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Chip ran his mouth when he was drunk, and that's really where all this started.

But I'll come to that.

* * * * *

"Is he sober?"

I pretended not to hear her.

She nudged me in the pads with her toes.

I dollied out from under the Roadrocket and wiped my paws on my rag. "Morning, Luanne."

"Is he sober, Mango."

Shrugged. "Sober enough."

She gave me that face. "Sober enough to take Deke and Priss this weekend," she said more than asked.

I nodded, sitting up. "Yeah. He's fine."

"You sure? 'Cause I've still got time to make other arrangements."

"I'm sure. Why you comin' 'round asking?"

"Heard something, made me wonder."

"Heard what?"

"Nothin'. Just something."

"Right."

I got to my feet and raised the brim of my cap to look at her better. Pretty little vixen touched with cat. Pale yellow and orange. Eyes like two blue marbles. She was 30-some now but still looked good in a tummy-tied shirt and cut-off jeans. Her hay-blond mane had been much brighter once, but it still danced around her face in the breeze with all the life it had ever had. Vince was good for her in a way Ryan couldn't be. Or anyone else in our family.

"Lou, you know even if things are bad with Ry, I'm always here to look after 'em whenever you and Vance need a little time."

"I don't want to presume. I know you got a grown-up life, too," she said.

"Not so much lately. Don't worry about it. Family always comes first."

She took a deep breath. "You know, I sometimes think you're the reason I stuck it out with Ryan for so long."

"Be careful how you say that."

"What difference does it make now?"

"He's still my brother."

She nodded softly. Looked away up the hot, dusty street. Paved, but so long ago and so feebly that you might not guess it. Flowers growing up out of the gutters, waving their little heads in the breeze. "So I'll be back with them around 6, okay? After supper."

"Sure. We'll be ready."

"Thanks, Mango. For being there for us." She glanced into the dark space back of the garage. "For him."

"Told you. Family. No thanks required."

She stood on her toes and kissed my cheek. That much was still allowed.

"Go'wan, get," I said. My accent was still noticeably northern, even after near a dozen years down here, but not like it used to be. Fell somewhere in the middle. Just enough to put anyone guessing off their game. I liked it that way.

"What do you make of that?" I asked Toxic once Luanne was out of earshot.

He screwed up his face. Squinted at her back. "You know what she's like. Half the reason he drank was because she was the way she was," he said.

I nodded. "Maybe not half, but it didn't help."

"Likely she's heard about Mitch selling off half the squad cars this fall. Wonders how he's taking it."

"Mmm," I said, my eyes on her figure as it shrunk on its way along West Pine Street.

Tox smiled. "You still--"

"Shut up."

He laughed. "Sorry. Y'ain't got no secrets from me."

"Long as they stay secrets."

"Who'm I gonna tell?"

"Nobody, if you know what's good for you."

"You wanna wrassle, scrawny?"

I looked over at Junior Carrotcutter's Roadrocket. "Wanna get back to work."

"No, you don't."

"No. But we're gonna. C'mon."

So he slid under the car with me. "She's right, you know. What difference would it make now?"

"I gotta tell you this too? He's my brother."

"A pleasant fiction," Tox grunted.

I gave him a look. "That's kind of my point. I don't want him ever looking at little Priscilla and wondering who her daddy is or isn't. And I don't never want her to wonder, either. Wondering who your father is ain't no way to live your life, that's for damn sure," I said, snarling it at the exhaust pipe instead of at him.

"Never bothered me none," Tox breezed.

I let it ride. Wasn't interested in taking it any further. Tox could read my mood by instinct and he knew when to sound off and when to shut up. This was shut up time.

He had a point, though. Life was like that down in Oxbows. Half the cubs in Rockfern were square pegs who didn't match 'Daddy's' round hole, much less shoot out of it. But since pretty much every 'Daddy' in town had square pegs of his own, most guys figured it all evened out. Most folks in the county were some type of fox-mix or another, so cuckoo's eggs didn't amount to much. Oh, there were some teeth lost here and there and a few guys got their snouts pushed in getting caught from time to time. But in general, as long as everyone kept their traps shut and maintained the official story, life went on and everyone enjoyed slippin' sideways when they could get away with it. Variety's the spice of life, after all. Especially in a nothing-ever-changes globe slice like Rockfern.

We got a fair amount of work squared away. I could feel the sun getting hotter on my toes and that was telling me noon was riding high. Figured it was time to break off for lunch.

I found Ryan out back, sober as a judge, mask over his muzzle as he worked on air brushing the big tittie vixen onto Chip Snowshiver's shitty old van. Ryan was always at his best when he had a project.

"Lay it on thick," I told him. "It's about the only thing holding that pile of magnet dust together."

He raised his goggles up onto his blond mane and hooked into me with them egg yolk yellow eyes. "You done with Junior's car?"

"Done as I'm gonna be, unless he wants to pay for real repairs and not wadded gum."

"I didn't ask you for an editorial."

"Then yeah, I'm done."

"Give him a call."

"Already did."

"And?"

"Be here after work."

"Then get some lunch."

"You first."

He looked like he was gonna get into it with me, but he glanced at the big tittie vixen and dropped the airbrush. Pulled off his mask. "Yeah, you're right. Let's go to Melba's," he said. And so we did.

"Luanne was by."

He glared at me as we went along. "Yeah?" By which he meant,How come you didn't send her around back?

But he didn't ask that, so I didn't answer it. "Yeah," I said. "She's gonna be by with Deke and Priss long about 6."

"Oh, is it _my_weekend again?" he grumbled. He knew it was. But acting enthusiastic about having the cubs by might give someone the impression he gave a shit. And we couldn't have that.

So all I said was, "Apparently."

"Shit," he said, and then he took it out on the sun, glaring back at it. "Goddamn, why didn't you remind me to wear a hat?" he said, and tried snatching at mine.

I successfully fended him off. "Do I look like your mama?"

"No. I look more like yours," he rumbled. Well, he had a point there. He patted the sweat dampening the fur of his brow.

The sun down here in Oxbows is completely different from the one I remember as a cub up in Oriensa. That one was calm, sensible, moderate. It came up, did its thing, warmed the place up a little like a tea cozy, and then went away. I'd almost swear the one down here isn't the same one at all. The sun in Oxbows is fierce, intense, and staring at your neck and back all the time like a chain gang bull. And even when it's fled the sky, it's like it's still lurking around just back of the trees and the hills, pouring it on like it's never going to let you breathe. It's like two brothers you can't believe come from the same family at all.

It was as fearsome as ever as we padded up West Pine to Melba's. She should have been able to charge us just for stepping inside, into the cool, the shade of her little restaurant. Put it right on the bill. And we'd have surely paid her. Luckily she was too good for that, even if it ever occurred to her. Especially if it did.

"What'll it be, Fishkettles?" she called, slinging a coffee pot as she wiped down a table with the other paw. We dropped right in where others had just been.

"Steak and sweet potato fries," Ryan said.

"Like I needed to ask." She looked at me. "Ribs and mash?"

"No," I said, leaning back. "I have just decided that I don't ever want to be predictable."

"Good for you. What, then?"

"Dust off the menu and bring it."

"Ooo, you've learned to read? Well, don't you worry none, darlin', it's got pictures."

"Ahh, I see a big tip in your future," I said.

"I see 'special sauce' in yours," she winked, pursing her lips to spit. But she did come back with a menu and left me with it. Truth be told, I hadn't bothered with one in months. It was plastic coated. Had two sides. One side was eggs, eggs, eggs, and eggs, and anything that came with eggs. And the other side wasn't. I looked at the 'wasn't' side.

I made my call and set it down. When I looked up at Ryan, he was eyeing Russ Todhiller and Marty Wisepack. Five percent of the county cops right there at one table. One cop car. About fifteen hundred a year in maintenance to us, and now a few months away from going up in smoke.

"You thought about what I said?" I said, tapping his arm.

"Course. You thought about putting all your chops under your pillow for the Fang Fairy?"

"They'll give us a loan. Someone will."

"Right. For a machine that's worth nearly what the whole garage is?"

"That's an exaggeration."

"Not much."

"Ryan, you're a war hero. Everybody knows it."

"That's worth a beer on Federation Day and a free blowjob at Dusky Hollows's on Forces Day. Doesn't mean squat when it comes to money. Not eighty grand," he grumbled.

"You haven't even tried."

"I won't trade on pity, Nicky."

"Right, you'd rather we go out of business. I forgot."

"So, you make up your mind, Mango?" Melba interjected.

"The fish and chips, I reckon."

"Aww, you liked the picture."

"Now that they're all scratch-and-sniff. That was intentional, right?"

She tsked. "The mouth on you today..."

"Is hungry."

"Comin' right up, Your Majesty," she grinned, plucked the menu, and ducked into the kitchen.

Ryan wasn't looking at me when he mumbled. "Me. I go out of business. Don't remember your name being on the mortgage."

It was always his trump card. I wasn't his partner. I worked for him. Kid brother. Nephew, if he really wanted to get nasty. Sister's bastard. If he could have found a way to make our relationship even more distant at times like that, he'd have used it. It had long ago scabbed over, him saying stuff like that. But it never really healed. I wanted to tell him that talking like that, acting like that, was what had lost him Luanne. And Alice before that. But I was trying to get him on my side here, not drive in a wedge that was apt to put him on a bender. Shit, the kits were gonna be here in six hours.

"You're right, you're right," I said, without trying to sound snotty. "It is your business. That was outta line."

"I shouldn't have said it." His tail shimmied around like a stunned cobra.

"You worked hard and you earned it. I didn't mean to say otherwise. But I am along for the ride, and I'm just trying to help make it smoother."

"Mango, there just isn't enough give. Two mortgages on the garage as it is. I know eighty grand don't sound like much, but even vultures can't eat the bones. There's no more meat on the carcass to pull off if we go under. Nobody's interested. Believe me."

I looked over at Russ and Marty again, settling up and heading back out to bag speeders on Hwy 29. Driving an old bucket of bolts that kept Ryan in business and me hanging on. Come October, they'd be driving a hot new Overlands Tachyon. Solid state, brick shithouse on wheels. And definitely out of our league, unless we could come up with the Gaptronics Diagnotron T-111 it takes to service something like that. That just might keep us in business. But we needed a bridge to get there from here, and that was the problem. That, we just didn't have. I watched Ryan look at their backs like his future was tin cans tied to their tails, going out the door. Mitch Fleetpacer was the sheriff, and he liked us, but without the equipment to tend to his new cruisers, well, his paws were tied.

Ry didn't need to read my mind to know just what I was thinking. "It's gonna be tight, Mango. Tough winter. I dunno. Maybe we'll find a way. Maybe Alice and Luanne'll let me skimp a little on support payments, or..."

That was foolish. That wouldn't have brought us a tenth of the way there, even if he skipped all winter. But I just nodded. He was headed for the rapids with no paddle. Let him pretend his floss was a rope.

Melba came around with our orders and set them down nice and gentle in front of us. "'Preciate it if you' d put a shirt on next time," she scolded, eyeing my bare chest.

"Give me yours," I said. "Make everybody happy." That got a nice big lascivious chuckle out of Ryan, and that made it all worthwhile.

"Just... put on a shirt, okay?"

I took out a twenty and snapped it. "Here's my shirt. Johann Schwarzepfoten's wearin' it. That good enough?"

She padded off.

I snorted. Put a shirt on. Might put a shirt on. Might not. It's one of the things I like about Oxbows. Back when I was a kid in Oriensa, I can remember snow from time to time. It got cold enough that you would see it sometimes. Always fun to walk in. I loved melting it with my feet. Never lasted very long but it was always a nice change. Never see anything like that in the great state of Oxbows. The winters here just get dull and grey. But they never really get that cold. Even at its worst, I could put a shirt on and I could not put a shirt on. Mostly I didn't. I liked having that choice.

Ryan didn't eat with much gusto. But at least he hadn't ordered a beer. That was usually the sign of a bad weekend coming up. But most of the time, if he had Deke and Priss coming over, he managed to keep a handle on it. Most of the time.

We didn't talk much over lunch. Both of us were in a brooding mood and he'd said his piece and I'd said mine. We'd rehash it all over again soon enough. But it was done for now.

We paid up and headed back, the sun still waiting in ambush.

"What are you gonna do now?" he said. Kind of an open-ended question, so I took the safest tack I could.

"Figure I'll just go and ride ol' Junior's car on back to him and save him the trip," I said.

"Neighbourly. Customers like that," Ryan mumbled. "Alright, I'll see you later."

"Stay outta trouble."

He grumbled something. Disappeared around back.

I went and got Junior's keys and I headed off with Tox riding shotgun. We didn't go to Junior's straight away, though. Figured we'd enjoy his wheels for a while and so headed out to Barkwell. Forty-five minutes away; Junior's ride did it twenty-five. They got a baking supply store in Barkwell that suited my needs. Set of rum extracts there, among other flavourings. Pretty expensive, but you needed something credible for my purposes.

I crouched to peruse the offerings and Tox waved a finger at a bottle. "Why'oncha get the good stuff this time."

Wallaggin's was top notch, but it was twenty dollars for a little bottle. "Crysta, I might as well just buy real rum."

"Except real rum'll get him loading the cannons. Least you can do is give the poor bastard some decent flavour."

"Sugar Hopper's about half that price, and it's nearly as good." Most of the time I talked myself out of Wallaggin's and went with Sugar Hopper. Figured the difference paid for the gas.

"You cheap little bitch. Here, I'll pay the difference."

"Now that I'd like to see," I muttered. I picked up the Sugar Hopper and headed to the cash.

Ryan's favourite stone was Fairport Navy Rum. I picked up a bottle on the way out of Barkwell. We must have had a dozen bottles empty or near around the garage. A little of the genuine article went a long way when it was stretched out with distilled water and a couple spoonfuls of Sugar Hopper. I'd been doing my damnedest to keep Ryan to half-strength rum or weaker for three or four years now, and so far, he hadn't cottoned on. It made life a damn sight calmer. Yeah, he still bought his own, but most of the time he just passed out in his chair and I could get to work on whatever he had left. It'd become one of my little missions, I guess.

I parked Junior's car out front of his house and called him to let him know. Stuck the keys in the mailbox. Had enough Toxic by then so I waved him off for the day and padded on back to the garage. By that time it was closing in on four. Ryan had the official apartment up over the garage. I loped 'round to the side to mine, a kind of add-on we built around the time I moved down to live under Ryan's roof. It was nice having a little roof of my own. And, to tell the truth, it made things a little easier when things were coming apart for Ryan and Luanne and she started turning to me for a shoulder to cry on, and then something more. Odds are, that's where Priss got her start, down there beside the garage in the cool dark we filled with heat.

I never take alma. Never have, never will. When I spray a womb, it's for real. What kind of fool plows a field all spring just to sprinkle it with rocks? There's enough working against a harvest. I believe in crops that look like me. Yanking some soul out of the Between Lives with the thunderclap of my orgasm and firing them down the barrel of my cock; injecting them into their mamas and a whole new life. That's one of the biggest kicks there is. To me, anyway. I had two that I knew for sure were mine and acknowledged. Five more I was pretty sure were mine, like Priss, who had official daddies. Another dozen beside I'd lay even odds to. So, chances are, somewhere around a dozen, at the time. Not a bad legacy.

Jewel was naked when I got home. She almost always was. Knew I liked it that way. Grey pelt, black mane, them tranquil deep sea eyes. Slinky kitty; big ol' grapefruit tits. She moved like a breeze in a glade, meandering around, but soft and refreshing once she finally got to you. I plunked down in my chair. Raised my mouth and she leaned down to it and kissed me as she sauntered by.

"You been arguing with Ryan again. I can tell."

"What's next, sugar pie? 'The sun came up this morning'?"

She leaned back on my shitty old TV set and crossed her ankles, wiggling her toes. Tail snaking like I was something she was hunting. "It was about money again, wasn't it?"

"It's always about money."

"No," she said, brushing her mane from her face. "Not always. Sometimes it's about the booze. Sometimes it's about them kits. Sometimes it's about who your fath--"

"Can we not talk about this? This ain't what I come home to you for."

She smiled. "You don't respect me."

"Should I?"

"I heard tell," she said, rubbing my shoulders, "that you're supposed to love me as you love yourself."

"I do. I do _exactly_that," I sighed, closing my eyes.

"Hmm. Then you must not like yourself very much."

"I like myself just fine. Don't you?"

"I'm here, ain't I?"

"That's hardly _your_doin'."

She smiled. Reached down and pushed my waistband under my balls. Took firm hold of me. "The one thing you know for sure," she purred, "is that you'll never lose me."

I smiled. Wagged. "Yeah." Pushed my fatigues down to my ankles. Kicked them off. "No matter how much I get on the side, you'll never leave me, will you?"

She settled in beside me. "Mm-mm," she confirmed. "Hell, I'm_glad_ for you when you find some female companionship. I ain't jealous. I know I'll never lose you. I know you'll never get tired of me."

"That's a fact," I nodded, rubbing her back. "That is a fact..."

And then that mouth. That so familiar mouth, sliding down my cock.