Saying No Chapter 1
#1 of Saying No
This story is based on a picture by a fantastic local artist named Blotch here: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/479670/
The character is copyrighted to them but was used and developed by me with permission. I wrote the story as a gift for a friend who's a tiger himself, and has a weak-spot for that picture in particular.
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"Now tell me who you are." It was an order, not a request. Sahir was staring at him through her sleek and streamlined frames, following every motion, every nuance, every breath.
The curtain parted with a flurry of flashes, the loud applause and blinding lights flooding his world with sudden overload.
"I'm the next big thing that's going to happen to this industry." He spoke it, and believed it. His tail lashing out of sight as he leaned back in his chair and smirked.
He paused a moment, breathing slow, taking in the scent of the crowd. He closed his eyes and a small smile crossed his lips, and he flicked his tail to test the waters; there was a spike from the stage right crowd but the rest were unimpressed.
"And what makes you think you're any better than the other twenty hacks who've come in here today begging me to be their agent?" She was leaning forward on her elbows, fingers laced together in front of her mouth. Lips pursed slightly in consideration.
He closed his eyes and took one step in, hip cocked just right, feet aligned perfectly, shoulders low and back, nose poised high, chest out, tail down, whiskers spread-and the crowd was his.
"Because they think they've got what it takes. They think that they've got a shot," the corner of his mouth twisted up in a knowing smile, "and that's just their problem. They're thinkin' too much."
The moments passed in snapshots, first one step, then five, and he was at the tip, all eyes on him, now or never, do or die:
She smiled and leaned back, eyes tracing the curves of his arms, the form of his chest, the outline of his frame under the fabric of his shirt.
"And you don't... I suppose?"
He purred ever so softly under his breath and leaned in, paws resting on the desk in the slowest movement possible. "Why think...? "
He paused, lips still parted in a toothy grin, "when I know..."
Black was back this season, tight and hip, and he showed it well. The fit leather vest lay comfortably across his shoulder, but accentuated the curves of his collar, flowing soft down his sternum, and the seams led you into his primped and fluffed chest-fur, teased to full attention, which lay visible between the unbuttoned sides. A black modernist belt held a pair of light-washed jeans loosely on his hip-bones, the sides tailored to contour his legs, and touched-up to look like he'd been wearing them for weeks now-just the right signs of wear at the edges. It was brazen but comfortable, new but familiar-and in his opinion, completely blasé-but the crowd would eat it up- if he held his head like this, and flicked his ears like that, and smiled at the corner of his muzzle like he knew something they didn't...
...which of course, he did...
The air hung heavy for a second or two, Sahir staring straight at the tiger still lounging casually before her. Her eyes darted everywhere, not missing a detail of the feline physique and design.
"Alright, mister..."
"Brahma," He added without hesitation.
"Mister Brahma." She nodded, flipping through pages on her clipboard. "I think we'll give you a shot." She smiled as she slid him a contract.
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There's a personality to each crowd, a flair uniquely theirs; and the best of performers are able to tap into that, feel the energy and feed on it. That's what made Brahma so good at what he did, and it's what would ensure that by this time next year the patterns he wore would be hitting the market hard; that thought alone kept him going.-
And with a turn he was out of the limelight, lights painting his silhouette on the far walls and with one last swish of his tail he was backstage and out of sight, and just like that the moment had ended.
Sahir was already at his side, primped and professional in her slimming grey suit which just screamed predator (it's the shoulder-pads). "Good show B, but next time try and sell the clothes, not your ass." She was glaring at him just over the rims of her glasses, and she certainly wasn't anything short of intimidating.
"Hey," He chuckled softly, "you know they ate it up Sarah," She hated when he called her that... "and as far as I'm concerned, I'm here to sell this junk and nothing more..." He pulled the vest off his shoulders, letting it slide down his arms slowly, stretching just right so that his toned chest lined up along his slim frame. He looked down at her with a mischievous grin and caught her rolling her eyes. He chuckled and dropped the act, catching the vest as it slid the last few lengths off his arms, giving her a wink on the side and tossing the skimpy garment over his shoulder.
A small smirk touched the corner of her muzzle as she looked appraisingly over him, "Well, you've got one thing right, whatever it was you thought you were selling out there, junk sums it up nicely." And with that she turned and left.
Brahma stood for a second watching after her, mouth still half-way open in the poor rebuttal he was about to utter. As she clopped around the corner he heard her bark 'strip' before he was beset by the crew, leading him over to his dressing area; prodding and pulling until clothes were all a thing of the past. As the team set about re-dressing him in his next outfit he sat brooding about Sahir, muttering curses about the sour old goat under his breath.
"Not half bad...not half bad..." Sahir was nodding to herself as she consulted her PDA, checking three or four calendars against each other. The show had ended without incident on Brahma's part, though a small mouse from Silverstone had tripped over himself on the way back up the catwalk and caused a three model pile-up.
Brahma was back in his street clothes again and didn't have to worry about seven stage hands and a make-up artist making him (in)decent at a moment's notice. He and Sahir were just now exiting backstage, the auditorium was vacant save for one other model and the custodial crew so he didn't have to worry about unsightly snapshots for the moment.
"So here's the scoop," Sahir finally looked up from the brightly lit electronic device and acknowledged him, "We got two new deals from Silverstone, apparently they need to replace a model, and quick." The tiger couldn't help but chuckle, but otherwise remained silent to allow Sahir to finish. "You're open on the twenty-third for their men's-wear shoot, but you scheduled the following week off to spend some time with your parents."
He looked over at her with one eyebrow raised, head tilted ever so slightly, "Wait a sec... when'd I -"
"I did it for you last month, since I know you haven't even thought about it in at least six"
"Why the -"
"Now this certainly isn't an exclusive deal, they asked every agent there to lend them a body, and the pay doesn't even hit your average, let alone the standard for rush jobs, they obviously know that some folks are desperate for gigs, and apparently the model that they need to replace wasn't costing them much anyways. However: Silverstone would be your first international company, and even though the immediate payoff wouldn't be standard, we couldn't buy a better chance for publicity over in the States if we tried. Silverstone runs merch which would fit you to a 't' and it might open up some new market opportunities for us."
"Then cancel the god damned reunion!"
She pushed through the front doors of the building and let it close behind her on him, he followed her out and they headed out into the parking lot. It was already dark, and the light from the street lamps turned everything a sultry orange. "Now I know how important your family is to you, "She paused in her steps for a second to give him a meaningful glance, "but as your agent I'm going to have to suggest that you postpone your 'vacation' in favor of the Silverstone job." He dropped his shoulders and rolled his eyes. She didn't look away.
"Look Sarah, I don't give a-"
"So I've already taken the liberty of replying to the offer." She stared at him for a moment more before starting again for her car, he quickly caught up, glowering silently at her. "Now despite you being relatively new to this business, they can't deny the kind of influence you've gained in such a short period of time. I doubt they'll turn you down,"
"Now wait a-"
"I've already added the times to your calendars. I'd suggest you keep the dates clear, because nothing you can possibly come up with should overshadow this, clear?" She reached into her bag and the lights of a nearby Senza flashed in the dark. She reached the door and turned on the feline behind her.
"Sahir, what the hell do you think I-"
"That means that you have the show in three days for Hanz, and if they don't call a follow-up shoot, a week break till the underwear shoot on the twentieth. By Hanz we'll know for sure whether or not you have the Silverstone job, but just plan on that for the twenty-third, and the follow up show on the thirtieth. If you can impress them then maybe you have some hope for something big. "
"Sah-"
"That means you have the next two days off. Get your head-fur trimmed, take a bath, and take some time off. I'll see you at Hanz with word on Silverstone. " She turned and opened the door, but Brahma pushed it closed before it had made it more than an inch. He leaned against the car door and stared angrily at her.
"What's got you so worked up, Goat?"
She turned to face him slowly, readjusting her glasses on the bridge of her muzzle. "Your mother called my office again today. They haven't seen or heard from you in almost a year. Your younger brother died from his pneumonia last week. They asked when your next time off was and I told them I didn't know. And now what time I had planned on is gone, which means they may have to wait another four months to see you." He stood up slowly, a confused look on his muzzle. "Now enjoy your night Brahma."
She opened the door and Brahma stepped to the side dumbly. There was a muted click as her key slid into the ignition, the rumble of the engine flaring to life, and the soft crunch of gravel as she rolled past him out of her parking spot, and out of the lot.
He stood there for a moment or two and digested the news. A nearby streetlamp flickered out. He walked back towards the auditorium, paws occasionally scuffing at the graveled parking lot just to break the silence. He reached the sidewalk without really registering it and approached the front doors. There was a lamppost lighting the entrance in an eerie glow, and beneath it was a bench and a trash can. He found himself staring at them blankly, mulling over his thoughts. There was a loud crash, and a jolt of pain as his footpaw made contact with the trashcan and it fell sidelong into the carefully landscaped bushes. He cursed under his breath and sat down hard on the bench, waiting for the ache in his toes to fade.
He glanced up a few minutes later and noticed a young mouse sitting on the curb a ways away looking towards him with silent interest. The fur around his eyes glistened in the lamplight, but the tears had stopped; he looked so small against the near-empty parking lot.
He noticed Brahma looking and tilted his head questioningly, and seemed like he was about to get up.
"The fuck are you gawkin' at rodent?" The mouse gave a visible start before turning around to stare out at the parking lot. "Damn straight you two-bit hack." Brahma was standing again, his hackles raised and his tail lashing agitatedly behind him. He almost approached to mouse, but caught himself in time. Instead, he stormed away from the mouse back out into the parking lot. He quickly unlocked his flashy silver Lamda and hopped in, gunning the engine a few times for good measure before speeding out of the lot, driving precariously close to the mouse seated on the curbside as he passed. He needed a night out. He needed some loud music and someone to make him feel good about himself. He pushed in a trance CD and cranked the volume, the loud throbbing of the music matching the throbbing in his skull.
He drove for ten minutes before he realized that he hadn't been driving anywhere in particular, the streets whizzing by, nameless and meaningless. His head felt fuzzy and congested, and for a moment, he thought about returning to his apartment, but the idea of him being home alone with nothing but his thoughts just...wasn't appealing. He checked the street signs at the next intersection and took a fast right, his tires squealing a bit as he took the turn faster than he probably should have. Seven minutes and a couple turns later he pulled onto a street lined side to side with cars. He had to drive two blocks out of the way before he found a parking spot he could use, but he pulled in and shifted the car into park, a minute or two of silence passing before he got out.
He locked the car by instinct and set off towards the club, which could be heard ever so faintly when the wind shifted just right. The warehouse it was in wasn't too expansive, but it served its purpose well enough, and he knew the pickings would be good enough on a night such as this.
He reached the door and was patted down by a fairly liberal Zebra, several areas getting checked twice. The muscular bouncer said something to him, but he couldn't make it out over the rhythmic thrum of the subwoofer.
"ID please." This time his voice was louder, more precise, and more insistent. He impatiently pulled it out and got the go ahead to enter, a nearby mink hastily putting an incandescent wristband on him and opening the doors. Brahma was buffeted by the heavy bass, but shirked his loose over-shirt lower on his shoulders, let his tail sway slowly to the beat, and donned his signature smirk, scanning the crowd for someone interesting to take home with him tonight.