Sons of Efrafa: Grrls Night Out

by ubernoner

Summary:

In the 'City where Anyone can be Anything', these Grrls be having a night out!

Notes:

New Year, New Story!
As always, I would loke to thank Pandora (paperclipbutterfly) for co-authoring with me.
For those concerned about the tags, know that there are NO graphic depictions, and I will post direct warnings on the pertinent chapters.
With that said, On with the Show!

Chapter 1: Meeting of the Minds

Judy swore to herself she wouldn’t be late this time. And if it had been up to her, she’d have booked it out of work extra early just to make absolutely certain of that. But, like every other time before, one thing led to another, which led to a frantic drive watching the clock count down each minute up to and past the agreed hour to be where she most wanted to be tonight. Her Maserati’s tires all but squealed as she parked. She flew through the doors of the Coyote Moon Sports Bar and Restaurant and found all the faces she was looking forward to seeing this evening.

It had been nearly two months since she’d seen everyone, and they were already gathered around a sizable table. The two larger mammals came into view first, though even if she couldn’t see them, it was hard to miss hearing them. Catherine Montaigne, the mountain lioness owner and CEO of Knight-Howlton Security Services, was already laughing at something said by the boisterous sow sitting across from her. Pearl Swineart, Nick and Jacob’s classmate and rising star of the Zootopian Highway Patrol, had her hooves in motion to accompany her words, a big smile on her face.

Beside Pearl was Lillian Winters, a bobcat Junior Vice President of Marketing for the fashion designer Reynard. Between the two cats were Zabrina Alescu, a contract negotiator and Nick’s soon to be fiancé and Valerie Coneja, ZNN Investigative Journalist, and Jacob Raibert’s fiancé. Finally, there was Dolores Twitchel, PhD student at the flagship campus of Zootopia University.

“Sorry I’m late, girls,” Judy hopped into the elevated seat at the table beside Valerie, thankful that the restaurant wasn’t limited to specific mammal sizes like a pub or bar was. “Had a bit of a scheduling snag; two of my patrol mammals called out with the fleas.”

Catherine flicked her whiskers dismissively. “No harm done,” she said and glanced around the table at the other five mammals. “We’ve only just been seated for a few minutes.”

“Just long enough to order the appetizers and Obligatory First Round,” chimed in Pearl. The pig flashed a Devil May Care grin across the table.

“Please don’t.” Judy scrunched her nose. “At least not until I have some real food in me.”

“Too late, they’re on their way and it’s on me so too bad, you’re welcome.”

No sooner did she say that than the coyote waiter was beside their table with seven vibrant golden shot glasses of varying sizes neatly arranged on his tray.

“A round of the Whistle-Pig Rye shots for each of the ladies,” he said suavely, and set the glasses around the table as Pearl’s face gained an extra layer of excitement. He left his paw over hers and gave her a smokey look. “You, miss, will have to show me some ID, please.”

There was the faintest blush on Pearl’s snout as she gave the canid a hooded grin. “Now I know you didn’t just commit the cardinal sin of asking a lady her age–” She dropped her eyes to the nameplate on his chest. “-- Tailor .”

His paw, and smile, went nowhere. “Just doing my due diligence, miss.”

She could feel a table of eyes on her as she reluctantly relinquished her driver’s license to him. “Rather bold of you to come between a girl and her drink for a little giggle.”

“And again.” He handed her ID back, then lifted his paw from the glass to sweep a little bow. “Many apologies for delaying you. I appreciate your patience.” He nodded to the rest of the table. “Enjoy your drinks, ladies. I’ll return for your orders shortly.”

Dolores rolled her eyes as the server sauntered off. “You know he’s just fishing for a better tip.”

Pearl snorted and tossed back her shot. “So, what if he is? If he wants to give little ol’ me an ego boost, I’m not gonna stop him. We can’t all be Cat and have mammals throwing themselves at our feet.”

Catherine huffed a laugh as she sipped her shot glass. “As cliche as it sounds, that kind of ‘popularity’ with the opposite sex can get old real fast; especially when it’s clear they only see you as a self-propelled sex toy. Say what you will about my exes, but they kept all but the worst of the wolves at bay.” She glanced around the table. “Speaking of, where are the boys tonight?”

Judy set her shot glass aside and reached for a glass of water. “Apparently, Dickie offered to take them out on the yacht to go fishing.”

Cat sputtered at that. “You don’t fish from the Seas the Day unless you’re hunting whales.”

Judy’s ears went up in confusion for a moment. “What? Oh, no! Not the ‘Jack Savage Villain’ yacht; I meant that blue and white one he keeps at Bayside Marina.”

“What, the Minnow II ? I suppose that makes more sense.” Cat looked pensively at Lilly, Judy, Zib, and Val. “Are we sure they’re all right without adult supervision?”

...

Thirty Miles out to sea

“Val’s gonna kill us!”

“Stop freaking out, Mitch, and get the floaty-donut thing!”

“From hell’s heart, I stab at thee, oh damned fish!”

“Why did I give him a harpoon!?”

...

Judy waved her paw and diverted her attention to the menu. “I’m sure they’re fine. Anyway, we’re not here to talk about the boys. Hmm, I keep meaning to try the Grilled Nopales . Guess tonight’s the night. Anyone else want to split a Spiced Vegetable Medley Dip for an appetizer?”

“I’m in as long as there is absolutely no finger food,” Lillian barely suppressed a growl. “I want an actual meal at least once this week; preferably one that I don’t have to scarf down while pacing the kitchen.”

Zabrina gave a hesitant smile at the frustrated bobcat. “I’m a little afraid to ask, but… how are the kits?”

Lilly calmed slightly. “An adorably terrifying pair, or terrifyingly adorable depending on their mood.” She huffed and tossed back her shot. “For now, they’re terrorizing Mitch’s parents while mine are renovating their living room.”

Judy smiled impishly. “You know your parents are probably spoiling them rotten right now.”

“Gonna send them home to you all wound up on sweets and screen time,” Valerie added. “At least that's what Marli-fa Katarin is always threatening.”

Lillian snorted as she picked up a menu. “That’s a problem for future me and Mitch. Right now, my only concern is what wine to have with the Acme-Dynamite Roadrunner .” 

Cat arched an eyebrow at the smaller feline. “Sounds like you’ve had quite the week. Care to share?”

She took a casual sip from her water glass. "I nearly widowed myself."

There was a round of "Ohhhhh”s around the table, and Cat followed up with, “Hoo boy, what did Mitch do?"

"He learned three new organic baby food recipes and rearranged the nursery for the umpteenth time for 'maximum mental stimulation.'"

Dolores’ tail flicked in confusion. “That doesn’t sound all that--” 

"Meanwhile, I'm left to 'stimulate' myself for the past week."

There were instant winces all around from everyone except Judy, who brought her ears and paws over her face from maximum secondhand embarrassment.

Lilly picked up the shot glass and gave it an appreciative look. “Wow, this stuff works fast. I’ll have to get another.”

Cat shook her head in dismay. “Well, you can’t go and make a declaration like that without some context. While Pearl’s new admirer is earning his tips, why don’t you give us a play-by-play?”

When Lilly looked around, she saw all her friends looking back with rapt attention. She sighed. “Alright. It started when Timothy got himself stuck in one of the kitchen cupboards...”

Chapter 2: Mother!

Summary:

A glimpse into the "joys" of new motherhood...

“Come on, Timmy,” Mitch tried to coax the wailing kitten out of the cupboard. “That’s it, I got youoooowww!”

Lillian nearly screeched as her husband came tumbling down off the countertop. She rushed over, desperately shushing the other twin Mathew, and saw Mitch curled in a protective ball around the more adventurous of the twins. Said toddler was now laughing uproariously.

Mitch uncurled himself and lifted Timmy up over his head. “Say ‘we’re fine Mommy!’ Still not as bad as when he got into the recliner chair springs; that was an adventure, right Champ?”

Timmy burbled as Lilly retrieved their wayward son. “I could really do without the ‘adventure’ until they’re both old enough to get themselves out again.” She fought back the frown that threatened her muzzle, though her tail tip lashed. “I wish I knew why they insisted on these antics, especially at three in the morning.” 

Mitch levered himself up and smiled at his wife and children. “I’ll do some research. I’m on third shift the next two weeks, so I need to shift my sleep schedule anyway.” He extended his paws towards the kittens. “You go get some sleep; I’ll stay up with the Adventurers until they crash.”

Lilly gave him a grateful nuzzle, then another to her two kittens and stumbled back to bed. Any shuteye she could bank before her alarm went off would at least improve her usefulness when she got to the office. 

...

Lilly huffed slightly, eyeing her drink before going for one of the fried sweet potato wedges. “Little rascals get into everything. My nose will be as white as my mother’s before the year’s out.”

Judy nodded sagely while Cat grinned wistfully. “Ah, the halcyon days of shredded upholstery and thrown macaroni-&-cheese. I don’t miss those one bit.”

Zib gestured with her drink. “But at least Mitch gave you the gift of sleep! That’s good, isn’t it?”

Lilly rolled her eyes. “That first night, yes. But by the fifth night, I was starting to feel like a fourth wheel in my own family.”

...

Lilly felt like she was going cross-eyed staring through this dataset. And she was still waiting on the quarterly stats from Denise’s department, so how much of this report was she just going to have to redo once those came in? She sighed, adjusted the filters again to generate another graph (earnings this time, they did quite well last month, but was it enough to meet the goal for the project?) when a cheerful ding! chimed from her pocketbook nearby. She reached for it immediately, half grateful for the distraction and half worried for a ‘help me’ text when she saw it was Mitch who had texted her. She tapped it open.

OMG Honey! Timmy’s first pounce!

The attached video showed Mathew happily crawling along before Timothy came into frame, tail twitching. There was a momentary pause, then the most awkward of pounces as Timmy lunged for his brother’s tail.

The initial feeling of joy and pride was cut in half by the email alert from her computer (finally the numbers from Denise) and it was all Lillian could do not to screech and throw her cell phone. She set the phone aside instead as the tears welled and a strangled growl clawed at her throat. First pounce! His first, and she missed it, stuck beneath a mountain of percentages and bar graphs. She put her paws back to the keyboard grudgingly, and cast another glance at the now dark cellphone.

At least it’s on video, right? How many failed attempts did Mitch try and capture before this? It’s okay… next best thing, right? Can’t always be there… would be worse to be told later, not even see it at all… and now I can watch it whenever I want… this is fine...

Her assistant Flumino Castenello stuck her head in the office doorway, long black-tipped ears pointed in rapt attention. “Are you doing okay Mrs. Winters? I heard you growling from accounting.”

Lilly cast a sidelong look at Flumino; the hare was prone to exaggeration, but with those ears you could never tell.

“Nothing, Fulli; just Mitch distracting me is all.”

The jill’s eyes lit up. “Ooh, he’s watching the kits, isn’t he? Lemme-see-lemme-see!”

Lilly was slightly torn between the desire to share her family, and the need to complete more than half a dozen projects before the fiscal quarter closed.

Eventually, she settled on a mildly playful growl. “Eggerton Project first, then pester me about kitten pictures.”

Fulli’s ears vibrated in a manner she had learned was a mix of frustration and determination for Lapinos and Effrafans. “You’ll have it in an hour boss, but I expect the goods when I make good!” 

She shot Lilly a salute and was off at a sprint. She shook her head and looked back at her monitor, then glanced down at her cellphone.

One more time… or three… she thought as the short video played again… and again…

She allowed herself a smile on the last repeat and set back to work with renewed fervor. This blasted report wouldn’t survive the hour, and when it was finally finished she was going home. Home to be with her family, to make a nice quick meal they could have together before Mitch headed out for work. An evening with her rambunctious twins, to get her fill of their adorable faces, to see one of those lopsided pounces for herself in person. Soon. There were pleasant hours ahead once this was finished, so finish it she would.

And she did. Lilly made it home only ten minutes later than expected, but still with what she felt was plenty of time. 

“Mitch, honey; I’m--”

“Shshshsh!” Her husband came around the corner from their childrens’ room. “I just got them to bed, don’t wake them.” He had on an adorable grin, and his service uniform. “Spent all afternoon playing ‘chase the bird’, so they are tuckered out real good.”

“They’re already in bed?” Her voice came out so small in the face of his boisterous smile. He took her bag and continued with barely a glance back at her. “What about dinner?”

“Already taken care of. I tried out this great recipe I found online; super nutritious and guaranteed to knock them out for six hours straight. I grabbed some of the leftover Falafel to eat, so you get the house all to yourself, no interruptions. See you when I get back honey!”

With an almost chaste kiss on the cheek, he was out the door before she could say anything else.

...

Lilly huffed over a fresh Cosmopolitan Martini, as the rest of the table offered varying levels of grimace. “It went on like that for a week! Don’t worry dear, I’ve done everything mammally possible, so you don’t need to be involved in the upbringing of your own kits!” Half the Cosmo was gone in a single pull. “Of course nobody at the office saw it that way: I wish my mate was half that invested, or something else along those lines.”

Judy fiddled her coaster between her paws. “I know my mother would have given her left ear for a few hours more sleep with any of her litters. I mean… did you tell him he was overdoing it?”

“Tried more than once,” Lilly’s frown turned pensive as she looked around the table. “At first it was the whole, ‘not letting me be involved’ thing; but by last Tuesday, Mitch was starting to look more than a little ragged. Twice I found the remote control in the refrigerator. I was starting to get worried about him.

“The last pulled whisker was the day before he was supposed to rotate back to a normal schedule...”

...

Lilly gave her reflection one last look in the rearview mirror before shoving the car door open. Fulli had actually mentioned today how bright her eyes looked, how alert, how unlike a new mother she looked that day, “but not in a bad way!” She could have just ripped her cheek-tufts out and screamed.

The infuriating thing was, Fulli wasn’t half wrong. Lilly was sharp-eyed and awake, alert and energized in a way she hadn’t felt the entire month previous. She just hadn’t seen her kits and husband in weeks. It was doing wonders for her coat, and devastation for her mental well-being.

But tonight, that was going to change! Lilly was caught up on all the current marketing projects, and her team was working on the next quarter advertising budget so she could get home at a reasonable time. As a bonus, Mitch was starting his normal morning shift in three days, so he had today and tomorrow to get back on a crepuscular schedule. She marched defiantly up to her door, keys in paw. With God as her witness, she would have a pleasant evening with her--

“ Mahbwah! ” 

Timothy was clinging upside down from the spinning living room ceiling fan, while Mathew charged around the room brandishing her electric toothbrush like a spear. A basket of clean laundry was nearby, but the two kits were conspicuously naked. Each time one of them passed in front of her, she was lightly sprayed with flecks of soapy water.

She remained motionless for a breath, before stalking into the middle of the room. Both kits were deftly caught by their scruffs and hefted over each shoulder, before she spun on her pads and marched into the bathroom. She found her husband in the tub, surrounded by bubbles and bath toys. She felt a faint stirring of panic for a single moment that stirred the kits, before she heard Mitch’s telltale snore; he hadn’t drowned, just passed out.

“Mitchell,” there was a snort from the sleeping cat at the quiet voice, “ Lavarre ,” a slight smacking of the lips, “ Winters . ” 

The bath went deathly still as Mitch’s eyes snapped open at ‘the Mom-Voice’. His eyes found focus in an instant but it was already too late. Far too late. “Lilly! I was, ah… we were…”

“You were passed out in the bath, with no fucking clue where our children were!” Her voice grated roughly in her throat as she fought back the urge to growl and hiss. “They could have drowned! You could have drowned! They could have gotten hypothermia! Or chewed a wire, or… God , Mitch!”

He struggled to his feet, the water cascading off his fur back into the tub, palming the slick walls for some purchase and finding none. “I was just… I thought I could fit it in before you…”

“Before I had the chance to do it?” Her voice started to turn shrill, and she could feel the twins tense on her shoulder blades but she had picked up too much momentum to stop herself now. “Do you think I can’t, do you think I’m incapable of caring for my own kittens even half as well as you ? Do you think I can’t handle it? Or that maybe taking away all the time I would have with them from me is some kind of sick gift? I barely see any of you when you’re awake, and now I finally manage to and this is what greets me??”

Lilly felt ready to pounce, to swat, maybe even bare her teeth, but she didn’t get to verbally sink her claws into him any further. Her voice had reached a pitch that she could remember her mother using once when she’d sped through a snow drift and wrecked the family Chevy Vega. The twins had been silent, not even moving as she spoke, but now the mewling cries came out and they were squirming at her neck, trying to find some comfort from the thing that had scared them. That she herself had unleashed.

The tears were pounding at the dam, and she bit her lip hard to keep them at bay. She took a deep breath to steady her voice, but it still came out low and purling.

“Bathtime is over,” she said. “Clean up this mess.”

She didn’t wait for a response as she turned on her heels and left the bathroom without another glance back at him.

She took the twins to their room and laid them both down. A towel dry and some shushing helped to smooth over their fright. A lullaby and a little rocking together was all that was needed to get their sleepy eyes to close. She tucked them into their cribs, but remained sitting on the rocking chair Mitch had scrounged up for when one of them needed to stay up with them. It was enormous; if they wanted to, all four of them could comfortably sit in it. In the quiet of the kits’ room, she allowed the stress and fear to pour out as she tucked her knees into her chest and cried silently. 

She didn’t know how long she was there, or when Mitch had come in. Her first indication he was there was when the chair stopped rocking, as he gently butted his head against her feet. 

“Hey.” His voice was as soft as a summer breeze, and neither of the kits stirred. “I… I’ll go if you want to be alone, but…”

“I don’t.” Her paw came down and absently scratched between his ears, and he pressed his forehead against her palm. Both of them began purring lightly at the soothing reminder that there was still a ‘them’. Mitch leapt up to the seat of the rocking chair easily, though he sat just on the edge, eyes downturned to examine his fiddling paws rather than whatever look his wife may have been giving him.

“How do I fix this, Lilly?” he asked eventually.

“ You don’t, Mitch.”

His head snapped up in alarm at the declaration. “Lilly, I--”

She pinched one of his ears between her thumb and index digit, claws retracted, causing him to freeze in place. “ We fix this. Not you or me, or our parents. This is our family, and we have equal responsibility to take care of it.” 

“But I don’t know what to do!”

She spared a glance at her mewling husband. “Good; then maybe you’ll stop doing long enough for us to come up with a solution.”

He opened his mouth as if to comment, then closed it and nodded before gently butting her head. “Well we’re not going with Gruntson’s method: keep out of the house and let the missus do all the work.” They both snorted at that. “I don’t know if he’s trying to one-up me on parenting by going on about how ‘easy’ it is for him.”

Lilly gave Mitch a short nuzzle. “Candace is a stay-at-home sow, with her family and inlaws all within walking distance. Besides, if Nathan was as under paw at home as you’ve been these last couple of weeks, we’d be reading about him in the O-bits by Thursday.”

He nodded, lips quivering like he might smile, but he just sighed instead. “I didn’t mean to take so much away from you. I just… I guess I was just trying to keep you from being burdened, and unhappy. That sure backfired, huh?”

Lilly growled lightly and butted Mitch back. “You did what you always do: pounce into the snowbank head-first, consequences be damned. I love that about you, even if it does infuriate me sometimes. Mitch.” She waited until he was looking at him. “I’m more than strong enough to deal with a little stress, especially when I have you by my side.”

Now he let the smile out and cast his eyes to the door. “Then what’s say we whip up something to eat together. I’ll rein myself in long enough for us to divvy things up better so neither of us ends up half passed out in the tub again.”

“Oh, you’re never living that down,” she said and scooted off the chair to the floor. “I should have taken a picture for posterity.”

...

Everyone at the table smiled at Lilly’s happy ending, though Dolores pursed her lips in thought. “If you and Mitch were in such desperate need of ‘together time’, why send him out to sea tonight?”

Lilly huffed and finished off her Cosmo. “Because he has no concept of restraint! I’m drowning in edible arrangements at work, and now my coworkers think I caught Mitch cheating or something!”

A wave of laughter washed over the others. Lilly waved them off as she snatched a roasted cactus petal off of Judy’s plate. “Enough about my cameo on, ‘Days of our Wives’.” She wrinkled her nose for a moment before chomping into the spiced plant. “To think I ever thought the stories on those soaps actually looked exciting. All I wanted while I was holed up in the house changing the kittens diapers was something mildly interesting. Daytime drama addiction cured.”

Judy mock glared at the lynx next to her as she nibbled her own Nopales, before donning a sly grin. “Oh I don’t know; as I heard it, the plots on the set of ‘The Young and the Furless’ can get downright scary.” She gave Pearl a side-eye as the sow tensed up.

The porcine officer gave a delicate snort towards Judy as everyone’s attention shifted her way. “I should say it’s an ongoing investigation, you know that.”

“Oh, please.” Cat wriggled her whiskers, “The latest cancellation rumors are just that. The studio threatens to cancel the show at least once a decade to stir up ratings.”

Pearl slowly turned to face the catamount as a smirk climbed up her cheeks. “Our resident ‘Mistress of Secrets’ doesn’t know?”

Cat’s lazy tail wave began to pick up speed in excitement as she saw the almost predatory grin on Pearl’s snout. “This... isn’t about the latest rumors, is it?”

“Hear that? Someone mark this day down in history as the day I scooped Cat for once,” Pearl crowed, and raised her glass. “Strap yourselves in, ladies. This one’s a doozy.”

Chapter 3: Soap

Summary:

Sometimes, the 'Daytime Drama' is a little more than you expected...

- Highway 40, Dispatch- Pearl’s radio called in her helmet.

She set her radar gun down and grabbed her microphone. “Dispatch, Highway 40, go ahead.”

-Highway 40, Dispatch, proceed to Inter-District 3 Vornoy Plaza off ramp Eastbound. High speed collision, one medium mammal vehicle jumped the guardrail into the dunes.-

Pearl grimaced at that; for a medium-scaled vehicle to jump one of the interdistrict guard rails, meant to contain megafauna transporters, it would have to have been doing nearly twice the speed limit. There was little chance that the driver and any passengers had survived the thirty-foot drop to the dunes below.

“Dispatch, Highway 40 copies. Proceeding now.” She clipped the mic back to her shoulder, then lit the lights and sirens on her Police Bike and motored towards the accident.

The sun was just at its zenith when she saw the wreckage, as well as the EMS and Fire trucks moving down the ramp. The windswept dunes of Sahara Square were normally a uniform shape, so it wasn’t difficult to pick out the one that held the shattered vehicle. The crest of the mound had been flattened and then pulled down the bank as the car rolled end over end along its slope. It was now partially buried at the foot of the sandy hill, with debris scattered all along its descent.

She posted at the ramp to keep additional vehicles from crowding the ramp, and waited for EMS and Fire to declare the site safe. She smiled as a familiar brown bear ZFD Ladder driver waved her over. “Sniffers say it’s safe: electric, and the breakers kicked in as soon as she lost ground contact.”

Pearl gave a sharp snort. “Gene, what the hell kind of buggy can get the juice and speed to jump these rails?”

Firemammal Gene Honeydew frowned and shook his head. “Looks like a Furcury Sabercat: number one choice for Dodo Award winners.” The two walked over to the twisted remains of the former high performance sports car. “You take a peek before we cut our driver out of his coffin.”

Pearl nodded as she approached. The vehicle was upside down, with the front end twisted from the force of the impact with the dune; at the speed it must have been going, it might as well have hit a concrete barrier. She could smell all the expected smells from a car wreck: ozone from the damaged battery stack, the fine powder dust from the airbags deploying, burnt rubber from the tires, and–

She paused for a moment and then began circling the car. Three of the tires showed balding from sudden braking, but the front passenger’s tire was unblemished. As she got closer, she could smell brake fluid, as well as a lubricating oil she wasn’t familiar with; which meant it had no business around a car. Once she was at the wheel well, she squinted at the hydraulics before pulling her phone out and taking several pictures.

“Hey Gene,” the bear looked over as Pearl waved at him, “you got anyone with better eyes than yours or mine?”

Gene Honeydew looked around for a moment. “Better than you? Not one of mine but, Hecki!” A cheetah in EMS overalls popped his head up. “Can you help Officer Swineart for a moment?”

The lanky Savannah cat jogged over to Pearl, and she passed her phone to him. “Take a look at these and tell me what you see.”

The cat obliged and looked at several pictures. “Looks like there’s a hole in the line here.”

“A hole?”

Hecki paused at the question, then took a closer look at the pictures before heading to the car and looking down. “No ma’am, not a hole. More of a--”

“A cut.” Pearl gave a distasteful snort. If there was one thing a Swineart would not abide, it was sabotage of a car.

...

While Judy and Cat bounced in their seats in excitement at Pearl’s evolving story, the other three shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

“I know I’m usually the first to jump on a scoop,” Valerie glanced sidelong at Pearl, “but should we be hearing this? I mean if it’s an ongoing investigation...” She trailed off while eyeing Judy.

Her fellow leporidae waved the jill’s concerns off. “I’ve already read up on this case, and the culprit has not only been apprehended, they confessed under legal witness.”

“Hey now,” Pearl tossed a small bit of breading at Judy. “This here’s my story; don’t you go spoiling anything before I get to the good part!”

Zabrina and Dolores sat back, slightly mollified by the nonchalance of the two police officers. 

Dolores quickly snatched up a beer-nut while clearing her throat. “Soooo, go on then. What’s the good part?”

“I was just about to get there when I was so rudely interrupted.” Pearl weathered the raspberry Judy blew her way and motioned at the others with her hooves. “First of all, the driver of the car turned out to be--”

...

“Armand Ibarra-Lopez, Giant Armadillo, age 32, 1138 Palm Street West,” Pearl read the information off of her bike’s mobile data terminal as the Fire and Rescue mammals worked to extract the victim from the crushed remains of his car.  Pearl tapped the end of her snout as she watched the EMTs work. “Ibarra-Lopez, Ibarra-Lopez, where the dickens do I know that name from?”

The Fire Department’s ‘Jaws-of-Life’ finished scissoring through the coupe’s structural roll-bar. Gene and one of his elephants peeled back the roof, while another blackbear firemammal all but ripped the driver’s side door off. As she did, Pearl saw a blue alligator skinned book fall from the door pocket into the sand.

“Hold up just a moment,” Pearl shouted as she rushed over before the book was trampled into the dune. Once in her trotters, she saw it was a fairly large day-planner with both the Furner Broadcasting logo, as well as a second logo embossed in gold on the cover. “ TV 2 ,” she looked from the day planner to the remains of the unfortunate shelled mammal before gasping. “Oh my God! That’s where I know him from.”

Gene leaned on the remains of the car. “Well, don’t leave us all in suspense.”

Pearl brandished the day planner excitedly. “He’s the new associate producer Furner hired on for ‘The Young and the Furless’!”

Gene scratched his nose while giving the corpse a blank look. “I thought that show had been canceled-ow!” He rubbed the back of his head where the elephant had dope-slapped him.

“Hush you,” his colleague chided. “I was raised on that show. It’s one of the few primetime shows in the Confederation that gives furless mammals representation as anything other than ‘the weirdo/outsider’ or ugly best friend.”

Pearl waved the argument off. “Besides, Furner announces ‘the final season’ every few years. It’s become a ratings stunt at this point.”

Technician Hecki looked up from where he was securing Armand’s remains for transport. “Maybe someone took the threat a little more seriously this time?”

Pearl looked through the planner’s schedule for that day. “According to this, the ‘YatF’ set at TV 2 in the Savvy was his last stop before,” she glanced up, “well, his last stop. ”

Gene Honeydew put his paws up and backed away slightly. “Don’t look at us for guidance. You’re the cop.”

Pearl snapped her jaw shut and gave a sharp nod before heading back over to her bike. “Dispatch, Highway 40; possible foul play in Vornoy Plaza accident. I’m going to head to the driver’s last known location. Over.” She barely listened for the response as she started her bike, and thundered back onto the Inter-District Highway system.

She arrived at the studio complex for Furner Broadcasting’s ‘TV 2’ just before two o'clock.The front desk mammal directed her to a side office where she was met by one of the studio’s Paralegals.

The pangolin was dressed all in white: from his tight fitting white trousers and knee length single breasted jacket, to the simple Gandhi cap perched on his head. He struck a very regal air as he extended a clawed forelimb towards Pearl. “Huk Singh, Esq. Your dispatch Sargeant called ahead to tell us you were coming, but not why.”

Pearl nodded, and sat in one of the interview chairs. “Yes, well the reason for our forbearance involves Mr. Ibarra-Lopez. I understand he was here this morning at,” she pulled out her small notebook, “nine o’clock?” She waited for Huk to nod, then continued. “Based on traffic in this part of the city, he would have left the studio no later than 9:45.” She allowed the implied question to hang.

Huk held eye contact and cocked his head ever so slightly. “Is Armand in some kind of trouble, officer?”

“No sir,” Pearl primly rested her trotters on her knees, “Mr. Ibarra was in a fatal car accident on the ID-3, while on his way to his next listed appointment.” She watched as shock rippled across the pangolin’s face and scales. “I am here to interview the last mammal or mammals he spoke with, to see if there were any indications as to why he might have been driving recklessly, or perhaps been distracted. You are of course welcome to attend those interviews and advise the staff as you deem fit.”

To his credit, Huk recovered his composure quickly. He reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out a cell phone. “Once I can determine which mammals those may be, when would you be looking to conduct said interviews?”

“As soon as mammaly possible, if you please.” Pearl saw the minor flinch along Huk’s scales. She took a leap of faith with the company lawyer. “There is the possibility that Mr. Ibarra’s accident was, in fact, no accident. If this is the case, then it stands to reason that whomever may or may not be involved would still be here. I would like to interview any crew and staff who had direct contact, or disputes with Armand in order to rule them out.”

She could see the distrust and desire to protect his clients, but also a desire to protect the company itself. “Make yourself comfortable; I’ll gather a list of people he spoke with, and direct them here ,” he arched an eye ridge meaningfully, “once they are free from any pressing duties.”

Pearl knew she couldn’t press the matter since she didn’t have an official warrant, so simply nodded and gave her best Southern Belle smile. “Of course, I’ll be here when you and they are ready. By any chance,” Huk paused as he was leaving, “could you possibly direct me to the facilities and a fresh pot of coffee? It’s  already been quite a day for me.”

...

Cat gave a strangled snort. “Waitwaitwait, hold it. So, the producer of a show notorious for shelving characters by having them ‘get in a car accident’ off camera dies in a car accident, and you manage to–what?--sneak onto the set by saying you needed to powder your snout?!”

Judy groaned and thumped her forehead on the table while the other ladies laughed. “I can’t even. Please tell me that didn’t work!”

Pearl reached over and patted her head. “Of course it did, bun.”

Valerie reached over the doe to snatch a cactus leaf. “I don’t doubt it one bit. You’d be shocked, scandalized even, by the number of times I’ve gotten into some place by flicking my tail and saying I needed to fluff my ears.”

Dolores gave a squeaky shush to the table. “Enough about the laughable pliability of males. So you accidentally get yourself ‘lost,’ what a shocker. What happened next?!”

...

Pearl walked purposefully deep into the studio building. On a hunch, she asked a harried looking raccoon with an armload of clothes to direct her to ‘costuming’. He directed her to the third floor. She wove her way through racks of clothing ranging from period ball gowns, to a strange translucent plastic affair that Bearberella wouldn’t have been caught dead wearing. 

She pushed her way through a wall of Ostrich leather dusters, and right into the Boxer-clad flank of a stallion. “Oof!”

Both mammals staggered from the collision, though the equid rallied faster and offered Pearl a hoof. “I’m sorry miss, I didn’t see you there.”

Pearl quickly averted her eyes away to survey the room, banishing thoughts of her cousin’s bachelorette party at ‘The Prancing Pony Club’ two years ago. “Goodness, I surely got myself turned around.”

“First day on set?” Pearl looked up at the stallion and instantly recognized his kind face, though she’d never seen him wear any expression other than a sneer. Darian Colt, season 28 sociopathic sycophant villain, waved his hoof at the door behind her. “Don’t worry, Gloria will be along in a couple of minutes to get you to your marks.” He cocked his head slightly, and appraised her with an appreciative smile. “I’ve gotta say, the tailoring team did a top notch job with your uniform. I’d swear it was--”

-All units, be advised of Hazmat transport westbound on Inter-district 2. All onbound traffic for ID-2 is suspended until transport is past Baobab Way.-

“...Genuine.” 

Pearl turned her radio down and cleared her throat. “Yes, I suppose you could say that. I hope you don’t mind too terribly, but I do have a couple of questions to ask, unless you’re needed somewhere?”

Darian clicked his teeth and waved her over to the fitting bench. “Not at all. My next scene isn’t for an hour yet. Though I do think I’ll throw on a pair of trousers first, if you don’t mind.

She turned away again and said, “Of course, please do.”

He moved off to where a variety of slacks and pants of varying fabrics were hanging while she headed toward the bench that he’d indicated. “If you can wait till next week, I’ll be having my ‘car accident’ on Tuesday and should be available for a longer meeting. At least until my agent can corral me something else.”

Pearl paused as she was sitting down. “Wait, you’re being shelved? But you’re the most love-hated villain since Desmond Sykes and his mind-control plot!”

Darian came from around the wall of costumes while unclipping one of the pinching tools from his hooves. “That’s very kind of you to say, but I have it on the highest authority that I no longer have a place with The Young and the Furless .”

Pearl felt her bristles start to stand on end. “When did this decision happen?”

“This morning, just after Dailies; Corporate sent their chief Hatchet Mammal to deliver the news in person. It seems I don’t ‘fit his vision for the show’s direction’.”

“And what direction is that, if I may ask?” Pearl tried to keep the tension out of her voice.

“Straight to Furner Classic Movies , along with every other canceled show. It’s funny, you know,” Darian gave Pearl a sad smile, “whenever I need to get into my ‘Jake Stallion’ character, I just act like Armand. Works like a charm.”

...

“Oh my God !” Zib geckered a little while cupping her cheeks. “I mean he plays a hell of a bad guy, but I never imagined he could actually do something like that.”

“Ha! Not a chance.” Judy snatched the last leaf off her plate. “No case is ever that cut and dry.”

Pearl nodded and smiled. “True, though I will admit that I thought of him as my prime suspect at the time; really, my only suspect, since he had a clear motive. Still, you go where the evidence leads, not the other way around.”

...

Pearl considered the mammal in front of her for a moment. She knew as soon as Mister Singh tracked her down, he’d have her escorted off the set. If she wanted real answers, and not the legal department’s sanitized comments, then she’d need to manifest her own destiny..

She put on her best coy smile and batted her eyelashes for the stallion in front of her. “I hope you don’t mind terribly, but my momma all but raised me on ‘The Young and the Furless’. Would it be too much of an imposition for a quick tour?”

Darian tapped his chin with his hoof. “Well, I do have a little time to kill before I need to report to stage two for the ‘Big Reveal about being Winifred’s adopted brother’ scene. It would do me good to spend as much time with the rest of the crew as I can get, since my days here are now numbered.”

To her credit, Pearl managed to keep the internal screaming at the huge spoiler to herself as she smiled harder. “I would be ever so delighted to get a sneak peek at the mammals behind the show.”

He smiled and stuck out his elbow. “Then I would be ever so delighted to be your guide. Right this way.”

Fangirling bottled way down deep inside to be released later at an undisclosed location, Pearl accepted his elbow. They made their way through the maze of dressing rooms and stored sets to the main sound stage.

“You know, I was also raised on this show?” Pearl looked at her escort incredulously, only to be met with his guileless smile. “No, really. I was eight, and got a bad case of colic. Mom kept me home from school so she could keep an eye on me and keep me moving. She’d have me pace the living room while she watched her daytime dramas. That was when Winston Hoary was still acting as ‘Director Tuskers’.” They paused as a pair of elephants walked through a scene under direction before filming. “I was absolutely entranced by his performance. That's why I went into acting.” His smile turned melancholy. “Getting hired on to this show was an absolute dream come true.”

Pearl kept her own sad smile, though it was slightly strained by an out of place smell on the set: Molly-B axle grease and brake fluid. Her nose wrinkled, but as soon as it wafted past her nostrils it was gone again. She hadn’t smelled either chemical the entire time she had been walking with Darian, so she felt a bit of relief that she could unofficially rule him out as an immediate suspect.

It did mean the mammal that had likely cut Armand’s brake lines was in the room with them.

They were both distracted when a civet ran up to Darian. “Mister Colt, I have a revision from Writing for your scene with Winifred.” She handed him a bundle of pages with a sad smile before scampering off.

The equid chuckled and looked over the pages. His chuckles faded as his breathing quickened. He dropped the script on a nearby table and said, “Miss, I hope I don’t come off as rude, but I need to get to Make-Up right now. ”

“What?” Pearl watched as Darian turned on a hoof and all but trotted out of the sound stage. “What’s going on?”

“One does not kiss Miss Winifred Marsh with anything less than perfect teeth!”

Pearl stared for a moment before clamoring up to the table and reading the forgotten script. She clearly saw the red-lined character dialogue detailing a supposed confrontation by step-siblings. Below that in blue was a complete rewrite, wherein the despotic horse ‘Jake Stallion’ revealed his illicit love affair with the current lead hippopotamus ‘Winifred Marsh’.

...

“No, fluffing, way!” The entire table stared with their mouths open at Pearl, while Lillian brandished a cocktail pick at her. “I saw that scene the day of. You cannot tell me that was a last minute script change!”

Pearl gave an imperious huff. “I can, and I am. I saw them shoot the scene. Got the whole thing in one take too.”

“Oh my God, I am jealous .”

Dolores glanced around the restaurant as if looking for judging eyes. “Can we please not gush about the latest soap opera gossip like a bunch of stereotypical housewives?”

Valerie’s ears pointed back as she sent the squirrel a cross look. “Is this any worse than listening to the boys go on about the latest ‘Mare-vel Comic Universe’ character reveal?”

Pearl clapped her trotters together. “Ladies, we’re getting off topic. There’s still the ‘grand reveal’ of the true identity of the killer.” She reached for her nearly empty glass, only for it to be deftly swapped out with a fresh drink. She glanced up at Tailor with a cocked eyebrow.

He chuckled as he bowed slightly. “Well, I am competing for your attention with a star actor, and a stallion at that. I have to up my game.” He sauntered back to the bar, adding just a touch of swish to his tail.

Pearl was distracted again as she felt something dab at her cheek. She looked down to see Zib smirking as she twirled a cocktail umbrella over her head as if to ward off rain. “Care to finish your story before you go after a different lady-killer?”

Pearl snapped her eyes back to the table, pointedly not looking at her smirking dinner companions. “-ahem- Yes; the killer.”

...

Pearl managed to tear herself away from the script when she caught a flash of motion from the corner of her eye. She watched rapt as mammals of all shapes and sizes began swirling around the sound stage. It took less than a minute for the ‘studio lobby’ set to be swapped out for the living room set of ‘Winifred Marsh’. They had just finished assembling the set when Constance Rivers, the lead hippo actress came on the set. She was gently pulling Darian behind her while chatting animatedly, completely at odds with her ‘Mrs. Marsh, CFO’ character. She gave her co-star a peck on the cheek before the photography and scene directors scurried over and began reviewing the scene.

She would have been content to watch the scene unfold, were it not for the returned scent of automotive lubricants. She made sure not to stare as a large brown rat scurried over to the table she was leaning against. His belt was festooned with electrical tools such as Ohm-meters, as well as a large gauge set of wire pliers.

“Whoo,” the rat pulled a stained rag from his back pocket and fanned himself with it. “Normally not a fan of last minute scene changes; plays hell with the lighting.”

Pearl looked down with a polite smile. “Normally, but not today?” She fought back a wrinkle of her snout as a fishy, castor oil scent wafted towards her from the impromptu fan.

“Naw, not today,” he smiled and nodded at where the scene was unfolding. “I’m guessing you were hired on after we got saddled with Darian, but there was no small amount of bad vibes when a horse got cast as a lead, even if it was as the villain of the season. But he was, is, just so earnest ! You have to respect the heart of that mammal,” the rat’s tail twitched in agitation, “even after Mr. Ibarra done him dirty.”

Pearl was about to ask what he meant by that, even knowing the answer, when a sharp voice came from her left. “Officer Swineart!” Pearl snapped her head around at the sound of Huk Singh’s not at all even remotely composed anymore voice hailing from across the room as he waddled across to her. His pants were wrinkled and his jacket hung slightly askew off one shoulder as he approached. His face was all bluster as he managed to huff his words at her with a mix of exasperation and barely contained fury. “You were explicitly instructed to wait in administration for the interviews you requested. I demand for you to explain why I should find you conducting your investigation here, to my mammals, without their legal counsel present?”

Though slightly chagrined at being caught, Pearl kept her composure as she glanced down at her wrist. “And precisely how long did you expect to keep a police officer waiting in your little side office? It’s been eighty minutes since you left to gather your list. Like you, I have other duties which take precedence over playing court. However, since you are here,” she looked meaningfully at the rat beside her, “perhaps we can get started so we can both get back to what we need to be doing.”

The three made their way down to the small office, with Huk and the electrician sitting across from Pearl.

Huk squared himself and all but glared at Pearl. “Clyde, first and foremost I want you to refrain from answering any questions without my advising you first.” 

Pearl kept her most professional smile on as the shell-shocked rat nodded in understanding. “That is quite correct, as you have not been charged with any crime, yet .” Clyde flinched at Pearl’s emphasis. “At this time I only have one question, and a request. Please place all of your tools on the table, as well as your cleaning rag.”  

Clyde looked at Huk, who hesitantly nodded. As the electrician began laying out his various tools and Pearl pulled out a kit from her belt, the Pangolin flicked his tongue. “You said you had a question as well?”

“Yes,” Pearl opened her field evidence kit and put on a pair of rubber gloves. “You mentioned that Mister Ibarra-Lopez, ‘did Darian dirty’. What did you mean by that exactly?” 

“Well, I just--” Clyde’s head snapped towards Huk while Pearl deftly took pictures and swabs of both the rag and pliers, before placing the two in separate evidence bags. “But he was all but screaming about it next to the craft-services table; everyone heard.”

Pearl’s attention shifted over to Huk. “Is that correct, Mr. Singh? Did ‘everyone’ hear Mr. Ibarra’s declaration that he intended to terminate Darian Colt’s contract, and why?”

Clyde shrank into his chair, while the lawyer’s scales rattled audibly through his coat. “Mr. Ibarra was quite vocal, yes.”

“Then my interview pool is, in fact, everyone who would have been in earshot, rather than a select few mammals whom he interacted with directly.”

Clyde puffed his fur. “What are you talking about? Why’d you drag me in here, then? And what are you doing with all my stuff? Give it back, I have work to do and I’m not going to get my tail chewed off by Armand for just sitting around for no good r–”

“Mr. Ibarra is dead, sir,” Pearl interrupted the rat’s rant. “His passenger side brake line was cut, though not all the way through. He jumped the highway barrier in Sahara Square when he couldn’t brake to avoid a rear-end collision.”

The rat’s expression froze into one of horror.

Pearl went on, all vestiges of civility replaced by austere professionalism. “I’ve grown up around high performance cars, so I know Molybdenum Disulfide and brake fluid when I smell and see them. I also know it’s a semiconductor, while polyalkylene glycol brake fluid will spontaneously ignite at between 390 and 400 degrees celsius. Not really the kinds of things you want on your tools when working with high temperature electronics and stage lighting.”

“Armand died ?” Clyde murmured, lips barely parting. “Died, as in… he’s dead?”

She nodded and tapped a trotter on the two evidence bags. “These items are being collected as evidence, pending the investigation into Mr. Ibarra’s death. Until forensics gets back with their results, I cannot charge you, but I think we all know what they will find.”

“Oh God, what have I done?” She fought back a sad frown as Clyde curled into a ball in his chair.

Huk hissed at him. “Clyde, not another word .”

“But you have to understand that wasn’t… he wasn’t supposed to actually… oh GOD …”

Huk firmly placed a clawed hand on the shivering rat’s shoulder and locked eyes with Pearl. “ My client cannot have known or anticipated the severity of the accident that would result from any actions he may or may not have taken. As you are not, and cannot, arrest him, then this interview is over.”

Pearl gave a prim nod as she stood with her evidence in trotter. “I suppose it is. I would still advise against any last minute travel arrangements. Mr. Singh.”

She left under the awed scrutiny of the entire cast and crew. She shook her head as she mounted her bike and turned her radio back up. “Dispatch, Highway 40, returning to base.” She looked back at the studio one more time as she secured her helmet. “Daytime drama indeed.”

...

Pearl leaned back while nibbling a truffle fry. “Evidence came back in less than a day: fluids were an exact match with Armand’s car. The electrician confessed almost as soon as the arresting officers arrived. Mr. Singh is working to have his charges reduced from ‘negligent mamicide’ to ‘wrongful death’.” She frowned at the table. “I’m not sure how to feel about that.”

Judy chirred her teeth and patted Pearl’s trotter. “You should feel good about solving the crime. That’s what we do. The rest is out of your hooves.” She leaned back and took a sip of her beer. “Let the courts decide how much he should be punished.”

“Well, I’m doing that, aren’t I?” Pearl examined the drink glass in her hoof and took another sip. “Sometimes I just wish I got a say in it, is all.”

There was a round of nods just before the coyote waiter returned to refill everyone’s water glasses and take their dinner orders.

Cat chuckled as the canid walked off. “Oh he’s good,” she sent a meaningful glance Pearl’s way. “Masterful reading of the table: just the right amount of attention without crossing the line.”

The sow raised a delicate eyebrow. “I’m certain I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, yes you do.” Valerie waggled her ears and smirked at Pearl. “You perk up a little more every time he comes over, and he definitely pays you more attention than the rest of us.”

“Well, then between that and the drinks he’s done what he needs to for that handsome tip, hasn’t he?” Pearl pulled the last of her drink with a grimace. “That’s what he’s after, after all.”

Catherine chuckled while glancing over her drink. “Oh, I know from leeches, grrl. Trust me, he’s hoping for more than a few extra bills.” She wiggled her eyebrows at Pearl.

“When all the little flirtations end at the check, you owe me one of those fancy Awooey-Gooey-Butter-Bars.” Pearl quirked a confident smirk, and put out her hoof. “Deal?”

Cat twitched her whiskers as she extended a paw to seal the deal. “Deal.” She leaned back in her seat and took up her wine glass with a frown. “If only all agreements could be so civilized.”

Zabrina hissed slightly. “Problems with corporate?”

“Oh, that doesn’t even begin to describe it.”

Chapter 4: No Glitz, No Glory

Summary:

Cat relates the highs and lows of the adult dating scene...

Cat leaned back in her booth at ‘Club Cache’. She could see her ‘prey’ from across the room. He was tall, lean, athletic and confident in the way only stags seemed to pull off. There was a certain majesty in his stance, in the way he moved, effortlessly graceful. He knew how good he looked and made sure to flaunt it without looking at all like he was making any effort to.

He caught her looking, and she smiled with a salute of her glass. He turned to the bartender and was soon strutting over with two drinks in hoof, as she anticipated he would.

He invited himself into her booth and set a fresh Cosmo in front of her. “It seems an absolute tragedy for such a beauty as yourself to be drinking all alone.”

“Oh,” She raised a coy eyebrow. “Who says I’m here alone?”

He shrugged and smiled. “One plate, one glass, one bag. One might assume. Is your companion this evening invisible, perhaps?”

“So you’ve been watching me?” She took the proffered drink and rolled it under the light. “Tell me why I should trust you, then? Who knows what you might do with a lady such as myself, once you have me at your mercy.”

“What could you possibly have to fear from me?” He leaned back and stretched his chest. “After all, you’re the CEO of the single largest security firm in the Polis, to say nothing of the surrounding territory.”

Cat purred slightly. “So you have been watching me.”

He smiled and leaned forward, raising his glass for a toast. “How’s that old predator saying go? ‘Know your enemy, and victory is assured’.”

...

Dolores gagged while sticking her tongue out. “Can we please go without a detailed play-by-play of your sexploits for once?”

There was a round of good-natured chuckling and nods from around the table. Cat gave an exaggerated frown. “Aww, but the rest is so dull without them.” She received a ring of flat expressions and she rolled her eyes. “Fine then. I promise to gloss over the fun parts, so we can get to the juicy part!”

...

Cat marched into her office and placed her coat in the waiting arms of her secretary. “Clarence, get Rolland and Elise up here, and make sure the board is well-acquainted with our standing corporate policy on share sales.”

The mountain goat nodded once and was off like a shot. She had barely logged into the company server when Rolland O’Daire and Elise Pritemps, her skunk and deer competitive research team, came in. Elise stood casually, while Rolland climbed into a nearby chair. “I take it your evening progressed as expected, ma’am.”

“That it did, Elise. Rolland, your evaluation was right on the money, right down to his tie color.” The pair across from her nodded, but otherwise remained impassive. “What can I expect from him and Starbuck Executive Solutions now?”

Rolland pulled out a small tablet and began scrolling. “Depending on how far your evening with Joseph progressed,” Cat gave a faux scandalized gasp. “You pay me to evaluate ma’am, not judge. So, if he keeps to form, we have a two day window before he contacts you again.” He glanced over at Elise. “His personal report will determine how loose his uncle lets the purse strings get.”

Elise handed Cat a slip of paper. “Silas Starbuck sold 15 shares of his own personal stock through the NIKKEI at 2:53 am Pacific Standard time. We can’t track the transfer of funds yet, but Joseph Starbuck was observed heading towards Pier #8 at 6:26 this morning.”

Catherine snorted a laugh. “He’s going to, what? Charter a fishing boat? The only offices on Fisher’s Warf are Delaney Sea Excursions, and Otterdam Yacht Charter, and they don’t have anything bigger than 75 feet.”

Elise gave an indifferent shrug. “With the Nasiri uprisings coming to an end, a lot of governments are canceling Private Military contracts. Fifteen shares of SES doesn’t buy what it would have a year ago.”

Cat fought down an annoyed growl. “And these lazy bottom-feeders think they’ll just smarm my company out from under me? The nerve.”

Rolland put his tablet away and stood in the chair. “Well, Marcy does put in the extra effort to sanitize your public image as a dilettante heiress. It stands to reason they might underestimate you.”

Elise dipped her head slightly at her partner before squaring up before their boss. “Was there anything else at the moment?”

Cat smiled at them both. “No, thank you; just keep monitoring SES and Joseph. I want to know the minute he decides to make his second play.”

The research team left, and Catherine buckled down to the mundane business of running her company.

...

Dolores looked aghast at the cougar sipping her wine. “You have a team specifically for evaluating creepy stalkers?!”

“Every company does,” Zabrina opined over her Waldorf Salad, while both Valerie and Lillian nodded sagely. “Business is downright cutthroat at times, especially where mergers and acquisitions are concerned.”

Judy threw up her paws when the squirrel looked her way. “Hey, don’t look at me! A bunch of my brothers and sisters are trained marksmammals and firefighters, just to deal with arson and feuds with some of our neighbors. All that seems more civilized in comparison to whatever this is.”

Valerie’s eyes lit up as she leaned forward. “Ooh! Grange Wars in the Tri-Burroughs?! You’ll have to let me in on the scoop when we’re done tonight.” She leaned back with a frown. “The last non-mammal interest piece I got to do was that business with your sister while in Afghanistan.”

Judy gave a nervous laugh. “Yeah, after. Right now, let’s get back to Cat.”

...

All was quiet on the western front the next day and the day after that. Cat was just pondering whether to reconvene with Elise and Rolland to adjust her strategy for a possible further delay when her desk phone rang in earnest. She picked it up with a suave, “This is Catherine Montaigne.”

<Good morning, ma’am.> Rolland spoke crisp and quick, and didn’t wait for her to respond before continuing. <You wanted to know when Joseph progressed in his machinations. You can expect a phone call within the next one to fifteen minutes.>

A smile tugged at Cat’s lips as the light on the second line of her phone lit up. “And speak of the devil. Cut it a little close to the bone on this one, Rolland, but thank you for the head’s up. I’ll be heading into combat so advise Clarence to hold all calls and appointments for the next hour, please.”

<At once, ma’am. Good luck.>

She released Rolland’s call and squared her shoulders, finger hovering over the blinking light. I’m not the one who needs luck.

She pressed the button and broke out her best docile, customer service voice. “This is Catherine Montaigne. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking to this morning?”

<Good morning Cat, it’s Joseph> the stag’s cultured baritone voice crooned. <I was hoping I could impose upon your company one evening this week? I have some prospective business partners coming in from abroad. I thought I’d introduce you to them while I wined-&-dined them on a yacht in the harbor.>

Cat was worried that she was rolling her eyes hard enough to be heard over the phone. “Oh, that sounds lovely, but I have so much that I should be doing. I couldn’t possibly...”

She left the statement hanging for the stag to pounce upon, which he did in very short order.

<Building business networks on my endorsement while sipping Louis Roedeerer champagne as the sun sets on the bay? Surely that type of opportunity trumps whatever day to day is currently on your no doubt impressive weekly agenda.>

His arrogance was palpable, and Cat licked her lips. She gave him a put-upon sigh. “Well, when you put it like that I suppose I could carve a chunk of time out of my schedule. Say around 6pm on Tuesday?”

<That works out perfectly for me! Trust me, dear, you won’t regret this. I’ll let you get back to your humdrum. Until Tuesday!>

“Tuesday it is. Oh, before you go, could you tell me who we’ll be dining with? I wouldn’t want to ruin the evening or your business propositions by wearing something that someone might consider… offensive . Important, as you know, to dress for your audience.”

<Dress for me, then.> He gave a light chuckle like that was a clever riposte. There was a short pause, and then she heard some clicking of keys from his end of the line. <But, to allay your concerns, I have received confirmations from Desmod Dholeman, Lucy Hart, and Esteban Monte’Cabra. I don’t think any of them are particularly sensitive, so dress for an evening of dinner and dancing.>

Cat opened a dictation program on her desktop, with an e-mail tab to her investigation team. “Desmod Dholeman, Lucy Hart, and Esteban Monte’Cabra, sounds impressive. I look forward to our rendezvous . Ciao-ciao!”

She resisted the urge to hang up before he did, and fired the names off to her team. She didn’t bother contemplating what she would need for Tuesday evening, as both Rolland and Elise were likely to have a more accurate estimation of what best to wear or not wear before close of business. Besides, she had more than enough formal wear; there was no need to go shopping on Joseph’s account.

She was just finishing up a review of contract renewals when she received the expected email. Of the mammals mentioned by Joseph, only one wasn’t an employee or associate of Starbuck’s: Esteban Monte’Cabra. The Chilean Mountain Goat was a contract negotiator for Mego-Cappra Soluciones Ejecutivas, SRL. The caprid himself was relatively clean, but Cat was familiar with MCSE’s reputation as international guns-for-hire; not the sort of mammals she wanted her business associated with.

The next night, Cat was brushing off one of her less risque evening gowns, when she received a call from Elise.

<Boss, I thought you should know that Joseph Starbuck recently–and by that I mean yesterday afternoon–commissioned a jewelry piece to fit a diamond.>

Cat quirked an eyebrow at the statement. “I know my charms, and even then this is a little fast. Do we know anything about it?” She wrinkled her nose. “It’s not a ring, is it?”

<No ma’am; it’s a single stone pendant. I had Rolland interview the jeweler–> Elise hesitated before continuing. <The jeweler believes the stone is a Conflict Diamond from Sierra Leone.>

Cat tossed the dress aside. “How certain are they?”

<Based on the serial number microengraving, very. The jeweler is a Leonin ex-pat, and Rolland says Starbuck had a security contract with one of the Juntas in the mid 90’s. This was likely part of ‘Payment for services rendered’.>

The mountain lioness choked back a growl and squared her shoulders. “Excellent work, both of you. You’ve more than earned a bonus this quarter.” She turned back to her closet, and marched up to a rack of Power Suits. “Both of you take care. I have another call to make before heading out.”

As soon as her line went dead, she hit the speed dial for Richard Davis.

“Dickie, it’s Cat. I know it’s last minute, but could I impose on you for a touch of theatrics? I need to make a statement to a particularly odious miscreant.” She pushed several pencil-skirts aside before arriving at a sleek black single-breasted blazer and slacks combo. “I know you’re hosting on the Seas the Day tonight. I’m counting on it, as this worm rented a dinghy from Otterdam Yacht Charter .” She set the suit aside and began looking for the perfect blouse to offset it. She paused and looked aghast at the phone. “Oh GOD no, not the submersible. I know you like showing it off, but even if I could fit inside the damnable thing, I can’t make an elegant exit with my tail sticking in the air trying to squeeze into the hatch. Just send one of the Cigarette launches: they’re nearly as long as the scow I’ll be on.” She got a wicked grin as she pulled a sleeveless red silk shirt off the rack. “I’ll call you when I’m ready for pickup; just tell the pilot to follow the smell of blood in the water. Thanks Dickie. Ciao-ciao!”

She hung up and walked the ensemble back into her bedroom before making one more call. 

“Renee, get the car ready. Once you’ve dropped me off, go ahead and take the night off. I’ll make other arrangements to get home.”

...

Catherine Montaigne stepped onto Pier Eight with the poise of an Empress ascending to her throne, and the confidence and grace of her ancient ancestors stalking her next victim. Joseph Starbuck was waiting at the foot of the boarding step. She could see how put off he was by her choice of attire, though he rallied quickly.

“That’s quite the look, Cat, though I was thinking of something more elegant.”

Cat spared him an imperious grin, while tipping her oversized black sunglasses down. “Oh Joseph, dahling; one can never go wrong with black ! Have the rest of our guests arrived?” She swept her gaze over the small yacht. 

It wasn’t a terrible vessel, all things considered: the yacht was a sleek craft styled after a charter fishing boat, though without the flying bridge. The aft set cabin allowed the bow to be open, and she could see and smell that a setting had been put out there. Once they were out in the harbor, the party could dine al fresco while enjoying the sunset. It almost seemed a shame that the evening was destined for ruin.

Almost.

“You arrived very close to fashionably late,” he teased, and offered his hoof to her. “We can cast off just as soon as you set your feet on deck.”

“Delightful.” She delicately accepted his hoof, paws tense at the touch; she had to concentrate to keep her claws stowed away. There would be time for them to make an appearance later. “Shall we away then?”

“Let’s.”

She indulged a little theatrics by lounging against the gunwale as the boat left the Pier and headed out into the harbor. She let her gaze drift over the other three passengers. Esteban was exactly what she expected: poised and dressed to the nines in a white linen suit. Desmond was in a more formal three piece suit, as expected from a member of Starbuck’s legal department. Finally, there was Lucy Hart in a charcoal blazer and pencil skirt, the CFO for ‘Byte-Runner Electronic Security’, one of Starbuck’s subsidiaries. She was also the only person onboard with a seat on the Shareholder’s Board for Starbuck, and as such the only person with real negotiating power.

Once they arrived on the edge of a shoal and anchored, to keep them out of traffic lanes, Joseph stepped out of the cabin and clapped his hooves together. “Well, why don’t we retire to the bow and enjoy the evening? Cat, I have something for you.” He stepped forward and pulled a crushed velvet box from inside his coat. Opening it, Cat saw the pendant she had been warned about.

Just as he moved to step behind her and adorn her with it, she slipped a single claw from its sheath and plucked it from his hoof. “Oh that’s lovely !” She rolled her wrist and examined the stone, even as she savored the buck’s discomfort at the barred lethal appendage. “Sadly, I don’t think it would go well with my current ensemble.” She deposited the jewel in her clutch. “Let’s not keep the others waiting, shall we?”

She stalked round the bridge without Joseph, and seated herself at the head of the table. She could hear the stutter in his hoof steps as he arrived to see her in ‘his’ seat.

“You should have waited,” he said, his eyebrows knitted like a pouting child would, though his voice remained even. “I would have pulled a-the seat out for you.”

“Oh pish-posh,” Cat smiled up at him, “there’s no need for that kind of formality. Now I am famished ! What delights have you arranged for us?”

Joseph took a breath and held it a moment before snapping for the waiting staff to begin bringing out the platters for the party. He sidestepped to the seat beside Cat and sat down.

The dinner was excellent, with both savory and aromatic options to appeal to all pallets. Cat could appreciate the attention to detail, even if she had every intention to ruin the evening. 

She made idle smalltalk with all of the guests, making sure not to intentionally snub Joseph any more than she had. She also watched how they all talked to each other. Desmond Dholeman retained an aloof air, and only spoke as much as was socially required. Joseph bantered as Cat had become accustomed to, though she saw a hint of tension any time Lucy spoke up. Ms. Hart was companionable enough with Esteban and Catherine, though she was always mildly terse with Joseph. Clearly, the sitting member of the Board didn’t appreciate being made a stage prop for Joseph’s scheme. Esteban himself was civil enough, though Cat noticed he observed her more than he spoke, while he was quite animated with both Desmond and Lucy.

It was clear to Cat that Senior Monte’Cabra was watching the dynamic rather than participating in the evening, while Lucy and Desmond considered Catherine to be nothing more than set dressing for the evening. She had a feeling about what Starbuck had in mind for her company, though she would need to confirm some details first.

“Oh, that was lovely .” Cat gave an intentionally languid stretch. “I hope you don't mind if I head below deck to freshen up before we enjoy the sunset?”

She suppressed a growl at the dismissive eye-roll she received from Lucy, though Joseph managed to act the good host.

“Of course. One of the crew will show you to the privy.”

Once out of view, Cat sent a quick request to her research team about any recent activity between Starbuck and MCSE. The response came back a minute later: Starbuck had been trying to secure a merger with MCSE for two years, but couldn’t put up enough capital. They had been in negotiation with several other small security firms with (hinted at) offers for asset sales, though Starbuck didn’t have several of the promised assets in their portfolio.

Knight-Howlton did.

She sent a thank you, then stepped out into the crisp sea air with her well-known laser focus trained on destroying Joseph Starbuck and his family.

She headed back to the table, all pretense of play cast aside. Joseph had taken ‘his’ seat back.

“Ah, Catherine,” he pulled the side seat out without standing up, “we were just about...”

He trailed off in confusion as she strode to the opposite head of the table.

“ You were about to do nothing, Joseph,” Cat removed her glasses and stared down at the other seated guests. “There are only three people at this table authorized to negotiate anything. You may be Silas’ nephew, but that means less than nothing to the Board of Directors.” Her head shifted ever so slightly to lock eyes with the now very attentive Ms. Hart. “That is what this night is about after all; you negotiating the acquisition of Knight-Howlton to secure capital for a merger with Mego-Cappra Soluciones Ejecutivas.” 

There was no question in her voice, and the silence of the table was all the answer she needed. She saw Joseph begin trying to grow in his rack, so to speak, but Cat was done with pleasantries. “I would suggest you curb your inhibitions, lest I decide to confirm if this ,” she drew out the necklace and spun it around her finger, “little trinket has an authentic Kimberly Process Certificate. It would be most unfortunate if it were found that Starbuck was dealing in Conflict Diamonds, wouldn’t you agree?” Her attention shifted to Desmond Dholeman.

Joseph sputtered for a second before the dour lawyer cleared his throat and stared the buck back into his seat. “Starbuck Executive Solutions has made no formal offers for any transaction with regards to, or using as collateral, Conflict Diamonds.” His gaze remained laser focused on Joseph. “Any private transactions regarding the same would be entirely within the realm of hearsay.”

“Oh, the proof is in this proverbial pudding, but this bauble is really only worth fourteen thousand. I wouldn’t even need to claim it on my taxes.” She stopped spinning the jewelry and clenched it in her fist. “That does not excuse the implication that I can be bought or blackmailed with baubles.” Her arm flashed, and the sun glinted beautifully off the necklace as it sailed over the rail and into the Bay with a satisfying Splash!

Her attention shifted back to Lucy and Esteban. Ms. Hart was buried in sour grimace, while Monte’Cabre eyed her with new appreciation.

“You’ve made your point, Miss Montaigne,” he said. “What do you want?”

“Nothing.” The entire table recoiled in shock at that declaration. “ Your deal,” she pointed a claw at Lucy Hart, “was contingent on acquiring my company and chopping it up for collateral.” She resheathed the claw and clasped her paws behind her back. “Rest assured, that will not be happening.” She looked back at Esteban. “Our two companies don’t share any interests, and your company’s focus on more kinetic business does not align with mine. You on the other paw,” her eyes swept the remainder of the table, “do share some of the same market space. I want that market space, and all I have to do to get it,” she leaned forward over the table and gave Joseph a toothy grin, “is wait.

“SES is in decline, what with the cooling of hostilities in the Middle East and the League of Nations refocusing on Vinland/Acadia. Your deal with MCSE was a last desperate gasp to stay alive. When news gets out how badly that went, your stock couldn’t be liquidated to pay for cab fare.”

She stood back up and sent a quick text as she sauntered towards the stern, where a truly massive sleek ship could be seen steadily approaching. “I suppose, if you play your cards right, companies like MCSE might be willing to hire you on as they snatch up their portion of your market presence,” she heard the caprid bleat out a short laugh. “Best make sure your resumes are up to date; the job market is cut-throat these days.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Cat stepped onto the gunnel as a sleek racing boat in ‘Hollander International’ livery pulled alongside, “I have another engagement this evening.”

She donned her shades and fought down a snort as she stepped onto the Cigarette boat, to see Richard Davis in a driver’s suit at the helm. “Pardon me miss, do any of you have any Gray Poupon?”

“Oh please, they couldn’t afford it now.” She gave a theatrical wave, and Dickie powered away from the Ship of Fools. 

...

“Wait,” Judy set her entree aside and squinted at Cat, “ that’s why Dickie was so smug last month? He all but strutted around like a peacock for days!”

Catherine chuckled as she sipped her wine. “You know Dickie loves theatrics, and the chance to ‘rescue the damsel’ was simply impossible to pass up. I wish you could have seen it, though. It was just priceless. ” She glanced over at Dolores and Lilly who both looked slightly gobsmacked. “What?”

Dolores tossed back her shot before cracking open a roasted acorn. “Oh, nothing , just listening to my millionaire friend talk about intentionally sabotaging a business deal with an international Private Military Corporation by casually enlisting the aid of one of the wealthiest mammals on the West Coast. ” She huffed. “I’ll bet the suit you wore cost more than my car.”

“Hey now, none of that.” Pearl attempted to cut the cloud of tension that settled around Cat and Dolores by tossing a balled up napkin in their general direction. “All still friends here, aren’t we? Just because the shenanigans were highbrow doesn’t make them any less shareable. Maybe next time you can cut the rest of us in on some of that high drama, too. I know I’d just love the opportunity to play the role of a highbred Southern belle one of these days.”

Cat chirred out a bitter laugh. “I promise, the next time I get up to ‘shenanigans’ that don’t involve Professional Killers and Soldiers of Fortune, I’ll RSVP all of you.”

The table chuckled, with even Dolores snorting out a single laugh before settling into her cup again.

“Something sweet for the ladies to round out the evening?” They all turned in the direction of the voice they knew well at this point. Tailor stood behind Pearl’s chair with small dessert menus ready to distribute. “We do have a special this evening: house-made Strawberry Shortcake with fresh whipped heavy cream.”

As the ladies all mulled the choices, he leaned in close to Pearl. “I’ve asked the bartender to begin diluting the miss’ drinks.” He flicked an ear meaningfully towards Dolores.

Pearl smiled at the canine and mouthed, ‘Thank you’.

He returned a wink and straightened up. “What’ll it be then? Desserts for anyone? Maybe coffee?”

“Not for me, thanks,” Judy said and pushed the dessert menu away. “Another bite more and I’ll pop. Besides, sweets or coffee at this hour and I’ll be bouncing off the walls all night.”

“Well I’m splurging,” declared Lilly. “I don’t mind bouncing off a few walls with Mitch while the Kittens are with my parents.”

Both Zib and Val coughed a laugh into their drinks. “I know you’re making up for lost time with Mitch,” Valerie dabbed her chin dry, “but we don’t need a play-by-play!”

“Minds out of the gutter you two! I just want to watch some actual shows tonight, not the umpteenth viewing of Baby Shark!” She shot a mock glare at Judy, as the doe whistled the first three notes of the infamous song. “Don’t make me come over there.”

Lilly eventually settled on taking advantage of the special, as did Val. Cat and Zib ordered coffees and the orders took a long pause at Dolores, who was staring at the menu with an unusual and somber intensity. A few glances were exchanged and Val placed a gentle paw on her shoulder.

“Okay there, Dolores? It’s just dessert.”

“You know, it’s funny,” Dolores eventually murmured. “It’s been so long since I’ve had Baklava. My grandmother would make it for parties, and I would always sneak a second piece. I should get it; I would love it. But… but I think every bite would just taste like garbage.” Her tail brushed out and twitched in agitation, even as her face remained passive. “He ruined it for me; all his little coffee-shop 'working dates’, chats over lunch, gah! I could just spit that all his garbage is still in my head. Ruining things I love.”

More glances were exchanged and Pearl hastily collected the menus. “Whatever that is for her, and I think that’ll be all we need tonight.”

“Right then,” Tailor replied evenly, and accepted the menus from her. “I’ll be back with everyone’s orders shortly.”

Once the waiter had departed, Judy reached over to the still quivering rodent and brushed her back. “Are you okay? Is there anything you want to talk about?”

Dolores froze in place for a moment, then snatched up her drink. “Want to, no.” She polished off her wine in a single pull. “Need to, probably.” She looked at the empty placemat.

“Well, I know I’m not the only one who’s all ears. Whenever you’re ready.”

Chapter 5: Not Hot for Teacher

Summary:

Dolores relives a personal nightmare, while the Grrls try to keep her light shining.

Notes:

Trigger Alert: Of all the chapters, this was the most difficult to write as it deals with the very difficult, very real subject of psychological manipulation and sexual assault. While there are no graphic depictions, I must still advise reader discretion.

Dolores scampered across campus to the Jane Newhart Interdisciplinary Studies Building . The competition for the Academic Undergraduate program had been only slightly less cut-throat than the scholarship. With her family already in hock for the restaurant in the Maharashtra neighborhood of the Rainforest District, and her father’s disapproval of her ‘lifestyle choices’ like dating Lilly Anders, she couldn’t expect anything more from her family than best wishes. She could not afford to screw this up!

She arrived at the office of her assigned Doctoral Advisor. A bright, shiny name plate on the door read “Richard M. Dickson, PhD Inter-Species Communications”. Dolores rapped on the door and then straightened herself up, taking a deep calming breath through her nose to alleviate the adrenaline rush from the mad sprint across campus. From within a pleasant, velveteen voice called out, “Come in!” and she complied at once.

“Here we go,” Dolores whispered under her breath as she pushed open the door. She had heard about Professor Dickson from around campus, and he had a reputation for being a stalwart champion for his Undergraduate and Graduate students. The slight Dik-Dik in an almost stereotypical Tweed jacket was a surprising contrast to the reputation of the Dean of Interdisciplinary Studies. But he’d chosen her out of the short list of half a dozen Doctoral candidates, so she wasn’t about to judge him based on his attire.

The office itself was a warm reddish brown of stained wooden bookshelves. There were several editions easily as tall and heavy as either of them, with titles in microprint that still filled the spine. The wall behind his desk was festooned with various diplomas and certificates, while the one she had passed through was floor to ceiling framed awards. The desk he was sitting behind was oversized, yet still covered in piles of papers and a computer monitor bigger than he was tall.

“Professor Dickson,” Dolores started as she came in the office, “sorry, Doctor Dickson, sir, I’m--”

The Dik-Dik gave a short wheezing laugh. “Please, no need to be so formal! When we’re in the office you can simply call me Richard.” He gestured across the expansive mahogany desk; it loomed as she approached it, and was almost as large as her dorm room. “Have a seat, Miss Twitchel, so we can get to know each other.” He seemed to hesitate as if remembering something. “Or is it Mrs. Twitchel? Or would you prefer Dolores?” 

Dolores paused herself. First meeting was hardly the time to offend her Academic Advisor. “No, Dolores is fine... Richard. I’m not married, and I just think Miss Twitchel is a bit much.”

She saw something flash across his eyes for a moment, before an almost paternal smile split his face. “Very well, Dolores. Let’s discuss your aspirations in academia, and how I will help you achieve them.”

“Absolutely,” she said with a vigorous nod, and pulled a color coded portfolio from her messenger bag. Her face blanked in momentary horror. “Oh crud, should I have made a copy for you? I didn’t even think of it until just now–”

“Oh, that’s quite alright. I’m here to guide you, not control you.” He chuckled and waved at her. “We have literal years to build upon everything you have learned. I can wait a few days for you to make a couple of photocopies. For now, come on up here and talk me through it while I take a look.” He scooted over and patted the wide seat beside him.

She passed the portfolio to him and settled into the chair at what she hoped would be considered an acceptable amount of personal space between herself and her brand new Sponsor.

...

Dolores’ head was down as she re-lived her first few weeks as a grad student, unaware of the aghast, and in two cases genuinely angry faces around the table.

“It was great at first, you know? Just him and me in his office discussing my studies, my plans for my dissertation. Real, deep conversations too. The kind of feedback I needed to bring my thesis to a whole new level. It was… I was…”

“Did he swipe your thesis?” Val asked bluntly, a subtle rumble in her throat. “That happened to one of my college friends. She fought tooth and nail about it when she went to finalize her dissertation, only to be told it had already been published. They accused her of plagiarism, the nerve… all that work and she had to settle for a Masters. She was just devastated.”

Dolores scoffed and downed her drink. “God, I wish it had just been that.”

...

Dolores scurried across the Campus Mall to her appointment with Professor Dickson. She’d finally managed some time to sit down with Lilly for lunch; and while it wasn’t as relaxed as their pre-Doctoral dates were, it was all she could manage with the Professor’s grueling schedule those last few months. There was just so much to do!

She scampered up to Prof... Richard’s door, gave a perfunctory knock and rushed inside.

“Good afternoon!”

Richard looked up from his computer, glancing between Dolores and a wall mounted clock. “Cutting it a little close today?” 

His tone was chiding more than angry, but Dolores still heard the mild reproach in his voice. “I know, I’m sorry. My lunch date with Lilly went on a bit longer than I expected.”

He considered her for a moment before giving an easy smile and gesturing towards her usual chair. “I suppose that’s to be expected. I have been working you rather hard. If it’s too much, well...” His smile faded slightly as he steepled his fingers. “I need to know you are dedicated to this process; there is no room for half-hearted interest at this level of academia."

“Oh no,” Dolores’ whole body shook with the force of her shaking her head. “I might not have expected this pace, but I am one hundred percent committed to our work!”

The smile was back on his muzzle, with just a hint of mischief. “That’s good to hear, because this is about the time when the wheat separates from the chaff. If you have any reservations about your dedication…”

She shook her head again. “I’m ready for whatever I need to do to reach the next level. No question.”

What was needed, apparently, was a doubling of their collaborative hours. Within a month, they were meeting at the Teacher’s Union, the library at nearly closing hours, anywhere that was open, had free WiFi, and provided a modicum of privacy. She’d had to cancel several outings with Lilly due to last minute meetings with the Professor.

All in the name of her Doctorate.

One such evening of research and debate was at the Student Union building. They were just sitting down to discuss the lecture from a visiting Professor of Proto-Linguistics when Dolores caught sight of Lilly and her roommate. They met her eyes and waved, then immediately rose from their own table to walk over.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Lilly said as she stopped in front of Dolores.

“Yeah, Dr. Chompski’s lecture just let out a few minutes ago. We’re just grabbing a quick bite here while looking over my notes.”

She gestured at the Professor, who gave a curt nod at the others.

“Oh,” Lilly perked up, “we were too late to sign up for attendance. Could we sit in? I’d love to hear what the Doctor had to say!”

Richard gave a wheezing snort. “While I am generally happy to teach anyone who is interested, I’m afraid we are discussing the interaction of several high level socio-linguistic principles. I need to focus on the student I do have an obligation towards.”

“...ah.” She exchanged a tense look with her roommate, who only shrugged. When she turned back to Dolores, she’d managed a tight smile. “Sure, makes sense. We wouldn’t want to derail your work. Have a good night then. Catch you later?”

The question was aimed at Dolores, who nodded and watched them slowly walk off before assuming her seat across from the professor.

Richard cleared his throat as he glanced down at the notes on the table. “I suppose that could have gone better. I’m sorry if your friend can’t accept your dedication.”

“What?” Dolores looked back at the professor in mild shock. “But she said--”

“Dolores,” he looked up at her and pursed his lips, “you need to look past spoken words and see the underlying meanings in actions. That was what tonight’s lecture was largely about, or weren’t you paying attention?” Dolores jolted in her seat, and thought about the last exchange. “You saw the tension in her posture, and her deference to her associate. It’s entirely understandable to seek company when feeling deviation from an accepted norm, and comfort when feeling rejected.

“I think, perhaps, we are done for the night,” Professor Richardson gathered the scattered notes and put them away. “Fraught emotions aren’t very conducive to good study, and you might want to take some time to process before we dive back into this tomorrow.”

Dolores walked back to her dorm room, her tail barely above the dusty ground. 

...

Dolores spent the next several weeks burying herself in her studies. Every time she thought about contacting Lilly to ask her out, to apologize to her, or even just to talk to her, Professor Dickson’s words snapped at her conscience. The opportunity to work with Richard as her mentor was too great to risk for an afternoon dalliance, right? That was what he said after all, and who was she to argue; Professor Richard Dickson, PhD. was almost legendary on campus for turning out some of the most dedicated academics of the current generation.

So she buckled down and got to it. She did everything he said, for as long as he said. The hours began to become more grueling, but the outcomes were exceptional. Her research and sources were tight; each section had been reorganized to form a much clearer path to the conclusion that she’d postulated.

It all seemed worth it. Two and a half months both flew and dragged by, her study sessions split between her own home and Richard’s office (due to the extreme hours, and to ‘avoid socially awkward interruptions’). It was a blur accented with Times New Roman 12 point font and Amerigon Psychological Association format citations until all of a sudden, somehow, she’d placed the final period at the end of her very last citation.

She blinked in disbelief at the document. Nearly a year and one hundred and fifty three pages now sat before her, only awaiting the final proof by her sponsor before she began preparing for her academic defense.

“I... I think it’s done,” her voice rose with every syllable until she nearly squeaked in her excitement. “It’s done! That’s the last source citation!”

“Oh?” Richard left the bookcase and came up behind her, leaning in so their cheeks were practically touching. at the laptop screen in front of her. He shifted some of the papers around and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “So it is. Many congratulations, Dolores. You’ve completed your first full thesis draft. This is a real achievement very few can claim.” He stepped back and gave her a proud smile tinged with... something. “This calls for a celebration.”

Dolores twitched slightly at the suggestion; Richard had always seemed very formal with her, even if he did insist on first names. It reminded her a little of how Lilly would describe her own dad. “Are you sure? It’s kinda late.”

“Nonsense,” the Dik-Dik swept his coat off the rack by the door. “We’ve been working each other to the nub on this, and we both deserve a break; and if there aren’t any places open, I can guarantee one place that will be.”

Dolores followed Richard out the door and out the building into the light of the street lamps. A cold gust of wind shot right through her autumn windbreaker. Her whole body shivered, and the twitch of her bushed out tail must have caught Richard’s attention.

“Maybe we’ll head straight for my alternate choice,” he said as he draped his tweed coat over her shoulders.

“It’s alright,” Dolores yawned even as she burrowed into the warmth of the coat against the late night chill. “I’ll just head home.”

“What, and have you wandering the campus at this hour, alone ? I’ll not hear of it!” His arm rested across her tired shoulders and began guiding her along. “Besides, it’s a shorter walk than to your dormitory.”

Their trek led them to the campus housing for faculty.

Dolores hesitated as Richard ushered them up the brick steps of a tasteful two story Brownstone. “Um, Professor? Is--”

“Tut-tut-tut,” the Dik-Dik chided as his keys jangled, “we’ve been over this; it’s Richard to you.”

The name froze in her mouth, as her sleep-deprived mind tried to parse the emotions she was feeling. “Is this appropriate ?”

“What could be more appropriate tonight?” He swept her grandly into the foyer of his University provided home. 

A light popped on overhead, bathing the foyer in a soft warm yellow. The walls were a rich paneling the same kind of dark wood as the floor. Like his office had been extended all the way across campus, off to one side was a sitting area, walls lined with built in bookcases chock full of thick tomes. The chairs were plump and inviting. Long red drapes swept at the floor. There was even a full fireplace, with wood stacked and ready to be lit. Dolores absently set her laptop case behind the low armchair nearest the door.

“We’ve earned this.” Twitchel almost didn’t hear the dead-bolt over her distraction at the space. Her tail was fully bushed out as she spun in her seat, but Richard was already making his way deeper into the home.

“Normally I would ask you your preferences, but tonight I feel like indulging.” Dolores tracked his movements through the cozy dining nook on the other side of a shelved partition. “I have some friends down in Napa who own a vineyard. They send me a very fine year for my Birthday every year. I keep a couple of bottles for special occasions.” He came out with a pair of wine glasses and a nearly opaque wine bottle.

“There’s no need for all that, sir,” Delores fought to keep her voice from squeaking.

“Of course there is,” he deftly opened the bottle, poured the glasses, and gracefully leapt into the chair beside her. “We’re celebrating, and I’m hosting. Don’t be an ingracious guest now.” He extended a glass towards her.

Dolores chittered nervously as she took the proffered glass, avoiding the unsettling look he was giving her.

“Relax, Dolores. Don’t you think yourself entitled to a break and a treat for a job well done?” He sipped his glass and gestured at her. “It really is a delicious vintage. Robust body, smooth finish. Even a touch sweet.”

“I, ah… I’m just not much of a wine drinker, really. Bit of a lightweight, heh… but that’s par for most small mammals, I think, you know…”

She did take a small pull of the drink just to stop the stupid rambling she was starting to launch into. It was tasty, more sweet than tart like the wines that her family would usually pour for special occasions. Those she could barely stomach a sip of. This… was decidedly delightful. Dangerously so.

By halfway through the first glass, Dolores had lost a little of the tension in her tail. Richard was a good conversationalist, even if the setting was more intimate than she was comfortable with. 

He shook his head and chuckled as she continued to chitter nervously. “Please Dolores, relax,” he patted her knee, “you don’t need to be so tense around me.”

Chittering became a full shriek as she felt the hoof move to her inner thigh. Everything was a blur of red for a moment until she came to a stop on top of one of Richard’s tall bookcase. She saw her professor, the mammal whom she had come to trust and rely on for the past year, scowling down at his wine-soaked shirt and furniture. He turned his glare at her.  “What was that about?!”

“ Tuhāḍā kī matalaba hai, kī ?! (What do you mean, what?!) ” Her distressed mind shifted back to her childhood Punjabi, as if in another argument with her grandmother.

He set his glass on the table and stalked over to the bookcase. “ You came to me , with your oh-so innocent eyes and come-hither tail; you spent a year looking for any excuse to spend time with me, then you come into my home, drink my wine, and spurn me when I finally reciprocate?!”

“I did no such thing!” Did I? a little voice in the back of her mind whispered.

“Didn’t you?” 

Her mouth went dry, all the sweetness of the wine suddenly turned sour on her tongue. The edges of the room turned wavy, a subtle swaying turning her stomach over. Her eyes darted, trying to power through the movement that spelled danger, searching for the way out.

“Y-you were assigned as my Sponsor! I only sought you out because you have a reputation for success with students seeking doctorates!”

He paced the floor as he watched her. “Yes, with students who are willing to commit one hundred percent.” He stopped, conspicuously between her and the front door. “I thought that included you, until now.” There was a finality in his tone; an unspoken ultimatum.

Dolores felt her stomach lurch with repulsion. Desperate to get away her eyes roved endlessly, up to the tops of the bookshelves, the corners of the ceiling, the windowsills, the fireplace…

Ah! She finally caught a glimpse of something: a single oak leaf shifting on top of the still unlit wood pile. The flu is open!

She launched herself into the iron fireback, toppling the sticks and tinder and she scrambled to right herself. She spared no more attention to Richard’s voice as she scurried up the creosote and soot covered chimney. She couldn’t see anything, and for a moment panicked that there might be a cap on the chimney, but still climbed. There was a soft bong as she collided with a tin rain cover, but she could see the streets and trees surrounding the faculty housing.

Once out of the chimney, she raced across the rooftops, and then the treetops, desperate to be anywhere but there !

...

“I just... ran ,” Dolores stared vacantly as she pushed away the long-since abandoned entree. “I didn’t have any plan beyond getting away from him !” She hugged herself without looking at anything in particular. “I felt so dirty, so violated, so--”

“ Betrayed .” Dolores looked over to see Zib’s pained expression. “Your mentor promised you their expertise, their guidance, their confidence , and then betrayed your trust.” The vixen glanced around the table. “You can get cut pretty bad when you try to bust through the ‘glass ceiling’.”

“Desserts for you, ladies.” The reverie was broken as their waiter came around with another of his co-workers pulling up behind him with a cart. There were various confections, as well as a fresh set of drinks. Tailor sidled up to Pearl and leaned in as his teammate began distributing the items. “I’ve had the bartender dial back the alcohol in your friends’ drinks,” he whispered. “Those and dessert will be comped.”

Pearl glanced at the sympathetic smile on the canid and mouthed Thank you , before returning her focus back to the table..

Once the staff had headed back to the kitchen, everyone looked at Dolores. The Giant Squirrel looked down at the serving of Baklava on the plate in front of her. It covered almost the entire plate, with one corner hanging off the rim.

She used her fork to shear off the overhanging corner, and stared at the pastry. Her tail twitched as her expression flashed between shame, longing, fear, and unbridled rage. Her face settled on defiance just before tearing into the dessert. She chewed slowly at first, a tear threatening her eyes as she did. The tears were soon free as she began relishing the pastry.

Everyone allowed Dolores her moment, as they each began their own desserts. Within a few short minutes, the plates were scraped clean of every last morsel. 

Dolores set the fork aside and wiped her face clean of crumbs and tear-stains. “Anyway.” She shook her head and picked up her freshened drink. “I eventually made it back to my dorm. I just locked the door and hid under the covers, trying to come to grips with what had happened.”

...

“Dolores?”

The Giant Squirrel peeked her head out from under her covers for the first time in two days as her door creaked, admitting her girlfriend Lilly-Anne Summers. She sniffled and ducked back under, curling into an even tighter ball of blankets and ruffled fur. She didn’t even have the voice to tell her to go away; all that came out was a raspy squeak.

Her bed shook slightly as Lilly sat on the edge of the mattress beside her. “Oh God, are you alright?! There are all these crazy rumors going around about...” Lilly stopped as Dolores curled tighter in on herself. After a few seconds of indecision she set her paw on what she supposed was the general vicinity of Dolores’ shoulder. The lump twitched. “Hey… come on, talk to me. What’s wrong? What happened?”

“I-” Dolores squeaked out from her parched and raw throat, “I messed up.”

Lilly started to peel back the covers, when she saw and smelled the soot-covered squirrel underneath. She gawped for a moment before helping her friend sit up. “Okay. First, let’s get you cleaned up--” there was a surprisingly loud growl from Dolores’ stomach, “and fed; then we can talk. How’s that sound?”

Dolores allowed herself to be guided through a perfunctory cleaning ritual, and then dressed in a simple ZU Sweats and Hoodie. Once she was moving again, Dolores became more motivated by the promise of food. Lilly took them to a small off-campus diner that normally served waterfront district commuters, and was lightly populated at the late morning hour.

One short-stack of Silver-Dollar walnut and raisin pancakes later, and Dolores was feeling much more mammalian, and talkative.

“...and I just ran!” She absently swirled her tea. “Up a chimney, no less… ruined my sweatshirt… you know, the one with the thumbhole in the sleeve… I really liked that one…”

Her fidgeting was halted when Lilly’s smaller paws wrapped her own. She glanced up, expecting to see judgment all over her girlfriend’s face, but only saw genuine support and concern there..

Her vision became watery, and her own paws shook as days of self loathing leaked out with more tears. She didn’t know when Lilly scurried around to hold her tight. “You didn’t mess up,” Lilly whispered as Dolores wept. She didn’t know how long they sat there, though her tea was tepid by the time she was back to herself.

“Feels like I did. And I don’t even know what to do about it now.”

“Well, I know what I would do about it–” Lily's eyes flashed momentarily, but as quickly as it flared up it was doused again, “But what do you want to do?”

Dolores froze in the face of a question that she had no ready answer to. Internally she spun the Wheel of Misfortune. What options that came to mind could hardly be considered better in any way. She could report this and fight, relive the horror over and over again pleading her case and still potentially lose it… he was a tenured professor after all. And what would losing mean? Also losing all her progress toward the degree she’d been working so hard for, how could she choose that? She could switch advisors maybe? But was that even an option this late in the semester? Then there was the responsibility set squarely on her shoulders, responsibility to future students like her, who might be hurt in the same way if she let this go. What was she to do? What would hurt less, because every option would at least hurt somehow.

She was no closer to an answer than she was two days ago. Instead Dolores just chuffed out a spiteful laugh. “Get the last year of my life back, or at least get my laptop back. I left it there… wasn’t thinking, I forgot all about it when I bolted. ”  

Lilly gave her a quick squeeze. “It’s a start.” She frowned as Dolores began shivering again.

“I... I can’t go back there!” She curled into her friend’s side. “I just can’t face him !”

Lilly hugged her girlfriend close. “Then you won’t; I will! Come on.”

She stood and pulled Dolores after her while dropping a loose pile of bills on the table. “We’ll head somewhere you can lay low and out of his reach, while I get your life back.”

They made their way back to campus, though they avoided most of the more populated areas. Lilly handed Dolores off to the Student Advocacy Counselor before scurrying off to Campus Police offices.

Dolores spent the next day getting to know her temporary home at the Battered Femme’s shelter. She spoke to some of the other females there, played some with a few of the children who had escaped with their mothers, and had a short session with a sexual assault counselor. She even managed to get a solid night’s sleep; despite the lack of familiarity, the house lived up to its program name, ‘The Safe Place’. When she woke up again Monday morning she was far closer to feeling like things were on their way back to being manageable again.

At breakfast, she was told that Lilly had asked to meet with her. Arrangements were made to meet at the Diner from the day before. Dolores’ escort Holly sat at a nearby booth, as she went over to sit with Lilly. It was obvious to Dolores that whatever Lilly had been up to since they last ate here wasn’t to her liking. As she sat down, her hackles went up and tail bristled from something internal not yet shared. She smoothed her paws over both to settle them, and took a deep breath.

“So I went to the Campus Police Offices to report Professor Richards,” Lilly bit out. “Turns out, he reported you ! Says you, ‘accosted him’ in his offices after hours, then threatened to file a sexual assault charge against him if he didn’t go along. Campus Police are investigating on his behalf!”

Dolores blinked. At some level she heard the words but it took a few extra seconds for them to start digging in. When they finally did, when her inner righteous fury got a good look at all their ugliness, she started laughing. A fractured, ugly laugh without a hint of joy in it.

“Figures, doesn’t it?” she asked rhetorically, and her chest heaved as the laughter began to break apart into what was surely about to become sobs. Though she attempted to pull air into her lungs, somehow it never quite felt like it reached them. Her throat burned. “You know, I… I thought about this. I did, when I was… when I holed myself up, somewhere in there I thought ‘get up and tell someone!’ but I… but I couldn’t make my legs work, or… or… and now it looks like I’m the asshole here…”

Holly put a reassuring paw on her shoulder. “It’s a completely common trauma response to run and hide, and that’s not your fault. It’s your brain attempting to protect you from further assault. You couldn’t choose the action it decided to take any more than you can choose to stop breathing.”

“Well, it chose wrong, didn’t it?!” Dolores voice turned shrill and accusatory, and she instantly regretted the outburst. Holly was only trying to help and guide her. She bit her tongue and muttered an apology, but the Bay Cat was neither insulted or hurt by the verbal barbs. She dropped her paw from Dolores’ shoulder to cover her paw.

“What can we do about it now?” Lilly hugged her friend close. “Professor Richards has the Teachers Union, and Tenure, and he’s well respected by the Deans, and we’re just a couple of Grad Students.”

“The resources he has are not insignificant, true. But I would say that you have the one thing on your side that’s the most important, and that’s the truth of what he’s done. What he’s probably done before, and will do again if given the opportunity.” She placed her paws over her heart. “And you will have my support, and that of the Shelter Group. If you choose to try and claw your way back, that is yours. At the least you will want to get on record what actually happened, since he’s already attempting to spin the narrative in his own favor.”

Dolores took a few shuddering breaths, then squared her shoulders. “You’re damned right I want to claw my way back!” She gave Lilly-Anne a grateful look at the squeeze to her shoulders. “At a minimum, I want to get my laptop back. Maybe I can salvage that much of my life from this.”

Once settled up with the diner, they all climbed into Holly’s car and drove directly to Professor Richardson’s house. They arrived about when Dolores expected her former professor to be preparing or finishing his morning tea.

She regretted that her delicate paws would not allow her to rap on the door properly, so she settled on jamming her claw against the buzzer until the door opened.

“Oh,” was all he said when he saw them, the singular word steeped in annoyance. “I have nothing to say to you,” he glanced at the two mammals with Dolores, “to any of you. I’ve filed my report. It says everything that needs to be said. I’ll thank you to leave my home at once.”

Dolores caught the quickest of glimpses of her laptop, still nestled against the side of his couch. “You have nothing to say to me, but I have plenty to say to you.” She shook as she eked the words out between gritted teeth.

Richard stepped back and said, “Say it to campus police when they arrive,” as he closed the door on them.

It took less than ten minutes for a campus Police electric cart to arrive. A pair of Coyotes stepped out and approached the trio. The female of the pair stepped forward, while her partner watched the trio. “Miss Twitchel, we have a report that you are harassing a member of the faculty.”

“I’m sure you have Professor Richardsons’ report on events,” Dolores bit out. “I’m trying to set the record straight and take back what’s mine. He assaulted me in this house last Friday night.”

“That is a lie.” The door popped back open and Richard leaned out. “As I stated to you officers already. That girl has never set foot in this house.”

“ You’re the liar!” Dolores felt her composure slipping and was on the verge of tears.

The female officer put out a placating paw toward her. “Miss, why don’t we step inside for a while so we can get some information taken down for you–”

“I won’t need ‘a while’.” She dropped her voice and cast a pleading expression up at the officer. “He’s lying. He hurt me. I can prove it if you listen, please.”

The coyote blinked. She cast her eyes back at her partner, then at the smugly smiling professor at the door, then back down at the squirrel. She leaned in, and quirked her ear as she wrapped her arm around Dolores, leading her back to where the others stood on the sidewalk.

“Listening.”

Dolores felt her heart leap, and she chittered a quick, “Laptop bag. Behind armchair by the front window.”

“Now, you wait here. No nonsense from any of you, okay?” She turned to her partner and jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “Let me get an official statement from Professor Richardson and we’ll head back.”

Richard smirked confidently as he opened his door wide. “By all means, I am more than happy to cooperate. I have nothing to hi--” he balked as the officer stepped past him and plucked a small mammal computer bag off the floor near his favorite chair.

“Property of Dolores Twitchell,” she read the tag on the front of the laptop bag. “Odd thing for you to have, Professor, if this lady has, as you just stated, never been to your house.”

“I have no idea how that got there,” Richard almost kept the alarm from his voice.

“Of course you don’t,” Dolores called out as she pointed at the Dik-Dik, “ you were too busy getting that ‘oh-so-fancy’ wine from your kitchen to see where I put it. I brought it here with me, but you were too focused on ‘something else’ to care about a little detail like one FLUFFING YEAR OF MY LIFE , -huff huff- being left behind.” 

The Dik-Dik gave the assembled mammals a cold look before taking out his phone. “I think I would like my lawyer present before making any further statements.”

Dolores glared back at him, while Lilly hugged her to her side.

Chapter 6: Last Call

Summary:

All good things must come to an end, and so it is with this story.
I would once again like to thank Paperclipbutterfly, aka Pandora for co-authoring this work, as well as Kora_Cottontail and Lord Krauss for beta reading.
The stories of the Sons of Efrafa are far from over, but for now it's Last Call.

Dolores chuffed a bitter laugh over her drink glass. “Fat lot of good all that did; Campus Police have my laptop and dissertation ‘as evidence’, and the Uni just wants the whole thing to go away. They’ve promised to give me back my computer, ‘once this regrettable case is closed’.” She thumped the drink down in frustration. “All they’ve offered is to give me a new Sponsor if I drop the charges, otherwise they’ll just drag the ‘investigation’ out until I quit. The Shelter Group has offered their legal team for support, but there's only so much they can do if the University starts dragging its paws.”

Pearl, Zabrina and Lily all gave Dolores sympathetic looks, while Judy, Catherine and Valerie looked ready for violence.

“That-that...OOOHHH!” Judy visibly vibrated in her chair. “If they think they can just sweep this under the rug, they have another thing coming!” She looked over at Zib. “I may need you to lean on Nick. He’s been a little gun shy around his past, now that he’s with the Detectives’ Squad. I’m willing to bet he has, or can get, dirt on any or all of the Campus Police.” She chirred her teeth while gripping the table. “A little dishonesty, to keep them honest.”

Zib looked slightly alarmed at the ruthless glint in the rabbit’s eyes and was not comforted by the nasty smile on Valerie’s face. 

“While you put pressure on the Campus Police, I’ll see about turning the public eye on them; Growley and Moosebridge are both UZ alumni, so I think I can get them onboard to sway the editor. We’re coming up on Sweeps Week, and a nice expose on corruption in the UZ faculty would certainly bring in the viewership!” She chuckled darkly while rubbing her paws in anticipation.

The table vibrated at Catherine’s subvocal growl. “It’s a good start, but the one thing these types only really understand is money.” The table watched as she bore her metaphorical and literal claws. “The annual Alumni Ball is later next month. It would be a shame if several high-profile Alumni and donors boycotted the event over this.”

Dolores’ eyes went wide as her tail lashed. “Girls, girls, it’s okay!” She held up a paw towards Judy. “No, really; I said it was upsetting, not that I wouldn’t go through with it. Let’s,” she swept her eyes over the table, “let’s keep the Nuclear option for if they try to play nasty. For now, the Shelter’s lawyers say this is all ‘par for the course’. They’ve handled cases like this before, so they know what to do.” 

Judy huffed and crossed her arms in a pout. “I mean, I guess that could work too. I just… hate sitting on my paws and doing nothing.”

“Just listening is more than enough.” Dolores attempted a small smile. “I mean it… I’ve been twisted up about this and even if it’s not over yet it feels… better. It’s nice, knowing I have you all in my corner.”

“You do,” Pearl reached a trotter across the table, “even if we aren’t twisting the law into a Cloverleaf Overpass while we’re at it.” She shot Cat and Judy a meaningful look.

Judy looked slightly abashed, though Cat only looked mildly put out. “Alright, I’ll limit myself to good old fashioned rumor mongering.”

Dolores nodded with a watery hiccup, a real smile creeping up her cheeks at the friendship and support. Dessert passed in companionable silence.

“ Anything else I can get for you folks this evening? ”

They all snapped their heads up at the question that came from a much different voice than they had expected to hear. A Nine-Banded Armadillo stood beside the table instead and flashed a pretty smile at them.

Pearl’s expression dropped. “What happened to Tailor?”

“He was on the Opening Crew today, so his shift ended about ten minutes ago.” She set the embossed check presenter on the table and looked around at the ladies. “If there’s nothing else any of you want from the bar or kitchen, I can take the check whenever you folks are ready. And… who’s ‘Pearl’?”

Pearl quirked an eyebrow and waved a trotter. The server placed a separate check presenter into her digits, as Cat snatched up the bill on the table. The others started to cry foul as she ignored them, slipping a card into the fold and handing it immediately back to the waitress.

She noticed that Pearl was nearly motionless while looking at whatever was inside her own folder. “That’s a face. Come on now, don’t leave us in suspense! What is it? Is it something good, at least? A gift card? A comp?”

“It’s a note,” she murmured, and lifted it out from between the presenter folder delicately. “ Maybe you’ll grace me with a conversation I don’t have to eavesdrop on. Your serve, if you like. Tailor. And a phone number. ”

There was an assortment of excited noises, from Judy’s squeak to Cat’s purling “oohhhhh.” She followed it up with, “See? What did I tell you?”

Pearl pursed her lips in a pout. “Alright, fine. I admit you called it.” She looked down at the note, with a smile creeping up her face, interrupted by a look of mild alam.. “Are there rules about something like this? When am I supposed to call? I mean, if I call, of course…”

“Oh, no games! That’s not your style, after all.” Cat waved Pearl away as her credit card and receipt came back around for her signature. “You go and put that number in your phone right now. We’ll follow you out soon as we get everything together here.”

Pearl smiled and stood to leave.

Valerie nodded at her. “Next time we have one of these Grrl’s nights out, you’d better have some juicy stories to share!”

“Ooohh, no no no,” she waved a trotter at her friends, “You three owe the rest of us. You want another story out of me, you’ll have to pony up one of your own first!”

The ladies laughed heartily and threw the restaurant doors open to nighttime in Zootopia. They’d part ways back to their respective lives for now, a shared promise held close between them that another evening such as this could be looked forward to again, soon.

Notes:

I would be grossly ungrateful if I didn't thank my Discord Beta Readers as well: Ubermunchkin, LordKrauss, and Kora Cottontail.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 4 of The Sons of Efrafa