Kev woke with a jolt, his heart pounding, the remnants of vivid, unsettling nightmares clinging to him like cobwebs. Lanon's words, sharp and accusatory, echoed in the quiet of his room. What could possibly be wrong with Fang? He rolled out of bed and checked his watch. Only six. He hadn't slept much at all.
He stumbled into the living room, his thoughts a chaotic swirl. He put a kettle on the stove for coffee and lit a cigarette, the familiar ritual a flimsy shield against his unease. After cranking up the player piano, its jaunty tune a jarring contrast to his mood, he took a quick shower. Before he knew it, he was sitting on his couch in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, waiting for Horns, the rising sun casting long, pale fingers of light through the windows.
His thoughts wandered. Had Fang given him any indication, any hint of what might be wrong? Kev had barely asked him any questions. Everything was so new, so overwhelming, and doubly so when he was with Fang. Even during the quiet nights in the VIP booth, he'd been too mesmerized by the sights, the sounds, the sheer experience of it all, to have the presence of mind to sit back and truly question the wolfman.
Kev sighed and leaned back, the coffee cup warm in his hands. Fang had done so much for him, had wrapped him in a cocoon of safety and affection. And what had he done to reciprocate? Everyone told him he was doing a good job, that he was good for Fang, but it wasn't true. He didn't know the first thing about what the workers did, what the business needed. He wasn't even sure how the laundry worked here, other than that he put the clothes in a hole and Max dropped them off, clean and folded, in the morning. He was a lucky charm, a pet, not an assistant. The realization settled in his gut like a cold stone, if Fang's issue related to Kev's humanness... he'd be out on the street.
A knock at the door pulled him from his worried thoughts.
"Morning Horns," Kev's greeting died on his lips. There was Horns, standing a bit hunched over with a very tired and disheveled Rex holding onto him for support. The tiger's leather vest was askew, his magnificent fur ruffled and dull, and his usual predatory energy had been replaced by a heavy, exhausted weight.
"Sorry Rex, but you're not allowed to crash on my couch," Kev said, stepping back to let them in, the words an automatic defense.
"Fuck you," Rex groaned, the curse lacking any of its usual venom. He gingerly let go of Horns and stumbled into the apartment, collapsing into the armchair with a pained grunt, his eyes immediately squeezing shut.
"Oh, don't worry about that," Horns boomed, a coy grin still tugging at the corners of his lips. The mooseman looked surprisingly well-rested. "He was dancing until last call. I'm just helping him get to his car after this."
"Oh Rex, it's really inspiring to know you're such a dance enthusiast," Kev said, turning to the kitchen to pour a glass of water for Horns. As the cool water filled the glass, the memory of Rex's desperate and despairing eyes from the night before flashed through his mind, a fleeting image of a creature utterly lost in a drugged haze. Kev sighed, a pang of pity cutting through his annoyance, and poured a second glass.
Horns was already lighting a joint on the couch when Kev passed them the waters. Rex took his glass with a fumbling hand, not opening his eyes.
"So," Horns said, taking a long, thoughtful drag. "Uh..." He looked at Kev, a questioning, almost hesitant look in his large, gentle eyes.
Kev waited for a few moments, the silence stretching, before prompting, "What's up, Horns?"
"Uh, the boss was acting kinda weird last night," Horns finally asked, his voice losing its booming quality, becoming more subdued. "Did… did something happen?"
Kev sighed, the anxiety from his sleepless night returning in a rush. He took a sip of his own coffee, the bitter warmth a small comfort. "Other than Lanon being weird," he said, the deflection feeling flimsy even to his own ears, "no. Nothing really out of the ordinary."
"He didn't claim you again," Rex murmured from the armchair, his voice a gravelly whisper. "What a pussy."
Kev sighed. He pulled the glass of water from Rex's limp hand and, without a word, poured it directly onto the tiger's head.
Rex sputtered, a strangled gasp escaping his lips. Rage flared in his golden eyes, a ghost of his usual ferocity. But as he tried to swat at Kev, his exhausted body betrayed him. He overbalanced, tumbling sideways out of the armchair and crumpling onto the ground in a heap of damp, indignant fur.
Horns, who had looked terrified that Rex might tear the fragile human apart, froze for a split second. Then he immediately burst into laughter, a deep, booming sound that shook the apartment.
"What the fuck," Rex groaned from the floor. "I'm gonna..."
"You're going to what, Rex?" Kev said, looking down at the wet and pathetic tiger. "Going to make me another cup of coffee?"
Rex squeezed his eyes shut. "I'm gonna do what Fang should have done a long time ago."
Kev sighed and brought the empty cup back to the kitchen, setting it on the counter. "I guess you're right, Horns," he said, his voice laced with weary resignation. "He really is always like this."
Horns, finally reeling in his laughter, said, "Hey, he's consistent at least."
"Can one of you assholes help me up?" Rex said quietly from the floor. "I can't move."
Horns slapped his legs and stood, walking over and pulling Rex up with a single hand in a quick, fluid motion. Rex stumbled and had to grab onto Horns to keep upright.
"I guess we'll have to talk more later," Horns said, handing Kev his own empty glass. "Got to get the kitty cat home before he totally shuts down. He underestimated the power of dance."
Kev chuckled as he watched them go. "See you later, Horns. I hope you don't have to carry him down the stairs."
Rex raised a middle finger over Horns's shoulder.
Kev shut the door, a bit nervous that he might have upset Rex, but the thought was quickly overshadowed. That tiger deserved it. A slow grin spread across Kev's face. He might need to get himself a water gun or something to keep him away.
After doing his best to dry up the spilled water with a towel, Kev tidied the rest of the room, knowing that the next knock, which rang out just as he was wiping off his counter, belonged to Cindy.
Kev greeted her and pulled the door open, knowing, per usual, she would be commanding the kitchen. He walked over to the player piano and pulled out a scroll at random. "We'll be enjoying 'The Striped Tail Twist'," he announced to Cindy's retreating back. A playful, almost mischievous tune began to fill the apartment.
After just a few minutes (Kev was amazed how Cindy seemed to be able to boil water faster than him, as if she'd charmed the kettle itself) she returned to the little living room area, a small platter of cups and biscuits in hand.
"It is good to see you've not run away and joined the opera troupe," Kev said, pouring a bit of cream into his coffee.
"Oh, a fun thought, but my place is here," Cindy said, delicately sipping her tea. A faint, genuine blush touched her cheeks. "I did have Rebecca teach me how to play the soundtrack on my phone though. It has been great during my walk to work."
"I didn't realize you lived so close," Kev said. "And I'm glad you mentioned Rebecca. My apologies if I shouldn't have sent her your way last night. I didn't know who else would be able to help."
Cindy placed her cup down and gave Kev a soft smile, grabbing a biscuit. "I don't think there is anyone else you could have sent her to. I'm happy to help little Rebecca, she is a sweet thing."
"That's good," Kev said, relief in his voice. "She is a great waitress, and it was sad to see her so stressed out over such a silly thing."
Cindy nodded before picking up her teacup again. As she brought the cup to her lips, she said, her voice casual but pointed, "It seems like Fang is stressed, as you say, as well."
Kev's smile faltered. The warmth in the room seemed to cool by several degrees. He felt his own body tense, the easy camaraderie of the morning replaced by the familiar knot of worry.
"Well, there's the big VIP dinner tomorrow night," Kev offered.
"Oh, I'm not sure if that's the reason," Cindy said, her voice still soft.
"Could it be he's worried about the enforcers again?" Kev questioned. "Did you know about Abe? He's still here. Isn't that like kidnapping or something?"
"Kidnapping? Abe is a grown man," Cindy said simply.
"Uh, I don't think that's..." Kev shook his head. Cindy's cold side always sent an unexpected shiver down his spine. "Perhaps he is stressed out over the park restaurant deal. I haven't heard much about it recently, but I'm sure Bozeman must be working with Ralph's lawyers to get things moving."
"Stop being silly, boy." Cindy looked directly into Kev's eyes, her own gaze gentle but unyielding. "He is stressed over you."
"Cindy," Kev began, his voice shaky, "I don't know what I can do to make him less worried about me." He stood and paced around the small apartment, the nervous energy too much to contain. "I told him I loved him last night. I know you think Fang only uses that word sparingly, but... I do too."
Kev turned back to face the deer woman. She stayed quiet, a soft, encouraging smile on her face as if urging him to continue, to tell her his woes.
"I don't want anyone else. I don't even need Fang to..." Kev blushed, the words catching in his throat before he tried to transition his train of thought. "I don't need him to do anything more than he has done. But I would like him to."
Cindy only nodded. "Like him to what, dear?"
Kev sighed and walked back to the armchair, slumping into it. "That's the thing," he said, his voice dropping. "How could I ever say out loud that I want him to relax? I want him to stop working so hard."
Cindy frowned, a subtle, almost imperceptible shift in her serene expression, and Kev stiffened. Did he say the wrong thing?
"You're right, you shouldn't say those sorts of things," Cindy said, her voice gentle but firm. "But that's only because I don't think that's what you want."
Kev raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"Do you care if he is working," Cindy questioned, her gaze sharp and direct, "or do you care if he is with you?"
Kev didn't have an answer, only able to respond, "Fang doesn't want me becoming nocturnal."
Cindy smiled and stood, her movements graceful. "I've got to get back to the rounds before I head home." She paused at the door, turning back to him, her eyes holding a gentle, knowing light. "Just remember, dear," she said, her voice a soft, final note, "Fang also didn't want a personal assistant."
With a smile, she turned and departed, leaving Kev alone in the suddenly quiet apartment. He grabbed the last biscuit from the platter and bit into it, the sweet, crumbly texture a stark contrast to the complex flavor of Cindy's words.