Love

“Bev! Beverly!” The tall stag’s yells were met with silence, “Ya know jus’ ‘cause you don’t answer me don’t mean you’ll get out of your double shift!” “Ike, no!” The strangled cry originated from the dressing room and a half dressed leopard emerged from behind the door. “Ah jeez, Bev! Cover up!” Ike politely averted his eyes as he waited for the dancer to put on a robe. Once she was decent she marched up to the manager, sticking a digit in his face and wagging it as she angrily scolded him. “This is the second time this week, Ike! If I don’t get some sleep I’ll go mad. Find someone else to cover for Vera.” Beverly turned to leave but was caught by Ike, he latched his arms around her midsection and spun her back around. “Look, if you don’t take Vera’s shift I’ll be the one left holding the bag. You’re my only hope, doll.” Ike gave a light squeeze of encouragement as he eagerly watched the face of his friend. The leopard squirmed a little at the guilt trip before heaving a sigh and pushing the manager away. “Oh alright, you owe me one.” She huffed and attempted to fight the smile that crept on her face when the elk hooped and made a grab for her. She dodged him easily before slinking back behind the curtain, slightly deflated. “You’re a real swell dame Bev!” He shouted after her. “Dry up, Ike!” Came the muffled response. Ike could only chuckle at the antics of his best dancer. He knew the only reason Beverly agreed to cover for her ill co-worker was because she knew Ike was in a pickle. He couldn’t afford to upset the boss again this week. Mr. Sykes had nearly run him through when Ike had lost this week’s shipment to a pair of torpedoes (no doubt working for Sapo) the grumpy Russian dismissed him quietly, deciding it was time to take a more paws-on approach to dealing with his competition. As Ike shuddered at the thought of what his boss could have done to him he started about his daily chores. He hopped over the bar and set to work cleaning the glasses. It wasn’t long before a loud crash erupted from behind the curtain. When the screams started Ike bolted to the dressing room, followed closely by Daric. The scene before them sent the pair into shock. One of the dancers, a Siamese cat, was sprawled on the floor, shaking violently as she foamed at the mouth. Her eyes were wide and filled with pain as she convulsed on the plush carpet. “Do something!” Came the chocked sob of one of the girls. Ike sprung into action, immediately recognizing the symptoms. He firmly grasped the thrashing cat and turned her on her side. He motioned for the girls to clear the area around her so she wouldn’t bang any extremities on debris. As the convulsions stopped the feline gave a few sputters before slipping into unconsciousness. Ike hefted her up and placed her gently on the chaise in the corner of the room. “S-should we call someone?” One of the newer girls asked quietly, immediately regretting it when she was met with several harsh looks. “Alohrs pas, pischouette. We ain’t calln’ no one. You know what’ll go down if we get dem bulls down ‘ere? They’ll make the misère all right! We need ta call Doc Oderi, he’ll fix her up.*” A tall polecat scolded the meek, fresh faced girl. The others nodded in agreement, there was no way they could call an ambulance to a gin joint. Beverly rushed off to make the call as the others gathered around the rousing Siamese cat. “Lynette,” Ike all but shouted in the dancer’s face, he refrained himself from shaking her but it was urgent she respond before she lost consciousness again, “Lynette, tell me who gave you this scag? Lyn, you’ve got to tell me.” This time he did give her a little shake, which seemed to be enough to shake out an answer from the cat. “Don….Quixote.” The muttered reply that slipped from her lips earned an angry growl from the stag. He rose swiftly to his hooves and whispered to Daric before breezing out the door. “Dee, who’s dis Don Key-hot-ay” The name was butchered when passed through the polecat’s impossibly thick Cajun accent. “I dun know, Evelyn. But I reckon it’s someone in need of a good lashin’ if Isaac’s reaction is anythin’ to go on.” It wasn’t long before Dr. Oderi arrived at the Spiked Tiger and confirmed what a few of the girls had suspected. The feline had a bad reaction to a peculiar mix of opiates, while she would live it was likely she would be out of commission for a few weeks. The groans that rippled through the dancers was evidence of their irritation at having to cover for another one of their own. Last week it was Vera who had sampled the deadly concoction that was being distributed by the mystery dealer. The week before then it had been Julia and before that Annabelle. While Mr. Sykes has a strict policy on drug and alcohol intake by his employees (Drink only when prompted by guests and stay away from drugs of any kind) the girls did enjoy letting loose every once in a while but nothing serious. It seemed as if someone had an out for the burlesque dancers of the Spiked Tiger and that didn’t sit well with any of them. That afternoon Mr. Sykes paid a visit to his establishment to have a chat with all of his gals and lay down some ground rules about fraternizing with strange men. Five minutes before curtain Ike returned with a burly looking lion at his side, a thick envelope passed hands and the lion took his leave. Ike greeted none of the ladies as he slipped into the mens room, emerging a few minutes later in a new suit. The aura radiating off the elk kept most at bay though a rather brazen polecat’s curiosity could not be deterred by the atmosphere around the manager. As soon as Ike took his position behind the bar she hopped up on the counter. “Evelyn, off.” Came the gruff command. “My, my ain’t we a boudin’. What’s with da long face, mouche a mielle? Where you run offta dis morning’?**” She goaded the stag. “None of ya damn business, now get off the friggin counter! People gotta eat off of that.” Ike slammed down the glass he was holding, it was then that Evelyn spied the dark splatters of red along his hands, face and neck. She leaned in a bit to confirm her suspicions, with a gasp she fervently muttered a short prayer before rounding on her friend. “You possede***! What kind of evil you been up to? You can’t afford no more trouble Ike, you already in hot water.” “Oh stuff it Ev, it had to be done.” Ike shrugged as he grabbed a towel to start wiping away the partially dried blood that clung to his fur. “Had to be done, my eye! You listen here, stay away from Sapo and his pals or he’ll come after you, fuh shore,” Her angry words were only met with silence, “Cho, I’ll nevah undastand why you always gotta be da hero. A de’pouille if I eva saw one.****” “Everything I do, I do for love Evelyn. Someone’s hurtin’ my gals I can’t stand by and just let it happen. I wouldn’t be a Martinelli if I did! You all are like sisters to me! I couldn’t let that scum get away with it, he purposely sold ‘em bad scag. Talked ‘em up real nice, make them think they were in for a good time. The world’s better off without a chump like that roaming the streets. You should be thanking me, you should be kissing my hooves in gratitude! I did you a favor!” Ike’s rant was met with the puckered expression of Evelyn. “You a right coo-yon, a propah fool. You best watch a slap next time you pull an act like dis, Sapo will be comin’ for ya.” With that she slipped off the counter and made her way back to the table where she was entertaining some patrons. “Ah, vaffanculo Ev!” The profanity echoed in the club, turning a few heads and earning a couple of whistles of approval. Ike flipped up the collar of his shirt and thumbed his nose, attempting to push Evelyn’s words from his mind. At the end of the day Ike didn’t care that the polecat didn’t approve, he did it for love. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- *Rough translation: Of course not, sweetie! We aren't calling anyone. You know what will happen if we get the police down here? They'll cause too much trouble. We need to call Doctor Oderi, he will cure her." **Rough translation: My my, aren't we grumpy. What's with the long face, honeybee? Where did you run off to this morning? ***Possede: Evil/demon child. ****Rough translation: 'Had to be done', never! You listen here, stay away from Sapo and his pals or he'll come after you for sure...Wow, I'll never understand why you always have to be the hero. A mess if I ever saw one. 'Torpedos'- Hired guns 'Watch the slap'- Watch out for the backlash/I'm going to slap you 'Vaffanculo' is Italian for 'go f*** yourself'. Plus 10 points if you knew what that meant because of the Godfather. CX