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Prologue

Thursday, October 25, 2007

5:15pm

A few balls scattered between the mesh netting as I hauled the sack out of the gym. I gathered what I could, holding them in my shirt upturned while dragging the sack with me past the locker room and toward the diamond. On home plate, I'd already dropped a bucket full of bats and equipment.

As I grabbed the gloves and strapped them on, getting a feel for the weight of the bat, I looked over at the empty field, all mine for the last solid hour of daylight. They never ran the floodlights unless it was an important enough home game during an actual postseason, where you could feel the rumble of the bleachers from zealous parents all the way out here on home plate, a crescendo roar like an omnipresent wave.

Images of the more successful players ran through my mind, the kids who'd press on their education on full ride scholarships. Some of them even spoke to me in encouraging terms, which I kept in mind even when running out on the field to retrieve discarded strikes, wild pitches, and the occasional fragment from a shattered bat during an otherwise deflating chopper to short.

Every now and then, though, after the crowds had dispersed and I had some time to take a crack at it, an opportunity not always available warming the benches in the deepest holes of the reserve team, I could feel the solid contact of hickory on cork, maybe even rocket the thing out of the infield.

Not today, though.

The bat whooshed harmlessly past a mile of open air as I dropped the ball in front of me. No problem, I'd just swung too early. I picked the ball out of the dirt, taking a minute to examine every red stitch, like it held the answer. I held it in front of me and gave it a gentle push up, just enough to break orbit for a second, and as it reached the crest of its arc, I pulled the bat back-

"Are you on the team? I haven't seen you out here before."

Strike two.

I looked around for the source of the disturbance. A chubby tabby, as orange as the glimmering sunset around us, carried a towel around his shoulder and wiped his forehead.

"Didn't know they had practice this late," the cat said. "But where's the rest of them?"

"Are you the new equipment gestapo?" I said, rolling my eyes and leaning forward on my bat. "The coach doesn't care, long as I bring everything back."

"At least you don't need too much time to gather up all your homers," he said, leaning against the chainlink fence behind home, near the ramshackle wooden hut that served as the home dugout.

I threw another ball in the air. That time I made contact; it skidded out in a line drive into left field. Had both short and second been sufficiently drowsy it might've even rolled past them.

"Not bad," he said, taking a swig from a plastic squeeze bottle. "Do you think South College has room for one more scholarship?"

"Is that bottle full of cake batter or something?" I said.

"Well, I may be fat, but at least I'm not out here pretending to be Montana. That's kinda sad, bro."

"Montana played football, you dolt. What are you doing out here, anyway? Can't let a guy suck in peace?"

"I'm in detention," the tabby said. "Community service. I'm just busting your chops to alleviate boredom. I've spent the past six hours cleaning up old chewing gum and gathering leaves."

"Detention, huh?" I said. I threw another ball up and made contact, this time getting a half-decent arc right over second's head. "Let me guess, you're the guy in class who's always correcting the teacher over some pedantic detail, probably in math class, and they finally had enough?"

He shrugged. "I punched a guy."

"Did he deserve it?"

"He started it. Pinched at my stomach, called me a fat cat."

"Rough."

He laughed. "Wish the principal saw it that way. I'm Leon Tucker," he said, extending a paw.

"Derek Peck," I said, shaking it.

"Why are you out here so late, anyway?"

"Trade secret," I said, pointing my bat westward. "See those big old mountains? It's around five when the sun finally gets behind them, so you Don't have to deal with the glare."

"You could just, you know, wear sunglasses."

"I tried that, but people still hang out here earlier in the day, and I like to do this alone."

"Interesting approach to a team sport."

"I'm in no danger of displacing any of them on a pro roster," I said. "It's easier just to keep it here, half in my head."

"Still, this is the senior team. You should be able to just go home after fifth and before lunch, right? Do you like, go home at noon and then come back here?"

"I'm usually at the library after classes."

"Jesus, dude."

"What? It's still nice and quiet there, even with all the, you know, high schoolers toiling about, so I can get my homework done, then grab a snack, put on my headphones, kick back with the laptop or grab a book off the shelf. This school has a surprisingly decent collection, no idiotic censorship or 'approved' shelves, just the original works as intended."

Leon rolled his eyes. "I can't believe you. What a dork."

"And then, when the sun rolls through the windows on the second floor, that's when I know I'm ready to go out here and pretend to be in the show."

"What do you do when you're not nerding up the place, Derek? Do you also sleep here, too?"

"I've thought about it, but no."

"Then you do go home at some point. What then, ball hero?" Leon said.

I shrugged. "I dunno."

"What do you mean, you dunno? Big loser like you should have already heard back from all the colleges he applied to."

"That's a good one," I said, blowing a raspberry. "Not much point in blowing time and money on application fees. I'll probably just end up at the community college."

"The Kaplan dumping ground claims another," Leon said, shaking his head.

"Come on. Who has this stuff figured out at 18, anyway?"

"Not us," he said, kicking at the dirt.

"How much longer you in the clinker for?" I asked.

"Once I bring those balls of yours n' stuff back, I should be free to go," Leon said. "At least for today."

"Will you be here tomorrow, same time?"

"Sure," he said. "It's an all week thing."

"Maybe we could apply to Kaplan together," I suggested. "I Don't really have any idea what I'm doing. I know it's a formality, but we could sign up for classes together, unless you're like on academic probation or something. We could help each other out."

He scoffed. "No friends of your own, huh?"

"They're all going to 'real' colleges. I assume this is the part where we start drifting away toward our 'adult' friends."

"Bet your parents are ashamed of you," he said.

"Bet your parents wish they'd aborted you."

"Bet your mom wishes she'd have swallowed instead."

"Bet your dad wishes he'd been castrated."

"See you tomorrow at five then?" Leon asked.

"Sure. Let me help you pick up your dropped balls," I said. "So much for practice, though."

"Yes, I'm sure your agent will be disappointed."

As we walked out to the field, gathering my few hits, I asked him, "Got any plans for tonight?"

"Yeah. Playing Oblivion with my brother. You got an account?"

"No way. I'm not blowing cash on a MMORPG subscription."

"You should, dude, it's awesome."

"Who's the big dork now?" I said, dropping balls in the bucket.

"You, ya friggin' library rat," he said.

"Library wolf, you friggin' pussy," I said. "Clean your glasses."

"I would, but the mist from _your_flapping pussy keeps fogging them."

"No wonder you're so attracted to me," I said, fishing out the last ball.

"To a skinny trash howler?" Leon said. "Like there'd be any room in my harem for a smelly canid, let alone a male. Jesus."

"Oh, your harem? I'm sure that's as real as your diet regimen. You do know the point of a high-calorie intake is to burn it off with strenuous physical activity? Do you know what sweat is?"

"Yeah. It's what'll be dripping from your forehead tonight when you're thinking about me as you beat off."

"I'd rather think about your harem," I said. "Also, wolves Don't sweat through their foreheads, dummy."

"Oh right, your paw pads. Natural moisturizer. You people are so gross."

"We should all strive to be elegant felines with those weird barbed penises of yours. No wonder your harem is so angry all the time."

"You probably wonder what one feels like up your butt. Not that any self-respecting cat would degrade himself to that level."

"Oh, did a cat anywhere do something respect-worthy once?"

"Yeah, didn't scratch your fairy face."

We walked over to the locker room with the loot in tow, throwing it back on the ground without too much regard. I stuffed my team jersey in my locker and traded it out for the leather jacket, feeling the evening wind start to rip through the open door.

"You got a car, butt-muncher?" Leon said as we stepped outside and locked the room up.

"'Fraid not. How about you, ass-bandit?"

"Nah, parents are waiting on my good behavior before they plunge up that kind of investment."

"I guess their pocketbooks are thankful for your delinquency."

"My grades make up for it, so..." he said, puffing out his chest. "They'll see the light. They'd rather spend money than haul me around or have bro do it."

"Good luck with that," I said. "Wouldn't wanna, god forbid, work for it."

"They Don't want me rolling around in a junker."

"You're awfully coddled for such a 'rebel'," I said.

"You're awfully pushy for such a queen."

"That doesn't even make sense," I said. "Is that your ride?"

A nice-ish German sedan pulled up to the curb outside the diamond, honking at us. "Yeah, that's my bro," he said. "Same time tomorrow, then. Maybe you'll actually get a base hit."

"It's more likely than you getting laid," I said, waving him good night. He flipped the bird at me as he crawled into the car, obscured behind the highly illegal window tinting, chatting with an older looking cat. The peeled out from the curb, disappearing beyond the boulevard.

I pulled out my five-year old T9 phone, still yelling at me to RENEW LOW MINUTES WARNING and scrolled through my contacts.

<Yo Gina I'm Ready> I texted and sent. I kicked back on the other side of the chainlink fence stood under the last dying embers of the sun.

5:45pm

The dusk flipped the thermometer on its head, so when the beat up old sedan showed up, I stubbed out the smoke and dashed over there, arms wrapped around myself as the backpack thwacked behind me. I threw it into the rear driver's side, over a cornucopia of ancient receipts and sticky soda cups, and shut the door behind me.

"Good evening, Derek," said the red coyote behind the wheel, leaning back and holding his fist out for a bump.

I tapped it and said: "Brad. Heater. Now."

"What did I tell you about maintaining your coat?" said Gina, whipping around to look at me, giving the once over. "You didn't even brush it this morning, did you? That's why you're turning into a friggin' icicle, you dolt."

"Nice to see you too, sis," I said, buckling up and leaning back into the smell of old car climate control sputtering. "I know, I should really dedicate another hour in the morning for proper beautification except, you know, somebody else needs to occupy the lone bathroom for about 37 hours a day."

"Do it after class, in the locker room or whatever."

"In _front_of other people?"

"Whoa now!" Brad said with a jovial smirk. "Now Derek, I'd be happy to loan you some of my travel shampoo. It's designed for a coyote's sheen, but how different could it be? Plus you're outdoors a lot, so it'll keep your coat protected from all the elements n' bugs n' stuff."

"Thanks," I said, buckling up.

"Oh, and here you go," he said, tossing a bag to my side. I looked in and found the treasure, laid out and the scent hit my snout, causing me to salivate right onto the dirty cloth bench. I was about to apologize, but Brad laughed it off. "You can dig in right now if you're dying, but we were thinking we'd have a picnic once we make it out to Lookout. Your call, though."

"Is my jacket down here?" I asked, digging around in front of me for the touch of leather.

"You can borrow mine!" Brad said as we pulled away. My head hit the back of Gina's seat. "Hey sweetie, I think it's on your side. Can you check?"

"Sure," she said reaching down. "Found it. Here you go, dork," she said, tossing it behind her. The jacket landed on my snout and covered my head, the scent of leather at least overpowering the burger and fries and stopping my torrent of drool.

"Where would I be without you?" I said, my speech muffled.

"Underground," Gina said.

"Everything okay with you?" I asked, pulling it down and squirming my way into it, hoping the task would take long enough to see us to Lookout.

"I'm sorry, Derek," she said. "I'm just up to my chest in college applications. I know I shoulda started sooner, but it's just gonna look bad through all the other seas of applicants."

"You think you got too heavily weighed down with all those teacher's recommendations and extracurriculars?" I said.

"You just Don't want to screw anything up about this," she said.

"It's okay hon," Brad offered. "Everybody's paranoid about applying."

"Yeah dude, you seem real shaken about it," I said.

He waved a paw at me. "Heck, I'm stressed too, but I'm not taking on the same workload as your sister here. I know my limits. It's just the two or three schools with a relatively unselective admission policy for me, and failing that I can always just go to Kaplan like everyone else."

"People act like it's this great shame to go to Kaplan," I said, sipping on a stale soda in the back. "Like oh no, how dare you save a few ten thousand on tuition and maybe take your time with your education."

"I still Don't understand why you've already given up on it," Gina said. "I mean yeah, there's nothing wrong with it, but couldn't you at least try?"

"Too late to get started now," I said. "And besides, it's not fair to waste other people's time with my halfhearted application considering I wouldn't want to go, anyway."

Gina froze. "You Don't even want it?"

"Nah."

"Christ, man, I thought this might be your BS 'sabbatical' year or whatever to 'find yourself' while working at the Best Buy, but not that."

"Turns out they Don't hand out scholarships for 'basically passable'."

"Maybe if you'd worked a little harder," she said.

"Hey guys, come on," Brad said. "I understand that it's a rough time, senior year and still being engaged in the system, but now's the time to set that aside for a little bit and try to enjoy ourselves, agreed?"

I exhaled. "Yeah Brad, you're right, as usual."

"Course I am," he said, "Now get yourselves ready - we're here."

"Well lookie there," I said, getting out and finally dressing myself with the jacket correctly. "It almost looks like a real city."

"A generous enough assessment," Gina said as we got our supplies out of the trunk and wandered over to the towering, hollow oak tree towards the edge of the cliff. In defiance of its mass, it overlooked the city as we did now, elevated over a major embankment, and from here the light pollution was minimal enough to even make out a few constellations, emergent in the procession of dusk.

"Can we?" I asked, pointing to the bags as we sat down on the big Navajo blanket.

"Of course, man," Brad said. I tore into it and dug my claws through the wrapper, spreading trash like confetti as the burger revealed itself to me; I bore my snout down in a carnivorous frenzy, growing with pleasure as I devoured it in a couple bites, the fast grease dripping down my snout. The orgiastic madness subsiding, I began dipping a few fries in a more civilized manner, gnawing each one individually. I looked up, and both Gina and Brad stared at me with mild horror, their own burgers still wrapped in foil.

"What?" I said, picking up my trash. "Don't you know how amazing this tastes after a tray full of quasi-chicken tofu gruel?"

"Isn't there a café next to the school? The one we go to all the time?"

"Dude, expensive much?"

"Hey Brad," Gina said, rolling over to the coyote and making puppy eyes. "Please tell me you have the fun stuff."

"Well of course," Brad said, reaching over to uncover three metal canisters, handing one to each of us. We'd adorned them with stickers of our favorite bands and a handful of vulgar slogans. Normal teenager stuff.

I unscrewed the top of mine and took a big swig. "Just the way I like it. Brad, you're a saint."

"It's just cheap raspberry vodka with a splash of cranberry juice," Brad said. "It's basically floor cleaner."

"Seriously dude, I love you," I said, downing another. "You know how to take care of a wolf." Brad continued to sip his soda from the fast food joint, watching the two of us.

"Should I have gone for something a little less potent for you guys?" he said. "If you'd like, we can go over to my place, after I've parked the car for the night, and indulge in those English beers you guys like."

"No dude, I Don't want your dad to come barging in on us while we're drinking," Gina said.

"He doesn't care, as long as we're not like tying bands around our arms and shooting up."

I finished the rest of my drink in one gulp, setting my canteen aside and scooting further up, watching the city. You could see the ever-clogged highway snaking about itself, a polluted river of reds and whites going nowhere but there. I wondered how many people were standing on balconies right then, looking through telescopes toward the other worlds, or just looking up toward Lookout to see if anybody was there naked or making out or throwing trash around.

To my side, Gina leaned her head against Brad's shoulder, enjoying the same sights as me, while I lazily wished I'd brought the empty canteen with me.

"I met somebody today," I said, the alcohol slushing through me and my compact gut, like I'd been waterlogged.

Gina coughed, just avoiding a spit take. "You? Was there like a D&D group meetup in the library today?"

"You talked to another person besides us?" Brad asked. "Is that possible?"

"Shut up. Listen," I said. "Turns out he's another juvenile delinquent."

"Man, aren't we a little old to still be doing the delinquency thing? Is that really the attitude we should be harboring at the cusp of adulthood?" Gina asked.

"What else about this guy you met?" Brad asked.

I puffed my chest out. "We're gonna go to Kaplan together," I said, my smile cutting through the artificial warmth in my cheeks. "Take the same introductory classes and stuff. That way we at least _know_someone we can screw around with, pass notes under the desk when the professor isn't looking."

Gina shook her head. "Derek, stop reinforcing all the negative stereotypes about community college."

"Whatever, Mother," I said.

She snorted. "Yeah, cuz she's so invested."

"To the extent that it makes her feel powerful," I said. "And I didn't say I wouldn't try at all. There's just certain things you do to make the experience of life a little more enjoyable. The box really doesn't allow a ton of variance, so I say fit it in wherever you can."

"Like this?" Brad said, raising his soda cup.

"Like hanging out with the people you care about," I said. "Riding out the last pitstop until the whole thing goes away."

"Goes away?" Brad asked.

I laughed. "I remember when you two were first a thing. It was so scandalous. That was on the cusp of going to high school. We thought that was turbulent? Hoo boy, it's nothing compared to the upheaval and chaos that college will be. What if you guys end up in separate towns? Different states?"

"I mean, change is a constant," Gina said.

"Yeah," Brad said. "We've talked about it. We're prepared to make adjustments accordingly."

"Adjustments?" I said, a little too loud, flopping down on my back in front of them, looking at the stars through the naked branches of the oak tree while they look down at me, looking so comfortable with one another. "Why should you have to adjust to anything?"

"Because that's where the opportunities are," Gina said.

"Look man, we've been realistic about the whole thing," Brad said. "The fact is, if we as high school sweethearts Don't end up married in the suburbs well, just statistically speaking that's nothing to be sad over. And hey, we still have a whole academic year to go before anything really hard to worry about."

"And I'm sure we'll be friends on social media and everything," Gina said. "Even if we Don't always talk."

"Jesus," I said. "Stop acting like it's already over."

"It's not over," Brad said. "We're both just really anal about making plans and having backup options."

"Yeah dude," Gina said, "It isn't the time to be getting all hormonal. We can worry about that if we do end up on different coasts or whatever."

"Okay," I said, pouncing up on my knees. "Then we should really be making the most of it, right?"

"What was that dude's name, by the way?" Gina said.

"He's this tubby tabby named Leon Tucker."

Then she did do a spit take, doubled over in a cough as Brad patted her back, holding her hair in case she spewed. "Whoa there," he said, "Did I make the mixture too strong?"

"Leon?" she spat, still coughing. "Middle-school fake boyfriend Leon Tucker?"

"Wait, what?"

"You Don't remember?" she yelled. "He would bring me those dumb Sour Spooky Worm candies and it constituted the equivalent of a relationship back then."

"Didn't we go to separate middle schools?"

"Why would we do that? We've lived at this same address for 17 years."

"Maybe I cut classes a lot," I said. "It's still pretty hazy."

"Jesus dude," Brad said, "Don't tell me you were drinking back then?"

"Pssh," I said, waving a paw. "Only cough syrup and sniffing markers. They smelled so good, and they're not meant for wet canine noses."

"That's why they always tried to keep them away from you. Oh, Christ, I can't believe you just flooded that awful memory back to me." She straightened herself and stood up. "Okay. I know what we need to do."

Brad raised an eyebrow. "It's a bad idea to stalk your 'ex', hon."

"No. To hell with him. I need to get as far away from that as possible. You know what's going down. I gotta make some art, you guys."

"Oh, no," Brad said, his face falling. "I thought you were past that. Surely you mean, like... on a drawing tablet, or pen and paper?"

She grabbed his cheeks. "No, Brad. I need to do one more tag."

"We said we were over this. You know they put those cameras everywhere..."

"Not at the billboard!" she yelled. "The one with that goddamned model on it selling that horrible smelling fish salad thing at the stupid big restaurant that's encroaching on our space! You see these delicious burgers?" she said, rubbing a discarded wrapper in Brad's face. "I am not allowing all the terrible stuff from the past to come back if it means the good reliable stuff won't even stay put! No, Brad, I'm craving justice like Derek craves cock!"

"I'm right here," I said.

"Hon," Brad said, holding her at a distance.

"Take me to the billboard or we're not waiting until you get accepted to a university in friggin' Fiji before breaking up."

Brad looked at me, in a panic.

"It'll be fine, dude. You know what a piece of trash this town is becoming. If Gina doesn't get to it tonight, some inept punk with a mascara brush is gonna deface it first, and I'd rather at least have something aesthetically pleasing up there to break the monotony and yeah, screw the competitor."

"Good lord, you approve of it," Brad said.

"Yes Brad," I said. "Listen to your girlfriend."

He tried to object, but to no avail. Majority rule.

We snatched up our supplies in the blanket like a hobo bag and stuffed it in the trunk, and just before getting back in the car, Gina stopped for a moment, turned forward to the overlooking cliff, squatted back on her haunches and howled out to the universe:

"Leon Tucker is a stupid asswipe!"

Brad visibly winced at the strength of her pipes, so I joined in:

"Who likes to eat balls!"

We finished our screams, she turned around and high-fived me, then we piled in and buckled up, panting for Brad to get the old sedan in gear, because neither that billboard nor we had any sense of permanence that night.

It was just off the crawling highway, which began to dissipate partially. Brad took a few backwoods crossroads the offramp where it stood, in all its nauseating evil. He parked the car and killed the lights.

We exited, grabbing the old paint cans from the trunk, still vibrant after their sealed purgatory. "Derek. Backpack."

"Fine," I said, dumping out the few school supplies in there and filled them with the cans. She strapped them to her back and began trotting over to the base. It was mounted on either side, so she could dig her claws into the base, to get a good grip. We watched her ascend the twenty feet or so, Brad biting his lower lip in a debilitating paranoia even as he stood under, ready to catch her.

"Don't freak," I told him. "She's done this a million times."

"Not after a can of vodka," he said.

"She was less coordinated then," I said. "Besides, she's swinging up to the walk now. Let's stand back."

We jogged backwards to view the billboard in all its hideousness, the tiny silhouette of Gina the only acceptable thing in view. The billboard showed a gazelle, dolled up with some rather hideous clashing makeup, opening her mouth in front of some utterly fake looking burger that she clearly had no intention of ever eating.

"What are you thinking of?" I shouted, cupping my paws.

She couldn't hear me. Instead, she mooned a couple of passing motorists, who probably couldn't make her out much, then went to work on her canvas.

The old delinquent reemerged with full force. She went for a zombie motif, bringing a horde of brain-eating, rotten Halloween extras in time for the season, spiking a few wriggling maggots on the fake burger. As for our gazelle, she got the treatment of a top hat, a moustache, and a mouth agape with drool and chunks of bloodied meat.

Gina stood back to admire her handiwork - just a little too close to the edge to stop my heart from jumping - but went back, adding just one more feature: the Wolf Pack logo we'd designed so many years ago, three heads like a Cerberus dog, growling with ghostly white pupils.

She began to claw her way back down the pole. I turned left and wondered what the motorists' reaction would be to the new artwork, when my ears picked up a most unwelcome intrusion.

"Duck!" I shouted at Derek, and we ran behind the parked car as a wailing red and blue light drew ever closer, our breath frozen to crystals as we waited - to see as it passed right past us, on the highway, going after a speeder.

"Thanks a lot, you assholes!" Gina said, running back towards us as we re-emerged.

"Hey, you knew the risks when you took it," I said. "We should really get radios for these kinda hijinks."

"Or, better yet," Brad said, "Never do these things again."

She ran up to him and kissed him. "I love you. I promise that I'll make your anxiety worth it, big guy," she said, reaching for his waistline.

"Cool guys, but we maybe should get out of here now," I said. "Don't wanna stay at the scene, you know?"

"Capital idea," Brad said, "Come on everyone. Let's go home."

We strapped in and he peeled on out of there, kicking up mud like an angry bull as we zoomed back onto the main street, Gina and I howling and laughing like hyenas, Brad still shaken but starting to get more into the groove.

He even joined us, after a while, for a perfunctory contribution in howling toward the bright white moon.

Friday, October 26, 2007

1:03pm

I got out of my desultory last-period CompSci class with a head full of confusion. Not necessarily the result of any hangover, just my rather misguided attempts to pay attention. I worried that I would have to drop the class, or just do what everyone else did and copy the answers from the internet.

I dawdled around for a bit while the lunch rush hit and swarms of animals filtered their way through a line designed for a far smaller clientele. I wasn't any less hungry than they were, but I didn't mind waiting for the rush to calm down so I could grab a quiet spot with the state-approved palette.

Just before the post-lunch period began, I'd been through the diminished line and stuffed the cardboard chicken and chips into my backpack, punching the code through and walking on over to the bench just outside the library. I could sneak in a few bites and make it last while no one was looking.

At last, the bell rung and I had my free study period. I swiped my ID for entrance and walked to my favorite spot, plopping down on an overstuffed bench and spreading out. Only a few other people populated the library at that hour, so the noise level became more appreciably befitting to, y'know, a library.

I spread out my stuff and kicked back, becoming lost in what I was reading, snacking on a few clandestine chips when an unusual bump thrust me out of my reverie. I turned back and saw a tabby with a cart full of returns, staring at me like I'd lost my mind.

"Well," I whispered, "You're a little early."

"Man, I knew you'd be here," Leon said. "I was hoping you were just messing around with me."

"Yeah. I just adore multitasking like this."

"What class is that for, anyway?" he asked, pointing to the book I had open in my lap.

"It's not for a class, dude," I said.

"You're reading a book... on purpose, not for a class."

"I got a ton of those, including a coffee table tome about the history of all the professional and historic ballparks. Maybe you could start with that one, since it's got a lot of pictures. Before this I borrowed an autobiography of Karl Kaspersky, the chess grandmaster. It included some helpful tips for my own game, too. I was always so shaky during opening moves."

"You're a freak," Leon said, pulling up next to me. "Maybe I could play you sometime."

"Chess? Really?"

"Yeah. I won't turn down a game." He grabbed his own backpack from the cart and pulled out a textbook. "Man, I'm tired of all that Dewey Decimal stuff."

"I've thought about becoming a librarian."

"Of course, you would," he said, opening the textbook. He looked about halfway through a page on...

"Dude, you're already in linear algebra? That's college level. I gave up math after statistics."

He shrugged. "It keeps me busy. You spend enough time bored with a graphing calculator, you learn to skip ahead."

"Maybe if you're smart," I said. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I'm not. It's no big deal, just a thing I do."

"Well, it's impressive. I wish I ran that kind of brainpower."

"Maybe it just doesn't appeal to you," Leon said. "Being good at something is about 99% comprised of being interested in it. If it feels like a chore or an obligation, then of course you'll just do the bare minimum to get by."

"Nice justification for being lazy," I said.

"You were just more interested in baseball, for one," he said, blazing through the math problems like he was just reciting numbers.

"Maybe, but even there I only did enough where I got the phys ed credits without having to deal with general pop."

"You dealt with freaks of nature. No shame in being outcompeted."

"I know. I should have tried harder. That's what it always comes down to."

"You just need a reason to apply yourself. And maybe you just haven't found it yet. That's okay, too."

"Huh. Thanks for saying that."

He finished the paper, looking at me. "Why do you think you're dumb?"

"I'm barely scraping out of here, probably on my way to drop out after a semester or so with an exciting but non-lucrative major fanning out after I remember how much I'm spending on an education."

"That reminds me," he said, replacing the textbook and pulling out a laptop. "You said you wanted to apply to Kaplan today."

"Well yeah, but you know. Money. Application fees."

"Not for community college, dude. It's nominal. You just have to worry about parking fees or the tuition later."

"Wouldn't hurt to look over your shoulder, anyway," I said as he booted it up. The older machine ground and gagged. "Ugh. I think it powered off again. This could take a while."

"I've got a while," I said, looking over. "Oh, no. You upgraded to Vista on XP hardware from 2003. This thing's as old as my phone."

"I know. I goofed this one bad."

"If you moved all your stuff off here, I could probably install a lighter OS on the device and give it a few more years. Ubuntu's intuitive enough if you're used to Windows."

"I've heard of that," Leon said, "But it sounds like it would break the thing, and I'm not so sure about Linux."

"It's a trivial process. I installed it on a dumpster desktop once and Lazarus'd the thing back to functionality."

"Well, I won't turn down the offer. Maybe some other time, like when this semester's over."

"Fair enough," I said as the laptop finally stumbled over to his home screen, plastered to the brim with an overbearing anime wallpaper and a mess of icons, folders, and files on his desktop. It was like navigating through an underground black metal band logo.

Regardless, he managed to fire up the web browser and fire up the Kaplan College Admission Questionnaire. "Alright, we're in," he said as he began entering the more trivial aspects. "This is pretty easy, actually," he said after a few minutes. "Just the usual... oh, boy. Tax information?"

"Never worked?"

"What the hell is this... they want your legal guardian's level of education and name of institution? I Don't even know if _they_remember."

"I think it's all just demographic stuff. They're not gonna kick you out if you make a few guesses here."

"Still, I wanna ask the parents first. Here, I'll save my progress and hand it over if you wanna start filling it out. You just make a profile and you can log back in after you've done everything you can. They'll email you your login."

"Deal," I said as he slid it over to me. I ignored my sense of violation over the monetary questions, or the paranoia regarding my ID number and slogged through the sections regarding potential awards for financial aid.

"All done?"

"Thanks," I said, logging off, clearing the cache and sliding it back to him. "You gonna get back to your indentured servitude?"

"Pssh, yeah. Do you still want me to meet you out on the baseball field later? I still hafta clean up your mess, I suppose."

"Sure, man. Don't end up hosed on my behalf. Just Don't freak when we Don't both end up taking the same math classes."

"You'll be fine. Just a matter of confidence."

"Maybe," I said. "See you in a bit."

"Later," he said, getting up and wheeling his cart away, leaving me back to my original task, fleeting with an ephemeral sense of accomplishment.

"Hey wait," I said. "Before you go."

"Yeah?"

"Did you know that you dated my sister in middle school?"

"Gina Peck?" he said, looking out. "Huh. Well I'll be. We'll just hafta hang sometime."

"Nah, she hates you. I just found it amusing."

"Oh, she loves me, she just likes the vitriol. I'll see you in a few."

Monday, March 3, 2008

3:28pm

"It's nice that you have a friend now, Derek," Gina said as we drove home from school, me in the old sedan's front passenger seat for the first time.

"Dude, I'm not ditching Brad forever just because you had to finally invoke the nuclear option. We both got into Kaplan, you know."

"That's because you're warm bodies."

"Gee, thanks."

She rolled her eyes. "Look, Derek, I'm proud of you that you're taking this seriously enough to go take a shot at community college."

"So why Don't either of you go with me, instead of stressing about all the other schools? You have all the time in the world to transfer to a four-year."

"I just can't, dude."

"That's not a reason," I said.

"Also, I didn't mean Brad," she said. "I meant my other ex."

"Oh yeah!" I said. "I'm gonna spend some time with him this weekend. Video games, a bit of music practice, just to get away for a bit."

She smirked. "You know, it's nice to see you like this."

"What do you mean?"

"There's an airiness about you that's brand new," she said. "I mean, you Don't look like you're wearing cement shoes anymore."

"Maybe it's because I got into Kaplan, dude!" I said, raising my paw for a high five. She ignored it.

"That isn't the source of your emergent levity. You mentioned that you already picked out your classes with Leon."

"Yeah, turns out I did manage to breathe new life into that old POS laptop of his with that Ubuntu distro, once we stopped messing around with partitions and just wiped the whole disk. Didn't have to click through sludge just to get the classes we wanted. We won't be taking all the classes together, just English and a few general eds to get started. He's on the math tract for now, I'm still on the 'let's just screw around and play it by ear' tract."

"At least you have something to look forward to," Gina said. "Did they ask about your AP score?"

"Oh, not really."

"Were you even gonna mention that?"

I smiled. "How do you know that isn't why I'm happy?"

"Maybe because you've never cared about grades either way, and the only new relative variable is Leon."

"Well, yeah. I like hanging out with the dude. I'd like it if we could all hang out sometime, even with all the chaotic schedules. Yes, that includes Brad, which by the way I still think it's a huge mistake to ditch him. Guys and girls can be friends, you know."

"Not when there's a 'history'," she said.

"And you were so proud of a drama-free split."

"It's not like those are ever completely clean," Gina said. "I mean geez dude, you're more upset over it than I am. Go chill with Brad sometime if you miss the guy. Though I suspect Leon's already overtaken that niche, so if Brad withers away from us you won't be too upset."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You've never voluntarily associated with someone outside of a family context, and Brad was always like your brother-in-law. I'm just not used to you actually hanging out with somebody."

"Whatever, jealous," I said. "The invitation stands."

"We're here," she said, pulling up in front of our house and ignoring my generosity. "We're home," she announced as we turned the key and walked on, closing the door and dropping our backpacks. Our mother sat at the cramped kitchenette table, scribbling on a few envelopes.

"You said you had some news?" she said, looking up from her spectacles.

"Well, yeah," I said. I reached into my backpack and pulled out the manila folder with the results. I handed it to our mom, who reached in a flipped through it. "What does '5' mean?" she asked.

Gina's eyes widened and she turned to me. "Dude, you got a 5 on the Psychology AP!"

"Neat," I said. "I had a feeling."

"That's great, dude. You thinking of making that your major? You've got a knack for it, obviously."

"That's a terrible idea," Mother said. "Especially for you, Derek. Psych is filled with girls, and unless you get your PhD, the Bachelor's degree is just another expensive poster."

Gina's head turned. "Didn't you also get your formal acceptance packet to Kaplan? Maybe they could..."

"Yeah, that's great," she said. "Is there anything important I should know?"

"Well," Gina said, "I'm still waiting on Harbor State and the others."

"Nothing then," she said. "I'm busy here with all the paperwork for Florida, so if you Don't mind?"

"Yeah, sure," I said, taking the test results back and heading over to my room. "See you guys later."

I went on over to my room and creaked the door shut behind me, plopping facefirst onto the bed. I turned over, trying to adjust myself. The window, shut with blackout curtains and my beginner's guitar and amp against it to my left, a closet to the right, and a TV with a few games on the doorside wall. I scooted up, a wave of tiredness overcoming me when my T9 vibrated on me.

<Hey butth0le> wrote Leon.

<Wots shakin gurl> I replied.

<You busy?>

<Nah bruv.>

<Wanna play Smash on ur TV?>

<Wots going on there?>

<Bro's havin his dickhead friends over>

<Sure dude I got nothin here.>

<See you in a bit.>

I put the phone back in the charger and sat up, adjusting for a minute while I rolled over and prepared the game he liked. He texted me:

<Wanna order the pizza now? B there in 5.>

<Ok hussy.>

I went to my own older computer and filled in the online ordering section with the stuff we liked. By the time I finished and got the estimate, I heard his brother's car pull up, and my pulse raised a bit.

Our doorbell rang, and the saloon drove away.

"Christ!" Mother shouted. "Come in, Leon, it's open. As usual."

"Thanks, Mrs Peck!" Leon said affably enough. They made their usual rounds of polite, combative conversation about colleges or whatever while I set the controller down and got the game ready. Eventually, he emerged into my den with a bottle of the water we left out for him.

"You look like hell," he said, picking up the controller and taking his place next to me at the foot of the bed.

"Least my sibling doesn't actively ditch me just for some peace. I haven't slept much," I said. "Turns out I got a 5 on that AP without really trying. I think... I wanna do Psychology, Leon."

"Dude, that sounds perfect," he said, high-fiving me. "You can probably still register for an intro class at Kaplan. Not everything fills up so crazy fast."

"Yeah. That sounds great. Maybe, I think."

"Huh?" Leon said. "Um, dude, you ready to play or what? Or maybe you should try and register now. Go ahead, I can get a practice round in."

I looked over to the monitor, still showing the delivery time. It would be a while yet; the countdown on there was always hilariously inaccurate.

"Yo, Derek, are you awake?"

"Yeah, man, geez. Your stench alone is like, more powerful than smelling salts. How could I not be awake?"

"Because for someone who just got a major advancement on his career path, you look like a friggin' zombie."

"Geez, sorry, I'm just trying to be more like a certain stoic secret math genius and not get excited whenever he does something halfway impressive."

"Did you already start drinking?"

"I told you, I gave that up when Brad became no longer a thing. It's no fun without the adventures."

"God, so it's your missing boyfriend that's making you all weird and sucky at this game... not that you're trying."

"Ugh. He was Gina's BF, ya dork."

"You always seemed to like him so much. Talked about him in the most glowing terms."

"I can't believe you people," I said, falling back on the bed on my back. "It's always like this great national scandal whenever I mention that I like someone."

"Who else do you like, ya demented hermit?"

"Ugh!"

"You're so difficult. You haven't been on the diamond since winter break ended. I hardly hear you even talking about baseball anymore. I'm not even seeing The Show on your games shelf."

The doorbell rang, and Mother nearly fell out of her chair with a bang as the pizza guy showed up.

"I'll get that," he said, running out to the front.

After he spent about thirty centuries making small talk with the pizza guy, who he apparently knew, Leon brought back two boxes and a soda from the fridge for me. I took it, letting the fizz hit my snout, and took a big gulp, setting it on the side table.

"Sorry it's not that vodka cranberry crap you used to mop up," he said.

"Shut up. I'm off that stuff. Just gimme the normal fizzy drink. And yeah, the pizza would be good, too."

"We ever gonna play the game, or what?" he asked.

"Jesus Christ!" I started yelling. "Is that all you care about?"

The tabby raised his eyebrow. "Well, that was the pretext of my visit."

"Um, no, it was because you wanted to get away from your bro's dumb party or whatever. I Don't even like this stupid game."

"Then why did you say you were available?"

"Because, you jerk, I didn't care what we did, so long as we're doing it together." I belched. "That came out wrong."

"Did it? Is there something specific you'd rather be doing?"

I thought, but my mind became a patch of fuzz, my mouth failing to articulate the blur in my perception.

"Look man, you're tired. That's cool, I can just take a walk, go home. It's impressive, getting a 5 and all. Maybe you just need some time to process it. I'll see you tomo..."

"No, you moron, wait," I said, reaching out my paw to him, brushing his wrist with my fingerpads.

"What's going on, dude? Christ, you've gone clammy. Have a slice before you fall in it," he said, pushing the box to me. "Does this happen to you a lot? Maybe when I'm not here? You seemed to take it hard when I left on vacation with the fam last month."

"No, I didn't. Shut up."

"You did."

"Whatever. Fine. Just go then," I said.

"Jeez, I'm not mad or anything," Leon said. "I just wasn't expecting..."

"Look, man," I said, "It's fine. You Don't hafta stay. I'm just processing some stuff is all."

"About what?" he asked, tilting his head. "Look dude, for half a year our interactions have been: I call you a slut, you call me a fat douche, then we waste time playing games. Now there's something wrong, which frankly I've been suspecting, but I didn't want to bring it up because you seemed like the kinda guy who didn't want to make that anybody's business. Most of my friends Don't discuss serious stuff with me, but _none_of them have ever visibly gone short of breath when I'm about to leave. What is this coming from?"

I leaned forward. "It's nothing. Hey, thanks for helping me to fill out my application earlier."

"It wasn't a problem."

"And for taking the time to hang out with me. Even when I do stupid stuff."

"Just being buds, man. Nothing Gina or Brad wouldn't do for you. I know it's not a huge circle, but you seemed content enough."

"You're... different though," I said.

"How so?"

I sucked air through my teeth. "You're gonna hate me for this, but the thing is, you're more than a bud to me at this point."

He laughed, catching me off guard. "God, is _that_what this is all about? Dude, all you had to do was ask."

"Huh?"

"I can be more of a friend-friend to you if that's what'll make you happy. We Don't have to do the macho ribbing and mallrat 'player' thing if it doesn't feel right. I'm adaptable. I can be close, touchy-feely, talk about our feelings, be there for you when you need comforting, whatever you need."

My head perked up. "Really? I was... I didn't want to scare you off."

He sighed. "Maybe I should have been more open, myself," Leon said. "I can't begrudge you for developing new affectations for me, I just couldn't predict it. I should have listened more closely."

"I still have trouble compartmentalizing it," I said.

"Could you tell me... how far do the feelings go? Maybe I'm off-base here, but well, it's not much of a secret that you're more interested in the players than the cheerleaders."

I shivered, bolting up.

"Don't be surprised," he said. "It never bothered me. I was mostly just happy we'd never end up fighting over some chick. The thing is, I've never been with a guy or anything. At all. I've just never felt that way."

"I know. It's why I didn't want to say anything, let alone ask you if..."

"You were scared that I'd reject you?"

"I was scared you would run away and resent me for the rest of your life," I said.

"No way, homie. I do care about you, whatever our relationship is, even if we can't exactly define it. I'm glad you told me, though. Can I try making it up to you?"

He scooted closer and opened his arms. I gratefully accepted, holding him close. His soft fur felt warm and familiar, even though we'd never hugged before. He caressed my shoulder and made comforting little purring noises.

"It helps, doesn't it?" he asked. I nodded on his shoulder. "And look, if you wanted... to be together, well, I Don't want to shut the door on you."

I sat back a bit. "Oh, man, I couldn't ask that of you."

"You Don't have to," Leon said with a smile. "I'm offering to try. A little bit of college experimentation isn't going to kill me or my manhood. If it doesn't work at all, we'll go from there, but maybe it will."

"Leon..."

"Shh," he said, leaning forward and placing his lips on mine. My heart raced as I took in his scent, his tongue over mine. We locked in the position for a good moment before he pulled back a bit, and we looked at each other.

"God, dude," I said. "That probably did nothing for you."

Leon wore a pained expression, unable to respond.

"I'm sorry."

"Shh. There's nothing to apologize for," he said, drawing me back in. "Don't you worry. I'm not going anywhere."

We sat in each other's arms, letting the warm rays of evening wash over the room.

"Would you like me to stay the night?"

"Yeah," I said. "It's a school night. I could ask Gina. I know there would be room for you, but..."

He chuckled. "Yeah. She hates me, I know. Maybe I can win her some debit points if I make her brother happy. Looks like I'll be here a bit more often... if you'd want that, of course."

"Yeah, man, I..."

We heard my door thrust open.

"Homigod, that pizza smells amazing and I really need some carbs or I'm going to flip tables and start..." Gina said, stopping when she looked at us. "Oh. Sorry. I should have knocked."

"It's nothing!" I said, scrambling for the box. "Here you go. It's probably cold by now, but it's still good."

She swiped the box and began munching fervently on the cheap cardboardy slice, asking us with her mouth full: "Should I be-"

"Um, Geen, could Leon maybe hitch a ride with us tomorrow morning?"

Her eyes narrowed, spittle and crumbled flying from her snout she drew out the protracted "Why."

Leon said, "Normally this is the part where I'd fake out and say that no it's no big deal, but Derek... oh, man, should I say anything?"

"I'm..." I began, words failing me.

Gina swallowed her pizza chunk. "We know, Der. I'm just asking why it had to be him."

"Dude, it's not middle school anymore," Leon said.

"Gina," I said, "I just really Don't want to be alone tonight."

"What are you talking about? You have me, and Mother-"

"Yes, that beacon of warmth."

"-and heck, you can still call Brad."

"I know," I said, "And I love Brad and all, I just Don't... you know..."

"Holy crap, dude, really?" Leon said, blushing.

Gina took a deep breath, staring down Leon. "Look. If you've somehow managed to penetrate that hull... wow, that came out wrong... if my brother is somehow able to derive a smidgeon of comfort from you, then fine, I won't chase you out of here howling. Just Don't screw this up, okay?"

Leon made a heart-crossing motion.

"So, could we take him tomorrow?" I asked.

She growled a bit.

"You can have the pizza," I said.

She nodded, slowly, retreating with the box and shutting the door in front of her with her foot.

"Well, that went well," Leon said.

I laid back, staring up at the ceiling. "What went down with you guys, anyway?"

He blew a raspberry. "Nothing, man, that's the whole point. We were united by a common social thread."

"That might be why I Don't even remember you," I said, shaking my head.

"Did you spend your whole time in that library, too?"

"Let me guess, you never hung out there? Man, did Gina even mention that she had a wombly cohabitant?"

"Sure, but I always assumed you lived on the other side of the country, or were in some advanced program, the way she talked you up."

"Really?" I asked, rolling over. "_That_was a kind lie of omission."

"I think you were just bored with school. Maybe it wasn't the right way for you to become educated. No shame in that, unfair as it may be."

I laughed. "You went from dating the popular good girl to, well..."

He waved a paw. "We were competitors, if anything, and all that our fake dating secured was monopoly protections against our other rivals."

"The ol' prisoner's dilemma."

"It was never anything real. Nothing you ever gotta worry about. She'll get over it eventually."

"You just gotta pull out the charms," I said.

He rolled over, contentedly considering me. "You look better, man."

"Guess I still owe you a game of Smash."

"Only if you're ready. We Don't have to."

I licked my lips. "How about Forza?"

"The racing sim? Christ, you know how rubbish I am at those."

"Now you know how I feel."

"Alright, Schumacher," he said with a glean, "Just you wait. I'll lull you into a false sense of security."

"Bro, do you even Nürburgring?"

"Nah, I Don't speak French."

"It's German, you klutz... You did that on purpose!"

I changed out the console and fired up the game. True to form, I slaughtered Leon without much of a fight, even gaining a new lap time in the process.

We lost ourselves in the game, though, and switched over to Smash, where I nearly won once. Before I knew it, my eyelids grew heavy and it was fast approaching bedtime. We still had to get up early for school.

"Agreed," Leon said, stretching. "Such a drag that those charters for nocturnal creatures aren't here yet."

"No kidding," I said. "We'd still be just as tired, but without all the irritating diurnal drawbacks."

We got up, circling the bed, then my cheeks reddened with a slight embarrassment.

"I think I have a sleeping bag in the closet," I said.

He crossed his arms, smirking. "I Don't wanna sleep on the floor. Or your couch."

"Because I, um..." I said, looking around, grabbing my neck. "I'm most comfortable sleeping in just my underwear."

"How scandalous."

"You're sure you wanna share the bed?"

"As long as you Don't snore and steal all the sheets."

"I'm sure I Don't," I said. "Well, okay then."

I closed the door and dimmed the light. I pulled off my shirt and undid my jeans, kicking them into the corner and raising the bedsheets.

"Could I at least look at you?"

I stopped, taking a step back to the foot of the bed where he stood.

"God," he said, looking me over from foot to head. "You have been losing weight. You're friggin' gaunt, man."

"You're crazy," I said, letting my tail swish behind me, brushing on my bare legs, patting my stomach.

He started unbuckling his own shorts. "You look cute in your undies. Sorry mine are less revealing," he said.

"It's alright," I said. "I can barely stay awake as it is."

We got under the sheets, and a rush of misguided excitement overtook me, like I should do something - but Leon was out like a light in a minute, preventing me from asking if he wanted to maybe...

Nah, don't think like that, I told myself, but my mind went off to the races and I stared up at the empty ceiling, unable to sleep until much later.

Wednesday, March 5, 2008

4:15pm

"Yo-yo-yo, Brad! Wake up," I shouted through my phone as I paced around my room, listening to the howling from outside.

"Huh? Is that you, Derek?"

"Dude, you gotta get over here," I said. "Gina's gone flip city over the news. And I'm not of much use."

"Plus, I'm just making it worse," Leon said behind me, raising a finger.

"Oh man, Derek, didn't she even tell you?" Brad said. "We broke up a few days ago when we found out..."

"Yeah, and I said then it was a bunch of premature BS, and guess what, I was totally right. Also, why should it even be relevant? Can't a guy call his friend anyway and see what's up?"

"I'm just surprised," Brad said, "That you'd still even want to talk to me."

"We've been friends for like all of high school, jackass! I friggin' love you, for Chrissakes. Were you really planning to just ghost me because you screwed up with Gina?"

"It just seemed..."

"Look, forget it, I'll yell at you about that later. Right now we've got a crisis in the situation room and I swear to god you're the only one I can turn to for this particular extinction-level event."

"Bro, slow down with the metaphors. What's the deal?"

"Did you get your college admission letters yet?"

"As a matter of fact-"

"Because Gina did - she got all of hers today. She got them all back negative. 'We regret to inform you' writ large. Rejection City."

"That's... impossible. What about state colleges? South?"

"She refused," I told him. "Never even bothered with those lower colleges. Thought they were beneath her, and whoops!"

I held the phone out, so he could listen to her screaming curses through the walls.

"Hear that? She's saying, 'I need a comedown for all of my arrogance'."

"She can always go to Kaplan," Brad said. "I mean..."

"That's where you come in," I said. "She never even applied to the dirty community college. She'll never listen to her burnout loser brother or the person she fake-dated in junior high, she'll trust the high-minded scholar who took honors classes with her. Please, Brad? I know there's still time. Leon and I got acceptance letters to Kaplan. I think it'd be nice if she went with us, too, but otherwise she's just gonna sulk around and maybe do more vandalism."

"Oh dear god," Brad said. "Uh... fine. I'll head over in a bit."

"Hurry, dude," I said. "Also, you're the best."

"I hope she doesn't throw a can at my face," Brad said, clicking off. I stuffed my T9 back in my pocket and turned to Leon.

"You've got confidence in this guy," he said.

"He's got leverage," I said.

A few minutes later, the doorbell rang. I got up from the game, as Gina was still busy pacing and fuming.

"Brad!" I said, leading him in. "Been too long, dude."

"Do you know where I should snip the wire?"

"Yeah," I said as Leon sauntered in after me. "But I want you to meet my boy... my bud, Leon."

They shook paws. "You look familiar," Brad said. I rolled my eyes.

"Anyway," I said, "She's over in there, and she..."

We turned around to the sight of her, fur disheveled in a matted mess as she stared at us, a chunk of peanut butter stuck to her chin.

"Did we just like, forget everything?" she growled.

"Dude, listen," I said, "I'm trying to be a good brother and help you through this rough patch, but I can't do it alone. That's why I recruited Brad."

He waved tepidly. "We still care about you."

"Even me," Leon added. "If only because this dork does."

"There's nothing you guys can do," she said, the fire draining out of her eyes. "Unless you want to blow one of the admissions officers."

"You're right, we can't change their minds," Brad said. "All we can do is try to soothe yours."

"It's not your fault that they're stupid," I said.

"I appreciate your rooting for me, but this guy got into Harbor State," she said, pointing at Brad. "I didn't even _bother_with that one."

Brad said: "There's no shame in transferring."

"Easy for you to say."

"Or I could do Kaplan also," he said, just above a whisper.

"Why would you do that?"

"To prove that you're not dead in the water," he said.

I bit my lip. "I Don't want to sabotage anybody's career."

"Relax, Der-Bear," Gina said. "This jerk's going to Harbor without me, at least for two years. We're not playing the let's mortgage our futures for lovey-dovey crap game."

"Can I take you guys to the café?" Brad asked. "Maybe it'll help clear your heads."

Gina scoffed, but agreed, "Yeah. Just keep the friggin' cat on a leash, alright?" she said to me. I hope he puts out like a freak, alright?"

We grabbed our keys and headed outside.

Thursday, May 6, 2010

9:32pm

Leon and I sat on the trunk of his car, the aftereffects of an extremely potent batch of salvia just fading away to the more serene landscape, a cliffside overlooking the small city just behind the observatory at our community college. The light pollution was minimal, so you could catch a respectable starfield, replete with nebulae and the wistful arm of our galaxy.

Our conversation felt like a minefield, and I was stumbling around it in a stupor.

"How'd you like it?" Leon asked me, swigging one of the expensive name brand teas I'd bought him. "Sometimes people can have romantic experiences. Did you first-base it with any of those monster dudes you're so fond of drawing?"

"Ha-ha," I said, my head technically cleared but my senses still in shock from the trip. "It was nice, but no, nothing like that. Mostly just swamps and mushrooms and snails."

I was peripherally aware that the drugs I'd just bought were not the wisest from an economic perspective, but Leon swore by the experience.

"Dude, you gotta let your imagination run with it," he said. "Don't be so frightened of bad trips. When I was on it, I was flying on the back of a giant falcon gryphon chimaera, sword in hand as I lead the army of conquering dawn."

"Imagination? Dude, that's just the premise of Oblivion or whatever that video game you're always trying to get me to join."

"You gotta get on that, man," he said.

"No way, dude, I'm not sending them ten bucks a month to feed an addiction. It's not really my genre, anyway."

"But you know," he said, "we Don't have that much time left here. Gina's heading out to Harbor State, I'm going to South College, and you're... well..." the cat stopped, biting his tongue.

"It's no big deal," I said, "Just something I have to accept, and plan accordingly."

"It worries me. I think you're selling yourself short, and you might end up on a life path below your standards. You can always go back to college after things stabilize a bit for you. Besides, I'm going to miss you too, okay? That's why I'm trying to get you into the MMORPG world. We gotta do the fun stuff while we can, and it's easier to set it up when I'm not a hundred miles away most of the time."

"I get ya," I said, staring down into the city.

"Gina says you're taking it hard."

"I hate to say this, but maybe it's a good thing we're going our separate ways," I said. "If I'm going to seek an actual relationship, it can't be one-sided, no matter how much I might like... well."

"Hey," he said, drawing me closer. "I still want to be friends. And I want you to be happy."

"I..." I leaned forward and, detached from the awareness of what I was doing, leaned into it and kissed him on the lips. "Damn it," I said.

"Hey, don't worry about it," he said.

"No. This is for the best," I said, crossing my arms, looking down into the city. "We can't do this anymore."

"I could be your wingman, you know?" he said. "I know there's some man out there who would be incredibly fortunate to have you. Just imagine it; we could be best men at each other's weddings."

"I have pictured that," I said.

"It could still happen."

And I did think of it, as we looked onward into the stars with our growing sobriety.

Headcount

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

6:35am

I woke up drenched in sweat and grabbed a handful of toiletries and prepared to set off to the secret apartment, figuring I'd call back home later in the morning to ship out the rest of my belongings. Under the optimistic assumption that I'd be able to swindle my creditors long enough to secure housing, I'd navigated through the robot menus and consolidated everything outstanding into the scummiest card I had in my arsenal, placing holds on everything else.

My main idea to game the system, so that that even if they were foolhardy enough to look at my public financial record, depended on having enough dark money on hand to give the impression that I could pay first and last months' rent up front, no questions asked.

Unhooking my phone from the charger, I let it sit on the faux marble countertop. At least I hadn't needed to speak much, and risk waking up the faintly snoring strangers on the other side of the flaking wall. I stood in front of the mirror and leaned against the sink, trying not to fall over. I raised my head a bit and looked in the mirror against my better judgment.

"Don't you look like royalty," I mumbled, scratching under my chin. I fumbled around in the drawer for the brush I liked, the one that didn't give me a Brazilian wax every time I needed a straightener, and set to work on the clumped matting. My face was a cemetery of cowlicks, and I had to bite my lip to prevent from yelping every time the brush got caught. After a couple minutes I wasn't sure if I was improving the tangle or making it worse, and on further inspection noticed I'd also have to swing by the drugstore and pick up some eye drops. I slumped my cheek down on the countertop, enjoying the coolness on my face, when the alarm on my phone started blaring. I groped for it like a deficient ragdoll and watched in a slow-motion resignation as it slipped right out of my paws like a bar of soap and went crashing into the wall adjacent to my folks' bedroom. I fell backwards on my rear and sat there looking at the carnage for a minute, trying to visually assess where the battery had flown off too, wondering when the lights would come on and everyone would start storming towards my room wondering what all the racket was about.

I scrambled around for a bit, putting all the pieces together and setting them in a pile of rubbish back on my bed, falling backwards and looking up at the asbestos-laden popcorn ceiling. At least nobody noticed.

"I'm doing the right thing, aren't I?" I asked the empty morning air, receiving only the faint snores and the whirr of a computer fan in reply. The phone proceeded to load up, including that horrible starting jingle, a polyphonic rendition of the insipid commercial I'd seen blearing out of so many interactive billboards. I'd finally managed to upgrade to a smartphone in preparation for the new job - nothing top of the line, but enough to have voice recognition and a touchscreen. That elicited an unenthusiastic grunt from next door, and I decided not to risk any hypothetical interaction. They all knew I was done for here. No use in a prolonged goodbye.

I threw the rest of my stuff into the beaten, frayed camo Jansport which had served me well in high school, its multiple pockets adept at hiding from the feral administrators the wares for my private entrepreneurial endeavors. It's amazing what you can do with a splash of vanilla extract and a bit of packing foam.

I took off the alarm, remembering that I no longer needed the stupid thing, and set out, gingerly shutting the door behind me. I was about to reach the front entrance when I saw the faint outline of perked ears in front of the living room TV, its volume kept low as it droned on with fevered advertisements.

"Didn't know you were already out of here," Gina said, turning around slowly to me. The bags under her eyes were visible in the low light, casting shadows like miniature black holes devouring the rest of her.

"Yeah, well, gotta get an early start," I shrugged. "Anything good on TV?"

She turned off the TV, leaving me without the deflective prop. "Look man," she said, straightening up, "You Don't have to justify whatever dumb psychological motivation is pushing you down there. I get it, life happens, circumstances change. Call me crazy, but I was just kinda hoping that it would work out this time."

I nodded. "It's not as though we didn't try. Fair enough?"

"Yeah," she said, looking down.

"Is that your roundabout way of asking me to stay?"

"No. I wouldn't ask you to do that."

"You should get out of here too, ya know," I said, fidgeting with the backpack as it grew heavier. "I mean, for real this time. We could see each other in a less micromanaged environment."

"What, so we could both stake out of here without a plan, and better yet do it at the same time?"

"I do have a plan. It's just not a very good one."

"I just Don't want you to make the same mistake I did," she said. "City life isn't as romantic as you think it is, and going it alone is questionable."

"I won't be alone," I said. "I already video-chatted with my new roomie, and he seems pretty cool."

Gina's ears drooped back in that calculated way that drove my instincts at war against what I knew was happening.

"You're lying, aren't you?"

"I can't back out now. I gotta be there bright and early. Already had a tour scheduled with the place."

"It's still about Leon, huh?"

"That part of my life is over," I said.

"It's perfectly fine to miss him, Derek. You Don't have to turn the whole cart over just to move on."

"It's just..." I said, setting the backpack down. "There are too many reminders of him. It feels like the chapter's closed but it's impossible to turn the page while I'm here. I'm not expecting anything to magically change, but I have to do something, even if it's a mistake."

"I'm here for you, man" she said. "Unless I'm another reminder?"

"I Don't mean it like that."

"I know," she said, leaning forward. "We all have to try and be our own independent adults. Leon might've retarded that progress somehow. I just hope you know you're not as alone as your brain is telling you."

"Perhaps," I said, "But it's worth seeing if I can make it in the real world. I do appreciate your support, Gina."

"Just be careful out there."

I blew her a kiss. "We'll talk soon. I promise."

"Goodbye, Derek."

I walked outside and closed the door, looking ahead. It was that loathsome time of morning just after nautical dawn, but even still, I felt an optimistic anxiety bubbling under my skin.

7:53am

I made it to a dumpy old bus pass on the last fringes before the next city. With the old apartment complex fading fast into the background, I came up on a small horde of goon boys cranking the latest incessant hits out of an archaic Bluetooth boombox.

They were lower-class rats in tracksuits, many of their large ears adorned with oversized piercings and other relics of amateur plastic surgery. I slapped in my own earbuds to try and cancel some of it out as I made my way to the harsh plastic bench near the bus's pickup. It was a cramped glass hut adorned by sun-bleached advertisements for some godawful action flick from many years past.

I settled myself in, getting ready to hurry up and wait for the long and questionable ride to the hut where I'd secured my desultory living conditions, when my snout was overcome with the olfactory assault of Vicks and pipe tobacco. Wondering if I was being hit up by one of the rats to looking to sell some homebrew, I instead turned my head to discover a large black bear taking up the side of the bench adjacent to me.

He gave me a smirk, nodding towards the rats. I removed one earbud, even though I hadn't been listening to anything.

"Hello," the black bear said. "I'm sorry to bother you, but do you know when the first bus arrives? I think the schedule printed here is a little out of date."

"Oh," I said. "Yeah. It should be an 8:02. But in my experiences with city transit, you're looking at closer to an 8:22 arrival time. More if they need to haul in a larger individual to the cargo compartment."

"Hah! I may be a big guy but I'm not quite at that level, yet. Airlines only charge me for one seat, so I Don't expect anything different here."

"Oh geez," I said, "I didn't mean..."

The black bear started laughing. "Don't worry about it, son, just having some fun with you. Hank Prescott, at your service," he said, sticking his paw back out.

I shook it. His grip was firm, but didn't attempt to crush me. "Derek Peck. I take it you're caught in a rut all your own? I Don't think I've seen you around before."

"I'm on the other side of the county. I wouldn't even be here except that I'm at war with the impound lot overlords. Client insists I meet up with him in person, the stupid red paint has faded just enough that you can't tell and there's no other parking but wham, security drone gets me anyway and now I've been running around since like midnight trying to get this sorted out."

I blew a raspberry. "That's rough, man."

"It's no problem, just another thing to deal with. Might I ask, what are you up to on such a lovely day?"

"Hoping the check didn't bounce so I can drop this sack off at what I'm hoping is my new apartment, and get ready for work."

"Oh, you have a job?" Hank asked, raising an enormous eyebrow.

"You sound more surprised than you should be," I said.

"I Don't mean to offend. I know that it's hard for young people in this market. Not always easy to know what you want to do. Personally, I just stumbled into being a talent agent."

"I feel that. I Don't really feel like an 'editorial intern'. And yet..."

We heard the faint puff of brakes as a vehicle started pulling into view, a great ugly faded blue coffin. I checked my phone. "8:42. Right on time."

Hank got up and stretched. I followed suit, feeling dwarfed by the sheer size of the guy - he was pushing past 7', I'm barely 5'8''. He could knock down the rats just by yawning a little too vigorously. I giggled a bit at the thought of him raging over a stolen pot of honey.

"All aboard the tin hot dog," Hank said as we all started shuffling in. We lined up behind the group of rats when I heard from the driver:

"Sir, you're twenty-five cents short. I need exact change."

"Oh, come ooooon," one of the rats moaned. The driver looked like she was already on the last of her emotional legs. A big, middle-aged shrew bedeviled by wrinkles and loose skin, rolling her darkened eyes at the imbecilic tantrum before her. "Ey, any o' youse guys got a quatah?"

"Good god, Len, we's tired o' bailing you out," one of the rats growled behind him. I smacked my forehead. Hank folded his arms. I looked up to watch him smirking, aching for the act to play out. "Can't you keep youse money outta them strippah's cleavage fuh once?"

"Why Don't you go suck a lemon, Lonnie," Len said, balling his fists. "Come on, drivah shrew. Why Don't you let a nice guy like me on, eh?"

"Because I'm on a schedule here and if you Don't get your ugly naked tail in your seat with the requisite dollar-twenty-five I'ma hafta throw it on the street where it belongs. Now pay up or get out."

"Hear that, boys?" Len said. "Big important shrew has places to be, and people to meet! Well. Don't let me hold you up! I'll just take my seat. Come on boys," he said, motioning to them.

"Oh, no you Don't. Not today," the shrew scowled, grabbing something very shiny and metallic from under her dash.

"Wait!" I screamed, digging through my front pocket for a quarter. "There! He's paid for," I said, dumping it into the coin slot. "Just, go. Can we please."

"Well, that pays for 'im," the shrew said. "What about the rest of you clowns?"

"Eh, if Len dun' wanna pay, I dun' wanna pay. Maybe this nice guy here will take care of the rest of us?"

"It's a buck twenty-five, you morons!" I shouted. "It's not that hard! Even a loser like me carries five quarters around!"

"Um, Derek," Hank said, tapping me on the shoulder. I didn't care; I started to bare my fangs at them, hoping to conceal my panic with my indignation. I snarled at them, raising my fists to tell them to back off. Their faces fell, a collective pants-wetting terror siphoning through the bus like a tornado. They all reached into their tracksuits and produced generous wads of bills that they shoved into the receptacle, going to take their seats and shivering like snakes in a snowstorm. I gave them a cocky smirk and threw my change in with theirs. "Not bad, eh, Hank?" I nudged him, noticing that the shrew was also registering a contortion of horror on her wilted face. Puzzled, I turned around to see Hank just breaking out of an imposing, roaring stance, like the taxidermized prehistoric beasts in a museum about to devour an entire flock. Saliva drenched from his obscenely pristine white fangs, eager for a red stain. My own heart skipped a beat even though I knew otherwise; then my face fell in annoyance.

"Oh, yeah. That makes more sense."

Hank relaxed his stance. We went to take our seats as the shrew turned around, in silence, and we set off. "Are you normally in the habit of picking fights with street scum?" he asked. I took the window seat, looking outward, he joined in the aisle seat next to me. Since I was shorter than the headrest I felt neatly concealed from any prying eyes.

"Sorry," I told him. "I'm just in a hurry and can't deal with these idiots right now."

"You're insane. Delightful, but demented," he said. He reached into his own satchel and pulled out a tablet and some reading glasses. Propping himself into a working position, he placed his big feet on the chair in front of us; nobody has bothered sitting close to us. "You know, I could probably find a role for you as an extra in one of these upcoming movies. They're all going to be terrible, but it doesn't matter. You won't be in Danger of being recognized as a tomato-target, but you'll still get paid."

My ears perked up. "That would be great. If you could. I mean, not that I want you to go out of your way."

"Nonsense. It's one of those options people Don't always consider." He became distracted, tapping through the screen - he had one of those adaptive covers for people who wanted to keep their claws at traditional length. "God, look at what I'm reduced to. Another stoner holiday mashup." I looked over on his tablet, trying to cock my head so that there wasn't too much screen glare. As our bus shifted into motion, we felt every pothole and imperfection on the long-neglected roads. I near fell into his lap once.

"It's not my bag," I told him, "And I'm starting to remember why."

Hank snorted, a great bear's chortle that rocked the creaking ancient suspension on our side. "We're trying to sell enough Tuna Melts so we can actually make the occasional salmon dish. In case you're wondering, that metaphor was almost literal back at Eat Good."

Had I been drinking a coffee I'd have geysered it out on the already sticky bus floor. Thank Christ for sandals; I have no idea where the beleaguered souls who barepaw these things find that kinda resilience. Hank saw me coughing and patted me on the back. "Did I strike a nerve?"

"You know what they say about them."

"Yup. Every Animal Tastes Good. Everybody joked at that name's expense behind Veronica Minsk's back, except for the real sycophants on the middle management ladders. When we weren't daydreaming about working at Heat instead. Their name is still stupid, just more covertly so."

"That's where I'm headed to," I told him. "I mean Eat Good. They hired me as a... what was it, an Editorial Intern. It's for the magazine, not the television network. I think they knew I commanded the lowest salary while still being able to fake the credentials."

"I'm stunned they're hiring. I Don't want to discourage you, but their publishing division hit the skids not long before I hightailed my full-time contract outta there. They must have some great revival planned."

"A real knockout punch to bring the audience back?"

"Managerial delusions are what make the world go 'round. They're always so tight-lipped about it too, as though Heat or whoever is going to extract these brilliant trade secrets that they've just been smart enough to hold onto. Isn't there some proverb about how it's hard to smell your own stench when you're buried in garbage? Case in point-" he said, pointing to the front of the bus, where one of the rats, having already forgotten the earlier altercation, was staggering toward the front of the bus in a stupor, balancing himself on the bench rows. The shrew eyed him in her rear-view, a feral growl forming on her lips.

"Hey buddy," she said, "Why Don't you get back in your seat before things get real ugly in here? More than they already are." She delivered that one with the glare of a savage raptor, turning back to the road.

"But, uh, driver lady thing," the rat burped. "I forgot my, uh, buds, back at the bench. Ear buds. I mean."

"Then you'll have to catch the one going back after the next stop," the shrew hissed, leaving clawmarks on the wheel visible from here.

"But come on! I have, like, y'know, places to be and stuff."

"And I am running as tight a ship I can with the unpaved roads, lack of government accountability, a slash in my salary, and antiquated transportation vessels, and to top it all off I've got an obnoxious street urchin in my face, and I do all of this while maintaining a schedule to keep past any reasonable expectation of punctuality, and yet I still haven't deliberately steered us off a high embankment to satiate my primal rage. Accordingly, if you'd like to keep your face attached to your head, I suggest waltzing right back over to your seat and shut your mouth like a good little rat and wait for the next bus to get your precious ear buds. Got it?"

The rat stared at her, blinking for a minute. "Wow man, you're like, a real buzzkill, y'know that?"

"Well, when you find this 'buzz' of yours, I'll be sure to give it a proper funeral. Alongside my dignity."

"God. I've got, like, places to be, man. I'm not, like, unimportant like you are. Whatever happened to the customer's always right, anyway?"

"I'll show you customer service!" the shrew screamed, launching from her seat and tackling the rat like a veteran defensive end. My pupils dilated and my jaw dropped as I watched the two of them go at it down the aisle, a tousling ball of kicks, scratches, and howling straight out of an old cartoon. The rest of the rats began clapping and cheering for their representative. The rat got a few good swipes in, but the shrew delivered a devastating punch to the face. Angered, the rat got the advantage and slipped under her, pulling behind and grabbing her in a chokehold. She elbowed him, but the rat held on.

"Ohmigod," I said, "Grab the wheel!"

Hank was trying, but the ball of violence was between us and the front. I scrambled up and away from my seat, surfing over the tops of the rows in front of me, time dilating to the point I may as well have been clawing through syrup.

I heard more punches, cheers, and jaws snapping as I struggled past the point of their altercation. From there I could get into the aisle and hit the brakes, maybe pull the rusted Twinkie over. But then the shrew broke free and bowled them over backwards, getting in my way again as I laid between the headrests like an old magician. My muscles began rejecting the impulses from my brain to move on, and my shouts for them to get out of the way were like crying for help during sleep paralysis. Even Hank and the rest of them felt parsecs away.

When the impact came, my only thought was why it had taken so long.

I was launched forward from the headrests and crumpled face first into the floor, my legs sprawled over the bench. I was at most two away from the wheel.

I first stared back at the carnage in the back of the bus. First, I checked on Hank, who was visibly shaken by the impact, eyes wide and twitching, but he still held onto his tablet. The rats had all huddled together, scared but also unharmed. Then I saw the two of them, scraped up and crumbled together in the middle of the aisle, limbs like ragdolls, breathing hard and trying to untangle themselves.

"Well," I said, panting through my own shortness of breath. "Congratulations, you morons."

The shrew unscrewed herself from the wreckage and dashed over past me, assessing just what had happened.

Stepping over the rat's body, I walked to the end where Hank sat.

"Hey, Hank," I said, snapping him out of his own incredulous reverie. "I think I'm just gonna hoof it from here."

"What, and miss all this fun?" he said, claws twitching over the tablet.

"Yeah. We're going to be a while here and I was hoping to reach my apartment. And orientation. Before tomorrow."

"Sure, that's fair enough."

"Wanna come along?"

"I should stay the course here. I Don't move as fast as I used to, and at least I know where this route will take me. Worst case, I'll hafta borrow someone's skateboard and grab the next bus with a harpoon."

"Don't overexert yourself, kid."

"Think about what I said about the extras gig. Don't be a stranger."

"I won't," I said, patting my phone with his number in it. "I'll be seeing you, Hank."

As I turned around and made my way through the door, I heard screams, curses, and condemnations. Stepping down the stairs and into the open air, I saw some familiar side streets, fountains, and benches that I recognized from journeys prior. I could continue past the suburban housing units and go up the hill to the left whereupon cresting, the gorgeous low-rent apartments would stand in full view.

The kind of route that shouldn't much intimidate a full-grown wolf.

Still, I couldn't resist the morbid curiosity fermenting in my gut. I turned around once, like Lot's wife, and saw that our bus had crunched up the trunk of a late-model Miata. The badger who'd owned the car was screaming himself hoarse at the shrew, shaking his fist and storming about. She, in turn, looked fully prepared for another assault. The street was empty, and I didn't predict another soul at there to call in the authorities or try to separate the two white-hot, undiluted hatred incarnates before they wed in a matter/antimatter annihilation.

Alas, while I could have stayed there all day with a bucket of popcorn, I elected to press onward, feigning disinterest for the episode.

9:02am

The cacophony faded away like a bad dream as I wandered through the cul-de-sacs and HOA-approved dwellings, at least not entirely reliant on my GPS to get to the apartments. I started to wander into the affluent territories, where the hillside crested into an admittedly impressive view of the city, now clear in the daylight. Here the primary sign of life was the main highway, clogged like the artery of a funnel cake enthusiast. The quiet view added to the sense of disconnect from the chaos, a perk that added to the curb value of the suburbs.

It was like wandering into a hive for giant, extra-mean killer bees. I felt the madness of the city encroach on my being with every step I made closer to the core. It dwarfed the nipper region from which I'd hailed, the gross mini-hive with all the impotence and despair of a major city with none of the regional intersections or escapist amenities.

I straightened myself up and re-slung the Jansport before taking off again on my way back down the hill, catching my breath before my lungs were filled again with the lagging pre-green emissions of the old city buses and the noxious cloud from the highway.

The fields of green and obsessively maintained lawns courtesy of the day-laborers began to give way to the browns and grays of the proles, their lawnmowers and clippers to the clangs of dumpster divers and poorly installed subwoofers in thirty-year-old compacts.

And it was only a few more yards after I reached the bottom of the hill that I found the sign, a sputtering LED artefact with a dot-matrix scroll advertising the low, low rates and Bad Credit No Problem sloganeering.

Welcome to MAGIC PALMS, proclaimed loud red letters on a yellowed backlight, where HEART and HOME are ONE! That name still made me dry-heave months after I first stumbled across it while slouched over Craigslist with a cheap coffee. The floor plans were equally tawdry, from what was visible with the abysmal photography, replete with hyper-compressed microscopic image resolutions. Magic Palms was exactly the kind of final solution for the kind of people who uploaded the thumbnails instead of the full images, and it didn't matter either way.

They arranged the grids like a militaristic high school. I plowed through piles of rust and overturned trash bins on my way to the main proprietor's office, jogging my memory from the shoddy online tours.

After a bit of stumbling I found the door bearing the nameplate "Property Manager", made from the easy print material from every institute of lower learning. There wasn't a pager or any obvious check-in materials, so I knocked on the door and stood outside, trying to block the scent from my nose. I tilted an ear to the faint moaning coming from inside the office. I saw a large racoon carrying an overstuffed bag of trash around; I waved to him and caught his eye. He snarled at me, looking a bit terrified, then bolted away, the bag bouncing against him like an overslept college student's backpack.

The moaning grew a bit louder. I shrugged and knocked again, causing a loud thump inside and a growl of "Oh, come on!"

"No babe, it's okay. Go take care of it, I'll be right here."

"I swear to god..."

Then the very distinct stomping that I felt through the ground, like meteor impacts. A part of me felt like fleeing and trying my luck at the next apartment complex, when I saw the knob turning and it was too late.

I folded my arms and braced myself with a combination of confidence and feigned ignorance.

"What do you want?" came the slur as the door opened fully, and I felt the acid in my stomach revolt for escape.

A boar in a tattered wifebeater and shorts made from old couch fabrics grunted before me. Even his tusks were tarnished like old furniture, and the stench of hoarding followed him like a demonic entourage. He held a cheap domestic beer bottle as he eyed me with the focus of a drugged sloth.

"Who is it, Rick?" said a distant female voice in back, where I tilted my head to find only an ephemeral waft of cigarette smoke.

"Oh, hi there," I said with a wave. "I'm Derek, and I was scheduled for a tour of the premises today."

Rick spat on the floor. "Ah. Yer that guy. Okay." He stood there, the wheels in the head grinding away.

"Uh, is there somebody else I should talk to? You seem busy."

"That's right I am," Brick grunted. Some very cheap booze added to the olfactory cornucopia. I was glad not to have any breakfast to evacuate. "So maybe y'should come back, y'know, dunno... babe!" he barked back. "I'ma need you to prep... uh, get my back massager."

"Everything okay, Rick?"

"Well, ordinarily I wouldn't want to talk to... I mean, bother you," I said. "But I did have an appointment. So maybe if you have someone..."

"There's nobody here," he shouted, losing his indoor voice. "n' even if there were, y' shouldn't get yer hopes up or nuthin'. We Don't, ah, we rent to exclusive cli... en-tell." He hiccupped.

"You do, or you Don't?"

"We... Don't rent to yer kind," he said, losing focus. "So why Don't you just, ah, beat it n' leave me alone."

"My 'kind'?"

"That's right, loser."

"No losers, huh? Who'd you have to blow to bypass that rule?"

Then his slovenly, crossing eyes narrowed in a beam of pure hatred. An onslaught of sobriety overtook his form in an instant as he threw his beer to the ground, steam pouring from his nostrils as his cheeks reddened.

"What did you say 'bout me! What you say!"

"See you later tubby," I said, turning around to leave him to his fuming. After a few yards, I turned back to smirk at him-

When he began charging.

My jaw recoiled as I saw that the pile of lard was gaining on me. The hooves pounded pavement like a seasoned runner.

I bolted like a madman. I could outright him, of course. Right?

I thundered my way through the outdoor shared area of the apartment complex, Brick following way too close for reasonable expectation. I knew how to sprint well enough to conserve energy; he was all the hounds of hades throwing himself after me like a stampede.

Through the dilapidated concrete and dying decorative trees he chased me, as I drew closer to the rusted guardrails and small abodes where the people here lived. I tried to develop a plan, tried to guess what he couldn't do. Maybe I could find a small enclosure to block him out. There were some fences in the distance, but I doubted their ability to hold him back.

As I alternated between panic and morbid curiosity, I saw a door creek open on the second level of one of the buildings. A big killer whale was standing out there in their bathrobe with a bucket of water, trying to revive the dead plants outside of his door.

"He's gonna kill me!" I shouted, casting aside my frustration at not finding a cleverer use of my environment.

The orca in the bathrobe perked up at the noise, looking at the absurdity of a grotesque boar chasing after a gray wolf who hadn't had a bite in a few days. Aggravated recognition brewed in his face. He made eye contact and beckoned for me to take the stairs in front of him. I decided to withhold my gratitude until I knew for sure what I'd just gambled myself into.

I just about ate it climbing up the stairs, and almost felt Rick's snout on my shin, but I recovered and stormed my way up to the second floor. The orca guided me to his door with motions like a semaphore signal and shoved me in, firm but gentle. I skidded on my ass in his dark apartment as the orca crossed his arms, blocking the door. A winded panting stomped up the stairs, sounding certain to break them and fall right through. But the mini-earthquakes made its way to the orca, and I could see his outline in front of them. "Let me at 'em!" Brick said, staring at me as he shuffled his way in front. "Come on, Clark, man, get out of the way!"

"And let you continue causing a scene in front of my house?"

Rick's four hundred pounds deflated in an impotent heap in front of Clark, who was at least two feet taller and two hundred pounds lighter, none of it fat. He shrugged himself out of the bathrobe and I discovered that all his weight was in muscle. My eyebrows raised and my pulse quickened again. The orca was a bodybuilder in nothing but a blue speedo.

"Y' gotta let me at 'em, Clark!" Brick roared. "Insulted my honor, he did!"

"You smell like crap, Rick. You should at least take a shower before inviting prostitutes over. I didn't know you were into wolf boys, either."

"Why you little," he said, angered before sizing up Clark again and realizing how outmatched he was. "He ain't no whore o' mine. In fact, he's interrupting! Yeah, I was with Lady Sherm, minding my own business..."

"In Brian's office, again?"

"Whazza difference?" Brick said.

"You moron," Clark said, shaking his head like a scolding parent.

"I said I'd take care of it!"

"And what a fine job you've done."

Rick pointed at me over Clark's bicep. "I'm gonna get you, ya little!"

"Why Don't you go back to Lady Sherm, Rick? And use your own lousy room. I'm getting real tired of this."

"You ain't the boss o' me! 'Sides, I gotta deliver justice to this here hood rat piece a!"

"Now Rick, what could this kid have possibly done to trigger you so?"

Rick pouted his lip and stomped once. "Said I was a loser."

"A keen observation, and one with plenty of peer-reviewed corroboration. Get out of my sight, Rick."

"In fairness," I said, "He called me one first. After denying me the viewing I was scheduled for today."

"You stay out of this!" Brick said.

"You did what?" Clark said to Rick. "Oh, my god. You can't be serious. Brain's gonna fry you up for pork rinds, ya worthless idiot. First you hole up in his room while he's out on a trip..."

"Cuz I need the space fir me n' my ladies!"

"And now you're actively scaring off the clientele!"

"And I ain't done yet!" Brick said, trying to make a burst through Brick and failing spectacularly. Clark shoved him back out into the hall, pointing at him:

"Time to go home, Rick."

"Never! I'm gonna get this little creep if it's the last thing I..."

"And it just might be, if you Don't turn around right now."

"Justice, Clark."

"Last chance, Rick."

"I'm gonna get him!"

"Fine," Clark said, and my heart sank in horror as I saw him take one step, giving me visions of being mushed to death-

Then Clark pulled his fist back, and swung like a champion boxer directly to Rick's ugly, crusted snout.

I scrambled, wanting a better view, but I could only see their sides.

"...Clark," he said through a torrent of blood between his hooves as he gripped his mouth. "How could you, man?"

"Want another?" Clark said, his rage now palatable.

Rick didn't wait for another. I saw him stagger backward and run off squealing, emitting unfocused whines of disgust and pain, about how unfair it all was, clanging down the old stairs. Clark shook his head and went back inside, closing the door and turning on the lights before looking on me in tired resignation.

"I'm sorry," I blurted out. "I didn't mean to cause any trouble."

"Huh? Oh, you didn't," he said, walking towards his kitchenette, grabbing a mug of coffee. He stood, taking a long sip. "You're not the first person Brick the Prick has threatened to pummel, nor the first person that I've had to hold him off. He's singlehandedly devalued our property levels to the point we admit people like him to live here as a matter of course."

"Well, thank you, Clark, is it? I'm Derek Peck."

I got up and we shook hands. "Clark Mason. Good to meet ya!"

"Why is Brick still here, anyway?" I asked, straightening myself, getting a view of the apartment.

"It's Brian," Clark sighed. "He still feels a sense of obligation to Brick because he brought him in when he was homeless. Fed him, tried to turn him into a model citizen. Turned a blind spot to all his obvious crises of character. If he kicked Brick out at this point it would amount to an admission of failure. As much as I like Brian, it's that which infuriates me. He discounts my rate to keep me quiet. Sometimes I wonder how he manages to stay profitable."

"Brian's the property manager?"

Clark nodded. "He's the person you probably meant to see today. He had to go out this morning for provisions. Which Brick then took as an invitation to take over his office and call over one of his prostitutes. I feel so bad for them. Brick must save all of his pennies for them." He set his coffee down. "In any case, I'm sure it's immaterial now. Brick won't hurt you. Especially not with me around, and our neighbors, and Brian's own reputation to keep. This place isn't as horrible as the rates and certain clientele would suggest. But I wouldn't blame you if you want to hightail it. To head on back home, think of me to cap off a good night, then find someplace less scary tomorrow."

I cocked my head. "What do you mean, 'think of you'?"

Clark snorted. "Please. You've been ogling me like a horny schoolgirl ever since you laid eyes on me." Through my jaw agape, he continued: "Don't think my concern for your well-being clouds my narcissism. I know that I'd be the first choice of quite of few people. I didn't work on this body to lock it away in a museum. That said, don't let me raise any false hopes. I'm not one for other males - pussy is like my heroin. But I Don't mind the attention. And if you think about me while you're masturbating tonight, I'll consider it a badge of honor."

I started sputtering like an old engine. "I... and you... where did that come from! Weren't we just...? I pointed a finger at nothing as my brain still tried to compartmentalize what I just heard.

"Are you going to tell me," Clark said, "You're just interested as a form of research? Maybe a school project on anatomy?"

"I'm out of school!" I shouted. "Mostly because I dropped out of community college. That's why I'm here, and why I'm looking for a place closer to this job I found so I can piece my life together before it goes off the rails, and oh my god, was it really that obvious?"

Clark nodded solemnly at me. "Couldn't be anything else. A part of you is happy to have gone through a traumatic experience like that for this kind of payoff," he said, flexing an arm.

"You did that on purpose!"

"Yep. I'm sorry, kid, I find you kind of amusing that way."

"'Kid'?"

I'm a couple ticks shy of forty and I still feel like I Don't have this whole 'life' thing nailed down myself. In any case, I like them my own age. And not my sex. I'm sorry."

"Geez, calm down. You wouldn't be the first one."

Clark snorted. "Just making sure. Still, if you're looking for a good time, some of my pals right here may be interested. Do you like bats? Judd, a few doors over, is a flying fox. He's not as hot as I am, but he's closer to your age. And a professional stripper! Maybe he can show you some tricks, you know?"

"Jesus! Thanks."

"Don't mention it," he said. "Now, about your living arrangements..."

"I thought I wasn't going to move here now? Didn't I have to run home and imagine you flexing while beating off?"

"You can still do that here! Don't worry, I can isolate the exact frame you made up your mind to stay. Spooky, isn't it?"

"But I didn't..."

"I was thinking, I'd give Brian a call to confirm that you made it here safe and sound. Despite intervening factors. We'll get to that, oh boy will we ever."

"I'm not staying here!"

"He should be here today if you'd like a more formal tour. You know, laundry areas, the pool, all that stuff."

"Besides, I have to check out other places first."

"You can also give him your home address so we can call the moving company. Complimentary service of Magic Palms. At least there better be, after the treatment you received," Clark said with another flex.

"Oh, well I travel pretty light."

"Especially for someone who has to 'check out other places'."

"Stop doing that!"

Clark took another sip, and walked back into the living room to look me over.

"Let me guess. Your life massively diverged from your daydreams, and you're not happy about it. You feel like an imposter. You're scared out of your mind. And you like other males, which compels you to keep it a secret while directly increasing your urge to be with someone. Am I getting warm?"

"You sound like a horoscope."

"It's called being twenty, sweetheart. You broadcast it loud and clear."

"Would you knock it off, already?"

"And yes, I do have a spare bedroom over there. Want me to show you?"

"But you barely..."

Clark smiled. "What? Know you? So what? How long were you planning on waiting after we met to ask to give me a blowjob?"

"But I-"

"You think that you might come to regret it. And that's entirely possible. But you can always leave if living here doesn't suit you. No one will hold it against you. But I think a new community would be helpful to you. How about I call Brian now? If you Don't have anything else going on today, I could show you your new digs, at least."

I sighed. "You're right, of course."

"This won't take but a minute," he said, picking up a phone from the counter. He held the mobile to his earhole, turning around to his kitchenette. My heart near flew out of my chest when I got to see in mesmerizing detail the outline of his ass in those blue speedos. Before my mouth could water or I could get too excited, my own mobile began screeching. I scrambled around to fish it out, feeling it start to slip out of my paw as soon as I grabbed it, then braced myself for who'd show up on the Caller ID, hoping it was spam, knowing it wasn't.

I tapped accept. "Good morning, Mr Rizzo," I said in reply, leaning back for the inevitable.

"Derek! Good on ya to pick up, mate! I'm in a real bind on this 'un! They've moved up the date on my assignment to tomorrah! Right busting my balls, they ah. I know it's short notice, but if there's any chance you could come by today for a briefing and hit the ground on this 'un, I'd be most obliged. I'll happily file it as overtime pay for you, mate. What d'ya say?"

Not like I could refuse that one. "Of course, Mr Rizzo. When do you need me to be over there?"

"We're gonna start the meeting at 1 o'clock. I'd do it later but we still technically hafta orient you. Oh well. It'll make more sense when ya get here. Oh, and please call me Caaaaah-rl."

"You got it, Carl."

"G'day then! I'll see ya real soon!"

He clicked off, and I slumped back as Clark was still chatting with Brian. 1:00 still gave me a bit of time even with the walk, but the anxiety already hit me when I realized my professional livelihood now depended on feigning interest in front of a bunch of true believers.

The assignment itself was mentioned in passing during the interview process, but the timeframe was left ambiguous. Something about a new restaurant in the area, with a vague sense of ulterior motives on the side.

"You look like you've been through-"

"Gah!" I shrieked, clinging onto a floor lamp, my heart exploding like a box of confused firecrackers.

"Whoa! Whoa, easy dude, it's just me!" Clark said, approaching me like he would a nervous pet. I loosened my grip as a deep shame washed over me like lava.

"What's wrong, Derek, did a ghost call you?"

"No way. That wouldn't bother me at all. It's no big deal. This either, I mean."

He raised an eyeridge. "Clearly."

"I gotta go in. To the office, I mean. They're briefing me on a field assignment. Good grief, that sounded more serious than I meant it to. It's just to get me comfortable before sending me off to my first story."

Clark gave a rather sad chuckle. "Dude, I Don't think you'd know what comfortable meant if it rubbed its silky sheets on your butt."

"No biggie," I shrugged, straightening myself. "Just means we may have to wait until later for the tour. If that's cool, I mean. Give Brick some time to cool down, anyway. And that way I can feel more oriented knowing there's some cash flow with the new gig. I gotta keep that in mind. Oh, god, I Don't even know if I have enough on hand for two months and security deposit."

"Since I've got you in the spare," Clark said, "I Don't reckon it'd be much besides splitting the difference on what I pay for the whole place. It's not as big as the master, but does 30% seem reasonable to you?"

"Ah-hah! There is an advantage to you keeping me here."

"It's okay, Derek. You can put down the giant iron shield. Nobody's hurling spears at you. Anymore."

"Huh?"

"Wanna see your room?" I nodded as I followed him down deeper into the apartment, down a hallway to a closed door. "I'm sorry if it's a bit of a scrum right now. I've been using it for storage. Old exercise equipment, office supplies, that kind of thing."

"Oh, no worries, I Don't mind."

"Here we are then," he said, creaking it open. I chuckled when he led me in with an apologetic timidity - despite the layers of discarded equipment, it was bigger than my room at home.

Clark laughed at that. "And I can imagine what the floor will look like under the layers of dust."

"You ever have anybody here before?" I asked, stepping over a barbell. I tried not to focus too much on the mental image of him using it, biceps flexing, sweat glistening down his arm and bare chest...

"Oh sure. Back when I first moved in here. I mean, I wanted a spare room because it's a common oversight when you have a lady friend over for the first time. I'd always impress 'em by telling 'em I was a boat mechanic."

"Makes sense."

"I'll tell you what: let's go get our shifts over with, then we can talk more over dinner. My treat."

"I can do that," I said. He led me out of the room of stuff, old magazines and guitars and gym bags and mysterious plastics and back into the living quarters, where a few minutes earlier I saw him break somebody's nose.

"Would you like me to drive you?" he asked. "Don't worry, I traded in the motorcycle for an old Honda Civic. It's pushing two hundred thousand but I'm the owner and I know a thing or two about keeping machines alive."

"Thank you for the offer. I should probably get used to walking the distance, though. I Don't want to take advantage of you."

"Well, I Don't want you to be late on your first day."

"It's just a briefing. They'll live, it's not like I'm punching a clock."

"If you're sure. Call me if you need anything, okay?" he said, making sure that I had both his cell and our new home number. "I'll coordinate with Brain, and hopefully we'll get your stuff moved here by tonight. No promises on how much of the clutter you'll have to live with. If it doesn't bother you."

"It won't," I said, creaking the front door open.

"Take the spare key for now," Clark said, handing it to me. "You'll probably beat me home. Also, how about I invite Brian and Judd over for dinner? Gives you something to look forward to."

"Sure man. That sounds solid. I'll catch you later alright?"

He waved goodbye as I headed out. I heard a last call from him-

"Hey! You sure you Don't want an escort against Brick the Prick? I know he won't mess with you now. He knows I'll do one worse on him if he touches you. But just in case, if it makes you feel safer."

"No worries, Clark. I trust your judgment on that."

He nodded and waved again, and I headed back down the stairs as the door closed, back where I swore the boar would have plummeted right through. I held onto the guardrail just in case he'd weakened the structure.

There wasn't a crowd lingering out there per my suspicions, just the same otherwise quiet atrium.

11:38am

The old industrial park wasn't far away, and the stench of frying oil hit me before the old brutalist compound did, straight out of a crumbling soviet holdover. I pulled out my security badge like an obedient livestock as I navigated through its parking lot, people still circling around it in a fury, not paying attention to anyone trying to get in on foot.

I ducked under the crumbling, impotent EAT GOOD signage to the front entrance. Visualizing my first paycheck disappearing into a winter coat to cover my own inadequate fur, I looked forward to getting in where the warmth was-

And the badge didn't work.

It glared back at me like an imbecile, the red light unchanging in its blank expression. Charming. Now to wait for one of the oh-so-busy co-workers to haul into the lot and coast in on the graces of their functioning badge.

A blond stallion came galloping up the stairs after me, gabbing on his phone and swinging a briefcase at his side, chomping as he barked to the other end. I jumped to the side as he slowed down and whipped out his badge from the carabiner, sliding it in front of the light which naturally turned green.

"Anyway, I'm at the office now, gotta hang up. We'll be in sync, alright?" he said as he pushed it open. I gratefully followed behind him, ready to give an earful to whoever assigned this without verifying that it worked.

Before I crossed the threshold, he blocked it with his body, turning around and staring at me, a casual lean against the side.

"Whoa there, big guy," he said, "where do you think you're going?"

My shoulders slumped. "Hey, um, my badge doesn't work," I said, flashing my own to him, "Actually, maybe you could help me? I'm not sure who to talk to, but it really shoulda been working by now."

"Hmm," he said, kneeling for a better look. "Y'know, sometimes they only program your fob so that it works during certain hours. They're very thorough about security here."

"That's so asinine," I said. "Why prevent people from going to work? Especially for the hours they were asked to come in." I tried not to let my anger boil over, but the horse acted oblivious to it anyway.

"On the topic of security, I can't just let you in, y'know."

My lower jaw began to withdraw in a snarl. "Why. Not."

"Company policy! We're not supposed to let anybody in without the proper clearance. That includes people who forget their badges. No free riders! Company wants everybody who walks through this door to be 100% certified."

"I didn't forget my badge," I said, on the verge of screaming.

"I know big guy," he said, "But it could be a fake! It's happened before."

"Oh, has it now."

"Yep," he said, scratching his head. I planted my back paw and was just about ready to do my best middle linebacker and bowl him over on the way to the front desk or whoever was responsible, when from behind me I heard the marsupial hopping of a kangaroo's locomotion:

"G'day, Chance!" said Carl Rizzo to the stallion, slapping at him with a rather obnoxiously elaborate handshake.

"Mr Rizzo," I pleaded, holding my chest as I shivered, "My fob doesn't work. Can you let me in on security override? I'd really like to get to this orientation."

"Derek! Good t' see ya, mate! Don't get a prawn stuck in yer craw, it's no big deal! We'll be happy to take care of this and get you oriented. Come on in!"

Carl led Chance and I through the sliding door and into an empty lobby. "Welcome to Eat Good, Mr Peck," Carl said. "I see you've already met Chance, our chief marketing officer! He's a real cut-up, innit?"

Chance chuckled. "You're too kind, Mr Rizzo."

"Ain't that a 'beaut!" he said, his hopping subsiding to a more typical bipedal stride. "Chance, this is Derek Peck, our new editorial intern. He's got a wicked sharp tongue and knows his way around all our office software. I believe he also possesses the fastest WPM count of any of the applicants."

"Who did you reject for this position?" I muttered.

"And as for me," Carl continued, "I'm the Digital Deputy Managing Edit-ah," he said with a visible puff of pride. "With the help of my staff I think we've turned around Eat Good's online presence. App downloads are up, what, 400%?"

"500," Chance said with his own swelling.

"Ain't that a 'beaut? You'll get to meet more of them soon enough, when you're in the office. I wanted to throw you right in so you can get a feel for the whole operation barrel-to-biscuits, maybe decide where you'd like to go once the internship itself ends. That's an ambiguous end-date, but I figure we play it by ear, yeah? Gonna be a bit experimental as we grow from our humble origins."

"Um, that sounds great," I said, hoping to pass for knowing what he just said.

"There it is, chum!" Carl said.

"Heh, well, I think you two are gonna have a lot of fun," Chance said, pointing to a stairwell. "There's my ride, lots of fun going on. I'll catch you boys later. And good luck, Derek." He saluted and trotted upstairs.

"Thanks, Chance," I said. I knew we weren't on a first-name basis but he hadn't hinted at his surname.

Carl tilted on his long feet like he wanted to slap my backside in congratulations.

"Listen," he said, "Feel free to grab a sit on that couch for a minute, I'm gonna go confirm we have that conference room. The staff will start filing in soon before long. You'll meet our ace photographer, for one. I'd like to pair you off on the assignment. He's a real bloomin' expert in his field, and I think he'll do his best to make you comfortable." I must have betrayed a flash of fear, because he added, "Don't you worry, chum. We'll take good care of ya. We're not gonna thrust you right to the gladiators. It's all about getting the process down, y'know."

"Sure," I said. "Thanks."

"There's my good boy! Now you sit tight while I get all this sorted. Feel free to grab a 'zine and check out some of our earlier stories - it doesn't all go online unless you're a paid subscriber. Which, of course, you receive a free one as part of your benefits package. Hold tight now," he said, hopping away.

I plopped down on the empty sofa and pulled out my phone, thumbing through the contacts list. I thought about giving Hank a ring - "See, look, I did make it here after all." - or there was Gina right above. There weren't any incoming messages, so nothing that demanded a hasty reply.

I minimized the screen and pulled up a mindless infinite scrolling game to bash away at while I waited. While I racked up some gold coins, the doors whirred open again and in walked a couple of employees. The midsection of an argument slapped me sober and I could only pretend to concentrate on the game as they carried on oblivious to any coworkers.

"Look Chris, it isn't anybody's fault what happened," said a panda who looked fresh out of a graphic design degree.

"You're the layout 'expert', so you should have known better," a white tiger growled at him, fangs bared. He waved around a tablet computer while an expensive Nikon DSLR dangled from his neck. The scent of his cologne hit me at even that distance, soaked through his name-brand polo shirt and jeans. "We're all lucky that Carl and I caught this before it went to print. Way to make me look like an absolute amateur, Jin."

"It's the same file you gave me for layout. Are you seriously accusing me of altering the photo to make it look blurrier? None of us have even seen the raw images. Is it so outside the realm of possibility that the great Chris Dallas could ever screw something up?"

"Not when I have the degree and the portfolio to prove that I'm not the awful hack you're making me out to be."

"Ooh, there you go, always defaulting to that precious degree. Have you considered asking them for a refund?"

"They oughta refund you!" the tiger screamed, throwing the tablet at a nearby wall like a discus, shattering it into a trillion pieces. I winced, hoping a shard of glass wouldn't cut anyone, the fake concentration on my mobile phone and my latent desire for invisibility making it harder for me not to bolt right past them and out the door in the hopes they'd never find me.

"Is it a prerequisite for managerial positions that you shift all responsibility onto your underlings? Does Carl know about that? It seems like a great way to tank your company."

"Don't preach to me about responsibility! You're the one who set it to print, stamped it for approval. And that leads me to believe that if you're not hopelessly stupid, then you're actively trying to destroy my reputation because you think you can somehow do better, or maybe you resent me because I've worked harder than you. Do you know how many times I've been published? Even I Don't, because I've lost count. I've got more awards lining my walls than you have participation trophies."

"Oh, and what awards were they? Sixth place at the county fair for inept hobbyists? Or did you blue-ribbon it in the psychotic loser category? You just can't stand the fact that somebody here doesn't just suck up to you and your fake Rolex. No, you can never be called upon to provide an ounce of self-awareness and admit the possibility that your own work isn't up to your standards."

"Either that or you're just trying to gaslight me so I end up quitting in a nervous breakdown before they can me. Then you can take over all of my jobs that you think you can do so much better."

"I Don't want your worthless career," Jin said. "I just want to pay off my tuition and start my life without some gutless, mean-spirited ogre breathing down my neck projecting his own massive failures."

"Yeah? You think you can pull a little stunt like this again? I'll skip the middleman and send it to Carl directly, and if you send in substandard work like that again, you'll be thrown out of here for a failure to perform your basic duties as prescribed."

"Not a problem, Chris. Just be sure to send me something good next time, instead of the sad trash you sent us here. Maybe take a refresher or go back to school at a real university this time."

"I'll have you know-"

"That if you Don't get out of my way right now..."

The panda stomped out of there, face screwing up in the overt rage he wouldn't show to the tiger, who stood there a moment longer, fists balled, a growl etched on him like a marble sentry at one of his mansions.

After doing his best impression of a landmine, Chris stormed away, back out into the freezing morning, fuming like a cigarette long before he'd finished clearing the proscribed minimum distance from the building. My phone screen went dark before I numbly recollected myself.

"You ready to go, chap?"

I almost launched the phone out of my hand for the third time that day when I caught it, my heart ready to jump through my snout.

"Whoa, Derek, it's just me!" Carl said, placing a hand on my shoulder, trying hard to be reassuring. "God, mate, the color's drained all out of your face. Did you run across a ghost? Maybe I shouldn't leave you alone."

I shuddered. "Didn't you hear the commotion just now?"

"What, that? Sure, our staff can be a little hot-spirited, but that's just a healthy devotion to their jobs. It's nothing to fret about; I haven't had to call HR yet!"

"Well, you should watch where you hop. Somebody threw a tablet against that wall over there."

"Oh, dear," he said, looking at the dent and the smattering of glass. "I'll have custodial services lay down some cones and get that cleaned up." He tapped through his phone.

"It was a white tiger in a polo shirt named Chris, talking to a panda named Jin. Could you at least talk to them and maybe try to defuse whatever's going on between then before we all end up with head trauma?"

"Now Derek," Carl said, "There's no reason to linger on such negativity. You shouldn't let a little emotional competitiveness dissuade you. Come on now," he said, taking my hand like a parent. "I think you'll like the staff, once you get a better picture of your true selves."

"Sure," I said, my face pale as we went around the exit toward the other side of the building. "Did they manage to fix my badge problem? It's sort of demotivating when I'm not allowed in my own workspace."

"I spoke with the building manager about that. Why Don't you give it a try, old chum?"

I obliged him and swiped it in front of the main door. "Hosanna," I said as the indicator beeped a happy green and we got the doubles open.

This side was a bit livelier, with more fake plants, a table full of discarded and fading magazines, and even a receptionist stuck behind a desk in back, kicked back and deep out of concentration as somebody kept her on the line. Either that or she was playing a ruse to skip the introductions.

Carl was oblivious either way. "G'day, Carol!" he beamed. He turned to me and said, "Give me just one more minute so I can get the room set and rally the troops." He gave the subtlest nod to the pine marten behind the desk, then raised his eyebrow at me with a smirk while pointing to his ring finger.

Oh, for the love of, I thought, shaking my head, not wanting to relive 'that' conversation again, and naturally falling into it as he hopped away and I sank back into the guest's sofa.

Thanks, I'll keep it in mind. Well, aren't you interested mate? She's wonderful, just not my type. You like 'em bigger, Don't ya? You could say that. Say no more! I'll get you hooked up right proper! Please stop. You Don't understand. I'm not interested. I'll never be interested. Well what's the matter? Going through a bad breakup? Can we please keep work and personal lives separate?

Carl came back up to me with his ever so friendly hand on the shoulder. "Ready, chum? Or should I give you a minute?" he winked at me, and in my peripheral vision I saw the pine marten roll her eyes and smack her forehead.

"Actually, yes. Carl. I think I will just ask the secretary something."

"You dog, you!" he said, punching my shoulder. Again. "Ha-ha. It's funny, see, because you're a wolf. Just come on by when you're ready!"

"Will do," I said as Carl bounded joyfully away, clapping his hands. "This is what I get for putting 'single' on my tax returns," I said when he was gone.

"I'll say," the marten said, putting her phone down. "I thought that senile crank would never leave."

My alternate-universe-hetero incarnation could very well find her attractive. Her coat was a bright white that she'd dyed a tasteful pink in the outer layers, which complimented her feminine curves. "He seems nice," I said, leaning against the marble.

"He's an overbearing lunatic. I've worked with him for fourteen years in one company or another. Not even in consecutive terms. I think he's just hopping mad."

It was a stupid joke, and I burst out in a horrifyingly girly fit of giggles. Maybe I was still decompressing from the almost-brawl sending my adrenal glands into a swollen state of explosion, but I near fell right on my ass again as I clutched my stomach, trying not to turn my snorts into howling stupid guffaws.

"Wow," she said, leaning over, "I didn't know he already broke you. I send my condolences for the loss of your personhood and dignity."

"Don't worry," I said, straightening myself, "I never had those to begin with. Just out of curiosity, is that a regular occurrence? Is Carl one of those guys who can't fathom why anybody would ever be single, ever?"

"I've tried telling him I'm a lesbian, but then he immediately recanted and tried hooking me up with girls. It was cute because he tried to be very sensitive about the whole ordeal, didn't want to 'assume' anybody's orientation. Then I said I was asexual, which he flat out didn't believe, and finally I had to lie and tell him I was dating an amorphous being somewhere in another country. I think he got the hint, but his instincts still kick in when new meat walks through that door."

"Doesn't that go against every company bylaw ever?"

"Yeah, but these are the people who decided slides and 'open air' workstations were a good idea. I Don't think the old standards of intra-office dating will stick around for much longer, and then it's open season on those of us who still cling to the archaic notion of work/life separation. Hold on," she said as the phone rang for real this time. "Oh, hi Tina," she said, lips curling up in the first smile I'd seen out of her. I indicated that it was time for me to head back, which she didn't quite register. I shrugged it off and walked to the conference room where Carl sat.

"Blasted IT guys aren't here today!" he said as I entered. His tongue stuck out as he held a fistful of wires out from a projector, paws moistened with sweat as he ran back to his laptop. The wall behind him glowed with the empty projection of a blank screen, with only a "no input source detected" in faint white 8 point letters.

"Oh, here, let me take a gander," I said. I switched over the source monitor from his laptop, and the wall switched to a mirror of its screen, "HDMI 1" displayed in the top right corner. "That should do it."

"Christ! What do I need those guys for, eh? Thanks a ton, Derek. We're still waiting for the rest of the crew to show up, but it's okay if they're a bit late because I wanted to sit ya through the orientation. It won't take long."

I nodded and grabbed a seat at the far end, where I could keep a better eye on whoever did filter in.

"How did ya find Carol? I bet she rather struck your fancy."

"She's nice," I said, nodding with a firm lack of commitment.

"There's a few other girls here too, but y' wouldn't know it from the smell of the sausage fest, y'know?"

"So," I said, "Do I need to take a quiz or something with this intro?"

"Huh?" he said. "Ah, you know what? To hell with the stupid intro video. You know how not to sexually harass people or steal office supplies right? Right. Good," he said, sliding a folder and a pen over to me. "Just go ahead and review that and send it to me before I deploy you chaps. Won't take but a minute."

"Sure," I said, opening it up. While I perused the contents, skimming over the legalese I'd seen a billion times, initialing over the highlighted consecutive underscores, Carl was kicked back, his enormous feet on the long executive table, chuckling over some viral video involving angry wet cats.

As I glanced at a paragraph regarding the Acceptable Drug Use policy, Jin Li the panda stomped in, still scowling. I tried to offer him a smile and wave to indicate he could sit next to me, but he was putting on the blinders to all external stimuli. It would be presumptuous to get involved, and yet, given that we'd share a work environment, I felt a certain obligation to intervene before it fell in my own lap.

Another person entered, this one I hadn't seen before. He had the same Nikon strapped to his neck, though it rested on a red flannel shirt, which hung small on his frame - at least 6'5'', defined biceps, a winning smile under a crew cut. A thwapping tail trudged behind from a specialized pair of blue jeans; unlike Jin, the beaver smiled and waved at me, which I returned.

"Hi!" I said, extending a paw before he had a chance to disappear. "I'm Derek Peck. New editor writer thing."

"Well gosh, it's a pleasure to meet you!" the beaver said, shaking it. "My name's Norman Dakota. I'm on contract here, based out of our Edmonton office. Just flew down here, staying in Long Beach for a while, getting to know the rest of the staff."

Oh my god, Carl, if you're gonna set people up then why not him_._

"That's cool! How's the family? Do you travel a lot?" I gulped at the question. I thought it would be subtle enough, but I still punched myself on the inside.

"My wife is cool with it. She travels for her job as well, but we always make sure to have one of us at home to supervise our two rascals."

"That's so sweet," I said, his clothes snapping right back on in my mind. Maybe he's bi. And there's an open relationship agreement.

Then came the white tiger, wearing his own camera. He slicked his tophair back and affected a cocky grin. Chris scanned the room, looking for an opening away from Jin Li, and to my inevitable horror plopped himself down right next to me. He leaned back and started tinkering on a new tablet, messing around with a project of his.

I sank back as Carl finished with his cats and turned to the room.

"Right! I see that most of you have arrived, so we'll begin with the... ah, fantastic! Now that you're here, Miss Renard? Please take a seat and I'll begin."

A red vixen entered with a laptop, kicking the door shut behind her. She was greeted by a slack-jawed gape from Norman the Beaver and a raised eyebrow from Jin Li. She sat opposite me with a flirtatious wave - surely that was meant for Chris, right?

"For those of you who've not met her," Carl said, "this is JoAnn Renard, our Senior Editor. Derek, she'll be your guide out on the field - feel free to relax, get acquainted with the process, and ask her any questions you might have."

"Of course," she said, leaning across the table to shake my paw. I took it, watching her lightning bolt necklace dangle between her remarkable cleavage. "It's lovely to meet you, Derek. I'm open for anything you may need."

"I can see that," I said. "I mean, thank you. Look forward to working together on the project."

"Charmed," she said, sitting back down. Chris playfully slugged me on the shoulder - I was getting tired of that - and trilled a roar.

"Well, it's official," Carl said, "We've been granted exclusive press coverage for the opening of Harvey Haley's new restaurant - The Predator's Inn." He flipped a slide toward a few shots of it under construction. "Thanks to our borrowed friend, Mr Dakota, for providing these, and for coming by to see us before returning to Edmonton. I know that Mr Dallas here will find great synergy with Ms Renard, Mr Peck, and Mr Li. I love seeing our new team come together! Derek, I'm also looking forward to your synergy with Chris."

"Me too," Chris said, shaking my shoulder. "I like the sample work you sent the company."

"Yes, you are certainly an interesting creature!" JoAnn said.

"You shared that stuff with other people?" I gulped. "It was supposed to be-"

"Aw, there's no need to thank me," Carl said with a wave of the hand. "I know that artists like you crave recognition from their peers."

A chorus of "Mmhmm" went around the table.

"Anywho, Haley himself will be presiding over opening night. That's where we come in. Doors open at 7, but we'll be granted press coverage at 6 for the interview. I suggest showing up a little early to give yourself time to form an impression of the new digs. Remember, your combined talents will be presenting our big cover story for the upcoming issue."

"Why Don't we take my car?" Chris said. "Cheaper and cozier than the ol' press vans." Jin Li rolled his eyes.

"Oh, I've never ridden in a Maxi-Mini," JoAnn said. "They had the old models back home in Bristol."

"Oh good, he's already showing off mommy's birthday present," Jin Li said.

Chris only smiled. "What can I say? I have a passion for quality craftsmanship. There's nothing worse than inferior product masquerading as competent, wouldn't you agree?"

Carl started chuckling. "You American kids should just be happy you Don't have to navigate across a desert hellscape being chased by zombie koalas."

"Or a frozen tundra filled with zombie hockey players," Norman said.

"Well then!" I yelped, "Shall we get a move on? Before zombie bald eagles start defecating radioactive waste on us?"

Carl slapped the table and guffawed like a drunken hyena. "You'll have your own column before long," he said as we all stood up.

"Come on, then," Chris said. "Not all of you have met Maxine in person, and I'm sure you'll love the heck out of her."

"You named your Mini-Maxi Maxine?" JoAnn said.

"That's right! Maxine the Mini-Maxi."

"Stop talking," Jin Li rumbled.

For a minute, he complied as the four of us filtered out to grab our supplies from the press room - I took the company laptop with my name slapped across it, stuffed it in my Jansport and headed outside. Chris led us through the empty parking lot, pulling out his keys and beeping open the vehicle, a British Racing Green box with a checkerboard roof and little union jack flags sticking out of the window.

JoAnn said, "Cute. I'm taking the back seat since I have shorter legs."

"Same," Jin Li said. "I'll join you."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Chris smiled as he opened the driver side door. "Come on, Derek. You deserve something nicer than public transportation."

I snapped back. "How did you know? Is my poverty that obvious?"

"Dude, the bus pass is still dangling from your pocket," he said, pointing to the badge at my hip.

We closed the doors and he turned the key, the six cylinders popping to live like an excited puppy. I placed the Jansport near my feet under the dash. "I just wanted to make you more comfortable," he continued. "You looked a little haggard. And I figure hey, we're not such bad dudes, right?"

"Know how you can prove it?" JoAnn said. "Take us out for a bite before the job. We have some spare time and I'm starving."

"There's a gastropub brewery deal not far from here," Chris said. He signaled to get onto the main road, and we took a brief highway detour to the pub. On the way, Chris fiddled with the radio to find something inoffensive to beat down the silence. While he flipped the dials, my sight fell on a toy in the compartment ahead of the gearshift. It was a little smiling stuffed panda, arms outstretched, with big green eyes and a round belly.

I said, pointing, "Does he have a name?"

"Hmm?" Chris said. "Oh! You like my little panda friend? His name's Jet."

I nodded - he took it out and handed it to me. His soft fur felt like an expensive blanket, super warm, and I got a pleasant scent of a distant cologne from it - somebody's been snuggling the panda, but it was a tad stale, as though a relic from a while ago.

"You really like that little guy," Chris said, amused at my antics.

"Something about cute pandas, man. I can't resist."

He chuckled. "You should have him, then."

"But he's yours."

"He hasn't really gotten the love he deserves lately. I'd rather him be with someone who'll actually give him snuggles and attention, than just lay there in my car collecting dust."

"I like him too," JoAnn said, leaning over to get a better view. I held it a bit closer to her so she could pet it. When she leaned back into her seat I held it closer to me.

"I'm happy to take him," I said. "If it's cool with you."

"Don't mention it," he said with a smile.

Chris signaled as we made it to the offramp, heading down the main boulevard toward the gastropub.

1:15pm

"There it is!" JoAnn pointed out, the big Animal Tavern neon signature still burning bright in the midday glare. We turned off the road into the parking lot, finding a spot near the front. I remembered that it was still an odd time for the 8-to-5ers, so we'd have most of the pub to ourselves. We grabbed our stuff as Chris parked and killed the engine, then headed out toward the pub, the beep of locked doors reverberating in the empty lot.

The ambient light dropped a thousandfold as we wandered under the front arch toward the server. It was pitch black until my eyes adjusted and we saw the waiter in front, his black work outfit concealing all his features - except for the enormous plume of tailfeathers spreading out behind him like a canvas.

"Hello there, welcome to Animal Tavern!" the peacock said with an armful of menus. "Just the four of you today? Follow me, please."

The tavern was done up like a medieval dungeon punctuated by giant brewing barrels of beer, and a long bar that stretched the length of the wall with at least a million dollars' worth of liquor dotting the shiny mirrored shelves. It was staffed by no less than a dozen tenders, including a bulldog, a markhor, and a sable, who waved to us as we were led further down into the pit.

"Would you believe I've never been here?" I asked.

The peacock said, "We try to make this place a friendly escape from your daily life."

"What's your name?" I asked the peacock.

"Frank Whelan, at your service," he said with a bow.

"Ah-hah!" JoAnn said. "Then I have seen you around. You've been working here ever since I first came to the States. You were such a sweetheart, dealing with my foreign awkwardness."

"JoAnn Renard! Oh, my stars, I can't believe I didn't recognize you!" They embraced over Jin Li, who looked none too happy about it. Frank said as they parted, "Why, has it really been so long? I remember you were just in college."

"Yep, I've been bouncing back and forth between our two lovely countries. Turns out Eat Good is taking their multinational market pretty seriously."

"That's right," Chris said. "Remember Norman? Big cute beaver dude? He's been down here for a few weeks as well."

"Please, send him my regards!" Frank turned to me. "Gosh, I'm quite sorry, are you a new addition to the crew? Please Don't let me exclude you."

"I'm Derek," I said, shaking his hand. "Yeah, I'm JoAnn's new editorial intern slash sidekick. I just met all these guys today for the first time."

"Charmed! I've been serving the Eat Good crew for over a decade in all its permutations. You gotta tell me," Frank said, turning to Chris. "Is Carl still as insane as I remember?"

"And the first to admit it," Chris said.

"Well," Jin Li said, "All this reminiscing has been wonderful, but if you Don't mind, I'd like a straight scotch, neat."

"Classic businessman!" Frank said. "How about the rest o' you chaps? Derek, are you over 21? I might need to see your ID."

"Huh? Oh, sure," I said, reaching into my wallet and handing it to him.

"Well!" he said, glancing it over. "Happy belated birthday, Mr Peck," he said, handing it back to me. My brain itched as I looked at it myself. Apparently, I turned 21 last week without knowing it.

"Oh, wow. Thank you," I said, putting it away.

"Well then!" Chris said. "That, I was not aware of! Get whatever you'd like, Derek, on me. Do you have a favorite drink?"

"Erm, well, no," I said, "I kinda..."

"Irish coffee!" Frank said, near jumping out of his suit. "If you haven't been here before, then you deserve to sample our signature drink."

I laughed. "Alright then. Irish coffee," I said.

"Gin and tonic," JoAnn said.

"And I'm DDing, so just a water, please," Chris said.

"Got it," Frank said. "I'll have your orders here in a jiffy. It's nice to meet you, Derek!" he said, bounding away.

"I'll be right back," Chris said, stretching. "Gotta empty the tank." He walked to the restroom, leaving me with JoAnn and the ever pouting Jin Li, who gazed off into the middle of the aisle.

"Hey JoAnn," I asked. "Is everything okay with...?" I tilted my head to the left. "Or is this normal?"

"Oh, that?" she said with a mirroring tilt. "It's hard to get a read on it sometimes. It's probably nothing."

"I know what you're talking about, you jerks," Jin Li said, glaring at me. "You Don't have to treat me like some foreign object. I know what you think of me."

"Dude, I'm just worried about you," I said. "I saw what happened between you and Chris earlier, and..."

"That's just it! You humiliated me! Why didn't you come help me instead of livestreaming our fight on your phone?"

"You really wanted someone else to get involved in one of your embarrassing scraps?" JoAnn said. "It's not his concern that you two have temper problems."

"Also, I wasn't livestreaming anything," I said.

Chris had made his way back to the table with a sad, embarrassed twist on his face. "Oh. My episode. I'm sorry you had to see that."

"Look, I didn't know what to do. It wasn't any of my business."

"It isn't fair to thrust something like that onto you in a workspace," Chris said, sitting down. "I'm sorry. I just get scared and flip out, taking it out on you, which you Don't deserve."

"Oh, shut up!" Jin shouted, slamming his fist on the table. "You're only apologizing now because you're trying to save face in public. You Don't want to deal with the fallout and the ramifications, and you hope that a quick fake mea culpa will suffice, that I'll come crawling right back into your lap, and everyone will just forgive you, that it'll all be okay until you figure out another way to treat me like garbage."

Jin Li emitted a bitter scoff, then stood up. "I'll be in the car."

Frank the waiter came back with a tray of drinks, smiling and dancing. "Sorry I took so long! We had to open a new..." he stopped in his tracks, eyes wide and beak contorted in a frown. "Hey? What happened here? Where's the panda?"

Chris pleaded in silence. JoAnn crossed her arms, shaking her head, while I sat in confused resignation.

"Oh," Frank said, handing us our drinks.

"Regardless, I shan't let it ruin the evening," JoAnn said. "We still have our jobs, and Jin Li will see to it that we act as professionals, and as colleagues, regardless of any tumultuous history."

I took a sip of the Irish coffee. "You might want to temper those expectations," I muttered, cradling the mug in my paw, watching the foam drift around on the rim.

"I'll be nearby," Frank said. "Let me know if you guys need anything."

As Frank walked away, Chris looked down at his paw holding the water glass, the condensation fluffing up his fur.

"You mentioned that you flip out when you become scared," I said, taking a deeper drink. "I suppose there's more going on than a handful of grainy pictures. Is a bad breakup fair to assume?"

"Yeah right," Chris said. "Like I'd date some punk fresh out of college."

"That's too bad," I said.

"I mean, it's not that I never would, but I couldn't. Not with him, anyway."

I nodded. "Sounds like a song I've danced to myself."

"I suppose the pictures were just one part of it. They... weren't up to my usual standard. And if I show any obvious signs of a deterioration, it's my neck on the block. It was easier to blame Jin for screwing up the copy."

"You're worried about getting fired?" I asked.

JoAnn said: "Carl acts like the outbursts Don't bother him at all, but there's always the chance a higher-up finds themselves downwind of a catastrophe and decides he's not company material."

"Sounds like you're putting more pressure on yourself than necessary," I said. "It's just a dumb job. You can always find another. What's with these pictures, anyway?"

"See for yourself," he said. Chris leaned in closer to me so I could operate the gallery function on his Nikon. I scooted in, and noticed the familiar scent of cologne - it was the kind all over Jet the Stuffed Panda, smooth and modern without being overbearing.

"Let me see," I said, nuzzling myself down and leaning into his shoulder. His fur was so soft; JoAnn raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything.

"I love your stripes," I said. "Bet I can change them."

"Hmm?"

"Oh, right," I said, holding the camera carefully in my paws at the angle, clicking right through the gallery. "I like these ones. They're not all work related, either. I'm not an expert on composition or anything, but they Don't look cut-rate to me, even on the small monitor."

"Nope," he said. "Some of it's just pure art stuff." His smooth baritone rumbled through me. On the small viewscreen, I could make out details of buildings I'd passed by hundreds of times, looking alive like I never imagined possible. The stodgy old concrete and steel messes gave way to a vibrant nightscape, glowing with the blue and green lights all around. I cycled right through a few more, bringing out the details in each.

After the city, there were portraits of our co-workers. He extracted a goofy grin out of Carl, JoAnn looking extra busty, and then...

"Look at that," I said, seeing for the first time a smiling Jin Li. He was poised, confident, and warm. "Whatever happened to this guy here?" There were a few more, and then I made it to a still of Jin and Chris, smiling together, holding up Jet the Stuffed Panda triumphantly.

"We won him during one of those county fairs," Chris said. "Eat Good had a booth, so we went around to all the funnel cake and fried candy bar stands, and on one of our breaks we went over to one of those rigged basketball games. Without really trying because I knew the carnies cheated, I swished it! My jaw was agape as the twofer confetti blew out and the grumpy looking oryx allowed us the choice between some of the bigger stuffed animals."

"Jet was one of the bigger ones?"

"There weren't any white tigers, so I suggested the panda. It would be like your little bro, I told him, so he laughed and agreed, and then we took the picture with all three of us. That oryx musta thought we were the corniest couple at the park."

"Were you?" I asked.

He paused. "He was just my co-worker," Chris said.

"Maybe - but you wanted the oryx to be right. The concept felt so right for you, didn't it?"

"It wouldn't have worked out," Chris said.

"Did you ever try?"

"I asked him... if we were friends. He said sure man, of course we're friends. Then as we were walking, I took him on the Ferris wheel - terrible, I know - and I broached the idea that in my heart I felt like he was more than a friend."

"How did he take it?" I asked, taking a drink.

"I was evasive about it."

"Were you afraid he'd say no?"

"I was afraid he'd hate me for it."

"Incompatible orientation?" I shivered.

"I'm not even sure," Chris said. "I just couldn't muster to say it outright - like I'd tip some fragile equilibrium. It's never the same after an announcement like that."

"You wouldn't be the first person to lose a friend that way. Did you guys ever fight before today?"

"Yeah, but I've never thrown a tablet," he said.

"Then there's the other angle," I said. "I'm surprised that a guy like you is so concerned about his job security. You're an obviously competent photographer, so why Don't you try freelancing it, or find a new job? I mean, do you even need the money?"

"Okay, fine, I had rich parents. Would it be better if I just sponged off them my entire life?"

"Everyone wants to find their purpose," I said. "I just wonder if this is yours. It isn't doing your mental health any favors."

"I like photography," he said.

"Do you love it?" I asked.

"It's not a fair question," he said. "What you love doesn't necessarily put food on the table."

"I know, man. And I commend you for trying."

"I get it; it's no fun if you have to deal with an unstable coworker."

I stared at his face, pondering.

"They kicked you out for being gay, didn't they?"

Time slowed to a crawl, and I saw him do it before it even registered in my senses. He took the water glass and, with the ferocity and savage strength of a professional shot-putter, launched it into the barside wall next to us, an explosion even more spectacular than his tablet, drops of water and glass shards proliferating like a virus as he balled his fists and ran towards the exit at a fevered sprint.

I sat back. Nobody was on our side when he threw it, so the nearest bartender gasped and turned around, assessing the carnage, telling everyone to stay away from the broken glass. He and a colleague grabbed a broom and a dustpan and began cleaning up the worst of it, while another brought out a ship vac for the water and the smaller shards.

Frank approached my table cautiously, clutching the billfold to his chest. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Um, could we put that on the company tab?" JoAnn said. "Sorry, Frank."

"Of course," Frank said. "Don't worry about it. Would any of you like me to call you a ride home?"

"We still have an assignment," JoAnn said.

"I wouldn't blame you for quitting," Frank said.

"Why give up now?" I asked. "Anyway. Thanks for being cool, Frank. I appreciate you not calling the cops on us."

"Oh, it's not the first drama we've dealt with in here," he said. "Kinda comes with the alcoholic territory."

I got up to shake his hand, but then I decided, screw it. I leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. He blushed, and put his hand behind his head, his tailfeathers ruffling.

"Well, thank you," Frank said. "Please come again."

"There's a first time for everything," I told him, waving goodbye and heading for the exit.

Back at Maxine the Mini-Maxi, Jin Li was hunched over under a blanket in the backseat, the glow of a handheld gaming console visible through it. JoAnn leaned against the car, a long cigarette lazily drifting its ashes away as she stared into the closing embers of the evening sun.

"Did our chauffer swing by here?" I asked her.

"You mean the striped clown?" she said, taking a protracted drag and shuddering. "Yeah, I think I saw him stomping around over there somewhere, reverting back to his primal nature and pouncing on trash cans."

"We're going to be late," Jin muffled under the blanket.

"Why Don't you come outside for a minute while we're waiting?" she said.

"I'm busy," he said.

"You're playing on a portable game console."

"Exactly," Jin said.

Chris stared at the ground as he walked back towards us, a residual anger colliding with profound embarrassment.

"Hey sexy," I said. "Feeling a little better?"

"No," he grumbled, fishing around for his keys.

"Look, I'm sorry for striking a nerve," I said. "I hate to bring up the obvious, but you should consider getting some professional help. There are specialty LGBT councilors who can help you cope with these kinds of feelings and how to act on them."

"I Don't know," he said. "It's not really covered on the company plan. Let's just go, alright?"

Jin and JoAnn filed in, as Chris turned on the engine and we set back out. The rumble of the engine, the smell of the faux-leather seats put me back in a trance for the highway. They both stared out opposite windows.

5:42pm

We arrived to a swarm of media hounds and upper-crust early customers with clacking pearls and overpriced Italian suits in swarms of limos.

"Everyone got their press badges ready?" JoAnn asked.

"Think we can use them to muscle aside the old money pillars?" Jin said, watching the animals flood around the entrance. "Assuming we Don't have to park somewhere in the next county."

"We'll be fine," Chris said. "Hey look, I think I see our designated spot." He pulled the Mini around to a red roped section of parking lot, guarded by a bulldog in a tuxedo, hands behind his back as he surveyed the incoming traffic with loathing indignation.

Chris rolled down the window as we pulled up to him. "Howdy," he said, flashing his badge. "We're with Eat Good Magazine."

"Papers," he grunted with a sigh.

Chris withdrew the badge, his smile faltering slightly. "Oh. Alright. Hold on," he said, pulling out his bag to start digging through. "Anybody else got a copy of the release?"

"Hang on, maybe," I said, grabbing my own. I saw Jet the Panda smiling up at me, arms outstretched for a hug while I thumbed through my worksite initiation folder. I pulled it out, unable to hold down the grin as I put the bag away. "Is this what you're looking for?"

Chris took the paper. "Right, here we-"

A horn blared behind us, and in a shrill register someone shouted, "Come on, we Don't have all day!"

Chris's eye twitched as he handed the press papers to the bulldog valet. An angry poodle driving a BMW 5-series continued laying on the horn, howling and screaming at us.

"You're all in order," the bulldog said. "Have a fabulous time."

Before Chris could leave, JoAnn said, "Hold on, Chris. Wait a minute, Gene? Is that you?" She rolled down the window to look at the bulldog, who dropped his snobbish countenance for an expression of terror and bewilderment.

"Oh, um, I Don't know who you-"

"Gene Winston! I recognize that scowl anywhere! How on earth did you wind up here in the States, as well?"

At this point, the poodle behind us was literally screaming obscenities at us. JoAnn turned to us and winked. Chris bit his lower lip, snorting, while Jin Li grabbed his blanket and crawled into it, trying to disappear.

"I'm sorry," Gene said, "I Don't recognize you. Please, pull in front so we can service the other..."

"Oh, bulldog! Ha-ha! Get it! Of course, you know me! JoAnn Renard? Your classmate from five years ago, the one you tried to sleep with but turned you down because I had a massive and throbbing hangover and didn't want another head like that thrust in me at that point?"

Gene's white jowls went red, and he scratched the back of his neck. "Oh. Hi, JoAnn. It's nice to see you."

"Oh, dispense with the formality, already!" she shouted. She opened the door and jumped out, embracing Gene in an enormous bear hug. Chris gripped the steering wheel, trying not to erupt into laughter. I pulled my knees up and rocked back and forth, starting to lose my own composure. "It's so great to see you again!" she yelped, putting him down, kissing him on the cheek.

Then the poodle jumped out of her own car and started bellowing at the top of her lungs. "What do you think you're doing!" she yelled, grabbing gravel from the lot and throwing it towards them. "We are on a very strict time schedule and we cannot be late or-"

JoAnn ignored the ravings with impunity. "So, are you seeing anyone now? How'd they get you to stiff up for this dumb gig, anyway? Let me guess, you're a full-time sommelier, taking this for some extra bucks? Have you personally met Harvey Haley yet? Maybe tasted any of his meats?"

Chris gasped for breath between his stifled guffaws. Jin Li crawled into a full fetal position, looking like just a lump of sheets in the back seat. My eyes widened as I saw the poodle began stamping towards us, in her overpriced pink dress with tacky glittering rocks. She went right up into JoAnn's face, balling her fists.

"Pay attention to me! I am a very important person!"

JoAnn took one half-step back. "Well, it was nice catching up with you again, Gene. Maybe we can get coffee at some point. Sound good?"

He nodded, jaw clenched.

"Fantastic! I'll join you for coffee sometime. Maybe actually sleep with you this time! When you're not so swamped. Bye-bye!" She kissed his cheek, then went back in and signaled Chris to get going.

"Hello! Acknowledge me! I am talking to you, missy!" the poodle shouted behind us, stomping her paw behind us and flipping out on poor Gene.

Chris almost lost control of the vehicle laughing at the spectacle she'd caused. "Holy Christ!" he said, between streams, "That was beautiful."

"You've made a powerful enemy," Jin Li muttered under the sheet.

"It's alright, Pan," she said. "The Danger has passed. You can come out now."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," he said, poking his head out from the blanket but still curled in a down position.

"Oh, don't be so paranoid," JoAnn said. "I've dealt with petulant yentas like that my entire life. Most of them have been so deprived of a sufficient dressing-down in all their experience that such a shock to their system is an outright favor."

Chris killed the engine as we gathered our materials, exiting out into the cold dusk air, invited into the spotlight-laden spectacle in front of us.

I slung my satchel behind me and waded into the crowd, through a sea "Oh, yes, positively delightful!" and "Have you _seen_my latest commercial?" I assumed some of the bigwigs from our television affiliate were there to soak up the extemporaneous glory, and asked JoAnn if we should expect any specific hothead personalities to make our lives difficult.

"It'd be hard to out-alpha Harvey," she said as we nearly bumped into a tuxedoed mob of grifters.

Jin Li said, "This degree of pomp and circumstance is new, even for the network," as someone threw a trayful of Champaign flutes at us.

JoAnn took a sip and tossed it aside. "Come on, we enter through the back."

"Har-har," Chris said, fist-bumping me.

"You two can bang later. With any luck, Frank hasn't been invited to this event. Ah! Here we go," she said as we approached a pachyderm bouncer at the rear entrance, sunglasses at night with hooved crossed.

We flashed our badges. "Please tell me we Don't need papers again," Chris said.

The elephant snorted out his trunk. "Right this way, keep together, try not to break anything."

The onslaught of light gave me a headache; I grabbed the anti-glaucoma shades from my pack and walked through the cleanest kitchen I'd ever seen in my life. An army of chefs and line cooks paced about, visibly sweating from nerves despite the relative coolness of the kitchen. A weasel in a chef's hat clasped his paws together, more anxious than an amateur surgeon.

"I hope they're getting paid well enough to justify that kind of stress," I said as the weasel began gnawing at his own hat.

"I Don't think any of us are," said a new voice. He approached our press corp, extending a wing. "Harvey Haley," he said with a smile crossing his razor-sharp beak. "Good to meet you."

"Oh my god," Jin Li said, taking the wing in two trembling paws. "It's so amazing to finally meet you in person."

"Please pardon his fangirling," JoAnn said.

"Are you kidding me, Jo?" Harvey said with a laugh. "I wish I'd received half that kinda adoration from my folks."

"Oh, wow!" Jin said as Harvey shook his paw.

"Y'see," Harvey said as they parted, "When you become a famous journalist for exposing that sinking presidential scandal or whatever, you should remember how to treat your fans. I Don't believe we've met either," he said, turning to me with a much milder wingshake.

I took it. "Nice to meet you, Mr Haley. You've got a great talent for gauging your fans' warmth. I'm sorry to say that I haven't seen much of your work, so you'd be able to tell that any of my orgiastic squealing would be strictly thespian."

Harvey laughed, a great bellow that went over the tension in his chefs like a shockwave of panic. "This mouth must be your new editorial intern, Jo."

"Yeah, he's the twerp that Carl stuffed us with. He enjoyed his essay about the depersonalizing effect of mass media."

"It's like finding out everyone's slept with the first person I did in college," I said.

"Now, now," Chris said, tickling my butt and causing me to yelp.

"And it looks like they're having you do pictures," Harvey said to Chris, shaking his paw. "Listen, if you can get this disaster looking halfway presentable at the wrong side of fifty, I'll personally award you one of my Michelin stars."

"I Don't think it works that way," Chris said, "But we could first do an, um..."

His train of thought derailed as Harvey undid his chef's jacket, revealing a bare chest that, even behind the feathers, held up well for the 'wrong side' of fifty.

"For Christ's sake!" JoAnn scowled, while my male cohorts and I stood with raised eyebrows, and possibly other things.

"Sorry dear, direct orders from corporate. Say it's more dramatic this way, what with me revealing my vulnerabilities or whatever, laying it all bare."

"You're such a bad liar."

"It isn't my fault that your latest demographic survey revealed a nearly 80% female viewership."

Jin Li said, "Maybe we should do full frontal? You know, for science."

"I must say," I said, "It's nice to have some pressure taken off."

Chris raised the Nikon. "We'd have to get a different lighting rig for that. Something softer, maybe. Mind if I shoot a few samples?"

"Not at all," Harvey said. "Let's just hope I Don't make a total ass of myself."

"We sure wouldn't want that," JoAnn said as she sat down on the bench, digging out her laptop, while calling Chris fluffed Harvey and dug out some of his portable lighting rig, posing him against the backdrop of a white muslin screen.

"Can we do the windswept thing?" Chris asked as I grabbed my own tablet and hooked up the foldable keypad, leaning against the wall with one footpaw on the wall, unsure what JoAnn expected me to do. I thought about asking her before remembering the golden opportunity in front of me to get lost through the cracks of a non-caring trainer. Not to mention the great scenery.

She pulled out her mobile phone. "I'll keep an audio record for further analysis and verification.

"Sure," he said as she hit record, setting it aside to tap open her word processor.

"Mr Haley, we want to get your word on the record regarding the failure of your last restaurant uptown, and the subsequent joint lawsuit from 300 of your former employees, claiming that you failed to pay them wages for two months before the restaurant's closure. What's your response to those who claim you've swindled your workers and are relying on your own celebrity protections and media lawyers to keep the 'peasants' at bay?"

Don's confident, predatory eyes widened as his lower beak hung open, the deadly weapon becoming a pathetic appendage. He shook his head and tried to regain the earlier ground. "As you know, I have extremely positive reviews from customers, shareholders, and employees who have praised my competitive wages, exceptional working conditions, and care for work/life balance. The minority making a complaint were specific seasonal workers who failed to uphold their contractual duties, mostly relating to upkeep and maintenance on the restaurant itself, not the line cooks and waitstaff. The lawsuit in question is not nearly so glamorous as the media likes to portray it, and we expect to settle soon."

"I expected as much, but given the failure of Uptown, considered one of the biggest restaurant busts in the state, what makes you confident that the Predator's Inn won't replicate the same mistakes?"

Harvey began leaning forward again. "Part of any business involves coping with and preparing for the possibility of failure, even for an established brand. There were difficulties we were not adequately prepared to face at the time, and we're going to take those lessons going forward."

JoAnn bared her teeth: "I'm sure it has nothing to do with the public's disgust at being served by a carrion feeder."

"Stop that! You can't say that!"

We turned over to the source of the squeal. The weasel wormed over to us, his lanky body swaying in disheveled insomnia as he held his hat like a play shield.

"Jesus Christ," JoAnn growled as she shut off her phone.

"I've been working with Mr Haley since before Uptown, and he's always been nothing short of exceptional!"

"I'm sorry," JoAnn said, "I must have booked the sycophantic interview at the same time."

"No, that's quite alright," Harvey said. "My friend Wes here is a sensitive soul and doesn't like confrontation." Harvey gave Wes a reassuring pat on the hand. "This is just the media. It's their _job_to be assholes. Take it with a grain of salt; nobody's mad at each other here."

"Salt. Right," Wes said, looking dazed, fighting a lump in his throat and the glazed over exhaustion threatening to overtake him.

Jin Li stood up. "Hey, wait a minute. Are you sure he's so exceptional? It's like he's got your poor soul worked to the core. You look like you're about to explode."

JoAnn slammed her head back into the wall. "It's like every time I try to get anything done, I get smacked in the face by a clown with a giant paddle with the word 'DRAMA' emblazoned on it in spikes," she muttered.

"It's not like that," Wes said. "I work long hours because he lets me. You know how restrictive overtime law is in this state."

"Wes, honey, it sounds even worse when you put it that way," Harvey said.

Wes put the hat back on. "Oh. I didn't mean-"

"It's alright, just maybe wait over there while we're working? Maybe help out Rhonda with some of the prep work."

"Sure. I'll get on that. Sorry. Everyone," the weasel said, bowing away.

Chris scoffed. "Adoring fan?"

"No, he's got a wife and kit."

"That's not what I-"

"Paranoid about economic downturns, bit of a goldbug, not always the best with, erm, hygienic concerns. But a sweet person."

"Bite my biscuit," JoAnn said. "Could we puh-leeze do our jobs now?"

"Why start now?" Jin Li said.

"Matter of fact - I've got a question," I said. "If the group doesn't mind?"

JoAnn turned to me, daring me to ask something without adhering to serious journalistic integrity. I nodded to her, asking to turn the recorder on. She picked up the phone and hit it, just about impaling the screen with her claw.

"I just wanted to know - what got you into this life path in the first place? How did you know that being a food guy, a restauranteur - I know that a lot of younger people look up to you, or at least find you entertaining, but maybe they haven't discovered their own niche, you know? Maybe, if you could, relate to us the moment where you knew you were going the right way?"

JoAnn's anger didn't subside. "Oh, wonderful, there's a softball question if I've ever heard in my-"

"Hey, what the crap is your problem, anyway?" Chris growled, claw marks emerging on his camera. "Tough questions are one thing, but you've been an absolute witch ever since we got here. I'd kinda like to know myself how Mr Haley got started."

"Yes! It must be a real tragedy that mummy and daddy didn't stick you straight into some nepotistic black hole where you could rot away without even the self-awareness to ponder your own lack of contribution to society."

"You're still recording," Jin Li said.

Harvey sighed, raising his wings up. "Listen, guys, it's just old demons coming to the forefront. Back when before we ended up in the States."

"You two have a history?" I asked.

"Sounds like Wes had a point," Chris said.

"I was hoping to avoid this guy," JoAnn said, "But what does he do? Follow over for the media sponsorships and the line of cookware and the studio kitchen and brown-nosing from everyone convinced of his own greatness."

"I never claimed to be great," Harvey said. "I just wanted to share some of the tips I learned from my early days on the line and how I was able to-"

"Stop reverting to the talking points!" JoAnn barked.

"Isn't this still part of the interview?"

"Whatever. Go ahead, Intern," she said, sliding the phone to me.

"Well," Harvey said, "to answer at least one point of yours, Derek; there wasn't really a specific moment where it clicked for me. I ended up in a kitchen back when I was 14 because nobody else would hire an arrogant punk who knew his way with a knife, and I just never left. I started working longer, filling a personal void, experimenting around after hours against my boss's wishes with the restaurant's supplies. I passed stuff onto customers without their input, and stuck around their tables to see their reactions. I'd ask them how their meal was, or observe their behavior, and I did get smiles and compliments, which inflated me like a hot air balloon - only I was full of hot air, so I didn't let it show when I got a less positive review. That would devastate me. I'd take it personally, obsessing over the stove to find out what went right while damning myself with hatred at my craft for even pretending that I had some semblance of knowledge for what I was doing. That hatred carries itself over every one of the career hurdles - to head chef, breaking out and opening my own place, going to culinary school in Vermont to learn the real techniques, working at the real fancy places, interning at the television networks and rising to my own place, recording the shows, doing the podcasts, slapping my name everywhere when it got some degree of notoriety. I Don't think many of us ever lose that critical voice, the sense of being an imposter, the desperation of what-ifs and never-were."

I stopped typing. Harvey grabbed onto his shoulders, eyes planted to the side.

"It was just an accident of circumstance, and you rolled with it. Because you were well-equipped with the smarts to succeed."

"It wasn't smarts, mainly luck and stubbornness. Some people just never get enough of the former to make a difference." He ruffled a feathery wing in my direction. "Right now, you may feel lost as an intern, dealing with the in-built biases of your colleagues and wondering where you fit in. Thing is, you might not be able to fit in. But it's not your fault. All that stuff is circumstantial. Everyone is putting on a mask and playing a role, trying to convince everyone that their highlight reels are the only aspect going on. It's never about the ugliness, the failures, the stabs to the back." Harvey turned to JoAnn. "Whatever grudge you still may hold, I appreciate that you at least had the integrity to confront me, and you deserve to derive the pleasure of putting me on the spot."

We sat there, looking at one another.

"You lying bastard," JoAnn said, clamping on her mic. "You think people will forget what happened."

"Hey listen," Harvey said, coughing, "Since we're indulging in nepotism and corruption, I've reserved you guys a table near the kitchen with full comp. Anything you'd like off the menu, within reason. And no booze. Don't feel like mortgaging my house for your wine orders."

"Oh," I said. "Sure. I promised my roomies I'd grab a late meal with them, but I'll be happy to get, I dunno, a sampler platter or something."

"Relax, chump," Jin Li said, "We're not a literary critic or a health inspector. I have no doubts you and your crew know what you're doing."

"Fantastic," he said, punching back through his robe. "You'll all get to be part of the experience, then."

After we finished the rest of the shoot and interview - going off into boilerplate responses, despite the burning fury under JoAnn's snout - Harvey guided us to our table out in the main dining hall.

"Everyone!" Harvey said, dramatically placing the back of his palm to his forehead and leaning back. "Salutations and welcome to my gorgeous new restaurant, and my long-awaited return from exile. My team and I have made intensive preparations and spared no expense to make your first night here truly memorable. Now, if you'll all please take your seats, our waitstaff will be with you shortly. Thank you, and enjoy your stay at the Predator's Inn."

He clapped his wings and disappeared back into the kitchen. JoAnn rolled her eyes and picked up a menu. I saw a whole continent of cuisines I didn't recognize, at prices I couldn't comprehend. Specifically, I gagged at the base price, which didn't include gratuity, truffles, wine, or a happy ending.

"What is he even trying to do here?" Chris said, skimming the menu. "This is a total cluster. No... it's a mind-rending disaster."

"It's the last one all over again," JoAnn said.

"So much for the sampler platter," I said.

Jin Li chuckled. "It's not really a thing here."

"I knew it would be upscale, I just wasn't prepared for the extraterrestrial influences. Is this one of those tiny plate deals, too? Why does food give diminishing returns the more it costs?"

Chris nudged me. "Now I know where not to take you on a date."

"Be quiet," I said. "Man, I was gonna ask if anybody had a recommendation out of here. But your reactions aren't too encouraging."

"It's not that anything's bad," Jin said. "But judging from the sheer loss crossing your face, you're just as well closing your eyes and throwing a dart at the menu.

JoAnn said, "The problem is, Harvey hasn't matured at all the past thirty years. Sure, he's got the money and the upscale decorations, but this menu was still prepared by somebody with the emotional restraint of an undisciplined cub. Look to any of the tables around us. They're_all_ scowling. Nobody should be this confused by the lack of direction. He's trying to be hoity French, rob-sticking American, exotic East Asian, but none of its integrated well. Fusion cuisine is wonderful, but the ingredients are in combat, not cooperation."

Our waiter then came to us, a gray goat with a midriff bared from his undersized cummerbund.

"Welcome to the Inn," he said. "My name is Ollie, and I'll be at your service tonight."

Chris pushed the air. "Oh, no need to be so formal, kiddo. We're just a rag-tag bunch of poor journalists who Don't even know what we're doing here."

The goat's shoulders relaxed. "Me either, man. I'm glad Mister Haley gave me a job here - he didn't seem to have a super rigid process."

"Is there like, a salad, or something that isn't too filling?"

Ollie leaned on our table. "Have ya seen the dish sizes here? Don't expect to get filled unless you're a feral mouse."

"Are those still a thing?" Jin Li asked.

The goat smiled. "Sure, but cockroaches are way more common."

"Yeah," JoAnn said. "Wouldn't want any of those in-"

"Omigod!" came the piercing shriek. A mouse in heels stumbled up onto her table as a veritable swarm of hissing cockroaches flooded out from under their table, coating the immaculate tiles in a swimming hive of loud, angry clattering. We all drew our legs up, except for JoAnn and Ollie, who grinned and gave fist bumps to one another.

"Jo," Chris said, trying not to let his voice squeak too high, "What have you done?"

"What, lil old me?" she said with a smug grin.

Ollie said, "They're very nice creatures," as dishes flew from people trying to kill them. Somebody screamed and slipping on the ground, the roaches scurrying over them.

"Oh, it's going to be so fun being the first publication to have this verified! Chris, get your camera back out already."

"You..." Chris said, trembling.

"Don't worry, I'm the fall guy," Ollie said.

"Enjoy my holiday bonus, Ollie," JoAnn said, raising a glass with antennae twitching out of it. "You've earned it."

My strong facade was cracking as I held back bile. I got up and tried to avoid stepping on the roaches as I went over to the front entrance and pressed the doors open.

A few other panicked souls crowded around me, jostling one another in a rush to get to their cars. Gene the Bulldog stood a few yards away, scratching his head in incredulity.

"You should head home," I said to him. "Whole place is crawling."

I made it to Maxine and leaned against her, wondering when the others would come after me. My phone buzzed; I pulled it out and saw Gina's face next to the little preview message:

<Love you, little bro.>

Despite the screaming that still permeated the night air, a smile crossed my lips and I texted her back:

<Love you too. Sorry about everything.>

I thought about calling her when I saw the poodle from earlier run screaming past me, crawling with cockroaches all over her, plucking off like she'd just run through a plague.

When my coworkers began limping towards me. Chris was drowsy-eyed and drained, but Jin had soaked up some of JoAnn's pervasive energy.

"Come on," she said. "You know I'm right."

"The weird thing is, you might be," I said. "Come on. Let's just get out of here."

"I'll drop you guys off at your cars," Chris said. "I'm beat."

"Sure," I said as we piled in. "Everyone have their stuff?"

The Mini chirped to life as we headed back to the highway. I rested my head on the side window, watching the speckle of red lights in front of us, my flattened ear catching the roar of the wind through us. Nobody in the car had much to say; Even JoAnn's exuberance was beginning to fade somewhat.

We pulled off at the exit to Eat Good headquarters. Chris drove to the parking lot and let Jin and JoAnn out. She tried to say goodnight, but we all just gave half-hearted waves.

"My new place is pretty close," I said.

"Nonsense," Chris said as the others walked away. "I'm not leaving you out in the cold. Besides, it'll be easier to talk now."

He pulled back out, and headed to the main street. "About the incident?" I asked. "Look, I'd rather not."

"Same here," he said. "I'm more interested in you."

"Why me? Why any of this? Shouldn't you be sipping trust fund margaritas instead of throwing tablets and wading through insects?"

"Oh, that," he said, biting his lip. "Look, man, maybe some people can coast on their reputations or their old money, but I'd rather at least do something, even if it's degrading and pointless."

"You had no other option, did ya?"

"Ever go careening into your last-ditch effort?"

"I've lost count of how many times I've done so."

After a minute, he pulled off and we found ourselves in the skuzzy glow of Magic Palms' burnt-out neon signage. He put Maxine in park in the dim visitors' spot on the side street. It was just bright enough to see one another.

"Thanks for the ride, bro," I said, grabbing my bag and pretending to look for a few more assorted widgets.

"No prob. I had fun. Got everything you need?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, sure. Wait a minute," I said, looking at him. "You did?"

He shrugged. "It wasn't perfect, but that's just due to external factors. Overall I'm glad today happened."

"Jesus. You've got low standards," I said, putting the bag in my lap.

"And you take things too seriously."

"I'll remember that when you're chucking a tablet at my face."

"It'd bounce right off that rubbery face of yours."

"Hah, joke's on you," I said. "You have no idea how flexible my face can be."

"That so?" he said.

I leaned forward and hugged him. It was, of course, all just my virile twenty-something hormones overpowering me, but I didn't care. He seemed a little surprised, but returned the gesture.

When we parted, I leaned to leave the car and he handed me my stuff. I got out and waved goodbye. I climbed up to my - Clark's - apartment and watched Maxine's headlights pop back on. Chris put it in reverse and steered back, punching forward and heading out. I watched him go as far as I could, pulled out my spare key and went inside.

7:01pm

"Hey Derek!" Clark said from behind the kitchen. "I just texted to let you know we'd be a smidge late with dinner."

"Not a problem!" I shouted. "Don't touch me yet - I'm filthy."

"From work?"

"Yeah, totally. I need to shower, like pronto."

"Alright, bud. Feel free to check out your room when you're out - had it cleared and your stuff brought in - Brian comped the moving expenses."

"Sweet guy," I said, dropping off the backpack and heading to the bathroom, stripping off my clothes and dumping them right in the washer. Still feeling sticky, I flipped the lights and turned the knobs, stepping into the tub and letting the warm water drench it out of me. I stood there, just letting it wash over for a minute. I saw that he'd also taken the liberty of putting my shampoo and conditioner there - formulated to keep my pelt nice and gray.

After my shower, I walked out in a cloud of mist and stood there, wrapped in a towel when our doorbell rang.

"Could you get that, bro?" he said. "Just doing a bit of a transfer here."

I looked down at my naked, poofed up body. "Sure, Clark," I said. I walked over and looked through the peephole.

"A buck and a bat?" I asked, watching the two of them stand around.

"That's them!"

I opened it up and stood to greet them.

"Howdy," the buck said with a wave. "I'm Brian Phillips, property manager at this ol' dump. You must be Derek, our new inhabitant."

He extended his paw. "Sure am," I said, shaking it while holding my towel to make sure it didn't drop. If Brian had antlers, they'd been filed down to nubs, sitting atop his small, distant face.

I then turned to the bat. "Are you Judd?"

His face broke into a huge smile, clasping his wingtip fingers together. "It's so great to finally meet you!" he roared. I extended my hand, which he promptly ignored by enveloping me into a great leathery hug. My hindpaws lifted off the ground as he squeezed me, and I hoped I didn't have another erection hiding behind the towel's flimsy cover, though I felt pretty sure he did.

"Well that sure didn't take long," Brian said.

"Hey guys!" Clark shouted from the kitchen. "Get your butts over here."

I gestured them in and locked the door behind them. "I just gotta towel the rest o' me off and get into something suitable, a'ight?"

"Oh, such formality," Judd said with a wink. "You just make yourself however you're most comfortable, alright?"

"I'm flattered. You're at least the second dude today who's wanted to see me naked."

"Don't take too long now," Judd said. I bolted over to my bedroom and creaked the door just shut behind me.

I hung the towel up on a rack and stood there naked for a moment while my heart rate normalized. I wasn't fully erect, just a bit chubby - certainly not where I was with Chris a few minutes ago. Jeez, dude, I thought, should I just masturbate more frequently? This is a little bit desperate.

Since the night was still a bit warm I dug through the duffel bag Clark brought in, slipped on undies, tan shorts, and a t-shirt with an old cartoon I still enjoyed. The room was still a smidge chaotic, but compared to the disaster from that morning, it was downright homey. I'd get to fixing the place up sometime tomorrow - at least the bed was in place.

Wonder when we'll get to test that one out?

I smiled, then grimaced. Obviously Clark wouldn't have a problem with it, but the idea of bringing someone and having sex with them in his spare bedroom still felt a little impersonal.

The carpet laid nice and warm between my toe pads as I went out toward the kitchen. Brian and Judd were chatting, laughing between sips from wine glasses. Clark scurried around the kitchen, finishing up the dish, leaving plumes as the wok on the burner did its work.

"There he is," Judd said, raising a wing. "Dude, I friggin' love that show. It's still streaming, right?"

I remembered my shirt. "Maybe. I always had a bad connection at home so I would often just save up for the DVDs."

"Maybe we could... I mean, if you want to," Judd said.

"Whoa, slow down there, bat," Brian drawled. "Give the guy some breathin' room. Sounds like he's had a go of it, and maybe he ain't ready yet."

"What's this I heard about him being the second guy?" Clark hollered from behind the counter, apron flying about.

"Oh, don't you worry about that," I said. "It's nothing. Probably."

"Uh-huh," he said, raising an eyeridge. "I'm totally not gonna go down that road at all. No way, not a chance."

"Oh gawd," Judd said, "Is this the part where you shoot me down? Already?"

"Pro tip, Judd?" Brian said. "Nobody finds desperation cute."

"I'm not desperate!" he shouted, balking backward. "I am exceedingly well adjusted; I simply prefer not to waste effort on unwanted foreplay when a simple yes/no will suffice."

"You've been spending too long at that job," Brian said.

"Oh, shut up. You get your rent money well in advance thanks to the tips I make with this personality."

"Not complaining, just advising," Brian said.

"Alright, Brian, don't try and distract us from Derek's new work crush," Clark said.

"Good lord," I said, "If we're going to be speculating on my personal life with a bunch of people I just met then I'm gonna need some food in my gullet first! I'll have you know that I turned down a fancy restaurant meal just so I could be with you people today and enjoy your cooking."

"You know," Brian said, "In that case, you shoulda taken the free meal there from there instead of-"

"Brian, shut up," Clark said. "I didn't say you could now be a dick to Derek. I wanted everyone here tonight so you could try my new dish." He spooned the contents from a wok to a bowl and placed it in front of me.

"Oh my god," I said, stomach and eyes bulging, "You made Laziji." The chicken and chili dish was like a Christmas orgasm, and tasted as such.

Clark beamed, then gave everyone else their portion. The four of us sat at the small circular table shoved out near the kitchen, improvised and chaotic but otherwise comfortable.

"As I was saying, probably not the first tasty thing you've had today, hmm? Even without the restaurant?"

I glared at Clark. "You know, it's a good thing that I didn't eat there. One of the assholes I work with had the great idea of conspiring to let loose about three or four quintillion cockroaches all over the restaurant."

Clark's jaw clenched in a grimace, staring at me with food dropping from his chopsticks, while Brian burst into laughter, slapping the table and snorting something fierce. Judd giggled in a more reserved, self-conscious amusement.

"That's..." Clark muttered.

"You'll read all about it tomorrow. Not just in our stupid magazine exposé, but in every local paper. I can see the headlines now: Predator's Inn Inundated with Vermin." I took a mouthful of the laziji, trying to savor it as slow as possible. "Anyway. Enough about that nightmare. Why don't I get to know you two better?"

"Not a whole barn's worth to say," Brian chewed. "I've been buying up slummy properties like this and keeping 'em afloat. I find it helps to actually be involved in the day-to-days, like I actually care about my clientele."

"Of course," Judd said. "Why else would you still be playing savior to Brick the Prick after all this time?"

"Did you tell 'em what happened?" I asked Clark.

"He sure did," Brian said. "And to be fair - I Don't think I have a case."

"Pardon me?" I said.

"Well, look, he never touched you, and Clark was technically the one committing assault, albeit defensively. Now Don't worry, we're not gonna make a big deal of it, but that's partially because it'd be too hard to defend your own behinds. Trust me, I've been involved in these kinda wars before, and it never ends well. Just Don't pay him any mind, Derek. Travel with a buddy, and if he makes direct threats we'll take care of it then."

"How about you, Judd? How'd a pretty thing like you end here? No offense, Brian."

"None taken."

"Well," Judd said. "I guess for some context, this is my breakfast," he said, waving over his dish. "You know the Mercurial, over in downtown?"

"The gay bar?"

"The very same," Judd said. "That's my employer. That's where I go to give strangers lap dances so they can shove dollar bills into skimpy thongs and other such accessories. And the occasional orifice."

"Hope they tip well."

Judd smirked. "Yeah, though I'm thinking of 'day-classing' at a bartending school. I know a few folks there at the Mercurial who say they'd be willing to sponsor me. It's not outlandishly expensive but it helps if you've got a positive work from somebody in the industry."

Clark laughed gently. "You know, it's kinda cute, what we all have here. Derek, I know you haven't been here long - at all, really, but it feels like I've known you for a lifetime. You remind me a lot of the friends I used to have in college. Like this klutz here," he said, nodding to the buck.

"Darn right," Brian said.

"Did you guys go to college together?" I asked.

Brian nodded. "We came in together and dropped out at roughly the same time. Then circumstances got nasty, life got in the way, we started drifting slowly further and further apart, both personally and physically. Oh, sure, we reconnected on social media and all that. But it wasn't that long ago that I found this big guy soaked to the bone on a rainy night like a god-durned orphan at my doorstep, last resort, asking if I had some closet he could stay in while he rehabilitated his life and got things together."

Clark smiled a bit, a red blush coming over his cheeks. "Yeah, I remember that. Jumping between my millionth and first mechanic jobs. Not so stable when you're, well, not the most stable of dudes."

"And then our boy Judd here," he said, giving the bat a friendly slap on the bat, "came in with us, afterward. We started talking about how much we hated Rick, and in a way that stupid swine brought us all together."

"Kinda like you, Derek," Clark said.

I huffed in an attempted laugh, picking at my food with the fork. "Yeah. Guess I should thank him, in a way."

Clark said, "Everything okay, dude?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing," I said.

Judd took a bite. "I assume he told you what happened."

The table ground to a halt again, with everyone looking at everything except one another.

"You didn't, did you?" Brian asked. "Oh, will you spit it out?"

"I told you, my job's not going to be a problem," Clark said.

"Wait, your job?" I asked.

"It's just speculation at this point," Clark said, glaring at Brian, then turning to me. "Business is getting a little dry - ha-ha, irony - and my boss has floated the idea of letting some people go, and well, we're just considering worst-case scenarios here. Even if it did go that way, I'm sure it'd be temporary."

"...What would?" I said.

"You know they Don't just have these talks in a vacuum," Brian said. "You need to prepare for the possibility of getting canned, then leaving Magic Palms to go live with mom and dad - again - over it. Then what's going to happen to Derek?"

"We talked about this," Judd said, raising a wing. "I said I could take over this space, since I could use the additional square footage. That way, even if Clark does have to leave, Derek could stay right in that spot and live with me. If it's okay with him!" he said, turning to me. "I know I'm not really able to punch boars or anything, but I'm sure I'm a suitable roommate. And you seem nice, too. I like that you were able to open up to us, Derek."

"But then-"

"Look, my parents Don't live far."

"Ain't they plannin' on retirin' yet? They wanna go to the other coast, where their winter residence is, on a permanent basis."

"It's not going to come to that!"

"Do your folks know that?"

"Guys," I said, my voice weakened, "You Don't have to become my steward or anything. I'll adapt and survive, just as always."

"I just Don't want you to feel alone anymore," Clark said, getting on a knee next to me. "I know we just met, but sometimes strangers we meet as adults - that's a blessing when it works out, and I count myself among that. None of us have the best relations back home or the most stable of backgrounds, so when we do find someone? I Don't want to squander it."

"And yet here you are," Brian said, crossing his arms. "For now."

Judd said, "It's worked out for us, so far. Magic Palms has a way of doing that," he said with a faint smile. "You should put that on the billboards, Brian. 'Come here if you just want a friend. Or maybe something more'."

Brian sighed. "Look, Derek, I'm rightfully sorry about the chaos of the matter at hand. Just wish my friend here wasn't always so eager to play psychotherapist at the expense of objective, tangible problems."

"That's what makes him a sweet person," I said.

"It Don't pay the rent, unfortunately," Brian said.

Clark nodded. "I know. I'm sorry. We'll make this work out though, I promise. Nobody's getting thrown into a Siberian Exile or anything."

Judd said, "That sounds like a good reason for all of us to stay together for as long as we can. Hey, why Don't we all go to the Mercurial tonight? You guys can watch me perform. It's for everybody, so even our token heteros here can find something to enjoy. And lots of candy for Derek over here," he said. "What do you say?"

"Huh," Brian said. "I guess there's no business after 8pm here."

Clark smiled. "Nothing a little caffeine can't fix."

"What do you say, Derek?" Judd asked.

I nodded. "Yeah, dude, that sounds cool. Pump me full of Irish coffees and I'll be good to go."

"Fantastic," Clark said. "We can take the Honda - I'll be DD."

"Sure you'll get enough sleep before your shift?" Brian said.

"Yes. And I want to spend some time with you people for once. If you could help clear the plates, Brian, since you're so up on your worth ethic, we can get this done rapid."

"As you wish, your majesty," he grunted, getting up.

Judd clapped his wings. "I'm excited. You'll love the Mercurial, Derek."

"I'm looking forward to it," I said, smiling back at him. We got up and helped clean the rest of the dishes, turning off all the appliances, then locked up on our way to the shared parking garage. Clark hoisted up his key fob and clicked for an aging three-door Honda wagon.

"I'll take back," Judd said. Clark pushed the old cloth seat forward so he could tuck his body in.

"I'll join you, then," I said. Brian helped tilt my own side forward, then we all piled in and shut the doors.

Clark started up the engine, pulling out an old MP3 player in a weathered green leather pouch. "Find something we can like, willya Brian?"

"Sure," he said, dialing in an Irish punk song that I enjoyed.

"Great band!" I said over the screaming guitars and Oi! gang chorus.

"I had a feeling!" Clark said, dialing it down just a bit. "See? We knew each other from past lives, this is just a long overdue reunion."

I thought I heard Brian mumble, "Then please let me not spoil it," but either the music was too loud or I was hallucinating, because nobody replied.

I barely noticed the car's clock ticking over to midnight.

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

12:01am

"Here we are," Judd said, pointing to the trashy neon "Mercurial" sign, complete with its vowels busted.

We pulled into another darkened back parking lot, jumped out of the car and made it to the bouncer's roped off section, a markhor with a rough hide and comically oversize, spiraling horns.

"IDs, please," he grunted to us.

"I'm gonna take the employee's entrance, alright? Meet you guys there," Judd said, leaving the three of us to be shuffled in with the rest of the crowd.

"So, how often does Judd coerce you guys into coming here?" I asked.

Brian and Clark shared a smirk, then told me to wait right there, grab a drink, and keep an eye on the floor.

"Alright," I told them, waving them off and heading for the bar.

"Hello! Welcome to Mercurial. Always nice to greet a new face around here," the bartender said.

"Hey, thanks," I said. "My name's Derek."

"My name's Austin," he said, extending a paw.

I shook it. "Great to meet you. Hope my deduction isn't inappropriate, but judging from your accent and the fact you're the first tuatara I've seen in person, are you originally from New Zealand?"

The reptile beamed. "Wellington, the very same!"

"How'd a cute guy like you end up all the way out here?"

Austin blushed, which I found adorable under the scales. "I'm taking a year's sabbatical to see if there's a school I like in the states. So far, I'm impressed, but I do miss home."

"Could I please have an Irish coffee? Red-eye, if you can?"

"Coming right up!" he smiled. "I Don't get that one too often. You pulling an all-nighter or something?"

"Well, I have work in the morning, but I did just get off my shift, so I gotta cram in my R&R somewhere, you know?"

I slapped a ten on the table and took a gentle swig, trying to make it last.

"Oh, look!" he said, pointing to the floor. "It's those two clowns, the orca whale and the fallow buck!"

I whipped my head around and saw that the cacophony had silenced a bit and the space had cleared. A voice drowned out the club music on the PA and started booming out:

"Ladies and gents, we have a surprise visit from two of our favorite patrons. Will you please give it up for our quasi-official mascots: Brian and Clark!"

The small but enthusiastic worknight crowd did surround the vacated floor with a thunderous applause and hooting. I stuck two fingers in and whistled, toasting them with my drink as they stood in the center facing one another.

Clark nodded at the deejay to hit it, and he started on with a track beginning with flamenco guitars and the faint voices of a female choir. He and Brian circled each other, like Spanish gentlemen, replete with prop roses in their mouths. I could barely conceal my giggling as I felt the tempo rise, and the instruments come to a crescendo as the classical guitar's riffs reached a frantic pitch-

And then the bass dropped like a brick basket, and the howling robot-sex of the vintage dubstep track bled out from the speakers like a violent mechanical heartbeat, and our dancers at center stage gave a sexually hypercharged routine to the beats, grinding up against one another like the greatest of good sports, between elaborate and angelic sidesteps, synchronized in perfect harmony.

They carried it on for two minutes, and when the final roaring sample played, they stood in a triumphant pose, Clark pointing to the sky like an 80s pop star and Brian laying on his side, grabbing his knee and giving the whole club his bedside eyes.

The club roared into an ecstatic approval, cheering for their heroes. They straightened themselves, took their bows, and left the floor like champions at a football game who'd just stomped a heavily favored visiting rival.

"Holy crap, you two," I said, setting down my now-empty glass on the barside. I turned to Austin. "Can you believe these nuts?"

"You're friends with 'em? No way," Austin said. "They're like - mythical creatures. I thought they just disappeared into their own ashes between their surprise appearances."

"I love how your compliments are inversely proportional to their accuracy," Clark said.

"Are you sure y'all didn't set up this meeting?" I asked them.

"Nah man, it's as organic as anything else," Brian said.

"There you guys are," said Judd, approaching us now in his work uniform. I soaked in the vision; he'd gone from his casual street clothes to a red thong, a black bowtie, and not much else, leaving nothing to the imagination. "Quit tryin' ta steal my business, won't you?" he said with his tongue in his cheek.

"I dunno dude, might wanna be careful. Have you seen Clark's dick?"

"Yes." Judd deadpanned. I snorted so hard I regurgitated some of my Irish coffee, thought the better of it, and ordered another.

"Don't worry though," Clark said, "You're still king of the lap dances."

"And Don't you dare forget it!" he said, sticking his fists on his hips like a superhero. "Speaking of which, first one's complimentary, if the lovely gentleman is so interested," he said, eying me.

"Why the hell not?" I said as Austin clanked down another coffee in front of me. "Bring it on, stud."

He came over and did his thing while I nursed my drink - another first for me. I couldn't find it as overtly hot as Chris almost doing me in the back of his car, but the guy knew what he was doing, far as I could tell.

"Consider it your encouragement to head out on that floor and meet somebody nice," Brian said.

"That's right," Clark added. "The Mercurial's quite inclusive to that sorta thing. Which is why, gentlemen, if you Don't mind, I'm going to go attempt to authenticate the veracity of the signals I've been getting from a certain cetacean female over yonder," he said, nodding his head to the object of his lust.

"Go for it, man," I said. "I know at least one person I wanna ask," I said, turning to Austin. "What do ya say? They're not so anal that they won't let you dance with a paying customer. You know, if you want to. It's an invitation. From me. Um, would you like-"

Austin leapt over the counter and turned to me with his hand extended.

"Show me what you got."

I took the tuatara's hand and let him lead me out on the floor. I didn't have the faintest idea what I was doing, and my psychomotor issues left me convinced that whatever 'moves' I had would just get me laughed at.

By then, however, I was too many drinks deep past the minimal inhibitions I had toward making a fool of myself, so I jumped on the floor with the aplomb of any other nutcase in full pretend competence mode.

I let Austin do the bulk of the leading, and from what I could tell despite his confidence, he was only marginally less spastic than me, managing to trip over his own feet at least once during the considerably more mellow drum n' bass track being dug on by the slowly-refilling floor. Not that I could have minded in the slightest if I'd wanted to - Austin even had the guts to dip me, so as he held me back, I lifted a foot and looked up at the ant-march of the disco lights ahead, frozen in the moment like the crest of a whale before he pulled me back and resumed lead on the electric waltz for the duration of the track.

As the track ended, our feigned grace devolved into an awkward attempt to hold one another up, and even my light clothing became soaked with sweat.

"Man, you guys have a towel I could borrow?"

"Sure, dude," he told me. "Let's just get you perched back in your seat."

As I sat back down and got the swirling of my head back into composure, I started wondering if I was as much of a lightweight as I feared, so I asked Austin for an ice water before I passed out.

"No problem, mate," he said, sliding it over to me. I took a sip as Clark and Brian returned to our location, the latter with somebody draped over his arm. We exchanged greetings - Irene, an African wild dog with chocolate peanut butter coloring in a tasteful, minimalist blue onesie, from what I could remember, shaking her hand, something about coming here to relax, how kind the guys were here.

As I gathered up my stamina for another go-round on the floor, I began patrolling for other dude candidates. I thought the alcohol might have started badly impacting my judgment at that point, but full-bore hallucinations seemed more out of the picture.

Full. Boar.

My mind must have been playing tricks, because on the other side of the bar I swore I saw a boar wearing Judd's outfit.

"Holy hell," I said, pointing with a wobbly finger towards it. "That's totally Brick the Prick."

"Are you high?" Clark asked before turning, and I saw his jaw fall.

"No. It can't be."

"You mean I'm not crazy?"

"I dunno about that," Brian said, "But that is definitely him."

"What the... is this some bizarre new form of affirmative action? Hey Judd. Judd! Get your ass over here."

"What's going on guys... oh, my god," he said as I pointed. "Oh, no. Guys, I swear I had no idea... he must have gotten hired today, but I Don't know why. Either that or he stole the outfit."

"From who, an entire herd of elephants?" I said.

"Who's Brick the Prick?" Austin said.

"Ugh, Brick Mayfield. I know that douchebag," Irene said. "He's an administrator at the school my pup goes to. He's always been a real thorn in our sides, never does anything but sit around stealing all the bagels. I'm not sure who he bribed to get past tenure but it looks as though he's raising money for more."

"Probably ran out of allowance for hookers," Judd said.

"Class act," Irene said. "You guys wanna have some fun with him?"

"Oh, let's not cause a scene," I said.

"Screw that. My sister works at the same district, and I know she's gotten a feel copped in the lounge. The least I can do is get this POS fired from here, since the schools Don't have the guts to do it. Holy my purse, darling?" she said to Brian, setting it aside and riling up her feminine charms.

"That guy just ruined my date," Brian said.

"So go join her and have some fun," I told him. "Come on, you know that's what she wants."

He nodded, chasing after her with the purse on his shoulder. Meanwhile, I continued my search for someone who looked available, and I did come across one red panda, staring at his shoes and fighting the urge to pull out his phone to check for some nonexistent texts.

"Alright, wish me luck," I told the remaining group as I got up and stumbled my way towards him.

The red panda feigned distraction as I wandered up to him with a half-masted wave, reaching for decorum like sticking my paw in a vat of molasses.

"Hey there," I said. "I've had a little too much to drink, so I'm going to ignore my embarrassment at not knowing how to pretend I'm cool, and just ask directly if you'd like to dance with me?"

He raised an eyebrow and gave me the once-over. "You didn't seem too confused when you pulled that tuatara on the floor," he said.

"I'm just happy I didn't fall right over," I said, putting out my paw and introducing myself.

"Victor O'Neal," he told me, half-hesitant to shake the paw at first, though he did with some reserved calm, giving me the fishy, unenthusiastic grip of a corpse.

"Got a boyfriend?" I asked. "Or just uninterested?"

He laughed, crossing his arms. "Why would you care?"

"Because if I'm striking out right now, I'd rather get out of the box before I humiliate us even further."

"Listen, don't let it bruise your ego," he said. "You're cute and all. I've just done this song and dance before, and it ends with my bed and my wallet emptied."

"No way. It sounds like I'm the only one that's been drinking."

"Like you just turned 21," he said, waving the air. "Your first college kegger and you wind up at this dump?"

"I like it here," I said. "Or at least, I'm convincing myself of that to fill some gaping void. And if it's such a dump, why are you here?"

"Call it a dare," he said.

"Jesus Christ, bro, do you even like guys, or does your dare involve leading someone on? Come on. Do you wanna dance, or should I just get out of your face?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah, what? Ugh, you're giving me whisky dick here."

"I mean yeah, guys are great. I'm up enough on the bi spectrum where fooling around doesn't bother me. It's part of the reason my girlfriend and I are here, screwing around with the whole open relationship concept."

I took a conscious step back, waving my hand. "Oh, no. I'm not jumping into that pit of snakes."

"I thought it was just a dance," Victor said.

"Well, it would have been, except we've been busy arguing and all the sane people are out on the floor being silly. Wait, your girlfriend wouldn't happen to be a wild dog named Irene?"

"How'd you know?"

I laughed. "Drunken precognition. My pal Brian is trying to score with her, and she had the same kinda fed-up attitude you do. You guys are perfect for each other; why mess with the exclusivity?"

"You're not giving up, are you?"

"You haven't given me a hard no. And unless I'm far too literal-minded, you also haven't told me to beat it in the abstract."

"I haven't told you not to."

I stared at him. "Are we talking about the same 'beat it'?"

"I Don't know anymore," Victor said. "Maybe we should-"

"Wait," I said, holding a finger up and twisting my ear. "Do you hear that?"

It was a female voice in a loud groan: "Oh my_god_, Rick, maybe if you didn't have a horrible personality, you'd get some tips!"

"What is he doing here, anyway?" the boar roared. Victor turned to the source of the disturbance as I pointed over to a corner.

"What are you doing here?" Brian said.

"Shut up! You're not my dad."

"Of course he isn't," I muttered. "Brian's actually good looking, and also I was busy jerking off your dad last night, so hah."

Victor backed away slowly as Brick roared up, looking for the sound of the disturbance. "Which of you dead punks said that?"

"What a klutz," I said to Victor.

"Yeah, I'm gonna go over there," he said, pointing somewhere else.

"Alright. Your loss, bro," I said, turning around, to see if anybody else was interested, when the most spectacular noise screamed from the back of my head. Maybe it was the booze, but it wasn't so much painful as it was shocking. I turned around to see the shattered remains of a wine glass collecting behind me. Either it was still full, or the glass cut me up bad; it was getting hard to tell.

"You!" came the blubbery shout from in the corner. Brick perched himself with clenched fists, staring bullets at me. "Get ready for some overdue payback, you little punk!"

It felt like a train rumbling towards me as the club's ground shook with the impact of Rick's charging. Time slowed to a syrupy crawl as the absurd face of my imminent death came barreling, and I was too busy giggling at the absurdity of it to appreciate the gravity. I was too plastered and confused to even run.

But just before he reached me, his eyes rolled up in the back of his head, and he went crashing on his belly in front of me, sliding to a stop and leaving cracks in the floor. He was knocked out; I saw electric diodes sticking out of him, which met at the barrel of a Taser held by a hard-breathing skunk in a nice top. He wiped sweat from under his glasses and regained his composure.

"Are you okay?" the skunk asked me.

"Holy crap!" Judd shouted, fluttering towards me. "What happened? Wait, Rick? Oh..."

"What's going on?" I heard Clark shout from a distance. "I was in the bathroom and I heard an airplane hit us."

"Judd, do you know these people?" the skunk asked as Clark, Brian, and Irene drew closer to the scene. The music still pulsed in an absurd fashion as the patrons widened the empty circle around us."

"Why did you hire that guy?" Judd demanded of the skunk.

"And why do you have a Taser?" I said, head tilting.

"Because I own the place, and I'm off-duty at my other job. And Mr Mayfield here cleared the background check and, well, customer response surveys indicate many of them are chubby chasers."

"He's a Dangerous psychopath, you idiot," Clark said.

"Well, he was perfectly charming during the interview. His other employer gave him a glowing endorsement."

"He has tenure! Because the school doesn't want to deal with a lawsuit!"

"Alright, well, we're the private sector, so I'll be sure to file his dismissal papers in the morning, while I'm doing damage control for the fact he almost assaulted a customer. In the meantime, it's probably best that you and your friends retire for the night."

"You're kicking us out because this guy ruined our night?"

"Please, just make this easy for me," the skunk said, rubbing his temples. "If he wakes up, I'd rather you not be here."

"Fine," I said, sauntering over to the bar where Austin was serving Victor. "Hey," I said. Victor looked scared of me, but Austin was concerned. "Thanks for showing me a good time, but I think I'll turn in early."

"That's understandable," he said, gulping. "I hope you can come back soon."

"Yeah. Once the high-school bully reject gets canned. Maybe. But only for you, cuz you're cute, and I'm still gonna convince this guy over here when I'm sober, or at least a touch less horrified."

"Sure, Derek," he said as my friends gathered around me.

"Hey guys," I said. "Are you gonna finish your shift, Judd?"

His head hung down, like on weights. "Phil said I should just take the night off. It's his way of asking me not to sue."

"Fair enough," I said.

"Well, shall we go, then?" Clark asked.

We agreed, Brian said goodbye to Irene, and we walked back into the night, whose air suddenly became chilling cold after the animal hive of the Mercurial. We piled into the Honda, and sat there for a moment after buckling up, just to get used to the silence.

"This was my fault, you guys," Brian said.

"No, it was mine, for having my face," I said.

"It's mine," Judd said, "Since it was my idea."

"Hey, it's okay, guys," Clark said. "It's nobody's fault. And at least none of us got hurt."

I laughed. "Tell that to my head."

"Oh, no," he said, reaching his hand back and feeling the back of my head, which caused an involuntary rumble of pleasure from me. "Nothing feels broken, but you're a bit cut," he said, looking at the red on his hand. "We should take you to the hospital, just to be sure."

I blew a raspberry. "Who needs that kind of expenditure breathing down your neck by some scummy medical debt collectors? I'll be fine. But thank you."

"Don't you have insurance?"

"Doesn't kick in for another 89 days. Maybe longer if my showing up wired and hungover makes them cast doubts on my long-term prospects there. Of course, given my co-worker's habits, maybe I'm in the clear."

"I'm just concerned," Clark said.

"Yeah, Derek," Judd said. "Are you sure you Don't want to press charges?"

"I Don't want to get your employer involved and get you hurt. We'll deal with Brick later, I just can't think right now. More so than usual."

"I did have a part in provoking the old pile of sludge," Brian said.

"You could set things right by evicting the piece of crap," Clark said. "He's gone after Derek twice now. At this point, your sense of obligation is officially overridden. Even the club's about to can him, and he didn't last a full day."

"Yeah," Brian said. "Let me just... not think about it for a few hours. Nothing I can do with the offices closed, anyway," he said.

"I'm so awake," I said, my head starting to pound. "I Don't think I'll be able to use that nice bed you prepped for me tonight," I said.

"Hey, don't sweat it. Maybe we should all get a coffee or an energy drink or something. Head somewhere a little quieter while we get our bearings."

"Sounds good to me," Judd said, and Clark fired up the old engine and pulled out of the lot. Since we weren't heading home immediately, I found myself lost in highway fatigue again.

We made it to the old run-down diner on the outskirts of town, its parking lot full of truckers like tired ghosts.

"I know it's not the best," Clark said, "but it's a 24-hour joint."

"No complaints here," Judd said. "It'll help process my sense of disbelief."

"That's the spirit," Brian said as we pulled into the lot, turned the car off and walked like pensioned zombies through the front door.

The diner was lit with the overhead lamps of decades prior, stubbornly clinging to the old hot style of lightbulb which had a way of attracting flies even in the driest of climates. We walked past sticky floors dotted with the laminated sheets of crumpled old menus, watching the few people who'd found their way here at such a desolate hour. At the near end was a brown mouse in overalls, reading a newspaper so young off the press you could smell the ink drying from here, sipping on a coffee that predated it by a day from her own weathered thermos.

"Be right with you, darlings," said the middle-aged elephant in a black company skirt, clearing one of the tables for us. She held a large circular plate on her trunk, where she swept up the mugs and dishes of a graveyard shifter's breakfast, hauling it back over to the kitchen, where a fox and a badger took care of the few incoming orders with quiet graceful efficiency. She indicated a clean table for us and had us seated, distributing our menus. "And how is everyone doing this morning?"

"Just fine, thank you," I said, holding my head.

"I reckon you'd care for some nice hot coffee," she said, sliding four clean mugs toward us and maneuvering the pot she carried with her trunk towards them.

"Thank you very much," Brian said, taking a long and grateful sip.

"Why, y'all look positively beat. I take it this ain't your normal hour of operation. Feel free to tell ol' Betsy all about it; I love the stillness of the hour but it does lend itself to some stories."

Judd smiled with a tired exhale. "Oh, just some work-related issues. Nothing too upsetting, just exhausting."

"Sure, sugar. I'll give you pups some time to decide if you want any food in your bellies. Orca's got some nice anatomy, but the rest of you are thinner than the peach fuzz on your bellies." She blushed, and put her hand up to her face. "Just holler if you need me."

"Thanks, ma'am," Brian said with a nod, and she tiptoed away. "See, Clark? The night's not over. You still have a chance."

"Oh man," I said, fighting off my head's pounding with the sweet black nectar in my mug. "I Don't know how you guys can be play-fighting after that amazing routine you pulled back there. Where in the world did that come from?"

"Just a couple of heteros trying to one-up me," Judd said.

"Just an old trick back from our own college days," Brian said. "Back when we joked about becoming a travelling magician duo. Figured it wouldn't hurt to learn how to make an entrance - so we just started applying it when Judd first invited us over."

"It's like being twenty all over again," Clark said.

"Only a decade ago for me," Judd said. "It's amazing how fast that time in your life just whizzes by."

"Is that supposed to be reassuring?" I said. "Not that I should be surprised, as I just realized that I turned twenty-one yesterday."

Clark bit his lip. "No wonder you're such a colossal lightweight."

"Joke's on you, that's a contradiction in terms."

He laughed, softly, taking a sip from his mug as he looked outside the window, toward the faintest slivers of pink.

"No. That can't be right," I said, and scrambled when the alarm on my phone went off. I pulled it out and hit the red X, staring in disbelief through bleary eyes at the 5:38am its clock insisted on telling me.

"Hmm," Clark said. "Guess we lost track of time driving around, dancing at the Mercurial, and sitting in parking lots."

Betsy returned, voluptuous and sexing herself up through the undersized dress. "Do y'all need another minute?"

"God, or a hundred and twenty," I said, shaking my head. "I guess I could go for a breakfast, but I haven't even cracked the menu. And I mighta blown my funds on Irish coffee. Hopefully I burned all the calories dancing."

"Tell you what, hon, I'll bring y'all some nice wheat toast and jam to stimulate the ol' salivary glands, then you can decide if you want any more."

"Sounds good," I said, and Betsy sashayed away again.

"Think you'll go to work today?" Judd asked, taking a sip.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just if you're not feeling up to it, you might wanna call in and stay in bed for the next twenty-four hours."

"Sets a bad precedent if I miss my second day. Technically my first on schedule, but I still got paid for today. I think."

"I just get the feeling," Clark said, "There might be some mismatch in personality, and you may wanna try out a few more places."

"Not really an option," I said.

"Even somewhere that gave you medical, so you could have your head examined."

"You've just been dying to make that joke," I said. "It was just a wine glass. I'm not concussed, and anything nasty will heal in a day or two. Hope I'm not bleeding all over the booth, though."

"Eh, they've wiped down nastier stuff than wolf's blood," Brian said.

"Sounds like a drug."

Our toasts came. I was hesitant at first but the bread remained pleasant and fluffy through the toasting, and the jam didn't taste a year past its sell-by date.

The rising sun cast a grim light as we stared toward the encroaching sunrise, and through a hungover fog I snorted:

"Oh, yeah, Judd. Bats are nocturnal."

"Aren't wolves, also?"

"That would explain a lot," I said.

"Not so fond of the sun, are you?" he said, holding up a wing as the rays began searing through the window.

"It's not so bad," Brian said.

"Silence, diurnal scum," Judd replied.

"Y'all gonna be alright?" Clark asked.

"And Don't y'all worry about Brick the Prick now," Brian said, fondling his empty mug. "I'll take care of it when I get back to the office."

"Thanks," I said.

Betsy came back up to us, still smiling but a bit more tired herself. "Time sure flies, huh?"

"Oh, man, we've been here way too long," Judd said, apologizing.

"Don't you worry about that, sugar, not like you're holding it up for anyone else. Besides, it's nice to have you here. I sure wouldn't mind having you boys here for all of your post-escapade sobriety stops."

"Thanks," I said. "Can I have a triple-espresso and then be on our way?"

"Sure thing, pumpkin. I'll even put it in a nice travel mug."

"Better make it iced, or I'll definitely hurt myself."

"You got it, babe," she said with a wink, returning to the kitchen. She returned with an XL paper cup and our check; we scrambled together what cash we had, including enough for an oversized tip, and headed back outside. Judd raised his wing to hide from the sun again, and I crouched to get some shade myself.

"You know, you're in a bigger city now, and those are much more accommodating to nocturnal animals," Clark said.

"Maybe Hank's got a few night scenes he needs a drunken clubgoer for," I said.

"Who's Hank?" Brian asked.

"Pal of mine that I owe a call. Maybe during today's lunch break I'll ask around. He told me he's got some extra roles for whatever commercial or bad direct-to-DVD film he's working on."

"You made friends with an agent?" Judd said.

"Yeah," I said as we piled back into the Honda and strapped in. "Maybe he has some for you, too. I imagine crowd sizes are flexible enough."

"As far as the studios' paychecks will stretch," Brian said.

"Worth a shot," Clark said. "Derek, shall I drop you off at the office?"

"That'd be lovely," I said, sipping the cold espresso and letting it work its hyperconcentrated magic, my adenosine receptors self-immolating. "I shouldn't need my satchel since today we're not going out in the field."

"Ten-four, bud," Clark said.

He dropped me off at the parking lot and I stood, waving goodbye, shielding myself against the radioactive rays of cosmic horror, thinking it was time I invested in some of those expensive, ophthalmologist-approved lenses. Maybe once I grabbed my first paycheck from the joint.

I swiped my card across - this time it blinked green and let me in! - and cavorted toward the meeting room from earlier, where I saw my co-workers sitting around, looking as hungover as I felt.

"Feel like it's been minutes," I said, walking in.

"You look like hell," Jin Li said, biting on a pencil.

"Yeah. Oh, hey, Carl."

The kangaroo grabbed his head and stared down at the desk behind a forest of unkempt, stubbly fur.

"Never seen the old hopper dialed back from eleven," I said as I sat down next to Chris.

"Us either," he said.

"Did nobody get any sleep last night? Because I, uh, totally didn't."

"Ronnie should be here any second," Carl said, looking at the clock with a bloodshot, empty stare.

JoAnn's ear twitched. "What does _she_want, anyway?"

Carl raised his head, his mouth falling as two more people entered. One was Harvey Haley, looking like he watched his eggs get smooshed by an oncoming train, and the other was a smelly and high-maintenance mink wearing a perky blouse emphasizing her fake padding and a uselessly small pair of spectacles. Harvey sat in back, while the mink said:

"I suppose it's obvious why I've had to see you all personally." She paused and looked at Carl, still boring down into his desk. "Oh, look alive, you tepid nutcase. Such grimness doesn't befit you."

"Sure, ma'am."

I said: "Did you get a chance to read my first draft?"

She slowly turned to look at me, like I was one of her vases that decided to just jump off the stand itself. "Oh, you're the intern."

JoAnn said, "I can't believe you even bothered with that fluff piece, anyway."

The mink clapped. "Pay attention, people! Or do I have to read your dossier in person?" She pulled out her phone and started scrolling through her screen. "Harassment and bullying of my daughter, Valerie..."

"Whoa, hold the phone," JoAnn said. "That stupid frou-frou poodle whore was related to you? No wonder the genes transmitted the species barrier. Or did you just bang some back-alley Pierre and doll him up, too?"

The mink fumed, leaving clawmarks in her phone.

"JoAnn, what the hell are you doing?" Chris said.

The mink pointed at the tiger. "Don't think you're getting out of this either, Mr Dallas."

"What did I do?"

"Yeah, ya dusty old snatch," JoAnn said, edging forward. "He's not the evil mastermind who gave your lay here the works at his crummy restaurant."

Harvey cried out: "I'm not sleeping with Veronica! There's no nepotism involved here, so whatever it is you hope to get back at us for is totally unfounded."

"Keep digging your own grave, Harvey," Veronica said. "It suits you."

"There's no reasoning out of this," Carl said. "I should have predicted something like this would happen. It just seems too absurd not to happen."

"We're lucky the property owners and patrons aren't pressing charges over this little scheme," Veronica said. "I've been up all night putting out those particular fires, and even my daughter is willing to settle out of court."

"Settle?" Chris asked.

"Allow me to cut right to it," Veronica said. "This 'team' is dissolved. Through your own malevolence or outright negligence, we're taking a major hit, and I can ill afford to have anyone who so much as drive past the Predator's Inn fouling up our perception here. Nothing short of swift, decisive termination, and a sincere apology from you all-"

JoAnn burst out into laughter. She roared hard, almost falling out of her chair in contractions, to the enraged consternation of the mink.

"You think it's all so funny, Don't you? We'll see how much you're laughing when I chain you to your desk."

JoAnn wiped her face, got up, and stood next to Veronica crossing her arms.

"You think you can boss us around _after_firing us?"

"I can make things so much worse for you. Say goodbye to the renewal of your work visa, for starters."

"Oh, right, that," JoAnn said. "I guess you really got me over a hill on that one. Oh, yes, shall I grovel on bended knee for you, Veronica, after you've so thoroughly screwed me over, selling me out for this talentless, overrated hack of a vulture over there?"

"That 'hack' is going to make me very rich - and could have single-handedly continued your employment, had you not acted so reckless, callous, and endangered our critical customer base."

"I've heard enough," JoAnn said, throwing her arms up. "Take your visa re-approval signature and shove it up your ass, you entitled bitch. I'm out of here, and I hope to see your crusty carcass under my plane's wheels."

JoAnn turned to walk away.

"You can't!" Veronica howled. "What would your father say?"

JoAnn froze in her tracks, turning back, and baring fangs that could have already been stained with blood.

"He'd cheer me on if I knocked you out cold."

JoAnn spat on the ground, turned away, and threw the door out of her way, walking outside.

"Should we go after her?" Jin Li asked.

Harvey shook his head. "No. She's right to be angry."

"This is all your fault," Veronica said, straightening herself and trying to resume her poise despite her ruffled fur. "And you're all still fired. So if you don't mind, I have a media empire to rebuild."

"But-"

"Now, Carl."

We left her alone, thrust back out there into the hideous early morning, and the pulsing in my head downgraded to a riot. JoAnn was nowhere to be found.

"I deserve this," Carl said, shaking his head. "But none of you did. I'll... try and talk to her, when she's had some time to process it. She had no reason to take your jobs."

"It's not your fault," Jin Li said.

"Yeah," Chris added.

"I guess I'll... figure something out," Carl said.

"Well, I'm going to bed, then," I said, turning to walk away. "Before I start to process this on a higher level and start panicking. Later."

"Hold on, Derek," Chris said. "Let me take you. Maybe we could do something. Like, um, look for jobs at the mall." He looked at his feet and timidly grabbed his forearm. "I'd like to show you something. If you have some time."

"I haven't slept in over twenty-four hours."

"I know, it's just..." he said, biting his lip. "It's important. Well, maybe it isn't, but to me it is. If that makes sense."

"Nothing does, at this hour," I said. "If it matters to you, though, I can suck it up and go for a personal best. Make up for the lack of cramming and all-nighters at college."

Chris broke into a wide, glowing smile. "Is it okay with you guys if we go?" he asked the crowd.

"'Course not," Carl said. "It's your life. And former work hours."

"No sweat," Jin Li said. "I'll go drag my laptop to the coffee shop and hope somebody notices me."

"Cool," Chris said. "And um, we have all each other's contact info, right? Stay in touch - I Don't want to give up hope here. Later," he said. I waved goodbye as I followed Chris to strap myself into Maxine once again, in such a short time.

"Are you okay?" he asked as we buckled up, placing a hand under my chin. "I mean, I know you're tired, but in other respects. Please Don't feel like I'm making you go."

"You know, I've met some nice people here - some real pricks, too, but a lot of real angels - and I've always been so terrified of that being taken away, that I Don't allow myself to get close to people. And then circumstantial stuff happens and sorta proves me theory right - I can't stay here without a job, and I may have to crawl back to my sister, tail tucked between legs, while I try and figure it all for another short-term patch on this particular problem."

"Hey," he said, holding my paw. "We're not going to lose each other, alright? I know what you mean. Let me show you what I wanted to."

"Sure," I said, already falling into micronaps when we hit the road. Only a few speed bumps and cracked roads later did he pull to a stop in front of some old ghetto, replete with graffiti.

"Don't worry, it's safe," he said. "Mostly just property crime, when you leave your stuff out on the curb or whatever."

"Where the hell are we?" I asked, straining my glance at the bars and barbed wire where windows should have been.

A crooked grin etched on his face. "Sweet home," he said.

"Huh?"

My suburban breeding trained me to brace for the rings of gunfire, but he just let me out to a relative silence, only a blue-jumpsuiter worker rat sweeping the sidewalk and emptying the bins. He led me through a narrow stairwell with an unfortunate, pungent odor, and dug out his keys to a third-floor hovel on a narrow floor.

"Here we are," he said, letting me into the room.

And that's really what it was. The space could technically be classified as a studio apartment, but it barely edged out my old bedroom. His bed was in the deep right corner, unmade and tucked away, stuffed animals and pillows gone sprawling. On the other side, near left, was the micro-kitchen, replete with dorm fridge and heating skillet. Across from the bed was a relatively small flat-screen and entertainment center, while the near right corner contained the door to the bathroom and a pile of dirty clothes. I walked farther in, treading on threadbare carpet and seeing the peeling walls where he couldn't efficiently cover the decay with posters from cartoons and video games.

"Now you know," he said, scratching the back of his neck.

"Not really," I said, turning to him. "That Mini you drive costs more than this entire building's liquid value."

"Yeah, well," he said with a nervous laugh, looking to me with a paw turned upward, "Consider it a severance deal. The folks were happy to let the car go too if it meant an easier time getting rid of me. At least I hadn't upgraded to the Mercs and Bimmers that they'd gone to. Chump change, really."

"What was the deciding factor?" I asked. "Announcing that you're gay, or that you want to be a photographer?"

He padded over to the tiny old coffee maker and poured a couple of weak looking mugs, sliding one over to me.

"I Don't know," he said. "Maybe it was a combination of those factors, along with the idea that I didn't want to just totally surrender to nepotistic inertia."

"Family business?"

"In a sense, yeah," he said with a sip.

"Mercenaries?"

He laughed. "Nothing so glamorous. Petroleum engineers. Government contracts, that sorta deal."

"Beyond me."

"Me too," he said.

"Why exactly did you bring me here?" I said, waving an arm in the enclosed space. "I mean, should I be feeling pity? Cuz matter of fact, I think the setup is kinda cute. I like that you took a suboptimal position and made it your own. That's all any of us can aim for, right?"

"I Don't want you to feel bad for me," he said, "I wanted you to know definitively that I'm not just some ditzy rich kid who viewed either that job, or you, as some silly, droll achievements that had no bearing on the real world. I do care about you, and unless I'm massively misreading your gestures-"

"You should play more to your demographic," I said. "Most people Don't care that much about the car you drive or the clothes you wear."

"It's not that," he said. "I knew you'd be cool with it, but I was referring more to my personality."

"Perhaps I'm just jaded to that sorta thing," I said. "No offense."

"None taken. And I'm sure you're the first to admit your own character deficits."

"Even if we're both screwed up and maybe even objectively defective as people, we sort of root for each other."

He set the mug down. "Then do you actually do like my abode? I know it's not what you were hoping for."

"I like you. Your space reflects your personality, therefore it's cool. I'd rather have something flawed, messy, and lived in than an empty immaculate chamber."

"I'm still surprised you agreed to come along. I was afraid that you wouldn't want to see me outside of a work scenario. That you wouldn't want to be anything more than 'work buds'. I wasn't sure if you were giving signals or being polite. When we got canned in there - when all of it went down with JoAnn, who I'll have to scramble to reach once this all blows over - if it does - I almost expected you to walk away and never return. That's when I knew, if I could reach you again, I could take one more chance."

"Your appallingly low standards are endearing."

His ears perked towards me. "Does that mean you'd like to stay?"

"It means that I want to be more than friends with you."

He set the mug down on the counter next to mine, opening his arms to me. I felt myself drawn into Chris's embrace as I put my arms around his midsection. His stomach and chest were comforting and warm, like a well-worn bed. I looked up to his face, just a head or so taller than myself, feeling the patch of his nice full beard atop my nose. I reached up and kissed him.

He blushed. "I wanna be more than friends, too."

"Sounds good," I said. "I am so spent, though."

"Yeah, I didn't sleep much myself. Thought about planning to ask you over, but it happened sooner than expected."

"We'll figure out the job thing," I said.

"For sure," he said.

"I like your bed."

"You're welcome to sleep with me."

I squeezed his arm to say yes. We sauntered over and he pulled a sheet up, snuggling me under the covers, where I finally surrendered to sleep.

Thursday, February 3, 2011

11:50am

"Ugh," I said, kicking and thrashing as my head pounded. "How long was I out just then?"

"Morning', sunshine," Chris said as he sat in the kitchen, stirring a coffee. "It's almost noon."

"Noon tomorrow?"

"Thursday."

"Holy crap," I yelped, falling out of bed, fumbling for my phone.

"Got somewhere to be?"

"My roomies will be worried. I can't believe I just slept for twenty-four hours. What's wrong with me?"

He took a sip. "I could take you back home, and you could blame me for kidnapping you. Invent something fancy about a hostage situation."

"That's alright," I said, looking down at my screen. "There's no notifications, anyway. Should I feel insulted?"

"Depends how much energy you wish to expend."

"Oh man," I said. "The obligations just came rushing back to me. I was already 'coasting' on my rent this month. Now what are we gonna do?"

"I shot out a few applications yesterday and this morning. I'm still in touch with Carl. They're chewing it out with upper management - they're not happy that Veronica just blackballed them and they're short one department."

"We should still hedge our bets, then. Mind if I make a few calls?"

"Go right ahead," he said, scrolling through his tablet.

I got back up, stretching, looking at my glorious morning fur, in need of a major brushing and still splotched from our yesterday adventure. I brought Hank up on the dialer and let it ring as I got up to sit in the bed, against the wall, idly watching my reflection on the TV.

"Prescott Talent Management," came the voice on the other end.

"Damn Hank, don't you have a secretary for phone calls?"

"Who's this?"

"It's Derek, that weird guy from the bus two days ago."

He laughed, a distant and friendly bellow. "It's great to hear from you! A bit surprising, but welcome."

"Guess what? I may need to take you up on your offer after all. My department head went psycho and axed all of us. Funny innit?"

He tisked. "Wish I could say I wasn't expecting that. Perhaps it's for the best - you might at least be able to get some wrongful termination money if they Don't totally declare bankruptcy."

"I wouldn't count on it," I said.

"Hey, listen," he said, dropping an octave. "I, uh... wasn't expecting such an early return."

"I Don't mean to impose," I said.

"No, not at all, it's just not the best time."

"Busy? Booked up?"

"In a sense. I mean, it may be the opposite. I'm going through a bit of a rough patch. Standard wax and wane, and uh..."

"It's waning," I said, rubbing my nose.

"Nothing I haven't been through before," Hank said.

"Well, if anything does come up..."

"You'll be the first to know, my friend, I promise."

"Thanks bud," I said, clicking off.

Chris set his mug down. "That sounded promising."

"Shut up. I'm not worried at all. Why would you say that?"

"I..."

"Hang on. Got one more," I said, rolling over, combing through the phone. "Is it okay if I charge this?"

"Of course, there's an outlet under the lamp."

"Thanks," I said, plugging it in. I sent off a text message to Clark telling him, don't sweat it, I'm alive after all.

"Are you procrastinating this one?"

"Yeah," I said. "I'm not sure where I'd begin with her."

"Just start rambling and build it together from that."

"Solid plan," I said, dialing her up. After about ninety-seven rings it bled into a generic voicemail box.

"Hey Gina," I said after the beep, "I really wish you'd record a new message. Makes me feel like I'm talking to a non-sentient chatbot. Anyway, let me just get it out there that I'm sorry." I gulped. "I'm an absolute dunderhead, and you were right about everything. I'm proud of you for all you're doing at college, and wish I'd been blessed with one tenth of your brain."

I paused.

"This is the part where you pick up the phone after dramatically sauntering towards it to stem the tide of my blabbering. Otherwise I'll just continue until it's full. I won't be like the scary parent who leaves 495 messages. I... oh, maybe you're in class now. That's what your new message should say. Anyway. I love you. Call the idiot soon for more."

I hung up, putting the phone near the lamp to charge, leaning my head against the wall.

"Well," I said. "I shouldn't impose my stay more than I already did. Sorry for laying here for a day. Jesus."

"It's no trouble," Chris said.

My phone rang.

I gave him a look, to which he nodded sure, pick it up. I walked over and saw Gina's picture on the ID, and lifted it up to my face.

"Hey, Geen."

"It's fine, Derek. You can come home if you wish."

"Huh?"

"Dude, you obviously got canned. I could smell it through the speaker. It's fine. Mom doesn't even really grasp that you're gone, so it'll be like nothing happened."

I laughed. "You'd never believe me if I denied it."

"Of course not. What happened, anyway? You're not a psycho, so you should be able to hold a steady job."

"It's amazing what we get ourselves into, huh?" I said.

"Just let me know if you need anything, okay?"

"I will. And I really am sorry for being such a tool."

"You're good, dude. Just stay aboveboard, all right?"

"I love you, Geen."

"Love you too, Der-Bear."

I set the phone down. "She's another person I'd like you to meet," I said. "You didn't happen to date a person named Gina Peck ten years ago, would ya?"

"Who?"

"Thank the heavens," I said. "My sister. The person to whom I can most attribute my not being strung-out on a side corner."

"Glad you have her," he said.

"You'll love her, I promise. In any case, I should probably get on the ol' gig section. You can join me, of course."

"I got a job interview in a couple hours I'll need to get to."

"You should prep for that," I said.

"Sure. But I can still drive you to your apartment."

"Thanks," I said. "Normally I'd try to hoof it, but..."

"Bad area, I know."

"You know, maybe if we pooled our resources..."

"Hmm?"

"Never mind. Dumb thought. What resources, right?"

"We'll figure it out," he said as we locked up and headed to the garage.

1:31pm

I waved him goodbye as he drove off in Maxine, the fumbled for my keys, treading water in the anticipatory dread of what I'd tell them when I got here.

To my surprise, the lights were on, and I heard two voices arguing from the kitchen. "Hello?" I said, vaguely afraid that we were getting robbed.

"Derek, you're back," Clark said, running up and surprise embracing me.

I patted him on the back. "Hey big guy, what's going on?"

Brian walked behind us, arms folded. "Well, Clark, are you gonna man up and tell him yourself this time?"

Clark ignored the admonition. "I wasn't expecting you to be home now, but I'm glad. I wasn't here last night, so I didn't know you were gone either, otherwise I would have called to make sure you were okay."

"Where were you?"

He stepped back, looking sheepish. "My parents' house."

"I think I know where this is going," I said. "But you know what? I'm only home now because I just got fired, too. Chris says it's temporary but you can't really bet on that, you know? Ergo, I'm gonna look for something before the end of the month. Looks like I'll need a roommate too."

"I'm sorry," Clark said.

"Tell that to Brian," I said, turning to the buck. "I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to just get rid of me, too. I'm sure there's some drug dealer you can lease this place out to or whatever."

"Technically you have until the end of the month," Brian said. "And I Don't want to get rid of you, like you're some burden. I'm just angry that the small allotment of stability is being ripped out from under us."

"Hell, I'm surprised it lasted over twenty-four hours."

"Come on, don't say that," Clark said.

"Funny enough, I didn't even do anything to get myself fired, other than wind up in the crosshairs of that bitch Veronica, so I can't even be mad at myself. So, if you'll pardon me, I'm gonna stare at some job postings on the internet." I walked over to my room without another word.

3:02pm

I felt a gentle nudging on my shoulder.

I awoke in a puddle of my own drool on my dusty old keyboard, with a minor shudder of revulsion as I reoriented myself, the glaring light of the monitor showing the most recent draft of some inane cover letter I'd been forging. Buried in a tab on the far right was the title of some deep listed page on a porn site, and I lost track of how long I'd spent on each task.

"Hey Der," said a tall bat, on his knees with a hand on my shoulder. "Mind if I come in?"

"Oh. Hi Judd," I slurred. "Yeah. Have a seat. Did I just fall asleep again? It's still Thursday, right?"

"Yep," he said. "And I have the night off, as a matter of fact."

"Oh Christ, don't tell me you got fired too."

"Nah. Boss is still chewing on a log over the whole incident with Brick the Prick," he said, scooting up on my bed. "Wanted to let me decompress during one of our slower nights. So I figured I'd drop by for a visit after you got back and, well, Brian told me what happened."

"He's still here? What's going on with Clark?"

"He's in his room. I'm not sure how he's doing, but Brian told me that the business dried up for good on his side."

"Yeah," I said, nodding slowly. "That's why I'm here now, trying to sort it all out. Digging through my contacts for old references. I wasn't planning to be retrying this so early. It should all be fresh in my memory, but it isn't. That's the spooky thing, Judd. I was scrolling through my phone numbers, and I had this eerie premonition of being an older person and realizing that half of their contacts are either dead or too far gone to speak to in any normal sense."

"Derek, if you're worried that you're going crazy, Don't. You just had too much to drink and got your circadian rhythm out of whack. It's happened to me before, when I tried adapting to diurnal time. Damn near started hallucinating before it started calming down.

I stood up. "Do you mind if we went in and told Clark something?"

He joined me. "Not at all."

I walked over through the hall and towards his room, knocking on the door.

"Go away, Brian," Clark said. "I can't do anything else right now."

"It's your future former roomie," I said.

"Oh," Clark replied.

"May I come in?"

Silence.

"Clark?"

"Sure, bud. Come on in."

I opened his door, leaving enough open for Judd, hoping he wouldn't mind. I found Clark in much the same position Judd found me, hunched on a computer chair.

He said: "It's just hard to start over at my age."

"I know, man," I said. "But Judd's here too, right?"

"Hey bro," Judd said, "We've been through rough patches before, right?"

"Yeah," Clark nodded.

"And they're never as impossible as they seem."

"You two should go enjoy yourselves," Clark said. "I need to stay in bed for a few hours. You guys deserve a nice time together. And no, don't feel pressured for it to be romantic."

"Want to?" Judd asked me.

"Well, okay," I said. "That sounds nice, actually. Let me just tell him. I... want you to hear his voice. It's probably just voicemail, since he should have his own job interview soon, but hey, your boyfriend and your buds gotta get along, right?"

"Yeah man, it's for the best," Judd said.

"Well, okay. Hang on. Let me bring him up."

I highlighted his name and dialed the number, putting it on speaker as we all leaned against each other on the floor.

"Hey bud," came the live voice.

"Chris, is that you?" I said.

"Of course, silly. How's it going?"

"Oh, thank the heavens," I said. "Say hi to my roomies!"

"Hey roomies," Chris said.

"Hi!" Judd and Clark said in unison, with an unnecessary wave for emphasis.

"When's your interview?" I asked.

"Already had it. It went well! Got another lined up in a few."

"Okay. I'm gonna hang with my bud Judd for a while. I just wanted to say hi and maybe we could hang later?"

"Well now," he said, licking his lips audibly. "Your place or mine?"

"Don't know how much longer it'll be 'mine', so I'd suggest here."

"Keep your hope alive, man. We'll be fine."

"Sounds good, bud."

We hung up, and I turned to Judd. "Shall we?"

The bat beamed.

"Feel better, Clark," I said as we got up.

Judd closed the door, while a flurry of chill greeted us, carrying leaves in a stiff breeze in autumnal remains.

"Hey, you two! Wait up! I'm glad we caught you."

A black bear and a bearded vulture came jogging up to us, both slightly winded.

"Holy crap, it's Harvey Haley," Judd said.

"Umm, what brings you by? Hank? Wait a minute, what?"

"Oh man, you guys know each other?" Judd said. "How's that even possible? Oh, I wish I had something to sign."

"Don't sweat it," Hank said between huffs, "I'm sure you'll get the opportunity."

"On the co-worker topic," Harvey said, "I figured this would be the perfect opportunity to go after an old dream of mine. Full personal autonomy. We could start a new online cooking show! I've got the celebrity gravitas for the ratings, Chris can be the cameraman, you can be the social media guy, Jin the web developer. What do you think?"

I staggered back a bit. "You're kidding, right?"

"I got the blessing from my agent," Harvey said, thumbing at Hank, who nodded.

"He's your connection to Eat Good?"

"Formerly. It's a bit of an uphill battle," Hank said, "But the timing couldn't be better."

"You'd really want me involved?" I asked.

"You're cheap," Hank said.

"What about the others?" I asked.

"Waiting to confirm, but we Don't anticipate any holdouts!" Harvey said. "What do you say?"

"I'm honored," I said, "and I Don't have a choice either way."

"That's the spirit," Hank said.

"Great," Harvey said. "I figured we do it all at my house. I just need some time to prep, then I'll send Hank out to fetch the old crew. Beats sitting around in some jerk's office all day, right?"

"Yeah," I said, "I mean it's risky, but at this point, so what?"

"Damn right," Harvey said.

"I'll grab y'all tomorrow, alright?" Hank said.

"It's a date," I said.

We exchanged numbers and they bounded off, positively skipping as they went to a late model English sedan, juxtaposed eerily with the neighborhood's relative poverty, and zipped off.

"Dude," Judd said.

"I know," I said.

"Well that definitely calls for more than what I had in mind."

"I'm sure it's perfectly fine," I said.

We walked onward through the cinderblocked cars and the dead lawns and reached a small café on the street side of a decrepit strip mall. Despite its condition, a few people hung around, sipping out of cheap brown paper cups and nibbling on some old pastries.

"I know it doesn't look like much, but you should try the green tea," he said. "It'll help settle your mind, bring you back down to earth."

I complied; we grabbed a rickety table outside toward the rear, where we had a view of the cramped highway and the busted old side road overlooking us. I took a sip of the tea.

"What do you think?" Judd asked.

"It's fine, man," I said, lost in thought, watching a lone tumbleweed drift in front of the store, parking itself just on the entrance. "Huh. Look at that."

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, man. Just saw a ghost, is all."

"Really?"

"Three years ago, this was the last place I saw my friend Brad. We used to go here all the time. Usually when one of us was upset, and needed a cooldown. It's where we convinced Gina to bide her time at Kaplan. It's where..."

"You can tell me, dude," Judd said as I took another gulp.

The tumbleweed dislodged itself from its trap, and drifted slowly toward another storefront.

The sunset around us dissolved to the same time on-

Wednesday, March 5, 2008

"Good stuff, huh?"

"Oh, right," I told Brad, while Leon beside me gave a playful nudge to the shoulder.

Gina, at my corner, still grumbled with discontent, but thawed a bit to see me awoken from my reverie.

"Just thinking about the future," I said. The decrepit old mall faded back in time to a more vibrant state, lined by fancy cars in freshly painted side lots, none of which were perma-parked with cinderblocks.

Even the tea I was nursing tasted better then, before the change in management, the process of blandification sinking its veins into this once local treasure, the place we finally convinced Gina-

"I know, you're all being super logical about it," she said, growling, "But that doesn't mean you can't let me feel like a failure for a while."

"It's not so bad, once you get used to it," I said, taking a sip.

"Little premature for that prognosis, Bro," Brad said.

"Hey look," Leon said. "That store over there, Marlin's - they're having a sale, I think."

"Oh yeah," I said, squinting at the sign in the window. "I heard they're going out of business. Maybe we can grab some new threads for our upcoming college adventure."

"Everyone but this guy," Gina said, jerking a thumb at Brad. "Mister Fancy South College guy."

"Yeah, about that," he said, taking a sip of his latte. "I think I'd rather be with you guys."

Leon ceremonially spat out a sip of water. "Uh, why?"

"I would save money this way," he said, "Not to mention get to hang with y'all a bit longer. And in your case Leon, get to know you a little better. It does my heart good to see my friend Derek's got himself someone."

Gina said, "But won't your parents be disappointed?"

He shrugged. "We're adults now. It's our decision."

"Because I swear to God, Brad, if you're just doing this for me..."

"That's not what I asked!" I said, gulping. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I love you and want to stay by your side, but I Don't want you sabotaging your future on account of this rescue call with Gina."

He laughed. "No, really. I've been considering it for a while. It's good to know somebody was crazy enough to accept me, but I can save and work up for a couple years while keeping our group together."

"No gripes here," Leon said.

"Now, I Don't mean to pry," Brad said, leaning forward, "But what am I looking at here? Don't tell me Derek's finally been able to release some of that, erm, carnal tension? 'Cuz I think you two make a cute couple."

"Oh, well," I said, rubbing my paws. "It's not really like that..."

"Still very hetero," Leon said, "And I Don't think that flexible."

"Oh," Brad said with visible deflation. "I thought it was... that you were boyfriends. It would be cute for us to go on a real double date."

"Maybe I shouldn't give off the impression," I said. "People will say stuff if I keep grabbing your butt."

"It's okay dude," Leon said. "You'll have lots of opportunities in college. I'll be going in a virgin myself, and I'm not rushing in just to lose it, you know?"

"So much for your harem, huh?" I said.

He smirked. "They'll manage."

"Damn it," Gina said, "Could you two at least kiss so I could get rid of this boner I'm raging?"

"Oh, well, I..." I said, blushing, before Leon leaned right over and planted one on my lips, doing it well, too. Brad clapped and whistled.

"Come on now, you sluts," Leon said. "Let's all go to Marlin's now, so we can find Derek some cheap yet stylish threads so he can suck all the cocks at Kaplan."

We got up, left a tip, and wandered over.

Thursday, February 3, 2011

"Was that your first kiss, Derek?" Judd asked me. In my reverie, he clasped his paws over mine, looking deep into me.

"Not exactly," I said, mentioning the first experiments on my bed, then a few times later when he offered to fool around, uniformly ending in a shroud of disappointment. I looked where the Marlin's used to be, now long since abandoned, the paint flaking and drying off, the sparkle of new development hazing back into the warm sunset of impending solipsism.

Judd said: "Did loving him as much as you did offer any solace to you? You seem fond of the memories, and yet in considering his person..."

I shrugged. "It doesn't matter now. I'm not going to see him again, and it wouldn't reverse any of the decisions I've made that led me here. I thought Clark might make a suitable replacement for the awkward hetero best friend, but with him already leaving, I've been doing more heavy regression to back then, when I had that lifeboat of stability."

"You have me," he said. "I'm not going anywhere."

"I hope that I'm not, either," I said.

"You'll find another job. It sounds like your hometown isn't that far from here. Even if you did have to move back in with the folks, I'd still want to be in your life. Even Clark and Brian won't just tell you 'have a nice life'. I know that change is rarely easy, but shutting yourself off to the world isn't good for you."

"I appreciate it, Judd. Thank you," I said. "I Don't know if it's just fear, but even this thing with Harvey tomorrow feels surreal. I've been out of the lifeboat for a while now, and it may be my last shot. I Don't know what I can do."

"Just try your best, even when it's impossible," Judd said. "Because sometimes, it turns out that it isn't."

The tumbleweed shifted back and blew outward, past the narrow side road into the grassy embankment leading up to the highway.

"I wonder if it'll ever get where it's going?" I said, nodding in its direction.

"It's lucky," Judd said. "It doesn't have to pretend to have a plan."

I smiled. "Thanks for taking the time to be with me."

"Just what I do best," Judd said.

The sun went behind the western mountains.

Friday, February 4, 2011 2:13pm

I hunched up on the twin bed scooted into the corner of my room. A small TV I scoured from Craigslist hung from a ramshackle DIY just above my computer desk, where it stood paused at one rather pretty scene from a science show. Below it sat Jet the Stuffed Panda in a dignified VIP position.

"See, this is the brushing motion you wanna use," Chris said, showing me the one he used, performing the motion on my tail. "Keeps it nice and bouncy."

"You sure have a lotta faith in Harvey's project."

"No. Just in you." He kissed me; I leaned into it and reached, squeezing his ass around the base of the tail, which swished about under the sheets.

We got the call from Harvey a few moments later. My phone broadcasted his message as we let it go to voicemail:

"Hey chaps, sending Hank over with the goods. Talk to you soon!"

"Think we have time?" Chris said, the square foil of a condom wrapper between his forefingers.

"With me? Probably. But I'd like to at least try taking my time."

"Fair point," he said, putting it back on the drawer. "I'll get ready, then."

We reluctantly emerged from our warm cocoon and started dressing ourselves, so that when I had everything gathered, we heard a knock at the apartment's front door.

I opened it to let Hank in, getting a view of our home.

"Welcome to the temporary abode of the unemployed," I said, introducing Hank to Chris.

They shook paws. "Harvey said you got his best side," Hank said.

"Okay Clark, we're off. Won't be too late," I called to the back where his door remained close, getting a faint mumble of approval in reply.

"Swanky wheels," Chris said as we came up to the longform Jag quasi-limo SUV perched outside, utterly incongruous with the rest of the lot.

"How the hell do you keep this thing afloat?" I asked.

"Twisted some arms over at the company regarding our severance package," Hank said. "Also, Harvey's dipping into some of his initial investment cashflow, so he's making some unwise decisions deliberately."

When we drove out of the ghetto and into the overmanicured yard where Harvey's property lay, I understood more what he meant.

Parking the limo, we walked past marble lion statues and obtuse golden bricks. At the front door, Hank slid an ID card and lead us into Harvey's mansion.

"We're here, Harv," Hank called out. He let us through a foyer into a custom-built studio kitchen, draped with green screens and expensive camera equipment. "Think you can navigate the pillars, big guy?" Hank asked.

"I think I can figure it out," he said, climbing behind one. "I think..."

"Oh. Hi."

He turned around to find Jin Li situated behind another, carrying a handful of the prop ingredients for Harvey, sitting them down on the immaculate countertop.

"Hey Jin," I said. "Glad you could make it."

"Didn't have much of a choice," he said.

"Welcome to the club," Chris offered.

"Yeah," Jin said, leaning against the counter. "I've never had a job description be simply 'keep things running smoothly'."

"It should be fine if we keep it professional," Chris said.

Harvey emerged from a back door, his feathered fluffed up and steamy from a recent bath. "Derek! It's good to have you," he said, bowing.

Hank said, "Here's the full crew for you, huh?"

"Lean and efficient, my dear," he said. "Shall we get started?"

Monday, February 14, 2011 10:29pm

The shot was grueling and overlong, but we powered through the scripts he'd prepared. By the weekend's end, we had enough material for a conventional-length season of a semi-respectable internet show. I was getting the ropes of the editing software, learning as I went along and trimming out the segments - at least our host knew the monetary value of time.

And in support of all our efforts, when the season finished, Harvey invited us over to a wrap party, where he promised to personally hand us our paychecks.

"Have fun, you guys," Clark said as he dropped us off. "I'll be around, doing some errands."

"Thanks," Hank said. "Here's the spare key in case I'm not there."

I'd mentioned Irish coffee earlier in the week, and to my surprise upon arriving, found a whole coffer of creamer and cold brew waiting for me on a table lined with jarringly cheap plastic liners.

"Hope you like it," Harvey said to me after we'd had a few, sliding me the envelope with my pay in it. He'd insisted on doing it individually, and the others were scattered in various states of intoxication, seeing all the entertainments he'd primed around the old mansion. "I couldn't have done this without you guys."

"Thanks for the opportunity, Harvey," I said, opening the envelope and trying to make out what was inside.

"Oh, the light's pretty bad in here," Harvey said, squinting. "If you wanna review it, I can take you to the main kitchen - not the set, the place I actually prepare the finished goods. Come on," he said, leading me through a few halls and into the trappings of an assembly line restaurant kitchen. It was indeed much brighter in there, so even in my slightly buzzed state I could make out the figure on the check just fine - at which point I near fell over.

"Am I hallucinating?" I asked. "I mean, I am _not_complaining. Harvey, this is enough to..."

The vulture smiled. "I Don't want you to lose your place, Derek."

"Not only that, but for a while to come. Holy crap," I said. "I shouldn't say any more, except that I'm beyond thankful." I leaned against a countertop, specially laid out with a big wine bottle and five glasses.

"And hey, you'll be receiving a cut of the royalties when it comes out on the internet. Gotta get that pre-release hype train a-rollin', you know?"

I thought about how if Chris got even a similar amount, we could maybe... I imagined us being together in that room. We could even keep Clark with us.

I pocketed the check and became lost in my daydream, when Harvey asked me, "Everything okay, Derek?"

"Oh, sorry," I said. "Just lost in the moment, is all. Maybe a little tired."

"You've worked so hard for me. All of you have. It's the least I can do to return the favor."

"Well, it's a great way to reduce employee turnover," I said with a laugh.

"That's good," Harvey said, taking a step closer. "That, and well, a little bit of the Dionysian juices never hurt anybody."

"Well, I Don't know about that," I said.

"Fair enough - but there's also team-building stuff, you know?"

"I Don't follow."

"Here's an example," he said, leaning forward and planting a wet kiss on me, all the odder through the razor-sharp beak on his face.

I stumbled back a tad. "Oh, wow, Harvey. That was..."

"Want more of it?"

"I just feel weird about kissing other guys."

He crossed his arms and frowned. "What, you've turned straight now?"

"No, I've just been with Chris for a while now, and it feels official, now, you know?"

"Have you said as much?"

"I mean, I Don't know... we'll know when the time is right."

"Derek, you and I Don't have forever to screw around."

"Where's this coming from anyway?" I asked.

He placed his hands on my shoulders and whispered in my ear: "Do you think I enjoy being the celibate celebrity, Derek?"

"Have you asked Hank?"

"I know what I want," Harvey said, then rammed his head forward and planted another deep one on my face. "Sound good?" he asked.

"No," I said, pushing him away.

"Excuse me?"

"No, Harvey."

"Have you forgotten who I am? Do you know how many people would jump at this chance?"

"That's great for them. I'm not one of them. I want to be with Chris, because he understands my boundaries and insecurities, and respects me. We've been working up to..."

"Oh, for god's sake, rip the bandage off already!" Harvey said, gripping my arms harder. "You know you want it, so just grab it, already!"

"This is what the damned bonus was for, huh?" I said. "Don't you think that's just a little bit gross? Not the least because I'm half your age?"

"Don't you dare insult me," Harvey said.

"What, with an objective fact? Here's another. Take your hands off me now or I'll..."

"Yeah? Think you've got some leverage here?"

"Fine," I said, "Let me get my shirt off."

"See how easy it is?" Harvey said, raising his hands up. "I knew you couldn't..."

I shoved him to the ground, sending him sprawling. He looked up at me with distilled hatred, trying to steady himself.

"Ungrateful bastard," he said, wiping his beak.

"Touch me again," I said, "Find out what happens."

He seethed in hatred as I stood there for a minute, but faltered just enough. I walked past him, to the main part of the house to find the others. I pulled out my phone and drunkenly stumbled through the contacts, shooting off a text.

"Chris!" I shouted out, walking toward the stairs as it sent.

"Up here, buddy," he said.

"We need to go," I said. "Grab Jin, grab Hank."

"What's wrong man? We Don't have a car, and the Jag isn't..."

"Please, Chris. We need to go right this second," I said.

"Okay dude," he said, emerging from a room. "But I Don't know where they went..."

We searched a few of the other rooms, gathered them and headed downstairs, where Harvey stood in front of the main entrance.

"Something come up?" he asked. "Where are we all going?"

The front door opened behind him. A two-meter Orca stood behind him, crossing his arms as Harvey turned around.

"Well then. There's our little rapist, right there."

"You can't..." Harvey began as Clark charged up, grabbed him by the throat, and threw him across his own front room, where he went colliding with a tacky ceremonial fountain.

"What the hell?"

"Got your text," Clark said.

"Did he hurt you?" Chris demanded.

"Nearly," I said.

We ran outside to the Honda and crammed ourselves in, Jin, Chris and myself in back, Hank and Clark in front. He gunned the motor and burned out, away from the lot.

I told them what happened, and Hank's face fell.

"Oh, no."

"Did you have some sort of _indication_this would happen?" Chris said, baring his fangs while holding my hand protectively.

"He made... advances before," Hank said. "But nothing like..."

"The same thing that happened with JoAnn," Jin Li said. "Didn't it, Hank?"

"Excuse me?" Clark said, bringing the car to a halt.

"We settled that one out of court! She had no right to..."

"Get the fuck out of my car."

"But I..."

He sat bewildered, then got out of the car, barely closing the door before Clark roared off and we left him stranded a couple miles from the mansion.

"Jin, do you remember how to get to JoAnn's apartment?"

He nodded. "I'll take you there now."

The Honda screamed through the night.

Epilogue

Tuesday, December 25, 2012

8:00pm

Our server brought a big tray over for everyone, full of items attempting to max out the cheapness to carbs ratio. For a low-grade steakhouse in the last remaining vibrant shopping center in town, Animal Tavern was still good to come to every now and then for special occasions.

From my left, and circling back to me: Chris, Clark, Gina, Brian, Judd, Jin, JoAnn, and on my right, Brad.

"Nice to see you haven't changed at all," Gina told Brad as the server finished putting a plate of mac n' cheese in front of him, and walked away.

"Dude, I'm all gradumacated now, which makes me a super-adult."

"All that, and you made time for us," I said.

"It's not every day you're back in town," Brad said.

"Did you get some windfall in the settlement yet?" Jin asked.

"Yeah, y'all are so secretive," JoAnn added.

"I still end up in a cold raging sweat when I think of it," Gina said.

"It could have been a lot worse," I said.

"In retrospect," JoAnn said, "I shouldn't have done roaches. I should've done something more fitting - like fire ants."

"At least the evidence was corroborated by independent witnesses," Clark said. "I know he won't be charged with anything, but the ostracism's done its job. He'll never work again. I only wish it could have ended with a real settlement in your favor, Derek."

"Believe me," I said, "There's nothing I'd love more than to lift all of us out of where we are.

"It's not so bad," Jin said.

"No, it could be much worse," I said. "With the boost from that 'paycheck,' we at least could move somewhere cheaper with an actual job base."

"Frankly, I'm glad we could shut down Magic Palms," Brian said. "No more Brick the Prick."

"How are you two holding up?" Judd asked.

"Week by week," I said.

"We're thinking of coming up there too," Jin said, holding Judd's hand.

"You'll love it," I said. "It's pretty as heck. Much less crowded, too. Makes getting your license that much less stressful."

"Congrats!" Brad said.

"How about you?" I asked Clark.

"It's our place in full now since Mother ended up retiring to Florida," Gina said, answering for him. "You're staying with us soon, right?"

"I'm cool if you are, hon," Chris told me.

"I'm down," I said. "It'll be weird returning to that twin bed, though."

"Oh, I'm sure we'll manage," Chris said. "It'll be like camping, without any of the irritating portions."

"Just promise me you're still on track for the Northwest Uni campus," Gina said, looking over her glass.

"Don't worry, I'll get to it," I told her.

"Derek."

"He'll take his time and get to it as he sees fit," Brad said. "Nothing wrong with that."

"Why am I still talking to you?" Gina said.

"Cuz you love me," Brad said.

Clark rolled his eyes. "In all seriousness... are you doing okay?"

"Yeah, man," I said. "And I'd like to direct it to everybody. I didn't just want this to be about an oh-crap-iversary. I want to be sure we're all moving forward, and doing it slow is just fine."

"You know it, dude," Chris said, leaning down for a kiss. "Is this okay?"

"Of course," I told him. Only Brad rolled his eyes, but smiled while doing so. Gina and Clark, and Jin and Judd followed suit.

"Too bad my wife is working late," Brian said.

"Yes, the one you met at a gay bar. How tantalizing!" Judd said.

"Hey, I oughta thank you for introducing us."

"I'm glad you were able to stay in the country, JoAnn," Jin said.

"Yay for witness testimony," she said. "Although yes, I agree. I'm... sorry that I wasn't warmer with you guys earlier."

"I wouldn't be happy either if, well..." Brad said.

"Well hey, tonight isn't about that," JoAnn said, "Right?"

"It's about whatever you want," I said, "But yeah, no, not that."

"Very well then," Chris said, raising a glass. "Congrats to us for surviving another year."

We toasted.