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Chapter XIX--The Harder They Fall

Softly Now,

You owe it to the world

And everyone knows that you're my favourite girl

But there's some things in life that are not meant to be

I'm not meant for you and your not meant for me

Here's to our problems

And here's to our fights

Here's to our achings

And here's to you having a Good life

From Me

Good Life

Softer Now,

You owe it to yourself

And don't think that you will be left on the shelf

Cause there's someone for you and there's someone for me

Like me you'll meet them eventually

Here's to your lover

And here's to my wife

Here's to your children and here's to you having a good life

From Me

Good Life

­-Francis Dunnery, "Good Life"

Ruby red lipstick.

Dark black eye shadow.

Stiletto heels.

Short black skirt.

Tight v-neck shirt.

Cleavage? Check.

Tail? Fluffed.

Hair? Perfect.

Rebeccah studied herself in the mirror, smirking slightly at her own visage. She looked like a streetwalker. She loved it. Now she only needed to get out of the house unnoticed.

Rebeccah looked at the clock. It read 10:30. Perfect. Her parents would be settled in for the 11:00pm news soon. She waited patiently, passing the time with minor touch-ups to makeup and tending to straying hair strands that fell down into her face. She looked at the clock. 10:35.

Damn.

She was already getting antsy. How long would she have to wait for her parents to get off to bed?

Then she heard it. The shower started. Mother was taking one of her rare evening showers. After years of getting to know the patterns, Beccah knew what that meant. Daddy would be laying in bed, spent. Her parents never were very loud. They developed that habit ever since they realized their little Beccah could hear their every move in the room next door to theirs. But every time they did the nasty, her mother would have to take a shower.

Rebeccah turned out her light, then opened the door. Taking a quick glance to either end of the upstairs hallway, she closed the door behind her and used the skeleton key her parents didn't know she had stolen yet to lock it from the outside. Moving through the house, Beccah side-stepped every creaking board, shifting her weight masterfully as she went down the stairs. Once at the door, she paused, very slowly turning the knob. The creaking at the initial part of the door opening process was loud enough to wake the dead, but with enough care...

Success! Beccah had the door open and was out in the chilly night air. The cold air made her hesitate, thinking if maybe she needed a jacket. She decided it was too late for that, and closed the door and locked it.

Time for some fun.

Alan had been sitting at the bar for two hours now, and was already feeling a hellacious buzz going on. He wasn't about to stop, though. He was out with the big bosses. And when they wanted drinking partners, that didn't mean they wanted you staring at them boozing it up with your can of Coke sitting in front of you. If the boss was going to get hammered, you were going to get hammered. End of story.

"So when is our best-and-brightest coming back?" Hank said. His words were a little stretched, bordering on slurred. He was a cute fiery red fox, a little too tall and a little too thin for his breed, but he could put them down. He was already three up on Alan. The otter was staring at the three shots of Beam that were lined up in front of him, glad to have another question to distract from the disparity between their drinking scores.

"Well, they said the tour ends in August. They didn't specify when," Alan said, turning back to the fox. The editor was still in his black suit jacket and slacks, but his dress shirt was undone and the tie had been cast off carelessly in his car somewhere. Alan was only in a basic polo and jeans. But when you run around the city all the time, you had to be comfortable. "I wanted to thank you for supporting me on this, sir."

"Please, enough with this sir business. It's Hank."

"Sure...Hank," Alan said with a timid smile.

"Listen, Alan. Your future is bright. You need to do all you can to make yourself the best in the field. And I honestly believe you are capable of being just that."

"That's not the Beam talking, is it?"

Hank only laughed at this. "See? You're coming out of that timid little shell of yours. And yes, I really mean that. I wouldn't have put you up with the senior reporters so quickly if I didn't."

"Thanks Hank."

"No problem. Just don't go running off after you come back. Now, let's see to those three shots you've got staring back at you."

Alan's heart sank as he stared the three down. Just then, Hank reached out, took one of the shots, then downed it. "There, you've got a head start. But don't be expecting me to do that much more often in the future. You're gonna have to keep up with me soon. I'm sure those roadies will have you drinking like a sailor in no time."

Alan laughed softly and downed the second shot, immediately followed by the third. He opened his maw an made a sound that sounded like "caff," breathing the thickly alcohol-laced air out.

"See!? Nothing to it," Hank laughed, holding up a finger for another round. "Maybe we could find ourselves some hook-ups in this place, eh?" He jibed, elbowing Alan in the side. "Oh wait, you've got that Luca on your arm, dontcha?"

Alan smirked and nodded, thinking about Luca. Even in the haze that was slowly creeping its way into his mind, he could clearly imagine his beautiful Luca.

"Too bad, you would be a complete stud here. Boys and girls alike love otters around this bar."

"I guess I'm not such a loose cannon as you," Alan commented with what he thought to be an appropriate amount of humor in his tone. He thought Hank a man whore, but he'd never tell that to his boss's face. So putting it in a veiled manner seemed better. And it worked. Hank laughed loudly--almost too loudly.

"Yeah, I'm not much for settling down anytime soon. I like playing around too much."

Thoughts of rumors about just how promiscuous Hank was went through Alan's mind. "I guess I'm just a little too old-fashioned in my ways," he laughed, downing the next shot.

It would be three shots later that Rebeccah would enter the bar.

Luca was doing homework--for once--when the knock came at the door. Looking at the alarm clock, the wondered who the hell would be bothering them at quarter to midnight. She didn't bother getting up, though. Her dad was up late for some forensic investigation in a big Fortune 500, so he would answer the door.

Ten minutes later, there was a knock on her bedroom door. Answering it, she saw her dad's ghostly façade standing there in front of her.

"Jeez dad, you look like hell."

"You pull a hundred-plus a week for four weeks and see how you look."

"Who was at the door?"

"Beccah's parents. She's gone missing."

Luca sighed. It had been only four days since that alcohol scare, and Beccah had seemed to normalize--at least a little. Luca thought she was on track to getting better. "Let me guess. They have no idea where she's gone?"

"Not a clue."

"And they think I'd know?"

"You're her best friend, Luca. I would think you would want to."

"Of course I do," Luca defended. "I just... I don't know. It bothers me just how out of touch her parents are with her. They don't know how to handle all this and it's turning into my responsibility."

"Welcome to adulthood, Luca. I'll start calling local bars and checking with the tenders to see if they recognize anyone matching her description."

Luca sighed. "At least it's Friday night." She went to her closet to start throwing on some clothes. Her father didn't move from where he stood. She turned to look at him. "Anything else?"

"Just wanted to say I'm proud of you, Luca. You're more a woman than most who believe themselves to be."

Luca smiled, holding a pink shirt she had picked up in her left hand. "Thanks dad."

Twenty minutes later, Luca had Harold in tow as they made their way to the subway.

"Why are we going to Manhattan?" Harold protested. "I don't see what the point is. She wouldn't be crazy enough to go that far."

"Maybe," Luca said. "But we're going to get Alan first. He has a car."

"Why can't he just drive here?"

"He's not picking up. The bar his boss was making him go to must not get very good reception or something."

"Hey there," Beccah said, sauntering up to Alan and Hank. The blood in Alan's face drained at the sight of his girl's best friend at a bar, unaccompanied, and underage.

"Beccah, what the hell are you doing here?" he said in shock as she reached out, took the shot in his hand, and snapped it back as easy as if it were water.

"Having fun. What about you?"

"Who's this firecracker?" Hank said with a bright little twinkle in his eye. "Friend of yours, Alan?" Even as Hank spoke, he lifted a hand with three digits held up, asking for three rounds now.

"Yeah, and she was just leaving," Alan said firmly, trying to stand. But the dizziness that suddenly swept him put him right back on his ass.

"Oh come on, Alan. Don't be such a party pooper," Hank said, handing a shot off to Beccah, taking his own. Alan reluctantly took his shot and held it up along with Hank and Beccah. "Cheers," went all around, and down the hatch it went.

It wouldn't be until Alan was too drunk to keep the world from tilting that he realized his boss was now three seats away and getting hot and heavy with some wolverine male that had made eyes at him earlier. Next to him sat Rebeccah, who was giggling and laughing about nothing in particular. Alan's world was threatening to go back to black very soon.

"Kh'm awn, Bec-cah," he managed to say, taking her by the hand. This time, she didn't protest. She went along with him, still babbling about something to do with when she tried out for cheerleading. Or maybe it was the choir? Alan couldn't remember. He gave a little wave to his boss, who only lifted an idle hand in reply, then went back to making out with the Wolverine with a devilish smirk on his face.

Once outside, Alan nearly stumbled right out into the street, and Beccah held him back. "Hey now, you're pretty wasted," she giggled. "I'll walk you back to your place."

The pair began making their way down the street. They only made it a few blocks before Beccah grunted with the effort of putting Alan back against the wall of a building. "Do you know where we're going?" She asked.

"Wher'ree goin?" he asked her, his head swimming.

"That's what I'm asking you, damnit," Beccah grumbled, whipping out her cell phone. She then thought better of contacting anyone she knew. Her parents may have realized she was gone by now. She put the phone back in her purse, not bothering to even turn it on. Looking up, she got herself a devilish idea.

The couple that walked into the hotel wasn't entirely uncommon for the desk worker to see at this hour. A drunken business type with what looked to be a hooker. The clerk was a tall female lioness, her fur groomed impeccably, her suit obviously high-end. "Do you have any reservations?"

"No."

The desk clerk was not surprised. "We have only a few rooms available right now. All smoking, with a king-size bed."

"That'll do," the female said. It was sad, the clerk thought. Such a young and beautiful lapine forced to work the streets with disgusting drunken slobs like this.

"Alright, the rate is one fifty-nine a night plus taxes, drinks, room service, and premium movies are all extra--"

The clerk was cut off by a credit card being slapped onto the counter. She gingerly took it from the drunken male otter and took the information from it. "You have ID?"

ID was procured in similar fashion. The clerk continued putting the info in.

"Alright, your room is five twenty-nine," she said pleasantly enough, handing back ID, credit card, and the room keys.

"Shank yoo," the otter slurred. The couple then turned towards the elevators. The clerk simply shook her head in disappointment.

Luca and Harold barged into the bar, looking around. At the bar itself, there was a fox and a wolverine making out. Since he was the only fox in the establishment, Luca had to figure that it was Hank. She marched up to him, Harold in tow.

"Hey," she said. She was ignored.

"I said hey!" she said, much louder this time, shaking the fox's shoulder.

"What!? Can't you see I'm--oh, it's you."

"Yeah, pleasure. You must be Hank. Where is Alan?"

"Don't know. Ran off with some friend of his. She looked pretty good, too."

"Who?"

Hank seemed to be trying to think, and was taking a very long time in doing so. "Beccah, I think he called her."

"Where did they go!" she suddenly snapped, grabbing him by the lapels. The wolverine was slowly backing off.

"How the hell would I know? Where does any guy take a slut like that?"

This was received with a sharp slap to the face. Hank found himself rubbing his cheek as he stared after the pair marching out of the bar. He turned to look for the wolverine he was about to get lucky with. No sign of him. Hank swore loudly.

A door opening.

A bed.

Comfort.

Sleep.

Door opening again.

Slamming shut.

More sleep.

Door opening again.

Bright light.

Alan winced, trying to shield his eyes. The room was still spinning. He was still very drunk. The acrid smell of cigarettes hit his nostrils, and now he was up. He hated smokers in his room--

--Except it wasn't his room. Looking around, he found himself sitting on the bed of a decent Manhattan hotel room. There was a balcony, and on that balcony, a sexy lapine smoking a cigarette.

"How long was I out?" he said. He was a little more sober than before, but still very far gone, having to use the guard rail for support.

"Only half an hour or so," Beccah replied, blowing a trail of smoke up into the air. She offered him one. Alan shook his head. "You're really cute when you sleep."

"Uh... thanks, I guess," he replied, leaning against the railing to look out at the city. "How'd we get here?"

"I couldn't get you home, so we got a hotel room."

"We? Where's Luca?"

"I don't know."

"Where's my cell phone?" he asked, trying to search his pockets. He realized it was still sitting on his desk at work. He left it there after having called Luca to tell her he was going to the alternative-friendly bar his boss was so apt to go to.

"How would I know?" Beccah said in reply to his question.

"What about yours?"

"I lost it," she lied.

"I have to get back to the office."

"You're too drunk. You should sleep it off."

"I was supposed to meet Luca. She's going to kill me."

"She'll forgive you for getting drunk."

"Maybe... I just really have to get back to her."

Beccah bit her lip, looked out to the city sadly. "Alright."

"What's wrong?"

"It's just... I've been feeling so much better, you know? Talking to someone and just... having fun." Beccah's eyes began welling up, and little droplets of water began going down her cheeks.

"Jeez, Beccah... I'm sorry," he said, sliding up next to her. "I just... I get so concerned about Luca and I tend to forget that others ex--"

Before Alan could finish, his lips were met with Beccah's. He pulled back quickly, but the sudden movement made him dizzy. He fell backwards, right into a chair placed out on the balcony. Before he could say anything further, he found Rebeccah was straddled over his lap. Without any will of his own, his member stirred in his pants.

"Rebeccah, this is not right. You're crossing a line here," he said in a panicked voice.

"Lines were meant to be crossed," Beccah whispered, leaning in and pressing her lips to his again.

I wish I could tell you Alan fought her off. I wish I could say Beccah came to her senses. But hormones are funny things. Your heart and body can betray each other with the slightest provocation. And that is exactly what happened that night in that hotel room.

Luca and Harold marched solemnly into her house at around three in the morning. Luca's father was pacing in the living room when they arrived. He looked up at them with those ghostly, sleep-deprived eyes.

"Any luck?"

"None. We spent the whole time just trying to find Alan. He's gone too," Luca said, worry plain in her voice.

"Well... get some rest," Randal said. "Harold, you're welcome to the couch down here if you don't feel like footing it home. I need to go pass out."

"No problem, Mr. Reingold," Harold said, flopping down on the couch. Luca flopped down next to him.

When they were sure they were alone, Luca whispered. "I wonder where he is."

"Him? What about Beccah?"

"Harold... about all this... I'm just really sorry for everything. Those were your pups too. You've had to lose them, and now with all this stuff with Rebeccah..."

"Hey, it's not your fault," Harold said tenderly. Luca moved up alongside him, curling up against him. He put an arm on her shoulders. "Shit happens."

Luca heard a disingenuous tone in his voice. "You're torn up inside, aren't you?"

"Like you wouldn't believe."

Luca turned her head to Harold and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Don't worry. Even when it seems impossible to get through it all, there's always hope."

Harold simply smiled sadly and gazed into Luca's eyes.