A Day to Remember

Nick stepped out of the van, his paws meeting cool asphalt. He stretched his arms and legs, groaning in relief as his joints popped. He cracked his back as he observed their rest stop for the night—a cheap looking motel that also happened to have a bar next to it. His former partner made a beeline for the bar's entrance, delegating the room booking to Nick.

The red fox dug out an ID and readied some cash as he pushed through the motel office door. An older looking ocelot with a thin pair of reading glasses stood behind a standard oaken desk and greeted Nick as he stepped inside.

"Hello, are you looking to stay the night?" he asked. "Or perhaps longer?"

"Just the one night. How much?"

"Is 40 dollars agreeable to you?"

Nick nodded and thumbed out the appropriate bills. He placed them along with his ID onto the desk. The ocelot raised a curious brow as he picked up the money. Noticing the feline's expression, the canine asked, "Is there something wrong?"

The motel manager shook his head. "No, it's just that I don't often see Zootopian currency around these parts."

Nick cursed underneath his breath. He had forgotten about different types of currency. He'd have to swap out some of his money once he got to Pattermort. "Does that mean that I have to find some sort of currency exchanger or something?"

"No, Zootopian currency is fine," the cat replied. He removed a pair of bills from the amount Nick had given him and slid them back towards the fox. "The currency here isn't as strong as the one used in the city. Speaking of which, you're a long ways away from there aren't you?"

"Yeah, and I'll be going further." Fortunately, the ocelot got the message and didn't pursue the matter anymore. Nick pocketed the extra money and began signing a form that the ocelot procured from behind the desk. Once finished, the former con artist pushed it back and received a key in return. The tag attached to it read, '954'.

"Go around the corner to your right and your room will be three doors down," the manager said. "Have a nice night."

The fox grunted and exited the office, taking a left towards the bar. As he approached the door, he heard the muffled sound of low-beat music. The smell of smoke and alcohol assaulted his nose when he went inside, but it hardly bothered him. He had plenty of experience with places like this before in his past. The dim lighting and hushed conversations were all too familiar.

His eyes scanned across the room, spying Finnick's sandy coat in front of the bar. He took up an empty seat next to the desert fox and said, "Our room's 954." Finnick's response was simply tilting a bottle of cheap beer into his mouth. Deciding to follow his example, Nick raised a paw for the bartender's attention. "Got any bourbon?"

The bartender, a thin red wolf, looked up from the glass he was cleaning. "German okay?"

"Sure."

The wolf pulled out a different glass and a bottle off the shelf behind him. "You've got good taste," he said, pouring the drink. A thin smile was spread across his lips. "This stuff is straight from the city."

Nick slid some money over to him as he placed the drink in front of the fox. The wolf eyed him much like the motel manager had, no doubt for the same reasons. At the very least, he didn't try to bother Nick with any conversation, allowing the off-duty officer to drink in peace. He took a sip, letting the smooth liquid roll over his tongue before swallowing.

It tasted like crap.

"Something wrong?" the wolf asked.

"No," he replied as he took another swig. This time, he let the alcohol fall straight down his throat, not wanting to entertain the idea of tasting it anymore. He couldn't understand why the bartender seemed to have a high opinion of the stuff; the cheapest drinks from the seediest bars back home were better than this.

Maybe that was why he disliked it; he wasn't home. He was hundreds of miles away from the place. And counting.

But he knew that that alone wasn't enough to ruin things. No, it was the thought of his deadbeat dad that soured his mood and his drink. Nick tensed his fingers around his glass and poured some more alcohol into his mouth. The old fox was better off dead, but judging from the letters Nick got, he was still out there and his only clue was some guy in Pattermort. If he was lucky, Nick would find his sorry excuse for a father within minutes of arriving at the city and he'd be able to give him a piece of his mind—and maybe a bit of the bat Finnick kept in his van.

Ultimately, he couldn't pin all the blame on his old man. As much as Nick loathed to admit it, it was his own fault too. He had been so young and naïve. He trusted that his dad would stay in the picture, believed that his dad was different from the rest, and thought that his dad wouldn't be another stereotypical tod. His fellow classmates in school had told him otherwise, but he had stupidly ignored their words. If only he hadn't.

Loving his father had been the very first scam he'd ever been subjected to. And he learned from it—he had learned to never blindly trust another animal. That was probably why Judy's words from the press conference had cut through him so heavily. At least she had an excuse, though; she was just a dumb bunny.

As the bourbon slowly disappeared, a mildly disheveled vixen slid up into the empty spot beside him.

"Hey there, handsome," she greeted in sultry undertones. "That's an awfully mean face you're makin', but how about I change that for you, hmm?"

Realizing that he had started showing off some of his emotions, he forced himself to relax. "Not interested," Nick deadpanned.

"Don't be like that. It won't cost you a cent," she cooed. She smirked and then added, "Though it might cost you your night."

She placed a sensual paw on his shoulder, but he just shrugged it off. "Find someone else to waste your time on."

The vixen pouted before trancing off. "Fine. Your loss, stud. But if you ever change your mind, I'll be around…"

Nick only scoffed and rolled his eyes. Finnick, however, looked between him and the departing female, eventually staring at the male fox in disbelief. "The hell is wrong with you?" the desert fox barked. "Why would you let a perfectly good piece of tail walk away like that?"

Nick paused, holding up a two-thirds empty glass up to his lips. "Unlike you, Finn, I've got standards. Besides, I'm not in the mood for a night of regret."

"Tch. If you're not gonna have a go at her, I will," he replied, hopping off his seat. Finnick left Nick's field of vision, but the red fox could still hear everything that followed.

"Hey, babe. You still lookin' for a good time?"

"Sorry, but I've got standards. I'm not in the mood for a 'night of regret.' This 'piece of tail' has got better things to do."

Nick snorted in mild amusement as his shorter friend returned noticeably peeved. "Fuck you," was the only thing Finnick had to say before resuming his drinking.

The off-duty officer continued to sip on his bourbon and looked around the bar some more. The only interesting thing was a badger and a mongoose talking about…

"Ha, I told you that the Fliers would win. The Keepers haven't been any good since Grizz. Now pay up."

"Ugh, Dromaius just got a lucky hit in."

Baseball. Of course. That was his cue to room up for the night. He downed the rest of his alcohol and got up. "I'm heading in," he said, slipping Finnick a spare key. As he pulled the door open, he heard one final exchange from the badger-mongoose pair.

"What I would give for the good ol' days of the Keepers."

"Please, they haven't been any good in over 20 years."

Nick stuffed his hands in his pockets, bracing himself as a cool brush of night air enveloped him. "'Over 20 years,' huh?" he repeated to himself.

"Alright, let's see what we got here…" Nick's dad said. The two foxes scanned the souvenir stalls in front of them, looking for something to remember the game with.

Nick's young eyes darted between baseball bats to jerseys, grinning all the while. Getting any one of them would be the best thing ever. His gaze landed on a baseball glove on the far left. The leather looked shiny and new, a stark contrast to the worn, beat-up material of the one he was currently wearing. "How about that?" he said, pointing. He looked up at his dad hopefully.

The older fox wore a strange expression the younger one couldn't quite make out. His response took a little longer than he expected too. "You've already got a glove, don't you, Nick? Maybe you can get something else."

"Yeah, I guess…" Nick said, deflated. "What about—"

He felt his father tug on his arm, leading him to a different booth. "That stall might have something. Come on."

The kit stretched out a small paw towards the new glove before dropping it and following his father. They spent the next several minutes drifting from booth to booth, never buying anything despite Nick finding something he'd like at each one. After looking through each stall, the pair of foxes stood empty-pawed in a deserted corner of the stadium.

His dad knelt down beside him and rested a paw on his head. "Sorry, son. It doesn't look like we can get you that souvenir today." The older male wrapped his son in a short embrace and offered him a smile. "We'll get something next time, okay?"

Nick did his best to suppress his disappointment and reminded himself that his dad still managed to get tickets to see his favorite team. He returned the hug. "Okay. Thanks for taking me to the game today, dad."

His father beamed proudly at him. "You're welcome, sport. Now let's get home before your mother starts worrying."

The two began walking towards the exit when a deep voice called out to them. "Hey! You two foxes stop right there!"

Nick's ears perked up, recognized the owner of the voice. He turned around swiftly, mirroring his father. His eyes became saucers as he realized that the Dan Howland was not only several feet away, but was also talking to them. He couldn't contain his excitement. "Dad, look! It's Dan Howland!"

The wolf for the Zootopia Keepers smirked. "Heh. You a fan, kiddo?"

"I'm like your biggest fan!"

"I thought so." The larger canid looked from Nick to his father. "You guys just gonna walk away without a souvenir?"

"We—" Nick started, but his dad cut him off.

"Ah, well, nothing fit quite right for the occasion, you know?" The adult fox tugged on the kit's arm, leading them to the exit. "We should get going."

"'Nothing quite right for the occasion,' huh?" the athlete repeated. "How about a baseball signed by yours truly?"

"You don't have to—" This time, it was Nick who cut his father off.

"That'd be so cool!" Nick shouted.

Howland removed a pen and a baseball from his pockets. He began to write something across the ball's surface. "What's your name?"

"It's Nick!"

He tossed the ball to the kit, who caught it in his glove. "Well, Nick, make sure you stay in school and make your father proud, alright?"

Nick nodded vigorously while his dad looked at the star with his mouth agape. "H-how much do—"

"Free of charge. My dad was the same way when I was younger. Just keep doing whatever you're doing." The baseball player saluted the pair goodbye. "Later!"

Once the wolf left, Nick looked up as his dad in amazement. "I can't wait to tell my friends!"

His father grinned down at him. "Wait until your mother finds out. She'll be ecstatic. Now let's go. She's waiting for us."

Judy chuckled as she read the text Mr. Otterton sent her.

OMG I can't believe you have a baseball signed by Dan Howland‼ I mean I guess I have it now though but I promise I'll be careful!

She idly wondered if the florist would try to keep it somehow. She quickly ruled out that possibility as the otter was far too kind to do something like that. Still, she was a little worried that something might happen to the baseball. If it was as valuable as Otterton made it out to be, she didn't think she could ever make it up to Nick if she had lost it. She already had the task of explaining to him when he returned why she had given it out to someone else in the first place.

Or why she had his box of secrets, as she had dubbed them, right next to her on the couch.

What was she going to tell him anyways? 'Hey, I snooped through your stuff and shared some of it with a couple friends?' No, that wasn't going to fly. She had to come up with a better excuse, but that would be the Judy of the end of the week's problem. Today's Judy was going to try to do some of her own research in the meantime.

The bunny began by pulling out the crumpled drawing. Normally, she wouldn't have bothered with some picture drawn with crayon, but she needed every clue she could get. Looking at the only text on the piece of paper, she brought up Zoogle and searched for 'Wilde and Son's.'

When there were no results, she couldn't help but feel disappointment despite knowing that nothing would probably show up. Silently, she moved onto the photo and flipped to the back. She entered the date written on the back and blinked in surprise when her phone told her that it had been a Father's Day. And if she performed the simple arithmetic, Nick would have been age 6 at the time, which seemed consistent with the photo.

She studied the kit's face in the picture and imagined the present-day Nick standing beside him. The child's wide grin clashed heavily with the adult's smug smirk. Had it not been for the eyes, she never would have guessed that it was the same fox she was partners with. Then next to that fox was someone who was almost certainly his father.

Judy tried recalling all the conversations she had with Nick about his past, but as she went through every exchange, not once had he mentioned his father. He did, however, mention his mother. In fact, the bunny had already met the vixen a few times already; the first time had been at Nick's graduation ceremony. She looked through her contacts list, stopping once she found Mrs. Wilde.

Taking a deep breath, the bunny cop hit the call button.

This one was quite a bit earlier than I had expected, but also a bit shorter. The next one should be more consistent with my other chapter lengths, but we'll see. It'll feature Nick's mom again with more of a focus on Judy's perspective. I also included a small reference to a favorite show of mine (just like I did in chapter 2, but that one is a lot more subtle).

Thanks for reading!