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Blackpaw Inn

The place where I had been getting my morning coffee was a place called Blackpaw Inn. Superficially, it was almost devoid of warmth or anything that would traditionally be viewed as a "welcoming atmosphere." The walls had been painted with what perhaps had once been an "eggshell white," but they had been stained yellow by the ever-present cigarette smoke, which presently hung suspended in the frigid air. The floor had been painted over repeatedly with the same cheap, gray industrial paint. Most of the furnishings had been designed based on an utterly failed attempt at "modernism," and they had probably been thrown out by someone else for precisely that reason. These mixed with the worn, the stained and the shabby.

Usually, when I came here in the wee hours, I would see couples curled-up drunk and asleep on the floor, in every state of dress imaginable. They would stir eventually, and sometimes one who hadn't lost everything that he owned would wander to the bar to purchase some coffee, assuming the person tending the bar could be roused sufficiently--in the dead part of third-shift--to put some on. Typically, both parties would try to be apologetic for a few minutes, and they would eventually leave, either separately or together, depending upon whether any apologies had been warranted.

A wolf and tiger had wandered out this morning as I had arrived later than usual, right at quarter 'til 5 a.m., the wolf wearing a white wife-beater shirt, thick work-britches and steel-toed boots, and the tiger huddled in an ill-fitting heavy cotton work-jacket and nothing else. The wolf had been black-furred and especially muscular, and he either worked-out heavily or labored at a shipyard, most likely both. I hadn't been able to resist looking at the tiger's assets: he had had the most beautifully sculpted package that I had ever seen and an extraordinary ass. With the smug look the wolf had been wearing and the bemused and chagrined look on the tiger, it would have been pretty obvious what the score was, even without the wolf's man-grip around the tiger's waist. Knowing this place, it probably would have been hard to make a call on whether the liaison had started out as entirely consensual, but the tiger had seemed too inebriated to put up much resistance.

I myself am what they call a "folf," which means that I have both fox and wolf in my ancestry. I am a 3rd-generation mix at the very least, so I couldn't tell you the proportions even if I were to try. There was a great-grandmother whom everyone in the family said was part-wolverine; nobody, of course had ever said this to her face. My fur was overall brown-russet, but it was soft and creamy-colored on my chest and belly. My feet were digitigrade, so I went bare-pawed even here in the middle of February, thanks to thick, lupine pads that stayed tougher than any shoe. I had on a Bordeaux-red shirt and dark blue-jeans that came to just over the floor when I was standing, and on my back rested my knapsack, which contained my books and a rather beat-up laptop.

Having had my thrill for the morning, I had gone up to the bar to order my coffee, so I could get settled in to do some homework. I was later than usual, so there was a rabbit working it that I had seen there but never really had opportunity to talk to before the place got too busy for conversation.

"Up early?" asked the rabbit. Although the morning shift had just started, he had the sunny, cheerful disposition of a true morning person. He was a brown bunny with bright, hazel eyes and perky ears, and his teal work-shirt was starched and pressed well beyond company standards. He came across as one of those types of people who loved to work, and he probably loved to please even more.

I looked around for a moment, and I kind of shrugged. "I'm usually here earlier," I said. "I always have on the same shirt and--"

"Oh!" he interrupted. "Coffee-large-black-no-sugar-egg-cheese-biscuit!" he proclaimed, calling out the order I usually got later on in the morning, when I was in a mood for my second round of coffee, as if it were my proper name. It seemed strange because I was sure that a lot of people got the same order, but...

Come on, Brian! You're overthinking again! I stammered momentarily as I responded, "Ye-he-yeah-ss," I said. "Brian, actually," I clarified. "I just spent a while walking around this morning after the library at the university closed." In fact, I had only come in from my pacing because a cop had stopped to harass me.

He looked down as he went ahead and pulled me a large cup of coffee, and he answered, "Now, wait." He paused as he put a lid on the cup, and he pressed it over to me. "Doesn't it close at night?" he asked.

"Not until 3," I said. "I just catch some sleep there at night, and then it's just 45 minutes getting here after they kick everyone out."

He looked at me strangely. "So you sleep...there?" he said dumbly.

I shrugged. "Well, I just catch sleep wherever," I said, feeling uncomfortable as I put my paw around the steaming coffee-cup, trapped now between the two undesirable alternatives of insulting him by departing for my usual perch or staying, thereby potentially having to go into some seriously uncomfortable territory.

He went back to rubbing down the bar, apparently just for something to do. "You don't look homeless," he said numbly.

"Well," I stammered. I wasn't really sure how to explain to this guy that I was really just too cheap to take out a loan to pay for an apartment and not really desperate or anything. Even though I had somehow convinced the financial aid administrator that it wasn't viable to live off my parents anymore, which allowed me to file as an independent, the idea of going into debt gave me the heebie-jeebies. The rates on those loans were usurious, and I wanted no part in feeding that particular beast.

"You know, I really only come here to use your showers," I said.

The rabbit smirked up at me. "Those aren't really intended for bathing," he said.

I sighed inwardly. I had thought for a second that the little lapine was going to get Christianish and judgmental on me, but apparently he wasn't as much of a virgin as he appeared. Yes, I knew the "other" purpose of those concrete-floored showers. I was still a month shy of 20, but I wasn't a fool. Ironically, considering the setting, they were actually considerably cleaner than the showers at the YMCA in this town. My last time at the YMCA, I had picked up a serious fungal infection.

"But wait a minute," he continued before I could reply, "don't they have a rec center on-campus? My brother used to get me in there on guest-pass, and their facilities were pretty good."

I shook my head. "Not for me," I said. "Look, I don't go there full-time. I'm just taking a couple of labs there that transfer, and I'm really only registered full-time at State."

The rabbit looked puzzled. "But they're 300 miles away," he said. "How..." He looked as if something had just struck him, and he reached out with his paw. "I'm Gus, by the way."

I took the offered paw, and I clasped it in mine. "As I said, Brian," I replied. "Look, the way it works is that I'm ta--"

A large bear had appeared behind me as we were talking. "Hey, Gus," the bear said in an unnaturally soft tenor for a bear. "Um, excuse me, can I--?"

"Coffee-medium-cream-sugar-bagel-cream-cheese, chai-medium-raspberry-strudel," Gus called as he started to fill out the order. Apparently, some patrons always got the same thing, and he just filled them out automatically.

"Thanks," the bear said politely as Gus loaded the order up on a tray. After exchanging payment for change, the bear went over to join a tired-looking cougar who had sat down at one of the tables for two.

Gus's attention focused back on me, and he said, "Wait, you mean you take most of your classes online, right?"

"Yes," I replied.

Gus nodded. "Cool," he said, seeming sincere. "Look...Brian, I heard the management for here talking. The temp-workers we have had working 3rd shift for us on Mondays seem to like robbing the cash register, and the agency won't do much about it. If you'd let me write down your phone number, I could say we talked, and you looked trustworthy."

I put up my hands as I started to object, feeling guilty. I really hadn't meant to spill any problems on him, here. I didn't even think it was a problem. For heaven sake, coming out and burning down the enemy's bridges had left me feeling so liberated, I'd spent the last year and a half walking on a cloud. "Look, man, I can manage," I said, blushing furiously. Besides, I already had a modest income off a work-study position.

Gus got out a pen and paper anyway. "We really need someone for that position, man," he said. He put his paw up to his chest. "Look," he said. "I'm not going to disrespect you by offering charity or something. I figure I can help my boss, here, though, and that helps me, right?" He looked at me insistently.

I sighed aloud and shook my head, but I went ahead and gave the rabbit the number for my Skype account. I had just recently gotten it set up so that I could take messages on it. At least it would get me away from the bar, so I could get on some work.

When that was finished, Gus smiled brightly, and he said, "Hey, since you're coming in late, would you like to have your usual?"

---

At around 5 p.m. that evening, just as I was finishing some homework, my Skype began to ring.