----- chapter 2
“Such beauties. You really are the master at your craft.” He said examining one of the flawless gold bars under the lamp light. Cymaenie had gone to his source for fencing stolen goods: an eccentric coyote named Forere.
He was about the same height as Cymaenie, but scrawny. His fur was mostly gray, with a white chest and black tipped tail. All was rough and very un-groomed.
His personality matched that of his appearance as he was hyper as if he had very little sleep and too much caffeine. His eyes were constantly darting about as if police were bound to rush in at any moment. He was paranoid, but most said it wasn’t a strong enough word.
“So do I get extra for them?” Cymaenie asked.
Forere smelled the bar of gold and set it aside on a red felt cloth. “You always do. Normally I’m given scratched, nicked, or flawed bars.”
He nodded removing several more from the cloth bags and setting them out in a row. Forere counted out the gold bars, and leaned under the counter. He pulled out a metal box and opened the lid.
A stack of one hundred dollar bills was removed for each bar, creating a pile of money next to that of the gold.
“The usual fare.” He said gesturing to the money. Cymaenie picked up one of the banded stacks and flipped the bills. He nodded and tossed them into the back pack. He then removed the three boxes of jewelry that he had lifted from the safe as well.
The coyote ran his paw over the soft felt case with a grin. “Too funny.”
Cymaenie cocked his head. “These pieces are ones that have been sold in my shop.” He pointed to the embossed logo on the top. “Its almost ironic.”
Cymaenie smiled as more money was counted out for the jewelry. Forere quickly placed the stolen items away in a safe, and closed the box of cash, completing their transaction.
“Pleasure doing business with you my raccoon friend. I look forward to our next meeting.”
Cymaenie grabbed up his backpack and nodded. He pushed open the back door, and stepped out into the night once more. The sky was beginning to brighten as the morning was slowly coming.
He stepped into his Chevy, slammed the door shut and roared off down the street on his way home.
Cymaenie was a smart thief and made it a point never to mix his business with his home life. His Monte Carlo was parked in a garage several blocks from his fence. Here, he stripped himself of his gear, stowing everything into a large black duffle bag.
He donned a black t shirt, and a pair of loose shorts. His bandanna was tucked away, and his shoes changed to normal sneakers. After his changing, he left his garage safe house, locking it securely behind him. A short walk down the streets of the early morning city brought him to a quaint neighborhood where his day car was parked on a side street. He yawned reaching in his pocket and pulling out a set of keys.
His day car was a silver 1989 Pontiac Sunbird. He opened the trunk and tossed his duffle bag inside, slamming the lid down. Changing to the door key, he opened the driver-side door and climbed in minding his tail as he sat.
He pulled shut the door wearily and turned the car over. He shifted into drive and pulled out into the street. As he drove, he pulled a wristwatch out from the center console and affixed it to his wrist. Six-thirty it read.
The bright flash of the sun rising over the buildings drenched the whole car in a yellowed morning light. Cymaenie cracked his neck out as he turned the car and merged onto an expressway.
Forty minutes of traffic later, he was in downtown Herdnan. He merged off of the highway and into the heart of the buildings. The sun was lost again to the towering skyscrapers surrounding him. He yawned, rubbing his eyes as he drove down a ramp to an underground parking garage.
He pulled out a parking pass, and swiped it at the gate. He rolled through and proceeded to hunt for a parking space. Upon finding one, he pulled the car in and turned it off with a sigh. He opened the door, and leaned behind his seat and picked up his backpack off of the floor. He shouldered this, locked and closed the car door.
He pocketed his keys and started across the cool lot for the stairs back up to the surface. He took these two at a time, and emerged in the noise and bustle of the morning.
He rounded the corner of the cement wall around the staircase and headed down the sidewalk with countless others. He plodded on ahead wearily, wishing the day was over with.
He looked up at a tall glass and steel skyscraper, looming seventy stories above him. He sighed again and turned towards the main doors, quickening his pace. He followed a line of furs through a revolving door and into the lobby where an almost roaring din of chatter greeted him.
He stepped onto a crowded elevator as the doors began to close. Slowly it ground its way upwards through the many floors. Cymaenie patiently waited for the elevator to make it to the fortieth floor. Once the elevator stopped here, he stepped off. There was a large lobby to a loan firm, where a large logo hung over the receptionist’s desk.
Cymaenie walked by everyone and opened one of the wooden doors leading to the offices. “Good morning Cy. You look wonderful as always.” One of the receptionist said, making comments to his ragged appearance.
He nodded back as a response and pulled open the door and walked through. A sea of cubicles spread out before him along with the drone of telephones ringing.
He sighed, picking his way through the office. He soon came up on an empty cubicle and stepped into it. He plopped down into his chair and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.
He was at work. A place that he could never stand. Bosses that annoyed him, talking to other furs he swore were retarded, the same computer monotony and all while getting paid peanuts.
Often enough, thoughts of quitting his job became very tempting as he could very easily survive a week or two on one good night heist. However, the reason he worked at this dead end job was to avoid suspicion as to income. ‘A good thief covers his tracks well.’ He would constantly tell himself.
He yawned again, and turned his computer on. As he waited for it to boot, there was a knock on his cubicle wall.
“Mr. Nooker, I know that the outside world might not be able to see you, but I can and we do have something of a dress code here.”
Cymaenie turned to see a rather annoyed looking bull leaning on the cubicle wall with a clipboard and files tucked under his arm. “Sorry Mr. Hoffar. I just got in. Haven’t had a chance to change yet.”
The bull looked at his wrist watch and cleared his throat. “Well get to it. You’re on company time.” He started to walk off, but stopped and added, “And at least once try to get some sleep before you come in here. I understand that you are more nocturnal, but try to make an effort.”
He turned and continued on his way down the aisle. Cymaenie growled a little, his mind flooding with the thoughts of quitting the job once again. His trance was broken by another knock.
His head snapped to the cubicle opening to see a snow leopard standing there. She was a little over five feet tall, with a smooth shimmering fur coat. She was playing with the collar button hole on her blouse and twitching her tail.
“Good morning sleepyhead.” She said.
Cymaenie grunted. “Yea. Morning to you Feirya.”
“I don’t understand why you don’t get a night job. You’re the only raccoon I know that torments yourself like this.”
“I do have a night job.” He said. “And you know Jor.”
She thought for a moment. “Oh yes. Jor. Well, he’s just weird. He carries on conversations with his jar of pencils.”
Cymaenie nodded disinterested as he snatched up his backpack and stood up to go change. Feirya blocked him off playfully with her tail. “What are you doing tonight? We could go catch a movie or dinner or something.”
Cymaenie sighed. He really wanted sleep. “Nothing much.”
“So, is that a yes?” she said smiling. They had gone out on dates several times, mostly due to her persistence.
Cymaenie nodded, agreeing only to get her out of his hair. She winked and said, “Great. You’ll pick me up then? The usual time I assume; eight?”
“I suppose.” He said brushing past her and heading off for the bathrooms.
She watched him go and smiled to herself. She turned around and jumped with surprise at a heavyset lioness leaning back in her chair out in the aisle stuffing her face with a jelly doughnut.
“I don’t understand why you constantly throw yourself at him like a starving homeless whore.”
“You just jealous Pirry.”
She laughed. “If you say so.”
“You know just as well as I do that he is the hottest guy in this whole office!”
Pirry laughed again and nodded. “True. But, he’s not exactly normal himself. I swear that he hasn’t slept in months as he has a ‘night job’. Whatever that may be. He says milkman. Can you picture Cymaenie delivering milk?”
“Sure. How else do you think he stays in shape?”
“Not sleeping, and running around ragged. I’d look like that too. Never mind that Feirya. The point I am trying to make here for you is that you two have gone on at least ten dates now, and what have you done?”
“We went to the movies, dinner, bowling, to a club one night, and we…”
“Not like that. What happens at the end of the night?”
“He drops me off…”
Feirya let out a breath of relief. She thought this was going to be about sex. “No. He usually stays for a little while. We cuddle and watch some T.V. Kiss and make out.”
Pirry raised an eyebrow. “You haven’t told me this!”
“I didn’t think it necessary to. It’s my personal life.”
“And you’re my best friend!”
Feirya rolled her eyes. “You just want to start gossiping and spreading rumors.
“Me? Never!” Pirry said. “Oh shit! Here he comes!” she quickly rolled her chair back into the large cubicle and Feirya stepped in as well taking her seat.
Cymaenie shook his head and walked past them on his way to the coffee machine.
Pirry watched with amusement as Feirya watched him walk by and undress him with her eyes. “You are infatuated with him! Admit it!”
She giggled. “Okay, maybe a little.”
Cymaenie grabbed a coffee mug and was about to pour it when he felt someone watching him. He turned and saw as Pirry and Feirya’s heads dropped from view behind the cubicle wall. He sighed, unplugged the coffee pot and grabbed it up.
He carried both it and a mug back to his cubicle and set them down on his desk. He plugged the pot back in and dropped into his chair. He poured himself a mug and drank some.
He frowned at it, and slurped the rest of the coffee. He grabbed the pot and wandered back to the break area. He tossed out the pot of coffee, filled the pot with fresh water, grabbed the container of grounds and walked back to his desk.
He poured the water into the back, replaced the pot and opened the coffee grounds. He started scooping in heap after heap into the filter.
Pirry’s curiosity got the better of her and she poked her head in to see Cymaenie mounding the grounds in.
“You do know that you are only supposed to put one level scoop in… right?”
Cymaenie shrugged and kept heaping the grounds in. Once satisfied, he handed the tin to Pirry and closed the lid to begin brewing. She looked at him with an odd quizzical look and took the grounds back.
Five minutes later, he was drinking his version of coffee and fighting with his computer. His boss, Mr. Hoffer came around again. “Oh! You have the coffee pot! Why did you move…”
He stopped when Cymaenie turned around. He was exhausted and now getting aggravated, his left eye twitching.
His boss scratched the back of his head and nodded. “I’m just going to grab a cup from you.”
He poured the coffee and took a sip, gagged and started coughing. It was beyond strong.
“Very good. Carry on.” He said wheezing and walking off.
The day didn’t seem to end at all. Every time Cymaenie looked up at a clock, it seemed no later than it was. He drank at least three pots of his turbo coffee, just to get him through the trying day.
He was beginning to hate his job more and more until the point he wanted to throw the computer monitor he stared at through the window. As his patience drew to its final snapping close, he looked up at the clock to see that it was five to five.
‘Finally.’ He growled, angrily tapping the buttons on his mouse to save and close the programs that were running. As the computer began shutting itself down, he quickly started packing his things back into his bag.
“So, I’ll see you tonight then cutie!” His ears swiveled listening. It was Feirya.
He smiled and nodded, turning back to his bag in a frustrated glare as a folder he had wouldn’t cooperate sliding in past his clothes. She winked to Pirry and headed off down the aisle to get her things.
“So, are you going to make the moves on her stud? Get her all hot and bothered?” she asked mocking a sexy dance. Pirry had a knack for being downright vulgar at times.
“Go away you fat bitch before you collapse the building.” Cymaenie retorted zipping his bag up and standing up.
“Some one is cranky.” She laughed. “Maybe one of these days you’ll actually sleep some part of it like a normal fur.”
Cymaenie rolled his eyes and shuffled past on his way out of the corner of hell. Just before he disappeared through the doors, he retorted back. “And maybe once you’ll lay off the doughnut box in the morning. But, I’m not holding my breath, and neither should you.”
He picked up speed, as he was more than excited to leave that horrid place. He didn’t even wait for an elevator. He passed by many of his coworkers waiting patiently and to the stairs.
Taking two at a time, he quickly sprinted down all forty floors of the building reaching the bottom, not even the slightest out of breath. In fact, he beat all those waiting for the elevator, who tried to hail him as he exited out the glass front doors.
He crossed the concrete jungle to the parking garage where a traffic jam of people were slowly progressing down the stairs. He sighed, jumped onto the handrail, and slid down the entire staircase, landing in a run before slowing to a fast walk.
As to be expected, a few yelled after him such as “Watch it asshole!”, “In a hurry?”, “Showoff” and such.
He made it to his car, unlocked the door, threw his bag onto the passenger seat, jumped in and started the engine. He closed the door, threw the Pontiac into reverse and backed out.
He shifted to drive and roared through the parking lot, desperate to get home. His wish couldn’t be any less true as once on the streets, traffic was backed up with rush hour.
Traffic continued to crawl for miles at a snail’s pace. Finally, after an hour in traffic, he merged off of the highway and into his neighborhood. Five minutes after that, he was in the peaceful surroundings of suburbia.
He turned down his street and was soon thereafter at his house. It was a single story on a cement slab. Tan stucco walls held up a low pitched roof, revealing the tall palm trees growing in the back yard. Large double hung windows faced the street with curtains drawn. It wasn’t anything overly huge, but plenty comfortable for just one.
He pulled up his driveway and into the opening garage. He stopped inside, and got out of the car. He grabbed his backpack, opened his trunk and got his duffle out.
He pressed the garage door button as he entered the house and closed the door behind him. He was glad to be home. He had a nice place, although didn’t get to spend much time in it other than to sleep.
He defiantly felt the urge now. He tossed his bags on the couch as he made his way towards the bedroom. He stripped out of his work clothes down to his underwear, tossing them into the hamper as he plodded his way to his bed.
He set the alarm clock, yawned and looked over at the smooth sheets. He flopped down onto the soft water bed, creating a wave as his head hit the pillow.