Cold Silence
By the early evening, Big's Bar and Limo was quite lively. Tendrils of smoke floated through the air from the many tables on the main floor and merged to form a sharp musky cloud smelling synthetically of plants, oils, and sugars. A dispatch center upstairs sat closed off from the noise of the floor. Business as usual. Posh Zootopians across the city from all districts requested limo service from the one legit successful business owned by Big.
A squirrel walked into the club just recently. He slowly walked from the entrance to the bar, glancing at the visitors that sat in small groups on the circled tables on the floor. He looked ahead and noticed a polar bear sitting with an irritable expression. Is that one of Bogo's officers? The squirrel got closer and after staring for a moment more, he finally recognized who it was. It was Grizzoli.
Grizzoli knocked back a Red Dragon. A black-cherry vodka beverage with a special ingredient: crushed rock worm. A three-inch long worm with orange scaly skin. The drink itself wasn't very popular but it looked like he was enjoying it despite the apparent grimace he made after another large gulp. He lapped up the unidentifiable mush from the bottom of his glass and closed his eyes, savoring the sour aftertaste.
The squirrel looked around curiously a moment longer before sitting on a stool by the bar, just to the right of Grizzoli. As he waited to be served, he stared up at the station booth upstairs. Large windows allowed the operator inside to peer down onto the main floor as the operator worked behind a long table with phones and notebooks strewn about. Pictures of popular destinations were tacked to the left wall of the booth. But from the squirrel's position, he couldn't make out the locations clearly. The dim blue and orange lights of the bar that painted the gray haze hovering like thunder clouds on the main floor didn't help.
An otter approached him, stealing his attention.
"What are you having today?"
"Just your best beer." He glanced at the casually dressed otter, committed to short responses.
"No food? We may not have many vegetarian options but we do have roasted walnuts and celery. But a few bugs can't hurt a squirrel ya? What's your name?" The squirrel smiled,
"Simon Marr. And no, just one of your better beers is fine, thank you."
"Suit yourself. Call me Steve." Steve turned for one of the 'better beers' in his stock. He settled for a top-shelf brand called, "Sailor's hymn" then slid it across the table.
Simon reached into his left pocket and pulled out a small cylindrical spray bottle. He sprayed the back of his throat, swallowing and holding in a breath. He slowly breathed out with a low hum in his throat. His voice smoothened and increased by half a pitch. Simon stared at the picture on the bottle: A small boat bullied by heavy winds and waves. He could hear the water in his thoughts drowning out the noise of the bar. The cool touch of the bottle only supported his imaginings. For a moment, his nose twitched like it could smell the salty air of the sea. But it was just the condensation on the bottle. The otter repeated a second time before he was noticed by Simon,
"Hey, eight bucks. You alright?" Simon blinked to attention,
"Oh, of course. Sorry." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a $10 bill and handed it to the otter.
I should get back out to sea sometime, he thought. Once Simon received his change, he thanked the otter then asked,
"Are there any free positions available here?" Steve shook his head and in a hard expression said,
"We're not hiring. Not anymore. Good staff, loyal and smart. No newbies allowed." With a disappointed nod, Simon retreated to the back of the club finding an empty seat amongst the crowd. He observed and listened to the chatter around him, slowly sipping his beer. It was smooth. Creamy. The bitterness of the hops lingered on the taste buds softly while a gentler aroma filled his nose and throat.
Fantastic...
Simon hoped to pick up any useful information while sitting in the club. Maybe he could find a chatterbox that would slip some useful info his way in his struggle to get a step ahead of Big. He touched the fur on his neck, pretending to scratch the area. A low pitched whirring sound became audible in his ears. The noises of the room were amplified. He filtered out the muddied chatter and focused one by one on different conversations around the bar and stared at his phone. He discreetly opened up a notepad app and began typing out random sentences of interest he heard from the patrons around him.
"I hear there was supposed to be a meeting in two days with Big," said a weasel.
"It was called off!" his female friend said.
"Seriously? He canceled another one? What's up?"
"He is having some trouble with one of his workers. Time for some discipline."
"Oh geez, another one? Disgraceful."
"Yep. You cross the shrew, you get the box." Simon clenched his jaw, disappointed that he wasn't hearing any solid details about this 'meeting.' Maybe Big would have spilled it all in that meeting. It seemed like Big was trying to set something up but he keeps having setbacks. This just gives Simon and his allies time to prepare and gather more information. Just what are you up to, Big?
A lion stormed into the bar with a panicked expression. Instantly intrigued, Simon sat up from his seat and peered around the mammals present in front of him to listen in. Grizzoli instantly snapped,
"Delgato, you fucked up. Big time. And yes, that pun was intended."
"I know!"
"What happened exactly? Let's go through it again." Delgato rested his paws on his hips and nodded as he spoke slowly,
"Judy Hopps interfered with the collection. I couldn't incriminate myself in front of her."
"So you sent a pair of street punks to do your job. Is that right?"
"They got carried away. And the cops somehow showed up when they were in the middle of getting the money. It was just supposed to be a cover. To make it look like a robbery so that the trail gets thrown off me and Nick. But it all went bad. Nick was attacked and ended up in the hospital. And Flares is hiding out with Big's money. He probably bailed on us, I don't know. And now the Chief has Nick in for questioning!"
"Flares?" Grizzoli looked at Delgato incredulously. "You picked a bunch of retards to do this and now you have to accept the fallout for it. I'm not standing by your side for what comes next. And you got Nick hurt and arrested. What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"Please, you got–" Grizzoli shook his head impatiently,
"I gotta make sure I stay on Big's good side as well. Sorry, you're on your own, kitty cat." Grizzoli brushed past Delgato with a hard shoulder bump.
Intrigued by the information and inwardly pleased with the misfortune of some of Big's henchmammals, Simon made note of what he heard and texted his discovery to Judy. He warned her about Grizzoli and confirmed their dinner arrangement for next week.
Before hurrying his way to Big's Bar and Limo as Simon Marr, Jack was with Judy at the spice café talking about her adventure the previous night and her trip to the hospital the following morning. From the earlier conversation with Judy, He was familiar with some of what he just heard from the corrupt officers. But to hear everything and more that Judy said confirmed through Delgato and Grizzoli only strengthened his confidence in Judy and himself. And to hear the reasons laid out in full helped him paint a better picture of what has been happening.
Lunch went exceptionally well. Cheering Judy up after her depressing hospital visit rewarded him with a second date that preoccupied his thoughts, even while he turned his attention to more pressing matters. The squirrel disguise was beginning to become uncomfortably warm and his body was making its discomfort known by shortening his breaths. Jack hurried to the bathroom to cool off and keep from becoming disoriented.
Delgato stood alone in the bar and whimpered. Grizzoli had abandoned him. He read Big's message again in an attempt to numb himself to the threats. He still avoided responding to Big but he planned to reach out once he built up enough nerve to face the shrew. But if he was going to find some source of encouragement he had to locate Flares. He stormed out of the bar determined to find the goat while having no clue where to begin.