FSE

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CHAPTER 3

Q&A SESSION

With one final grunt of effort, Frank managed to settle his new table into place without scuffing the floor any more than it already was. He took a step back to admire his handiwork. The table isn't too big, barely enough for two people to use, but that mattered little to a bachelor. Except for a small drawing made in pen on one of the legs, the table looked new. The wood matched the floor well enough. He blinked. Something was amiss here. He turned and looked at, and then past, a spot above the switch that controlled the kitchen light. Sure enough, hidden behind two layers of peeling paint, there was the writhing black form of that strange multi-legged creature that was kind of like a centipede, but also not. Frank had decided to name him Kane. And if Kane was here, it meant that Frank wasn't. He would still be in bed.

Kane started up with his incessant buzzing again, droning on about his "master" and "a need to be used" Frank's attention instantly went back to the table. Real or not, Frank didn't want to give Kane any acknowledgement when he acted like this. If he wanted to ask Frank a question, he could use normal words like everyone else. Responding now would only encourage bad behavior in the future.

Frank gave the table a couple of knocks, testing its sturdiness, and got rewarded with dull, solid-sounding thuds. Well made. Out of oak, he thought, but wasn't the kind of person who was knowledgeable about those things. All the wood at home had been painted and the stuff in The Homestead was only a couple steps up from plywood. The walls were so thin that he had been able to hear the bedsprings squeaking from the room below him the night before last. Which wasn't the wort thing. Frank couldn't sleep in complete silence, and the fan in his room seemed to be the only thing in the apartment that didn't creak and groan whenever someone got near it. He had heard in passing that the guy below him was a bachelor. Maybe some of that man's luck would rub off on Frank and he'd soon find himself meeting a girl to make the bed creak with. More likely, the bachelor was dating the same girls Frank knew: Betsy Palmer and her five sisters.

He rounded on Kane with a growl, deciding to blame him for misfortunes both dreamed and real. "Fuck you," he said. Nothing but buzzing in response. Feeling like an idiot, he returned to examining the table. In those brief moments of pure dream, before he gained lucidity, he had known there was a drawing made in pen on one of the legs. He squatted down to check it out. The drawing turned out to be located towards the bottom of one of the legs, facing inward. Frank had to stick his torso partially under the table to get the full view of it, being mindful of his horns.

There, holding on to the side of the wood like a fat tick, was a crude scribble made with in a garish neon pink. It was supposed to be a face, probably, staring upwards, with mouth wide open eyes rolled back in its head. Being so sketchy, it was impossible for Frank to determine what kind of face it was or what species of animal it belonged to. There were spikes on top of the head that could have been a mane or horns or even feathers. No teeth inside the mouth to hint at whether the drawing depicted a predator or herbivore. The expression was a mystery, too. Frank had suspected that it was a scream at first, since that would fit the mild nightmarish vibe the rest of the dream had but became less sure of that assessment the more he looked at it. Instead, he began to wonder if the face might be contorted in ecstasy, or maybe even prayer.

He ran a hand over the defaced surface on the wood. The lines were pushed deep, as if the face had been carved as much as sketched. Even if someone could manage to get the ink out, the ghost of the face would remain. Frank withdrew his hand, now shivering with disgust. He could not have said why the face bothered him so much, but it had. He came out from under the table and went to the sink in his kitchen to clean himself, turning on the water with an elbow. Even in a dream, he had no desire to spread whatever might have been on that drawing around his room. He woke up before he got his hands under the water.

Frank got up angrily and went over to the kitchen to finish what he had started in the dream. He knew, on some level, that anything he might have touched couldn't have possibly followed him to the waking world. However, even the faintest chance that some of whatever taint had possessed that face had rubbed off on him made his stomach turn in knots. He had enough troubles in the real world without any nightmares crawling into it.

There had been trouble with the bank when Frank's parents had tried to send him some money. It was still coming, but now was delayed for an indeterminate period while the bank examined the transaction to ensure that his account had not been compromised. Frank knew little about banking, other than that it was a pain in the ass, so he had no choice but to accept the bank's decision to investigate and hope that they were done soon. Bank errors never seemed to take more than a day or two to resolve, but he was flat broke in the meantime.

At least his money problems would be alleviated when he started work in two days, but he also had a problem that he had no clue how to even begin to solve: one of his neighbors was under the impression that Frank had been hitting on his wife. Thinking about the ride back from the store Mort had given him still got him dizzy. Frank had been avoiding Adrianne the past few days, afraid he might start a fight. He had never been in once before, wouldn't bet on him walking out unscathed if he got into one now. Plus, his other neighbors would be looking out to make sure he didn't try anything, not that he had seen any of them around for a good while. He almost wished someone come threaten him again, just so he would have someone to talk to.

Unemployment and an empty house had been driving Frank crazy with boredom. A man could only dick around on the internet so long before all the posts began to bleed together. Starting to put together a cup of coffee, he wondered if anyone might be available to chat. Couldn't be Adrianne. Sara wasn't around most of the time and was so drained from work that she spent most of her time in her room when she was around. Frank found that it was hard to be angry her for not wanting to listen to him bitching about how tough the move was being, seeing as her job at the salon had her listening to stranger's problems all day long. The only other person he knew was Mary, but he was still unsure how she felt about him. Their first meeting had ended on a strange note, and she had barely spoken two words to him since then. Without meaning to, he had overheard a conversation between Adrianne and Mort saying that her hours had been cut again. Frank would prefer it if that was the only reason Mary was being short with him.

After finishing his morning drink, Frank left his room and made for the common, hoping to run into one of the tenants he hadn't met yet. He also hoped they weren't as unpleasant to deal with as Mort had been. If they were, he simply wouldn't be able to deal with it. Between the move, the lack of funds, and the strange dreams, Frank believed that any more stress would cause an aneurysm. He had already found himself with a near permanent headache which only seemed to recede when he found the rare thing other than mindlessly scrolling through social media to occupy his time.

Halfway down the stairs, the risk of meeting a new person in the common room suddenly seemed more trouble than it was worth. Trudging back to his room, Frank felt his headache growing. Only two more days before work started. That would take some of this burden off his shoulders. Frank had to believe that, or else he'd simply lie down and give up. With a sigh, he turned the handle to his room. Locked. Strange, he couldn't remember doing that. He dug around in his pockets for the keys. Nothing. How had he locked it without the keys? There was no way to do that, so the door must still be unlocked. In spite of Frank's infallible logic, the door remained closed when he tried a second time. "Un-fucking-believable," Frank said at the door.

When three more tries produced the same result, Frank gave up. He dug his phone out of his pocket and dialed Shomer's number. Not there. Answering machine full. He'd try again in an hour or so. Failing that, he'd have to write an email or something. Frank still had trouble coming to terms with the fact that the door had locked by itself. He had left the room open the last few times he had made a short trip, such as down to get his mail, and the door hadn't closed on him then. Of course, those times he had his keys on him. Nothing could go wrong unless it went all the way wrong, he figured.

I guess I'm going to the common room anyway. Christ, please make it so I don't run into any more assholes. A minute later, Frank entered the common to find that his prayer had been answered. The room was abandoned for the moment, the couches empty and the T.V. quiet. The remote was nowhere in sight, but Frank had learned that that usually meant it had slipped between the cushions of one of the couches. It took a bit of searching, but eventually the remote was found. Now: what to watch? Cable T.V. had been, to Frank, something of an older person's hobby. He found it hard to remember the last time he had watched something that hadn't been streaming. Nothing to do for it but start browsing channels.

He had been watching an episode about something to do with a government agency waging a secret war against a non-denominational death cult, again thinking about how wasteful it was to blow up cars in what appeared to be perfect condition, when a sing-song voice with a slight Spanish accent interrupted his reverie. "Oh? And who's this now?"

Frank turned to find a tall jackal of comparable age with himself, though maybe a bit older, in a black tank top and loose-fitting men's work pants. Her shirt clung tightly around the breast, cutting off just above the waistline to give the slightest peak at cream-colored belly fur. A mischievous smile split her face, giving whoever saw it the feeling that they were about to fall into some mean-spirited prank. The sharp glint in her eyes did nothing to help the impression. Frank felt his mouth go dry as she strode towards him.

The woman placed a hand on the sofa's armrest and leaned towards him, giving him a good look down the front of her shirt. "You like it? It's cotton, you know." Frank gave a start and turned his face away to hide the blush forming underneath his wool. He cleared his throat roughly, drawing a chuckle from the jackal, before he began his introduction. Doing his best to ignore the fact that this woman had just caught him staring at her chest, he told her his basic story and what room he was in. Impressively, he only stuttered twice during the whole thing.

Still smiling, the woman tapped a claw on her cheek. "Locked out? That happens, sometimes. There are old locks here, and they can turn by themselves if you close the doors too hard. Oh, I don't think you need to call Mr. Shomer, though. I can help with your little problem, if you want," she said. Then, as an afterthought, "I'm Ana, by the way. It's a pleasure to meet you." Frank eyed this woman, Ana, suspiciously. She hadn't said anything strange, but something in her tone worried him. "You can help?" he asked. "How? You have a spare set of keys for someone else's room?"

Another chuckle from Ana. "No. Like I said, these locks are old." She drew a small object, out of nowhere, it looked to Frank, with a serrated edge that resembled the kind one might see on a bag of chips. Frank's eyes moved between Ana and the small object. "What's that thing?" he asked, feeling increasing concern. Ana pushed herself off the armrest and started for the stairs. "You said 204, yes? Come on, this won't take a minute." Frank had jumped up to follow before she finished speaking.

Ana paused in front of Frank's door for just long enough for him to catch up. "You asked what this was," she said, holding up the small metal object. "It's a key rake." In mere seconds, Ana stuck the rake into the keyhole, shook it around a few times, and adroitly picked the lock open. Holding the door open, Ana gave a bow reminiscent of a high-class hotel attendant. "You first," she said, raising her head. Bowed down like she was, her eyes were level with Frank's. Frank looked into her eyes for a moment, shocked, before walking into his room, feeling as if he were running on automatic.

He shook his head. All he could do was stand in the middle of the floor, staring at the open door. "So that's it? Anyone can just come into my room while I'm out?" It was unbelievable. He had known before this that having his room broken into was a possibility, but he had assumed that lock-picking on that level was only something that a master thief could do. The type of person who was too good to ever target a guy with only a coffee maker and $87 to his name. Now he knew that anyone with one of those "key rakes" could get in in under ten seconds. Frank hadn't felt safe in this new neighborhood, per se, but he hadn't felt _un_safe until right this moment.

Ana walked in and took a seat on his bed like it belonged to her. Apparently, breaking into his room hadn't been enough of a violation of privacy. "Why wait until you're out? Police ain't good for shit in this part of town. Or any other part, if we're being honest," she said. Ana let out a cackle as Frank whipped around to stare at her. Feeling his cheeks grow hot, he fumbled for a response. "Well, what says someone doesn't come after you first, huh? Wouldn't be so funny, then!" Frank said, putting his hands on his hips. The smile remained on Ana's face, but all mirth drained out as Frank spoke. "Nothing's to say," she responded in a chill tone.

Frank shuffled on his hooves uneasily. He sensed that a nerve had been struck with that last comment. Frank felt that it would be appropriate to apologize, but he didn't want to. It was her who had started scaring him for a laugh, after all. It was only fair that she got some back. Neither said anything further, and the moment dragged on. Getting anxious, Frank began to stammer out something to change the topic when Mary stuck her head into the room. "'s all the fuss about?" she asked. Right. The door was still open.

Ana managed to answer for him while Frank was still formulating a response. "I was just trying to help the new guy get adjusted to life in The Homestead. Answering any questions he might have," she said. Frank noticed with annoyance that the mischievous quality had returned to her face. "Is that right?" asked Mary. "Anything I could help with?" Ana clasped her hands together in front of herself, looking pleased. "It'd be great if you could. We were just starting our little Q&A session. Please, take a seat," she said, patting a spot on next to her on the bed. Frank gave a scowl that only Ana could see. He didn't appreciate her treating his room like her own personal lounge.

Ana turned back to Frank. "You don't mind, do you?" Frank opened his mouth to say he did but realized that this was probably as decent a chance as any to learn more about the apartment. Closing his mouth, he gave a half-hearted shrug of approval. Mary took her seat on the edge of the bed, exchanging a smile with Ana as she did so. What did that mean? "Don't stand there," said Ana, "Take a seat and get comfortable." Nodding his head, Frank looked around the room for a chair to sit on. He didn't own any.

Flushing slightly, Frank saw that the only place available to sit was on the bed, between Ana and Mary. "C'mon," said Mary, gesturing next to her with an elbow. "Sit." Mary's smile was now the exact mirror of Ana's. So that's how it was. Ana was obviously enjoying herself and, Frank suspected, was already forming an insult to throw at him when he refused. Frank, however, was too prideful to let this jackal woman get the better of him twice in one day. Trying not to let his embarrassment show, he quickly took his place on the bed.

Immediately, Frank realized that he had fallen for a trap. Mary leaned back on outstretched arms, pushing her chest out, and Ana put an arm around his shoulders. "Now," Ana began, "tells us what's troubling you." This bed was a generic make, big enough for animals twice his size. There was no need to be this close. It was a struggle to keep his voice level as Frank brought up a couple of the simpler troubles he had been having, not wanting to be rude but also having no desire to let these two in on his more personal problems. Bringing up the Mort problem would have made it worse, he thought, so that topic was left alone.

Ana nodded along as he spoke, offering words of consolation for the poor new guy. Mary, whenever she felt the need to comment, mostly stuck to earnest advice, though it was usually given at such a close range that Frank could feel her warm breath on his ear. One or two of the questions he asked caused the women to exchange glances over his head and giggle, which would never fail to make Frank's nose twitch with annoyance. Occasionally, while giving council on local customs, Ana would throw in a phrase that could be taken multiple ways, causing Frank's face to change a darker shade of red. Frank found that he was glad he had not yet had the chance to shave, or else he might as well have been holding up a neon sign announcing how bad they were getting to him.

One more shared giggle and Frank had had enough. This was a one-sided beatdown so far. Surely there was something he could do other than just sit here and take it. As he thought this, Ana shifted her weight a bit, making the bed springs squeak. An idea came to Frank. "You know, there is something that does bother me, from time to time. It's the guy below me," he said. "He makes a lot of noise, some nights." One of Mary's eyebrows went up. "Oh? What's up?" she said, putting her elbows onto her knees and resting her muzzle in one hand.

Frank gathered himself for a moment, trying to figure out how best to phrase the complaint for maximum effect, before he began. "Well, I hear the guy below me is a bachelor. I know how that gets. Lonely, I mean." Mary's other eyebrow went up. "Not that I hold it against the guy," Frank continued, "It's just that he does it a lot, you know? And gets really into it, besides. I mean, this guy can go at it well past midnight, sometimes, with the bed creaking away the whole time. I know I've only been here a few days, but I've heard him most nights so far! I don't know the guy either, not even what his name is, so I can't just go up to him and tell him my problem. Do you think you could talk to him for me, since you guys have been here longer?"

That was pretty good, Frank thought. Mary's mouth had dropped open as he was speaking and now, she was looking over him, at Ana. Frank followed her eyes, trying to keep a smug grin off his face. Ana made no effort to conceal her own. "You do know the bachelor's name, though, Frank. It's my name, after all."

Frank felt his face light up such a bright red that he was sure Ana could see it even through the wool. "It is?" Frank said, his voice cracking so bad it made him flinch. "So, wait, what's the noise then?" Ana gave a laugh in response. "You already said what it was, man! Come on, girls can do it, too, you know. I even get paid for it," she said with a wink. Frank felt like his mouth was full of cotton. He tried to work some moisture back into it so he could stammer out a response, but all he could do was stare wide-eyed at the jackal woman. After what felt like an eternity, all Frank managed to get out was a scratchy whisper. "You get...paid...for it?"

The smile vanished from Ana's mouth for the first time. "What are you, twelve? Yes, I get paid for it. Prices are going up everywhere, and it's only natural that women start following the trend." She adjusted her nose higher into the air so she could better look down it at him. "That's feminism for the modern age. Looking down on sex workers is antiquated thinking. Besides, I find it hard to believe a man such as yourself has never seen any porn."

Frank couldn't believe it. He was getting chastised over his morals, in his own room. By a cam girl, of all things! This was the second time this week he had gotten in trouble with a girl without really saying anything. "Okay. Cool," he said. "Thanks for the help, both of you, but I think it's time for you to go." With a huff, Frank pushed off the bed and opened the door for the ladies. Ana, still lingering on the bed, threw up her hands in mock surrender. "Sorry, sorry. I always go too far. But, you know..." A small twitch in the corner of Ana's mouth made Frank mentally brace himself. He could tell she was getting ready to lob something unpleasant in his direction.

"You don't have to settle for porn, if you've got enough cash," she finished. Frank rolled his eyes. She had to be kidding. Revealing the cam thing had been bad enough, but this was pushing it. Now fully convinced that Ana was just saying whatever she could to get him flustered, he felt anger creep into his voice. "I'm not going to hire a prostitute. Get out," he said, staring daggers at the jackal. Ana put on her best shocked face. "A prostitute? My! You don't need to go that far out of your way. After all," she said, surprising Frank by turning to face Mary. "Mary here will sleep with anyone who takes her out for some decent food."

Mary punched Ana's arm in a way that didn't give the impression of being a joke, but Ana still began laughing as she clutched at the point of impact. "You little shit!" said Mary, rising threateningly to her feet. Still laughing, Ana bounded out the door before any she took any more damage. Pausing in the hall just outside the door, Ana turned around and shouted, "I'm serious!", then ran off down the stairs. Frank stared after her, still holding the door open like a prop.

Blinking slowly, he turned to face Mary. "Don't listen to half the shit she says," said the wolf, a scowl now covering her face. "I have half a mind to go down there and beat her ass. Don't let her do whatever she wants to you just 'cause she's got some good looks, Hale." Frank was about to say that Mary had done quite the job helping Ana do whatever she wanted to him not two minutes past, but the look on her face made him think better of it. "Yes, ma'am," was the answer he gave instead.

Mary made for the door. Frank was about to close it on her when she turned to look him in the eye. "And don't let her give you any ideas," she said. Was she blushing now? No, the color had already gone. Frank must have imagined it. "Never," he said as innocently as he could. Mary glared at Frank for a moment, waiting to see if he had anything else to add. Frank gave a placating smile and placed a hand on his heart. Nodding with a stern satisfaction, Mary turned on a heel and left.

Closing the door with a sigh, Frank returned to his seat on the bed, which greeted his appearance with a squeak. He dug his phone out of a pocket. A little past one in the afternoon. After what had just happened, Frank felt that his energy for the entire rest of the day had been sapped away. "What the hell," he said to the empty room. Opening up his phone, he lay back and began browsing through the more recent posts in a group chat that he had become a part of back in college. It wasn't particularly entertaining, but it was something to do to take his mind off what Ana had said. There was no way she was a cam girl. She had merely said that because she had known it would set him off. The thing about Mary, too.

The more he remembered of the conversation, the harder it became to focus on reading. He remembered the warmth made when one of his guests had gotten too close to have possibly been comfortable. He remembered the way that Mary's shirt had seemed a size too small as she lounged on the bed. He knew, only having met her on a few occasions, that Mary bought clothing that was practical and sturdy, made to withstand the tough physical labor that he had heard her job entailed. Still, he found that he kept wondering how far she could have stuck her chest put before the fabric began to tear. Stupid thoughts of hypothetical scenarios with the two girls kept intruding annoyingly into his train of thought. Without realizing it, Frank had closed the group chat and opened a different app.

He looked nervously at his door. Locked, yes, but what good would that do? He couldn't stay where he was, either. If he could hear Ana, surely, she could hear him, too. Feeling vaguely ashamed, Frank got off the bed and locked himself in his bathroom. Small, yes, but the thick tiles made it soundproof. Probably.