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Oh trust me, I was up in the dark of night. Shoes laced up. Wallet, phone, and keys in hand. Quiet as a mouse and slick, I was out and right back into my shitty car without so much as a creak of his floor. He'd wake up and chalk this up to be some silly wet dream. I'd stay awake the entire drive back, probably run a red light or two, knowing fully well that this was real.

Except that never happened.

When I got to that damned latch, I realized my shitty car wasn't outside. I realized that my even shittier studio apartment wasn't even in walking distance. And I realized, worst of all, that I was stuck here until this asshole woke up.

It was no doubt this snake oil salesman buttered me up to sign me off and lay me. Fucker had the best night of his life while I... I was played. Like a dumb sorority girl sleeping with the head of the frat.

She'd say she loves the breadcrumbs of his personality. Say that he'd treat her well, make her popular, and put her first if they slept together. He's nice until he gets tired of her. Takes her out, dresses her up (to his liking), and then wears her arm like a letterman jacket in front of his friends. A new girl shows up and soon he's wearing another arm.

I'm that girl. Signed my fucking life away at the flash of a player's smile. Just thinking about it, I swear I can still taste his semen squirming around inside of me. There is no undoing that, but at least I can't get pregnant from this shit.

I don't know what a person should feel in my case. Either I got the biggest scam of my life, or...

No, there wasn't an 'or.' Bucky is a shit asshole and I'm stuck sleeping on his couch. I'm just going to find a blanket and-- shit, I don't know where he keeps them.

Worse, it's cold here. Real cold. I felt like I could see snow from the ceiling and, even in my hoodie, I was feeling the chills. I bet he's too cheap for proper heating or maybe this is just part of his game.

I look around for anything at all to warm me up until going through his apartment started to feel creepy. The door to his bedroom looked like the gates of hell, but I eventually was wrapping my paw around the doorknob.

The feint light peering in from behind his curtains outlined just how massive his bed was. It had to have been some sort of King though he only used a small part of it. I saw his outline beneath layers of pillowy sheets as he nearly hung off the right edge of it.

One second, I was stuck thinking about how much nicer this looked than my creaky, old twin bed I bought from a neighbor. The next second, I was beneath the sheets, down to my boxers, and rubbing a cautious paw towards him to see if he was awake. My handpaw betrayed me. My handpaw gave me life. I lightly touched his shoulder and I heard that asshole snicker as he'd been awake for some time now. "You cold," he asked.

I snapped my paw back. "No. No, I'm just fine."

He turned over towards me and the moonlight shined down his shoulders and tops of his pecks. I couldn't tell if he was wearing anything and suddenly I felt a familiar stirring in my boxers.

"Then why are you shivering?"

Fuck. When did that start? "Uh. I..."

He didn't care. Instead, that asshole flashed a toothy smirk and pulled me right into his arms. I didn't make it hard for him to do so. I shifted up against him. My head beneath his chin. His stomach stirring against my back. He was soft, his warmth was intoxicating, and he clutched me tight like some sort of stuffed animal.

"We got a big day together tomorrow. Just get some sleep, okay," he said.

At that, I accepted the ridiculousness of this whole scenario. I accepted that another man was spooning me and that I was somehow wasn't even the big spoon.

I fought my sleep, because sleep felt like something new and I wasn't ready for something new. I was ready for right now and right now was already a lot. I didn't want to know what was tomorrow. I didn't want to know where he'd take me and what this would all mean when I'm not tired and stranded at some dude's apartment.

But, eventually, I succumbed to it.

It was deafening. A roaring thunder of air from the car vents came out as a hair dryer against my eyes. The smell of melting plastic. The vents would never open again if I adjusted their direction. The sight of the damn windows fogging up all over again.

We both knew well that the temperature knobs were just for show. You can twist the cheap plastic dials any way you want, but it will always be just as hot. That is unless you favored A/C in Chicago's winter instead.

The cycle never ended. The air burning the fur on my muzzle vanished at once. The warmth fled my body as frigid air began to collect by my sides and pierce through my fur. He was now desperately trying to clear up the foggy glass of the windshield blasting it with air. I craved that awful heat, but it was best to not get into another accident.

He looked hopeful. My father had dreamed about this for a long time. I knew because he'd been telling me it for a long time. His ears shoved themselves against the low ceiling, his lips curled to a smile that caught on his face and made its home there.

"This gym is great, I'll tell you," he said. "You're gonna love it."

From the side of my eye, I pretended not to see him glance over in my direction. Stubbornly, I stared ahead as the wind practically blew the car over. The cheap heat smelled of gasoline when it was shoved back against my face once more. In some parts, I was too hot, feeling my fur catching fire. In other parts, I was a frozen corpse.

"You'll warm up when you get there. Gym isn't much better than this rust bucket, but, when you get moving..., get boxing...," he tapped the steering wheel, "You'll be all heated up."

I couldn't help but chuckle. "If I'm going to do this, can I at least get a new coat?"

"Maybe." He nodded. "You keep up with this and I'll be sure to tell Santa about that."

"I'm 13 years old. I freaking know Santa's fake."

He toughened up. "The gifts Santa puts under the tree sure aren't. You stay at it and I'll find ya a coat that will burn you it'll be so hot. Hell, I'll be feeding you grapes and shouting your name from the rooftops."

"And what if I hate it?" I said looking at the cement bottom of a skyscraper passing by.

He sighed. "Then you won't be needing a coat anyway. You're inside too much as it is."

I rolled my eyes. "Just because you like boxing doesn't mean I will. I'm only doing this to shut you up."

He clenched the wheel. "Oh, is that the case? Then let me turn around my car and I'll tell Burton you're too damn scared for his classes then."

"I'm not scared." I tensed. "I just don't like it. Why the hell would I want to punch some random dudes?"

"Because it's fun, Roger." He took a breath and got his smile back. "You get into the ring and it's just all no bullshit. You release some steam, get the adrenaline going, and ya toughen up."

I grumbled. The exact words said a thousand times and he still wastes his time saying them.

"You need to build up your backbone before the world beats it out of ya. I'll tell you that. And boxing is a surefire way of doing that. You'll see."

I knew he wasn't budging, but I looked at his stiff expression just to confirm that. It didn't matter anyway, the gym was just a block ahead.

It had red brick cracked at places and discolored in others. The gym took up a humble corner of two streets and the only way in and out was a beaten white door on the side. The only thing that didn't look centuries old was a wooden sign with a fresh, white coat of paint glowing upon it. It hung over the entrance with black letters saying, 'Ringtail Arena: Boxing Gym.'

I looked over at him in disbelief. "This looks like an old person's house."

"Just try it out." He stopped at the light and tossed a warm smile my way. "You'll learn to love it. It's in your blood. Hell, I bet you'll be beating the stuffing out of those tail sniffers."

"Like heck, I would."

"No, you see, you have it. You have that one thing they'll hate you for."

"Oh, and what is that?"

"Heart."

I clicked off my seat belt at the light. Sucking in my lips, I zipped open my coat and wrestled it off of me until I was just in a t-shirt. "Do you always need it to be this damn hot?"

"Just match what I wear and you'll be fine," Bucky said in a t-shirt. "We're almost there anyhow."

And he was right. Ahead, I could see Burton's sign, white paint chipping and cracking across, the underlying wood cracked and exposed underneath. It looked like a dive bar more than a gym as it passed by us.

My eyes jutted over to him. "You missed the turn."

"I didn't," Bucky said cracking a smile.

I raised an eyebrow. "Parking is shit on this street. There's a small lot behind the gym."

His smile boomed. "That won't be necessary." We took a left turn and it all became clear.

"No... No." I leaned forward staring down his growing smile. "No. No!"

His eyes jutted toward mine as he slowed down. Bucky was taking it in just cracking up. Hell, I half-wished he hit someone for some instant karma. Instead, all I got was a good eyeshot of spotless glass that continued a great distance left to right; a floor of fresh gray bricks dazzling in the sunlight; and oversized, shimmering metal letters spelling out 'Terry's.'

I frowned. "No, fuck you! You want me to box for you? You take me to Ringtail Arena." I pointed a finger at him.

He slipped right into a member's only parking spot and cranked his parking brake up. "I wish I recorded this. I really do. That face is just priceless."

"So you're just fucking with me then?"

Bucky opened up his car door letting the wind gush cold air against my face. "No. This is where we're training."

But I didn't move as he got out. He was about to close his door, saw me, then sat back into his seat.

I took a deep breath out and spoke my final plea. "Bucky, I know you don't see it, but Ringtail has heart. Has history. I don't need water splashing my tail hole every time I shit. What I need is a gym that keeps me focused on the basics. Sets me straight, you know?"

He shook his head and had an ill-timed chuckle that rose my blood pressure. "The only way this will work is if you trust me. I'll set you straight if you get starry-eyed."

I took a breath out.

"Or maybe it's too late for you to be straight after last night?" He smirked.

My face balled up as my maw hung agape. I busted open the door of his truck. Asshole. "If this shit doesn't work, I'm driving myself to Ringtail and you can meet me there."

He cracked open his door and smirked. "Oh, to get back your title?"

I scowled his way and then marched off to the door. "I'm going inside."

"This wasn't a part of the fucking deal," I said.

"Well, it was. It's right there in the contract. Hell, if you just read the tournament flier--" He became dazed. "Just how much have you signed without reading?"

The familiar vixen from yesterday was looking right at me. "Do you have a membership?"

My head was spinning. "Guess. Just fucking guess."

Her head went back a bit. "I'm sorry?"

I leaned onto the counter. "You know damn well I don't have a membership to this hell hole."

A paw came onto my shoulder. "Just ask for a form," he said.

This asshole really just did that? He really just did that? I whipped right around to look at him. "You shut up. Just let me handle this."

"Oh, how are you going to handle this," Bucky stepped up to me.

"Sir, just please calm down. We can get you a membership. Just fill out this--"

"I'll handle it. Just shut up." I shot out to Bucky then sighed grabbing the clipboard and pen. "Jesus, you act like you own me just because you got your dick wet."

The vixen's eyes shot wide as he twitched. I could tell that I put some gasoline on the fire and that was downright hilarious to me right now. It may be awful, but seeing him getting all riled up is kind of funny. It just seemed so out of place for him.

"Okay, fine. But there are some specifics I'll need to help you with," he said.

I looked up at him and frowned. I took the clipboard from the desk and pushed it right against his chest. "Fine. You want to do it, then you do it."

There are nightmares that we carry. Nightmares that reoccur, leave you sleepless and seem to come up at the worst moments. I've had these nightmares many times, but most were about this exact situation coming to life.

Yes, they had their iPhones ready, Apple watches glowing, and air pods tucked right in their little cute ears. I'm happy Bucky was covering the membership costs. I can't keep up with the yuppies.

And I was with them. I was there next to an asshole that used me and set this shit up, and now I was desperately trying to pretend that I didn't see any of them. I wished I had air pods so I couldn't make conversation or hear them when they spoke, but I didn't. Guess I didn't have money falling out of my ass to burn.

I refused every single hello. Bucky said this would make sense--especially if I read anything he gave me--but I still didn't see it. Instead, I just lounged around by the side of the ring as Bucky practically dragged me around.

"I brought fresh blood. Son of Sam Seater himself," he said proudly as he practically ripped my arm off pulling me in.

In front of us was a slim hyena toned all over. His arms and legs were splattered with brown spots of all shapes and sizes on his fur. His brown muzzle was locked in a smile, but I was looking right at how weird his eyebrow looked. Unluckily enough, the poor bastard had the most distracting spot of brown fur placed smack dab in the middle of his eyebrow. It shared the same color as his eyebrow making his resting expression look rather silly.

"Oh!" The hyena in front of us got a wide grin. "You're Kira?"

My muscles tensed up and so did Bucky's grip. The tiger was so damn dead-set on first impressions and playing nice.

"Just kidding," he chuckled. "I know you're Roger. Your sister is at the University of Tampa still anyway, isn't she?"

"Did you like read a Wikipedia article on me or something?"

He shrunk up. "Yeah. I did a report for an English class. Sorry, I'm just a super duper big fan."

I softened up. The thought of what he said really got to me. "Of mine? I've been out of it for quite some time. Dad's retired. I'm kind of surprised."

The hyena straightened up. "That doesn't matter. I'd love to know why you took a break, but I feel like I skipped a couple of steps here." He moved his spotted arm to raise a brown paw my way. "I'm Henry."

I smiled taking but a brief second before shaking it. "Roger." His grip was firm as Bucky let go of me.

"Bucky! You didn't tell me you had friends," a voice boomed followed by a hearty chuckle.

I darted my eyes over to see a dobermann in a royal blue tracksuit marching our way with a black duffel in hand. His eyes glowed my way and I felt like I was on a funny farm. The big 'T' that made up Terry's logo was embroidered right onto his jacket and pants. His muzzle was dashed and sprinkled with bits and pieces of graying fur. He was taller and built much like a tank. His arms were as thick as my neck and his neck was thick as my torso.

All eyes were on him from the others gathered around. All air pods were put back into their cases and phones were shoved into bags.

The Dobermann pat Bucky's back twice before looking right at me. "I haven't seen you around here. Did Bucky bribe you or something?"

"Something like that," I smirked.

He turned to Bucky. "Are you pitching a new team member or is he just a friend?"

The tiger smirked. "We had a slot open and needed a knucklehead to fill it. Why not the son of Sam Carlson?"

I forced a smile and added one more tally to the counter of times my father's name is mentioned. I kept my lips zipped here though. Bucky was in business mode. Arm around Terry and eyes sparkling.

"Really? Sam's kid?" He raised an eyebrow. "Well, I don't think we have room for someone like that. I don't want to have to buy any new stools here." Terry cracked a smile.

Bucky gave me that look and I let out a laugh that sounded prerecorded. "That's really funny, Terry. I'll give you that." Inside my organs were condensing in on themselves.

He patted my shoulder with a dopey grin. "Ah, fuck it! Welcome to the team, Roger."

I couldn't tell if this was another joke. "You don't need me to try out or anything?"

"If Bucky says you're good, then you're good. Besides, your dad kicked my ass fair and square. But, next time, I'd love some sort of heads up." He patted Bucky's shoulder and then walked off to face the group. "Okay, enough of that."

I took a cursory glance to see the other two boxers drawing in close. A lizard of some kind and a lion.

He rustled around in his gym bag before unraveling the same flyer Bucky showed me. "This is the International Iron to Gold Tournament as you all should know by now. We have just one month left to get you boys in tip-top shape. With only Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, and Sundays to do so." He took a big breath in.

"Now, this is just for the qualifiers, but these qualifiers are no joke. My gym is great, but that doesn't give us a free pass. These boxers are out for blood. They all want this more than life itself and will fight as such. An estimated 10,000 people across the States will be fighting just to qualify. Our qualifiers will have a little over 500 competing. It's small by comparison, but not easy in the slightest. You're going to have to work hard for this. We have 100k on the line, enough fame to set your whole career up, and a shot at Goldfang himself. But, with all of that shit out of the way, we got some work to do just to pretend we got odds."

I glanced at Bucky. I thought we'd start small.

"The good news is that we've done it once. Roger, I'm sure Bucky's already told you about how he qualified."

Bucky gave a weak smile.

"Just that in amongst itself is a feat. With my guidance and Bucky's insider tips, I'm sure we can pull something together. If I didn't believe in at least one of your qualifying, then I'd be sipping tea in my office right now. Don't make me regret that."

A couple of heads nodded as Terry retraced his mind for anything he might have missed.

"Okay, run three laps and come back here." He shooed us away with his paws. The others began to get running and I started scrambling off layers to get into my t-shirt and gym shorts.