Everything Is Blue

by TrishaBeakens

Kimbra Wulfe was the head of the project department at EcoTech. She finally had gotten the chance to have her project approved. Sadly, her boss, Dr. Ainsley denied letting her choose her own sponsor. The scientist has to deal with a sponsor that Ainsley picks for her and get the project finished in the upcoming months, so she can leave St. Canard.

39. Chapter 39

Apartment 402 at GraStone Village was so quiet that you could hear the horns and the traffic through the closed windows. The only sound that echoed in the place was the ripping of tape. A ray of light shone through the window, illuminating the apartment kitchen in a yellow warmth. Despite it being February, the weather had been pleasant (aside from a few evening chills).

At the table, sat Kimbra, nearly done with wrapping Bud's Valentine's Day gift. She actually thought it was a meaningless holiday. It never really mattered to her in the past. She'd always refuse gifts from potential suitors. Mock them for celebrating something as trivial as Valentine's Day. Never really bought anyone a gift, much less ever celebrated it herself.

But this year would be different, she vowed. This year she would do all the ridiculous traditions. She'd give Bud a sappy over thoughtful gift. A generic card with a boring message on the inside. Gush to him about how much their relationship meant to her.

And… well… whatever else couples did on Valentine's Day.

…

She'd figure out the rest of it later.

Bud Flud felt like his life was finally going in a way he could enjoy. This was what he'd been waiting for. True genuine happiness. Before Kimbra, he had lived without any feeling or passion. He loved her. He loved what she had brought to his life and what she brought out in him.

And that was rare for him this early in a relationship.

Before he met her, the hound was just Bud Flud, owner of Sparkling Crystal Pure Flud Water who went home, ate if he felt like it, and stayed up until late watching his brother's talk show. He mainly went through the motions until he met her, but after Bud realized he'd fallen in love with the Samoyed, it was only then did he start truly living.

The sunshine to his wilting flower.

Bud had just pulled in front of Kimbra's apartment complex, parking his car. He turned the key, shutting it off with a small dreamy sigh. The hound stepped out of the car, shoving his hands into his pockets. He closed the door with a foot and headed up the walkway to the lobby doors.

He had been looking forward to coming here all day. Away from work and dealing with people. Just spend the rest of the night with his favorite person.

Stopped in front of her door, and knocked twice.

"Come in!" A sweet feminine voice called out from within.

Bud grinned as he opened the door, poking his head into the apartment before stepping inside. The door shut behind him with a small thud.

His heart softened at the sight of her. A thing Bud could very well get used to.

"Hi Buddy." Kimbra approached him, placing her arms around his neck. Pressed her snout against his cheek. "Did you really come all the way here to see me?"

He leaned into the kiss with a smile. "Of course I did."

She pulled away from him, out of his arms. Took his hand and led the man into the small kitchen. "Do you want coffee or anything? Water? Lemonade?"

"No, I'm fine. But thank you."

They stopped in front of the table, Kimbra completely forgetting about the wrapped gift behind her. She kept her hand in his, swinging it lightly. Hoping that the smile on her face wasn't too obvious.

"Came to ask where do you want to go for Valentine's Day, or should I just surprise you?" Bud asked, bringing a hand up to run through Kimbra's hair.

That made her roll her blue eyes. "Valentine's Day is a capitalist construct that pressures you into buying gifts for someone just to prove your love. Of course, you're into that."

"So that's a no on dinner?"

"It's a yes," said the scientist matter-of-factly. "Just know that I morally object to companies pressuring couples to buy each other materialistic things."

His dark eyes had already spotted the wrapped box on the table. "Uh huh, what's that behind your back then?" Leaned over to get a better look at it.

Kimbra scooted over, blocking the view of the box with her body. "Nothing!" Tried to cover his eyes with both of her hands. Not that it'd work well considering their difference in height.

But he held her hands, keeping them away from his face. His smile grew. "You bought me something, didn't you?"

She opened her mouth to argue, but looked away. "Shut up."

"No, I think it's sweet that you'd go against your own views for me."

Her eyes went back up to his. There was that smile again. "Remember that next time you get mad at me for my environmental nonsense." She playfully tugged at the lapels of his brown suit coat with a newly freed hand.

The way she looked at him made his heart flutter.

"I'll try." Bud said as he took her hands in his once again, and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

Kimbra glanced behind her boyfriend, seeing that he hadn't brought anything with him. She looked up at him with a small pout.

Which made him laugh. "Your gift is in the car. I was afraid your utter hatred for capitalist holidays would make you throw it at me."

That made her perk up. "You got me something? You didn't have to do that."

"Of course I did." Bud pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Come on, you can open it in the car on the way to dinner."

Kimbra grabbed the box behind her, shoving it into the CEO's hands. "Give me a second to get ready, you can open it now to occupy yourself."

He watched her disappear down the hall and into her bedroom. Returned his focus to the medium sized box in his hands. She had wrapped it in leftover Christmas wrapping paper. Red paper with sparkling green trees. Gently shook it to his ear. It didn't make much of a noise.

With a shrug, Bud began to rip off the paper with ease. A pair of footsteps approached him some minutes later, and he looked up with a smile.

"Ready to go?"

After dinner, Bud pulled his coat tighter against the evening chill. The hound sometimes wished he had a double coat like Kimbra. His short fur wasn't made for this weather. Winter had been an utter nightmare. And now he really began to regret parking so far from the restaurant. The discomfort must have shown on his face, as Kimbra kept glancing over at him every few minutes.

"Want me to drive?" She finally asked, not being bothered by the chill in the slightest. She actually seemed to be enjoying it.

A sharp sound– some kind of snort. "No, you're a terrible driver."

"Me? A terrible driver?" Kimbra's surprise sounded painfully playacted, even to her own ears. "Maybe you're just an overly cautious driver."

"The last time you drove, you almost hit that cop."

"He was jaywalking."

"No, he wasn't. He literally wrote you a ticket."

"You can't trust the system, Bud."

"Uh huh," playfully rolled his eyes, amused. "Anyway, so… I was thinking…"

"You do that?"

"Yes, occasionally I do. But I was thinking… I have a little get-together I'm going to tomorrow with my friends."

"And…?"

A pause.

"I was wondering if you wanted to come meet them."

She almost stopped walking entirely. Caught off guard. "Your friends? You want me to meet your friends?"

"Well, yeah. You'll have to eventually. Might as well tear off the band-aid now and get it over with…" his voice trailed off nervously. Afraid this had been a mistake. That it had been too soon and too far a step to take. He did that sometimes. Make a fool of himself.

"Don't have much faith in me?"

Another snort. "More like I don't have much faith in my friends."

Kimbra leaned forward, quirking an eyebrow as she studied her boyfriend. "What's wrong with them? Are they like… hit-men for a drug cartel or something terrible like that?"

Bud wanted to say 'well that's pretty close actually,' but he stopped himself. Don't lie to her, but don't tell the complete truth either.

"No they're just… not the best people. To put it lightly."

Because they're murders, liars, cheats—

"Sounds like you could use better friends."

That much had been true. Bud Bernard Flud would be better off if he had friends with decent morals. But at the same time, he wanted to take what he could get. Making friends had never been his strong suit. The ones he did manage to make never stuck around.

Mostly due to his father, Harrison. A childhood tragedy when no kid wanted to be your friend because of your own parents.

"I dunno, Buddy. I like you and all, but your parents are kind of mean."

"W-we can just stay in my room! I have a whole new set of baseball cards my Uncle gave me. And we could play a game together. They won't bother us, and we can make popcorn and have a fun time hanging out."

"I just… don't like your house, Bud. S'all," the poodle shrugged, pushing up his glasses and looking at his dirty cleats. "I like you though… maybe you can come over sometime, right?"

"My dad doesn't let me go to my friend's houses if they're not Catholic." Bud's answer was point-blank, and his friend's face drooped.

"I'm Jewish, though. Isn't that close enough?"

"I bet so! And we could always meet at the park, right?" Bud's tail wagged as he smiled.

"Uh… maybe." He was distracted by something— now. A group of friends yelled at him, and the poodle let out an 'um' before pushing past Bud to run to his other friends.

"But…" Bud reached out a hand, flinching in surprise as a cold raindrop hit it. He looked up at the dark sky, the empty (except for him) side of the field enveloped in shadow while his so-called 'friends' ran off to play. Because they didn't have to worry. Didn't have to grow up like he already had. They could continue to live.

The memory hit him so quickly and with such force, Bud's face went slack, the color draining slowly from his fur all except for his cheeks. He could still feel the tag itching his back, smell the kicked up dirt caked to his cleats and the hint of rain on the air.

He wondered how long those memories would come back to haunt him. If they'd terrorize him so much that it would run Kimbra off.

Hopefully, it wouldn't come to that, though.

The following day, Kimbra didn't realize where they were. The half an hour drive from GraStone Village took her to a part of the outskirts she had never been to. A nicer part. A wealthier high-class looking end. Each mansion they passed proved to be more grand than the last one.

Oh, I definitely do not belong here.

Kimbra broke the peaceful silence, desperate for some form of communication to ease her startled nerves. "I'm still surprised you want me to meet your friends."

Well… I already met Samuel and Andy months ago. So that's two down, at least.

Bud glanced over at her. "You're my girlfriend, of course I want you to meet them."

She shifted uncomfortably in the passenger seat. "Aren't you worried whether they'll like me or not?"

"Not really, I'm sure they will."

Kimbra very much doubted that. What they'd do is pretend to like her. Gush over how pretty and sweet she seems to Bud in front of her. And once she went home, they hound Bud to dump her and to find someone better. Someone prettier. More sociable. Nicer.

But there's only one way to find out.

Bud pulled the car into a long road, easing through two tall black metal gates. They passed rows of trees, which offered some privacy from nosy neighbors during the spring and summer. Soon enough, a large mansion came into view. In the middle of the circular drive, sat an enormous two-tier stone fountain.

Kimbra felt her stomach turn as Bud parked the car and shut it off. His words hadn't helped her anxiety. What if she screwed this up and they hate her? It plagued her mind as the two stepped out of the vehicle.

The Victorian-esque estate loomed over Bud as he straightened his jacket out, the walk to the porch short but intimidating. Grandiose, bush sculptures lined the sidewalk that led up to the doorway. The hound could hear a Dean Martin record drifting through the wind from an open window.

He had spent a lot of time here over the years upon meeting Samuel. But for some reason, this visit made him feel uneasy.

You shouldn't have taken her to Samuel's, it's a bad idea, Flud.

The two men had known each other for a very long time. Always been there for one another through good times and bad. They had crossed paths during a conference when Bud was at his lowest. Samuel sponsored Flud Water during those early days, helping Bud tremendously. He owed him everything.

But Samuel never asked for anything in return for the favor. Odd considering the mafia thrived on scamming people into owing them.

As the couple reached the porch, Bud reached out, taking Kimbra by the arm. He halted abruptly, just a few feet from the door.

Then, spoke softly to her. "Okay, I need to give you a rundown on Samuel before we get in there."

More like warn you about him. But Bud didn't say that. Not out loud, at least.

Her eyebrows raised. "I'm not going to embarrass you in front of your friend."

"Best friend," he corrected her. "First off, if he flirts with you, ignore it."

"Isn't he married?"

"Yes, but Sammy is basically…"

"A whore." It came out of her mouth faster than she would have liked.

"Now I wouldn't say that." Bud tutted under his breath. Just loud enough for her to hear.

"A slut."

"Now Kimbra, c'mon."

"A cheater."

"You're bein' pretty harsh."

No, I'm being honest.

"It's what he is!"

"Their marriage was arranged so cut him some slack," he waved his hand around, "His wife, Ardwin, can't stand him anyway. But just a heads-up so you aren't alarmed."

That still doesn't change the fact that Samuel seems to be the world's shittiest husband ever .

Kimbra chewed on her lower lip, deep in concentration. "He's still a whore."

"Fine, yes, he's a whore."

"Anything else I should know about him?"

"He owns the Aballava Casino."

That explains the expensive mansion.

"Oh, so he's that kind of rich."

"Yeah."

"Maybe I'm dating the wrong best friend."

Bud's nose scrunched up in disdain. "Don't you even joke about that."

"It's funny."

It was actually very funny. Hilarious even.

He made a disbelieving face. "I can't see you ever being a married man's mistress anyway. You'd get too attached."

"I would be a gorgeous mistress."

"Uh huh."

"And then I'd try to get him to leave his wife for me," Kimbra didn't know why she started dragging this out. "He says no. I'm devastated. I murder him in a fit of rage and despair."

The instant improv threw Bud off guard. "What the hell?"

"I'd hire a noir detective to investigate his death."

"Where are you even going with this?" Despite his confusion, Bud waited patiently for her to continue. Curious of how the story would end.

"I frame the wife," Kimbra kept going. "And then inherit his entire fortune, then I find another wealthy man and start all over again."

"That entire story was a roller-coaster."

"I wished my dad hadn't retired. He could have started another series based on that."

It finally clicked in that brain of his. "Oh, that's where you get your imagination from! Your dad!"

"Huh, I guess you're right."

"How did you inherit the guy's fortune if you're just the mistress?"

"I wooed him into putting me in the will during one passionate night."

"Ya know, I'm starting to worry about this thing between us." Bud said it in a quiet, unassuming tone, clearly trying to make a joke.

"Don't worry," She pecked a kiss on his cheek. "You're not that rich for me to be willing to risk it all."

"That's very reassuring." A soft snort left the hound's mouth as he knocked sharply upon the large wooden door.

Samuel DeTelli, like his dear friend Bud, was a businessman. Son of Italian immigrants, the man proudly celebrated his heritage. Spoke fairly often of his love for Italy and the culture. He spoke loudly and dramatically. Anyone on the neighborhood block would be able to hear him. He charmed women and their husbands. Came off friendly and warm to those who met him. Someone you'd be comfortable being neighbors with.

But that wasn't the truth. Not all of it, anyway.

What Kimbra and the rest of St. Canard didn't know was that the DeTelli family was made up of mobsters. Samuel himself being the ringmaster behind it all. He had men executed for crossing him. Sometimes over the smallest things (like that one valet who left a small scuff on his car). They were dangerous, Samuel was dangerous.

Surely, this couldn't end well.

The couple waited a few moments after knocking, but there was seemingly no response. So Bud lifted his knuckle to rap on the door once more, a little harsher this time. Gave his girlfriend a small smile of reassurance.

The door finally opened, and two twin skunks in similar black suits stepped out. The couple moved aside, out of the way, to let them pass. One in a red tie walked on down the walkway, but the other lingered behind.

"Ey! Johnny! Bring the car round front!" The twin with the white tie called out. "We got things to do! Uncle Sammy told me and Marty to be outta here by lunch!"

He looked to be in his early twenties. Well groomed. Gray-blue eyes shone in the sunlight, eager to go about his day.

For some reason, he looked at her.

"Scuse' me babe," the young man offered Kimbra a pleasant smile. "Duty calls."

However, she didn't interest the skunk enough for him to linger. He quickly went down the steps after his twin.

They watched as the young men disappeared into one of the parked cars off to the side.

Without being able to resist, Kimbra leaned over to Bud. "He called me babe."

"I heard. He calls everyone that."

"He's called you babe before?" She teased.

"I didn't mean literally everyone." Bud looked so horrified by the assumption, she had to laugh.

"So, you know him?"

"Yeah," He gestured at the black car pulling out of the long driveway. "That was Jude. The other, his twin, is Martin. They're Samuel's nephews. His older sister's boys. Samuel graciously offered them jobs working for him, so they're around all the time."

"Where's their mother?"

"She moved back to Italy. Visits sometimes, but she wanted to be back with her and Sam's mother. He said family is really important to them."

A beat later, and they were greeted by a tall raccoon.

"Buddy! Buon giorno! Glad you could make it! Been wonderin' where your sorry ass was!"

The man in front of them was stouter and a little taller than Bud. Somewhat around the same age, if not a little older. White stripes ran through his coal-black hair. Instead of the pinstripe suit Kimbra saw him in last, this time he wore black pants and a white button down shirt. Sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He had an elegant aura of someone used to wealth and comfort. Like something out of a Hollywood movie. His presence changed every room he entered.

"Come in, come in! It's rude of me to keep ya standin' out here." He smiled as they entered the foyer. A mixture of cedar and jasmine rolled off the man each time he moved. There was something about his smile. Something salacious and fake. It made Kimbra uneasy.

The inside of the mansion was luxurious. Countless hallways led into countless rooms. Dark hardwood floors. Detailed paintings of landscapes and the European countryside decorated the Persian red colored walls. A variety of furniture sat in the drawing room. A large burgundy Victorian couch, several chairs around it that matched. Placed in the middle of the room, a large elaborately decorated rug.

Numerous potted plants lined the corners of the room (some being huge ferns). Lamps with decorated glass coverings sat on end tables by the couch.

The whole room was a big show of wealth and taste.

Bud shrugged off his jacket, folding it over his arm. Followed Samuel to the drawing room with Kimbra by his side.

"Kimbra, right?" Samuel turned his attention to her once they reached the room. Using that infamous charm of his. "We met at that uh… city conference a while back, didn't we?"

"Yes, you were there with a friend. I'm surprised you remember."

"A DeTelli never forgets a pretty face. How did Buddy talk you into dating his pathetic ass anyway?"

"He pays me." Kimbra couldn't resist playing it up a little.

A huff blew out of Bud's mouth as he sat down on the couch, crossing his arms. "Kimbra, I do not."

"I'm like an escort, basically." She didn't even miss a beat.

"Kimbra." He rubbed his face with both hands and groaned.

Was this really the time to press his buttons? Or was she this bad at holding a conversation?

"Hey Buddy, you oughta keep this one around. She's got a better sense of humor than you!" Samuel laughed. It was even worse than his smile.

His gaze on Kimbra didn't linger. He hadn't looked all that interested in her.

Which Kimbra was grateful for.

"Ardwin! Our guests are here!" Samuel called up a grand staircase as he looked at his watch for the tenth time. He made a mental note to talk to his wife about being late.

He knew the woman didn't want to come down. Didn't even like his friends or socializing. The least she could do was be polite and introduce herself. Was that so hard? You'd think, after everything he's done for her, that she'd be a little more grateful.

A white possum in a navy-blue dress made her way down the staircase. The woman was dressed elegantly, but there was a dullness to her that struck Kimbra immediately. Something melancholy hung around the possum. A deep sadness that radiated from her. Above all, she just looked fed up and exhausted.

Samuel held out a hand to his wife, helping her down the last step. If Kimbra hadn't known any better, she would have thought the action was loving.

He led her back to Bud and Kimbra, introducing her. "My wife, Ardwin."

Ardwin didn't seem all that interested in being here. "Pleasure." Didn't offer a hand to shake or anything.

How rude.

"Ardwin, be a doll and get the scotch out for our guests." Samuel turned to look at his wife. Trying to get her out of the way.

Ardwin began to argue against it, but stopped, not wanting to start her husband on one of his trademark tangents. She forced a smile, parting from the man's side to grab a few glasses and an unopened bottle of scotch.

"Moody little thing," When she had said nothing, Samuel rolled his eyes. "Can't ever get her to smile."

Huh, I wonder why. Kimbra had to restrain herself from rolling her own eyes. She took a seat beside Bud, trying to ground herself.

There was something sinister in the air, she knew that much.

From the kitchen, strode in Ardwin. Three glasses and a bottle in hand. The bottom of her dress rustled with every movement. She sat the glasses down on the small end table beside the couch. Held out the bottle to her husband.

"Thank you, darling." Samuel took the bottle from his wife. The affection came off phony and for show.

She only made a noise of acknowledgment, parting from the three once more. Disappeared through glass doors that led outside to a patio. As if she didn't even want to be in the same room as the man she supposedly devoted her life to.

Opening the bottle, Samuel poured the golden liquid into three glasses. Gave one to each of his guests before taking his own.

Oh, I bet this will be disgusting.

Kimbra brought the glass to her mouth, managing to look like she didn't hate it. She had no idea what kind of scotch the liquid was, but it didn't suit her taste. Bud lifted his own glass and drained it. Hoping the bit of alcohol would help him get through this in one piece.

Then, there was a brisk knock at the door.

Samuel set his glass down, politely pardoning himself. "Oh! I think there's another one of our guests. Excuse me for a second."

Kimbra and Bud exchanged a glance, saying nothing. She assumed Bud knew who else was coming. They were his friends, after all.

"Ray, my man!" Samuel welcomed another couple into his home. "You're on time for once!"

A tall brown boar, dressed formally, rolled his eyes. His dark brown hair had been neatly swept back. Over a dark gray vest, he wore a light gray blazer. Holding on to his arm was a woman, close to his height.

"Don't patronize me."

"Awe, Ray, would I ever do such a thing to my pal?"

"Possibly." He forced the word from his mouth, his voice too dry, too emotionless.

The two stepped inside the mansion, being led into the drawing room by Samuel. Kimbra had wanted to ask Bud what that was all about, but decided not to say anything.

"And I see you brought your lovely wife, Lynette."

The woman clung to Ray's side had a tall stature. She seemed like someone who could handle just about anything. A professional. She was a deer of some sort with… fangs?

Kimbra's brain went through her knowledge of the mammals. She knew of a few deer that possessed such a unique trait. Chinese water deer. Siberian musk deer. Certain whitetail deer could also bear fangs, but much smaller than Lynette's. So she had to be either a water deer, or a musk deer.

Her coat held a dark brown hue, while water deer were mainly golden brown in color.

Siberian musk deer she is then.

Then it hit her. The man standing in the same room as her was Ray Eiberg. Married to Lynette. He was their state senator.

Kimbra grasped Bud's arm, and harshly whispered into his ear. "You didn't tell me you were friends with Ray Eilberg, the senator!" She made sure that no one would hear her but Bud.

And then she realized no one had even paid her any mind.

"You didn't ask!" He whispered back, confused.

"How would I know I should ask something like that?"

"I dunno, you could have said, 'oh wow Buddy you're so hot and smart, do you know any important people?' Like that."

She couldn't help the breath she let out at that. "You're ridiculous."

"But you love me."

"I do." She snuck one last glance in the senator's direction, and then away before he could catch it.

Before Samuel could introduce them, another knock at the door echoed through the house. Without excusing himself, he went off to answer it. Only being gone for several minutes before leading two lions into the room. The taller one, a male, had short red hair streaked with hints of gray. Dressed in a gray suit and red tie, with a brown coat over it. Beside him stood a female, many years younger than the man. Her red hair flowed down her shoulders. A sweet smile stuck on her face.

"Before I was so rudely interrupted," Samuel shot the male lion a look. "This is Ray and his wife Lynette. This is Bud's girlfriend. Kimbra."

"Pleasure," Lynette spoke for the both of them. Seeming more social of the two.

"And this dumb-ass is Silas and his darling wife, Marissa."

"The dumb-ass hasn't even arrived yet." Silas jabbed the raccoon in the ribs with a finger. "He probably forgot your address and got lost on the way."

"We aren't that lucky, you know."

Bud almost let out a laugh at that.

"Lynette! I didn't know you were coming!" Marissa's voice was sweet, almost sickeningly so.

Oh great, the wives are friends. You're about to stick out like a sore thumb.

The women quickly moved to each other's side, eagerly chatting away. Like old friends.

Kimbra couldn't help but watch them with envy. It reminded her of how alone she had always been. Sure, she had Trisha, but it hadn't been the same since the passing of their mutual friend, Penelope. It had been several years since her sudden death. Penelope passed away from a car accident late one night. It was stormy, and she wasn't really known to be the best driver. The friend group drifted apart after that.

And they didn't really talk about Penelope anymore.

Ray moved to stand beside the tall lion, just to get out of everyone's way. He seemed unpleased at having to do so.

"What's he so grumpy about?" Silas jabbed his thumb in the senator's direction, addressing the room.

"I'm not grumpy." Ray replied, with a bit of an edge to his overly patient tone.

"You are. You're grumpy. I can't remember the last time I saw you smile."

"That time you smacked your face into those glass doors made me smile." Ray still didn't crack a smile.

"Oh, harsh. Thriving off my misfortune and pain. You definitely are a politician."

A playful, loud knock on the door left Samuel's eyes rolling exasperatedly. He grunted as he shot a dirty look towards Ray, who in turn went to open the door. In came a gray hyena, who smiled as if his blood was made of pure sunlight.

"Good morning, guys!" Came a cheerful greeting, and Kimbra slid Bud a side-eye as he grumbled beneath his breath.

At the front door, stood Andy. A short hyena (barely Kimbra's height) with dark hair and a wide smile. His brown eyes twinkled from excitement. For what, Kimbra wasn't sure. But Bud knew. He knew that the man actually liked being around the rest of the businessmen. That he had no other friends. He worked as St. Canard's Public Works director. A position he was forced into by Samuel. Mostly for the group's own interest.

Andy Styker wasn't like the other men there. He didn't have a mean bone in his body. The image of a sweet man. And yet, he remained alone. Samuel said a woman wouldn't go within five feet of the hyena. But Bud knew otherwise. That mainly Samuel himself was at fault for the man's loneliness. Insulted his interests. Tried to make him into something he's not.

They all brushed it off as tough love.

The public works director held up a smashed donut box. "Oh, it's so great to see you all again! I actually ran to Dunkin before I got here because I was going to bring donuts, and then I fell, coming out of the shop! But I saved a few!"

"What, did you trip over ya own two feet again?" Samuel snided.

But Andy didn't look taken aback at all. "No… okay, yes, I did."

Kimbra smiled to herself, secretly admiring how innocent he was. He didn't belong here, just like her. Part of her thought maybe he was flushing a little whenever his eyes met Samuel's.

Huh. Odd.

"You might be wondering why my jacket is covered in jam," The hyena gestured down at his jam-covered jacket.

Literally, not a soul had.

Samuel snorted. "Not really."

Bud couldn't say what he wanted to say. Not after catching the side-eye that his girlfriend had given him earlier. He knew she would be protective of Andy, saying he's being too harsh towards the man.

Which, to be fair, wasn't a lie.

Out of the corner of Marissa's eye, she spotted long white hair on the patio. A figure sitting in one of the several lounge chairs.

With a small gasp, she grabbed onto the deer's arm. Practically trying to drag the woman out the door. "Oh Lynn! Let's go out on the patio! I think Ardwin needs company."

"Mari, I'm sure she wants to sulk in peace."

"No she doesn't." Pulled harder. "Please? I'm sure she misses us. I miss her."

"Doubt it."

Ray caught a glance from Silas, one that spoke more than any sentence could. The senator mouthed out 'please' to his wife. Lynette knew what that meant, they had business to discuss. Gruesome business. Usually, they didn't mind the wives being present. The three knew what their husbands did behind closed doors. They kept their mouths shut and held an innocent appearance that was their husbands' saving grace in the public eye.

But Kimbra was new. Just a girlfriend. They didn't know how long she would be with Bud, so she wasn't to be trusted.

"Fine," the deer muttered out, shooting her husband a 'you owe me' look before stepping out onto the patio.

Marissa gleefully clapped her hands, following close behind.

"Have a good one ladies!" Silas called out to the three women as they went out to the patio. Then at Kimbra. "I'm sure you'd be awfully bored listening to us. Why don't you go with them?"

"Yeah, doll, why don't you go play with the rest of the girls." Samuel flicked his hand in dismissal. Earning him a dirty look from the Samoyed.

He must be joking.

Kimbra stood up and complied, not wanting to cause a scene and embarrass Bud in front of his friends. She certainly didn't want to draw attention to herself. She'd only get in the way. Be a distraction. Maybe going off with the girls had been the best idea for her.

Her fingernails dug deep into her palms as she headed for the doors that led to the outside patio.

Silas and Ray were standing near the doors, merely listening in on the conversation.

The two men barely acknowledged her as she slid by, neither looking directly at her. Not that Kimbra found offense to that. She'd rather be invisible to the others. A nobody. A face they wouldn't remember. Life was just more comfortable for her that way. You're less of an embarrassment when no one remembers you.

Bud watched her go and felt a twinge of envy (ignoring how Andy took the seat she had occupied moments earlier). He would much rather listen to the prattle of women and their problems than whatever Samuel had to say. They'd probably talk about their hair or which actor they'd leave their partner for. Far off better than the gruesome stories and jobs that his best friend had to tell.

And by all rights it should have been boring. Business related conversations between them should have been boring. Yet they never were.

Unfortunately.

Knock, knock.

Samuel perked up at the sound of more knocking from the front door. He excused himself to go answer it.

Unable to stifle his curiosity, Bud turned his head, leaning over, so he could see the doorway. He watched as Samuel opened the door, revealing a tall green eel standing there. His face held an irritable expression, as if it never changed. He dressed formally, a medium gray suit with a dim colored blue tie.

Seaweed green colored fins ran down his head. Some looked torn, covered with a few holes. The man stuck out in a room full of mammals.

Chet Ripley. Owner of the St. Canard Aquarium.

The same killjoy as usual.

Bud wondered what it would take to get him to soften up. A lot, probably. Maybe he gets a kick out of making orphans cry.

"Ripley! Great to have you here!" The mobster warmly greeted with open arms.

"Wish I could say the same." Ripley said dryly, almost below his breath. He brushed nonexistent dust off his suit jacket. Uninterested in being here.

"Here, come into the drawing room with the rest of the boys. I'm sure they'd be ecstatic to see you." Samuel began to usher the eel into the large room. As if the other man were a child.

Ripley hesitated for a moment, but then he did, uncharacteristically obedient.

He followed the raccoon into the room, becoming even more displeased that his actually acquaintance had guests. He hadn't expected a social event. Watched as Samuel picked up a half empty glass of scotch from the end table.

The corner of his mouth twitched. Minimally. "I thought you had business you wanted to discuss." His tone was clipped, his expression tenser than usual.

A shot of apprehension ran through the hound's spine. What business? But Bud didn't really want to know. Especially not when it involved Chet Ripley, of all people.

"I do! Just killing two birds with one stone. You never hang out with us, Chet. Breakin' my heart over here." The Italian swirled his drink in one hand. Gave his 'friend' a look of pity.

The eel glared at him. Narrowed his eyes. "I didn't come to socialize. I'm not one of your buddies. And don't call me that."

"You're one of my buddies, Ripley!" Andy spoke up with a little laugh.

Ripley shot the hyena a look, as if to say, 'you better shut the hell up, or I'll make you'. Then he turned his attention to the large raccoon. "I have an actual business to run, you know."

Samuel snorted. "What? You gotta go back and play with the fishies?"

"No. I don't play with the fishies–the fishes." He said it like a fact, correcting himself at the end in an irritated tone.

Andy, as always, interrupted. Leaned towards Samuel from where he was seated. "I really like the fish, Samuel."

"I know Andy."

"We should visit the aquarium sometime."

Samuel pressed the bridge of his nose with two fingers. Willing himself to not yell at the hyena in front of guests. "Andy?"

"Yeah, Sammy?"

"Shut up."

How many times had he heard that in his life? To shut up? Be a good boy, Andy, and don't say a goddamn word. Don't embarrass me. Don't say anything stupid. Just shut up.

And so, as always, Andy Styker did as he was told.

"Okay, Sammy."

The mob boss's eyes held Ripley's over the edge of his glass. "And besides, you got people over there to run things. Dunno why you gotta be there at all times of the day."

Something twisted in Ripley's expression.

"Maybe I'm trying to keep things–" he paused, glancing out at the patio to make sure the women couldn't hear him. And then hissed. "Maybe I'm trying to cover up all your bullshit. Like that gentleman last month you killed?"

Samuel pondered for a moment. "The lawyer?"

"Yes, the lawyer. The one you had shot and dumped into my shark tank."

"Your sharks were hungry. Not my fault you don't feed the poor things."

Ripley had long known Samuel DeTelli to be a manipulative bastard. Sweet-talked him into letting the mob use the shark tank to get rid of their recently deceased problems. A decision that he had begun to regret over the last three years. Especially when the cops started sniffing around his office.

"They're taken care of by my staff, so cut the crap. I can't afford to have cops sniffing around the place if you or one of your lapdogs screw up."

Samuel let out the fakest gasp he could muster. "Andy, he just called you a lapdog. You gonna take that?"

"I'm a pacifist, Sammy. You know that."

"Coward."

The hyena let out a short laugh and turned away from him, shamefully. He shouldn't have told him that. There was nothing he could do about it now except take Samuel's insults lightly. He should have known better by now.

Bud swallowed once, hoping to get rid of the lump in his throat. "Y-you killed a lawyer?" He said, barely loud enough to hear. His conscience taunted him loudly.

He could only imagine what his face looked like. Petrified. Eager to leave and escape this conversation. Regretful of having come at all.

Samuel made it as if to consider the question deeply. "Yeah, yeah, I think I did kill a lawyer. Richardson or something."

At that moment, Bud Flud almost just left. He did not want to hear about the countless lives lost due to the men around him. Even a root canal without anesthesia sounded better than this little piece of hell. It shouldn't be too hard to sneak out the door. Grab Kimbra from the patio and hurry to the car, out of there. Of course, he wouldn't even be able to get that far. Andy would have said something if Bud left the room.

And speak of the devil.

Andy nodded, still dragging out the topic at hand. "Yep! Well, actually … Silas killed him–"

"Right between the eyes!" The lion slapped his knee with an amused laugh. "You should have seen the look on Andy's face when we said he had to stuff the guy in the trunk!" He made no effort to lower his voice.

As if it were nothing.

Which caused a flash of panic to rise in Bud. What could he say to that?

Silas continued with the gruesome stories. "Or the time we shoved that nosy private detective in the back of Bud's car and didn't tell him about it until we were on the interstate?"

And then, Samuel joined in. Just as twistedly amused. "And then he had to drive to that butcher shop so Jude and Martin could dismember him. Into tiny bits!"

Bud's eyes widened slightly, but he remained composed. The surrounding men had never made a habit of considering the aftermath. How hard it was to clean blood out of the trunk. It was horrible. The smell was perhaps the worst of it.

It's why Bud kept a box of black trash bags in his trunk. As a precaution. Getting the rancid smell out of his car had been hard enough the first time. He wouldn't make that mistake again.

The water bottle salesman felt his face flush. His stomach became overwhelmed with a wave of nausea. No, no no. Not now. He'd probably rather be anywhere else but here right now. Just the thought of it all made him want to hurl.

"Can we stop talking about this?"

"It's not like I'm gonna go into detail about how that one corpse exploded."

"In ninety degree heat!" Andy cut in. "And some got in Silas's mouth!"

Bud chose that moment to jump in and stop the uncomfortable conversation in its tracks. "Oh uh, hey Ripley? Why don't you come golfing with us at the country club? You never come around there anymore."

"Because I don't play golf, Flud." The expression on the eel's face was set, mouth in a firm line. "I only went because Samuel said it was the only appropriate place to discuss business."

"And it was! It's where everyone does business nowadays."

"I don't." Ripley's voice was getting gradually louder and more agitated. "Golf is complete nonsense. You hit a ball with a metal club. Trying to get it into some random hole. It's an unproductive waste of time."

Samuel went silent (something new for him), and looked over at Bud with a smile.

"Remember when Silas killed that one guy with a golf club?"

Oh, here we go again. Bud hated how unfeeling and callous his best friend sounded. How unfeeling and callous his best friend was.

Silas pondered this for a moment, trying to remember which guy his friend was referring to. There'd been a lot of them over the years. "The informant? The one who was about to snitch to the feds?"

"Yeah, him. He was an insufferable son of a bitch."

The hyena shoved his hands into his pockets as he rocked a bit on his heels. He looked from Samuel over to Silas. "You never replaced my club, Silas. That was my favorite one too."

Andy, you can't even play golf. They all end up in the lake or the bushes. You're better off serving as Samuel's caddy.

"Andy, you can't hit a golf club to save your life. Don't know why the hell you even bother trying to play." Silas said, apparently thinking the same thing.

"I'm trying to learn. I don't get as many balls in the lake anymore."

"Mhm, true. I think that'd be a pretty good place to dump a body, though."

"A lake?"

"Yeah. Just tie a cinder block to the foot. They won't float up. It's brilliant."

With those words, the reactions were significantly different. Bud flinched in disgust, along with Andy. Samuel seemed impressed that his friend came up with such an idea on his own. Ripley just looked annoyed, crossing his arms.

He let out a depressed sigh at Samuel's stories and Silas's ideas. "You're all so dreadfully morbid." At least he had the grace to look sheepish.

Samuel scoffed, taking a sip of his scotch. "Hey, you ain't all sunshine and rainbows yourself. You offed one of your tour guides last month when you found out they were about to sell you out to that detective."

"Least I'm much more dignified about it." The eel sneered, not bothering to hide his annoyance.

"What's so dignified about using a big fishbowl as a front for your–" Samuel stared at him, thoughtfully. "Shady business you got going on."

If he fluttered his lashes at Ripley, it was only because he couldn't resist.

"It was the quickest thing I could get a building permit for." He started tapping his right foot on the floor in agitation. Eager to leave.

"You don't even like fish."

"I'm leaving, you're all getting on my nerves."

"No, no, we do actually have business to discuss. Take a seat."

And so, Ripley did. Took a seat right across from the raccoon in a chair. "This better be important."

What he wanted to do was tell DeTelli to fuck off. Leave and not bother with whatever scheme the raccoon came up with this time. Go back to his office and shuffle through paperwork, or go home. Anywhere else but here. Good people didn't end up here. And Ripley didn't like to be reminded that he wasn't one.

But Samuel had other plans, and he wanted to make sure it all came into fruition.

"Oh trust me, it is."

Kimbra hadn't expected to find herself sitting in a lounge chair, surrounded by three other women, today. She had thought she'd be meeting Bud's friends, not their wives. She didn't know how to hold a conversation to save her life. Much less with women she's never met before.

Not unless they want to hear about quantum mechanics.

A faint breeze rustled the leaves and branches of the nearby trees.

Kimbra wasn't sure, really, what they're going to do. They'd never find anything to talk about.

I should have never come here. I am never going to fit in.

The women had stopped their chatting once Kimbra joined them on the patio. Awkward silence filled the air, until Marissa broke it with a question.

"So, Ardwin… how are things?"

"Terrible." She replied, filling her wine glass to the top. Placed the bottle on the ground beside her chair.

"They can't be that bad."

Ardwin took a large sip of the wine. "I'm married to Samuel flippin' DeTelli, of course they can be that bad." Set the glass down hard on the small end table beside her.

Oh?

Without anyone asking, the elegant possum went on. "He's sleeping with his secretary." Ardwin gave a sigh as she was about to continue her story.

Of course, he is.

But Lynette cut her off with a snort. "Not surprised, we've told you he'll just do it again." The deer kept up that same poised and proper personality from earlier.

"Okay, okay, I get it. I'm stupid for hoping he'd change." She put a hand over her face, as if she had a headache. "I thought maybe he'd stop after Harlie. Or Jenny–"

Lynette continued for her. "Or Dani, Pam, Carol, Wendy, Mari–"

"And there was also Chloe, Monica, Jane, Mary, Janet–" Marissa added with a childlike giggle.

Ardwin took a deep breath before shutting down the conversation. "Ladies, I get it. My husband is the definition of a whore. He'll use just about anyone to get off, apparently."

Kimbra didn't have anything to add to the topic at hand (considering she just met these women), so for now, she listened. She would rather not admit it, but she was very much amused with the women's banter. It all felt like something she wasn't meant to hear. Something in a reality show or what you'd overhear in a hair salon.

"Silas would never do such a thing," Marissa rested a hand on her cheek with a dreamy sigh. "He's such a sweetheart."

"Silas? A sweetheart?" Ardwin let out a laugh as she dropped her hand. "He torments poor Andy constantly. He's a brute."

"Well, he's sweet to me and that's all that matters. Sorry, you're stuck in a loveless marriage and don't have what we do."

Ouch.

The possum rolled her eyes. "You two have barely been married for a year. Give it time. Marriage is a complete joke. You're just blinded by the honeymoon, phase."

Lynette shot a sly look in the lioness's direction. "And aren't you like… fourteen years younger than him? You're just a baby. You don't know anything except daddy issues that you make up for by marrying someone who was playing tee ball when you were in diapers."

Fourteen? Geez, what an age gap.

"Well yeah– at least my husband isn't an anti-social grump." Marissa shot back swiftly, cocking her head to one side. "And I'm twenty-three, thank you very much."

The deer gave her an exaggerated eye roll. Clearly she saw no issue with it. "Ray has to spend enough time as it is, talking to people. He has every right to be quiet if he wants. I like that about him."

Now it was Ardwin's turn to comment on her friend's choice in a partner. "Lynn, he barely ever talks. He's like a scarecrow."

The woman didn't bother hiding a wry smile. "At least he doesn't fuck his–"

There was a collective gasp. They certainly weren't expecting that to come out of the woman's mouth.

"I don't even want you to finish that sentence." Ardwin warned her friend. She didn't look angry, just sad. Her expression remained the same except for the tightening of her jaw. The density of the conversation was clearly beginning to affect her.

So far, Kimbra had learned that Ardwin DeTelli was miserable. Her husband slept with anyone who batted her eyelashes his way. She'd much rather drink and mope around in her nightgown than be within seven feet of her own husband. It reminded Kimbra of all the times she drank to numb herself. To make herself forget, so her mind could have a moment of peace. But that was never the answer to a problem.

She hoped Ardwin would figure that out for herself someday. In some ways, the trophy wife reminded Kimbra of herself.

Marissa was the youngest, married to someone fourteen years older. She acted dumb as a rock sometimes, but had an intelligent mind (possibly only playing the idiot role for attention). Whenever she started to say something worthwhile, a flash of fear would strike her eyes. She'd retreat from the thought. Make up an excuse that her powder needed to be retouched. Or change the topic to a new pair of shoes she bought. She worked at one of St. Canard's high-class salons, which was probably why she had made a face at Kimbra's hair.

Lynette, a real estate agent, had the brains of the three. Well-mannered and poised. She had to be, being married to the senator. Had to have a well-kept public image. Someone the papers would write respectably about. At the same time, under that facade, the deer looked… tired. Sad. Unhappy. That her role in her husband's life wasn't enough, and she wanted more. More than being bonus points for his public image.

Kimbra could almost feel sorry for them.

Almost.

The conversation didn't end there.

"You're the one who said Ray looked like a scarecrow." Lynette huffed out, looking down at her nails. "I just think you can do better than Sam. You're too good for him, Ari. He's a sleaze that has you locked up in this place all day. It's just a shame."

Ardwin didn't know how to respond, so she simply didn't reply.

"Well, Samuel is good-looking…" Marissa tapped her chin, leaning forward to peer through the glass doors to catch a glimpse of Samuel. "He's kind of dreamy. Especially with the whole Italian thing he has going on."

"He'd probably nail you if you fluttered your eyelashes and asked." Muttered out Ardwin, refilling her wine glass. Kimbra had lost count at this point of how many times the possum had filled it.

The lioness jerked her head in shock. "No! I'm married!"

"That hasn't stopped him before."

The Siberian musk deer kept tormenting their friend. "Mari, I'm telling Silas you're making eyes at Samuel."

And that made Marissa panic. "Lynn, don't you dare. I wasn't even making eyes at him! I was just saying he's an attractive man. I was trying to defend why Ardwin stays with him."

"I bet Silas will cry when I tell him."

"No, don't. He might get mad or tease me about it. And the latter sounds so much worse!" The redhead threw her head back in despair. But once she caught Kimbra's eyes, she sat up, frowning. "She's smiling, why is she smiling?"

Oh, crap.

Kimbra's smile dropped immediately. Like she was a deer caught in headlights. She had been smiling, sure. Only because the conversation had been entertaining. She didn't actually want to partake in it.

The women paused their debate. Shifted their entire focus onto the new girl.

"So, you're Buddy's new girl, hm?" Ardwin teased, smirking against the rim of her wine glass.

Kimbra stammered for a second, taken aback by the question. "Um… yeah, I am." She answered very timidly, scrunching up her shoulders. Wishing she hadn't come.

Why was it so hard for her to be open with people? She couldn't even answer a basic question without having a rush of anxiety.

"Kimberly, was it?" Marissa asked her, quickly getting over being teased.

"Kimbra." She corrected.

"Oh, well… Kimberly sounded prettier. But that's okay, I guess."

Kimbra didn't say anything to that. She was doing her best to take it gracefully.

What she wanted to say was how she was named after her mother. Lucille Kim Wulfe. How their people named their offspring after a loved one. How the name Kimbra meant 'royal meadow'.

That it was so much more than just a name.

But Kimbra said none of that. Pressed her lips together and fought it as hard as she could. Kept her mouth shut. Behaved.

She thought the conversation would stall after that.

However it didn't as the women chose to discuss Bud's previous partners.

Great. A far less pleasant topic. This was the worst. The absolute worst.

Ardwin seemed to flick through a mental catalog before she said, "remember his last girlfriend? The Afghan hound?"

"Clarissa? The model? Oh, she was lovely." Marissa's sugary voice was getting on Kimbra's nerves. "I had hoped they'd stay together. She was fun. I miss her sometimes."

The Samoyed wasn't sure why it made a painful lump rise in her throat. Nothing personal, she told herself, as much as it hurt. Kimbra, who hadn't realized that she had been holding her breath, exhaled softly, hoping to not draw attention to the fact.

"He's brought other girls here?" The question was out of her mouth before she could stop herself. She felt ridiculous asking it.

Ardwin, who hadn't been expecting that reaction in the slightest, eyed Kimbra with curiosity. She had figured Buddy would have told her. Guess not.

Kimbra's heart began to pound, making her ears ring. No, she wasn't jealous. She didn't think so, anyway.

She wondered if the woman had ever meant anything to him at all.

"Yeah, a few." The pretty lioness answered, now looking into a small compact mirror, reapplying powder to her face for the fifth time. "He's always dated around, I think. I guess he just gets bored with one and moves onto the other."

When was he planning to tell her that then?

Surely, she must have misheard. "You're joking."

And from the look on Mari's face— it was becoming clear that she wasn't.

I genuinely don't believe you.

The Samoyed found herself having trouble with focusing on the rest of the conversation. Would Bud get bored of her? Has he already?

She should let it go. It was all in the past, after all.

Then, Lynette couldn't resist a question. "Isn't Flud dreadfully boring? I think the man only works, sleeps, eats, and occasionally plays golf with our husbands. It has to be dull listening to him talk about water all the time."

"He's not boring."

"Oh, I'm sure he isn't." The other woman replied, voice dripping with sarcastic sweetness.

"Bud isn't! He's very interesting actually. He wears the ugliest, tacky shirts that I've never in my life seen another person wear before. But he likes them. He's fairly fond of Elvis and knows more facts about the man than anyone I know. I could list endless things about Bud that make him interesting so I don't see why–" Kimbra rambled on nervously before she clamped her mouth closed.

You just admitted you found Bud Bernard Flud interesting.

The thought had never actually crossed her mind until now. That she found him interesting. The water bottle salesman. The one that dressed like a stereotypical used car salesman from the 1970s. One that used too much hair gel and cheap, tacky cologne.

And here the women thought he was boring.

They didn't know him, not like she did. All the girls he had brought by, before her, didn't know him like she did. There was a lot that people didn't know about him.

Stop, or you'll end up bitter and alone. Forget about it and try to be friendly.

Thankfully, Mari saved her from further embarrassment. "How did you meet Bud, anyway?"

Suddenly, the patio filled with silence. The women eagerly waited for an answer from the purple haired scientist.

"Oh, um. He sponsored my work project." Short. To the point. Good enough.

Ardwin took it as an opportunity to complain about her husband again. "My parents arranged my marriage with Samuel. I'd kill to have a cute meet and fall in love story like that." There was some sadness in her expression.

"Why don't you try to have one?"

She gave Mari a look that clearly stated: It's not like I have a choice. Changed the topic away from herself. "Didn't you meet Silas at an event or something?"

"I met him at the country club, actually!" Her eyes lit up. "My uncle is a member. We were playing golf at the same time as Samuel and the guys."

"And you just happened to catch Silas's eye?"

"Of course I did, look at me."

Lynette didn't give her the chance to have a minute of self-confidence. "You look like a knockoff Barbie."

"That's so mean! Why can't I just be Barbie?" She pouted, poking her bottom lip out. "You could at least tell Kim how you met Ray. It's only fair."

"I was his realtor."

"Is that really it?"

"Eh, pretty much."

"You two are so dreadfully boring. I think I'd have more fun at a funeral than hanging out with you two."

The deer stuck her tongue out, breaking that professional appearance she had built for herself. "We wouldn't want you hanging out with us anyway."

A tall, cinnamon possum let out a grunt as he hauled two bags of mulch over to an empty flower bed. He tossed them down, and let out a wince as they knocked a bucket over, causing a clatter.

Ardwin turned to watch him as he worked, her eyes tracing the back of his overalls and damp-with-sweat shirt. Marissa and Lynette noticed this, and shot each other amused knowing looks, but said nothing more.

"Who's that?" Kimbra directed the question mostly towards Ardwin, considering she lived here.

"My gardener, Elliott." Ardwin replied, making a small hand gesture to their surroundings. "He takes care of the place."

A small giggle escaped Marissa's mouth. "I'm sure you'd rather him take care of something else–"

"Mari, I will come over there." The words emerged at little over a whisper, considering the man was close by.

"Oh Ardwin, he's coming over hereeee." Marissa continued the taunting in a sing-song fashion. Gleeful to tease her beloved friend.

But Ardwin wasn't listening. The man wasn't even headed that way. He, like any normal person, was focused on his work. At least, it had appeared that way to them.

"Ari, he totally has a thing for you." Marissa whispered, before literally clamping her hand over her mouth.

"No he doesn't, drop it. If Samuel hears that, he'll fire him or–" Ardwin stopped, remembering Kimbra was there. She assumed that Bud hadn't told her about Samuel's line of work.

It wasn't her place to break the news.

But the lioness persisted on quietly, entirely ignoring her insistence. "He's totally smitten with you. It's all over his face."

Ardwin rolled her eyes, picking up her wine glass, and scolded the lioness again for her wild imagination.

Kimbra snuck a quick glance at the gardener, who had definitely been looking at Ardwin. She recognized the look he had. The same one that Bud always gave her when he thought she wasn't looking. That look her father had always given her mother.

It seemed that for once today, Marissa wasn't just pulling her friend's leg.

Is this what my life has come to? Being stuck in the middle of organized crime?

For what felt like the hundredth time in his life, Bud Flud reconsidered his friendship with the sleazy men. He had almost missed the current conversation. Samuel asked Andy to stick around after everyone left to help with something.

Bud glanced around the room, trying to figure out what exactly was going on.

"Sorry, I can't." Andy responded to something Samuel had asked of him. Fidgeted nervously with his hands, afraid.

Which, being told anything but yes, irritated the raccoon. "Why?"

"I need to feed Sir Wimbleton the 3rd, her dinner."

That made the mobster pause. "... the fuckin' cat?"

"Yes."

Samuel seemed to consider that information for a moment. "You named your cat, your female cat, Sir Wimbleton the 3rd?"

"She likes the title."

"It's a cat. The thing ain't even sure what day it is, much less her name."

"She actually does! Sir Wimbleton is fairly intelligent, Sam. Her vet says she has the brain of a five-year-old."

"Andy, you have the brain of a five-year-old." There was a deep vertical line between his eyebrows. "Can I get back to talking about killing that informant? Please? I have Jude and Martin already off to go put a bullet between the guy's eyes."

A loud wince left Bud's mouth as he shifted uncomfortably. "Can we… not discuss this so loudly?" He could feel his heart rate begin to increase.

"Why?"

"It's just–" Bud's eyes drifted out to the patio, where Kimbra sat.

Because I don't want her to know.

"Does she know?" He jerked his head towards Kimbra "About–"

"No, and she's not going to know." He said it as if it had never occurred to him. A lie. Mostly to save face. God forbid he show any weakness to the raccoon.

A constant mistake Andy had made. Showing any sign of weakness to a DeTelli made you vulnerable. They'd use it to their advantage. Take control. You'd no longer have the upper hand.

Samuel scoffed. "What? You scared your girl will run off if she finds out the kind of fellas you hang around with?" He walked restlessly over to the window and looked out onto the lawn. Arms behind his back.

The hound considered that for a long moment. Would it be so bad if he told her?

Bud considered this.

He didn't like the idea.

"Yes."

The group had been doing it for a while. Murdering people who crossed them or got in the way. Covering up said crime and cracking jokes at their victim's expense.

Bud hoped that maybe… just maybe, the men would retire from that line of work. Maybe they would do better and be better people. But after so many years, that showed no signs of happening. So eventually, he stopped hoping, decided against ever saying anything.

Naturally, he had not shared any of this with anyone. Which, all in all, was for the best.

Nightmares were an increasingly common occurrence. That someone would find out. That he'd lose it all. His company. Home. Reputation. What family he still had left. His friends. Kimbra.

But he tolerated it. He tolerated it because they were his friends. That's what friends do, right? Keep your secrets? Help you hide a dead body or two?

And he'd lied about it for years. To family. To friends. To whomever had asked.

The answer didn't seem to satisfy the crime boss. His shoulders tensed up, making Andy wince. He had learned fast that was never a good thing. Because if he seemed fazed, it really must've been bad.

"Are you out of your fuckin' mind?" Samuel's angry voice filled the room. He jerked his head in Bud's direction.

Which took Bud by surprise. "What?" He blinked in confusion, sitting back on the couch. Prepared to have his ear chewed off. He just couldn't be bothered to argue with the bigger man today.

"The girl is gonna find out sooner or later." Samuel moved once more to the window. "All you're gonna do is dig a deep hole for yourself by lyin'. I thought you were smarter than that, Buddy." He shook his head disapprovingly, but his expression had softened.

"I didn't think you'd want her to know anyway." Bud sounded a little put off by Samuel's sharp tone.

"I'd rather her know about how things work around here, than her finding out and bitchin' to the cops." The mob boss turned once again from the window, his face bathed in soft light. "If you plan on keepin' it from her, you better make damn sure she never finds out. I don't need anotha' mess to clean up. Already got Jude and Martin doin' enough these days."

There was an air of caution in Samuel's voice. One that made Bud's fur stand up.

The water bottle salesman's spine stiffened noticeably. "She won't find out."

"You better be right." He sat back down in his chair with a sigh. Crossed a leg over his knee. "It would be a shame to have to off something that pretty." The raccoon said it in a musing tone, almost to himself.

Bud didn't like what his friend was insinuating. Not at all. "Samuel." His hands clenched at his sides.

He should not have brought her here.

"You know, when you're done with her, you can send her my way."

"You're married, what would you want with Kimbra anyway?"

As if it weren't obvious.

"The same thing I do with my secretary, that receptionist at the country club, shall I go on?"

God—had he really done that? All that talk the last few months weren't actually jokes? He actually was still fooling around with other women?

"Sam… it's not really nice to cheat on your wife. What about 'til death do we part' ?" Andy felt confident enough to say what he was thinking (a mistake, really).

Bud felt even more uncomfortable by the conversation. But he didn't acknowledge it. Hoped no one else would either. His eyes darted to Samuel, who was about to say something in reply.

"Andy?"

"Yeah Sammy?"

"Shut up." Samuel said, a trace of warning in his voice.

Andy, as always, compiled. He had the look of a slightly wounded animal when he said, "okay Sammy."

"Besides, I say the same thing about Silas's girl, and he doesn't throw a fit."

Silas froze, the glass from which he had been sipping suspended in mid-air. "You what?" He looked genuinely appalled.

Samuel was already raising his hands defensively. "Nothin'."

"No, I heard what you said. Marissa isn't into Sopranos wannabes."

Bud snorted, knowing that Samuel had never even heard of the show. He probably didn't get the joke behind it.

"Figured she wasn't into assholes either, but she went and married you."

"Oh, that's real rich coming from you. Least I don't cheat on my wife with anyone who suits my fancy."

"Yet."

Lines of pain etched the lion's face. "No, I'm not like you. I actually love Marissa and I don't treat her like shit. You're being a hypocritical ass right now."

Andy dared to interrupt the two with a meek voice. "Shouldn't we get back to business at hand?"

"You're right, my bad." Samuel spat a fake apology. "So? Do you wanna take my offer or not, Chet?"

Oh, if looks could kill.

"Ripley." The aquarium owner said nothing else, but clenched his jaw.

"Okay, fine then, Ripples."

Ripley ran his hands down his face, attempting to retain his patience. He had a short fuse already to begin with. The raccoon didn't make it any easier.

"Samuel, for the last time. It's Ripley. Not Chet. Not Cheddar. Not Ripples. Not Chetina. Just Ripley, okay? Are we on the same page?" There was slight annoyance and anger in his voice, as if he had already repeated the same words before.

"Only if you agree with my offer."

The eel stood, throwing his hands up in utter defeat. "Fine, you can use the aquarium warehouse. No one will give a crap or suspect anything. Just have your boys throw on the uniforms and use the marked boxes to transport your… cargo. No one will be the wiser."

A sleazy smile pulled on the corners of Samuel's mouth. "I'm glad we could come to an agreement."

Ripley grunted something in response that could have been some form of goodbye, but Bud wasn't quite sure. He left as quickly as he had arrived.

Possibly to go kick a few orphans or drown a puppy.

Silas continued his previous taunting of the senator. "Ray, don't you ever talk? You just stood over there like a creep the entire time."

A monotone reply from the boar. "I like to observe."

"That's something a creep would say."

It was.

"I'm not a creep."

"Still something a creep would say."

Also true.

The conversation lasted for some time, before Bud realized it was getting late. Another hour there with the men and one of them would end up killing each other. Maybe. Probably. They didn't seem to mind all that much anyway when he said he had to leave.

Except for Andy, but he didn't count.

Bud grabbed his jacket, and tugged it onto his shoulders. Walked to the glass doors and slid them open, poking his head out. "Hey hon, you ready to go?"

"Oh, yeah." Kimbra replied quickly as she forced a smile onto her face. She bid her goodbyes to the other women, who barely paid any mind to her.

What a disaster of a day.

He put one arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his side fondly. They gave passing goodbyes to everyone before leaving the mansion.

And Kimbra was still stressed from the earlier conversation. The Samoyed took a deep breath, willing herself to push past the harsh thoughts.

"How'd it go out on the patio?" Bud asked, noticing the slight paleness of her face. A light breeze rose and ruffled his black hair, but he didn't seem to mind.

Her mouth suddenly felt dry. "I don't think they like me very much."

They would rather you get back with your ex-girlfriend, apparently. A model. A MODEL. How could she compete with a model?

He caught the disappointment in her voice. Now he was feeling guilty for something he didn't even do.

Something new passed through his face, stark and a little sad.

"Oh, Kimbra, I'm sorry. I wouldn't have brought you if I knew they were going to act that way." It worried Bud to the point where he had a knot in his stomach.

Kimbra shrugged, trying to make the gesture seem casual.

"Buddy, it's fine. I'm just not great at making friends, is all," she said softly, though it was hard to keep the hurt from her voice.

And she wanted to forget it.

Bud's arms wrapped around the Samoyed's waist, pulling her close. She stiffened at the gesture, but said nothing.

"It's their loss then because I think you're wonderful." Bud had pulled back slightly as he spoke, ensuring that she understood his seriousness. He was concerned, eyebrows furrowed together in worry. He didn't like hearing her talk about herself in that way.

The urge to ask her what had happened on the patio rose in him. What she would do is deflect. Continue to brush it off as nothing. And then get mad when he continued to press the matter. So what else could he do, but put it on hold? He just really wished she wouldn't sell herself short so often.

"Kimbra, I mean it. There's absolutely nothing wrong with you. They're just… a little stubborn. It doesn't have anything to do with you." He tried further to reassure his girlfriend.

She had a sense that he really meant it. And that made Kimbra feel even worse.

Bud rarely asked anything of her. He had been so loving and thoughtful in their relationship so far. Pretending everything was fine was the least she could do for her boyfriend's happiness. He shouldn't have to deal with her issues. He'd dealt with enough as is.

So Kimbra bucked up, smiled, and tried to keep her tone reasonably even. "Buddy, really. I'm fine."

I'm fine. She could pretend, even to herself.

And yet, a wave of doubt crashed over her. All of a sudden, the entire situation was just too much.

It wasn't his fault she was so insecure. So hypocritical. Probably dying from a neurological disease. It wasn't his fault.

The feeling of self-hatred and critique began to build up within her. Especially after meeting his friend's wives. Realizing she would never be that. She'd never be what kind of girl Bud was used to dating, either.

Not as beautiful or elegant or worldly.

How could she even be having such thoughts?

Kimbra considered telling Bud about her concern. Her insecurities. Shouldn't she be honest with him? Tell the truth and get it off her chest? Wasn't that what you were supposed to do in a relationship?

There was a good chance that it would end in tears.

So nope. Not a freaking chance.

In her life, Kimbra had made plenty of bad decisions. Skating on thin ice when she was five. Falling through said ice and getting frostbite on her tail (which resulted in it having to be docked to a nub). Stealing vodka from her Uncle Mitchell's liquor cabinet when she was fifteen. Then throwing up in the back of said uncle's car when he drove her home, after he had found her drunk and crying in the local park. Being such a terrible problem to her father and brothers in her teens. Punching that one SCPD officer during her freshman year of college. Dating Ross Spector.

Many many mistakes.

Playing tennis with River Reiff only added onto the growing list.

Kimbra didn't even know how to play tennis. Sure, she skimmed across this one channel a few times when a tennis tournament was playing. You just hit a ball back and forth, it didn't appear that complicated. Sometimes it even looked fun.

But then Kimbra actually read into it, and found out tennis was one of the hardest sports to learn. You needed accurate hand-eye coordination, flexibility, agility, strength, and speed. Finding an effective technique to direct the ball was another challenge. Not to mention how physically demanding the sport could be.

Well, she'd have to bear it, or be out of a job entirely.

That's how found herself standing in a reserved court at the Juniper Golf and Country Club. A high-end country club that held a massive golf course. Somewhere a measly average scientist didn't belong. The wealthy occupied the space there. Their domain. Walking amongst them made Kimbra feel out of place. That their judgmental eyes scanned her, wanting to jump at the opportunity to criticize her.

This had all better be worth the trouble.

The sunlight hitting the court made the area feel warmer than usual. Kimbra wished the sudden warm weather would ease up, it was February, not May. She tightened her ponytail a little, waiting for her opponent to arrive. He said to be there after lunch, and it was already twelve-thirty.

I bet he's primping or something. If he's anything like Aspen, she'll be here all day waiting for him.

River Reiff finally stepped out onto the court, in white shorts and a fairly pretty floral button down shirt. Which was halfway undone. Showing off most of his chest. Two horizontal scars along his chest stood out against the dark fur. Familiar ones that Kimbra had seen before.

A look of genuine surprise crossed her face. "I didn't know you were trans."

River opened his mouth in mock surprise, stopping in front of her from across the net. "Congrats, you figured it out. Want a medal or something?"

"No."

He tugged a little on the net, holding a tennis racket in the other hand. "Or… let me guess, you have an issue with it, and you'll trot over to your boss and beg him to kick me off the project. I know how this goes, Wulfe."

Kimbra could only blink at him at that point. "Why would I have an issue with it?"

"Because I'm used to that sort of reaction?" Tilted his head. Squinted his deep blue eyes. As if he were preparing for something.

It made Kimbra's heart hurt. She wondered how many people have treated him differently after finding out.

"My older brother, Al, is trans, so of course I don't have an issue–"

A quick interruption. "Is he single?" As if that completely erased their current conversation.

Oh, and now River is interested in what she has to say. Figures.

"What?"

"Is your older brother, Al, single?" River spelled it out for her a little slower.

"He's uh… married." Kimbra replied carefully, lying shamelessly through her teeth.

Al wasn't even seeing anyone at the moment. Well, that she was aware of, at least.

The feline's blue eyes narrowed at her. "You're lying."

"I'm not hooking you up with one of my brothers."

That made him pause. "Oh? There's more than one?"

There's four actually, but that's beside the point.

"No. Absolutely not."

A small hum left his mouth, abandoning the topic. "Mhmm, I'll start the match then."

Aside from the basic scoring system, Kimbra was completely unaware of how to play. The first five minutes were spent with River explaining to her on how to hold the racket. Basic rules and how she should swing.

And then the game started.

Gripping his racket, River threw the ball up. Then swung.

The first match went horribly. For Kimbra that is. Half the time she didn't even hit the ball. When she did, it didn't go in the right direction. It started to become downright embarrassing the longer they played.

River, on the other hand… well…

He was landing shots after shots, hitting past Kimbra swiftly. She did not expect him to be this good at tennis. Maybe he should have picked something else, like ping pong or something.

"And then, he says to me, 'I want to explore my options'." River continued on his current rant concerning his love life as he hit the ball. "I don't know what the hell I ever saw in him."

Oh, for goodness's sake.

"Maybe you were just desperate."

She missed.

River hit another ball her way, unfazed. "What? I am not desperate."

"You sort of sound like it." Kimbra swung for it again.

Another miss.

She started to regret her hasty decision about accepting the tennis match with the feline. Her lack of skill at the game was downright embarrassing.

"No, I don't. I'm perfectly fine on my own. I don't need a significant other."

"I'm just saying, it sounds as if you're desperate and will cozy up to anyone who'll look your way."

He let out a dry laugh. "Now you're calling me easy?" Hit the ball back in her direction.

"No?" She tightened her hold on the racket. Preparing herself for further humiliation.

Was this all just a complete waste of time? They weren't even talking about the wind turbine project. They were talking about River's love life (or lack thereof). The designer didn't care about anything unless it involved him. Hell, she didn't even know if he even remembered what the project was.

Kimbra swung the racket, hitting the ball for once. It barely went over the net. She watched as the ball bounced a few times before rolling to a stop at the far end of the court.

River had been watching it as well. "You're awful at this." Blunt.

"I know."

Maybe that means he'll stop trying to play tennis with me.

"I'll just have to teach you, I suppose." River mused, flipping his racket over to hang it off his shoulder.

Dammit.

The match came to an end, and Kimbra begged River to not tell her the score. He reluctantly obliged, missing the perfect opportunity to brag about his skill level. They headed into the main club building, and sat down at one of the small tables by the window.

River sat back in the uncomfortable chair, crossing his arms. Watched as golfers carried their golf caddies across the green. "So you wanted to talk about the project?"

Finally.

"Yes, I actually do!" Now it was her turn to dazzle him. "We are on schedule. The first row of turbines will be in by next week and ready to be assembled."

All River could do was sigh at Kimbra's words. It went on like that for ten minutes. Throughout her entire explanation of the next few months, the feline appeared downright bored. As if he regretted asking her to come.

Kimbra abruptly stopped in the middle of her rambling, looking over to the feline to see if she could continue. "Stop me if I'm boring you."

And clearly, she was. His eyes wandered everywhere but hers. Nothing she said had even registered in that brain of his.

River's shoulders dropped with the loudest sigh he could muster. "You're boring me."

Kimbra frowned, tilting her head to the side as she felt her patience wane. "River."

"Kimbra." He shot back.

"I don't even know why you sponsored the project if you don't even want to hear about it."

"It's a PR thing. My sister's idea." He took a deep breath, running a hand through his dark hair. "My sister's stupid, stupid idea."

Kimbra scoffed at this, but River held up his hand.

He continued. "She thought it would be good publicity for my company. Which, I'm sure, is true to some extent."

"But–?"

"I may have partially sponsored it in hopes of… well…" the next words seemed to pain him to say. "Making a friend."

Huh, guess my assumptions were right after all. He's lonely and wants a friend.

That made Kimbra snort. "I think you need a boyfriend instead. Because of the way you were whining earlier."

His ear twitched irritably. "Yeah."

"I could help you."

"I'm gay."

"No, I didn't mean me. I mean, I could help you find a boyfriend."

Now he turned to her, somewhat interested. "Aren't you dating that Flud guy?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I rather you not play matchmaker if that's your taste in men."

"Not like you can afford to be picky." Kimbra mumbled it under her breath. Sitting back into the chair.

"I heard that." River said, his voice somewhat of a scold. "Just for that, I'm going to make you come out here every Thursday until you can actually hit the damn tennis ball."

"I'm not even good at tennis! Isn't there something else you enjoy playing? Baseball? Volleyball? Beer pong?"

"Beer pong?" The word barely made it out of the fashion designer's mouth.

"Well, I was St. Canard University's reigning champion." Kimbra held her head a little higher, despite it not being an actual achievement. "Not to brag."

"No. I want to play tennis. You're going to learn." River said, with a sense of finality.

So, of course Kimbra had to oblige. It was that or her job.

Guess that's it then.

Kimbra's mouth dropped into a frown. She had hoped the feline would have chosen beer pong. He probably never even played it before. He didn't seem like the type to. It would be something she could easily win.

Maybe she'd talk him into a game or two before the project ended.

Maybe.