“Dad,” Cory Ross said, “the way you set up your will leaves all of your properties, including Ross Chevrolet, to Trudy and me. How about if we keep things running pretty much as they are now, with S’leen managing the estate and the mountain cabin under my patronage, as my agent. I have my military career to pursue and Trudy has her family and business in Seattle to see to, so neither of us can spend much more than an occasional weekend at either house. As far as the dealership’s concerned, Lisa should be able to do a fine job there as its new general manager.”
Lisa Thomas squeaked around a mouthful of salad but Cory Ross kept on talking. “In fact, why don’t we have Lisa act as your patron? That way you’ll have a reason to hang around the store and secretly coach her while she’s getting up to speed on running the operation. Hell, if she doesn’t have a husband, a steady boyfriend or kids, she could even live in the house with you and S’leen!” He looked expectantly at the woman; she looked back at him, then at the dark-furred alien seated at the table. Her expression was, to put it bluntly, one of shock.
Ignoring the turmoil around him, Jack Ross took his first hearty bite of salad and suddenly seemed engrossed in the experience. “Damn!” he exclaimed. “This stuff is…is wonderful! Who would have ever thought that ‘rabbit food’ would taste so good!” That seemingly innocent comment broke the tension and all the humans laughed, although the joke was lost on the aliens.
Several moments passed and Jack Ross seemed lost in thought as he enthusiastically enjoyed his meal. Suddenly he jolted in his chair and screamed, spraying bits of partly-chewed salad onto the table. Most of the diners immediately feared he was having some kind of unforeseen reaction to the transference. Yet after a few moments of watching his agonized expression and listening to him moan, S’leen suddenly asked, “Did you bite your tongue?”
Ross’ large golden eyes were watering, and a thin line of drool was leaking from his slack mouth. After a few moments he more or less got himself under control, then husked, “How…how did you know?”
“Our children often do that when first learning to eat solid food,” she stated, smiling. “While you are an adult in body, you are still very much a child in many matters.”
“That hurt so bad,” he stated as he hastily cleaned up his mess, “it wouldn’t surprise me to find that I’ve wet my pants.” He made a show of checking the front of his shorts, to the all around accompaniment of nervous, good-natured laughter. “Well, at least I’m ‘adult’ enough not to have that problem.”
A few moments later he shoved a small forkful of salad into his mouth and began chewing—carefully!
After he had successfully navigated about half his meal Jack Ross casually said (after swallowing), “Cory, before we were so rudely interrupted by my incompetent dining, you offered my services to Lisa, both as an advisor in running Ross Chevrolet and as a possible residential companion, helping S’leen manage my old estate. Son, unless things have changed in the past week or so, Lisa already has a steady squeeze, so having me pose as a live-in ‘squeak toy’ won’t fly. Neither would my coaching her on the sly at the dealership; too many people would ask too many questions. Still, I think there’s a way around all that.” He smiled at Lisa Thomas, then ventured, “How about it, Kid? Want to see how the business runs from the other side of the desk? Just think: The next time he pisses you off, you could tell that obnoxious little shit Daryl Polk to take a hike and have the power to make it happen.” Thomas never suspected that Ross knew just how much she despised the rude young salesman.
“Look at it this way, Lisa,” Jack Ross stated. “I can’t go back and run things like I used to. As my heirs’ appointed general manager you can front for me until you’re up to speed and comfortable in the hot seat, then it’ll be yours to manage ‘for real’.” He winked at her and added, “Who knows, you might even decide that having a randy alien buck for a companion is more fun than putting up with your current flame and his annoying ex-wife.”
Thomas turned bright red with embarrassment, which only added to Jack Ross’ amusement. “Understand,” he sternly admonished, “that Patrons has strict abuse clauses in the contract. You can’t just have me around for, well, you know.” He raised his furry eyebrows, whistled through his front teeth and winked again, causing her even more embarrassment.
“Jack, that’s rude!” S’leen exclaimed, quickly catching Ross’ ribald innuendo. Then, however, she sat quietly, suddenly fearing that she had stepped out of line by making critical public comments about her former patron, now a male of her own species. This did not go unnoticed by the ‘new’ H’kaah.
“Dear,” he gently said, “I’ve been trading good-natured barbs with Lisa for years, and what you probably don’t know is that she gives as good as she gets. When I least expect it she’ll nail my furry hide to the wall, and there won’t be a damned thing I’ll be able to do about it.”
He reached over and stroked S’leen’s left cheek, saying, “It’s just like what you do to me.” When she looked confused he offered, “From the first time I laid eyes on you, you’ve ‘nailed my hide to the wall’ time and time again.” He smiled wistfully, adding, “Even now, I don’t see that changing unless you want it to.”
Once again Jack Ross had caught her off-guard with one of his matter-of-fact remarks, yet all he would say in response to her imploring look was, “We have a lot to discuss—later.”
He finished his salad and took a long drink of water, then asked Teddy Shapiro, “How quickly can you process me through the Patrons facility on Earth? There’s a lot of work waiting for me, but if I’m to have an airtight new identity there has to be a solid ‘paper trail’ from the H’kaah homeworld through the program, ending with Lisa.”
“The sooner you get your hairy ass in gear, Jack,” the man said, grinning, “the quicker we’ll have the formalities behind us.” He frowned in concentration for a moment, then added, “Figure on about three days maximum, then Lisa can pick you up and take you home.”
“Not by the ears, I hope,” he quipped dryly, and was answered by sputtering laughter from the human contingent at the table. Then, after a pause, a strange look crossed Ross’ non-human face. “What about funeral services for the ‘dearly departed’? That’s a matter that really should be put to rest, don’t you think?”
“Oh shit,” Green said, his eyes wide. “We’d completely forgotten about that. If we’re going to take this route, and there’s no funeral, some folks might not believe you’re, um, actually dead—which, of course,” he hastily added, “you’re not.”
“Arrange a graveside-only service for the day Lisa takes me home,” Jack Ross stated after a moment’s thought, “and make sure all the media outlets carry the story of how Jack Ross was shot in his home by intruders, and ultimately died in the hospital from the wounds. Let’s see,” he said, then stated in a radio announcer’s voice, “‘Despite the severity and nature of the wounds, the family offers those desiring to personally pay their respects to the memory of Jack Ross an opportunity to do so at a pre-burial viewing. Following that, the graveside service will be short and dignified as befitting a man of his business stature.’” He looked at the others in the room and got only confused stares in return. “We’ll temporarily take my old body back home, and since it’s in stasis, it should pass muster as a corpse.” Suddenly the confusion changed to understanding, and he got smiles and nods all around.
“And one more thing: I’ll be there, too.”
Shapiro was in the middle of taking a drink of water, and he suddenly choked, coughed and sprayed water and bits of salad across the table. Pandemonium erupted in the room as humans and aliens alike reacted to the dark-furred H’kaah’s unexpected revelation. Into the chaos Jack Ross’ clear, strong voice demanded attention, and in time that attention was grudgingly granted.
“You all seem to think my attendance at such an emotionally charged social event would be dangerous,” he challenged, “but I say you’re overreacting. ‘Jack Ross’ is dead. If I ca
n accept it then it’s high time everybody else accepts it. All the people in the entire UNIVERSE who know the identity of the person hiding inside this…this fursuit number less than thirty, and to my knowledge not a single one counts as an enemy.” He at least had their attention, but he knew that wasn’t enough.
“The public knows that Jack Ross was closely associated with at least one H’kaah, and that he knew several others both personally and through business associates. Not seeing at least a few H’kaah at his funeral would seem odd, while having an extra alien or two at the service shouldn’t even raise an eyebrow.” He was winning; several in the room had unconsciously nodded in agreement.
“The hardest part of this entire thing will fall on your shoulders,” he stated to his friends and family. “You’re going to have to ‘fake it’, to play the part of genuine mourners while knowing that the former ‘owner’ of the body in the coffin is standing a few feet away. S’leen,” he said, directing his comments to the honey-blonde-furred female, “your part in this charade is going to be the toughest. Since you were the deceased’s companion, you need to be seated with the immediate family, and like it or not, all eyes will be on you.” Already she didn’t like it. “If you sit there like a lump and show no emotion the public will think H’kaah companions are cold and unfeeling, and that would be very bad publicity. But if you show too much emotion to the passing of who was, to you, an alien, the public will suspect that something’s not quite as it appears. They won’t smell an H’kaah,” he said dramatically, “they’ll smell a rat.”
* * *
With dinner completed and Jack Ross thoroughly checked out by the Mn’rii scientists, the group of H’kaah and humans—with a coffin-shaped container strapped to the otherwise empty stretcher—boarded Jane for the quick trip back to Earth. Seating was even more of a problem on the return trip with the addition of the muscular black-furred male H’kaah form.
“I, uh, guess you’ll be taking the pilot’s seat, Dad,” Cory Ross told the dark furred alien, but was surprised when the H’kaah shook his big-eared head.
“You did a fine job chauffeuring us here,” the former human said, “so I don’t see any reason to change that now. Besides, my reflexes and eyesight are different now, and without practice I don’t dare trust my so-called piloting talents.” He laughed, then added, “You’re also forgetting: Jack Ross was licensed to fly a ship, and even to drive a car. I’m not. Hell, until I have a name I don’t even exist!”
Shapiro pulled out a tiny pocket computer and said, “You’ll have a plausible identity by the time we’re back home, Jack, but you’re gonna have to come up with some kind of name for me to hang it on.” The man belted himself into a position on the end of the wide bench seat in the back of the ship and pulled up a screen full of data on the tiny machine.
“Any ideas?” Jack Ross ventured to his friends as he belted himself into a position on the other end of the van-style seat. Reaching out, he gently pulled S’leen down to sit sideways on his lap. “If you behave yourself, wench, I might not have a problem with this arrangement,” but as soon as he said it a problem began to manifest itself. She felt a pressure against the side of her thigh and saw the front of his white satin shorts pressed against her. “Oops,” he said in a soft whisper only S’leen heard. “I think you’re still close enough to your last estrus cycle to have some traces of pheromones left in your fur. Hop up so we can make some different seating arrangements.”
Green was directed to belt himself into the seat Ross had vacated, then the two H’kaah wrapped their arms and legs around Green’s lower legs. “I feel like a damned dog,” Ross complained to the older man, who was grinning like a mischievous child. “You know, the one that comes up and embarrasses you by humping your leg while you’re visiting his owner.”
“Jack,” Green said, laughing, “just don’t leave a wet spot on my trousers, OK?”
* * *
Returning to Earth was accomplished without incident, and as Cory Ross was bringing Jane in for a landing at Patrons, Shapiro snarled, “Dammit, Jack, I need your new name NOW or I won’t be able to finish this profile! Somebody come up with a name for this furry person!”
There was a sudden flurry of H’kaah—style names bounced around the ship’s cabin as the group prepared to disembark, with the best, as well as the worst, coming from the H’kaah themselves. “No, no, absolutely NOT!” Jack Ross responded to most of the names ventured. “It’s bad enough that I have to go through the rest of my life with brainless humans wanting to play with my tail,” he griped, “but I refuse to carry a name that makes me cringe every time I hear it.”
Green quickly reached down and tweaked Jack Ross’ fluffy rabbit tail, causing the dark-furred alien to jump and yell, “Now cut that out!”
“But it’s such a cute little thing!” Green simpered, then collapsed into peals of laughter. The other humans joined in laughing, and even the other H’kaah found the joke amusing. “My, but you’re jumpy,” Green added, “even for a bunny-boy.”
“Call me ‘bunny-boy’ again and I’ll rip your wounded arm out of the sling and beat you to a bloody pulp with it,” Ross snarled, and for a brief moment Green felt that the former human would do just that.
Then Jack Ross grinned, saying, “Wow! Nothing wimpy about the level of testosterone in these cojones,” and he made a show of patting his crotch. Green hooted an explosive laugh, then fell back on the seat in a fit of giggling. Shapiro, Ross’ other old black ops partner, joined Green on the wide seat. The preposterousness of the whole situation had caught up with them both, and as the two older men laughed themselves into tears a laughing, dark-furred alien happily joined them.
The trio, in one way or another, had been to hell and spit in Satan’s eye. After all the horror and suffering and misery they’d been through, having one of their group running around in the guise of a giant rabbit-man was just one more absurdity in a world full of the preposterous.
“Shalom, my friends,” Jack Ross finally said, smiling. “It’ll take more than fur or funny ears to break us apart.” The two men solemnly nodded. “I’m looking forward, though, to a time when your Jewish souls wind up in some form that’s decidedly not kosher.” That set the trio off on another round of laughter.
Eventually the merriment died down and Shapiro gently prodded, “Jack, it’s getting late and we still need a suitable name for you. Any ideas?”
The dark-furred H’kaah was silent for a moment, then he flashed a big-toothed grin. “Yeah, I got one: D’jiin of the family S’pook. It’s a proper H’kaah name, and if there’s not already a S’pook family—well, there is now.”
L’niik ventured, “Actually, S’pook is a well-known family name on our homeworld, Jack. I attended early school with a male of that family, and he, too, had dark fur.”
Cory Ross, knowing his father’s love of puns and wordplay, asked, “Dad, are you sure about that name?”
“Bet your ass I am, my boy!” the alien replied. “The first one’s a play on the name for a male genie. After all, coming back like this is, for several reasons, pretty much like pulling a rabbit out of a magician’s hat, don’t you think?” Cory Ross just snickered and shook his head. “And as for the family name, part of my black ops duties consisted of spying, so I was a ‘spook’, too.” This time it was Trudy Bond’s turn to collapse into peals of laughter, to be quickly joined by the other humans present. The other H’kaah, however, completely missed the joke.
A few moments later, after the laughter had died down, the dark-furred H’kaah stated, “Well, if there are no objections then it’s time for the Jack Ross name to be laid to rest. Teddy, from now on I’ll be known as D’jiin of the family S’pook.” He bowed.
“Oy,” Green muttered. “God really does have a sense of humor!”
“Teddy, there is one thing,” D’jiin said as the group stepped from the ship into the warm Florida night. “This has all happened so fast I, uh, really need a…a ‘buddy’ to stick close to me, at l
east for the time I’m here at Patrons. This form is still new and unfamiliar to me, and I don’t want to appear too awkward to the native-born H’kaah. That could start some unwelcome rumors, and that’s the last thing I need right now.”
“If my patron doesn’t object,” L’niik offered, “I would be honored to help you, Ja—I mean, D’jiin.”
“I’ll square it with Maria Whitfield,” Shapiro stated. “If she objects, I’ll offer to ‘tickle her fancy’ myself.”
“Careful,” D’jiin said in a stage whisper. “That pork’s definitely not kosher.” Laughter followed the group all the way to the floodlit front door of the building. Shapiro unlocked it with a tiny radio transmitter key fob, but before he entered it D’jiin pulled S’leen aside for a few private moments.
“Here’s where I have to leave you,” he told the suddenly glum-looking female. “In a few days, when some of the dust has settled, we’ll sit down and see what kind of life we can put together.”
“But, Jack—I mean, D’jiin,” she said in a small voice, “everything has changed. You’re H’kaah now, and…and I’m nothing more than…than j-just another female.” She couldn’t have shocked him anymore had she yelled RAPE at the top of her voice. Before he could respond to her outrageous statement she added, tears welling up in her huge liquid eyes, “O-other females will sing to you of their l-love, but…but please remember that I l-l-loved you first.”
Moving so quickly he even surprised himself, he took her in his arms and planted an intense human-style kiss on her soft, velvety lips. After a timeless moment he released her as quickly as he had embraced her, saying around a gasp, “Whew! Any more of that and I’ll have to find a convenient spot and see what else this body can do.” He grinned nervously, adding, “Must be those damned pheromones. Wow!”
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