by RJ Blain
“She don’t know nothin’ about him; I told him he’d be wise to steer clear. She’d take his balls for a trophy, wait for them to rot, and then feed them to him if he barked up her tree. As you say, she don’t like cheaters none at all, not even when the partner is in on it. One plus one is two with her, and the only additions to that come nine months later.”
I recognized a hint when I heard one, although I doubted I’d be helping him with his grandchildren problem anytime soon. “How long ago did Sterling come around asking about Sassy?”
Sassy’s father waved off my concern. “Don’t you worry yourself about it, Aaron. That man’s been looking for pretty young men and women since he was a pretty young man himself. He aged, his interests didn’t. But he is a stickler for consent and only plays ball with people who don’t mind getting into the line of fire with him if a scandal pops up. It’s a game to him and his partners. People try to nail him on a scandal, and he’ll show up with his wife and the person accused, and they’ll make out on the street corner together until someone takes their picture. It’s hard to make it a scandal when none of the participants care. Add in the fact he lands pretty young men and women, and he ultimately gets nods of approval from those who want to join the swingers, too. Sure, the religious and ultra conservative hate him, but it’s not like they were voting for him anyway.”
I foresaw a headache in my future. “My hire’s basically wasting his time and money trying to sink Sterling, then.”
“Easy cash for you and my kitten. You don’t get the easy jobs often, so be happy with this one. It’s nothing new. Hell, he’s probably been looking for younger partners since you were in diapers. It’ll be easy to dig up current photos of him with young women who look more like younger girls, and if you want to make it spicy for him, I can give you a long list of names within the coalition who’d love to have fun with the religious conservatives. They hate us anyway.”
“Of course.” Cheetah lycanthropes couldn’t act more gay if they tried, and some did just because they were cats who enjoyed offending delicate sensibilities. “What do you suggest?”
“I’ll ask around the coalition and put out some feelers. That should land you some good pictures Sterling knows about. It’ll let you keep your reputation intact and pass over good intel without screwing the senator over. It’s easy to prove he’s done no wrong doing, but it sure looks bad at first blush.”
“Want my job? I think you could do it better than I can right now.”
“That’s what us old men do, son. We drink beer and gossip, and there ain’t nothing as entertaining as talking about the talkers and learning who cheated who. If you need dirt on the local politicians, just ask. We’re cats. We live to poke our noses in places we don’t belong.”
Interesting. As I’d already unveiled a little too much, I’d toe the wrong side of the line for a change. “What can you tell me about Tom Heatherow?”
“Steer clear of that one. He’ll do anything to win. He’s the kind of talker we hate the most. If he ever had a sense of decency or ethics, he’s never showed sign of them during his dealings. Well, not quite. When it comes to money matters, his word is good. But if you don’t have it in writing, except a slow fuck, and I don’t mean the good kind.”
Great. I needed to review the contract again and make certain we kept to the letter and the spirit of the damned thing. “Nice to know. Anything interesting on the campaign front?”
“Not particularly. It’ll be a few weeks before the first shots are fired. Should make for interesting news.”
“Let me know if you hear anything.”
“Will do. I’ll tip off my little kitten if there’s anything good on the grapevine.”
“Thanks. I’ll owe you one.”
“Nonsense. I’m going to owe you one for settling my little kitten down, and don’t you be tellin’ a soul I said that. I’ll deny, deny, deny.”
He would, too.
Paranoia didn’t usually dictate my actions, but when Sassy’s father openly disliked someone and issued warnings to take care, the wise listened. To cover my ass, I loaded the photos I’d taken to the gallery I shared with Sassy and backed them up to several different servers. I repeated the process with the finalized contract and sent Sassy a message relaying her father’s advice.
Satisfied I’d done everything I could for the moment, I took my tools to the truck along with some rope to lash down any oversized supplies Sassy’s father might need, rolled up the cover, and stored it in the cab in case we needed it.
“We’re going to be late,” I predicted, doing my last check of the truck. After having lost one windshield to a dick who hadn’t secured his tools in his bed, I’d decided I wouldn’t be that man. If it went into my truck, it stayed in my truck until I was ready to remove it.
“Don’t you worry about it. The brats know we’re headed to the lumber yard. I heard that older one cackle over it. Says I couldn’t keep it to an hour at the lumber yard even if I tried, and he promised to make you a good cup of coffee as a reward for putting up with me and my shopping.”
Of Sassy’s brothers, only Charlie would make me coffee the way I liked it. The rest of them tried to top their father’s tactics of creating poison disguised as coffee. The gesture was more up Dean’s alley, so I assumed the pair was working together to prevent me from running away after dealing with their father at the lumber yard.
“Which yard am I taking you to?”
“Let’s hit the one in North Dallas off the 75. They’re running a sale.”
With luck, traffic wouldn’t add an extra hour to our trip, and I hopped into the cab, waited for her father to buckle in, and started the engine.
I loved the growl of a good diesel, and my truck delivered each and every time. If I hadn’t had an audience, I would’ve spent a few minutes listening, and when confident no one watched, I would’ve pet the dashboard.
While a few years old and painted silver because I couldn’t find a good used diesel on the lot in any other color, when someone needed a good truck that could handle some heavy loads, they were wise to come knocking on my door.
“We’re inevitably going to scratch your truck putting him through his paces,” Sassy’s father announced. “What’s his name again? Carl?”
“Carlos. Carlos is a good, strong name for a good, strong truck. That, plus every damned Carlos I’ve ever met could kick my ass in a fight. I learned my lesson well: don’t mess with anyone named Carlos. And anyway, don’t you worry about his battle scars. I cover them with a paint pen once a month.”
“There’ll be dents, too. What’ll you do about them?”
“I know a guy.”
“If you spoil my little kitten like you do this truck, she’ll be insufferable.”
Considering I’d willingly poured chocolate syrup over my head and endured several hours of tongue bath to try to make her happy, I couldn’t imagine a world without an insufferably spoiled Sassy in it. “Should she become insufferable, does that mean she’ll get to dodge the monthly barbecues?”
“No. It’ll just mean she’ll annoy us more at them, showing you off like we’ve never seen your ugly mug before.”
“You make it sound like I’ll be attending the monthly barbecues.”
“Your truck can haul the coolers better than mine. That’ll be your price of admission. My little kitten makes pies because it keeps her quiet for more than a few minutes.”
“You say that like it’s a good thing.”
“I see there’s no hope left for you. Perhaps I should’ve taken the initiative. How many months of whining might I have avoided had I taken the initiative?”
“Count the number of failed dates for a good estimate,” I suggested.
“Ain’t nobody got time for that.”
I chuckled and navigated through the max of side streets to reach the 75, grunting my satisfaction over the flowing traffic. Any time the highway treated me well, I called it a good day. “While true, don’t tell Sassy that.
”
“I don’t got a death wish this week. It’ll be rough enough calming her down. Until you’re shifting, she’ll freak if you stub your toe. With the size of our family, we’ll get you down to fifteen years max. Maybe ten if we push our luck.”
Last I’d checked, most estimates for the full development of the lycanthropy virus rang in closer to forty years. “How?”
“Transfusions. We’ve got someone of every blood type in the coalition. If you’re a common blood type, we might even have you shifting in a few years, as long as you’re compatible with Sassy.”
“We’re the same blood type,” I admitted. “We had our blood type tested in case of emergency. Mostly to see if I could give her a transfusion, but turns out we have the same blood type.”
“Then that means you’re my blood type, and you’ll be set. We’ll jumpstart your virus, so we’ll only be limited in how often Sassy can donate without tapping her virus. Once your virus is matching hers, she’ll start getting touchy about anyone coming near you. Having a few cubs will settle her down. I give it two years before she goes loco and corners you. If you surrender now, I can fill her ears with hostage situation locations you might enjoy.”
“I’ve always wanted to go to Hawaii,” I admitted. “Seems like if I’m going to be held hostage, getting in some surf and sun in an exotic location seems like the way to go about it.”
“It’d also make it difficult for you to run away. She can pitch it as a vacation and transform it into a kidnapping and hostage situation. That’ll work. I’ll have her mother work the idea into her head. We’ll help her along with a pair of tickets for Christmas in a year or two. Mind you, before she snaps and goes loco. She’s stubborn, so she’ll need some nudging in the right direction.”
“How long have you been planning grandchildren?”
“Oh, I reckon I started when I figured out she’d picked you and couldn’t figure out how to land you. I’ve been entertained.”
In more ways than I cared to think about, marriage to Sassy meant marriage to her family and the entirety of the colony, which was formed of multiple male-centric coalitions that overlapped thanks to the promiscuous nature of unmated cheetah males. At last count, the entire state had six women, only two of which were able to shapeshift. The other four infected women, still several decades from their first shift and trying to claim a male without having to resort to kidnapping and taking hostages.
I wished them the best of luck. They’d need it.
Sassy represented the only woman of her generation in the colony, and it still amazed me she hadn’t been able to find a cheetah.
I shook my head at the utterly feline situation. My hopes of getting to North Dallas without hitting a traffic snarl died within ten minutes, and I grunted at the honking of horns. Most targeted a semi going well below the speed limit in the center lane. I changed to the fast lane, accelerated to the speed limit, and kept an eye on my side mirror and the center lane for my first chance to pass without being a dick about it.
Most Texans would’ve settled with being a dick about it, but I respected the weight and raw power of my truck, which could pulverize a small family car without much effort. Responsible driving helped make certain my truck stayed in pristine condition, too.
I left people alone, and they left me alone, which I found to be an ideal situation.
The semi’s driver decided he had a gas pedal, inching up enough that I abandoned my effort to pass without breaking the speed limit, opting to wait for him to move along and return to the center lane where I belonged.
“No sane cop’ll ticket you for going five over.”
I just loved when someone, especially my future father-in-law, told me how to drive. “I have rope in the back. Surely a cheetah can run fast enough to keep up with me and my slow ways.”
“I will pay good money to watch you say that to my little kitten.”
I grinned and kept an eye on the semi, which pulled up alongside me. Traffic slowed ahead, boxing me in, and I drummed my fingers against the steering wheel while waiting for the inevitable slow grind to a halt. “Well, isn’t this just delightful.”
“You seem to have developed a concerning case of British.”
“That’s my grandfather’s fault,” I replied, keeping an eye on the vehicle ahead of me with a tendency to treat the brakes like they were meant to be slammed every other minute. “He comes overseas once a year and tries to brush his accent off on us.”
Traffic resumed motion, and I eased my truck back up to speed, expecting someone to do something stupid to slow us all down again.
So focused on the vehicles ahead and behind me, I didn’t notice the semi swerve into my lane until it was too late. Metal screamed against concrete with a shower of sparks before everything went black.
Chapter Six
A dim memory of throbbing pain in my throat, the fumes of leaking diesel and smoke, and waves of heat chased me from sleep. If a memory, it lacked the substance I expected, but I’d never dreamed of anything quite so real before.
Too much seemed real, but the lack of physical feeling cast everything in doubt.
I considered the issue and decided it didn’t matter; memories and dreams couldn’t physically hurt me, and time would dull the edge of any memories in the same way popping a few painkillers eased a headache. When I followed that logic, odd that it was, it didn’t matter if I smelled diesel and smoke. The waves of heat worried me. That fringed uncomfortably close to the physical, which in turn could become reality.
I focused on the vivid details, hunting for actual memories rather than the hazy recollections of a dream. The throbbing in my throat, the stench of smoke and diesel, and the heat led me back to one place: my truck, the 75, and an unplanned trip to a lumber yard.
One by one, my memories filtered through the fog in my head, and I didn’t appreciate them at all.
Big trucks crunched under the full force of a semi, and the memory slammed into me rather like my poor pickup had crashed into the median. That explained a lot.
Car accidents sucked.
A car accident, or in my case, a truck on truck demolition derby, explained a lot. My death certificate would cite an infuriated cheetah as the cause of my demise. With luck, I’d be pumped so full of drugs I wouldn’t feel a thing when Sassy got a hold of me.
The last time I’d landed in the hospital, a released convict had taken a few pot shots at me; the defense attorney hadn’t expected me to uncover evidence the bastard deserved longer than the two years he’d served for murder. That job had been the one to earn me a blacklist among the attorneys, as they hated when they got the case wrong and their own hires proved it. I expected to cool my heels and work outside of the law system for a few more years over it, too.
Some lawyers needed the win more than they wanted justice to be properly served.
Hospital-grade painkillers explained a lot. The damned things left me in a daze, prone to drifting off mid-sentence, and incapable of maintaining coherent thought for more than a few minutes at a time. With my luck, when I finally got around to opening my eyes, I’d face a disconcerting number of hallucinations. Some hallucinations were easier to cope with than others. Even drugged, I tended to recognize that a rabbit made of glitter and blood didn’t actually exist.
Sassy found my odd ability to identify the absurd while drugged amusing, and she attempted to confuse me by bringing the absurd into my personal space and testing if I could tell the difference between a drug-induced hallucination and reality.
Opening my eyes took enough effort I contemplated giving up and letting the drugs have their way with me. Before I could do just that, the drag of a rough cheetah tongue over my cheek killed any hope of escaping back into sleep.
Ouch.
Someone needed to tell Sassy her tongue classified as a torture implement when used on my face.
Sassy’s purrs rumbled, and she exchanged her tongue for her cold, wet nose. I waited for the inevitable, and sure enough,
she licked my cheek again.
My uncooperative body, with the help of hospital-grade drugs, refused to do my bidding, leaving me easy prey for the feline’s affections.
“Sassy, leave part of his face intact. You do not need to lick his cheek off. Licking him isn’t going to wake him up faster. The doctors said sometime today, so knock it off. You should be grateful they’re letting you shed all over the hospital room.”
I marked Sassy’s father off my list of things to worry about. Then again, lycanthropes were a lot more durable than run of the mill humans like me.
Sassy growled.
“Now look here, missy. You’re only in here because the doctors like his vitals and body temp when you keep him company. Your job is to lie there, be quiet, and purr. Behave. Leave his face alone.”
For a moment, I thought she might actually listen to her father, but then she chirped. I interpreted the sound as one of defiance, as when left with no other recourse, Sassy talked back. Talking back always got her into trouble, but when in doubt, Sassy sassed.
Someone needed to tell her father I liked when Sassy sassed and to stop discouraging her from sassing in my presence.
“I mean it, Sastria. You’re going to wake him up pawing all over him like you are, and he’ll probably be startled, then he’ll try to react, but with that tube still stuck down his throat, he’ll just make himself even more miserable. Will it make you feel better if I ask one of the nurses to check in on him again? I know they haven’t been around for a while, but that’s because he’s improving. No news is good news right now.”
Sassy chirped again, more inquisitive in nature than defiant.
“All right, all right. I’ll go pester a nurse for you. Yowl if you need me, and mind all those gadgets he’s hooked up to. No pawing, and keep your displays of affection to nuzzling. No teeth, no claws, and try to leave him a few layers of skin.”
In a classic Sassy stunt, she placed her paw on my chest. The pressure hurt enough to cut through the haze in my head, and my body chose that moment to report a myriad of stronger pains, the worst of which throbbed in my throat. In a way, the pain reassured me; numbness typically accompanied full paralysis, a terrifying consequence of neck injuries. My arms and legs filed their protests along with my chest and throat, another sign I’d recover from the crash.