ToonTown, 1962, Night 9 in Hollywood
He's gone. He's gone.
Feet numbly walked, one foot after another. Blank eyes stared at nothing. Arms wrapped around her body as though to hold herself together.
Real-life rabbits mate for life, doc, Buggy's voice echoed.
Wired after rabbits? Drawn after rabbits? Does it matter?
Her feet continuing to make a beeline to nowhere. Even her own voice inside her head sounded like a weary broken record.
He's gone. He cheated.
She couldn't raise Jack and Rose in the same city with him and Martha. She couldn't. Not without that part of her persistently calling out for the man that no longer wanted her.
Dirt tumble down her soiled fur. Gravel and grass lay trapped between the hairs. Rhoda couldn't even care less.
He's gone. Can't you see?
She couldn't succumb like the other the other rabbits. Not when her babies depended on her.
It was a fluke. A penny for a peasant in his end. He left me for Martha.
For her children to have a chance, she had to cut everything that holds her in ToonTown –her career, her friends, everybody. Mina, she made an exception. Mina, who didn't have anyone else. Mina, who would slap her the truth whether she wanted her to or not. Mina, who kept everyone away.
So you decided to put the Atlantic Ocean between you two?, Mina's dry voice resounded.
Self-loath stank inside her chest. Despite what her friends thought, she was the biggest boor bag of them all.
His taste tingled on her mouth and she rubbed the back of her hand on it.
He's gone. That was nothing but another lie.
Fifteen years. Fifteen years she kept back the part of her that made less sense than her own mind. All it took was a steady firm mantra to keep it at bay.
All it took to undo it all was one moment of impulse.
She had to find a way to be free of the one thing she couldn't help: her heart that still calls for him.
Rabbit feet stopped walking.
Blue eyes looked up at the dark, starless void.
In a dream-like memory, she could see Buggy shake her head. The rabbits just become obsessed, ruining their lives in the process.
For Jack and Rose, she have to.
ToonTown, 1947
They were drifting apart.
Rhoda lay in their bed. Sky-blue eyes wide awake in the dark.
It's just weeks, right? They were just busy in their separate careers –hers, acting in the day; his, singing at night. For some reason, Jesse was not included in any of their past cartoon shorts. She'll have to ask RK Maroon about that.
Rhoda rolled to her side, putting her hands under her head. Maybe, she could have a day-off so that she could spend some time with him?
She smiled, drifting off to sleep.
Moments later, the front door creaked.
Rabbit ears twitched but she continue to snore softly. The bathroom light clicked and the soft rush of water from the shower could be heard. Rhoda only grunted.
In the dark, azure eyes blearily opened when the bed moved. They widened even more when arms wrapped around her, strong and familiar.
"Mmf… Jesse?"
He didn't answer. She could feel him nuzzle the back of her head. She patted his arm reassuringly.
"I missed you," he said in a silent baritone that was muffled against her fur.
She smiled and closed her eyes, dozing off. But they opened again when she felt him press kisses on her neck. One of his hands roamed down her abdomen.
He wants to do it now? She reddened at the thought. But she turned around to face him. The air around him felt apologetic and sad. He must have noticed that they weren't spending so much time together.
The next morning, Rhoda woke up alone. That afternoon, someone left the Gossip column in the set for her to read. That evening, Rhoda never saw him again.
Months later, the Parisian air felt crisp and cool. Rhoda looked down on the occupied crib, staring at the sleeping outcomes of that one night.
Mina's Manor, 1962, Night 9 in Hollywood.
"THAT SONUVABITCH! THAT'S IT'! I'M THROUGH PLAYING NICE! I'M CALLING MAH LAWYER!"
The window panes shook with Aunt Mina's rage-fueled sonic booms coming directly from her throat.
Jack sighed as everyone began talking at once. They have told their aunts what they've seen. Maman in distress. Jack had ran outside, Rose tailing. The place where Maman had been suddenly exploded with dirt, leaving nothing but a rabbit hole and that man that wronged her… twice.
He gritted his teeth. He promised himself he wouldn't let that fils de salope hurt her again. He ran his hand over ginger hair and rabbit ears, looking around in frustration.
His eyes fell on his sister.
While their aunts were bickering, Jack took her hand and led her aside. She just let him tug her. Rose had told her share of events, detachedly –as though she cut off the connection of her heart to her mind.
Kneeling down to her level, Jack gently took her ears with each hand and tugged her close, pressing his forehead against hers.
"Rose, I can't do this alone," he whispered. "I know you're…" Hurt, tricked, heartbro- he shook his head, "-but Maman needs us."
His sister blinked, emerald green clearing. Jack let go of her ears. Rose looked down.
"I trusted him."
"I know."
Her eyes narrowed determinedly and he nodded, leading her back to their strange family.
"Calm down, girls!"
"FUCK THAT! I will not calm down! Once Rhoda gets back, I'm going to-"
"She's gone again? What is it with rabbits and running?"
"Daphne, for once, I agree with Elma Fudd that you should shut your bill sometimes."
"Oh yeah? You-"
"Nos Tantes," a soft voice said so quietly, their voices fell silently for them to hear.
Rose studied them, asking for peace. "I will go look for Maman," she told them. Jack nodded.
"I'm not fast enough to crawl in a rabbit hole but Rose can," he said, silently cursing his humanoid part of them that dampens his toon speed.
"No, kids. I'll go look for her," Buggy replied. Daphne was about to follow her when the rabbit lay a palm flat on her front. "Nope. Not this time, Daphne."
The duck swatted of her hand from her chest. "This isn't a cartoon where you can protagonize around, Buggy."
"Trust me, this is something rabbit-to-rabbit."
"Why?"
Buggy whipped her head to Rose whose eyes pierced her.
"Why can't Rose come with you?" Jack asked, his sapphire gaze equally penetrating.
Buggy blinked, feeling caught. "Well, you see, Jack-"
"We know Maman was keeping something from us again and we're tired of being 'protected from the truth'. J'en ai marre," Rose shook her head. Maman was being truthful when she told them that she never told their father that she was pregnant. But she didn't need to meet Jack's eyes to know that Maman was hiding the reasons why.
The gray-and-white rabbit sighed. "Jack, Rose. I'd love to tell you what I think happened to Rhoda. But right now, someone needs to find her."
Jack and Rose looked at each other. Buggy almost felt herself sweat at the silent communication in that briefest glance.
Rose bowed her head. If Jack felt that Aunt Buggy's sincerity was real then they would play along.
"You're right, Tante. Please be careful. We apologize for keeping you for this long."
Paris, 1960
"Maman! We're home!" Thirteen-year-old Jack yelled, bounding in.
"Jack, stop bouncing off the walls," Rose chastised, closing the door behind her.
He landed back on the floor with a thump. "You used to jump too before," he said. "How come you don't bounce anymore?"
"You really don't know?" Rose asked with a raised brow.
He spread his arms a little in a questioning manner. "What? Did something changed?"
Emerald eyes still trained on him, Rose jumped on her spot.
Jack stared. "What? There's nothing wrong with your hop."
Rose jumped again.
He rolled his eyes. "Again. There's nothing wrong with your jump."
Eyes still trained at him, Rose pointed at her chest and bounced.
Jack wave his arms around to block the offending sight. "Ew! Why did you let me notice that?! Quelle horreur!" He clutched his eyes with one hand. The other hand started reaching for something on the table. "I don't wanna see anymore! Someone hand me something sharp!"
She ignored him, frowning at her chest that she cupped with her hands. "I've always wondered why they're so big. Maman isn't even this well-endowed."
"Aaugh! Someone make me deaf too!"
ToonTown, 1962
Buggy leaned on the window of her mansion. Being a Hollywood Toon Star did have its perks.
When she followed the rabbit hole Rhoda made, she had ended up somewhere in Prairie Paint –a toon landscape where the soft ends of paintbrushes swing gracefully like grass in the wind. Rhoda's tracks ended when she reached the asphalt road.
Ya can't find a rabbit that ain't wanna be found.
Buggy rested her elbows on the window. She had an idea why Rhoda went berserk. Knowing her, she would go to her for help.
She perked up when she saw something in the darkness. Walking out of her door, she waited outside to meet it.
A dusty, dirt-trodden figure ambled towards her. Buggy tried to meet her eyes. But Rhoda just stared blankly with wide blue eyes.
WWWWSSSSSSSSHHHHH!
Rhoda yelled, trying to block the water power blast aimed directly at her. Sputtering, she tried to get up.
A soapy wave nearly threw her off her feet, making her look like a sudsy cumulus with legs.
"Wha-"
A hydro turbo fired at her relentlessly again. There was a gargled yelp before the water assault disappeared.
Her eyes cleared to reveal Buggy holding a fireman's hose.
"Bugs! Stop-"
Rhoda was suddenly pasted against the wall, the horrible scream of a giant hair blower roaring at her ears.
She dropped back to the ground as soon as Buggy turned it off. Rhoda's fur instantly fluffed.
"That's better," Buggy said, looking at the giant cotton ball.
Rhoda shook herself until her fur smoothed down again. Buggy put a hand on her shoulder, her face pulling into a sympathetic smile.
"You okay now, doc? You were looking like a zombie that dug its way up."
Rhoda looked around. They were in some kind of a large shower room.
"Where are we?"
"Geez, Rhoda? How out were you a while ago? You walked here!" She suddenly startled when Rhoda sat down and hugged her knees. "Whoa, watcha doin'?" she asked, tugging her up again.
Rhoda put her hands on her face. "Buggy, you were right about the pattern! No matter what I do, I can't make it go away!" she exclaimed. Buggy have to bit her lip when her eyes stung at the sight of her shimmering, melancholic eyes.
Rhoda rested her head on Buggy's shoulder. "I shouldn't have come back, Bugs! I thought I was doing fine and-"
Buggy patted her back. "Relax, doc. You've handled it well for 15 years. That counts something, eh?"
"It's because you've warned me, Buggy. I don't wanna know what I would do if I stayed." Rhoda shook her head, gripping Buggy's arms that they almost hurt. "Fifteen years and it still won't go away!"
Buggy took her by the shoulders and squeezed as though that alone would give at least the timid rabbit some strength.
"Whatever you were doing worked, doc."
Rhoda bit her lip with discontent. "I need to have peace, Buggy. I need to shut it once and for all."
Buggy tugged one of her ears in thought. "You can't fight an instinct that we were doodled after."
The other doe put her face in her hands.
"However…"
Rhoda looked up. Buggy is smart. If she's thinking about making a mad science equipment that will zap her in the brain, Rhoda would do it.
"Why don't you divorce him?"
Rhoda felt her heart stop. "D-divorce?"
Buggy nodded, dark eyes solemn.
The other rabbit began to wring her hands. "I dunno, Bugs. Jesse's more financially well-off. What if he gets child custody-"
"Hey, child custody always favors the mom." Buggy led her out of the shower room. "However, divorce is a messy business."
Rabbit feet padded towards the library with Rhoda in tow. "With divorces in California, someone's gotta be at fault."
Buggy pulled back a huge book as big as her torso. "Cartoon law is more or less like humans –only you got restrictions on how many rubber chickens you can own."
Opening the book, Buggy looked at Rhoda from across the table. "Do you have any evidence that he did something wrong?"
Rhoda looked up from her lowered gaze, uncertainly pushing her index fingers together. "I don't think-"
She froze, remembering the picture that Edna Valiant took. The picture that Rose and Jack had gotten.
Paris, 1948
The thing about art was that it imitates life.
Rhoda lay weakly on the toon hospital bed, admiring her babies asleep in a crib next to her. Even when asleep, the two held each other.
Laughter, was it still a powerful thing?
She looked out of the window, her hand plastered against the rain-stained glass.
If that is true, why can't laughter make it go away?
Rhoda rested her head against the cool window pane.
Jesse had still left her. She still loved him. Her babies are going to need all that she can give.
And she couldn't toon.
Not with this hollow hole inside her chest that seems to be sucking all life out of her. Not with this gloom.
How could she even find a job if she couldn't toon? How could she even take care of them?
Rhoda reached out a hand and ran a finger down one furry ear of her baby girl. Her eyes peeped out from barely opened lids, showing emerald gleam. Seeing her twins for the first time, holding them, evoked something, gave her something –hope, strength, call it what you want.
But it seems like there are other powerful forces besides laughter.
Mina's Manor, 1962, Night 9 in Hollywood.
The thorns were on again.
Grim eyes watched her back as she climbed up the stairs. Jack followed after her. Miniscule frost glistened on her fur defensively –like crystal thorns. Maman had indeed given her the proper name. With their aunts gone and Aunt Mina busy ranting at the phone, they decided to retreat.
Their footsteps led to the hallway and into their bedroom doors: Jack's on the left and Rose's across his. But instead of going inside his room, Jack followed his sister to hers.
Without a word, Jack took his sister in his arms and sat down on the floor with his back against the wall. He hugged her closer in the darkened room. The frost cracked softly on contact. She felt stiff, as though holding back something so fragile, it might break in open air.
Jack rubbed her back. Her fists pulled the fabric of his jacket taut, her whole being still but shaking. Jack rested his head on top of hers.
"He doesn't deserve tears," her voice rang, strong but shook at the very end. "But I bought this to Maman."
Jack suddenly pulled back. "What?!"
But Rose held on to him, not able to look at him.
"I was the one who said we should meet him. I'm the one who wanted to see him in the first place," she said harshly.
His hands lay slack on her shoulders. She wasn't punishing that Krupnik by not crying.
"Don't do this to yourself, Rose. This isn't your fault."
He hugged her close again. "None of us knew he'd be that…"
A sob broke out and his arms went around her protectively.
"You didn't do this, Rose."
Paris, 1957
The door slammed open.
"Those girls were hitting on you," Ten-year-old Rose stiffly said, her back once again was a cold wall.
"Oh c'mon! They were just talking to me!" Jack said, closing the door behind him.
Rose inhaled deeply. Her brother could be so oblivious sometimes. "Never mind that I waited for you for almost twenty minutes only to find you in another corridor surrounded by perfumed, asinine, eyelash-batting gigglers." She momentarily struggled with her scarf. I need help, she thought.
Jack unwrapped it with one hand while his eyes wandered upwards to the side as though remembering something.
"So that's where the ominous feeling I was getting from. It felt like hate rays were zapping me from somewhere."
Rose forcefully tugged the scarf from his hand. Not funny.
Jack took off his jacket and hanged it. "I wasn't being funny. You got to tell me these things, Rose. I can't read your mind."
Her brows furrowed further in irritation as they both went into the kitchen. "No, Jack. You got to be more observant of what people want from you." She hopped up into the stool to wash her hands.
Jack shrugged, his expression puzzled and unassuming. "Maybe they're just being nice." He poured himself a glass of icecold water and drank it with one gulp.
Rose shivered from the sink, her fur fluffing reactively. She shook her head. Funny, it's not even cold tonight.
Her brother was a lost cause. Why point out the giggling, the hair twirling, the simple touches that they do? It didn't even get through him. And where did she put that chopping board and the knife?
"They're on the table. I set them up for you," Jack said, washing the vegetables for ratatouille. He ignored the itch on the side of his head.
Rose thanked him absentmindedly, scratching his temple.
"Thanks," he said. She hopped off for the dining table, sighing.
"I can't read your mind either. Sometimes I wonder if we really are twins."
Mina's Manor, 1962
Mina sighed, looking out of the dark night. She had convinced the twins to get some rest. But she made up her mind to stay a bit longer in case Rhoda comes back.
She scowled at her own reflection. Damn Jesse and whatever his intentions were. She couldn't get a hold of him when he made Rhoda go away. But this time, she's going to make him pay.
She snorted, flicking the ash off her cigarette. Again, she asked herself why she care so much for one person.
She didn't need Rhoda. Fame, money, she got it all. She's one step ahead to making sure she won't lose everything that she have. Who needs friends when you got luxuries?
Rhoda was naïve. A klutz. A bunny with dim moments even.
But Rhoda was a spark. A spark of sunshine in a hedonistic Hollywood obsessed with fame and power. Yet, that didn't change her.
Despite the fact that Jesse and Acme fucked her up, Rhoda was still the trusting, simple, silly rabbit she met on Day One.
Or maybe she's just too idiotic too learn.
Mina rubbed her temples.
So no, she didn't need Rhoda in her life. She wanted her in her life.
And if she didn't sound like doggone dyke inside her head, maybe, just maybe, she'd tell it to Rhoda to show her she was not disposable. Not like Jesse did.
ToonTown, 1947
His plot to take down one of the biggest hotshots in Hollywood had just began.
Yet he still found himself reading her letter over and over again. When he memorized that, he read the ones that she crumpled up and tossed in the wastebasket. Inky lines were layered against words she found unsuitable. Questions, pleas, more questions, hurt that almost ripped the sheets with wild, hard scribbled erasures. He read them all and traced them as though to get closer to her thoughts. They barbed and pricked him. He didn't care.
When he eat, his eyes stared anywhere but the empty chair beside him, the unfilled mug placed on the counter and the stool she used to reach the sink.
At night, his side of his bed was abandoned to sleep on her side because it still smell like her. He would clutch the pillow and inhale deeply at her scent that still lingered in their bed.
Desperate, he was grabbing dregs of what would become the past.
Finally, he had to throw away the crumpled papers. Put away her mug inside the cupboard. Change the sheets of their bed. When that wasn't enough, he sold the house that wasn't a home anymore.
When he had ousted Maroon out of her own company, he threw himself to his mission.
Stop toons and humans from exploiting other toons.
1962, Somewhere in ToonTown
Divorce…?
Rabbit feet slapped the sidewalk, the miniscule of dawn's rays snipping at her heels.
"It might give you a sense of finality, Doc. Perhaps, even for him."
Jack would be glad. Rose… would understand. Her daughter is smart enough to know this won't change her relationship with her father. Her kids would only have to adjust minimally.
Can a divorce be done quietly?
Rhoda's hands gripped herself tighter. Jesse had done a lot of good for toons. Showing the photo as evidence of infidelity would smear his career. But Jesse has the power to keep it under wraps, hasn't he?
Therefore, the only thing that will be ruined is what's already ruined.
"Miss Rabbit."
Tired eyes glanced sideways to a limo keeping in pace with her. Peeping over the tinted glass, beady eyes looked back at her. Rhoda blinked, the toon inside was a rhino, judging by the way he cocked his head so that his horn won't get in the way.
"Come with us."
The doe looked at him in confusion. The paparazzi cannot be hounding her this early.
She forced a small smile. "I'm sorry. I don't take rides from strangers," she said before walking faster.
However, the limo kept pace. Panic began to creep in her mind.
"Someone would like to meet you," the rhino rumbled.
"I'm really not in the mood," Rhoda said, hurriedly turning into an alley. Heart beating faster, her rabbit ears stiffen at a car door slamming and footsteps following.
"You will need to come with us," the rhino said firmly.
Dead end. Her breathe began to quicken. She slowly faced him only to see two gorillas were behind him.
Usually, Rhoda would be pleading "P-p-p-please! Leave me alone!"
Usually, her internal war with her "rabbits-mate-for-life" wiring wasn't blown apart.
Usually, she doesn't want to get anyone hurt.
Usually.
Time seem to slow down when his henchmen charged at her.
"You all picked the wrong day," she softly said, pulling back her fist.
Paris, 1962
Bunny boxing is a comedic act on the ancient art of Slapstick-ery. Since it is considered funny when guys are suckerpunched and when girls can suckerpunch, bunny boxing is passed down through generations of does.
With an exception, Rhoda had also taught it to Jack to quell his bottomless pit of energy alongside Rose at the age of four.
Unfortunately, it wasn't enough.
Rhoda sighed, hearing her twins bicker again.
Furry feet padded to the kitchen, only to stop before the kitchenlight's reach. Rhoda put one yellow-gloved hand on the doorway.
"Red! They're all red!" Jack exclaimed exasperatedly.
Rose shook her head, a miniscule movement in the storm of energy that was Jack. "No, Jack," she said, with an air of matyric patience. She pointed at her dress. "This color is rosy or pinkish-red. Your jacket is cardinal which is a deep red. Maman's dress is spectrum red-
He threw up his hands. Clearly, they've been going at it for a while. "Jeepers! It doesn't matter if one shade's lighter or something! Put them all together and everyone will agree they're all-"
Jack was beginning to look more like the memory she'd buried. A memory that kept coming back in her waking moments. Jack's arms waved in exasperation, pumped fists in punctuation –so far from the imprinted figure in her mind.
Rose blew her bangs away from her left eye. "Identifying shades are important. It's a difference between tacky and tasteful. Which would explain a lot about your room, by the way."
"Hey! My room's-"
Rhoda rested her head on the doorway. The cool, emerald light in Rose's eyes contrasted differently from the arctic fire in Jack's. The way Rose sat so still and graceful in their threadbare kitchen chair was fit to be a frontpage of a glam magazine.
A sigh escaped her lips. There is no way all of their elegance, all of their smarts came from her. Jack, Rose, they got it all from-
"Maman?"
Their mother blinked, as though realizing she's there.
Jack looked down on the floor, his hands behind his back, looking already chastised.
"I'm sorry, I know you've told us to quiet down our arguments."
Rhoda shook her head out of her musings. "Oh, Jack. It's nothing big, really."
"But you looked so upset a while ago. Right, Rose?"
He looked at his sister for confirmation. But one look at his twin told him she didn't think it's about their quarrels.
"No, really! I'm fine!" Rhoda laughed. "You know what they say, 'The more they fight, the more they're tight!' so you two are really destined to be twins!"
Jack leaned backward, wrinkling his nose.
"How unfortunate," Rose dryly said.
Mina's Manor, 1962, Day 10 in Hollywood.
There was no sign of Maman yet.
Aunt Buggy called and said Maman insisted to walk alone.
Jack glanced at Aunt Mina glaring at the glass window. Her reflection finally threw up her hands and walked away.
"Pussy," she muttered.
Jack looked at the clock. Maman would never get them worried. But she does take long walks to help her think. Something about restless energy and not getting "it" easily.
He woke up with empty arms.
Jack stretched slowly, stiff. The blanket dropped off him. Rose must have put it over him when she woke up.
"We'll need to restrategize."
He looked up to see his twin, up and refreshed. His eyes roamed over her face, her posture and to something that can only be felt.
"I'm okay, Jack."
If there were any traces of sadness in her eyes, she hid it well with that cool but hardened gaze.
She's not yet okay.
DING DONG!
Jack was by the door in a flash.
"Maman-" his hands balled into fists at his sides. "You!
The guy cowered at the sight of the young man.
"Wait, I know you. Leroy Hyena? what are you doing here?" Aunt Mina asked, appearing behind Jack. "And what the heck are you wearing?"
Rose looked at the humanoid toon. He was frankly ugly –and wearing a stereotypical Asian attire.
Both of his twirled mustache quivered while he hid under his wide straw hat.
"He threw me all the way to China!"
Jack straightened up, folding his arms.
"You attacked Maman in broad daylight!"
"It's because I have something to tell Rhoda! It's about Jesse!" Leroy paused, looking at their stony gazes. "Is this a bad time?"
Hollywood, 1947
No ring, fair game, was Momma's simple rules.
When her mother shed father's surname, she had affairs, flings, trysts and bridges that lasts from a night of fun to weeks of wine. Martha remembered it all.
She wouldn't be like that, she had vowed.
Who needs men, anyway? Its better off beating them in a real Monopoly game where properties hold score, each US president in a green cotton paper works hard to bring you more US presidents in green papers, and every person knowing you hold a key to make their motives come true.
Anyone who said money is the root of all evil has only been an outsider of riches. She could get anything she want. She could help anyone she want, lift up anyone she could from the streets.
Martha isn't blind. She may be the goddess of prank products, each inspired with utmost foolery, but she's been in business for decades. Purse strings have power, and people are lining up for a piece of it.
She once had a ring 'round her finger, and there was no regrets when it ended. A bum who tried to take control of her business.
Men toons were better. They were drawn for fun, ideal even. No spats, no paranoid jealousy. They're Prince Charmings who leapt out of fairy tale books and into American soil.
Though Jesse now has a ring, nothing's wrong with being a fervent fan.
And if Jesse comes around, she'll make him an exception to Momma's rule.
1962, Day 10 in Hollywood.
Rhoda groaned. There was a ringing somewhere in her head, very near her ears. Her eyes cracked open, the headache zapping with intensity, before her eyes squeezed shut again.
She shook it off like a dog shaking water out of its ears. The chair she was tied to, rocked with every swing of her head until it lingered too long and too far on one side.
"Whoa!"
Someone caught her and the chair. A plumy bright orange tail wafted in her vision.
"Disastrous at moment's wake, I see."
Rhoda craned her head. Yellow eyes looked back at her, framed with mask-like markings of white fur against his fiery orange face.
"Antoine?" She asked with disbelief.
"Mon chou," he replied, righting up her chair again.
"Antoine!" she laughed. "What are you doin' here in good ol' Uncle Sam?" she exclaimed, her rabbit feet swinging happily.
"It's where a fox of my skills have taken me." He gave her smirk of familiarity, tipping her chin up with the tip of his fox tail. "You do realize you're tied up, don't you?"
She paused, looking down at her twine-tied body.
Memories flashed of her jumping on gorillas like they're trampolines. Leaping towards the rhino with a flying punch. And finally, an awful nails-on-the-blackboard piercing screech before everything went black.
His tail suddenly covered her mouth when she gasped.
Her heart hammered painfully inside her chest with his tail firmly placed on her mouth. She's been kidnapped! How could she forget that?
The chair creaked as she began to struggle. "An'tuf! Geff me ou' of 'ere!"
Blue eyes suddenly zeroed to the dog whistle tied around his neck.
"You're the one who did this?! Antoine! How-"
This time, his hand hushed her lips. "My boss can't know we know each other, cheri."
Rhoda looked around. She seems to be in some kind of non-toon garage. From the opened door, she could see the black glint of the limo from before.
"Why –who-"
Antoine kneeled down, untying her. "When my boss heard the target is Mr. Krupnik's wife, he jumped at the opportunity."
Her ears drooped as she looked down on her feet. She's no longer his anything.
Antoine paused, seeing a rare surly expression on her face. "Don't worry, my dear. I won't get you hurt."
"What do they want from me?" she asked. He gave her hand a squeeze at her miserable, tired tone before leading her out the door.
His fox tail flicked with irritation. "My boss didn't bother to know from his client. Jesse Krupnik has put him out of business before and he's been dying to get back at him," he whispered as they quietly walked out the shed.
She looked up. "Why? What did Jesse did?"
His head swiveled around before rolling his eyes. "Mr. Hornose' laborers were overworked and underpaid. It came to no surprise that they left when your husband gave them a better business opportunity." She followed him around the garage.
"But… you're still working for him?" she whispered, her heart hammering at the possibility of getting caught.
He grinned, showing his fangs. "I'm his bodyguard. After his factory shut down, he turned to 'security' business." He led her to the bushes and they crept along slowly. "Which I think, suits him more."
Antoine carefully peeped out of the bushes, checking if the coast is clear. "When I saw Mr. Krupnik, I instantly knew he's the father of your kids." He looked at her solemnly. "He looks so much like Jack…"
She bowed her head. "I know."
"With as much expression as an open-eyed comatose patient," he continued.
She looked at him blankly. A suppressed laugh came out of her mouth with as much grace as a whoopee cushion. Her hand flew to her mouth, her shoulders shaking. Much to Antoine's surprise, as well as hers, she started sobbing.
"Mon dieu," The fox said, wafting his tail around her shoulders. "I'm sorry. This must be stressing you too much."
Rhoda shook her head, wiping away tears with the back of her hand. "I'm just tired, Antoine."
"Exhausted, it seems."
His tail wrapped closer reassuringly before he spoke. "There's the gate. I'll take care of Mr. Hornose. Just jump over the fence."
She walked up to the fence when he held her hand.
"Stay safe, mon cheri," he whispered, kissing the back of her yellow glove.
Putting her foot on his linked hands, he boosted her out of the bushes and over the high stone fence. Rhoda swept out her arms gracefully, feeling the wind ran through her ears, her body curling into a ball as she reached the peak-
CRASH!
After the dust has settled, a shaking hand reached out of a crater shaped just like her.
"I assumed you didn't bounced on your posterior?" Antoine's voice asked apologetically over the fence.
"Oh no, just my face" she replied, heaving herself up. The birds tweeting around her head flew away and one perched on the mantle of the gate.
"I thought female toons bounce on their behind."
"Well, I'm a natural…." she distractedly said over the fence. "A natural disaster."
Antoine shook his head, a sentimental smirk in his lips. She is so different from the other women he encountered. And there have been many. Turning around, his foot stepped forward to return. He sighed, missing her already.
"Sacre bleu!" his fox tail fluffed with surprise. "Rhoda!?"
The rabbit stood before him again. His head turned to the fence behind her and back to her. "I thought you-"
"Antoine, I need to get back there. Now."
"But-"
"I know your client," she said, pointing at the gate's mantle.
End of Chapter 6 Part 1
( 1 ) What Buggy doesn't know is Maternal Preference laws were found to violate the 14th Amendment guarantee of equal protection under the law in the 1960s and 1970s. Around that time, joint custody began to increase. So, Rhoda would have probably shared their kids with their dad
( 2 ) Before you get a divorce back then, someone has to be at fault. But because of the deceptive way people do to get a divorce, the "No-fault" divorce gained national impetus in California in 1969.
( 3 ) SPOILERS FOR THE BOOK The rabbits-mate-for-life was the only explanation I can come up why Roger in the book "Who Censored Roger Rabbit" became a psycho.