Chapter 1

The restaurant was busy, loud with the clatter of dishes and conversation, and thick with both smoke from cigarettes and the smoke wafting from the open grills. It was Friday night, and that was always busy at the Double J Steakhouse, just outside the Northcross mall in Austin, Texas. Customers could see their steaks sizzling on open grills in the back of the dining area, the kitchen doors just beside the grill array where red-shirted waiters and waitresses rushed back and forth to bring orders to their tables. There was quite a long line of customers waiting to get in, and that put the manager in a knot to get the tables turned over and ready for the next customers.

Kit wiped his brow, blew out his breath, and heaved up his large basin of dirty dishes, then set it on his hip as he wiped the table down. Bussing tables was a harsh business, but on Fridays it was murder because they were so busy. He hefted the full basin over his head and threaded his way through a narrow aisle mined with the tails of the patrons jutting out from their open-backed seats. He apologized his way through the throng and then hurried back to the kitchen, narrowly avoiding a ferret female waitress with brown hair who almost crashed into him carrying a tray of dishes, then set the basin down on the track and started feeding dishes through the opening and back to the dishwashers.

Fifteen more minutes. Fifteen more minutes, and he was done for the day. He kept telling himself that over and over again.

He caught his reflection in the chrome of the freezer by the dish window, and frowned. His reddish hair was all wild again, sticking to his right ear, and he still couldn't help but look at the void where the tip of his left ear should have been. Even after two years, he still wasn't used to seeing it gone. It was because he could only see it in a mirror, he reckoned, since was used to seeing the jagged white-furred scar on his right arm, just below his elbow and running halfway to his wrist, and the two white streaks of fur in his left arm where his fur had grown back over the wounds, but had come back in white instead of red.

Ancient history.

Vil had offered to pay for reconstructive surgery to replace the tip of his left ear, but he'd declined. He couldn't afford it, and he'd be damned if he took a penny of money from his family where his life didn't hang in the balance. He let her pay for the hospital bills when they put him back together, but he wouldn't allow her to pay to fix his ear.

"You better get moving before the Blimp catches you daydreaming," Candice teased as she came up to him. Candice was a rather cute doe with pretty brown eyes and a darling smile.

"I only have fifteen more minutes," he answered. "And two more days."

"Yeah, I heard about that. I'm gonna miss you, hon," she said, putting her paw on his shoulder. "Sure you can't hang around?"

He shook his head. "I put back enough money to move on," he told her. "I haven't run out of west yet, so I'd like to keep going."

She laughed. "Well, there's only desert from here west," she grinned. "Til you hit the Pacific, anyway."

"Yeah. I'm kinda looking forward to seeing it."

"I wish I could do what you're doing," she said as she started unloading dishes from her own basin. "See the world, one odd job at a time."

"Do it," he prompted.

"Not til I finish school, I won't," she laughed. "I've only got one more year to go! After that, I might look at doing it."

"It's been fun so far," he told her, hefting his empty basin. "Let me get out there. I can do one more sweep before quitting time."

Out on the floor, he worked quickly and efficiently, collecting up plates and glasses, and enduring the occasional stare. His eyes were unusual, he knew it, and he was a little used to people either staring at his eyes or gawking at his left ear an the white hair and fur around it. The Blimp, a fat bear that served as the night manager, prowled the area, watching him and the waitresses to make sure they were doing their jobs, but it didn't really phase him. Kit did his job and he didn't slack. He put in effort for the time he was paid, unlike some others in the restaurant. He moved to another table and quickly started clearing it, slipping aside as Alice, a cute little black mouse, grabbed up her tip from the table before moving on to check on her other customers. He cleared five more tables, then hefted his heavy burden up onto his shoulder and picked his way back to the kitchen, then started unloading the dishes onto the conveyer. Once that was done, he saw he had five more minutes, so he stacked some clean plates into the dish dolley for the waitresses, then stacked a few carts of clean glasses onto the pallet. But when the clock hit 7:00pm, he threw his towel over his shoulder and headed straight for the time clock. He punched out, went back and washed his hands, then changed out of his red shirt in the bathroom. He retrieved his backpack from the office, then headed out the employee's door in the back.

He usually didn't bail that fast, but he had an appointment today.

He walked the two blocks to the Java Joint, an internet café where he'd applied for a job but never got a callback, ordered a cup of tea, then sat down and opened his laptop. It was the only really expensive thing he owned, a gift from Vil for Christmas not two weeks after he left Boston, but he was glad she sent it. Using the laptop, they could correspond via email and video, using a videoconferencing program she'd had installed on the laptop before she sent it to him. All he needed was a broadband connection, and lucky for him this café was a wireless hotspot. He did more than just that on it, though. He started keeping a journal of his travels, people he'd met, things he'd seen, writing it all down, and he had to admit, a game of Solitaire or Hearts or Civilization made monotonous days go by a little faster. He started up the videoconferencing program, flipped the cover on the built-in webcam open, then waited for a connection, then smiled as Vil's face appeared in the window. He seated the headset on his face a little, then cut in the audio as he adjusted the microphone that hovered near his muzzle.

"Hey sis," he greeted. "You get my postcard?"

"Sure did," she answered. "Is that thing real?"

He laughed. "Sure is. I saw it. It's made out of plaster."

"I'm not surprised," she grinned. "So, how's life been treatin' ya, little bro?"

"Oh, same as always," he told her. "I just got off work."

"Oh? Where you working?"

"Bussing tables at a steakhouse," he answered.

She sighed. "Bro, you have a degree. Couldn't you at least try to get something a little more, well, dignified?"

"It's hard to get those kinds of jobs quick, Vil," he told her. "They like to interview, then call, and then interview. At least at the Double J, I had a job ten minutes after I filled out the application. I needed the money."

"And whose fault is that?" she teased, giving him a grin.

"All mine," he said immediately. "I didn't budget very well, and it didn't help that I got fired from that Wendy's in Houston."

"You got fired? Why?"

"Because they were breaking health regs, and I blew the whistle on 'em," he answered.

"Isn't that illegal?"

"In the real world it is. For us wage slaves, there's nothing we can do about it. What are we gonna do, hire a lawyer?"

She shook her head. "Don't get me started, Kit," she warned. "You know how I feel about that."

"That's your problem," he grinned, then he scratched the side of his muzzle. "Just to warn ya, I'm moving on again next week."

"You never gave me your address there," she complained. "How can I keep up with you?"

"It keeps you from sending me any packages without my consent," he teased.

"Well, you can't blame me for being worried about you, little bro."

"I appreciate that. How's work?"

"Bleh," she grunted, sticking her tongue out, which always made him chuckle. She had a habit of doing that when she was thinking about something unpleasant. "I fired Bundowski yesterday. That little bastard was trying to sell off the Baton Rouge foundry without my approval, probably some kind of kickback scheme. So he's toast. Want his job? All yours."

"No thanks," he said with a shudder.

"Outside of that, it's going pretty well. I'm looking at buying a shipyard in New Orleans called Avondale right now, and the New Hampshire shipyard just won a new Navy contract."

"Sounds risky. I passed through New Orleans a few months ago, and it's still kinda crazy down there, even after all this time since the hurricane."

"Yeah, but they're offering a pretty attractive price, and the shipyard comes with quite a few Navy contracts. I could send down some people from the New Hampshire and Virginia yards and get them restaffed quick. I'd just have to ram the merger approval through the Department of the Navy. They have to approve shipyard transactions where there's active contracts."

"Sounds like you more or less made up your mind."

"Yeah, I'm kinda leaning towards buying it," she nodded, then she adjusted her microphone a little. "Just waiting for the cost benefit analysis to see if the numbers crunch the right way. So, met anyone lately?" she winked.

"What is this? The Ice Queen, asking about my love life?" he teased.

"Oh, bite me, bro," she said, sticking her tongue out at him. "I'm busy now. I had my flings in college, I'll have you know, but I'm too busy right now to date."

"I haven't really dated either. Most femmes aren't too keen on going out with a fox like me, who'll be gone next month."

"You'd be surprised," she winked. "Aunt Sarah is sure trying to push me off on Steven Vastonne," she said, her tongue peeking out again. "What a stuck-up, insenstive, pig-headed prick."

"But he's got the blood," Kit said with a frown.

"And so Aunt Sarah keeps pushing him," Vil sighed with a nod. "I think I'm gonna marry this cute raccoon I saw down at Wal-Mart the other day," she mused.

Kit almost spewed tea all over his laptop. "Half the family would die of a heart attack!"

"Yeah. Almost makes it worth doing, doesn't it?"

Kit laughed. "What were you doing in Wal-Mart?" he asked curiously. "Isn't that a little lowest common denominator for you?"

"Hey, I needed a new blackberry battery and it was right there," she protested, tapping her muzzle with her forefinger.

"They have everything made in China, if it's cheap," he grinned. "I shop there all the time."

"If you show up with a yellow smiley face sticker, I'll disown you myself," she warned.

He laughed.

"Kit," she said, a bit more seriously. "I want to send you something."

"No."

"Hear me out," she said, putting her hand up. "I want to send you a cell phone."

"I don't really need one, sis. I have the laptop."

"Yeah, but you can't use it everywhere. I, I don't like the idea of you out there without some kind of way to contact me in an emergency. I promise I'll only send you the phone, and I'll take care of the bill. That way you can always call someone if you have an emergency. Me, the cops, 911, whoever you need to. Will you let me?"

He turned it over in his mind, then finally nodded. "Alright. I'll let you send it. But if there's anything else in that box, I'll come back up there and spank you."

"Well, now I know how to get you to come home," she teased. "Let me get a pen so you can give me your address."

"Won't work, sis, I'm staying in a mission," he warned. "They don't take deliveries."

"Hmm. Give me the address anyway, and also where you're working now. I'll take care of it."

"How?"

"Think like a Vulpan, silly boy," she winked. "The mission may not take deliveries, but you will. I'll run a messenger down there with it. If I have both addresses, that way he can find you no matter where you are when he arrives."

"You're gonna make someone fly down here just to give me a phone?"

"Sure am," she grinned. "It's the Vulpan way."

"I'm glad I'm out of that family," he grunted, which made her laugh.

"Hey! No insulting your big sister!"

"When you're deserving of it, you will be insulted," he teased.

She stuck her tongue out at him. "I'll try to get it down there tomorrow morning. That work for you?"

"I have to be at work at ten."

"Well, I know you're not much of an early riser. Mind if he gets it to you at work instead?"

"That's fine."

"Okay, give me the address."

"I'm not sure of the exact street address, sis. But it's the Double J Steakhouse just across from the Northcross mall here in Austin."

"That's all I need. He'll find it," she promised. "Where are you going from there?"

"I really don't know. I'll jump on the bus and get off when the mood hits me."

"Sometimes I wonder how you do it."

"It's actually not that bad. I've been keeping a journal of it on the laptop."

"Oooh! Send it to me! I wanna read it!"

"Well, sure, okay. I'll email a copy to you tonight. That okay?"

"Fine, fine. Now I get to see the world through your eyes," she grinned. "It should be really cool!"

He laughed. "No wonder you drove that old bastard crazy. You sure don't speak like a Vulpan. Six years of private school and proper English lessons, down the drain."

She laughed brightly. "At least you haven't lost your Boston accent!" she teased. "I should send a cah down for you, bro!"

"It's not that bad," he said defensively. "Six months in the south has taken the edge off of it."

"But I can still hear it," she winked. "Hate to say it, little bro, but I'm gonna have to cut this short. I have some reports to go through before bed, and it's getting late here. What time is it there?"

"Around eight. It's, what, nine there?"

She nodded. "I'm looking at three hours of boring reports before bed. And I want to read some of your journal too."

"Alright. I'll look for that messenger tomorrow."

"Okay, bro. Send me those files, okay?"

"They're on their way as soon as we finish."

"Then start sending it," she grinned. "Okay, next appointment," she said, holding up her blackberry. "Wednesday, any time after six. That work for you?"

"I'll be on a bus."

"Damn. Well, I'll just call ya, okay? Since you'll have a new phone," she winked.

"Heh. Alright, sis. Talk to you later. Love you."

"Love ya, bro. Be good."

Her picture vanished from the window, replaced by a big black screen with DISCONNECTED blinking within it. He put his black-furred paws together over the laptop and laced his fingers, then set his muzzle atop them, lost in thought. A phone. He couldn't disagree with her reasoning, and that was the only reason he accepted it. It would be a little safer. And knowing his sister, it would be one of those phones that would work anywhere in the entire world, like hers. That global plan deal. Although…it would give the family a means to get in touch with him, if they ever wanted to bother him.

Not that would happen, really. The old bastard's hand kept reaching out from the grave to keep Kit separated from the others. The aid clause was still in the will. Anyone caught giving him anything they got from their inheritances could have it taken away. Vil was the only one who dared to go against the will, but that was because she was the one in control of the family business, and she'd aleady threatened to take the entire family to court to have the will invalidated and make her executor if anyone in the family dared try to get her cut out.

She could do it. Vil was a sweet femme, loving and considerate, but she could be as tenacious as a wolverine when she was angry, she was a genius, and she had the Vulpan ruthlessness when it came to business. That's how she got the nickname "The Ice Queen," because she could be a cold bitch when dealing with people she didn't like, and when she was at work, she was all business. The family was afraid of her, because they knew that if she threatened to do it, that meant she was confident she could pull it off. And none of them were particularly keen on the idea of having Vilenne Vulpan, the Ice Queen, in control of their money.

Such a misleading nickname, he often thought. Vil got that nickname while in school because of her icy demeanor when dealing with boys looking to try to woo a rich femme, a Vulpan no less, and some reporter had latched onto it when she took over as the CEO of the family business. It was an indication of his sister's personality. In private, she was warm, funny, kind, and sweet, but in public, she was every inch a Vulpan. Cool, calculating, dangerous, and almost ruthless. For the first few months, she needed that cold nature to sweep out the lackeys and sycophants from the company and weed out the backstabbers like Bundowski, those who wouldn't accept the young female as their boss, or thought they knew better than a wet-nosed little kit that was just out of college. She cleaned house quickly, and now had the company running smoothly the way she wanted it. But under it all, she was still Vil, his big sis, who had been a shoulder to cry on when their mother died when he was eight, and the reassuring, steadying presence in his life that served as more than a sister. She'd become more protective of him after their mother died, more like a mother herself than a sister, and she was still the only member of his family that he could honestly say he loved.

The rest of them could go to hell.

He blinked, and remembered he made a promise. He sent the files holding his journals as a series of emails to her, one for each state he'd visited since leaving Boston, then shut down the laptop and closed it. He finished his tea, then simply sat there a moment and listened to Bunvayne playing over the speakers as the song finished up.

"Oooh, look at him, JD!" Sandy squealed in a low whisper, elbowing her and pointing. The chinchilla leaned in close to her, almost cheek to cheek. "That missing piece of his ear makes him look so dangerous, doesn't it? I wonder if he's one of those rough types."

"Sandy," Jessie sighed. "The last thing I need right now is another rough type."

"Yeah, well, it was just a thought," she said, a little less enthusiastically.

That was really the last thing she needed. Burke had been cute too, with rugged wolf looks and a good bod, but the instant he dared to slap her during an argument, it was over immediately. She wouldn't put up with that kind of treatment, and besides, her brother would have killed him if she ever told him it happened.

Really. Why did some males think that hitting a female was a way to win an argument?

She hadn't really wanted to come out, but Sandy could be a real pest sometimes. She knew what happened, and she felt it was some kind of moral obligation to help her sorority sister.

A lop bunny sat down on the far side of Sandy and started making small talk. Sandy was insufferably cute and perky, and she could talk to strangers like that. She was so fearless! But, it gave Jessie a moment to secretly look at that fox again, without Sandy pointing out body parts and making all kinds of lewd observations. Something about him…tickled at her. He seemed vaguely familiar to her, somehow. She didn't know how. Had he stood behind her in line down at the cafeteria? Had he been in one of her classes? She'd seen him before, she was certain of it.

Well, he was kinda cute. He was a bit more rugged than most foxes, with a slightly broader muzzle, and looked a little taller too. And his furry arms were a little bigger than the usual college student. This guy worked out. He shifted his arms, and she realized he had a jagged white stripe in the fur of his forearm, ending just before the color of his fur changed to form the dark mittens on their paws common among foxes.

"Scars," Sam said as she sat down beside them, adjusting her round-lensed glasses.

"Huh?" they asked in unison.

"The white stripes on his arm. Those are scars. Probably gotten the same time he lost that piece of his ear."

"Says you, miss Pre-Med," Sandy grinned. "And who says we were looking at him?"

"Mmm-hmm," the skunk intoned, staring directly at the small gray chinchilla.

Sandy's cheek fur ruffled slightly, which made her eyes flash. Somehow, Sam could always do that to Sandy, despite the fact that Sandy was one of the most fearless femmes Jessie had ever met in her life.

"We should go say hi to him," Sandy said with a conniving grin.

"You mean you want me to go say hi to him," Jessie corrected.

"Sure, go for it! He's cute, and now we know he's not a rough type!"

"He's got some money, too. That's a Sabletech DV laptop. Those things are expensive," Sam reasoned.

"That's just another good reason!" Sandy said in an excited whisper. "Go on!"

"I," she hedged. He was cute, that was for sure, but something told her…he didn't want to be bothered. "No. He seems like he's just fine. I don't think we should bother him."

"You are such a chicken!" Sandy said, then she got up, adjusted her tanktop, and then marched right towards him.

"Sandy!" Jessie said in a strangled whisper, her fur already ruffling out. She was going to do it! She was really going to go over there and try to set them up!

Lost in the rhythms of the song, imagining in his head the chords he'd have to use to play the guitar component of the song, Kit was oblivious to the world. Music had been one of his few escapes from reality since he left home. The hammering of the drums, the melodic rise and fall of the lead instruments, the angst and anguish in the voice of the lead singer, they merged with the haunting lyrics to form a ballad of loss and dejection.

Nobody knows me.
Nobody cares.
Nobody sees me.
Nobody stares.

I'm lost in the world.
I'm lost in my head.
I've lost my girl.
I've no tears to shed.

Come back to me;
My Dark Angel.
We were meant to be;
My Dark Angel.
Take my soul with you.
Before you return
Before you return.

Return to hell.

The lyrics were vague, but Kit could see the heart of them. A male had lost his soulmate, not to a breakup, but in death, and he mourned and hoped for death so they could be reunited. The artist's use of non-rhyming lyrics in the chorus was unusual, holding the rhymic finishing lyric until the very end of the song, but it provided extra impact, more emphasis on the core of the song's meaning.

It was very clever.

He really needed to practice more with the guitar. He could play it some, but he was nowhere near good enough to play in public and not feel like an idiot. Besides, singing had always been his strong suit. His family said he had a good voice, and he actually rather liked it. Too bad he was born to a father who thought music was a waste of time and energy, and refused to allow him to take band or join a chorus or anything like that.

"Hi!"

Kit started, almost knocking his teacup off the table. He found himself staring up at a gray-furred chinchilla with large brown eyes, round ears with three piercings, and a huge grin. That grin slipped off her face when he looked up at her, and then she suddenly clapped her hands and gave out a little squeal.

"Your eyes are beautiful!" she exclaimed, reaching down and putting her paws over his wrists. "I've never seen anyone with two different colored eyes before that weren't faked with contacts! Were you born that way?"

"I, uh, yeah," he said, trying to get his bearings. She talked a thousand words a minute, and it was hard to keep up with her. "Uh, thanks for the complement."

"You come here often?"

"Just a few times. It's the only place I can use the internet."

"Aww, nuts, I thought you were in U.T." U.T. was the University of Texas, which was down on the south side of Austin, right by the state capitol.

"No, I went to U-Mass," he corrected with a shake of his head.

"I thought you were a Yankee," she teased, patting his wrists. "I can hear it in your accent."

"Guilty," he said with a chuckle.

"So, can I sit a minute?"

"I guess so," he shrugged.

She seated herself across from him. "It's nice to meet a guy first, without him coming over and laying all kinds of corny lines on us," she grinned. "Sorry I scared ya."

"I was listening to the music. I zone out sometimes when I'm doing it."

"My sis does the same thing. Then again, she's a music major. I think she'd marry some of those classical composers if they were dug out of their graves." She gave him a devious little grin. "Now, let's get down to business."

"Business?"

"Yeah. My friend over there just broke up with her asshole of an ex-boyfriend," she said, pointing to his left. "She's cute, and she's available. You're cute, you don't look like you're attached, and I thought you might like to ask her out."

He glanced over. In a booth against the wall, just under a movie poster of Star Wars, two femmes were sitting. One of them was a rather serious looking skunk, with large round glasses, kinda cute in a studious sort of way, and the other was a cream-furred female cat, but she had blond hair, black ears, and black mittens on her paws. Her blue eyes were wide, her face fur was virtually standing on end, and she looked mortified.

She was gorgeous.

In one glance, he took her in. She was wearing a blue designer shirt and a silver bracelet on her right wrist. Her hair was perfectly cut and styled in a long side-parted poof that hovered over her eyes, tucked up under her opposite ear. She was very shapely from what he could see of her, filling out her shirt nicely.

Though she was the most beautiful femme he'd ever seen, he just wasn't sure he was ready to even try to talk to her. He wasn't just worried that he wasn't ready to enter the dating scene, but there was a very real fear about how his family would react if their disowned embarrassment started taking up with a cat. He may not be a part of the family anymore, but he could still be a liability to their reputation.

"Well, her boyfriend must have been an utter idiot to let someone like her slip through his fingers," he said evenly, looking back at the chinchilla. "She's beautiful."

"So, that's even more reason to go introduce yourself," the chinchilla pressed, grabbing his paw. "Come on, I'll introduce you!"

"No thank you," he said, with sincere regret. "I'm leaving in a few days, so I'm afraid I'm not exactly what she'd be looking for."

"Aww! You're leaving? Going back to Massachusetts?"

He shook his head. "I'm going west."

"Where?"

"I don't know yet. I'll go until I find a place that, well, invites me to stop. Then I'll stay there a while and try to find out why it wanted me there," he said, a distant look in his eyes.

"How romantic! So you just go until you find a place to stop?"

He nodded.

"Wow, what a way to live! Imagine everything you get to see and do. It's like living a vacation!"

"Until you get hungry or need someplace to sleep. Then this little issue called money shows up and spoils it," he chuckled.

"Well, why don't you go over there and talk to my friend JD," she offered. "Maybe you can sweep her off her feet and take her with you," the chinchilla purred to him.

"Girls like her won't have anything to do with people like me," he said evenly, but with a hint of finality. "She has a life and friends. All I have is the road."

"Well, if you sweet-talked me enough, I might break up with Bobby and tag along," she winked.

He chuckled. He patted her paw, then leaned in and kissed her lightly on the cheek. "It's a tempting offer, but I'll have to pass. And it's time for me to go. Thank you for a wonderful chat, uh…"

"Sandy," she said, taking his paw and shaking it.

"Kit," he smiled.

She giggled. "Kit? Your parents named you Kit? That's like JD's parents naming her Kitten, or–"

"Why does everyone always say that," he sighed, throwing his paws up in exasperation.

"Well, because–"

"I know why," he cut her off, which made her giggle again. He stood up and picked up his laptop, then smiled down at her.

"Why would they do something like that to you?"

"It's short for something that's even worse," he said with a shudder. He hated his name, and he wouldn't go by his middle name because that's what his bastard of a father was called.

"Oooh, what?"

"Never in a million years," he said with finality, then he pushed in his chair.

"Maybe you can come back tomorrow and we can talk some more?" she asked.

"I work up until I leave. I doubt I'll have time. Night, Sandy. It was nice meeting you."

"You too!"

And with that, he extricated himself from the talkative chinchilla. He passed right by the booth holding the skunk and the cat, and he couldn't help but look at her one more time. Her cheek fur poofed out almost instantly when she looked at him, but he just gave her a genuinely compassionate smile, and said not a word to her. Lord knows, her friend probably embarrassed her half to death already.

Such a beautiful cat. The sad part was, most of him really wanted to sit down next to her in that booth and talk to her, but he knew that that was something he'd better not visit on some poor unsuspecting girl. If she knew about him, she might consider him to be lying, just pretending, then the awful reality would hit and she'd be besieged by tabloid reporters and angry Vulpans threatening her to stay away from one of their own. Even if he was disowned, he was still blue-blood, and no feline tramp should even dare look in his direction, they'd tell her.

He wouldn't drop that hell on her, no matter how beautiful she was, or how much he might want to sit in that booth and talk to her.

"So, what did he say?" Sam asked with uncharacteristic curiosity as Sandy came drifting back to the table.

"He's so romantic! He's working his way across the country, just stopping wherever he pleases. He said he knows to stop when the town invites him to stay. Wow!" she gushed. "Did you see his eyes? Weren't they gorgeous?"

"I've never seen anything like that before," Sam said clinically. "At least not in person. I've seen pictures of it in my medical journals, though. It's a genetic mutation."

"Oh, stop trying to make it all science-y!" Sandy complained. "Can't you see the beauty just for beauty's sake?"

"JD? JD? Hello?" Sam said, waving her white-mittened paw in front of the cat's face. Jessie blinked, then glanced at the skunk.

He was so handsome. Even with the scars and the missing ear, he was a handsome fox, and his eyes were–wow. They were beyond gorgeous. She looked at him, and she wasn't even able to talk. It was almost, well, intimidating. But that wasn't new for her, since she was naturally shy to begin with.

And again, this strange, nagging feeling that she'd seen him somewhere before.

"Oh yeah, she likes him," Sandy grinned. "I should have asked where he works!" the chinchilla said, smacking herself in the forehead.

"I've…seen him before," Jessie said slowly, blinking and looking at the table. "I don't know where. But I have."

"Probably bumped into him at the Circle K," Sam noted.

"Maybe." Or maybe not, she mused to herself.

Early shift at the Double J was busy in one way, relaxing in another. It was their job to set up the restaurant to open, which was pretty easy. Kit did whatever needed to be done, from setting out chairs to cutting up vegetables in the kitchen to vacuuming the carpets. The Blimp didn't work days, instead it was Sheila, a mongoose with a pretty laid-back disposition, so much so she brought a Game Boy with her to work and often played it in corners during lulls. Unlike the Blimp, she trusted her crew and knew everything would get done, and she allowed them to go about it without trying ot loom over them and micro-manage. That was why Kit always smiled when he saw he was on dayshift.

He was a little distracted today, though. He'd already warned Sheila that someone was going to come see him and he might need about ten minutes when they arrived, and she was alright with it. He kept an eye on the door while they were getting ready to open, but got busy in the kitchen helping them change out a gas cylinder for the fountain drink machine, because the fitting was stripped and they couldn't get the hose off.

Saturday was slow at first, but it got busy quick after about one o'clock, so it was important to get all the little things done before they got slammed. They also usually had a short-handed staff until about one o'clock, which was why Kit worked wherever he was needed when there weren't any dishes to clear.

"Hey, Kit!" Sheila boomed from the door to the dining room. "Those people you said were coming are here to see ya!"

"Sure, hold on a minute!" he called back. "We almost got this fixed! Okay, hold it steady, Lucy, let's try one more time." His arms quivered as he struggled to unscrew the fitting, then the nut cracked and it turned with a light squeal of protest.

"My hero!" the cougar said with a laugh, patting him on the shoulder. "I can get it from here, cutie. Go take care of whatever that is boss wants."

Kit came out of the back cleaning his hands on a rag, then almost fell over!

There, flanked by two large panthers in dark suits, wearing a serious gray dress skirt and blazer and holding a briefcase, was Vil!

"Sis!" he said in surprise as she lowered her sunglasses, showing him the family eyes.

She laughed and slammed into him, giving him a rough hug. "Little bro!" she called. "It's so good to see you!"

"I never dreamed–"

"That's why I did it," she grinned. "You're so thin! And look at this!" she said, picking at his red uniform shirt. "Red does not look good on you, bro. You need to talk to whoever gave you this."

He laughed. "I seriously doubt they'd listen," he said. "What are you doing here?"

"Do you have any idea how hard you are to track down?" she complained. "I haven't seen you in six months either!"

"You see me every week."

"Well, I can't hug you ever week," she added, giving him a little squeeze, but careful not to put any pressure on his back. "Now give your big sister a kiss!" she ordered, tapping her cheek imperiously.

He laughed and did as he was commanded, kissing her on the cheek.

"Where's your boss? I want to talk to him."

"Her. And don't you dare," he warned in a serious tone.

"I won't say a word," she said, sticking her tongue out at him. "Just go have a seat. I want to make sure you won't get in trouble if you sit down and talk with me a while."

"Well, alright," he acquiesced. He went over and sat down at the nearest table, but Vil's two panther escorts didn't move from the front door. Vil stood near the kitchen door with Sheila for a few minutes, chatting with her, and they both looked over at him once. Then she laughed and nodded, then went back into the kitchen.

"There, all taken care of," she said, putting her briefcase on the table. She opened it and took out a box holding a Motorola phone. "Here you are," she told him. "It's on a satellite plan, bro. It'll work almost anywhere. Use it however you want. The number for the phone is on a post-it stuck to the phone inside the box. I have my work, home, and cell numbers in its address book, and a few other numbers you might want to have."

"Like?"

"Like Clancy, for one. He basicly helped me raised you, bro. He's been really worried about you."

"You mean you helped him raise me," Kit grinned.

"Technicalities," she said with a dismissive wave of her paw, which made him laugh. "Now, I've totally murdered my entire schedule for next week, so let's make it worth it."

He did. They talked over nearly two hours, about anything and everything. He told her all about his travels and what he'd seen and done, and she went into exhaustive detail about work and home. She told him all about the little war going on in the family over the will, and there were already a couple of lawsuits filed over this or that cousin that felt he was unfairly cut out. It also turned out that their bastard father's brothers and sisters also felt a little upset that they weren't given the company to operate, going instead to his daughter, and she felt that two of their uncles, Kitstrom Jacob and Kitstrom Zachary, might try to challenge the will in court.

"They don't have a prayer, but it could be a little distracting," she snorted. "There was an executor clause in his power of attorney that transferred all the shares over to me before he died. Hell, the board at the company approved it long before it happened. I was the next in line way before dad's health started going on him. That torpedos their lawsuit right there. The way I was given the shares makes it impossible for them to try to get them through the court, and I've already hired Ursus and Vorick to look into invalidating dad's will."

Kit whistled. "Expensive."

"Yeah, well, Clancy brought me a copy of an email Cybil sent to her father looking at the possibility of getting me cut out through the back door, because of you, and also a way to try to invalidate the pre-nup so she can lay a claim on the inheritance. So I'm going to beat her to the punch. And since the family's all pissed off over what they didn't get, I guess I'll just have to void Dad's will and take control of everything myself. And since I was given control of the company while he was still alive, there's not a damn thing Uncle Jake and Uncle Zach can do about it."

"I'm sorry to hear about that, sis. I knew that would be a shitstorm when he died, but I was hoping it would pass you over."

"Watch your language, young man," she teased with a wink.

"I'm an adult now, sis. So bite me."

She laughed. "Well, the firm feels they have a viable case to invalidate the will, because of you," she winked. "Dad's obsession with you indicates a lack of sound mind, in their opinion. After all, a man has to be crazy to do what Dad did to his own son."

"Heh. I'd love to see that. I know it would make that bastard roll in his grave if I was un-disowned, but at least in that regard, he'll get his wish. I'm never going back to Boston, Vil. They turned their backs on me when I needed help the most, and I won't ever feel like I'm a part of them again."

"Well, as long as you don't turn your back on me, I can live with that," she told him seriously.

"Never."

"Good," she smiled. "I read your journals, bro, and they're incredible! You should publish them!"

"They're not that good," he said dismissively.

"Bro, the way you describe people and things, it's like I was there," she told him seriously. "I almost peed myself when I read about that rabbit in New Orleans and the soup can!" She broke out into a gale of delighted laughter.

"Well, it was his story, not mine," Kit chuckled.

"That's just it, bro. It was like he was there telling me the story, not you just writing down what you heard. It was amazing! Do me a favor."

"What?"

"Keep doing it. You always wondered what your calling was…well, I think you found it. I really think you could make it as a writer."

"I don't think I'd be a good writer. I could never make a deadline, and I'm not that good at making things up. All I can really do is write about what I've heard, or seen."

"Not every writer is a fiction writer, Kit. At the very least, you should put these up on a blog. And write your journal as a blog. You could call it 'A Poor Little Rich Boy's Experiences In America'," she said grandly, putting her hands out as if seeing her title in lights.

"I think Richie Rich would come after me with a switchblade for stealing his nickname," Kit mused, which made Vil erupt into laughter.

"You should think about it."

"I will," he promised.

"So, you have, what, three days?"

"About. I'll be a little sad to leave."

"Why is that?"

He glanced at her. "I saw a femme I wanted to get to know better," he admitted.

Her eyes brightened and she leaned over the table. "Okay, now we're getting to the good stuff!" she giggled. "Tell me all about her! Where did you meet? Is she pretty?"

"I didn't really meet her," he said, then described the circumstances in the café the night before. "I wanted to sit down and talk to her, but all I could see was that bastard and the family, just waiting to bury her if they knew I was going out with a cat. Can you imagine what would happen if they found out a Vulpan was going out with another species?"

"Yeah," she said, frowning a little. "That would be a little messy, but nothing that couldn't be worked out. But was she pretty?"

"She was the most beautiful femme I've ever seen in my life."

"Even prettier than me?" she said with mock rejection. He slapped her on the arm, which made her laugh. "That's okay, if you thought I was pretty like that, I'd start getting worried," she teased. "Did you get her name?"

"No, her friend called her JD, but I seriously doubt that was her name," he said, with a little sigh, putting his elbow on the table and leaning his cheek into his paw.

"Well, we need to get you fixed before you see her again," she said, reaching up and tweaking his half-missing left ear.

"Eh, I'm kinda used to it now," he told her, letting her do something he wouldn't let any other fur do, touch his injured ear.

"I hate it. When will you let me get it fixed for you?"

"When I can pay for it myself."

"Bro–"

"No, Vil. And that's final."

She sighed, then nodded. "You hungry? I think I'd like to try some of the food here."

"Food?" he said, then he gasped and looked at the clock. "Aw, crud! We've been here talking for hours!"

"It's alright," she laughed. "Your boss said you have the rest of the day off."

"But I need the mon–"

Vilenne grabbed his muzzle, clamping his mouth shut. "Don't you dare say that five-letter word in front of me," she told him with serious eyes. "Now, when I take my paw away, you'd better not say anything but yes. Got that, young fur?"

He nodded silently.

She released his muzzle, but he just gave her a sly grin. "Money," he completed, which made her both laugh and haul off and slap him on the shoulder.

"Now, I'm sure they've been watching us all this time, so let's at least use it." She looked back towards the kitchen and waved her arms. When no one came out, she put her fingers to her muzzle and gave out an ear-splitting whistle. Even now, he had no idea how she could do that. He'd tried to learn how she did it for years.

Seconds later, Amanda, a rather cute german shepherd, rushed up with a order pad. "I take it you wanted to see me?" she said with a bright smile.

"Amanda, this is my sister, Vil," Kit introduced.

"Oh, we heard who she was," she winked. "If you don't mind me saying, I think your eyes are lovely, miss Vil. I didn't know you had them too."

"It's a kind of family trait," Vil winked. "Everyone from our great-grandad down has the eyes. It's how we know each other in a room full of foxes."

Amanda chuckled. "Hungry?"

"You bet! What's good?"

"Everything," she answered. "Want a menu?"

"Please."

"Good. Don't trust this one's food choices. All he ever eats are hamburgers," Amanda teased.

"Well, some things never change," Vil laughed.

Amanda brought her a menu, and she spent a long moment looking at it. "Oh, yeah. Marcus! Stav! Go ahead and get something to eat, on me!" she called to the two panthers who still stood silently in the entry foyer, near the receptionist's podium.

The two panthers took a table near the two foxes, and Amanda brought them menus as well. She came back and gave them a bright smile, lingering her glance at Kit. "Ready?"

"Yup! I'll take the ribeye, rare," she answered. "No potato. Put this shrimp bowl here on the side in its place."

"We can do that, no problem. What do you want to drink?"

"Milk please," she answered.

"What do you want, Kit?" she grinned.

"I'll just take a hamburger. Jimmy knows how I like them," he answered.

"You bet. I'll get it out to you as quick as it's done, 'kay?"

"Sooooo," Vil sounded after Amanda hurried off. "Think you're gonna go, or maybe stay a while?"

"My head and my conscious tells me to go. Another part of me is trying to change their minds."

Vil laughed. "Would that be your heart, or perhaps something a bit further south?"

"I'm not sure yet."

She giggled.

"I dreamed about her last night," he admitted, his words without their usual crispness as he started to zone out, usually something he only did when a song he liked was playing on the stereo. "I don't usually remember my dreams, but I remembered that one."

"What happened? Something you can't mention to your sister?" she teased.

He blinked. "No, nothing like that," he said, his cheeks ruffling slightly. "I just had the guts to sit down and talk to her, that's all. And she told me her name."

"What was it?"

"I don't remember. It's one of those things where you hear, but you don't hear, and it's like you heard. If you know what I mean."

"Well, maybe you should think of hanging around a while, then," Vil urged. "Find an apartment. Get a better job than this. Maybe get into a position where you do have the guts to talk to her."

"But the family–"

"Bro, you said it yourself. They turned their backs on you. You've been your own fox since you were sixteen, and no thanks to them. You don't owe the family a damn thing. Don't let them run your life now. Do what you want. If you want to chase after this cat and see where it goes, then by great-grandad's green right eye, do it!"

"I'd love to, but…I dunno. I wouldn't even know what to say. How could I explain it, sis? 'Oh, by the way, I'm one of the Boston Vulpans, but I'm as poor as a church mouse and my family might want you dead if they knew about you.' Not quite the kind of smalltalk that's gonna get us on the right foot, is it?"

"Just be yourself, bro. That's all you need to be, and all you should ever be."

"That's the problem," he growled.

"Hey, never know til you try," she teased. "What's the worst that could happen?"

"Uncle Zach could have her killed," Kit said with a serious look. "You know how maniacal he is about our bloodline."

"I don't think it would go quite that far."

"Well, I do."

"Then I'll just have to do something about that, I suppose," Vil said dismissively. "Once I have the will voided and they find me holding all their purse strings, let's see how creative they get."

"I'd be careful about that, sis. If you back them into a corner like that, they might surprise you when they come out swinging."

"It won't be a bother at all, bro," she shrugged. "I'll just remind them that they turned their backs on you years ago, so what you do now is none of their damned business. You've already been disowned. If any of them thinks they're going to put themselves in our father's shoes where you're concerned, I'm going to bust out the sledgehammer and start bashing some toes."

"Nothing would make me happier. The day I wake up and don't remember who I am and where I came from will be the happiest day of my life."

"You're so mean to me," she teased.

"Well, not counting you, sis. Never you." He took her paws in his own and squeezed gently.

"Now, where is that food?" she complained. "I need to start thinking of going back."

"It won't take long," he promised.

Five minutes later, their food was on the table. Vil took one bite of her steak and almost quivered. "Mmmmmmmm, oh wow, you weren't kidding! This is better than any steak I've ever had in Boston!"

"They don't know how make steak north of Arkansas," Amanda teased as she put platters down in front of the two panthers. "If you want real steak, you have to come where we take making steak as seriously as a pastor takes God."

Vil laughed, almost losing her mouthful of steak.

Kit enjoyed his hamburger as his sister devoured the steak, then went through the shrimp quickly. "Mmm, I wish they delivered, but it'd be cold by the time it got home," she giggled. "Amanda! Can you have them grill me another one and put it in some foil? If it microwaves and tastes half as good as it does fresh, it's still better than what I can get at home!"

"One more steak, coming up!" she called from near the kitchen doors and hurried inside.

"It is very good steak, madam," one of the panthers agreed. "I'll go talk to their chefs, if you'd like, and take some notes for Deward."

"That's a great idea!" she said with a nod.

The panther stood up and took a small notepad from his inside pocket, then approached the kitchen door. He opened it and called out. Sheila peeked out and gave him and Vil a curious look, but both of them just waved her on. She nodded, and the panther disappeared into the kitchen with her.

"Stav is always so thougthful," she chuckled. The two panthers were unknown to him in person, but her emails told him who they were. They were bodyguards, and had worked for her for about a year. She described them as utterly professional, discrete, and quite intelligent. They were twin brothers, with twenty years of impeccable service as the personal bodyguards of some of the biggest names in the world.

Kit endured several more minutes of his sister trying to subtly sway him into doing what she said, but he was quite adamant. The only area where he showed any signs of wavering was in his decision to leave Austin or stay. "I, I just don't know," he sighed, leaning his head back. "I'll have to think about it."

Amanda returned with a large styrofoam box. "Here we are, Miss Vil," she said. "One rare ribeye, double foil wrapped. It should stay hot for a while. Jimmy said if you nuke it, just pour some water or marinade over it and cook it in a sealed container. That should keep it from drying out as it heats up."

"I'll keep that in mind," Vil said as she took the box from her. "May I have the check for us and my panther friends please? Oh, and if you wouldn't mind, separate Kit's burger from it. I have to pay for that separately."

"They still watch the bank accounts even after the old bastard died?"

"Like a hawk," she nodded, finishing her milk. "But they can't make a mouse's squeak about what I pay for in cash earned from my boutique. That's my money. It has nothing to do with the family."

The boutique was indeed just that. It was something she had to set up as part of her work in Harvard, to build a business from the ground up, and do it for real. She had taken a two thousand dollar initial investment and parlayed it into a successful boutique in downtown Boston, where it made a tidy profit every year. The success of Blue Buttons Boutique was one of the reasons why the board of Vulpan Shipyards had agreed with his bastard father to allow Vil to succeed him as head of the company. When it came to business, Vil was every bit a Vulpan.

God, he wished he could have been there when the bastard made that announcement. He must have chewed on his own tongue before saying it.

The old bastard's will was quite specific. It stated that anyone that helped Kit using family assets would forfeit their inheritances. Vil's outside income from her boutique was no part of the will, so she could spend that money to help him if she so chose. But he still resisted it when she did so, because he knew his family would try to find some way to twist it to try to get Vilenne cut out of the will…more for them.

Amanda returned with two checks. Vil handed her a platinum Visa for one, and a hundred dollar bill for the other. "My and my panther friends' dinners on the card, his dinner with the cash, please."

"Yes ma'am," Amanda said with a nod. "I'll be right back.

"Okay, bro, last chance. Is there any way I can convince you to come home?"

"Absolutely none," he stated adamantly.

She sighed. "Alright. You have the phone now, bro. Please, please, use it, okay?"

"Well, you have the number, so I'm sure you'll make sure to remind me when you think I'm not keeping in touch," he chuckled.

"You bet your furry butt I will," she grinned.

Amanda returned. Vil signed for the card, took the change, then pushed fifty of it back to the startled waitress. "Because you've earned every penny," Vil winked. "And here, take this and give it to the cook, for being so considerate to me," she added, handing her a twenty. "And give this to Sheila for being so kind to give me and my brother time." She handed her the other twenty, leaving nothing but pocket change in her paw.

"Ohmahgawd, thank you, miss Vil!" she said, then she ran excitedly back towards the kitchen, waving the bills in her hand. "She tipped us!" she squealed as she vanished into the kitchen.

Vil handed the box holding the steak to one of her guards, then picked up her briefcase and stood up. Kit too stood up, and he shared a long embrace with her. "You be good down here, bro," she told him. "And think about that cat. All I can say is don't leave. Find her. Chase her. See where it can go. Don't let the family deny you any chance at happiness."

"I'll, I'll give it serious thought, sis," he promised. He was always honest with Vil, no matter what.

She pushed back to look up at him, and patted his shoulders. "Well, I'm proud of you, Kitstrom Lucas Vulpan," she said with a grin. "And I'm proud to say that my brother washes dishes."

He laughed, then leaned forward and put his forehead against hers. "You always were a nut."

"That just proves we're related," she teased back. "I love ya, bro. I'll see you soon. Bye." She kissed him on the cheek, then turned and walked away. He watched her go around and to the entry foyer, and then her guards opened the door for her and escorted her out into the parking lot.

He sighed. He missed her. She was the only family he had, and thank God she had never given up on him.

He glanced around. Some of the customers were looking at him, and six faces were crowded into the doorway to the kitchen, staring at him with silly grins. "Kitstrom! Oh, Kitstrom! Wash dishes for me!" Sheila called loudly. "If it doesn't chafe your delicate, noble hands!"

His day manager ducked into the kitchen with a squeal when he threw a full napkin roll of silverware at her.

But the surreal day was over now. He pocketed the new phone and went back to work. There was still four hours on the clock, and he owed that and more to Sheila for being such a wonderful boss.

Outside, Vilenne Vulpan stood with Marcus as Stav brought the car around, putting her sunglasses back on. "Marcus," she said in a cool tone, as the business vixen in her began to reassert itself, now that she was back in public.

"Yes, madam?"

"I have a job for you. And it won't be easy."

"I thought you might, madam."

"Did you hear?"

"Yes, madam. It's not much to go on, but it's enough. Once I find the chinchilla named Sandy, I'll find this JD."

"It can't be obvious. If the family finds out–"

"I can do it all from my Boston office, madam. What I do on my own time is none of their concern."

"I'm glad you understand the situation. Just be discrete on this side as well. If Kit finds out I'm putting a paw in, he'll beat me up."

"We'd never allow that, madam," Marcus said with a slight smile.

"Remember, be discrete, but this is important. I only want to find her so I can be there in case he can't. We'll let him try first. If he can't find her, he might get discouraged and move on. I can't let him do that."

"I'll have a complete file on her by Tuesday. That is a guarantee, madam."

"There's an extra ten thousand added to your and Stav's quarterly bonus if you do."

"You've always been a generous employer, madam."

"It's how I keep you here."

"True," he agreed honestly.

Chapter 02