The Furry MEGAPACK®

by Huskyteer

  “So you want me to hand it over to the new girl, Julia? Let them interpret that chicken-scratch for the teleprompter?”

  David hesitated when Emmett bent to take the speech, but relented. “Sure. She seems like a pretty capable girl. Had a great résumé. But I reserve the right to alter that up until an hour before I go on,” he added, pointing an admonishing finger. The effect was spoiled by his cell phone, however. When the lion saw Alex’s name he winced. By now it was a natural reaction.

  “Something wrong? You want me to leave?” David shook his head before really thinking about it. He could ignore the call, but that would be putting it off. What he really wanted was to make himself believe he didn’t have time for this anymore, but so far he hadn’t put his foot down hard enough. Alex was peeved, but he had no idea David had tried to end it so many times. Tact was not the man’s strong suit.

  David answered the call, letting Emmett know with his free paw it was okay to stay.

  “I don’t appreciate being ignored.” No hello, no preamble. Just drama.

  “I can’t talk about this now—”

  “Am I not good enough for you now?” Now that you’re running for president, his tone said. The idea was so ridiculous it was almost funny. Alex hadn’t not been good enough because there had never been a them. David now regretted staying quiet. But since throwing his hat into the race, the whirlwind had all but swept him away from any kind of normalcy.

  David said nothing, looking at Emmett, who shrugged and rolled his eyes. Finally: “This is really not a good time.”

  “It’s the perfect time, David. People’re gonna find out eventually.” Whether Alex was referring to the lion’s sexuality or their relationship was anyone’s guess. Both statements worried him, though. He realized he’d cupped his paw over the phone, and Emmett was looking curious. David guiltily removed it.

  “I’m working on a speech right now,” the lion said as flatly as he could. “You have no idea what I’m going through.”

  “And you have no right to treat me like shit just because you’re busy with your high-and-mighty job.”

  “You do realize what I’m trying to do, don’t you?” Somehow Alex wasn’t getting it. He couldn’t possibly be that dense.

  Even so, he deflected. “I’m sick of this.”

  “So am I.” And there it was, as honest as David could make it. He was sick of hoping against hope that Alex would take the hint and go away. The opposite should have been obvious months ago. But, like a dope, the lion had tricked himself into thinking things were one way when they were everything but.

  “I want to meet you for lunch,” Alex continued, his voice suddenly softer. “I wanna work this out.” Work it out? How? What was there left to say? He looked to Emmett, but the man only had a tired smirk on his face. A nice vote of confidence. Then again, this was David’s doing, and David’s alone.

  Sighing, he breathed in slowly and steadied himself. “Where would you like to meet? Hopefully in private.” In a flash, Emmett had his phone out, fingers hovering above the device, waiting for a name so he could arrange logistics.

  “Antonio’s on F Street?” Alex asked hopefully. “Where you took me that one Friday when we got caught in the rain?” The sheer nostalgia David heard made him shudder; they’d only had dinner together because the restaurant had a porte-cochère and it was the nearest place when it had started to pour. And then Alex was hungry. And so they had dinner. If what the lion heard was Alex’s memory of that mediocre evening, he realized he might not be dealing with a stable individual.

  “Antonio’s it is,” David said through a forced smile so it sounded genuine. “Make it quarter to one.”

  “I’ll be there.” And just like that, Alex was gone. David pocketed the phone and rubbed his forehead. Emmett was already on the phone with Antonio, arranging for a private room away from other diners.

  “You going to end it?” asked Emmett after he’d finished his own call. “Because now would be a pretty damn good time to do so.”

  David sat back in the chair, a sigh rumbling through his chest. His temples hurt. The campaign was less stressful than Alex’s haranguing. Now was the perfect time. The ever-present “how” never got easier, though. “It is a little out of hand, isn’t it?” Then he saw Emmett’s wan smile, the same smile since college, and had a disturbing thought. “How many people know besides you?”

  “Just me, right now. Julia might have to know, if she proves good enough to make it farther into the PR side of things. Just to be prepared for a surprise shot across our metaphorical bow. Anybody else who’s seen you with him probably wouldn’t think that far into it, unless they were some GOP stalker.”

  “They’d do that?”

  “Wouldn’t put it past the crazy ones. But we have intel people on our side too. They’re paid to look for things like that. I wouldn’t worry as much about that as I would about moving on with your life and your campaign with a clean slate, as it were.”

  “Hm,” David thought while rubbing his chin. “Why do I feel so exposed all of a sudden? Just pre-speech jitters, right?” He knew that was a lie even as he said it.

  “Could be.” The man leaned over the desk, looking into the world-weary eyes at the base of the dun-colored muzzle. “David, no one outside of these walls knows. Me, you know I don’t give a shit who you like. More than half the country doesn’t. I’d like to think running the U.S. is more a priority than whether or not the prez sucks dick. But while you’re there—and you will be—the job’s the thing. You can only go so far, you know?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re the trifecta of presidential non-traditions. You’re single, whoop-dee-doo. You’re morphic, which we both know is definitely a hurdle. And you’re gay, another whoop-dee-doo but no big deal if you keep it out of the public eye.”

  David almost balked. But then he leaned in as well. “You want me to hide it?”

  “Not hide it,” Emmett replied. “It just doesn’t need to come up. Why would it? You’re already running on diversity and all that; it should be good enough as is. You’re the nominee; that fact says that people aren’t as stodgy as they used to be, especially on the morphic thing. Being single is a little suspicious, but we can work around that.”

  “You’re kidding me. Buchanan was single when he entered office.”

  “Buchanan was almost certainly gay.”

  “Arthur certainly wasn’t.”

  “His wife died before he was elected. What’s your point?”

  “All right, all right,” David resigned, palms up. “I think I understand.”

  “They chose you because you’re the right man for the job,” Emmett said pointedly. “They want someone to lead them. They saw that in you and they took a chance on you because they want something more than just the same old rhetoric, same old shit. Hell, they’re still using ‘hope and change’ as a euphemism for meaningless promises. You’re a lion, so what, lions lead all the time. All right, you’re single, nothing to fear there because you don’t have family in the way. But Alex is a fly in your ointment. Or he could be.”

  David narrowed his eyes, but he could already see Emmett’s logic. “You think it would be pushing too far.”

  “Not exactly.” Emmett was now pacing, one hand behind his back while the other gesticulated as he talked. “It doesn’t matter that he’s a guy. What matters more is that you’d basically be dating while trying to run for president. How does that look?” He stopped. “Okay, it does matter. It matters to some of the swing voters and even some Republicans. Image is everything, we both know that.”

  “But you still want me to hide who I am.” Just because the lion was beginning to understand Emmett’s logic, didn’t mean he liked it. His tail lashed about underneath his chair. He was uncomfortable with this conversation, but it was necessary. And he trusted his friend.

  “You make it sound awful, you know that? In terms of this election year, it’s too far too fast. Gain their trust by being
a great nominee. Then you can prove yourself once you’re in office. We aren’t talking about your love life, David. This Alex guy isn’t boyfriend material. Not even close.” Once again, Emmett was right.

  Leaning forward, muzzle propped on his paws, David said, “I was already going to do it. Cut it off, I mean.”

  “At lunch?”

  “Yes. I mean, I had been meaning to for a while. But something kept me from doing it. First it was nice, but that’s all it was. Then I was placating him. I don’t know why I didn’t end it sooner.”

  “Because you’re just as imperfect as the rest of us,” Emmett said softly. “Probably why you’d make such a good president. At least you recognize when to snuff out a problem.”

  “Those aren’t the words I’d use…but I get it. Still, Alex aside, I find it mildly horrifying that you’re asking me to put my sexuality on hold while I run the country.”

  “Your words, not mine. It’s really nothing different from any other president in history. It’s at least a four-year commitment, during which some things need to fade into the background while the important things get taken care of.” David could tell Emmett wasn’t entirely comfortable with his own word choice. At the same time, though, he couldn’t deny the cold truth of it. The question was, where did his priorities lie?

  David kept his tone low. “And what if it comes out anyway? What if he—not just Alex, but anybody—goes crazy and tries to pin me down?”

  Emmett sounded almost conspiratorial now: “Let’s get in there first and worry about that when we come to it. There’s only so much we can do with what we know now. Most of it is up to you doing what needs done and saying what needs said.”

  “This is going to be one uncomfortable lunch.”

  “You’re in a private room, so you won’t have to worry about oglers. You’ll be going in through the back, just in case.”

  “Yeah, just in case.”

  “It’s about that time, too. I’ll call for the car.” Emmett brought his phone back out, but paused in the middle of dialing. “David?”

  “Yeah?” the lion asked wearily.

  “You ever love him?”

  “No.” The word was spoken as quick and simple as its construction, because it was the truth. It did little to assuage the nagging guilt in the back of David’s mind.

  “Okay.” Emmett nodded before letting himself out.

  * * * *

  David slumps back into the folding chair that looks too small to contain his bulky frame, and sighs. The steak is settling nicely, suffusing him with a satisfaction he hasn’t felt in quite some time. He will have to buy Julia a nice dinner, or give her a raise. Maybe both. Both phones are off, his earpiece in, his speech ready…all that’s left is to go out there and face the people.

  “She couldn’t get me a steak too?” Emmett pouts from his chair. “A paltry sirloin would’ve sufficed.” He takes a bite of a hot dog. “These are okay, but still.”

  “I’m the star, remember?” David retorts, licking his chops. Damn, just the right balance of salt and pepper. He is surprised by how easily the word left his lips.

  “My nerves are just as shot as yours. I could use some energy just as much as you. And not from that coffee pot; it makes me shaky.” Emmett talks evenly but he’s wringing his tie. “After all this time, you’re gonna tell me you’re finally relaxing?”

  “‘Relaxed’ wouldn’t be my first choice, but yeah,” says David. “Resigned, maybe. The calm before the storm.”

  “I think you’ll do fine. Unless you decide to chicken out in the next ten minutes.” He hands over the hard copy of the speech’s final draft, the last word if there ever was one.

  “This lion is no coward. Fat chance.”

  “You know, they won’t call it until you get a concession phone call.”

  David takes the papers and stands, fastening his coat and tucking his tie back into place. “He’s just holding out for show like the old fogey he is. You saw the numbers just like I did. Two-seventy is two-seventy. Even if it’s closer than we think, the west coast will roll us over the top. Besides, some of those people out there want to go to bed, and they won’t unless I come out there and speak. We all have work tomorrow. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” Emmett lets the lion go, and David begins to pace slowly but resolutely, mouthing words and waving his paw in the right places so his emphasis is umistakable.

  Shortly thereafter an aide approaches, reaching for the pages. David jerks back. “I still have time, Jeffery! Let me practice,” he says jokingly.

  Jeffery backs away, bowing. “Sorry, sir. Five minutes, Mr. President.”

  “Wait three months and then you can call me that,” David reminds the man.

  “Yes, sir.” These people mean business, David has time to think before hears the smooth, even baritone of a professional announcer.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, your attention please,” the man speaks calmly and cleanly with the slight buck-toothed whisper of a beaver. But his booming timbre is perfect for a job like this. “President-elect of the United States, David Kibber.” No lead-up, no announcement, just plain-Jane and unpretentious, like the rest of David’s campaign. Perfect.

  The ten thousand or so people gathered in the clearing on the narrow strip of land erupt in a din so loud that it drowns out a departing plane overhead. David pushes apart the purple velour and emerges like the sun from behind a storm cloud, his fur groomed and his mane full and shining under the lights. Gravelly Point Park is a living thing, writhing and pulsating with the lives of voters who cared enough about the future of their country to take a chance and elect a lion as their leader. Smiling as he starts down the thirty-foot catwalk, he raises his right paw and waves, unable to stop himself from grinning like a fool.

  He almost doesn’t notice the crackling in his ear, and he definitely doesn’t expect the code words that immediately follow: “PEOTUS Red, PEOTUS Red!” He hasn’t even started to react by the time he hears the gunshot.

  * * * *

  Alex had an indignant grin on his face like he already knew this lunch would go in his favor. They sat in a corner booth in the back room of Antonio’s that was usually reserved for parties. A basket of bread and a plate of oil and cracked pepper sat between them. Antonio himself had volunteered to serve them, just to make things easier. But not even the soft Italian music coming from the ceiling did much to ease David’s increasingly dour mood.

  And Alex had that look.

  David ordered for the both of them, garnering no complaints, then propped his muzzle on his paws and stared at the person who never was, and never would be, his boyfriend.

  Alex sighed. “I don’t expect you invited me to lunch to apologize, though that’s usually how these things go,” he said evenly. “One of two ways, at least.” His tone indicated he hoped it wasn’t the latter, unspoken, choice.

  “No, I didn’t,” the lion returned just as evenly. He hadn’t thought of what to say, and winging it was not his strong suit. Though far too late to worry about finding the right words, David was still (albeit unduly) concerned about hurting Alex’s feelings.

  “Why the back-room antics?” It was just a question, not an accusation. Yet.

  David idly traced a claw over the linen tablecloth, stopping when it caught and pulled a thread. “I thought you’d appreciate the privacy.”

  “Or you don’t want anyone seeing us together.”

  “As of this past weekend, everything I do or have done is under a microscope now.” David idly wished his entrée would arrive so he could be at least a bit distracted. Bread did nothing for him, but Antonio’s famous lasagna sure would.

  “Why don’t you want it getting out?”

  Emmett’s speech to him just an hour before came back with surprising clarity. The words that had sounded so practical back then lost some of their strength in Alex’s presence, though. Played back in his head, they sounded downright cold. “Don’t assume because I want to keep something hidden, that means I’m ashamed of
it.”

  “How am I supposed to believe you, here, in this empty room safe from prying ears?” Alex’s words were accusatory but his voice was calm. They hadn’t seen each other in so long, maybe he’d had time to think about the bigger picture. But David couldn’t take any of that for granted.

  “Believe it or not, this is what’s best.”

  Alex leaned over the table and pointed an accusatory finger at the lion. It trembled. “Bullshit.”

  “It’s better for both of us.” It had been so easy to say those words, too, just an extension of how he felt manifested into speech before he could stop. At least it was out there, bare on its face. He didn’t even regret the tinge of snark he heard.

  Alex shrank back in his chair just as Antonio came out with the entrées. He set them down. “Signori,” he mumbled, and left when David waved him off silently, obviously curious but wise enough to stay well away. The lion smelled the beef and ricotta cheese and dug into his first food of the day. Alex stared at his spinach tortellini, his eyes shining, then brimming.

  “You know, when you said you were going to try and run, I felt so happy for you. ‘I’m going to vote for this man,’ I thought. ‘I’m going to vote for him because I believe in him, and he’ll make a difference in this stinking country. He knows what it’s like.’ Now I’m not so sure.”

  When David didn’t answer, Alex continued, his cheeks damp. “One night, when you fell asleep after…you know…I had this crazy thought. I thought, ‘I could marry this man. He’ll add a species clause to the Equal Marriage Act and push it through and we’ll have a big wedding on the lawn right in the middle of town. Pretty crazy, isn’t it?”

  It was pretty crazy. He judged his next words carefully. “I knew you were passionate. I never thought you were crazy, though that does sound a bit out there.”

  “I told you that first night how much of an ideologue I was.”

  Only halfway through his food, David lost his appetite. “Alex…you’re a great person. You’re going to make someone very happy—”

  “But it’s not going to be you. Yeah, I know when I’m getting dumped.” Dumped? There had to have been a relationship for this to be a breakup. But Alex’s beliefs were merely conjecture. The fence was quickly becoming a tightrope.