Writing Project #7: The Things We Do
An old work, revised slightly to try to help some flow . . .

It came as I was trying to figure out a character in another roleplaying chat scene I was involved in, and after I wrote this he just didn't feel quite right for the scene. Which is okay, I just wish he would have made me happier by staying in the role which had been put upon him.



Franklin sighed and looked across the table at the mouse sitting there. She was very cute, certainly; Harry and his wife Elena had chosen her from their pool of single friends to inflict upon the fox for a date. In fact, Harry had come to the same restaurant with Elena just to witness the date. The feline couple was sitting several dozen feet away, their attention split between each other and the table.

The problem is, Franklin thought while sipping his wine, Greta was simply all wrong for him. The first question she had asked had not been "what job do you do for a living" but "how much do you make?" The mouse had balked a bit at his even stare. "See, mother always said not to fall for someone working for minimum wage, even if he was cute."

"I can assure you, it's not minimum wage." He had answered before returning his gaze to the menu. He had glossed over the meal and went straight for the wine list.

"Oh, good. So what, five figures? Six?" Greta had pressed him until he named a number off the top of his head. It seemed to be enough, because the mouse had gone quiet to sip from her water.

"So what is it you do?"

The mouse shrugged, and tuned the page of the menu. "Oh, working is for the men. It's their place to support their woman." She giggled. "Mmm, that salad looks good."

Franklin now was working his way through his steak while trying to fend off Greta's questions. It worked easily enough if he made sure he was chewing as she opened her mouth to ask. The first few times she had asked something, he had dutifully reminded her it was wrong to let the food get cold.

"Oh stop, you just like to eat too fast. It's a sure sign you hate your job." She had nodded sagely, and sipped from her soda.

I don't hate my job, I just hate this date, Franklin thought to himself as he looked down at the last half of the plate. "So, Miss Harlan . . . can I call you Greta?"

"Oh sure!" She beamed across the table at him.

The fox nodded slowly. "Miss Harlan." He began again, preparing himself to be firm with her. The cellphone in his pocket buzzed softly, stopping his words and he recaptured them with a small smile. "It's a nice ring to it."

"Not as nice as your last name!"

"Naturally. Can you wait a minute, my boss is calling." He fished out the phone and got up, headed to the hall by the restrooms. His stomach sank as he noticed Harry headed over too. He clicked open the phone. "Yes, sir?"

"I have a problem I need solved, Franklin." The voice on the other end purred smoothly. "Are you busy?"

Franklin paused. "I was on a date. It just ended." He looked up to see Harry entering the hall. "What is it, sir?" A few moments later, he closed the phone and looked up to see the feline staring at him. "What is it?"

"You're not supposed to bring a cellphone on a date!" The feline sounded scandalized. "You know that!"

"And you know my job." The fox shot back, unruffled. "I'm on call, nearly any hour of the day. I've had this conversation with you before." He tucked the phone away.

"Well, nevermind that. So?"

"A needle pulling thread?"

"No!" His friend dismissed the reply with a hand. "What do you think?"

"I think it was a good movie. Needed less singing."

"About the girl."

"Julie Andrews? Well, she's rather attractive but I don't like blonds."

"The girl on the date with you tonight!" Harry snapped out, his patience visibly wearing thin.

"Oh. Well she's a nice girl. But she's not my type." Franklin shrugged. "I have to go, boss needs me to finish some paperwork for the Cosmetics Department Funding Review. Something about striped fur." He started to move past the cat, and felt Harry grab him gently.

"Look, you're never going to find a girl with that sort of attitude." Harry said softly. "Can't you just leave work at work for once?"

"Greta Harlan is a sweet girl, who is looking to be pampered for the rest of her life like a princess." The fox said slowly. "She thinks she knows everything about the world, but all she knows pales in comparison. It's comparing a koi pond to the ocean. There is no comparison." He jerked his arm free. "Now, I have to go pretend to be amused rather than annoyed at her long enough to settle the bill . . . yes, I will pay for it, I'm still a gentleman . . . and then I have to go. That's life."

The feline's ears had flattened during the long speech, and he sighed. "Well . . . we'll try again next time." He offered, and then left.

It was a good thing Greta didn't cry when Franklin told her he had to go . . . he might have seriously had troube keeping his poise.

###

The club was as wild as always, Franklin noticed as he walked across the stree. Reveling people had spilled out into the street in front, quietly dancing to the too-loud music on someone's car stereo. He passed a wolf in a fishnet shirt and plastic pants who gave him a long look. Franklin didn't look back. He knew he was overdressed for the venue, with a short-sleeve button-up shirt and jeans. Luckily both were black, so he could get away with it.

Inside he found two of the girls eyeing him and whispering. The coyote seemed only vaguely interested but the white feline had almost a possessive look in her eyes. Franklin didn't feel like dealing with it, and wandered towards the bar. The wolfhound tending bar wore nothing but his pants and a couple rattling bangles, throwing Frankling an ironic salute.

"Whatcha having?" He called over the music.

Franklin laughed and called back. "Dortmunder Gold." He looked around, and spotted a slim panther near the far end. "And one for him." The bartender winked and bent to retrieve the bottles from an ice chest under the bar. The fox had threaded his way back to the cat and waited.

When the panther noticed he had company, he turned and looked at Franklin. "What's up?" He asked, voice a little tense.

"I heard you got some good stuff."

"Who said?" The panther's eyes were wary.

"Word on the street." When this didn't get a change in expression Franklin dialed through his memory. "Francis. You know, tall snaky rat bastard?"

The feline snorted and grabbed the beer from the counter. "Oh yeah? I heard he sells complete shit."

"Exactly. Yours any better?"

"You know it." A pause. "Ain't no free samples. You have cash?" Franklin flashed a fold of bills from his palm and slipped it to the taller feline. "Well let us step outside."

"Naw, I got a room here." He held up his hand and the bartender flipped a keychain through the air into the fox's palm.

"Right. Shadow's got all you could want. Not cheap, but damn if it does't have a kick like an elephant." The panther grunted and followed Franklin to the back hall.

The club had all sorts of dealers like Shadow or Francis drop by, and it so happened very few who came here stayed 'clean' for long. The owner looked the other way, so long as dealers didn't start turf wars over clients. And why should they? There were more than enough potential clients here in one night, and when you took the long game in mind . . . there wasn't any real need to cause a ruckus. Most dealers who didn't take the long game in mind these days didn't last, anyway.

But the combination of drugs, dancing, and alcohol often caused people to need somewhere to rest. Or maybe they just wanted to shack up with someone for a one-night-stand. Or for whatever reason, they just wanted someplace quiet. That's why the owner built the soundproof rooms in the back, allowing people to rent them for a night for a fee.

Franklin was such a regular, he just needed to ask. Room number seven was his, mostly reserved for his use. The club's manager kept it well stocked, clean, and gently steered other folks away from it all night. It had paid off more than once, to have a nice place to rest or crash . . . which wasn't home.

"So what are you after?" Shadow asked as Franklin unlocked the door to the room. "I gotta tell you, man, tonight's been busy. Most of my top shelf and bottom shelf are already gone." He looked around the sparse room and grunted. "Cleaner than the others."

"Come here often?"

"You do too. Seen you with that shy girl bartender. Amber, right?"

Franklin sat on the bed. "She's new. And I'm looking for Green Blue." He knew it by reputation, but hadn't actually looked into it.

"Ah, right. New, hard to get stuff which is safe for you, and a bitch if it turns out to be a bad batch." The panther dug into a pocket and removed a baggie with a half-dozen pills in it. "Three. Each."

"Sounds a little low." Franklin dug into his pocket and began counting.

"Thousand, lil fox, not hundred."

"Ahh, now that sounds more like it." Franklin held out his hand and dropped the pill into his mouth. He pinned it against the inside of his cheek with his tongue and pretended to swallow. The panther took one as well, and pocketed the cash. "I don't feel anything."

"Give it some time. Five minutes you won't even know which way is up. So, what's the deal? You come here hunting for someone?"

"Sometimes. Other times, it's business." He noticed the panther's eyes glazing slightly. It did work rather fast. "I heard you knew a girl called Rachel Blake."

Shadow grunted and straddled a chair. "Whore walked out leaving me three thousand short last night. What, Francis know about that?" He was closing his eyes, paw tapping to some internal beat.

"No, no. Francis doesn't know shit." Franklin rose and wobbled to the miniature fridge. The cat didn't even notice him, tail swaying. "What happened?"

"Oh, she had a shot of Viper, didn't agree with her." He laughed. "She had to run off. Said she'd tell her daddy. Like I give a fuck."

"What if she did?"

"They'd never find me." Shadow boasted, thumb tapping himself in the chest. "They call me Shadow because they don't ever find me. Just where I was." He grinned stupidly, and stretched. "So you here on business or pleasure tonight, lil fox?"

"Oh a little of both." Franklin headed over with his beer and swallowed a good long drink as Shadow straightened up a bit. "The drug, that's a bit of work. Never tried it, have friends who swore by it." He grinned. "It's good."

"Of course it is!" The feline stretched his legs. "So what am I? Business or pleasure?"

Franklin walked behind him, and leaned to to speak very quietly. "In your case . . . it's my pleasure to do business." There was a sharp crash as the bottle was broken over the foot of the bedframe, and the fox swung it around, jagged edge catching Shadow's throat.

The panther gagged, and flopped out of the chair, his hand going from his pants to his throat, eyes disbelieving. The fox took the chair and sat in it now, feeling the void where the pill had been. Damnit, he had wanted to spit it out.

"Shadow. You should know Rachel Blake. Turns out she did tell her daddy about last night. He isn't very happy with her . . . oh, but that's nothing compared to you. You should have heard what he wanted done to you."

Franklin savored the expression on the panther's face, even knowing it was likely none of this was getting recogized. "Now, I'm a professional, so I have some pride in my work. And Mister Blake? He's rather well connected. Good for him. Bad for you."

The fox felt a tremble running through him as the drug was kicking in. How had they gotten this to work so fast? "Bad for me too. If you hadn't been such a dumb bastard, we just might have hooked up tonight." He rose and kicked the chair at him. "Now? You're just meat. So long."

Franklin knew it would take about four minutes from him being seen leaving before Lily would clean out the room. There wouldn't be very many questions about what happened, Franklin paid too much to suffer them. Ten minutes, they'd have the room pretty much spotless and a rug down over the stain. Or they'd give him a different room for tonight.

The fox dropped the key on the bar and groaned a bit thinking of the mess. Damnit. He noticed the wolf from outside looking him over, and gave a wink. Maybe tonight wouldn't end too badly after all.

###

"Shit, I should have known better." Franklin said vehemently as he pulled on his pants. Standing near the door was a short, plump little vixen who was staring at him fearfully. "Drugged out of my goddamn mind, I didn't think twice."

"Franklin . . . er, sir . . ."

"Amber, call me Franklin." He said seriously, checking his pants. His wallet was empty except for the cards. The cellphone wasn't tampered with either. Well the wolf had been smarter than most. "After you kept my face out of the toilet while I was ill, I think we're on a first name basis."

"That was last week."

"Oh. Right. Mind's a little fuzzy." The fox rubbed his face and shivered. Coming down off the drug was a pain in the ass, he thought to himself.

"I've hard that before." Amber said, handing him water. "Get some water in you, Franklin, it'll help."

"Help?"

"With the pain in the ass the drug's being." She said simply. "Cristine was on something the other day, told us how to help her crash safely. I hope it'll work for you."

"It's better than nothing. But right now? Orange juice. With ice, keep it cold." He drained the glass and set it down. "What time is it?"

"Seven-fifteen."

"Gotta call work." He looked up and motioned. "Just get me the drink, okay?" After Amber was out the door, he was on the phone. He waited until a voice on the other end spoke up. "Yes, it's me. It's done. I left a little mess but it's taken care of now. If anyone asks, I'm sick in bed with the flu. You can tell Mister Blake it's settled."

He hung up and stretched out on the bed, arm over his face. Some days, he hated his job. Some days, it felt perfectly fine . . . he wasn't sure which day today was yet.