Chapter 10
It was a whirlwind of activity, fear, and anxiety for Kit.
After finding out about the lawsuit, Kit's life was turned upside down. The anxiety over the lawsuit just piled onto the excitement surrounding the wedding, which got closer with each passing day. Kit did his best to try to submerge himself into the preparations, but the lawsuit and all the ramifications surrounding it just intruded themselves into his life.
The first unpleasant action surrounding this news was warning everyone. He started with Jessie, then Lupe, then told the crew, rather grimly. They didn't quite think it was as bad as Kit made out, but they didn't know the press the way he did. He'd been blessed in that they'd not bothered him–or he'd not seen anything–since that one picture that appeared in the Enquirer. Either they saw no reason to keep pestering them after that picture, or he'd not noticed any photographers, since he didn't bother reading tabloids.
The second unpleasant action was telling Hannah and John. He wrote Hannah an email that explained what was going on, warned that there was a chance that they might be bothered by the press, and apologized about fifty times, in very humble terms, for visiting the troubles of his own family upon them.
The third unpleasant action was a justification of his warning. Kit and Jessie were leaving work a few days after learning about the lawsuit, on Saturday, when a vixen approached him with a male skunk who had a camera hanging from his neck. "Kitstrom Vulpan?" the vixen asked.
Kit took one look at the pair, took Jessie's paw, and shook his head. "No thank you, no comment, no way."
She gave a start, then laughed. "I guess you'd have enough experience to see us coming. You've already been interviewed?"
"I won't be," he told her. "I have nothing to do with that insanity, and I want no part of it. I just want to be left alone. You can put that in your report."
"What about you, miss? Care to comment for the Boston Herald?"
"I don't have anything to say either," she said shyly, hurrying past them and pulling in close to Kit as they walked away. "I hope that doesn't happen again," she told him nervously.
"That's a hollow dream," he sighed sourly. "They're just the first."
And they were. Kit had the foresight to hang a sign on the door that read NO COMMENT, don't even bother knocking, and he stuck to it. Sunday they were left alone, but on Monday, while Jessie was at school, three separate furs rang the doorbell that he didn't know. The first two were obviously TV reporters of some kind, and the third thought he was being clever by putting his finger over the peephole so he couldn't see who it was, and knocked and rang the doorbell incessantly. Kit retaliated by calling Lupe, who came over about five seconds after Kit told him what was going on. Kit heard the Chihuahua and whoever it was screaming at each other, as the unknown male voice kept yelling about freedom of the press and his First Amendment rights, until Kit heard Lupe threaten to let him tell the cops all about it when they came to arrest him for trespassing.
Jessie, however, didn't fare half as well. She was literally trembling when she unlocked the door and came in, and buried herself in his arms before she even took her backpack off. "Jess, what's wrong?" he asked, putting his paws on her shoulders.
She began to cry. "It was horrible!" she cried.
"What happened, pretty kitty?" he asked, bringing her over to the couch. He took her backpack off of her, and sat her down. She clung to him, her claws digging into him a little painfully.
It took him a while to calm her down enough to tell him. "A reporter followed me around after my education class," she told him. "He kept demanding I talk to him, but I wouldn't even look at him. Then he grabbed me," she sniffled, cringing. "He grabbed hold of my tail and wouldn't let me go until I started screaming. Some other students came and chased him away, but he came back after they walked me to the cafeteria. I tried to get away from him, but he kept getting in my way. When I went into the femme's room, he came in after me!"
"I hope you called the cops."
"I tried, but the reporter tried to take my phone away from me, so I kicked him in the groin and ran out."
Kit chuckled. "Well, I'm glad you left him something to remember you by."
"The cops arrested him. Someone else called them when he went into the girl's room after me."
"Good. I'm so sorry, my pretty kitty," he said sincerely "I'm so sorry that happened to you."
"I'm not giving you up, Kit," she told him, gripping him with her claws. "I was scared, but they're not going to scare me away from you. I love you so much, Kit."
"I love you too, Jess," he breathed, leaning his cheek against her head. "I want you to call Vanguard, pretty kitty. I don't want you going back to school without an escort."
"I will. I'll ask for someone to walk me to class and back."
Luckily, however, that kind of journalist seemed to be the exception rather than the rule. Kit declined three separate interview requests the next day, and Jessie told him that only one reporter tried to talk to her, someone from CNN, which she declined. "He was polite at least," she told him when the large bear that was from Vanguard walked her into the apartment and then took his leave. When I told him I wasn't going to talk about it, he just gave me his card and told me to call him if I change my mind."
"Yeah, I've got like seven cards so far, if you count the ones reporters left at the door yesterday," Kit growled. "I'm just glad our cell phones are being handled by Vil, so they can't track the numbers down."
"How long is this going to last?"
"Until they realize that we're not going to talk," he said with a sigh. "Maybe a week or two. They can't be too pushy or we'll never talk, unless they're like that guy that harassed you yesterday, who won't take no for an answer. I wonder if he was the same one that Lupe had to chase off the property."
"Probably. How did they find me at school?"
"Probably either hacked into your registrar or bribed one of them for your schedule," Kit grunted.
"It's almost scary how they can do that," she told him. "Do you think it's safe to ask Sam, Sandy, and Danny over?"
"Odds are they'll be approached if you do. If they already haven't been, that is."
"I'll warn them."
The threat of being exposed to the press didn't seem to bother them. Sandy brought them over in her car about half an hour later, which made Kit very glad. They knew Jessie well, and they quickly had her catting away and laughing as Kit cooked dinner and they looked at wedding dresses online, going to a couple of websites that Vil had messaged him on his Blackberry that morning. The rigors of the last couple of days were forgotten in the fantasy world of an impending bride.
"Oh wow, look at this one!" Jessie said in delight. "Isn't it beautiful?"
"It's very nice," Sandy agreed. "I love the–"
Jessie slapped her paw over Sandy's muzzle. "Not with him here!" she warned.
Kit laughed so hard he almost dropped the skillet.
Jessie and the femmes retreated back to the bedroom, leaving him alone in the front half of the house. He was cooking Italian meatballs and rice, but he'd already made up the meatballs the night before, so it was just a matter of browning them and adding in the sauce and spices, and boiling up the rice. His phone rang after a while, when he nearly had dinner ready, and the number on the display was Vil's. "Hey sis," he called as he opened the phone.
"Tomorrow after work, don't make any plans," she told him. "Jessie picked her dress. I've already bought a tux for you, so you're going to be fitted for them tomorrow."
"I figured she might have. She retreated into the bedroom a bit ago with her pack of friends while looking over dresses on some website."
"She picked a design from Wentshire's site, so they already have it reserved. They'll be coming to fit her for it tomorrow, and they'll take care of you while they're there. Got your Blackberry handy?"
"It's in the living room."
"I'm texting you an address for a dress shop that's agreed to host my people," she told him. "I need you two there tomorrow around six."
"How much is this dress?"
"Some number between one and two billion," she teased in reply, then she laughed.
"You know, eventually one of us is going to get tired of that line," Kit noted dryly.
"It's not like it has gold thread or anything," Vil chuckled. "So don't worry too much about it. It is gorgeous, though."
"You'd better not say anything about it or Jessie will kill you," Kit warned, then he sighed. "Well, I hope they don't follow us there."
"Who?"
"We've had several run-ins with the press the last two days, sis," he said wearily. "One reporter got arrested on campus for chasing Jessie into a bathroom."
"Oh, him," Vil said with a growl. "That made the news up here in Boston," she told him. "He's a gossip columnist for the Enquirer, one of those ambush reporters. Literary paparazzi."
"He scared Jessie so bad she broke down in tears when she got home. I had her call Vanguard to escort her today."
"Good move," she agreed. "I'll give them a call myself and ask them to tighten up a bit. They've been working in the background and have some very specific rules about interfering with your lives, but with you guys being bothered, I think I'd like them to be a little more active."
"I won't say no."
The dress did bring a little lightness to the tension in Kit's life. The next afternoon, they went to a large dress shop in north Austin called Brenda's, where a ten fur team of tailors met them and fitted them for their wedding clothes. They were efficient, thorough, and very friendly, putting them at ease, joking with them, even teasing Jessie a little by offering her to do her measurements naked with Kit in the room with her. She surprised Kit with her response, "oh, he's seen me naked before," she said brazenly, though her cheeks were a little ruffled. Jessie was usually extremely shy, she'd never say something like that most of the time. The fitting took about two hours, and when they were done, the tailors told them that they'd have the clothes made and ready for a final fitting in about a week. They made another appointment for next week, two days after the deposition, when the finished clothes would be brought down and they'd try them on so the tailors could make final alterations for the wedding next month.
The drive home, on the other hand, wasn't quite so nice. They were in Kit's Pathfinder, and it was totally clear to him after a minute that a white Expedition was following them. "Jess love, call Vanguard and ask them if they've got people following us. Cause someone is."
She nodded and took her phone out of her purse. "Hello, this is Jessie Williams. Yes, I'm okay, but do you have a guard with us? We're being followed. Is that our escort?" She looked at Kit and shook her head. "Umm, I don't know exactly. Where are we, Kit?"
"We're getting on the Mopac up near the mall," he told her. "We'll be going south and getting off at Guadalupe."
She relayed that, looking back, out the back window. "Okay. It's a, umm, Expedition. A white Expedition. No, I can't see the license. Okay. We will. Thank you very much." She closed the phone. "They told us to pull into the Wendy's there at the exit, they'll have a car waiting for us."
"Okay."
"He also said we should carry our camera with us and take pictures of the cars if we think they're following, that it'll help them track them down."
"We can do that."
They did as the security firm asked. When they exited off the Mopac Expressway, Kit pulled into the Wendy's, where a gray-painted sedan with the Vanguard logo emblazoned on its hood and both doors immediately pulled up into the space beside theirs. Another Vanguard car pulled out, and when the white Expedition slowed down as if to turn into the parking lot, then kept going, the second car pulled out in a squeal of tires and chased after it. The two vehicles sped off down Guadalupe, leaving Kit's Pathfinder and the first car. Kit rolled down his window, and a wolf in the passenger seat did the same. "We'll follow you home, Mister Vulpan," the wolf called.
"Thanks, guys, you're a lifesaver."
"You should consider allowing us to attach a guard with you at all times, Mister Vulpan."
"No, not yet. They're just reporters, after all. All they can do is harass us until you come chase them away."
The wolf chuckled. "We'll do our best, sir."
The security car escorted them safely home, and they waved to the two guards as they reached their front door.
"Well, that was a dose of reality to ruin an otherwise good time," Kit sighed as he closed and locked the door. He barely managed to take this things out of his pockets and put them in the dish on the coffee table when Jessie grabbed his paw and pulled him with her to the couch. "What?"
"I need a reason to want to cuddle?" she asked with a giggle, snuggling up with him. "I had a good time. I can't wait until you get to see my dress, my handsome fox."
"I can't wait to see it either, pretty kitty. Do you know what'll be more fun?"
"What?"
"Taking it off you," he said, running his paw up her side.
She shivered a little and immediately began to purr. "I'm surprised you're feeling frisky after they followed us home," she told him.
"Let's just say that I'm enjoying your attempt to comfort me," he chuckled.
"I have homework to do, and we have to cook dinner yet. But," she said, then she leaned up and wrapped her arms around his neck and shoulders and kissed him quite intimately.
Kit's prediction of two weeks seemed to be holding true. The worst of it was at work, since his work phone number was a matter of public record, as was his work email address, but the crew came through for him in marvelous fashion. Marty was the lead blocker for him, taking on the press with his usual melodramatic and funny flair. He'd banter with the reporters that called and the few that visited in person, distracting and engaging them, but being adamant about not allowing them to get past him. On the phone that was quite easy, since he had control of the phone system. In person, his control was more subtle, yet more profound. Marty acted like a pop diva, but he was very smart and had a very quick mind, able to challenge reporters on their level and manage to make them laugh and smile even as he thwarted them. Email for him was easy to handle, for after finding out it was from a reporter, he simply deleted it.
The attention did alter their daily habits. Kit and Jessie stayed home for the most part, only going out to go to work or school, where they knew exactly where they were going and had control over their environments. Their friends came to them rather than going out to see them, and those friends themselves were approached by reporters. But, to their delight and relief, every one of their friends joined the "no comment" bandwagon, saying nothing and being very firm about it.
As the days went by and the time of the deposition neared, he got more and more unsettled. Jessie was the anchor keeping him from having a nervous break, and all their friends seemed to come together and pitch in to try to keep him comfortable and calm. There was almost always someone over for a visit in the week before the deposition, be it one of the crew, Lupe, or one of Jessie's sorority sisters. Those gatherings also started something of a little interaction, too, he noticed. Sandy started becoming quite interested in Jeffrey when she broke up with her old boyfriend, and got even more interested when she found out he was unattached. Kit was a little surprised when Jeffrey asked Kit for Sandy's number. Sandy and Jeffrey wasn't the only interaction, but it was the most dramatic. Sam became very good friends with Mike, and Lilly started palling around with Danielle and the other Jessie on Friday nights as she did her research and rounds for the magazine.
But time marched on, and no matter how much he dreaded it, it came to be the Monday of the deposition.
He woke up two hours early and spent a good hour of it sitting on the couch, nervous and unhappy. But this had to be done, and he didn't have any choice. He's been subpoenaed, and if he didn't show up he'd get into legal trouble. Jessie came in wearing nothing but an oversized sleeping shirt, leaving her legs bare to midthigh, rubbing her eyes, and the shirt was only something she threw on to come out of the bedroom, since she slept nude with him, always joking that it made sure there wasn't anything in the way if they got frisky during the night. Jessie was very modest, she wouldn't even set foot out of her own bedroom without wearing something, but she was almost fearlessly bold around him… but that was one of her little adoring quirks. She was very modest, but she had no modesty at all around him. That made him love her even more, since it showed how completely comfortable she was with him. She wouldn't come out of the bedroom without clothes on in her own house, but she was the same femme that would drop her jeans and use the bathroom right in front of him. That was something she hadn't done with anyone else… but then again, Kit was the only person she'd ever slept with, so her complete ease around him wasn't really too much of a surprise.
"Morning, pretty kitty," he called. She came over to him, and instead of sitting down beside him, she instead climbed into his lap, straddling him, paws on his shoulders as she kissed him. He almost wished she hadn't done that. When she straddled him that way, it immediately put him in an erotic mood, because all the could think about was when they used that position during sex. He put his paws on her waist and caressed her sides gently, but couldn't resist sliding his paws down, pulling her shirt up, and grabbing two pawfuls of her gorgeous backside, which made her hum in their kiss.
"Do you want me to go with you, Kit?" she asked, for about the twentieth time since last night.
"I want to take you back into the bedroom and take this shirt off you," he said honestly, pulling on the tail of the shirt, lifting it all the way up to expose her fully to him. He leaned forward and kissed her on the upper chest, on a little cowlick of unsettled fur right on her sternum, then fondled what the lifted shirt revealed, the shirt falling back down over his paws.
"I'll be late for school if we do," she said with regret, leaning forward and nuzzling him. "How about this. After you get home and I get home from school, I give you everything you want," she cooed. "And I promise never to sit with you like this on the couch in the morning again," she giggled against his ear.
"That's about what did it," he admitted with a soft laugh. "When you sit like this, all I can think of is when we make love," he breathed in her ear. "It's a very similar view, just without this shirt in the way. Besides, no male on Earth could think straight with you sitting in his lap like this, especially when you're not wearing panties," he added.
She giggled again. "I'm sorry, love."
"Don't ever be sorry," he told her. "If you were sorry, how would I ever get my cheap looks and easy feels?"
She laughed. "Looks are free. Feels are gonna cost ya," she winked.
He squeezed her breasts, grinning at her. "And how much was that?"
"You'll find out tonight," she said with a throaty purr, whispered into his ear.
"Do you take Visa?"
She picked up the couch pillow and hit him over the head with it.
He truly appreciated Jessie's attempt to distract him and cheer him up, but reality interposed again. He dressed in a pair of black slacks and a dress shirt without tie, ate the breakfast Jessie cooked for him, drank his tea, saw Jessie off to school, and then steeled himself with a moment of quiet calm before picking his keys up and heading out.
The law office was only about two miles from home, only about nine blocks from work, so it didn't take him long to find it. It was a very large office, taking up the entire first floor of the office building in which it was located. A husky femme in a blue blazer was sitting behind the reception desk, her thick white fur combed to perfection. "May I help you?"
"Uh, I'm here for a deposition," he told her.
She looked at him, and when she looked him in the eye, she seemed to recognize him. "Oh! Yes, one moment, Mister Vulpan," she told him, picking up the phone. "Miss Kittimer, Mister Vulpan has arrived," she said into the phone. "It'll be just a moment. Would you like to sit down?" she offered as she hung up the phone.
"No thanks."
The vixen who'd come to his house before came through the door separating the reception area from the offices. She was wearing a black skirt and blazer, with a soft brown shirt rather than a white one beneath it, and her long hair was done in a curly style was held back from her face by barrettes and contained in the back by a comb. When she got close, he could smell a faint whiff of perfume about her. "Mister Vulpan," she said, offering her paw.
He took it and shook it firmly. "Call me Kit, I hate that name," he told her.
"Kit," she corrected. "Come with me, and I'll explain how this will work."
She led him into a paneled hallway lined with oil paintings of the furs working in the office, their names emblazoned under them, as well as doors. "This is going to be an open deposition," she told him as the passed her own painting, the title naming her as Dolores D. "Deedee" Kittimer. "The lawyers from all nine are present, and the representatives from each side will be in the conference room and will ask you whatever questions they wish. So you're looking at three sessions of questioning. The two petitioners in separate sessions, then the combined lawyers for the respondents."
"Not separately?"
"No, since you're a potential witness for each side of the case, they've decided to question you as units rather than individually. The lawyers for Misses Whitmore Vulpan will question you first, then the counsel for Miss Vulpan will question you. The way it'll work during the sessions is simple, Kit. They'll ask you questions, and you answer them. It's basically that simple. After either a break or lunch, depending on how long it takes, the counsels for the respondents will have their opportunity. We'll make sure you have any drinks or snacks you might want, and remember, you're not under arrest in there, so if you want to take a break for a few minutes, don't hesitate to ask."
"Thank you."
"I'll be sitting in on the deposition as an observer for the court of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts," she told him. "And since you didn't bring your own counsel, I'll seat an associate with you who can warn you if you're saying something that wouldn't be entirely wise."
"I don't need a lawyer, Miss Kittimer," he said dismissively.
"When it comes to this kind of a situation, I think you need legal counsel looking out for you, Kit," she urged. "One misspoken word might bring the threat of a lawsuit against you, and you do have the right not to answer certain questions. Do you know which questions those are?"
"Uh… no."
"Then you need counsel," she said simply. "Our firm has already been paid by the court, and you'll actually be doing us a favor, so I'll provide you with counsel at no charge. I'll seat one of our newest associates with you, who can defend your rights, and so he can get some practice. But don't let that worry you, he's actually quite a good lawyer. He's just lacking experience in the practical aspects of being a trial attorney."
"Well, if it's free, I'd be stupid to decline," he said honestly.
She laughed. "Spoken like a wise fur," she told him. She led him to a large area filled with low-walled cubicles, where most of the legal secretaries worked, he imagined, and the vixen waved over someone near a wall of doors, talking to a short badger wearing a thousand dollar suit. The one she waved over was a tall, thin male skunk with a very odd double white line between his eyes rather than a white patch common on some skunks. "Kit, this is Kevin Simmons, our newest associate. He'll keep the other sharks in line," she chuckled.
"It's good to meet you, Mister Vulpan," he said, offering his white-mittened paw. Kit shook it. "I promise to do my best to keep them from wandering into territory they have no business asking about."
"What kind of territory?" he asked curiously.
"Your impending marriage is off limits, for example," he answered. "That's your own personal business that has nothing to do with the case, though I have the feeling that the counsels are going to try to press you on it, since one of the petitioners is trying to get you back into the will. They also can't ask about your personal life. They have to limit their questions to facts pertaining to your past, your job, and they can only ask general questions about your personal life. For example, they can ask if you're getting married, but they can't ask to whom you're getting married. That has no bearing on the case at hand. If they try to get too personal, I'll make them back off."
"I'm starting to feel a little better about this," he said honestly.
"I'll do what I can to make this as painless for you as possible," Kevin promised.
He was led into a large conference room, where four furs stood up as they entered. Three male badgers and a female mouse, all wearing serious business suits. "We're from Graham, Graham, Graham, and Zychowski," the tallest and oldest of the badgers said by way of introduction. "Has our host explained the process of a deposition to you, Mister Vulpan?"
"They did."
"Very well, shall we get started?" he asked as the female mouse sat back down and opened a laptop computer before them.
And they did. The lawyers from his stepmother were polite, but they asked very personal and invasive questions about his past, his history with his father and family, and his life after he was disowned, focusing on the pattern of harassment he suffered after leaving home. The vixen and the skunk who were sitting in were quiet and attentive, and he thought that they really didn't have much to do with it, until the mouse asked him a question about Jessie. The skunk immediately put his paw over Kit's own and spoke up. "That's out of bounds, counsel," he said in a polite yet firm voice. "That has no bearing on the matter at hand."
"We disagree, counsel," she retorted. "His fiancée might have influenced his decision about this suit."
"What decision? I wanted no part of this," Kit said, rather pugnaciously. "I got dragged into this completely against my will."
"So, you have no desire to claim your share of six hundred million dollars?" the youngest of the three Graham brothers asked.
"My family can take that money and shove it up their–" he said, then blew out his breath. "No. I have no interest at all in the money, my family, or the will. I don't care one way or the other about this damned lawsuit. I just want it to go away so I can go back to my own life."
All three of them immediately started scribbling on the memo pads before them.
They didn't drift back into that area again. After another half hour or so, they wrapped up their questioning. All four took turns shaking his paw, and then they filed out. "It wasn't entirely wise to tell them you have no interest in the will," Kevin told him.
"It's the truth," he said simply. "I don't want any of the money."
"Yes, but that helps their case. They can argue that your sister's claim lacks merit because you don't want to be included in the will."
"I see my sister's been meddling again," he growled darkly.
Kevin gave him a curious look. "She hasn't called here, that would be improper. I just figured you'd be on your sister's side, given what I've read about the history of this case. She's been the only member of your family to stay in contact with you. I'm not the only one who thinks you want her to win the case."
"I want her to win the case, but I'm not happy about her bringing me into this," he answered honestly. "And I swore to tell the truth when we started. I won't lie, not even for Vil."
"There's the truth, and then there's the truth as presented that keeps you honest without delivering the complete details," he said with a chuckle.
"Spoken like a true lawyer."
"I gotta be what I gotta be," he grinned.
The lawyers for Vil were next. They were much more personable than Cybil's lawyers, but they were just as hawkish when it came to asking him questions. They questioned him for over an hour, focusing on many of the same things that Cybil's lawyers did, his history with his father, his treatment of him, and what happened after he was disowned. But where Cybil's lawyers inferred, Vil's lawyers came right out and asked him. "If Miss Vulpan was to win the case, what would you do, Mister Vulpan?" the tall jackal, named Terry Assad, asked. "After all, you'd be placed in control of your family's assets."
"Give it back to the family," he said immediately. "Hand it over to someone else and let them deal with it. I don't want the money. I just want to be left alone and go back to my life."
"Thank you, Mister Vulpan," the jackal said. "I think we're about done here."
"I think we can break for lunch now," Kittimer noted, looking at her watch.
"There's a pretty good Chinese place about a block from here," the skunk offered.
"I know, I order from there all the time," Kit chuckled. "My office is only about a mile from here."
"Well, feel like some company for lunch? We can discuss what's coming. As you've probably figured, the respondents are going to treat you as a hostile witness, so we can discuss what's coming."
"That's a good idea."
Kit decided he rather liked this Kevin Simmons. He was amiable, affable, and witty, but he was very intelligent and very observant. They ate lunch and Kevin explained what was coming, preparing him for dealing with much less friendly questioning, and Kit got to know the skunk and found him to be a very nice guy. "You know," Kit said as they walked back to the office, "I know someone that might love to meet you."
"How so?"
"My fiancée's best friend is pre-med, and you seem like just her type," he hinted.
Kevin laughed. "Are you sure we've known each other long enough for you to try to set me up on a date?" he asked.
"Eh, you're not bad for a lawyer."
"And you're not bad for a reporter," Kevin grinned.
"I'm not a reporter, I'm a researcher and writer," Kit challenged.
Kevin was right about the afternoon. They moved to a larger conference room, that was filled with sixteen lawyers representing the five uncles and two aunts that were opposing the suit. Kittimer, Kevin, and Kit sat down at the head of the table, the two lawyers flanking him, and they began.
The questions were detailed, invasive, and delivered like he was being cross-examined. Kevin repeatedly had to warn them off when they got too personal, when they started digging into business that had nothing to do with the matter at hand. They were blunt and forceful, and more than once they dropped questions on him that shocked him. When the attorney for his aunt Melissa got her turn, who grilled him over his relationship with his sister for nearly twenty minutes, suddenly asked, "are you in a sexual relationship with your sister?" That shocked Kit, angered Kevin, and almost got the little weasel of an attorney punched in the nose, had Kit been within reach of him. It certainly infuriated Kittimer, who threatened to eject the weasel if she didn't keep his mouth in line. "You can't do that," the femme weasel said smugly.
"I am acting as the direct representative of the court of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts," she said in an icy tone. "If you don't think I can't throw you out of here, then have your state's bar drag you into a disciplinary hearing, then try me."
The weasel backed off at that point, but did question Kit about his relationship with his sister for nearly a half an hour longer.
They went right down the line. They questioned him for four hours, and then they took a half hour break for something to eat, where Kit called Jessie and told him they were running late. After the break, he was questioned for another hour and a half, until the last lawyer finally got his chance and questioned him for nearly twenty minutes. The last question the stag asked startled Kit, but not in a bad way. "Is it true that you have no active interest in this suit?" he asked, the one question none of the others had asked him. They'd probably agreed to only ask it once, at the end. "That you're not actively engaged in your sister's suit to restore the original will that gives you executorship of the estate?"
"That's right," he said. "The first I'd heard about it was when I was given the subpoena to be here today. I had no part of it."
"I see. If your sister and your stepmother lose, what will you do?"
"Nothing," he answered.
"And if one of them wins?"
"Nothing. Well, if my sister wins, I'll just give the money back to the family. I don't want it. I just want to be left alone and live my own life, away from them, and away from all the insanity that surrounds them."
"So, if you win, you won't hand the family fortune over to your sister?"
"I'd have her help me deal with it, if only because she's the only member of the family I trust. As I'm sure all of you know, someone tried to kill me, and I think it was one of my uncles that arranged it. So I wouldn't hand over the family fortune to someone I think might have tried to have me killed."
"You realize that's an unsubstantiated accusation," one of the other lawyers said immediately.
"I know, but that doesn't change how I feel about it," he answered immediately. "Someone sure as hell hired a hitman to try to kill me. And given my history with my family, my family's purist sympathies, and my current fiancée, it's not much of a stretch for me to suspect any one of them."
"So you admit you can't be an impartial executor?" the lawyer asked. "That you're biased against my client and the other respondents?"
"My bias has nothing to do with money," he snorted. "Are you asking what I'd do if my sister won? That's easy. I'd bring the entire family together and make them sign a pledge stating that if they ever interfere with me, badger me, pester me, or try to harass me, my fiancée, or her family, they forfeit their money. Once they sign, they receive an equal share of the family fortune. I'll give it all back to them, and I won't take a single bloody penny of it. I don't want the money. I just want to be free of them and live my own life."
"And the shipyards and other businesses?"
"I'd give it back to Vil–Vilenne. Dad gave it to Vil before he died, and the board recognizes her as the heir."
"I see. Thank you, Mister Vulpan. I believe I'm done."
Kit left the conference room as the lawyers all conferred with each other, Kevin just behind him. "I'm surprised you'd make a declaration like that. You'd really just give it all away without taking a cent?"
"Money is a curse," he said with sincere conviction. "It's a curse I want no part of. It destroys people, Mister Simmons. I won't let it destroy me."
"I guess you have reasons for thinking that way," he mused. "And you can call me Kevin."
"Kevin. Say, do you play poker?" he asked.
Kevin laughed. "I've been known to do so from time to time. Why, you have an offer?"
"I play poker on Sundays with my landlord and some guys from my complex. We have an empty chair."
"That sounds like fun. I'm in, as long as it's not high stakes."
Kit laughed. "Not if you consider a pot of eighty cents to be too rich for your blood. We play using pennies, nickels, and dimes. So bring two dollar's worth with you. Two bucks is the buy-in, and we play every Sunday until someone wins it all, but we don't go any later than eight. If nobody's won by eight, we all go all-in and play the last hand sudden death showdown style. The winner uses the cash to buy the beer for the next game, and we start over the next week."
"Okay, now that sounds like fun," Kevin grinned.
"Then come on over. We start around four."
In all, he was relieved beyond measure when he got home. He flopped down on the couch and blew out his breath, and pulled out his phone to call Jessie. "Hello?" she called.
"Hey pretty kitty. I'm home."
"How bad was it?"
"It wasn't fun. But it's over now."
"Do you have to go back?" she asked.
"No, I'm basically done unless I'm called as a witness for the trial… which I probably will," he sighed. "Where are you?"
"I'm over at the sorority," she answered. "Want me to come home?"
"You have a promise to keep," he said teasingly.
"So I do," she said enticingly into the phone. "I'll be right home."
When she got home, he made sure she lived up to her promise that morning. She certainly didn't object. She showed him again why he loved her so much, for she could sense what he needed, and gave it to him… in this case, a wild romp in bed to take his mind off the weighty issues and stresses of the day. Jessie was the best therapy around. When they were done, Kit laying atop her, Jessie slid her paws across the scars on the small of his back as she purred her contentment, which sounded a little funny because she was still a little out of breath. She sounded like a sputtering chainsaw, which made him laugh.
"What?" she demanded.
"You shouldn't purr when you're out of breath," he teased, nuzzling her neck.
She giggled. "I can't help it," she admitted. "So, feel better now, my handsome fox?"
"You know it," he breathed, rising up on his elbows and kissing her muzzle. "Someday, I'm gonna convince you to let me take some pictures of this gorgeous body."
She laughed. "I'll tell you what. You can take them, but not 'til the reporters all go away. If someone could hack U.T. to get my schedule, then they might try to hack our own computers. I don't want to find naked pictures of me on the front page of some tabloid. Until then, you'll have to settle for looking at the real thing."
He chuckled. "It's a deal. The real thing is better anyway."
"How was it at the lawyer?"
"I got grilled," he grunted in reply, moving to slide off her, but ten claws dug into his back and instantly disabused him of that notion. Kit thought it it was very curious that Jessie had five fingers on her paws, but only four toes on each foot… but that was normal for cats, she'd told him.
"Where do you think you're going?" she asked with a grin, though he couldn't see it since they were literally nose to nose.
"Getting off your ribcage so you can breathe, maybe?" he chuckled in reply.
"You're not that heavy," she told him. "What kind of questions did they ask?"
"You name it, they asked it," he said. "There was like twenty-five lawyers there asking me questions."
"That many? Woah," she breathed. "I'd have been so nervous I woulda thrown up."
"That's one reason why I'm glad you didn't go," he said. "I don't want any part of my screwed up life encroaching on yours, my pretty kitty. As far as I'm concerned, I've done enough damage just from you being with me."
"Don't you worry about me, my handsome fox. I won't let them push me away. I've got my claws in you now, and I'm not ever letting go."
"Good, cause I won't let you get away," he hummed, nuzzling her. "I did tell them the one thing they probably all wanted to hear."
"What, that you don't want the money?"
"Yeah. I made that clear right up front, in all three sessions."
"Sessions?"
"They broke it up into three questioning sessions, with each side in the case. Vil's people, my stepmother's people, and the lawyers for the rest of my family. Since each side wanted to ask me different things, but the lawyers working on each side were working for the same goal, they just set it up that way so I didn't have to talk to each lawyer separately. That woulda taken like five days."
"You've never really talked much about your stepmother."
"I only saw her once in person, at the funeral," he shrugged. "I was out of the house before my father remarried. He only married her for her family and so he had a wife for appearances. He didn't love her, and she didn't particularly care about him. It was more of a business arrangement than anything." Kit chuckled. "Vil absolutely hates her. She said she's a shallow, vain, conceited bitch. But she has the bloodline," he grunted. "She's from British aristocracy."
"How is she going to get your family fortune? Didn't she sign a prenuptial agreement?"
"Yeah, but she thinks she can get around it."
"What do you think will happen?"
"I really don't know. Either way, I don't really care. I just want them to leave us alone."
"Well, there's one thing I do want if your sister wins, since you'll have control of the money."
"What?" he asked suspiciously.
"A scholarship trust fund for our babies, so they don't have to worry about college."
"Hmm. Now that I think I wouldn't object to," he mused after thinking a moment. "Thinking ahead, are we?"
"You know I am," she said, kissing his throat. "I hope we have a baby before our first anniversary."
"I'd love it, but I'm a little worried about that," he said honestly. "If you have a baby, how's that going to affect your school? It's going to be hard to graduate."
"I'll find a way, my handsome fox. I want my degree, but I want to be a mother even more." She kissed his nose. "I wonder what our children will look like."
"They'll be beautiful," he said simply. "So, can I get up now?"
She nipped lightly at his muzzle. "Maybe."
"I must need more practice if you're still frisky after that," he chuckled.
"Practice? Heavens no," she giggled. "I'm just getting my second wind, that's all. Besides, you just had the 'I want to forget today' session, now I have to start working on the 'I'm sorry about Thanksgiving before it happens' sessions."
Kit exploded into laughter, dropping his head on her shoulder. "You're giving me apology sex before it even happens? You're not instilling me with confidence, pretty kitty."
"I'm going to still be giving you apology sex a month after our first anniversary," she said ruefully. "So, up for a little pre-emptive apology?"
"Can I ever say no to you?"
"Not when I know where your on switch is," she said, and she started to purr.
Jessie's little present to him reminded him that Thanksgiving was only a week or so away.
After telling everyone about the lawyer, Kit told the crew about his trip, and everyone buckled down to get the magazine put to bed. They had to finish next week's issue a day early, since everyone would be off on Thursday, but the good part of that was that since it was Thanksgiving week, it was going to be rather light. Their plan was to get more done than usual on the week before, so they could skip Thursday without causing any undue problems. This basically meant that everyone was going to give up a part one of their normal days off. The writers would be working half a day on Monday, and the others would be working half a day on Saturday. Nobody worked on Sunday in Rick's outfit, since Sunday was the day Rick went to church.
The issues with the press, however, didn't calm down after the deposition. Kit continued to stonewall the numerous attempts they made to get an interview, briskly brushing past several newscrews that tried to stop him outside, as Vanguard kept a car near the apartment to chase off any news vans or reporters that tried to come to their apartment, once their address became common knowledge to the news organizations. Jessie kept a guard with her any time she went out alone, who kept all reporters away with a kind word but a stern warning that Miss Williams had no comment. Kit kept telling himself he was going to kiss Vil every time Jessie came home with a smile instead of tears, because the guard was keeping them away from her.
Kit was busy all week, but Jessie was even busier. She was leaving for Cincinnati on Saturday, on a morning flight out of Bergstrom, and she was making sure to stock up on a week's worth of affection before she left. When she wasn't kissing him, touching him, nuzzling him, cuddling with him, or luring him into the bedroom, she was doing two major projects that were due on Friday. Sam and Sandy came over every night, and Kit did his own bit of matchmaking by quietly hinting that Sam needed to come over the next Sunday both he and Jessie were home, that he had someone he wanted her to meet.
His relief that the questioning was over made the time fly, until he was waking up on Saturday morning to the sound of Jessie in the shower, her suitcase packed and sitting by the door. He scrubbed his face and got up, then wandered to the bathroom himself to relieve himself. "Kit?" she called when he lifted the seat.
"Yeah hon?" he asked.
She looked out from the shower. "I was about to wake you up."
"I'm up. How much time do we have? I didn't look at the clock."
"About three hours," she answered, turning off the water. She opened the curtain and started using her paw to strip the water out of her fur, and he flinched when she flicked it at him with a giggle.
"You make me miss and you're cleaning it up," he warned.
She laughed as she pulled the towel off the rack and started scrubbing at her fur to dry it. "What I wouldn't give for one of those full-body fur dryers," she sighed.
"This is an old apartment."
"We should save for one of those portable ones. We can set it up in the corner of the bedroom," she said.
"That's an idea," he nodded as he finished up. He helped her out of the tub, then took the other towel and helped her scrub most of the water out of her fur and hair. "You got your coat ready?"
"Yeah, it's on the couch," she told him. "I checked the weather, and it looks like it's going to be messy. They're calling for snow. That's rare in Cincinnati this time of year. I'm gonna miss Austin by tomorrow," she laughed.
"How cold does it get here in the winter?"
"Sometimes it can get cold, but the daytime isn't bad. Like the fifties," she told him. "Last winter we had a stretch where it was below freezing for almost a week."
"That's nothing like Boston," he chuckled. "Usually it goes below freezing in November and doesn't get back above it until April."
She turned around and kissed him on the muzzle and cheek. "I'm gonna feel all musty," she complained. "But I gotta get dressed. The airline said we should be there two hours before my plane leaves so I can get through security." She looped her arms around his neck and kissed him lingeringly. "Mmmm, God I'm going to miss you," she hummed as she nuzzled him.
"Baby."
"Mmm?"
"I don't think necking naked in the bathroom is getting you ready to go."
"Spoilsport."
"If I don't get you home, your parents will kill me."
"Five days without touching you," she said longingly, sliding her paws down his back, then grabbing two healthy pawfuls of his backside as she nuzzled his neck.
"You'll live," he chuckled. "I'm the one that's going to be alone until I fly up. You'll be home."
"Fighting with Mom," she sighed, grabbing the base of his tail with one of her paws while the other caressed the scarred area of his back. Even now, months after they'd become intimate, she couldn't keep her paws off his scarred lower back.
"Company is company," he chuckled. "Now let's get dressed before you make me all musty too."
She laughed and grabbed hold of him tightly, pressing her damp fur against his front. "If I have to be musty, so do you," she teased.
"Stop that, young lady," he laughed, grabbing hold of her, picking her up off her feet, and swinging her around. She laughed as he walked them out of the bathroom and towards the bedroom. "Now then, you little brat, let's get you ready to go!"
They dressed, and while Kit put her suitcase and coat in the car, Jessie wolfed down a breakfast of toast and orange slices. He doublechecked to make sure they had everything, and went through the checklist as she put on a pair of fur-topped boots. "Purse ready?"
"Got my keys, credit card, phone, and cash in it."
"Plane ticket?"
"In my purse."
"Phone?"
"Charged and in my purse, and the charger's in my suitcase."
"Laptop?"
"In my backpack. I have the charger in my suitcase."
"Cameras?"
"Camcorder's in the suitcase, camera's in my backpack. And yes, I have extra memory cards."
"Books?"
"Backpack."
"Ipod?"
"Backpack, charging base is in my suitcase."
"Toiletries?"
"Suitcase. Did you find out what it'll take when I change my name?"
"A copy of your marriage license, birth certificate, social security card, and your driver's license," he answered. "We have an appointment on December fifth for the blood test for the license, so don't make any plans that day."
"This isn't a good time to tell me something like that," she laughed as she pulled on her other boot, then stood up and shuffled her feet a little. "I hate shoes," she complained.
"I'm not fond of them either, but it'll be cold in Cincinnati."
"You don't have claws on your feet."
"You got me there. You could always go without them, but cold and wet are a bad combination."
"I know," she sighed. "I'm not really used to them now. I don't think I've worn shoes since last winter."
"They're a lot more common in Boston. Vil always wears shoes. She's used to it."
"Remember to buy a pair of winter shoes before you come up," she told him.
"I'm going right after work. You know, there are a few places up in Boston that won't let you in if you're not wearing shoes."
"Really?" she asked in surprise.
He nodded. "It's how they keep tourists out. Most of them don't pack shoes when they visit in the summer."
"I guess that's one way to do it," she giggled as she picked up her purse and looked inside it. "You about ready to go?"
"Yeah."
He carried her backpack out to the car, helped her into the passenger seat, locked the house up, then climbed in and started the Pathfinder. It was only about twenty minutes to Bergstrom, which used to be an Air Force base before it was changed into a civilian airport. Kit parked in a short term lot near the terminal and carried Jessie's suitcase for her as they filed in. She led them through the sparsely populated terminal to the United counter, and an attendant checked her suitcase and directed them to the gate from which her plane would leave. They didn't have much trouble, at least until they reached security. Jessie seemed a little annoyed when they wouldn't let Kit through, taking his paw and leading him back a ways as a family came up behind them.
"We still have two hours," she complained. "I don't want to wait without you."
"Let's talk to security and see how long it'll take for you to get through since it's not busy, and we can go grab a cup of tea at that restaurant."
"Okay."
It turned out that they promised to get her through in about twenty minutes, so they had a cup of tea at the Dunkin' Donuts that was in the main terminal. Jessie bought a USA Today and leafed through it, holding his paw as he sat watching the TV hung from a mount in the corner of the restaurant. They were quiet, but the grip she had on his paw told him how reluctant she was to leave him. He just kept hold of her paw, and then urged her to get up. He packed her paper in her backpack, and deliberately started leading her back to the security gate.
"I hate this," she sighed when they reached it.
"I'll be fine, my pretty kitty," he chuckled, leaning over and nuzzling her neck.
"I miss you already," she said in a poignant voice. "I never thought I'd feel like this before I even leave!"
He kissed her tenderly. "It just shows me how much I love you," he told her. "I feel the same way, but I know we'll see each other in five days. It'll just feel like forever," he grunted.
"Five days alone in bed," she groaned. "I don't if I can get to sleep without you there with me."
"I know the feeling. But let's get you going, pretty kitty. Call me when you get to Cincinnati."
"As soon as I can," she affirmed, kissing him so hard that he almost felt his knees unlock. He gave her her backpack, kissed the back of her paw, and then shooed her towards the checkpoint. "Did you test that videoconferencing program?"
He nodded. "It works. I have it all set up, and I can walk you through the connection steps on the phone when you use it the first time."
"At least I'll be able to see you," she sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder a moment.
"You have to go, Jess, or you'll miss your plane before you get through security."
She sighed. "Alright. Drive carefully when you go home. I'll see you on the computer tonight."
"Be good, pretty kitty. I love you."
"I love you, my handsome fox," she said, giving him one more longing look, then turning and filing into the checkpoint, around a corner, and out of sight.
He sighed. Five days without her. He wasn't sure how he was going to survive it.
Kit thought that the time after he was disowned was the closest thing to hell on earth. Nothing could describe the sense of total fear and confusion that came when a rich kid who had never so much as made toast for himself was suddenly thrown out onto the hard, cold streets with no money, no possessions, no home, and no idea what real life was like for normal people.
He discovered that true hell was being separated from the femme he loved.
Talking on the phone just didn't fill the void. She wasn't there. He couldn't reach out and touch her, and cuddle with her. She wasn't there to tease him when he cooked, or make that silly face when he talked about hockey, or watch her jump up and cheer when her Bengals scored a touchdown. She wasn't there to make fun of for her preference for corny teen-femme pop music, or to feel her run her fingers along the scars on his back in her ritual, so well she knew them she could trace every white line without looking at them. He missed her sitting at the table doing her homework while he practiced the guitar, watching her pretty face screw up in a mask of intense concentration as she took up knitting again, something her mother had taught her but she hadn't done in years, since she was a little girl.
He missed every part of her and life with her.
There was only one thing to do about it. Write it out.
He sat at home that night, after talking to her on the videoconferencing program for two hours, and sat at the desktop with his favorite classical music playing, the score to Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker ballet. He stared at the word processor window for nearly ten minutes, then he began. He wrote a letter about how it felt to be separated from her, describing it in stark, somber tones, trying to capture the essence of what he was feeling into words. He spent four pages trying to capture that essence, but never felt quite like he'd managed it. But, as was his custom, he copied it into an email and sent it to Hannah, continuing their practice of emails where he told her how he felt, and she kept trying to convince him to break off the engagement.
He spent that night laying in bed staring at the ceiling for most of the night. It felt… wrong, not having Jessie sleeping beside him. He just couldn't relax, couldn't rest. Every time he started feeling sleepy, he'd reach out and find the other side of the bed empty, and that would just start the cycle again. The only solace he found was at three in the morning, when the phone rang. He didn't even have to look at the number on the display. "Can't sleep?" he asked when he opened the phone.
"No," Jessie said morosely. "You're not here with me. I don't know what to do, I can't rest."
"I know."
"Sing me a lullaby, Kit. I can't get to sleep without you here."
He chuckled and did just that, singing Rock-a-bye Baby to her. When he finished, he could hear her breathing on the other end, but she made no other sounds.
She'd fallen asleep.
Kit spent almost half an hour just listening to her breathing, and it was that music that lulled him to sleep himself.
Work did help. He had no reason to go home, so he hung around work well after quitting time, knocking out just about every project on his schedule for next week's issue, working until nearly ten that night. Jessie called him at ten, and he stayed on the phone with her as he locked up, drove home, and sat on the couch drinking more wine than was entirely good for him. She was falling asleep at two in the morning, and he urged her to hang up the phone this time so she didn't drain the battery, instead having her use the videoconferencing software. She put the computer on her dresser and angled the monitor so the camera got a view of her bedroom. Her parents hadn't changed anything in it since she left, so it looked like a high school femme's room. It had older, sturdy cherrywood furniture, a queen size bed, and posters of music bands on the walls, along with a collection of unicorn figurines on a bookshelf on the other side of the bed. He watched her climb into bed, her beautiful eyes looking at the laptop, then closed her eyes when he again sang her a lullaby.
Sunday… well, Sunday sucked. Jessie was busy with her family, so Kit was trapped in the house due to the fact that he didn't want to be chased around by determined reporters. Lupe and Dan came over and watched football with him, then they played poker after the first game with the second game on the TV.
Kevin made good on his promise to come play. He called around five to get directions, and showed up about twenty minutes later. He showed up wearing jeans and a Dallas Cowboys tee shirt, and that got him immediate high praise from Lupe and Dan. Kit's first impression of Kevin was totally justified, for Kit found him to be intelligent, funny, good-natured, and quite friendly. He struck up quick friendships with Lupe and Dan as well as himself, and lost in his first outing against the boys in poker with humor and dignity. "Well, y'all busted my poker cherry quick," he lamented with a grin as he tossed down his losing hand.
"You better hope that Dan don't win, he always buys that crappy Milwaukee's Best," Lupe said sourly.
"It may be crappy, but it's cheap," Dan laughed. "Does it matter how it tastes as long as it gets us buzzed?"
"Well, I'll have to bring some Mountain Dew," Kevin chuckled. "I'm driving home, so I can't be going crazy."
"Where do you live?"
"Just outside Austin, near Pflugerville," he answered. "I got an apartment up there. I haven't been working at the firm long enough to save up a down payment on a house."
"Hey brah, you shoulda came here, I got units open," Lupe told him. "And I make deals for guys who don't trash my apartments."
"Deals?"
"I gave Kit a break on the rent cause he's not a party jock," Lupe chuckled.
"Ah, well, I needed a furnished apartment, and what I got isn't too bad. It has a pool and some other perks."
"Ah. I can't compete with that. The only thing these old units can say is they have washer dryer hookups," he chuckled.
There was a knock on the door, and it opened before Kit could say anything. Sandy peeked in. "Kit!" she called.
"Jessie's in Cincinnati, Sandy, remember?" he said.
"We know that, goofy," she laughed, opening the door. Jeffrey and Sam were with her. "We promised her we wouldn't let you sit around alone!"
"Sandy, it's poker time."
"And you keep on playing while I cook!" she announced.
"Uh, is it really okay for us to come over, Kit?" Jeffrey asked.
"I don't mind, come on in," he said. "Oh, Sandy, Sam, Jeffrey, this is Kevin. He works at the law firm that hosted the deposition."
"Hey, how you all doing?" he asked, waving to them as they came into the living room. Kit noted, with a little satisfaction, that he was looking right at Sam, and Sam was looking right back at him.
"Ah, so you're a lawyer, are ya?" Sandy grinned as she went past them and into the kitchen.
"Afraid so," he chuckled. "At my first job out of law school, which is little more than being a glorified gopher."
"We all have to start somewhere," Sam said with a slight smile as Dan dealt out the cards. "You know, you've never asked us to play."
"Hell, Sam, put down your two bucks and pull up a chair," Lupe laughed. "We don't discriminate."
"We'll take anyone's money," Dan agreed with a chuckle.
"Oh no you don't! We promised Jessie to cook Kit a meal so he wouldn't pine!" Sandy protested.
"Pizza Hut," she said simply, which made Sandy and Jeffrey both laugh.
"I can't object to that. So, who wants to teach me how you play this game, and lend me two bucks?"
"Hell, let's just start over, since Kevin's already been knocked out," Lupe offered. "Let's count it all back out so us starters have our two bucks again."
"Note he offered that when he's winning," Dan said with a laugh to Kit. "That's noble of him, eh?"
"If he was losing, we'd just accuse him of trying to cheat," Kit grinned in reply.
The three of them bought into the game, and after Lupe went and fetched a couple of chairs from his show unit, they had a very fun couple of hours sitting around playing poker, drinking beer, eating pizza, and having a good time. They almost made him forget that Jessie was in Ohio, but he kept expecting her to come out of the kitchen and tease them for playing poker, since she wasn't too fond of the game. Kevin fit in perfectly with his other friends, and by eight, when it was time for the showdown hand between Sam, Lupe, and Kit–Sandy, Jeffrey, Kevin, and Dan were knocked out–Lupe dealt out their hand of Showdown, five cards dealt face up one round at a time.
"Where did you learn how to play poker, Sam?" Sandy asked, eyeing her sizable pile of change. Sam was the second highest at the table, only a little behind Lupe. "You're pretty good!"
"My dad was a professional poker player," she said modestly.
Lupe gave her a look. "Your dad is Black Jack Mickleson?"
She laughed ruefully. "Yeah, that's him," she admitted. "He retired from poker last year, though. How did you know about him?"
"I saw him on one of those poker shows," Lupe said as he dealt out the third round. "They said he was one of the big winners, that he'd won that big competition in the past."
"That's why he retired," she said with a shy smile. "He won the World Series of Poker five years ago, and decided to hang it up when it got so popular and all the new people started flooding in. He decided to chase his other dream while he still had the energy to do it. He opened a bar."
Lupe laughed. "A man after my own heart!" he exclaimed as he dealt out the fourth round. "Where is the bar at?"
"My mom and dad moved to Florida after I started college. He opened his bar in Jacksonville," she answered. "They always did like it there."
Lupe dealt out the last round, and Sam gave a wicked little chuckle when she won with a pair of kings. "Now remember, Sammy, next week you buy the beer," Lupe told her. "Just don't buy Milwaukee's Best!"
"Beer hater," Dan chuckled. "Alright, let's get this place cleaned up."
They all got up and started cleaning up beer bottles and pizza boxes, but left the money on the table. Once the table was cleaned of everything but the cash, Sam pointed at it. "Can you just put that in a jar somewhere Kit? I'll just leave it here. That way we always have change around if we want to play."
"No problem, Sam," he told her.
"Don't think that gets you out of beer buying duty next Sunday," Dan said teasingly as Sandy dropped several cans into the trash bag he was holding open.
"I'll have my Dad ship us something," she told them. "He gets a bunch of imported stuff from Europe. Want to try some German lager?"
"You just became my best friend, Sam!" Lupe laughed.
"I didn't know you could ship alcohol," Kit mused.
"You can if you use the right shipping company," Sam smiled.
"Well, you're full of surprises," Kevin told her. "A premed student who can whoop the lot of us at poker and knows more about beer than most males?"
She laughed. "You should know all about it."
He chuckled. "Hey, the family is just from Europe. I was born in Delaware."
"Huh?" Lupe asked.
"He's a European skunk," Sam told them. "I'm indigenous."
"Indigenous? So, your breed met the boat, eh?" Dan asked with a smile.
"You could say that," Sam said mildly. "So did his. They went back on it."
"Huh?" Lupe asked.
"Back then, the colonization didn't go just one way," Kevin explained. "Some American breeds went to Europe. My family was part of a group that colonized Britain while the British foxes were colonizing New England," Kevin chuckled. "So, we came to be known as European skunks. We even developed this," he said, tapping the double white lines between his eyes.
"I've never met an American breed that calls themselves indigenous before," Dan noted.
"There's really not too many of us who can say that," she answered. "There's only a handful of truly indigenous North American breeds. Raccoons, prairie dogs, coyotes, cougars, bison, that's really about all I can think of. Some, like us, we have cousin breeds on other continents, though skunks came from here first," she chuckled.
"That's really interesting," Sandy said. "I didn't know that. I just know my family came up here from Chile just before the Great Depression, we were part of a group of Chilean and Argentinean chinchillas that came north and settled in Texas and Oklahoma after the corn blight of twenty-four. My grandpa used to talk about it all the time."
"What's your last name?" Dan asked.
"Lopez," she ginned. "Just like Jennifer," she said, striking model's pose.
"Speak Spanish?" he asked curiously.
"Si, si," she grinned. "Our grandparents and parents taught us when we were kids. That's an advantage around here."
"She was our lifeline when we went to Mexico last spring break," Sam laughed.
"I wonder what it was like for your family to move to England," Lupe said to Kevin. "That musta been hella culture shock."
"I guess it wasn't all that great, since my grandfather moved back to America," Kevin answered with a grin.
"Well, I can't say much," Dan chuckled. "The most I know of my family is we came from Atlanta."
"We came from Mexico, brah," Lupe grinned. Sandy chattered at him in flawless Spanish, and Lupe grinned and answered her.
"Well, now that I've had my biology, anthropology, and history lessons for today, in addition to losing two dollars to a pretty poker shark, I gotta get going," Kevin grinned. "I have a lot of work coming up. Thanks for the invite guys, I had a great time."
"Hey brah, feel free to come back!" Lupe said, and Dan nodded in agreement. "Next week we'll probably play over at my place, since Mickey'll be back from Louisiana. I got a bigger table. And you gotta come back, Sammy," he grinned. "You owe us beer!"
"I'll be back. Will Jessie be back next Sunday?"
Kit nodded. "I pick her up from the airport at noon," he answered.
Kevin shook paws with everyone, then said his goodbyes and started on his way home. "We gotta go too, I have some homework to finish," Sandy said. "Don't tell Jessie we ordered pizza or she'll kill us," she laughed. "We were supposed to cook for you."
"Now I know what to say when I need a favor," Kit noted.
Sandy and Sam went back to their house, and Dan and Lupe took the trash out for him on the way out. He sighed and sat down on the couch, turned off the TV, and missed Jessie all over again.
He had a little easier time of it that night. Jessie called him, they talked over the computer, and he again left it running in his room so she could look at her monitor and see him sleeping, and he could do the same. It wasn't the same as her being home, but it was something.
Hannah was already driving her crazy. Jessie wasn't lying about the fights, for they'd already had two doozies, both of them over the wedding. Hannah could admit that he loved her, and she loved him, but she was still opposed to the idea of them getting married. And her attempts to be civil about it evaporated when she had Jessie right there under her roof, where Jessie couldn't just hang up on her to end the conversation. Jessie complained about it on Monday night, threatening to un-invite her mother to the wedding, but Kit talked her out of it. "Just stand your ground, love," he told her. "Remember, come Sunday, you'll be back home, and you'll be able to hang up on her again."
"Come Wednesday, you'll be here," she purred, giving him a sultry look.
He laughed. "Baby, if you think your mom's bad now, just try to get frisky with me in her house."
"Oh, go ahead, ruin my fantasy," she said, giving him a pouty look.
"That fantasy could turn into a nightmare pretty quick."
"We'll see."
"Jessie," he said warningly. "I won't be party to murder."
"Huh?"
"If your mom caught us, she'd die on the spot. Then we'd be begging the judge for adjoining prisons."
She exploded into laughter.
He was getting a little used to her not being there. On Monday night, he actually slept more than five hours, and Tuesday he was busy with getting ready to go. He packed a single carry-on for the trip holding a single change of clothes, his laptop, and a couple of books. He put it by the door and picked it up on his way out on Wednesday, told Lupe he'd be back on Friday and warned him that Rick would be there that evening to pick up Jessie's car to take with him back to his house while Kit was in Ohio, then got in his car quickly when he saw a reporter moving towards him and pulled out before she could so much as get a microphone ready.
He'd been working overtime every night since Jessie left, so he really didn't have much to do. He spent most of the day in his tiny office, looking at the clock every ten minutes and waiting anxiously. He'd see Jessie tonight. He'd be able to kiss her, hold her in his arms, smell her hair and fur, feel her fingers tracing the lines of the scars on his back. And, he had to admit, he was very curious, almost excited, to meet Jessie's family. Hannah was a paradox to him, a hostile stepmother who had a rich and enigmatic history, who had a story he was dying to hear but wasn't allowed to pursue. He wanted to meet her mild-mannered father who was a gun fanatic, her good-natured brother who was a football player, and her Barbie-doll cute sister that Jessie said had the mouth of a drunken sailor and a less than traditional personality… which was Jessie "nice-speak" for the fact that Jenny acted out against her parents once she left home by indulging in everything they forbade her when she was there. Jenny was a party girl at Ohio State, and was nowhere near as shy and demure as Jessie was.
Rick took pity on him. He sent him out on some errands, talking to some advertisers, keeping him busy until three. At three, they had their staff meeting and put the issue to bed, and then it was time for Kit to go.
Rick drove him to the airport in his own car. Rick was going to keep his Pathfinder over the holiday, since all the reporters were around and Kit didn't really like the idea of leaving his car out where someone might get some ideas. Rick was going to go get Jessie's Corolla after he got home and picked up Martha and watch over their cars for them while they were gone. They stopped at the dropoff lane by the terminal, and Kit blew out his breath.
"You got everything?" Rick asked.
"Yeah. Jessie's car is parked in her spot at the complex. Remember to remind Lupe you're there for it. I told him you were coming to pick it up today, but he might forget. Oh, and don't forget about the alarm, Rick. If you do go into the apartment, turn off the alarm. You have the code?"
"In my wallet, but I doubt I'll have to do that," he said.
"Just in case," Kit said simply.
"I'd have to say thank you for trusting me with your cars and your apartment, son," Rick chuckled. "It means a lot to me."
"If I can't trust you, who the hell can I trust?" Kit asked with a smile.
"You'd better get along, son. Remember, you're only gonna be there one day. Keep telling yourself that when she starts to nag on ya."
"I'm actually looking forward to it," he said as he opened the car door. "It's the last major obstacle to the marriage, so I'm eager to get it out of the way."
Rick laughed. "Hell, son, you two are already married. The ceremony's just a technicality at this point."
"The world is built on technicalities."
"So it is. Have a good flight, son."
"I'll bring you a bit of my in-laws's bloody fur as a souvenir."
Rick laughed. "Be good. I'll pick you up on Friday morning."
"I'll be here."
Kit closed his door and watched Rick drive away in his car. He fished his ticket out of his carry-on bag, then turned and hurried into the terminal. In just a few hours, he'd be with Jessie again.
He couldn't wait.