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W.I.L.D Records. Vicky stared at the gold colored letters across the black marble background lined up against the wall of the music publisher's office. She never actually learned the full name when the band signed their contract, and, if she had to guess, no one in the office knew what the letters stood for either. But they were still a legacy, even if Wild records nowadays were just a subsidiary of a subsidiary.

Or something like that. Vicky didn't understand much of how the business world worked. That was more Connie's specialty, being the big brains behind a lot of professional stuff before Deborah came into their lives. Taking a deep breath, only one thought bounced around in her mind. "This is a terrible idea."

Last night's party was still fresh on her mind, and not how she hoped an S&M party would be. She still smelt the leather and latex of the bed they shared, only adding to the pain of what came next. A single word that escaped the antelope's lips, as well as the expression of shock, and maybe even a little disgust if she remembered right, that followed when the antelope took the hyena's mask off.

No.

That was it. No explanation. Vicky didn't even get an attempt to talk as her manager just left the room and the club right away after that. But why did she? Deborah didn't mind when the hyena was just some masked sub volunteering at a party. She went as far as to save Vicky from a rather nasty night of sucking a dude's dick. The memory alone nearly brought up last night's shots as disgust rippled through her body. But as soon as the mask was dropped, and she saw Vicky, she left.

What was she supposed to say?

Exhaling, Vicky bit her tongue to feel something beyond the butterflies in her stomach at the thought of the band's manager. How long had these feelings been burning inside her? A drink would be helpful, something to ease her anxiety. But the dark blue token she palmed in her jacket pocket told her that wasn't going to happen. Straightening up, she breathed in and straightened her dreads. As corny as it sounded, it was time to face her feelings.

"Excuse me, Miss, do you have an appointment?" The mouse at the front desk asked. Vicky blinked when he spoke, having mistaken him for a lady with his thin frame and gorgeous eyes, supported by the spines atop to give a more feminine brush over his face. "N-No, but I'm here to speak with my manager. I'm Vicky Jaeger." She waited to see if her name rang any bells. "Lead Vocalist of RockJaws?" Still nothing but a blank stare from the rodent. "Deborah Millers is my manager. Is she in this office?" Vicky asked with a sigh, letting her head flop. Sure she wasn't exactly celebrity status, but at least some people heard of her.

The mouse typed away at his computer, "Deborah...Deborah...Oh, yes, she's in. Just let me call her to give you clearance and-"

"Do you have to?" Vicky asked, leaning into the receptionist's desk, giving as warm a smile she could, difficult given her intimidating maw, "I mean, we know each other. It's not like I'm some complete stranger or anything."

"Standard protocol, Miss. Just let me make the call." Grabbing their office phone, Vicky's ears drooped as he dialed in. No way Deborah would want to see her, not after her reaction. She should just leave right now, spare herself the humiliation of it all. But her legs locked in. From fear or determination, she wasn't sure, but they refused to move.

"Understood, Miss Millers. And you have a pleasant day." He hung up, staring up to the hyena with blank eyes. "Second floor, third office on your left." Vicky blinked, unsure if she actually heard that. He repeated, using his hand to express the motions, "Second floor, third office on the left."

"R-Right, thank you..."

"Shamus," The mouse said, "Have fun with your meeting."

Fun was relative, and not something she wanted to factor in this. She needed this to be a serious conversation and played out every opening in her head as she ascended the steps and walked through the halls. "Hey Debbie, so about last night...no...Hey, Deborah, I wanted to discuss why you left me and my pussy hanging..." She sighed, "For fucks sake, Vicky, keep your tube vag out of this. I know you're nervous, but that doesn't mean bring it back around to sex. Or talk to yourself! Fuck."

Deborah's door didn't stand out, having the same darkwood finish as every other door across the hall. Looking behind her, Vicky noted the cubicles lining the office, filled with people doing work she didn't fully understand. Office life was something she never hoped to deal with, even if she could wear her jeans and ripped t-shirts inside. With a deep breath, she knocked on Deborah's door, after double and triple checking the name is right. "Come on in," Deborah answered, the first of her voice Vicky had heard since the party.

It creaked open, more for Vicky's own nerves than any squeaky hinges. Deborah's office was, like Deborah, efficient. No clutter or personal nicknacks on her desk, walls bereft of posters or achievements aside from a business degree she'd lined up on the wall. This lack of style had her questioning why she'd been so infatuated with the antelope, but seeing her dutifully type away at her computer, barely even registering the hyena's presence, made her heart skip a beat all the same.

"You wanted to see me?" Deborah asked, eyes still focused on her computer. Vicky nodded, clearing her throat when her manager didn't turn around. "Y-yeah, it's about that party yesterday."

"What about it?"

"Well it's just...you were there, I was there..." Vicky tried to stroll casually throughout the room, taking a closer look at the degree hanging across the wall. Turns out it was a double major, business and communications. "I figured it'd be interesting to talk about, given what happened."

"What do you want?" Deborah still hadn't stopped working, speaking with the cold soulless tongue that Vicky's roommate likened to Satan. She never understood why, since the devil was supposed to be silver tongued, but she assumed Tiffany couldn't think of a worse insult. "I just want to talk," Vicky said. Deborah sighed, stopped typing, and looked at her. "No, I mean what are you asking for in this blackmail? I assume you have evidence of what happened, else why come here to bother me at work?"

Blackmail? Vicky shook her head, that wasn't at all what she intended. "Look, Debbie-"

"It's Deborah," The antelope stopped typing, swiveling on her chair to face the paradoxical punk, "At least have the decency to use my proper name when threatening me." The hyena expected anger, but neither her manager's tone or eyes gave it. They were empty, blank, as if devoid of any emotion. Like another business call. "So what do you want? More money? I'm sure I can cut you a deal for more sales figures in merchandise. Though if it's more immediate..." She pulled out her checkbook, tacturnfully clicking a pen open, "I'm not exactly unused to eating ramen for a month."

"No! No, no, no," Vicky waved her hands to bat away the accusations, "That's not at all..." Sighing, she grabbed the guest chair, "Can I sit? Please? I just want to talk."

"You have all the cards. But I thank you for asking." Deborah's tone didn't change, ripping the check out and sliding it over the desk. The hyena ignored it, focusing more on how her chest became tighter as she tried to word out her thoughts. Taking her seat, she stared at the floor, noting Deborah's hooves against the carpet underneath the glass countertop of her desk. Part of her wanted to kiss them, to go on her hands and knees and beg forgiveness for such a mistake.

Her perverted side needed to shut up.

"I didn't know you'd be at that Oasis party. Frankly, I didn't know you were into that sort of stuff."

"And why should you?" Deborah asked, "One's kinks and sexlife are personal. I never talk about it during work hours, except today apparently."

"Good point, good point. You're taking this whole blackmail thing exceedingly well. Not that this is blackmail." Vicky cringed at her choice of words, unable to stop her ditch digging tongue.

"Well, you're hardly the first person to blackmail me." Vicky tried chuckling at the joke, but Deborah's straight face told her otherwise. Rolling her eyes, the antelope kept a poise and upright position as she explained. "In this business, hell this city, this kind of dirt is just the cost of working. It's all about picking and choosing the muck you roll in. If that's what allows me to enjoy my nightlife rather than bottle it up, then I'll happily pick and choose my dirt."

Vicky heard her own heartbeat resonate in her ears with every mention of dirt or muck. Was that what Deborah thought of her band? Of her? "So...others have blackmailed you?"

"Of course they have. I try to be more careful, but people find a way." She tapped the check on the desk. "So, how much would you want for us to never speak of that evening? Two thousand? Three? I should mention that I don't have as much capital as someone in my position would make, to outsiders anyway. I'm not actually a good blackmail target." She clicked her pen with every third word, twirling it between her fingers every second. Vicky watched, her hands balling into fists while she tasted blood from her lips.

A small nervous cackle escaped her lips. "Nothing," She said, slowly chuckling in vain attempts to suppress her rage. As calmly as she could, the hyena got off of her chair and reached for the door. This was a mistake, it would have been better to live with the fantasy than the truth.

"If you wanted nothing, why come at all?"

"Question-" Her cackle cut the hyena off, forcing her maw wide open. Pulling it back, she cleared her throat and answered, "Question of the fucking century." She didn't slam the door behind her. As much as she wanted to, the scene wasn't necessary. Not for dirt like her, she'd already made enough of a mess.

Fingering her sobriety token in her pocket, the hyena pulled it out and chucked it into the nearest waste bin. She needed a drink six months ago.

***

Deborah tapped at her watch, strapped under her wrist more out of habit than to avoid any glare from the sun. Though there was plenty of sun during the day, just not enough in the moonlight for her to worry about it. Instead, her fears were set on the late arrivals of the band she both managed and talked up to have them attend this party. At least, that's the lie she told herself. The antelope was just as surprised when she heard Midnight Seizure asked for Rockjaws.

"Damn it, can't you all be professional for once?" She muttered to herself, tapping her hoof against the pavement on the outer gates of Rex Flex's, the lead vocalist for Midnight Seizure and the most uncreative stage name handle she personally could think of, mansion. It carried a more boxy and contemporary design, with walls acting more as glaring windows that, to an outsider, screamed a lack of privacy. From what she heard of Rex and his massive ego, it seemed to fit the ram just fine. But then again, what rockstar didn't have an attention fetish?

A familiar van rose up from the hill in the distance, just as the big hand passed four. Relief and dread filled her upon seeing it. They had arrived, but of course they had to choose their pathetic personal van that still carried rust on its underside and some sort of wizard painted across its side like it was the 70's again. She knew for a fact that they could afford a better vehicle, especially if they pooled their money together since they all decided to share the blasted thing. But no, something about pride and memory for them. Image was all that mattered in this town, and retro wasn't coming back that fast.

Parking along the sidewalk, she watched two rats hop out. Her fists tensed when she saw no one else coming out. "Where's Tiffany and Vicky?" She asked.

"Vicky's awol," Conner said, reaffirming her fears that he'd go crossdressed with a tight black dress, long nylons, and heavy boots that clashed but kept with the punk rock look the pierced and buzzed mice wanted to keep. "And Tiff is busy lookin' for her."

"Awol?" Deborah asked, hoping she misheard. "What do you mean 'awol'?"

"Well officially that means absent with intent for desertion," Connie explained, straightening her skull emblazoned tie. Deborah eyed the female rat, blinking and reminding herself that Connie did indeed identify as such. She looked more like a man than Conner with her black suit, sports jacket and all, with the same pair of boots as her brother. "But the picture is, we don't know where she is, and Tiffany agreed it's better we come here than try to look for her. This is important to our career's after all, and Vicky might show up."

"Plus the free booze." Connie eyed his brother maliciously after the comment, only to get a carefree smile. Deborah couldn't tell if he was serious or trying to lighten the mood in his own annoying way. She had enough trouble reading the twins as is.

"I don't think the two of you are enough to help solidify your spot," She argued, biting her lip and regretting the taste of her lipstick. She'd freshened up especially for this event, being the first time Deborah had actually been to a fancy rocker mansion. Her deep emerald dress was a rental, costing her so much that she skipped going to a hair stylist and spent days practicing her own styling to keep her headfur bunned up as the perfect mixture of casual and professional. Not that anyone would really notice, no one ever did.

"Good thing there's three of us." The three turned their heads to the familiar voice, finding the face of a dear friend or client smiling back at them. Vicky strutted over with her hands deep in her leather jacket. Her orange-tipped dreads were a mess, eyes near bloodshot as if little or too much sleep filled her day, with ripped jeans that appeared recent in their damage. A cocky smile crossed her lips as she bent down and locked her arms around the twins's necks. "Tiff's busy looking for me? Well I'm right here. Wouldn't miss this for the world."

Out of the three of them, Conner broke out of his shock first. "Where the hell have you been?" He asked, pulling out of her grip. Vicky heckled, "Out. Having fun. Being dirty," the singer's gaze fell on Deborah's for an uncomfortable period before turning to Connie, "But I'm here and ready to mingle. So let's go guys!" She shouted, pushing her bandmates through the gate, "Let's go get famous."

Deborah caught herself trying to reach out to the hyena, feeling a sense of guilt boiling up inside her. She pulled away, knowing full well that this was just some act to make her consider the yeen's tactics. She wasn't responsible for how she acted out of work. Vicky smiled, "Nice hair, Debby."

With a deep breath, the antelope stepped up to the taller yeen and looked her sternly in the eyes. "Not that it is of my concern to know, but where were you these last few nights?"

"Arms crossed huh," Vicky's grin grew wider, "Is my manager worried the singer got too filthy before the party?" Deborah furrowed her brow at that remark. "Whatever demons you're dealing with, save them for after the party."

"That what you tell yourself in the mirror when you wake up?"

Deborah didn't realize why her hand hurt until she saw Vicky clutch her face. Fear gripped at her heart. She assaulted a client, her primary client. The antelope had her issues, but she'd never go this far. Not even with Tiffany's constant comparison to Lucifer.

The hyena's smile didn't fade, not even as she nursed her cheek. "You know...you probably hit harder in bed." Without another word, Vicky headed toward the mansion, leaving Deborah to watch with confusion as her tail sat between her legs.

***

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Vicky repeated the thought again and again as she nuzzled her cheek. Why did she have to say that? Sure she was still pissed, but what good did insulting her crush do? She sighed, it at least gave her a reaction, which is more than any of her usual attempts at conversation did.

"Whatever," She muttered silently. Looking up to the window walled house, the hyena couldn't help but feel a small tinge of envy for the owner. Not for the actual house, no that was a complete joke. Even an exhibitionist would want privacy sometimes, and it kept making her think about the old saying about stones and glass houses. No, her envy was in the owner's success and she couldn't help imagining what she'd have in his situation.

Everyone did it, at least that's what she told herself to avoid the shame. See a big time celebrity and imagine what they'd do differently in their shoes. Vicky would pick a beachside property, someplace where she could listen to the waves while thinking up lyrics, or rest on a hammock with a beautiful woman who...she shook her head. Now wasn't the time for dirty thoughts. Now was the time to go mingle with famous rockstars.

Or get waisted, like the filth she was.

No heads turned as she and the twins walked inside, everyone too busy participating in chit-chat with one another to care for the newest dregs in their world. Suited Vicky just fine as she scoped the place out, eyeing an open bar set up in the corner with a smiling cougar mixing drinks. "Don't do it," Connie said, hooking a finger around one of the yeen's belt loops.

"It's a party, Connie." Vicky slipped out from the rat's claw, "We're here to have fun and socialize. Right, Conner?" The male twin had escaped their glance before they realized. Connie sighed and the yeen smiled. "Well, you best watch out for him."

Connie's scowl dug deep into her chest, but Vicky had stopped caring. "How Tiff puts up with you I'll never understand." The hyena shrugged, wordlessly walking away and setting up against the bar. "So, it's been a while so I gotta know: You paid for or do I gotta pay ya?"

He pointed to the tip jar, currently sporting a few five dollar bills. "Catering's paid in advance, but I do appreciate tips." Rolling up a five from her wallet and placing it inside, she smirked and asked for something heavy. His answer was a ginger ale vodka drink called a Headless Horseman. The night blurred from then on, with her introducing herself, drinking, chatting up on current events, drinking, discussing music and drinking.

Why did she stop? A little alcohol and the whole world seemed easier. People laughed more, invited her more often and even asked her opinion. Some focused more on the money side of it all, but Vicky needed to bring out her voice in music. To share what eats at her and tell people that they weren't alone.

Though she didn't have 'real' problems. She had a loving family that never needed for anything. No medical issues that forced her into the hospital, no dead friends or abusive ex's. Aside from a few flings, but they just wanted something she wasn't. A cackle escaped her maw before she drowned it in another drink. Yes, that was her only 'real' problem, and it was barely a problem. Everyone saw her as a top, like every yeen girl with a pushed out pussy. They wanted her to push them down and fuck them hard, cackle and laugh in dominance.

She just wanted to be spooned. Be on the end of the leash held by a beautiful woman. But no, no one got that. Everyone that saw her saw the damn dominance of her species. Vicky couldn't even get a fling with random strangers without them demanding she get rough. Barely a real problem, a crack in a sea of content adequacy.

So why did she feel distant? Downing her drink, Vicky found her glass empty. Which one was it? Her third, or maybe fifth? No, she'd been to the bar only three times. Licking her lips, the hyena didn't taste the bubbly ginger ale mixed with vodka anymore. It was sweeter...orange maybe. Did she grab another drink? Were people staring? Smiles were in her direction but eyes mulled in her vision as she braced the wall.

A new voice slipped to her ears, "Must be hard to walk without your wings for balance." She laughed, her voice more slurred than she expected. Was that some kind of pick up line? Turning, she saw a tall and, while not muscular like her roommate, fit ram with raven black headfur flowing freely down his head. "Not that I don't appreciate a beautiful face, but I don't believe we've met. You a plus one?"

"Plus one to what?" Vicky giggled, her legs struggling to keep her straight. "You look familiar...did we meet in a grocery shop?" The yeen wobbled forward, tripping over her feet. He hooked his arm around hers, unable to save her drink as it clattered to the floor. "Oh fuuuuck..." Pressing a finger, she shushed the ram, "Don't tell anyone, maybe the owner won't notice."

"Oh, I think he will. But he's got people for that." The ram smiled, hoisting her up, "And I don't think we have met, I don't shop at basic grocers anymore. Got people for that."

"Peoples huh?" Her words became cotton, her vision hazy. "You must be one of the rich music execs," Her fingers trailed across his suit, noting the norse runes stitched into it, "Fancy..."

"Executive? Well...in a way I am," his breath brushed her nostrils, mixing cologne and expensive alcohol to blind her sense of smell. "I do make a lot of the big decisions after all. We can discuss it more in my office, if you'd like."

"I..." Office? Here? She shook her head, "I think I need to lie down. Had too much." A hand held her back, pulling her in close, "Well, there's a bed close by. How about I help you into it?"

"That'd....that'd be great...Mr-"

"Rex," The ram smiled, "Just call me Rex."

***

This was a mess. Deborah's fingers dug into her dress, burning with anxiety over her ruined career. She should have been more strict, more demanding of when these stupid punks arrived and what they wore. Conner and Connie disappeared into the crowd, appearing to mingle in the corner of the antelope's eye every now and then. In the back of her mind she kept worrying about whether the rats had been stealing wallets or precious nicknacks when no one was looking. A stereotype? Sure, but she'd seen those two, especially Conner, get involved with the law enough that the antelope was more than justified to be worried.

Usually they had Tiffany playing adult. Watching the two rats like a hawk atop an imposing monolith. As much as she hated the amazonian shark's presence and incessant comparisons to Lucifer bloody Morningstar, Deborah needed her here and now. Not even the phone lines would reach her, gaining nothing but answering machine bullshit.

Worst of all was Vicky. Deborah tailed the hyena from afar throughout the party, knowing fully that the singer was up to something. So far that plan involved ordering almost seven drinks and making a drunken ass of herself. Determined to not let that destroy tonight, Deborah had been subtly directing party goers away from her whenever things got too rowdy. A directing a few waitstaff, an emergency call with her best car warranty voice, and other tricks she'd picked up in the laughable excuse she called a career.

How selfish could one be to ruin their own chances because blackmail didn't work? It made no sense. A lot of things about Vicky didn't make sense. The optimism she could deal with, most people in the business lost it within a year or so. But then she showed up at that damn S&M party, and as a sub no less. A good looking one, with that mask so tight and the bindings hold her in the antelope's grasp by the end of a leash.

"No," She muttered, shaking her head. Bad enough that her own fantasies of the band were coming into play. Deborah never felt guilt for putting coworkers in her wet dreams, why should she? It was clear to her that her boss did it every so often, despite how much he had his own secretary suck him off underneath the desk. Washing out that memory with a cocktail, the antelope blinked and found her target missing.

Cursing her inattention, Deborah scoured the party for the drunken hyena. Her blue eyes widened as she saw the black furred arms of Rex hooking Vicky in closer. She'd seen that look in so many men, and had known enough of the ram's rumors to know what he had planned. The devil on her shoulder told her to walk away. To let her attempted blackmailer face justice for daring to use the antelope's personal life against her.

Deborah didn't falter forward. Things like justice and fairness were just words to her. "Vicky!" She spoke with forceful praise and open arms, "There you are. I've been looking all over for you." The hyena's slow blink and lazy neck didn't fill her with confidence. "What?" She drooled out, nodding along slowly.

"I think she's a bit tired, Miss-"

"Millers, Mr. Flex," Deborah said, giving her hand to shake, "I'm Miss Jaeger's manager."

Rex didn't take it, "Is that so? Well me and your client were going to my office to discuss some work stuff. Like her opening show, and..." His hand crawled down Vicky's backside, squeezing her ass through the yeen's jeans, "Other important topics."

"Are you sure?" She asked, forcing out a professional smile and fighting the urge to glare, "It seems Vicky here needs to lie down."

"Down," the drunken hyena giggled, "Down, down, down, like dirt on the ground...so filthy and trash..." Rex tilted the drooping hyena's face up, "Oh I've got a bed in there. She can relax while we talk. I've always wanted to get the opinions of a newbie, especially one with a..." His other hand reached between her legs, stroking against the inebriated woman's crotch, "unique toolset."

"Mr. Flex I-"

"Shut up," He sneered, dropping his persona for just a second, "Unless you want to go back to getting coffee, I suggest you let me and the lady enjoy ourselves. Else she might not get her opening show and-" She felt a pain in her wrist before he finished. Deborah didn't even realize he was bleeding until he covered his mouth. She blinked, heartbeat in her ears muting everything else while Vicky slumped against her.

He reached for her. Deborah swung her leg against his crotch and sent him sprawling to the floor. Panic drove itself underneath her skin and hooked in with spikes. She ran, or rather, wobbled with Vicky in tow, carrying her out of the party to the front gate. "W-Where are we..." Vicky slurred, unable to tell up from down. How much did the damn hyena drink? A third of Deborah wanted to hit her, another third complained about her wrist, and the final told both to shut up and keep moving until they reached the gate.

A familiar voice entered her ears as Deborah pushed the gate open. "Look, I am telling you that I'm part of the band. How many times do I need to explain it?" Tiffany scowled at the bouncer, standing eye to high with him until the antelope carried Vicky through the opening. She blinked, dropping her anger for shock at the sight of her roommate. "What the fuck? Vicky!" Pushing the wolf out front aside, the shark grabbed and carried the hyena from Deborah's grip.

"Hey, are you awake? Hey!" Tiffany shook her friend, pressing a finger to her neck for a pulse. Cackling softly, Vicky's head nodded loosely, though any words she said were slurred at best. The amazon eyed Deborah, full fangs on display, "What did you do?"

"Save her from a damn mistake," Deborah said, holding back the vitriol in her voice while massaging her wrist. "Where have you been? Arguing with a bouncer?"

"Ma'am," The wolf stepped up, "I already have the band marked off I can't just-"

"Shut up." They said in unison, a rare agreement between the two as they stared each other down. Deborah had practically lost her job, she didn't need to hear excuses from an outsider while being lambasted by a shark that could twist her like a pretzel.

Actually, she didn't need the criticism at all. "Come on, we're taking my car."

"Your car?"

"Yes. My car. I know you Ubered here because you lot share the damn van and I'm not letting Vicky stay out here as a drunken frat girl any longer. So come on."

"Why should we go with you?" Tiffany snapped, "I'm not exactly interested in going to hell so-"

"Cease you childish insults for tonight!" Grabbing the collar of her shirt, Deborah glowered up to Tiffany's amber eyes, "I just fucking broke Rex Flex's nose. I flushed my entire career down the toilet to save her from assault. So please forgive me if I have no time for your petty comparisons. Now," She pointed to her beat up old sedan, "Get her in my fucking car. My apartment is closer."

Silence passed between them. Tiffany's anger softened, but the mistrust was still there. Of course it would be, Deborah didn't expect the shark to trust her. Nor did she really care for the drummer's opinion. Right now, all she wanted was for Vicky to get to a bed safely and then a brace for her throbbing hand.

With a nod, Tiffany headed to the car. "I'm driving."

"You're not under my insurance."

"And I don't trust you to drive with one hand. So give me your keys and get in the back."

"You don't know my address."

Tiffany pulled out her phone, "I have an app for that. Tell me when ready." Giving up her keys and home address, the antelope sat in the back next to the hyena. Vicky slumped into her, nestling against her shoulder. In the shine of passing streetlights, Deborah found her to be rather adorable.

"Garbage..." Vicky muttered, eyes closed and shivering, "Just...garbage."

"No," The antelope whispered, fingers slowly scratching the yeen's scalp, "You're not."