Kev and Fang sat and enjoyed their drinks, Fang finishing off the scallops as they listened to the music. Kev could see Gerald's head bobbing serenely above the rest of the crowd as he plucked the deep, resonant notes from his stand-up bass.
Leaning into Fang, Kev said, "You've told Rex and Horns about me not being from, uh, around here. Do you think it's okay if I tell anyone else? I wasn't sure if that would be okay or not."
Fang swirled the ice in his drink, his gaze thoughtful. "There are those who need to know and those who don't," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Who do you think needs to know?"
Kev looked up, his expression earnest. "I just don't want to hurt anyone. Horns was… upset that I didn't let him know."
Fang nodded and took a sip of his drink. "I will not be angry if you let someone know," he said, "but please be careful, my love."
Kev's heart gave a little flutter at the endearment. "I want to tell Talon and his sister soon," he said. "Hanging out with them every day... I'm sure they already suspect something is strange about me."
Fang laughed softly. "Not strange," he corrected, his amber eyes warm. "Unconventional."
Kev smiled and relaxed, enjoying the music and watching the dancers until Rebecca returned. She approached with a swift, almost soundless efficiency, her arms laden with their main courses. She quickly placed the food on the table, Fang's steak and eggs and Kev's soup. Then, in a movement that surprised Kev, she snatched up their half-empty drinks and, in the same motion, put fresh, full ones in their place. She stood at rigid attention at the side of the table, her posture stiff.
"Mr. Fang sir," she said, her voice tight, "please enjoy your meal, sir."
Fang grunted, "Thanks," and immediately began to dig in.
As Kev began to eat his soup, he couldn't help but notice Rebecca was still standing at the side of the table, staring at Fang, who was ripping into his steak with his usual gusto. Kev put his spoon down and said, "Is there something wrong, Rebecca?"
Without looking at Kev, Rebecca said, "Mr. Fang sir, is your meal cooked correctly? If anything is wrong, I can bring it back right away. Please, Mr. Fang sir, don't hesitate to let me know." She was breathing slightly heavy.
Fang didn't look up from his food and grunted, with a mouthful, "It's good."
Rebecca nearly shouted, "Thank you, Mr. Fang sir!" before scurrying off to the kitchen.
Kev watched her go. What was wrong with her? She seemed so nervous, so different from the relaxed feline who laughed with Cindy the night before. The smell of Reepia's soup, however, distracted him from his thoughts, and he ate his meal along with Fang.
After eating, Kev lit a cigarette and sipped his Cape Cod. Fang was leaned back in the booth with his arms stretched over the back in a relaxed position. "Are you sure you want to join me while I question Abe?" Fang asked.
Kev nodded and said, "We can go whenever you want. I'm ready."
Looking around, Fang growled, "Rex should have been back already."
"It's his day off," Kev reminded Fang. "Maybe he finally found someone other than me to bother."
Fang sighed and took a sip of his drink. "I don't think there is a single customer who doesn't know Rex. Unless Lanon has signed off on a new invite list, he's probably not going to be interested in anyone else." Fang looked down at Kev and asked, "Is he bothering you too much?"
Kev looked away and said, "He's a total asshole, but I can deal with it." Kev looked back up at Fang. "How could I be your assistant if I can't even handle your employees?"
Fang laughed and said, "A great point."
Kev said, "Maybe we should go now. Maybe something happened with Rex and Abe."
"Ha, that scrawny raccoon would be no trouble for Rex, dancing pills or not," Fang said.
Kev ashed his cigarette and said, "Would Rex be breaking the 'no fighting' rule if he got into a scrap with Abe? After all, Rex is just a happy customer tonight."
Frowning, Fang said, "I haven't thought of that before. But, Rex is the head of security, even if it's his day off." Fang finished his drink and stood. "That's the best thing about being the boss. I make the rules."
Kev stood and took Fang's offered arm, allowing the wolfman to lead him out of the VIP area. Talon fell into step behind them after giving a wordless nod to the panther woman who remained. They moved through the busy barroom and into the west wing, the atmosphere shifting subtly with each step.
The wide, torchlit corridors were no longer the quiet, empty spaces Kev had seen during the day. Well-dressed beastmen and women mingled in small, intimate groups, their low, conspiratorial conversations and soft laughter echoing off the stone walls. Some lounged in plush armchairs tucked into alcoves, admiring the strange, evocative artwork that adorned the walls, while others strolled leisurely, drinks in hand.
As they passed the theater, Kev could hear the sultry notes of a jazz saxophone spilling from the open doors. On the small stage, a peacock woman, her tail a shimmering fan of iridescent feathers, was performing a slow, sensual burlesque routine for a small, rapt audience. Further down, the familiar sounds of the fighting pit were more pronounced—yells of triumph and groans of dismay, the roar of the crowd a primal undercurrent to the club's more sophisticated pleasures. Kev could only see the patrons' backs as they leaned over the iron railing, their bodies tense with excitement, watching the unseen brawlers duke it out in the sand below.
The deeper they ventured into the west wing, the more the atmosphere changed. The inhibitions that were merely loosened in the main bar were completely shed here. Kev saw more and more scantily clad customers and workers. He tried not to stare, but the sights were impossible to ignore. A sleek seal woman, wearing nothing but an artfully draped feather boa, barked a happy laugh from a chaise lounge. A lynx man with a leather captain's hat and tight leather shorts leaned against a doorway, his tufted ears twitching as he watched the passersby with a predatory gaze. Coiled languidly in an open doorway, an anaconda woman, impossibly long, wore some odd, furry-looking lingerie, its texture a bizarre contrast to her smooth, patterned scales.
Kev glanced up at Fang, but the wolfman seemed completely oblivious to the strange and sensual sights unfolding around them. His stride was unwavering, his expression impassive, his focus solely on their destination. Kev, on the other hand, felt a nervous blush creep up his neck. He couldn't remember if he'd been this deep into the west wing at night before, but the raw, hedonistic energy was both intimidating and strangely intoxicating.
He was surprised when they walked all the way to the end of the wing, the sounds of revelry fading behind them, replaced by a quiet, almost clinical hush. The heavy, unmarked door of Vlad's medical room stood before them.
A small, professionally printed sign on the front of the door said, "OPERATION IN PROGRESS. DO NOT DISTURB."
Fang gave the door a single, loud, perfunctory knock. After a few moments, the door opened slightly, just a crack. A voice, small and timid, squeaked from the other side. "Apologies, but the doctor is occupied. Please find Mr. Lanon if you want to make an appointment."
Fang pushed the door open the rest of the way, revealing a small white mouse woman in a crisp nurse's uniform. Her eyes widened in terror. "Mr. Fang!" she squeaked.
Fang stepped into the med bay, the bright, sterile limelight of the room spilling out into the dimly lit hallway. When Kev entered behind him, he was shocked. The sight before him was nothing he could have ever imagined.
Vlad stood there, in full surgical garb—a blue gown, a mask hanging around his neck, and long, sterile gloves on his hands. But it wasn't Vlad that made Kev's brain short-circuit. It was the patient. A large sheep person was lying face down on a surgical table in the middle of the room. A simple gown covered their back and legs but left their entire rear end exposed. The wool had been meticulously shaved, revealing pale, pinkish skin.
Kev choked back a sudden, hysterical laugh and coughed hard into his arm, quickly looking away at a blank white wall, his ears burning with a mixture of horror and pure, unadulterated absurdity.
The nurse quickly shut the door behind them and scurried back to the patient. She looked up at Vlad and said, "Doctor, should I administer more anesthetic?"
Vlad looked over at Fang and said, "Mr. Fang, I'm quite busy at the moment. What do you need?"
Fang, eyeing the unusually exposed sheep, said, "What exactly are you doing?"
Vlad looked between the exposed rear end and Fang before saying, "The patient has requested to be more visually desirable. In the species of Fat Tailed sheep, their posterior is directly related to mating success, so we have devised a procedure to remove fat from different areas of the body and deposit them around the gluteus muscles."
Kev had another small coughing fit.
Fang said, "I just need to have a talk with our guest, Abe. Where is he?"
"Oh, that raccoon who kept me company today," Vlad turned back to the exposed sheep and reached for a large syringe filled with a sickly tan-colored substance. "He is in the recovery room. You know he had a stage-two concussion. Please be gentle with him."
Fang turned and growled, "I'm always gentle."
Kev nodded at Vlad and said, "Thanks, Vlad." He felt a strange sense of relief that the body in the corner during his shave belonged to Abe. Even though the raccoon was probably being held against his will, it was a better thought than a dead body.
Vlad just nodded and raised the syringe high in the air, aiming it at the sheep's rear end. Kev quickly turned and left, not wanting to watch. Talon quickly followed and closed the door just as Vlad began to plunge down.
Kev followed Fang as he entered a nearby room, tossing open the door with unnecessary force. The wood slammed against the interior wall with a crack. "Abe, you've got some explaining to do," Fang roared.
The room was small and, strangely, intensely familiar. Kev looked around, his heart giving a lurch of disorientation. The single window with its heavy drapes, the cramped feeling of the space, the lingering scent of aged wood and stale tobacco… this was the room he'd woken up in, what felt like a lifetime ago.
Abe, who was now scrambling awake and recoiling against the wall, yelled, "Wait, Mr. Fang! Don't hit me again!"
Fang growled and took a menacing step forward. "I'm going to tear you apart. How dare you come in here and touch my staff."
"Please, Mr. Fang, I want to talk!" Abe screeched. He looked terrified, a clean white bandage wrapped professionally around his head, cowering on the thin mattress.
Fang took another few steps in, nearly within arm's reach of the shaking enforcer. "You dare challenge me in my territory?" he howled, his voice echoing in the small space.
Kev leaped forward and grabbed Fang's arm. "Fang! If anyone should be angry, it's me! Let's hear him out."
Fang took a deep, shuddering breath, his body still thrumming with rage. He visibly forced himself to calm down, the tense muscles in his shoulders relaxing slightly, and stepped back.
Abe, still huddled on the bed, nervously looked at Kev, his words tumbling out in a rush. "You," he said quickly, "I didn't know who you were, I'm sorry! I tried to stop Bryan, but…"
"Silence," Fang barked, cutting him off. The wolfman's gaze was cold, his earlier fury now replaced by a chilling contempt. "What sort of fool are you to return to this place after what you did?"
"I didn't know Bryan would do that, I'm sorry, I came here to—" Abe tried to spit out before Fang once again cut him off.
"Sorry?" Fang growled, "That's not good enough."
Abe tensed up, closed his eyes, and said, "I came here to make a deal."
"A deal?" Fang yelled, before tensing and controlling his voice. "A deal is something you can ask for if you have leverage. You are in no position to make any deal." Abe whimpered.
"Let's hear him out," Kev said, trying to move the conversation beyond just threats. "Abe, I think you're telling the truth. I don't believe you wanted to arrest me. That was all Bryan."
Abe looked at Kev and shook his head vigorously in agreement. "I had no idea! He just told me he got on the list and wanted to have someone to go with! Once I saw him grab you, I—"
Fang howled, "You couldn't stop a little rabbit from sinking your ship? I don't believe it."
Kev squeezed Fang's arm, trying to calm the raging wolf. Fang was really worked up. Kev thought he might have only seen Fang this angry on the night he was actually almost arrested; it was like Fang's rage was reignited just being in the same room as Abe.
Abe put his hands up and said, "I can't just attack another enforcer! I tried to tell him to stop."
Kev glanced back at Talon, remembering the fight in the park earlier that day. "He's right," he said, turning back to Fang. "You can't go around attacking coworkers, even if you disagree with what they're doing. You've got to talk to them, Fang."
Fang growled but didn't say anything.
"So, what sort of deal did you want to make with us?" Kev asked, his voice calm. "I'm pretty sure you weren't forced to come here, so we should at least listen."
"I... I have some information," Abe stuttered, glancing nervously between the human and the wolf, "about you, Mr. Assistant."
Kev nodded. "Yes, I think that's what Rex said. But what did you want in return for the information? I know giving away something like that isn't easy to do."
"Please, Mr. Fang, put me back on the invite list," Abe looked up at Fang with big, pleading eyes. "I can't drink or have fun anywhere else in the city with all the cameras and surveillance."
Kev cocked a grin. "Is that really all you want in exchange for the information?"
Abe looked at Kev and said, "You don't get it. The shit I see every day, getting yelled at by everyone... Even when someone does actually want an enforcer to show up, it's to deal with another person." Abe looked down at the bed and said, "And if an enforcer is caught on camera having too much fun, their days are numbered. This is the only place I can relax."