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I woke up to the pawPad ringing. Fumbled it to my ear, noticing it was Luanne's number along the way. "Howdy, Lou."

"Mango, shit, I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm held up at the feed store. Could you possibly do me a solid and pick up the cubs at the daycare?"

"Oh, sure, yeah, not a problem. I'll just bring 'em straight on over to Ry."

"You are the best, Mango." Then she whispered, playful-like, "Shoulda married you."

"You know I'm no good deep down," I smiled. "Meet, cheat, and repeat; that's my motto."

"Yeah, you're so different from every other man in Oxbows," she growled. "Joking aside, thanks, hon."

"Alright, you take care, now. See you on Sunday. Say hi to Vince for me."

"Will do, darlin'. And thanks again."

So, I washed up a little and hauled my fatigues back on and set off.

When I got to the daycare, I found Deke out front, tossing a ball around with some other cubs. Called out to him. "Hi, Deke!"

He looked up, saw me and wagged. "Heya, Uncle Nicky!" He chucked the ball to one of his friends and came charging up, great big ears and tabby stripes on a little toddy face.

I tousled his mane and looked around. "Well, where's your sister at?"

"She went over to play at Belle Sandbank's house."

"Son of a bitch," I sighed, which was a funny thing for a guy looking mostly collie-were to say, but maybe that gives me the right. I dunno. But it made Deke break out into one of those sparkle-eyed, shocked-but-delighted smiles only little cubs his age can muster, and that made me laugh. "C'monnnn, let's go get your sister."

Billy Sandbanks used to live in a shit shack back in the woods at the edge of town where he and his kin belonged. That all changed a couple years before. The place me and Deke padded up to now wasn't no palace, but it was a decent family dwelling, and on Hartford Street, too. Nobody knew where he got the money, but everyone knew where he got the money, if you know what I mean.

Still, true to form, he'd taken a pretty lawn lined with flowers and planted it instead with a sprinkling of shitty old cars and trucks in various states of disrepair. You can take a hick outta the sticks, but... And there was Priss, chase-tailing around with Belle Sandbanks between rusty relics like pups in a graveyard.

"Priss, honey, time to go!" I called from up the street. I didn't see the need to get any closer to the place than shouting required. "Priss?"

Deke took to his heels and went dashing up. I thought he'd bring Priss back, and it looked like he was trying to persuade her, but the next thing I knew, the little idiot was loading the girls into some heap that hadn't moved on its own since before he was sperm and pretending to drive it. I clapped a paw to my face and squeezed my eyes closer together before giving in to the inevitable and trotting the rest of the way.

"Deke, Priss, c'mon. Your daddy's waiting."

"Is he?" came a voice from around the side of the house. I looked over, and here comes Billy Sandbanks. Just the last thing I wanted. He had this big shit-eating grin on his face as he loped on up, cleaning something off his paws with an old towel. "You heard him, cubs. Don't keep Daddy waiting."

I didn't like his tone. It wasn't an innocent one.

"C'mon, cubs. Mr. Sandbanks's got better things to do than keep your tails out of slammin' car doors."

"No, no, that's fine. You have that kind of time when you work for yourself," Billy told me.

Priss got this look like she'd just opened a box with all the secrets of the universe in it. "Uncle Nicky! You should work for Mr. Sandbanks!"

"I'd rather roll with a pig in shit," was the thing I didn't say to Priss or her little friend's father. But if I had, I never would have spoken truer words in my life. "Oh, nah, I like workin' at the garage," I told her with a wag and a smile.

"I tried to give your daddy a job once," Billy said, hoisting Belle up onto his shoulder.

"My daddy?" Priss frowned, one ear back.

"Oh, sorry, honey, I meant your uncle. Your Uncle Nicky here. My, you look just like him, don't you?"

Priss giggled. "I guess so."

Priss, at 5, might have missed the inference, but not her 7-year-old brother. I caught Deke taking an appraising glance at his sister and then at me. I gave him a subtle don't-be-stupid look.

I turned back to Billy. "I didn't think I'd be a good fit for that job," I said, wagging a little.

"Nah. Probably not," Billy nodded. "In retrospect, it was probably more than you coulda took on."

I didn't watch my mouth. I should have. If it had been just me, or maybe even little Priss, I might have let it slide. But he was sucking the beach out from under my feet in front of Deke here. So I bristled and shot from the lip. "Oh, I'm pretty sure I coulda handled it. Just didn't wanta. Even a mechanic likes the dirt to wash off t'end of the day."

Billy jerked Belle, who'd been slipping down, back up on his shoulder. "That a fact," he said, eyes black.

"No offense," I breezed. Which only cut a little deeper.

"Daddy, you're not dirty," Belle said.

He smiled and turned to her. "That's right, honey pie. And your daddy can get you anything you want." He turned his loving smile for her on me, where it frosted over and froze on his face.

"Your daddy does really well," I told the little vix in his arms, trying to smooth things over. "You're a lucky girl."

I hoped I'd see some sign of surprise and conciliation in Billy's eyes, but I should have known better. He might have been a couple years shy of 30, but he was still the same pitiless thug who liked to mop floors with manes and blood that he was back in high school. I saw nothing shining back to me but contempt.

"C'mon, then. Let's get going. Priss, say good-bye to Belle and Mr. Sandbanks."

"Bye, Priss! See you Monday! Bye, Mr. Sandbanks!"

"Bye-bye, sweetie pie."

And that was that. Or so I thought.

There were times it seemed like Ryan became a whole other person, and more often than not, it was when he saw Deke and Priss after a week or two. He'd hug them. He'd kiss them. He'd roll around on the floor with them like Anarthu with his first pups.

When he rocked Priss back and forth in his arms, I had a lump in my throat. It was moments like this when I remembered why I loved Ryan. When he was sober, and when you were someone that mattered, you knew it. I remembered how he'd treated me when I'd shown up on his door, all of 15 years old and figuring I knew everything and was ready for life. He sheltered me and fed me and kept me busy till I was. Till I knew I didn't know everything. Till I knew I was going to be a man like him. More or less.

It made me sad to realize that was the real Ryan all along, deep down. It took them to reach him. He couldn't come out of that shell without their sunshine to coax him. But I knew that as they grew older and more worldly there'd be less and less of that, until it ceased altogether. That's the way of the world. It shouldn't be. But it is. And when that happened, the real Ryan would be locked away forever, never to be seen again. So I cherished it while it lasted for his sake.

I was standing in the doorway of his kitchen, warming up some stew while the two of them told him tall tales of their adventures all week; me basking in the reflected glow of Ryan's family, however fractured for the past three years, and indulging myself in just a nibble or two of jealousy. It was around that time that Priss was catching him up on her afternoon with Belle that she tripped a mine without even knowing it.

"And Daddy, Mr. Sandbanks said I looked just like Uncle Nicky!" Priss squealed, giggling into her paws.

Ryan looked at her and then at me, involuntarily, just like his son had, and I felt a stab of fear in my heart. But I played it cool. "He was just tryin' to make trouble," I said, dismissing the notion with a toss of my paw. "He's 110% cun-n-n-nnning guy," I said, barely catching myself in front of pricked little ears. Deke snorted a laugh. He was the only one.

But there was nothing I could do. It was said. And by Priss herself, no less. If Ryan ever knew, if he ever suspected or even thought about it, I don't know. But hearing it from her must have been like a blade in the gut. He started brooding that evening, so I decided it was best if I cleared out and just left him to spend his time with them.

I figured on heading over to Throat Velvet for a few. I'm not the one with the automatic elbow, after all; I can take it or leave it. There were two little mistakes in my plan. One was my timing. The other was that I decided to be all responsible-like and walk. I realized these choices had conspired against me when I turned the corner onto Elmtrestle by the hardware store.

"Hey, it's Mangy."

"How you doin', Mangy?"

Greg Sandbanks and Shark Pinesummit. I'd walked straight into them. They were loading canisters of propane into the back of Billy's flashy black Mountaineer 950. Japheth, I could have put my bed in the back, installed a shower, and moved in. Them boys sure didn't have our money problems. Who knew runnin' shine paid_that_good?

Billy tapped his brother's head and Greg looked up. There was a twinkle there that boded me no good. The loading stopped. Clearly, the Gods had no intention of letting me out of this fucker's line of fire anytime soon. "Nice to see you again, Nicky," Billy said. Sure it was. Now he had the chance to make me pay for that crack I'd made in front of his daughter.

I did my best to keep walking. "Howdy, Billy. Greg. Denny."

"Hold on up there a minute," Billy said. I tried to think of an excuse not to but I knew that would have only made things worse. So I stopped. "You think you could lend us a paw, Mango? Be right neighbourly of you."

"Sure," I said, hoisting a container.

"Atta boy," Billy winked.

I peered into the truck bed and did a quick guestimation. Maybe two dozen tanks in there already. "Awful lot of propane," I said. But I said it with my eyes, and not my mouth. Still, I saw Greg and Shark stiffen.

"We're just, uh... fixin' to go huntin'," Billy said, tossing his boys a look. He was more amused than upset and they instantly relaxed. After all, who was I? Just another kid Billy used to put a beating on in high school, and still could, anytime he wanted.

Shark went back to handing Billy up tanks. "You don't hunt, do you, Fishkettle?" he smiled, all teeth, and every one of them finding its own direction in life.

"Oh, yeah, Denny, he does. Or did. Once." Billy turned to Greg. "Remember the time he came hunting with a bunch of us and he couldn't even shoot that deer? Big old alters the size of a lounger... shit, you coulda sat in them... and he almost let it get away."

Greg barked out a laugh. "He did let it get away! I'm the one shot it. Still hanging in my den."

"Didn't have a clear shot," I said, handing up another tank to Billy.

"Yeah... yeah, well, you never do with your eyes shut." Greg was laughing, tail thumping the air, gut bouncing.

"Well, I'm glad you got lucky," I told Greg. I wanted to say_And so did I, with your wife,_ but that would have been cheap. And not true. And would have landed me in the hospital. So, I swallowed my pride instead of my teeth.

"It wasn't luck. It was skill. And the guts to pull the trigger."

"I reckon," I said, eyeing his ponderous gut. He frowned.

Billy jerked his thumb at me, claw shot. "Oh, he pulls a trigger. Every few weekends. Then for a month a couple times a year."

"That a fact?" Shark said, throwing his chin up at me.

"It is," I said. And it was kind of true. The Firevenders don't actually do much shooting. But bridge demo and stump removal wasn't a boast that was gonna buff my claws with these guys.

Shark took a moment to reach for my dog tags and help himself to a skeptical look. "Oscar Nicholas Fishkettle, corporal, FG. 'Oscar'?" he spat, one of his eyebrows arching up to the observation deck of his forehead. Fresh little punk. Barely out of high school and hadn't done nothing with his life yet but jug shine, and he was going to give_me_ grief?

But the company he kept gave him latitude, so I watched my words. "My Uncle Oscar died in one of the Eastern Sea flare-ups," I said. "They named me for him. Always went by Nick, though."

Shark tossed the tags back into my chest fur. "Thought it was Mango."

"That works too."

"Yeah," Billy said, flatly, settling the last tank securely with the others. The truck was loaded now and Billy jumped down from the bed onto the softwalk.

"Well, I'll see you boys la--" I started.

But Billy reached out and blocked my way. Greg eased in a little to make sure I stayed put while his brother reached into his tit pocket for a pack and lit up. He wasn't quite finished with me just yet.

I kept an even keel. Didn't even let my ears fold back. Wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Or the provocation. I just let him say what he was bound to say.

"His brother fought in the Eastern Sea 'bout 20 years ago. Got captured. Went through hell. Still ain't quite right," Billy said, eyes fixed on mine the whole time. "And there you are, dancing around in them dog tags like you're a real soldier. You're an insult to that man. Weekend warrior, playing with all them other little boys in the Freelands Guard. You shoot holes in painted targets like you think that means something. Like that gives you the right to look a man like your brother in t'eye. Like that means," he said, coming right up onto me, "you could really kill a man."

I stared at him. Licked my nose. Looked away.

"Yeah," he sneered. Flipped my tags with his claw. He turned and stepped away. "But we least we know you got our back if the river floods. Bet you can lay down sandbags like a som'bitch."

I said nothing.

"Let's get goin'," Billy ordered, and Greg and Shark started moving for the cab, giggling like a couple of garbage men in drag.

"You have yourself a good day now, Mangy," Shark heckled, slapping the side of the truck, and it peeled away a layer of asphalt as they headed out of town.

This freed me up, at least, to resume my original trajectory to Throat Velvet. I had even more reason to go now, dragging an ego bruised and spilled all over the floor behind me.

I found myself sitting alone by the window. I dunno, maybe I was giving off that vibe. I think I was on my fourth beer before anyone who wasn't interested in taking my order approached me.

Chip Snowshiver sidled up, hoisting his beer to his snout. White fox-were. Real blue eyes, almost creepy. Married Beulah Twicepenny the spring before. Couple years behind me in high school. Chip took a shine to me when we were on the basketball team together. I didn't mind.

"Hey, Mango."

"Hey yourself, Chip."

Chip pulled out a chair and sat down. "Your brother's sure doing a righteous job on my van. Vixen looks hot."

"Thanks. He's proud of what he does."

"Saw it when I came looking for you."

"What'd you want with me?"

"You up to anything tomorrow?"

I shrugged. "Nothing I can't do Sunday." Took a slug from my bottle. "Why?"

"Wondered if you'd like to go fishing up Sidewinder Creek."

Now I looked him in the eye. He had that soft smile. "Who with?" I asked.

"Just you and me this time," he said. "'Less you wanna invite a couple-few others."

I scratched my chin like I had to think it over. Like most fellows, I'm not above the occasional 'fishing trip' with the boys. Don't get me wrong; pussy is great. It's the best. But there are things only another man understands about driving stick, and sometimes you just gotta reach out and grab that. You don't gotta talk about it afterwards and get all romantic. Just go with it. Take your turn, tell a few jokes, and go home. "Sure," I said.

"Great," he wagged. He looked over at Beulah, who was sitting alone at the other end of the bar as their supper was just arriving. He got to his feet. "Pick you up about 10?"

"Fine, fine."

"Say hi to Ryan for me."

"Will do."

Saturday dawned rainy but that never bothered me none. I mean, hell, you're standing around in the river as it is. The rain's just more river being born.

Chip was good as his word and he had me in his old beater by 10. You can get into Sidewinder Creek at a million places off the backroads, and long before 11 we were pulled up into a little hollow we'd been to a hundred times before. We toted what we needed down to the tall grass in the shade of the willows and set up camp.

Even though he was still freshly married, and all that that implies, Chip wasn't going to let it stop him from doing a little fishing now and then. We stripped off on the bank and helped ourselves down into the creek's throat whether she liked it or not. But I think she did. She always welcomed our feet with her slick, silty skin and rubbed our legs and balls with her soft, unending caress. Me and Chip cast a couple of lines for show, just so we could say with a clear eye that we had indeed done some fishing. At least for a bit.

Way before noon we were lying in the tall grass together ballnosing. And Chip was good at that. Almost as good as me. Almost as good as Jewel. There were worse ways to blow a Saturday than going fishing with Chip. Pardon the pun there. Yeah, there was no reaching into Purgatory for unborn souls to shoot down the barrel of your cock on these outings. They were pure Heaven-skulking and on back down again. Couple of old buddies chucking snowballs to each other. And what's wrong with that?

We wore each other out good. Lounged for a bit. Swam around a little. Napped. Woke up, made a little supper, and settled back into the shine he brought.

We were drunk. But if I was feeling no pain, then Goddess 'pon all fours, Chip was positively cloud-swimming. I was tail-bangin' him when he got going. Completely lost all composure, squealing like a girl in her first heat and begging me in deeper. I was almost embarrassed for him. It's one thing to be a sport and take your turn, but coming across like feeling some other guy's balls slapping yours is what you're living for might be a bridge too far. But, hey, it was just us. And I can't lie. It was turning me on something fierce, and I fucked him like we were making pups.

But it was when I was giving him his turn that he really got talking. He was like that. I'd have a cheek in the grass, ass to the stars, and there he'd be, diving into me from over my back, with his mouth practically in my ear and talking up a storm. Don't ask me why, but that's how the boy fucked. Chatty Catty with a dick. Wonder if he was like that with Beulah. And that night, for some Goddess-wet reason, all he could think about when he was balls deep inside me was that tacky painting my brother was pasting his shitmobile together with.

"Oh, man... that vixen. Ffffuuuucckkk, that vixen..."

"What vixen?" I said, mouth full of grass.

"That one Ryan's painting," he slurred. "Oh, fuck, big tittie vixy," he moaned, fucking my ass like I was her. "Just like that one on the... on the... Oh, man... magazine..." Japheth, he was so drunk it was a wonder he could stay so hard.

"Would you just shut up and come, boy?" I said. Tried to laugh and make it sound like a joke but I really was wishing he'd just pour the gravy and relax.

"Oh, Mango, ohhh fuuuccckkk," he crooned. Finally, he squeezed the trigger and shot his bolt. He fell out of me like a pup out of a cunt, still spraying when his ass hit the weeds. "Oh, Japheth, that was... ohhh..." He pawed himself and started to giggle. "They don't even know. They're never gonna know. Drive right past 'em, right up to 'em, and they'll never ever know," he babbled.

"What are you talking about, Chip? C'mon."

"Ohh, Nicky," he said, crawling over to me as I stretched out on my back. He put his head on my hip and started teasing my cock; licking it and sucking it. I rubbed his back. I was pretty much done for the night, but a little bonus tongue never hurt nothing. He sighed and looked at me. "I run shine for Billy and Greg and them," he said. Like that was news.

"Uh huh."

"Them fuckers never pay me what they promise."

"Send a letter to the Business Standards Guild."

"Done way better than that," he winked, and burped. Thought he was gonna puke up on my stomach for a second. "Ssshhhh," he said, trying to bring a shushing finger to his lips and sticking it in his whiskers instead.

"Did you, now."

"Mmmm," he nodded. "Can you keep a secret?"

"Ain't gonna tell nobody you took it like a girl," I muttered.

"Huh? Hmm? Whatcha--"

"Nothin'. What secret?"

He looked around.

I was losing patience with this, drunk though I was. "Ain't nobody here but us. Blow it or stow it."

"They got themselves a top hat lab up in the hills," he whispered. Well, this wasn't actually news. There'd been speculation along those lines for months now. And I didn't think all them propane tanks were for inflating balloons at a dragon's birthday party. But this was the first time I was hearing it from somebody in a position to know. And Chip wasn't done pukin' up the beans. "Making about five pounds a week, I hear tell. 'Bout to expand. Partners, outta town. You know?" He'd seemed impressed at first, but then he turned mean. "Cheap fuckers, promising me one-fifty a throw, runnin' their shit shine all over the state for 'em. Me and a dozen other guys... And I'm lucky, we're all fuckin' lucky, if we see half that. I tell you, boy, them cheap... cheap fuckin'.... Them boys is cheap, Mango. Cheap cheap cheap."

"Uh huh."

"And that's why... I sometimes pay myself what I figure they owe me," he smiled. He tried to wink but didn't quite manage it. His eye just twitched.

"Why don't you settle down, Chip, and get some shut-eye, huh?" I was pretty toasted myself. The prospect of listening to his lip all night was not my favourite thing in the world just at that moment.

Chip stood up, wobbling, and without taking hold of himself, without even turning away, he just let loose. Stream of hot piss landing not a foot from me.

"Fuckin' Japheth," I cursed, rolling away.

"That's how I paid for that... uhh... That there thingie... Ryan's doing."

"The airbrushin'?"

"Nn-hnnnn, yup," he said, wobbling, the arch of his piss like some firehose in a hurricane. "They got... they got..." he whispered, trying to stay upright as his stream diminished and ending up dribbling on his toes, "Um... Mango, they got money... allovertheplace," he yapped, tossing his arm wide, and immediately falling on his ass. He erupted in laughter, rocking on his back. "Ow," he laughed. "Ow ow fuckin' owwww..."

"Go to sleep, Chip, c'mon."

"Oh, no, wanna fuck s'more... Hey, doncha wanna... doncha wanna..."

"Fuck s'more? Ah, maybe in the morning."

"They got money, all over the place, Mango," he said with renewed intensity, rolling onto his belly. "I seen it. I even pinched some."

"Oh, yeah? How much?"

"Prob'ly 'bout... ummm... uhhh..."

"Don't go poppin' a blood vessel, there, professor."

"Haahahhhaaaa," he slurred. "Lis--Shut up, Mango, I'm telling you something imported. Important. Now shuddup a minute and just... fuckin'... listen. Listen. Listen listen listen," he hissed, wiggling his ears.

"Ah, fuckin' Japheth..."

"I think... maybe... four grand? Maybe five?"

"Hey, whoa. That ain't petty cash. You better be careful."

He made a dismissive sound. "Fuck 'em. Fuck... them...!"

"Don't be stupid, Chip. If you got away with it so far, good. But you better--"

"Do you know how... do you know how you find it?"

"Find what?"

"The money, dumbass! What a dumbass..."

Some part of my brain pricked its ears now and sat up. "Nope. How?" Tried to sound disinterested. But he had my full attention, such as it was.

He crawled closer. Right through his own piss. Right up next to me. He whispered as if there were other people just a couple feet away. "You know how... you know them... them flags? Them... orange ribbons? On a stick... bit of wire... the county uses?"

"Place markers?"

"Place markers! Yeah. Them. And they got them pink ones? And I think, uh... yellow ones? Hey... do you know what they mean? The colours? What's yellow, that orange ain't?"

"So they use those?"

"Oh, no. No noooo," he said, shaking his pale grey mane.

I rolled my eyes.

"No, they use blue ones. Pretty blue ones," he smiled, and winked. "You see one 'em blue ones by the side of the road, you're... it's... You stand there, and pee in a circle, and I guaran-goddaman-tee you, you're pissing on the money somewhere. I found one out on Bald Mountain Road. And every... once... in a while..." He shushed me again. Shushed me, shushed me again, and winked. The wink happened a few more times, and then became closed eyes. I heard soft snoring.

I looked down at him, pale white in the pale moonlight, like he was made of it. Born of the moon and dropped into my lap. Chip was cute. He really was. Got a lot of girls in high school and afterwards. I found myself thinking that if he'd only had him a pussy and a halfway decent rack, I might have settled down to making little foxes with him. I blew away that thought pretty quick.Don't start thinkin' like that, I told myself. Toxic would never let me live it down if he ever heard that. It's hard to keep anything from him.

Up came that oppressive Oxbows sun. It woke us up in its own mean-spirited way. For all the drinking he did, Chip didn't seem none the worse for wear. He was a little quiet; I could tell something was bugging him. Maybe it was all the squealin' like a girl he did, I joked to myself. We washed in the creek and then ate and made small talk before packing up to head back to town.

I was chucking the breakfast grease out of the pan to feed the creek as Chip was getting dressed.

"I say anything last night?" he said, doing up his belt.

"Like what?"

"I dunno... just... anything. Something."

"Like what?" I insisted. I was having fun with this. I knew what he meant.

"Never mind," he said.

"You were a perfect gentleman."

He laughed. "I hope not," he winked.

"Well, we didn't catch no fish," I smiled. "Whatcha gonna tell Beulah?"

"That we didn't catch no fish," he chuckled. "I don't reckon she figured we would."

"Understandin' woman's a better catch anyway," I said.

"Yeah." He took a deep, satisfied breath. "Absolutely is."

We exchanged knowing smiles, and then hauled our gear up to his car.

* * * * *

"Ry," I said to him as we sat over supper at his table, "what would you say if I could get hold of some money to get us closer to that T-111?"

It was a good time to talk about it. Luanne had fetched the cubs up home an hour before, and it was just me and him and the racing on TV in the other room.

He chewed for a while and then finally looked up at me in resignation. "Well, go on."

"Suppose I could get, I dunno, ten thousand dollars. Maybe fifteen. We already got seven. That'd be over a quarter of what we need. You think we could leverage a loan on that?"

He chewed some more. Shook his head at his plate. "I told you, kid. Ain't nobody going to sink anything more into this place. If they foreclosed and had to sell the business, chances are they'd lose money even as it is." He looked up at me. "It ain't gonna happen, Mango, short of you winnin' the lottery. So I'd appreciate it if you'd quit bringin' it up."

"Suppose... suppose it was twenty-five--"

"Suppose it was a million. That'd do it. But anything short of the price itself, forget it. Now let it go."

"Well, suppose I took out a loan..."

He dropped his fork. "With what? What do you own? What are you gonna put up, your balls? Yeah, I know you think they're golden, but I don't think most bank managers would price 'em at forty grand apiece." He stared me down.

I was burning up inside. "If we don't do this," I said, "we're gonna lose Mitch and the squad cars. And more and more cars in the county as they junk their clunkers and start buying--"

"You fuckin' think I don't know this? Believe me, Nick my boy, there ain't nothing occurs to you didn't occur to me back when you were poppin' nose zits in your locker mirror. We're here, machine's there, and we got no bridge to cross! You walkin' on clouds ain't gonna get us one step closer. The fuckin' thing is gonna wind down, and I'm gonna have to sell it, and if you had a brain in that fat head of yours, you'd get out while the gettin' good!" His chest was heaving. "Why don't you get gone, Nick? I've been wipin' your nose for a dozen years, and I'm getting tired of it. Be a man. Move on."

"Why are you always saying stuff like that to me?" I barked. And then I said it. "You're my_father._You know it and I--"

His paw was across the table before I knew what hit me. I was nearly knocked out of my chair. I turned back to him in astonishment, my paw to my cheek.

"Your mother," he roared, "is my little sister. Do you understand? Now, I don't know what you've heard about this family, or what you_think_ you figured out, but my dad left Guildwood to get away from all that. And if anything like that ever went on, it was nothing to do with me.Ever. You understand that? Do you?"

"Yeah... Yes," I said. His slap felt like it had knocked twenty years off my age. There were tears in my eyes, and for more than one reason.

He sat back down, looking like the heart had been torn right out of him. He let a long minute pass before he spoke, all the while me sitting there, just breathing, like a useless lump of living shit. "I love you like a son, Nicky.Like a son. But you're not."

I just nodded.

He brushed his eyes. "You wanna solve up that mystery, well... You better talk to Jane sometime."

I bit my lip. Stared at the floor.

He got up, and he walked away. Back out to the living room. I heard him open a bottle.

I didn't stop him. I left him to it.