Faith in Strangers
Chapter 2 – Gun
8:04 pm August 3rd 2003
Lighting a cigarette in an open top convertible was easier than I'd thought. A couple of flicks on the Zippo, with my paw cradling the flame from the wind, and I could taste the bitter smoke in my mouth.
I took the first drag, rested my arm on top of the car door and blew out the smoke, admiring the mellow pink-orange glow that the setting sun cast over the passing buildings of downtown Sahara Square. The car radio was tuned to Finnick's favourite station.
This part of Zootopia was especially sweltering in the summer, so I'd opted for a floral patterned cerulean shirt with white shorts. Finnick was, by some magic, still surviving the heat in his black jacket and maroon chinos; one of the benefits that came with having Saharan ancestors I guessed.
"So, did 'ya fuck her?" I heard his gravelly voice ask from the driver's seat. He was barely tall enough to see over the car's dashboard.
Smirking, I turned to look at the miniature fox, "Who?"
"That vixen you were chewing the face off at Andre's last night," He replied wryly, "Don't think I didn't see it."
"Oh her," I chuckled, "Nah I didn't, she wasn't really my type."
"Did get some good head though," I added, putting the cigarette back to my lips.
"Damn Nicky, you gotta get back in the game," He shook his head mockingly, "That girl 'Elli' really did a number on you didn't she?"
My eyebrows rose, "Look Fin, I ain't taking dating advice from a dog that's had..." I pretended to count on my paw, "Twenty separate girlfriends just this year. I wanna treat women with respect ya know?"
Finnick laughed in response, "You're just jealous you ain't got my silver tongue."
"Yeah, are all Fennecs whores or is it just you?" I rolled my eyes, "Besides, I was the one who ended it with Elli; she was fucking that wolf behind my back."
I scowled and took another drag, thinking about the silver vixen I'd been besotted with until two months ago.
"All I'm sayin' is you'll lose your touch if you leave it too long," He said, turning the car into a quieter residential area. My Mom's apartment wasn't far away now.
"I'm not gonna forget how to fuck, for god's sake," I retorted, "It's like riding a bike, you don't just forget."
He smirked, "Yeah, but I think you've probably ridden a bike more than twice Nick."
As I finished the last of my cigarette, flicking the butt out onto the street, Finnick pulled the convertible up against the curb and stopped the engine.
"Right," I said, reaching into the back to retrieve my Puma rucksack, "I've had enough of this bullying, so I'll catch ya tomorrow."
"Hey, hey, hey..." He pointed at me with his paw, "I ain't finished with you yet."
My expression went dead pan as I slouched back into my seat, "What? You gonna propose or something?"
"Better than that," He answered, smiling, "Look, I know you think I forgot your birthday, but that just ain't true. Your present was an absolute bitch to get, and I wanted it to be a surprise."
I looked at him quizzically. It was true, he hadn't even talked about giving me a present on my birthday, but I'd put that down to his usual 'too cool for stuff' attitude. Finnick had never struck me as the generous type.
"Check the glove box," He said.
Doing as he wanted, I pulled the handle on the box and watched it fall open. Inside was a very shiny, very new looking revolver. I was stunned into silence.
"Happy nineteenth Nick"
"Holy shit..." I grinned, "Is this real?!"
Finnick nodded, "One hundred percent authentic."
I picked up the weighty gun carefully, my paws vibrating with a mixture of fear and delight. It was beautiful in a very frigid way, with a long silver barrel and a six round bullet chamber that reflected the warm evening light. The moulded plastic handle had a small rivet at its centre, engraved with the words 'Colt Anaconda- medium mammal'.
For the past seven years I'd wanted this, wanted to feel like a real 'businessman', and holding the chrome weapon firmly in my paw, I knew that this was the start of something new, something important and best of all, something thrilling. Now, I could finally conquer my own small world.
"Ya like it?" Finnick asked, snapping me out of my criminal fantasies.
"I-It's fucking incredible..." I breathed out, "How could you afford something like this?"
He chuckled and looked at me slyly, "Well I talked to Andre down at the bar, and he said he knew a mammal that could get quality fire-arms on the cheap, so I phoned him up. And before you ask again, it definitely ain't fake; I had the boss give it a once over before I gave it to you."
"I dunno what to say..." The childish smile on my face showed no signs of drooping, "Thanks Fin, this... This means a lot to me."
His eyebrows rose, "Now don't go gettin' all soppy on my ass Nick, I just figured 'cos things are heatin' up at work you might need somethin' to get you outta those sticky situations."
"Well I think this'll do the trick," I said, gleefully spinning the bullet chamber around, "You got any ammo, or do I have to actually pay for that?"
"I ain't made of money Nick," He replied blandly.
I smirked, "Aww, and there was me thinking I finally had my own sugar daddy."
He didn't look amused, "I'm gonna shoot you with that thing if you don't get outta my car."
"Ugh, fine," I said sarcastically, unzipping my bag and carefully placing the gun underneath a sweater, beside two wads of cash and a small clear bag of blue powder. I slung the rucksack onto my back and clambered over the car door, walking casually round to the sidewalk.
"Call me if you want another date!" I shouted over to Finnick, making a 'call me' sign with my paw.
"Fuck off Nick!" He answered, before putting on a pair of bronze aviators and starting the convertible's engine. I watched the orange sports car roar off down the road and round a corner.
The August heat was much more pronounced now, and I felt my fur getting sweatier with every second I stood idle. It was temperatures like this that made my spring moult worth the weeks of bad hair days.
Turning on my heel, I looked up at the familiar red-brick apartment block and started strolling towards the entrance, my tail swishing the ground behind me in contentment. After climbing a few steps, I pushed open the huge wooden door and walked into the dim foyer. The spinning ceiling fans couldn't mask the scent of old cigarette smoke and dust that immediately greeted my sensitive snout; it was a smell I'd come to associate with home.
Viktor, the old grey ram who also happened to be our landlord, was seated in a worn out green armchair in the corner of the room. I waved to him as I passed, and he briefly glanced up from his newspaper before grunting in response. The elevator that had been broken since '97 was still out of service, so I conceded again to another stair-marathon. It was the only exercise I got these days.
Following a few minutes of strenuous climbing, I was outside the door to apartment 402. Mom usually finished work about 6:30pm which, according to my timing, meant I should have arrived just in time for dinner. I opened the door and shuffled into the small hallway. Most of the cream coloured walls were decorated with pictures of me at various stages of development, from kindergarten kit to high school graduate. The rest of the apartment was tiny to say the least, but at the moment it was all we could afford; especially since my Mom's job paid virtually nothing. Soon, I hoped I'd be able to save up enough money to buy my own place, and finally get out of her fur.
"Hi Mom," I yelled in the general direction of the kitchen.
Coming home from 'work' I was usually met with pleasant cooking smells, but this time my hungry nose picked up nothing.
I frowned slightly, "Mom?"
Silence followed.
"Nick, can you come in here please?" I heard her ask with an eerie quietness.
Swallowing, I complied and stepped into the kitchen. Her slender scarlet figure was seated at the small wooden dining table. She was still wearing her navy cleaning uniform, and her head was bowed towards the ground, ears flattened backwards. I could just make out her paws fiddling with something under the table.
"Mom, are you ok?" I questioned worriedly.
She looked up at me with sore blue eyes; it was immediately obvious she'd been crying.
"Care to explain this..?" She stuttered, holding up the object she'd been fidgeting with.
My blood ran cold.
The bag of blue powder was unmistakeable.
It felt like a sledgehammer had been hit violently into my gut as I tried desperately to form words. How had she found that? Had she deliberately checked under my bedroom floorboards?
"I-I...it's uh..."
She didn't wait for me to answer, "This is howler Nick, it's a class A!" Her tone of voice was getting more hostile with each passing moment, "Possession could get you 15 years!"
The pure betrayal that I saw in the vixen's bloodshot eyes was enough to start crushing my conscience beyond repair, and I felt a vitriolic defensiveness start to cloud my thoughts.
"I know what it is Mom," I blurted out shakily.
She stood up from her chair and faced me head on, her arms convulsing with rage. I moved back slightly.
"Do you remember when you told me, no, promised me you'd never get involved with this shit?!" She spat the last word out with caustic anger, "Why Nick? Why did you lie to me?! This stuff could kill you for fuck's sake!"
Inside, I was beginning to feel numb, as if my mind was trying to convince me that none of this was actually real.
"Where did you find that?" I asked, sounding slightly sterner.
She stared wide eyed into me for a few seconds before responding, "Under your loose floorboard."
"So you thought it was a good idea to just go through all my personal stuff?" A hint of anger crept into my voice.
"I had to know Nick!" The vixen cried out, "I didn't feel I could trust you anymore."
It was then that I noticed the empty scotch glass on the kitchen counter.
I huffed in indignation, "You had no right to do that!"
"I had every right to try and keep you safe!"
A look of disgust contorted her face, "Did Finnick get you into all this!?" She shook her head, "you should never have hung around with that hood-rat."
I could feel my paws clenching into fists as she insulted my friend.
My gaze narrowed, and I snarled slightly, "We wouldn't even be here without him."
Mom and I both stayed silent for a moment, breathing heavily, before I slung my bag off my shoulder and let it fall heavily onto the table.
"You wanna know what we do?!" I barked, unzipping the rucksack and pulling out my new gun and the other packet of howler.
"No, Fin and I don't sell used car parts, we sell this shit. Sometimes take it too!" I grabbed the two wads of cash and waved them in front of her frantically, "But it gives us this, and without this, you and I would be out on the fucking streets!"
She stared at the gun in disbelief.
"I pay for half the rent already, and I dunno, maybe if you tried holding down a job for more than two months I wouldn't have to!" I exclaimed, "But 'til that happens, if I stop selling, we lose the apartment!"
Her paw pointed at me, and her words dripped with acid, "How dare you talk to me like that, I work my fucking ass off for us."
I sneered back at her, "No you don't! You spend all our spare cash on liquor and drink yourself to sleep every night! That's why you keep getting fired, you're too fucking drunk to function! You think I don't notice all the empty bottles that get piled up every week?!"
"Oh, you have no idea what I've been going through!" The entirety of her body shook with hot anger.
I pointed my paw viciously at her, "No, I know exactly what you're going through!" My voice roared with fury, "You still haven't gotten over the fact that Dad didn't want you anymore, that he left us for that fucking ARCTIC WHORE!"
"Well guess fucking what Mom, you NEED to get over it, 'cos he's
NOT
COMING
BA-"
A sharp pain whipped across my left cheek, making me stagger back against the kitchen wall.
Small rivulets of blood began to drop from my face and onto the floor.
As I locked eyes with her, I saw the fiery spark of hatred burning in my Mom's gaze, and it was only then that I realised how much damage had been done. Her right paw was still outstretched, extended claws stained red with my blood. For a while our panting was the only sound in the room.
Gradually, her expression turned to one of terror, her face scrunched up in pain, and she began to sob.
I wiped my face with the back of a paw and choked back a lump in my throat.
"I'm leaving," I muttered quietly, before walking over to the table and putting the revolver, the money and both packets of blue powder into my bag. Carrying it out with me, I hastily left the kitchen and opened the door to my bedroom. The orange walls were plastered with posters of various musicians, films and books, but I headed straight to the big one of 'Bunny Rich', peeled it off, rolled it up and stuffed it into the rucksack. Next came clothes, of which I had very little, followed by a few books, most of my CD's and an alarm clock.
The final thing I needed was funds, so I knelt down beside my bed and peered into the darkness underneath. I could just about see the loose floorboard that had been moved aside, and reaching into the rectangular hole, I grabbed three thick wads of cash.
Slipping the now very full bag onto both shoulders, I surveyed the remnants of my bedroom. An old framed picture of my Mom and I smiling together stood on top of my draws. I stared at it for a couple of seconds before turning out into the hallway; there was no room in my bag for anything else.
With an unsteady paw I pushed open the apartment's front door and stopped. I could still hear my Mom crying in the kitchen, but the heavy fog of shock continued to cloud my thoughts, and I felt nothing.
I walked into the corridor, shut the door behind me and made my way down the staircase, my steps wobbly and exhausted. As I reached the foyer, I heard Viktor grunt at me again. This time I ignored him, quickly leaving through the large entrance. It was now practically dark outside; the only light being the soft orange glow of the street lamps on the sidewalk. I leant up against one of the lamps and sighed, letting the night air clear my head.
A cavernous well of terrifying and unwanted emotions began to bubble up to my conscious mind. Fragmented memories of the good times I'd spent with her as a kit, of us laughing together, of her being kind and loving invaded my thoughts, and the urge to cry became almost overwhelming. My Mom didn't deserve cruelty, but that's exactly what I'd given to her. I touched the bleeding claw marks on my cheek, the pain reminding me of deeper wounds that might never be healed.
Taking a deep breath, I wiped my watery eyes and hardened my expression; I needed a plan of action now.
I fished a small flip phone out of my short's pocket and dialled Finnick's number. After a few rings I heard his voice answer on the other end.
"Yo Nick, what's up? Lost your present already?"
"Hey Fin..."
I swallowed.
"I-I need a place to stay for a while."