Chapter 1
Pasts Do More Than Haunt
"Hey, girly!"
I'll ignore my tabby-cat coworker for the thousandth time. I've tried everything to make my face look less like a girl's, but nothing's ever worked. And I'm NOT going to get plastic surgery. That shit makes you look like a retarded-
"Hey girly, I'm talking to you! You think just cause you're a panther you're better than the rest of us?" Did he just put his hand on my shoulder? I hate when people do that. My hands ball up on reflex, I tense up, and I'm about to slug him when my higher functions kick in and stop me. I remember the manager's told me I can't send any more guys to the hospital, even when he agrees that they're assholes.
"What do you want this time Harold? I'm busy." I flick his hand off my shoulder, barely hiding my disgust for him. In fact, I was busy. I'd just put my coat on and was almost out the door of the supermarket we worked at. I really hoped there was a security camera on us right now, so I wouldn't be lying later when I told my boss that he provoked me.
"You got a call waiting in the break room. Probably your boyfriend wondering where his easy lay is." I watched Harold swagger off laughing, desperately trying not to run over and beat him into a gooey paste.
Taking a few breaths to calm myself, I walk back to the door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY, using the key us workers get to unlock it. Stepping into the break room, I resolve myself to a long hunt for the phone that I just know he's hidden somewhere. To my surprise, it's sitting square in the middle of the table. Huh. Maybe he doesn't want to dick around with me anymore. I put the phone to my ear, politely asking "Hello?"
"Hello, Mr. Johnson." A voice as smooth as silk carries through the phone. "I represent your parent's will. We need you to come to our office. Do you remember where it is?"
Damn it. I thought all that legal shit was over. When I hit 18 I got my trust fund sorted out, got their worldly possessions, and got to actually read their will. Now that stupid firm calls me 2 years later, thinking I'd want to be reminded that my parents were dead?
"Yes sir, I remember exactly where your offices are." 2 blocks away. I can get there in about 10 minutes if I sprint.
"Good. Please be here as soon as it's convenient. Thank you for your time." The dial tone was a welcome sound, because it meant I could slam down the receiver without destroying his ear.
I ran like a bat out of hell. I'd only ever run this fast once, and that was because my best friend had gotten into a fight. He was trying to defend the turtle he hung out with, and then the hippo joined in. I could never remember their names. Later I found out that the fight had been started by those gorilla bullies who tried to beat up everyone at the Happy Camper Orphanage, in spite of Ms. Puffin watching us like a hawk. I don't remember much about that fight, except this one snow wolf girl cheering for me, and then getting to do some kid's chores for a month cause apparently I'd broken his nose. Good times.
BAM!
Speaking of broken noses, I think I just broke mine on the law firm's front door. Wow, I didn't even feel winded. I opened the door this time, walking in to their front office as I marveled at how I hadn't even put a dent in the door. A voice you could probably hear across a football field brought me back to earth.
"Can I help you... miss?" The female toucan's high volume was probably for the recent door-collision, but it'd tapered out when she couldn't make out what gender I was.
I sighed, saying "I'm Mr. Johnson, here to see someone about a will." Let them figure out which room I'm supposed to go to. A bit of payback never hurt either, cause now she's all flustered while I'm glaring at her.
"I'm so sorry, sir. Umm, you want to see Mr. Jenkins. He's the third door on your left." She gestured at the only hall in the building, laughing nervously. I gave a disgruntled sound as I proceeded to the room. Really, even if she HADN'T told me which one, I know which one he's in. It's the only room with a light on, because he's the only lawyer in this company. I will never understand why my parents picked this firm to keep their will. Would have been safer in a cardboard box, in my opinion.
But I'm stalling and I know it. Knocking and getting an answering "Come in," I slowly open the door like it's about to bite me. I really hate this place. It always smells like old people.
Wait, never mind, that smell's coming from the old barn owl behind the desk. He creeps me out more than the building does, because the dude never blinks. Seriously, last time I was here, I got into a staring contest with him at the beginning of the meeting, lost in about 2 minutes, and he didn't blink until I left the room about an hour later. This guy's just plain disturbing. I hate dealing with him, but I have to if I want to know why I'm here again.
He looks up from whatever legal document he's reading and smiles at me, saying "How good to see you again. I actually wanted you here so I could apologize for not giving you this when you were here last time." He reaches for something on the floor and thunks a fairly decently sized box on his desk.
Good job mom and dad, taking my advice from the grave. Bravo.
"I would like to personally apologize for our filing problem, sir. This was to be delivered to you on your eighteenth birthday, but the stipulation detailing its delivery was lost in our cabinets." He gave me a sheepish grin (I didn't know an owl could even LOOK sheepish), "And we would like to offer our services free of charge if you continue to do business with us." Wow, that last part looks like it hurt to say it. Deserved it, though.
My only response is a non-committal grunt as I heft the box onto my shoulder. I'm trying to get out of here as quickly as I can before I rip the box open to see what's inside.
He quickly got up and hopped around his desk, feathers ruffling, "I sincerely hope you come back to us, sir. Your family has been a part of our business for decades, and we would hate to lose you due to a filing error." He's really trying to get me to keep paying them to make these mistakes with MY stuff. Nu-uh. Not gonna happen, bub.
"Thank you for realizing your error, and getting this to me promptly." I'm sure I could win an academy award with this act. "I'm sure it was a simple mistake, and I don't hold it against you," Oh yes I do, "But right now I don't have any legal business that needs taking care of, but I'll keep that in mind."
I'm pretty sure he said something else at that point, but I couldn't hear him over the wind as I ran down the hall and out the door with my box. Now I just have to get home without anything happening to sidetrack me.
Aaaaaaand it starts raining. FanFUCKINGtastic. Now I'm trying to keep my box dry by hiding it under my shirt. If the police don't stop me for looking like a really bad thief, I can maybe get home in about an hour if I walk. I could just call a cab, but I don't have enough cash on me. I really hope whatever's in this box won't be too damaged by the rain.
Looking around, I'm pretty sure I took a wrong turn somewhere in my mad dash, cause I'm surrounded by run-down houses. Wait, I remember one of them. That's the one we always ran to when we wanted to get away from the orphanage! I wonder if the key's still buried under the potted plant next to the door...
After a little bit of digging in some surprisingly loose dirt, I found the rusty key and unlocked the door. Letting myself reminisce about the many grand adventures my friends and I played out in the old place, I almost failed to stop before the shockingly cold metal could crush my windpipe.
Looking into the blue eyes staring out of the shadows and then glancing at the hook against my throat, I dropped the box, immediately forgetting it as I started laughing. He started laughing to, bringing the hook behind my neck to yank me into a tight hug, which I happily returned. I hadn't seen my best friend in far too long.
"How you been, Sly?"