Its Sunday... so that means it is time to meet LILAH! Remember this is a rough draft excerpt, and I cant use italics like Id like, so keep that in mind. For a little context, our heroine is a scrappy, independent raccoon-shifter with a little bit of a checkered past. Shes lived most of her life fighting for everything she has, so to say shes surprised when Rex catches her quite the way he does is the understatement of the century. But, without further ado, meet Lilah! ------------- Cooper didn’t bother responding verbally when I told him I was going to get food for Non-screechy Prisoner, whose name I totally forgot to ask. Coop just sorta grunted and nodded in my general direction and went right back to the crossword he’d been fussing over. This... was life. Although life didn’t usually involve running errands for guys I’d just met in jail. That part, not so much the norm, but there was just something about him, something I couldn’t place... I wanted to call someone and ask if I was a nutbar for what I was doing, but I already knew the answer. Yep. So instead, I just shook my head a little, made sure my bandana was in the right place, and pulled into the Mac Tamblin Grill’s parking lot. This was the sort of place with a Coca-Cola sign – we’re not talking fancy. But, damn if Mac doesn’t make a damn fine hunk of ground beef. As soon as I hopped out of the car, my nose started tingling. A scent I wasn’t expecting flooded my nostrils – the scent of nothing. No greasy grill, no sweet scent of frying onions. “Oh shit,” I cursed, fishing the phone out of my pocket. “Great.” Five past nine, I thought. Of course it’s five past nine. The big sign on Mac’s front door proudly stated DOORS CLOSE AT NINE GRILL GOES OFF AT EIGHT FORTY-FIVE and as long as I’d been alive, it was true. It was actually great to work at Mac’s like just about everyone did at some point in their lives. I waited tables at a few places in my day, but never at one that was empty the second the door was locked. Still, I was in a little bit of a pickle. Wait, did he want pickles? Or had I forgotten to ask. I guess it didn’t matter all that much. Anywhere else, I could’ve just hopped in the car and swung down to the Burger King, but in Jamesburg? The options were a lot more limited. After dark, which was quickly approaching, Jamesburg just shuts down. Except for The Tavern, and a couple of restaurants, the streets were bare. It was for the best, really, because... well otherwise, the streets would be bear. I made myself laugh, then snort slightly, thinking about a roving pack of bears coming out and rifling through all the trash. And one of those bears would have turned his huge head toward me, let those gorgeous, amber and tan eyes caress me as he held me in his gaze. Then he’d walk over to me, stand up and pin me against a wall, and— Whoa, whoa, whoa, I’ve got way more important things to think about right now. For instance – how to get those hamburgers with Mac closed. Burgers, I thought. Gotta keep my mind on the burgers. Back behind the building, I heard an old truck engine rev up and roll out. That would be Mel. And now, this place was empty. Completely, totally empty. I was having thoughts I didn’t want to have about climbing up the side of this building, breaking in and... cooking ten hamburgers with cheese, tomatoes, and onions, but without the lettuce. I hated doing things like this, even though I was so good at doing them. I spent half my life running from empty building to empty building, stealing to eat, stealing to live. When the Jorgensons took me in, I swore off this kind of stuff, and stuck to it, mostly. When I didn’t I always felt really bad about it, but sometimes nature just got the best of me. Nature, training, upbringing, whatever it was. Sighing heavily, I took a deep breath. I promised burgers, so burgers I was going to deliver. And anyway, I’d leave the money for Mac. I was just borrowing his grill. I pushed my glasses up and tightened my bandana, then proceeded to roll up the legs on my jeans and my shirt sleeves. I’d broken in here once before, but it was totally sanctioned. Mac somehow managed to lock himself out of his own restaurant with about eight stoves running. My “skill set” had its uses past getting me in trouble. “Let’s see if I can remember,” I said to myself softly. “Foothold here.” I curled my toes around a little nub of rock sticking out the side of the building and hoisted myself up. Foothold, then a handhold up and to the left, then a foothold... and then I was stuck. The last time I did this was eight years ago, I thought, realizing I had made it all of three feet off the ground, and the hole in the overhang was still well out of reach. Ten years and ten pounds. Yeah, let’s just call it ten. This was never going to work. What in the hell was I doing, and why was I doing it? For some guy I’d known all of five minutes? Whose name I didn’t even know? I blew an impatient puff of air out my nose and shook my head. I did promise those burgers... I took a quick look around. Parking lot was totally dark. No one would see. Probably. Hopping back in my Malibu, I fought my rolled up jeans and unbuttoned my shirt. A few seconds later, I was totally naked in the front seat of my car, sitting in front of a burger joint. It, er, wasn’t the first time. Although usually it was the back seat. Burgers, I reminded myself. Eyes on the prize. I giggled as the hair slid out of my pores, and my glasses fell off my shrinking nose, to the floorboard. My hands curled up. I flexed my paws, wiggling my claws, and from my lower back, my long, puffy tail wiggled out. One last look around the totally empty parking lot to make sure I really was alone. Climbing sure is easier when you have paws and claws and a tail for balancing. He better love these burgers.
Posted on: Mon, 31 Mar 2014 00:26:31 +0000
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