetty is when you put a wall into --"

"Thanks, Danny," Sofia took the opportunity to cut him off, and winked to see what would happen. Nothing. Or... no, just almost nothing. I saw that tiny smile, you tricky bastard. But he kept silent.

"They built the jetty. And what do you know, it made it more comfortable. Great engineering, except that when you fuck with the ocean, the ocean fucks you right back -- and that bitch can play a long game. It began eroding the beach, and ten years later the whole thing started falling into the water. My family moved here just before World War Two. By then it was already gone. Forty years and the whole town came from nowhere, fucked itself over, and disappeared."

"We'd never do a dumb thing like that here," Danny offered, to no-one in particular. "Not in lovely little Cannon Shoals, by God."

"By God. Shit, we can't even dredge the goddamn bay." Jimmy chuckled again, and sipped amiably at his beer. "Whatever. Goes to show what hubris gets ya."

"Hubris," Lee said; Jimmy had pronounced the first syllable to rhyme with 'rub.' "Sounds like it."

"Spotty's all kinds of ironical. We did have the light, though."

The coonhound looked up. "Oh, that's true."

Sofia was lost. "Light?"

"You know what our problem is, Spotty?"

Jimmy shook his head at the question, which seemed like a non-sequitur to Sofia. "Taxes, maybe."

"Nah, I just skip those. Me, I was thinkin' more like our stories are shit. Got a hot girl I want to impress and we're just some sad hillbillies too damn stupid to even say 'hubris.'"

Lee looked up from his fish and chips warily. "Let's be clear, here. You're not 'impressing a hot girl.'"

"That's what I just said, pup. Listen better."

The husky had ignored Danny's smirk at his peril. It fell to Sofia to save him... and she would, eventually. But joining the table had been his idea: she was willing to have a bit of fun first. "Try me."

"Can I tell it, Spotty?"

The dog spread his paws in an inviting flourish. "Go for it."

Danny took a deep breath, and cleared his throat a few times. "Okay. Okay. Hubris. That's it? I say it right? Or is it -- wait."

Lee growled quietly, finally aware that he was being made fun of.

The stoat flashed a smile, and all of the sudden his speech was back to normal. "Neatasknea Light went up in 1885, 'cause us whiny bitches decided if we were gonna be a real harbor, we needed a lighthouse. But since we're also retards, we built it on the north side of the bay, and marked the map like it was on the south. Figured it out three months later when some poor fuck drove a schooner onto the rocks."

"Wasn't a schooner," Jimmy said into his beer. "Sidewheel packet steamer from Eureka, the SS Norton. She went down with a hundred souls and -- if you believe the legends -- a hold full of Arizona silver headed to Seattle. The Navy sent a ship up from San Francisco to tow the wreckage off the rocks. Brand new steam sloop, just launched from Mare Island. The only problem was, nobody told them to fix their charts and they grounded, too. USS Nottoway also wound up being a complete loss -- some people say that's where the town really got the name Cannon Shoals, because of all the guns they salvaged. Not true, of course, mind ya -- but the whole thing was such a mess they built Heceta Head down in Florence five years later and that was pretty much it for the Shoals as a port town."

"Huh," Sofia said.

"Partly because it didn't really give anybody much confidence. But also, all the wreckage was a navigation hazard. They actually had to blow it up, and it took most of the dynamite in the state to do it -- so they say. Must've been one hell of a bang; anyway that was it for the Nottoway and the Norton. But if you're curious, you can still see one of the guns from the warship down at the historical society."

"This was my story, Spotty."

"You suck at it."

Danny frowned. "Really?"

"Kinda," Sofia told him.

Even though the story had been Danny's idea, he took the accusation in stride. "Well, shit. Have to find another way to impress ya. Actions speak louder than words, I guess, right?"

Lee coughed, sharpening the edge on his voice. "Excuse me?"

"Ah, cool yer jets. Wasn't nothin'." He didn't seem to pay much attention to her boyfriend's tone; idly, almost distractedly, he checked his phone and chuckled at something on the screen.

"Sounded like something." Lee wasn't quite ready to drop it.

Danny shrugged. "If you want? Still oughta calm down. Go get another beer, man. Get me one, too. I'll buy."

"Why don't you get them?"

"You're on the outside. Hell, I'm happy to climb over your girl if you want, hoss. But, uh, can't guarantee anything 'bout these paws, yanno?"

"Grow up," the husky snapped. "Again. Soph. This is what I meant. Think I probably ought to get the check while I'm at it."

"I might want something else, babe," she demurred. "Their dessert menu has to be better than the nachos."

The weasel got his wallet out, and handed over some bills that Lee took with a bit of frustrated surliness. "Either way, whether you're leavin' or not, tell the guy to keep Spotty and me's tab open," he asked, and waited for the man to be out of earshot. "Bit wound up, huh?"

"It's a long day, and he didn't like the rafting. Also -- to tell you the truth --you are being a bit personal, Danny."

"Just havin' fun. Ain't seen nothin' yet."

She couldn't help letting out a barking laugh at the implication. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Hey, your last name ain't Ortiz, is it?"

"Vasquez. Why?"

"My partner's named Ortiz. Also a coyote."

"Oh." Before she could just brush it off as a random aside, though, the stoat slid his phone across the table. The screen was still on: so was the chain of text messages, a conversation between him and his partner.

Yo Scout. Require advice. Got one of you yotes chatting Spotty and me up at Caps. Worth it? [8:16 PM]

good looking? [8:18 PM]

On a scale of 1 to 10, I can't count that high [8:20 PM]

hahaha [8:21 PM]

go for it [8:21 PM]

What about her boyfriend? [8:21 PM]

... [8:22 PM]

jfc danny [8:22 PM]

Still a yes? [8:23 PM]

um [8:24 PM]

SCOUT. DAMN IT COYOTE SPEAK FOR YOUR KIN [8:55 PM]

YOUR HOT, FUCKABLE KIN [8:56 PM]

look [9:02 PM]_ _

as a coyote probably not a good idea [9:02 PM]

but maybe if shes into it [9:02 PM]

we are hella slutty so idk [9:03 PM]

From the timestamps, there'd been a good half-hour of silence from Ortiz before the last demand for advice. That must've been what he'd looked at when Lee was getting cross.

"Seriously?" she asked.

"Confirm? Deny? He's one of you, so..."

Sofia rolled her eyes, turned the phone off, and slid it back to him. "Not gonna happen. Jimmy, why is he allowed in public?"

"Being an asshole isn't a crime."

"Plus he's a cop?"

"Doesn't have anything to do with it," the coonhound said with a chuckle. "Ortiz would've locked him up a year ago if he could."

It also helped, the coyote admitted, that the stoat had a sort of charm to him, if affable dickishness counted for charm. He was handsome, in a predatory way -- cute enough that she didn't mind wondering what he might've looked like in uniform -- but it was the charisma that did it.

The charisma meant that she was mostly sure he was only joking around with his partner, and completely sure that he'd drop the act before it went too far. Coyotes had a sixth sense for mischief.

Lee didn't get that about her -- really, he didn't get mischief in general. The husky was hard-working, but not interested in pushing his own limits. Smart, but not clever. Playful, but not adventurous. He wouldn't see the amusement value in the stoat's repartee.

Kind of a shame, to be honest, she reflected. But she was willing to indulge him. When he returned with two glasses of beer, she squeezed his paws with some exaggerated affection. "Thanks for doing that, Lee."

"Right."

"I was telling Dan that I didn't appreciate his, uh. Whatever it is."

"Did he listen?"

"For now." Danny took his beer and flashed a smile that precedent failed to make disarming. All the same, he seemed to think he might've left some wiggle room and he wanted to avoid that. "I was trying to think of some probable cause to frisk you two, though. Your girl in particular."

"What?"

"Just sayin'. She is a coyote. You know how it is. Wouldn't be like I wanted to. But she looks extremely dangerous and could attack at any time, so we must deal with it."

Being the kind of husky he was, Lee snapped at the bait. "God damn you..."

Jimmy Haygood cleared his throat. "Let's not brawl until you've both finished your beers. They're good beers. Well, not Danny's, but I bet Lee wants to enjoy his."

"Kind of hard with --"

"Hey, we've heard from everybody about what they do for a living except Sofia. What about it," Jimmy prompted. "You do anything cool?"

The coyote twitched an ear, feeling acutely put on the spot. It wouldn't be any easier to explain than her boyfriend's work -- more difficult, actually, in all likelihood. "Not really," she decided. "No."

"No?" the dog prompted.

"Containers," Lee said, before she could find a diplomatic exit.

She felt that she knew why he'd done it. There was no good way to make her work sound any less ridiculous than his. When they were back in the motel room, or on the drive back to Portland, he'd have added it to his file of Everything Wrong with Small Towns.

_Remember when you were telling them about your company and their eyes glazed over? Fucking yokels, Soph. Maybe it's better in Eugene than on the coast, but we've got a good thing back home, you know? Like, uh. Neighbors who actually graduated high school. _

It was his way of salvaging the evening, because she obviously wasn't as bothered by the native company as much as he was, and he knew she loved her work. Lee had to figure that exposing their ignorance was a good way to drive a wedge between them and the coyote.

He wasn't so purposefully scheming -- it was just the way he got when he was mad at something. He didn't mean it. At best, he would eventually apologize for his grumpiness over the weekend. But she suspected that even the apology would be wrapped in a layer of I-told-you-so -- which wasn't completely unfair. He was, of course, right that Jim and Danny wouldn't have been in their social circle.

Not only would nobody in their social circle have hit on the coyote with her boyfriend around, certainly none of them would be insane enough to proposition her via a text message with someone else. They definitely wouldn't have found it slightly funny, in its absurdity.

"Shipping containers?" Jimmy asked.

"No." Her ear flicked again; she twirled her glass slowly, thinking, and then finished it off. "Okay, so... I'm a one-coyote company. I work with computers. Sort of. Virtually."

Danny cupped a paw over his eye like he was holding a pair of binoculars. "Headset stuff?"

"No. You know how computers are really powerful now? That means one computer can do a lot of things at once, like how your phone does with apps. Full computers, not just phones, they're pretty good at multitasking."

"You mean how I can run Netflix and Skyrim at the same time."

Sofia felt a slight grin curling her muzzle. Whether his interest was genuine or not, Danny had asked a question that showed some understanding. And he'd dropped the good-old-boy drawl.

In other words, the game had changed. The stoat was playing at something, and the temptation proved to be more than the coyote could really resist.

"Yes, if I thought you watched Netflix. When you're looking at your porn, though, that's coming from a computer somewhere. A server. A filthy, deviant server, in your case."

"Thanks for the example," Lee muttered.

She gave him a sideways glance, but otherwise ignored the husky. "It's probably not an individual computer. One physical computer can run lots of virtual servers. Think of it like how... you have one post office, but that one post office can have lots of mail trucks."

Jimmy wasn't following along as closely, but he got enough of the metaphor to speak up. "Not here."

"But in a more important town, they would," she teased. The coyote was finely tuned to mischief; she alone noticed the momentary glint of reaction in Dan's eyes. Jim said nothing. "That's a virtual server. But the thing with virtualization is you're paying overhead for every single operating system running in parallel on the hardware, and for the system that manages it. That's called a 'hypervisor,' Danny, if you ever want to look smart."

"Hey, we got computers and stuff here," the stoat said. "Some of them even have color monitors. Don't they, Spotty?"

"Think so. I'm kinda dumb, though."

"SVGA, motherfuckers." Danny locked eyes on the coyote. "Anyway, keep going."

Sofia kept the grin in check, for the moment. "The new hotness is avoiding that layer and just using one operating system, but running multiple accounts in isolation on it. That's called a container. They can't interact, so it's like a virtual server, but faster and more efficient."

Danny understood or did a good job faking it. "Like how if they send two letters, they don't use two postmen or two trucks. Just the envelopes."

"Yes. To do that, you need a kernel that can manage resource allocation for multiple parallel processes effectively, and until a few years ago that wasn't the case. Now it is. And I develop and maintain software that makes it easy for companies to set up and configure containers." She didn't bother explaining any of it; it was not, she now suspected, really the point.

"Now, look at that," the stoat said. "That's how you explain something, Lee. Simple metaphors and nice tits."

"The fuck did you just say?"

Danny's reaction to Lee's outburst was a dry grin. "Just sayin'. She's cute, right? I mean, if a guy gets himself a nice-lookin' girl, that ain't an insult to tell him."

"It's not --"

"Could tell her, too." The stoat shrugged gamely. "Hey, Sofia. You ain't bad. I'd fuck ya if there weren't a dog in the way."

Lee's hackles were up, and she figured her boyfriend might've had enough -- he was awfully close to the edge. She raised her paw to Danny. "Maybe cool it a bit."

"Aw. It's what he wanted. It's what you wanted, pup," he repeated, turning to the husky. "Don't look so goddamn surprised."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Figured you'd come down here an' set yer bitch straight on them small-minded, backwater country boys, ain't even got no book larnin'." He switched to an exaggerated accent for the last part, and his grin was openly mocking. "Just playin' the part."

"Fuck you. You know, for a cop, you're one hell of an --"

"Asshole? Spotty already said that. Tell you what, though." When his grin widened, it took on a darker, dangerous look. "One of us had a girl who wanted to go whitewater rafting, and that fuck decided it needed to be some Deliverance-ass lesson on why you don't leave the Willamette Valley, like we're out here shittin' in ditches and nailin' our sister for an extra-curricular at the one-room schoolhouse. So I dunno, Lee -- you want to play nice, or should we get the banjos?"

With a snarl, the husky got to his feet. "Fuck off. Let's get out of here, Soph."

"But the band's almost on. We could --"

"What? Could stick around with this prick? And, wow, I'm really looking forward to hearing to some tuneless electric guitar yelping. Because I'm pretty sure Cannon Shoals isn't about to sign anybody to Kill Rock Stars, Soph. This bullshit is what I was telling you about! Except you wouldn't listen."

He was digging his stubborn heels in, and although the coyote could sympathize up to a point his latest outburst capped a whole fucking weekend of him being petulant, and Sofia was a bit tired herself. "Lee. Staying here was your idea. Coming to this restaurant was your idea. Hanging out with these guys was your idea. Don't put this on me."

"I'm not putting -- fuck. Fine. Yes, it was my idea. Sorry. So is going back to Portland. And the drive's not that bad. You wanted to go back tonight anyway, remember?"

"You have had a couple, though," Danny observed. "Probably shouldn't get behind the wheel."

Lee opened his mouth to reply, and then remembered he was talking to a cop. "God damn it."

"Babe. Calm down. Look, uh. I don't want to fight. You didn't like the rafting, you don't like this place; I get it. I do kinda want to see what the band is like. You know I love music."

"This music?"

"Who knows. But if you don't want to stay, it's fine. Head back to the motel, take a shower -- I'll be there in a few. Okay?"

He gritted his teeth, stared daggers at the band finishing their setup, and tugged his jacket shut. "Enjoy the fucking show."

The three of them watched him depart with an awkward silence that Danny cheerily broke. "Well, maybe the Co-Conspirators will be in tune today? Bad odds, but hey. Don't matter. Want another beer, Spotty?"

"Still workin' this one."

"What do you say, 'yote? Beer?"

She wanted to keep stewing over her boyfriend, but if there was any way to salvage the evening, stewing wasn't going to be it. "Uh, yeah? Yeah, sure. Whatever you're having."

Sofia got up to let him out, and stayed standing. When he was gone, Jimmy caught her attention and pointed with his thumb to the stage. "They're a shit band. We both know it. Danny and I come to heckle. Right now he's got other plans, though."

"I know."

"He does figure you two are hooking up."

"I know," she said again. "We're not."

Jimmy's answer was a disconcerting laugh.

When the stoat returned, she took the offered glass and found herself taking a sip of bland, straw-colored... water? It was basically water acting the part of beer out of desperation. "This is what you drink?" she asked him.

"It's cheap. Caps ain't where you go for good stuff. Cannon Shoals ain't where you go for good stuff, really."

"Great town," Sofia said.

"Don't you start looking for banjos, either. Unindicted Co-Conspirators are gonna disappoint you if you're expecting that."

"No banjos?" she guessed.

Danny clinked his glass on hers. "Right. Also, they suck. Let's get where we can see 'em."

"What? We're moving?"

"Hard to feel you up if we're in the booth."

Now that Lee was no longer around to serve as a foil, his boldness was a bit of a mixed bag. It wasn't quite as entertaining, and didn't feel quite as much of an act. On the contrary, it came off as... pretty genuine. Like the sketchy grittiness of the bar itself.

She had a question or two to ask of the stoat, so she followed him when he walked away. The coonhound followed, too, but a few paces behind. He had disappeared by the time they joined a crowd of twenty-five or thirty people in front of a tiny, awkward stage.

"Jimmy said you only come to heckle them."

"Yeah," the stoat admitted. "It's what passes for entertainment when there ain't cute girls to hit on. We're simple folk."

"Right."

"Don't believe me?" he asked, finishing his beer and setting it on a free table. "Come on, would I lie to you?"

"I was going to ask... did you understand anything about what I said? About my job?"

"Not a fuckin' word."

The Unindicted Co-Conspirators interrupted their conversation with a messy barrage of disorganized guitar and snare drums. Sofia blinked. Her ears went back. Danny was watching her with an interested, studious grin. She took a long, medicinal drink of beer.

That's the spirit, he said. She had to lip-read it.

No applause followed what, she generously imagined, was the end of their first song. The most baffling part was the implication, from the two locals' words, that the band was a regular at the Chain and Capstan.

"Likin' it?" Danny asked, when the second number ended and there was a period of stunned, recuperative quiet.

"This band is awful." The setup didn't help -- cheap microphones and amplifiers salvaged from more interesting acts twenty years before. The guitars hinted at something that was trying to be rock music, but the lyrics were unintelligible and the beat was too erratic for dancing. "Is this -- do they do this on purpose?"

"Just trying too hard. Band wasn't the point, anyway."

"Sorta was."

Danny smirked. "Stop it. He ain't here. You, now..." She felt the stoat's paw brush her side, just above her hip. "You stayed."

Sofia carefully reached down to remove his paw. "I did. But."

"Told you to stop it once," he said. His paw appeared lower -- palming her rump and giving it a grope that was firm enough to bring a gasp from her. "You know, I haven't had coyote..."

"And you're not going to."

He rolled his eyes. "Right. Look, I don't know shit about containers. I do know, if you were serious, you would've gone back with your guy."

"He was in a bit of a mood." It happened, from time to time. Nothing to do about it, really.

"I know he was. And you're having fun. So am I." He squeezed her again, kneading his fingers into the toned muscles under her jeans.

The coyote swallowed, and did what she could to ignore the heat of his fingers. "Yeah. There's a difference between teasing and --"

As the band started another poorly tuned number, the lights dropped around the stage. Danny slid behind her, growling a delayed answer into her ear. "I know the difference."

Obviously. Because he fondled her with the same blunt, heedless ease as he'd showed her the conversation with his partner. His other paw forced its way under her shirt and he groped her breast with a pleased grunt like he'd known what it was going to feel like all along.

Sofia knew that if she let him keep doing it she was going to have to admit more than she really wanted. She started to twist out of his hold -- but then it tightened, and suddenly she couldn't move. "No." It was the only thing he said. Simple. Blunt, again.

She craned her head around, turning to face the silhouette of the stoat's face. "Hey. You had your fun, Dan." She picked short words, hoping they'd carry over the sound of drums and electric guitar. "You're done now." Or, I mean, I am... right?

Despite the music she could hear the stoat's laugh. He didn't let her go. Then there was pressure, heat pushing up against her rear. Danny ground against her in time to the beat, such as it was, and...

How fucking big is he? Gotta be imagining things. Fuck, Soph -- get out. Next time there's a pause you have to -- another firm thrust pushed the objection far enough back from her mind that she could pay full attention to the trapped bulge in his pants.

"Ain't that shit at stories," he said, right in her ear so he didn't have to shout. "Tell you one. Cute little 'yote girl has an eye to leave the city. Boyfriend figures he better knock that idea out of her." He bucked into her rump again, and Sofia felt her knees weaken.

"More -- complicated -- than --"

"Nah. Easy. Turns out he was right. Unfortunately he isn't around to see me fuck you. Might learn something."

When he put it that way, the story was pretty fucking straightforward indeed. It had the advantage of honesty. And if she answered, and tried to tell him off, her answer would not. He groped her breast, toying at her with his fingers. The music was enough to cover up the coyote's moan.

With the next song, the fingers of his other paw started searching lower. That he showed no signs of stopping was only a convenient excuse. She didn't want him to stop anyway.

It was liberating. No arguing, no tedious conversation. No pretending to be anything other than an easy, worked up girl in a shitty little bar with some half-stranger's fingers pushing her pants open. No acting like she couldn't really use a good fuck anyway.

Just the thumping pulse of the drums, and the sound of the godawful bass she could even ignore... let it wash over her. Danny slid his paw between her thighs to get her to spread them wider. Strong, hot fingers teased her wet slit until she was squirming, leaning hard into the weasel -- gasping loud enough she knew the others were going to hear her.

Ignoring any possibility, any hint of risk or consequence he slid one of those fingers into her. Then two. Three. His paw pumped quickly, the rhythm mixing with the music until she couldn't separate the two anymore. All just noise. Just a pulsing, undulating buzz that started in her ears and her soaking cunt and met somewhere around the coyote's racing heart.

Surely they were no longer discreet. Surely somebody would've seen their too-close silhouettes, and the awkward way she sagged into the tall, lean stoat. The thinnest, most delusional thread of decency made her clamp her paw over her muzzle before should actually scream.

Sparks flashed behind her closed eyelids. Ecstasy rippled through the coyote bitch, tightening her muscles and blanking out her mind. She wailed and yelped and shouted into her paw and for a moment -- just a moment, at the height of her pleasure -- she almost hoped somebody would notice.

Danny noticed, at least. He was guiding her on uncooperative legs through the crowd and to the back door. Fresh, warm summer-evening air hit her face. It wasn't enough to sober her up, but it did at least bring her partway back to the real world.

A cool brick wall at her back gave her enough strength to stay upright. The stoat was in front of her; in the lightless alley she could only see a dim outline of his body. "Danny," she breathed, incredulous at the sound of her own voice -- and that it worked at all. "We're out back?"

"Almost counts at privacy, right?"

"Good... good, I could use that."

"Figured. An' here I thought you were gonna go back."

She looked around, trying to decide first if she thought the alley was private enough and then if she cared. Not a fucking bit. "Fuck it."

"Thought so. Know what you're gonna do now?" Sofia shook her head. "Gonna show me how slutty coyotes are. Know ya didn't eat much of yer dinner..."

He unzipped his pants, and before he had his belt open she was on her knees, with her tail waving and swishing against the wall behind her. Teach me a lesson, eh, Lee? Well let's just see what we've... got... here... oh my God. Her eyes widened at what she found before her muzzle -- thick and veiny and redolent with the stoat's musk.

She licked him all the way from his fuzzy balls to the precum-wet tip, bathing him with her tongue and cleaning the slick, salty taste from his cock. No sooner had she lapped his tip free then more pre trickled from it, and her eagerness spilled a bit of it into the fur of her muzzle.

That was a problem for future Sofia. Present Sofia cupped the heft of his balls with one paw and held his shaft with the other, keeping him still for the affection her hungry tongue lavished on him. Danny groaned as his member jerked in her grasp and more precum spattered her whiskers.

"Fuck," she heard the stoat gasp. "Atta girl -- keep goin'..."

Her tongue caressed him until she was sure she'd gotten every inch. And then, more carefully, she guided him to her muzzle and suckled his tip between her lips. He bucked, forcing another inch inside, and she got a nice full spurt of his pre against her tongue.

Sofia pressed her long muzzle forward, wishing she could take all of him and settling for the solid, heavy feeling pushing down against her tongue. She bobbed her head quickly, wagging her tail at the satisfaction of having her mouth stuffed full as she could get it of delicious cock.

Didn't change the fact that he was too big to fit all the way, and his unsteady thrusting was starting to gag her. She made up for the shallowness of her strokes by pulling back to lap and kiss at his twitching shaft, encouraging him as the throbbing came faster and she heard his breathing shift to clench-jawed panting.

"No. Suck it now," he ordered her urgently. She slid him back into her muzzle and did as she was told: sucking firmly, coaxing him not to hold back with the sloppy, swift strokes of her tongue. "That's good. That's good, slut. Here it comes. Here... mmf... ungh!" He swelled and throbbed between her lips... she could see his sack drawing taut... hear his strained, hissing grunts...

This should be good. His hips jolted and quivered. His cock lurched, and her mouth was suddenly filled with thick, bitter heat. He was groaning for her to take it, but it was all she could do as his sticky load flooded her. Quick as she swallowed he was spurting another hot, ribbon of it into her.

The coyote bitch choked, her gasping spilling pearly trails that dripped lewdly from her cum-stained lips. She was almost on the verge of surrender when at last it began to slow, and she could focus on sucking the final, weakening trickles.

Grunting with the pressure it put on his oversensitive shaft, the stoat finally pulled himself from the coyote's muzzle. The inside of her maw was richly coated. She tried to speak, but all that came out was a gooey mumble.

Danny rubbed between her ears. "Nah, keep quiet. Fuck, that was hot."

She lapped at her muzzle until at last she thought she'd be able to form some kind of words. When she opened her mouth, though, he tapped her muzzle.

"Huh-uh. Follow orders like a good girl."

Gives me a chance to recover, I guess -- right?

Her, and the stoat, too. It took a minute. "You dogs. Basically, only question I got is how the fuck anybody gives a bitch a job that ain't suckin' a guy off. Even the bad ones are good. And the slutty ones -- Christ! Yeah, that does mean you."

Sofia laughed, but what was the point of fighting? "Sure. Guess your friend was right."

"Scout? He has his moments. Almost want to keep you down there."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you got a good muzzle. And, you know, your boyfriend's waiting. Gotta get back to him."

The word boyfriend did not call on the neurons it was supposed to in Sofia's brain. "Hey."

"Yeah?"

"You said you were gonna fuck me, Danny."

"You said you didn't want me to." He flicked his finger against one of the coyote's ears. "What changed?"

It was hard to put a finger on it. "Got slutty?"

"Always were."

She growled and pushed herself to her feet. "Then I don't care. I don't care if it changed or it always was or -- fuck it, I don't care, I need you. Lee can take care of himself."

"Right thing to do would --"

"You don't give a shit about the right thing," Sofia insisted. "Don't start now."

Danny shrugged. "Wanted to see what it was like having a conscience. Fuckin' lame, is what."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Get your pants off, bitch."

She got one leg out of her jeans. One was enough -- the coyote didn't even have the chance to try the other before the stoat lifted her up and pushed her into the wall. Pressed up against the brick, her ears caught the vibrations of the music: the band still trying its best, even though there were more important things to do.

So much more important things. Danny adjusted his hold on her leg, securing her with one paw and the help of the wall behind her. She felt the grip of his fingers -- then a heavy bulk sliding up between her thighs. Something hard and slick pushed against her lips.

The pressure relaxed with a shocking jolt and she gasped as his cock slid into her -- shutting her eyes and panting in disbelief at the thick heat spreading her open. Sinking deeper and deeper, it pulsed and throbbed against her straining walls and her first thought was how is he even gonna fit and the second was that Lee had a lot to make up for.

Or maybe he couldn't. Danny stopped. It took a second for her brain to catch up: he was in her, all the way in her. The tip of the stoat's prick was buried further than she'd even thought possible -- prodding up against where her soul would be, she marveled, if she'd had one.

When he pulled back, and her body reluctantly yielded him up, the grating tension of every inch send a quivering, giddy reminder of just how big he was. She tried to tell him -- opened her mouth, even -- then he plunged back into her and she moaned instead.

He didn't give her time to recover for a second attempt. Just started moving -- pounding her, slamming his massive, gorgeous cock home over and over, stuffing her full like she hadn't even known she needed. There's so much of it. Not like Lee was bad or anything, he just wasn't --

Well. Wasn't that.

And he had to pretend to care about her. Not like Danny. He'd made that clear. She was just a toy. Another slutty coyote bitch for him to have his way with. And future Sofia would have to think on whether that really mattered, because at that moment she would've begged to be his whenever he wanted.

All her thoughts were lagging a few seconds behind. By the time she realized she was going to howl her muzzle was already open and tilted skyward -- she was yelping, crying out for everyone to hear. And then the reason for it: pleasure tore through her, shattering her nerves, bursting free in a broken wail.

The coyote thrashed against the wall, riding out every new wave of release his rough thrusts hammered out of her. It rose up again already, a tense heat threading through her core, trying to break out. She heard the weasel snarling as he fucked her, as her sodden cunt fluttered and squeezed around the shaft so thoroughly claiming her --

As she keened and kicked, cumming harder on him than she ever had with her quarrelsome dog of a boyfriend. And sure, he might've had a knot but fuck -- Fuck, Soph, he's so goddamn good how is he not stopping, how can he keep pounding me like that, Christ I need him so bad. No -- no don't stop, Danny, don't pull out, cum --

"In me!" she begged, her claws grasping for purchase as she wrapped her legs around his pistoning hips, no longer sure where her thoughts ended and her voice began. "Cum in me, Danny! Make me howl, make your bitch howl for you!"

The weasel groaned and managed a few more thrusts, three or four, she was no longer much for counting -- then he shoved in deep, proper deep, forcing her to the wall and cramming her tight snatch full of his cock one last time, filling her all the way up.

She felt him shudder and twitch. And then heat: sticky, spreading heat blooming inside her. His hips jerked, making sure he was hilted with every new spurt of cum he fucked into her cheating pussy. It didn't matter; there was nowhere for it to go -- she was already stretched taut around him.

The coyote bore the warmth of his release flooding her for a stoic half-second but by the time he had started to overfill her Sofia was already over the edge again. She howled, just like she'd said, clenching on him, body begging for his seed even as his hitching thrusts spilled it from her in sloppy gushes.

Her mind settled back into a limp and trembling body with its nerves burned raw with pleasure. Danny was still in her, still twitching faintly. The fur of her thighs was stained and sodden with a sticky mess that couldn't even have been a quarter of the load he'd pumped into her.

Dimly, very dimly, she heard footsteps. "Uh, is everything -- oh. Hey, Danny. What a surprise to find you here."

I'm supposed to be panicking. Why I am I not panicking? Wow, this is what it's like to have someone fuck you actually senseless. Sofia had to assemble her thoughts one word at a time, and many of them didn't seem to fit quite right. "Unh. Who is that? Jim?"

"Yeah."

"Got folks' attention, Spotty?" Danny asked.

"Seems a safe bet. The band stopped playing maybe five minutes ago. And, um. Coyotes aren't exactly quiet. So. Yeah, you got the attention of everybody between State and the highway. Good job."

The stoat snickered, and held the coyote up on unsteady paws as he pulled out of her. Her legs buckled just about as soon as her feet were on solid ground, and she crumpled into a messy puddle of well-used desert dog.

"She'll be okay?"

"Think so."

"Her boyfriend came back about fifteen minutes ago. Askin' around about your new friend there. I heard somebody say they hadn't seen her. Maybe you'll get lucky and he won't have very good hearing."

"Or a healthy sense of denial."

Or, she thought, he'd learned his own damn lesson.

For once.