“For heaven’s sake, D’jiin,” Thomas said, “if you want a sport-ute take one of the Tahoes; they’re bigger and more comfortable.”
“The three Tahoes in inventory have leather seating, Dear,” he gently said. “The Blazer demo I—as Jack—used had cloth seats, but for numerous reasons that one needs to be grounded. We might even have to send it to the auction, since it now carries an unpleasant history.” He frowned momentarily, then explained, “Most H’kaah find the practice of sitting on skin-covered seats to be, well, creepy. S’leen never complained about riding in my old Corvette, but once she discovered it had leather upholstery she carefully let me know she liked riding in the truck better.” He grinned, then stated, “That’s why I want that nice little cloth-upholstered Blazer. Once Jerry Reinhold puts a dealer tag on it for me, I’ll get out of your hair for the rest of the day.”
“But—”
“No buts, Lisa. The best thing you can do right now is jump in with both feet and immerse yourself in the business. I’ve got some personal matters to take care of, then— ” He paused his therapeutic ministrations, sighed, then resumed work on Thomas’ neck and shoulders. “Then, I’m going to try to go home again. ‘They’ say you can’t do that, and maybe ‘they’ are correct, but I’m gonna give it my best shot anyway.”
* * *
An hour later found the black-furred H’kaah fighting the mid-afternoon traffic as he worked his way downtown. Tony’s was one of the trendiest men’s clothing shops in town, and owner Tony Wilson could often be found circulating among his customers. All eyes in the store, Wilson’s included, quickly spotted the tall, mostly-dark alien who came purposefully striding in the front door. Wilson’s surprise turned to puzzlement as he recognized the male H’kaah as one he had seen at Jack Ross’ funeral that morning.
“Hello! Good to see you again,” Wilson said as the dark alien approached him. “What can I do for you?”
D’jiin smiled and said, “I’d like to talk to you for a few minutes, Mr. Wilson. It is, however, something that’s best discussed in private,” and the alien nodded toward Wilson’s windowless office, located in the back of the building. Puzzled black man and mysterious black-furred H’kaah padded silently across the thick beige carpet as they headed for the solid wood door that had the letters T. W. tastefully embossed on it in antique-style gold letters.
Tony Wilson’s office doubled as a small gymnasium; the retired NFL running back liked to keep himself fit. Once inside, D’jiin made it a point to snap the deadbolt on the door, effectively insuring that they wouldn’t be disturbed.
“Hey! Why did you do that?” Wilson said, more annoyed than alarmed.
“Relax,” the H’kaah said, smiling. “I just didn’t want Allysha to come barging in at the wrong time.”
Now Wilson was really puzzled now. “How…how did you know my secretary’s name? What is it that—?”
“As I said, Tony—relax. You see,” and D’jiin held his arms wide as he turned all the way around, grinning, “what we have here, my friend, is an elaborate disguise. A few days ago I didn’t have all this fur, these big teeth and these…these goofy ears.” He dropped his arms to his side, lost the grin and his entire body seemed to droop. “A few days ago I was a gut-and head-shot, dying, middle-aged honky named Jack Ross, and…and now I’m an overgrown ‘Black Jackrabbit’.” D’jiin looked solemn as he waited to see what kind of reaction Wilson would have.
He didn’t have long to wait.
“Bullshit!” the man blurted out, then started toward the door, adding, “I don’t know what kind of crap you’re trying to pull, bunny-boy, but I want you to get the hell out—URK!”
D’jiin had moved so quickly Wilson had no chance to defend himself. In less than two seconds the man had a black-furred arm tight around his neck, and his left arm was being held painfully behind his back. He also had a snarling, toothy muzzle mere inches from the side of his face.
“Understand this, Tony-my-man,” the alien growled, “I’m as sensitive about racial slurs as you are, so if I hear you refer to me as again as ‘bunny-boy’ I’ll most likely kick the living shit out of you.”
“Y-you’re not man enough to do it!” Wilson gasped.
D’jiin barked a laugh, then said, “You’re right about not being a ‘man’—boy. I lost that designation a few days ago. You see, my human body finally crapped out from all the bullet holes those three dickheads gifted me with.” He tightened his neck hold on Wilson, making the man choke. “But with a little help from some friends I found a new home—boy—and I’m even more of a bad-ass now that I was before.”
Wilson hadn’t stopped struggling, and with the derogatory racial term goading him, he struggled all the harder. It didn’t do him any good, either. D’jiin’s muscular arms were like velvet-covered steel.
“And now that you’re thoroughly pissed,” the alien coldly said, “you need to remember the only white man who ever got away with calling you boy—and why.” Wilson’s eyes suddenly took on a look of terror, and his powerful muscles seemed to turn to mush. “Yeah, Tony-my-man,” the black-furred H’kaah grated, “think about who saved your black ass from that trio of piss-brained rednecks that night-from-hell those long years ago. They were well on their way to giving you a terminal case of ‘Texas road rash’, weren’t they? You were already hog-tied and they were almost ready to drag you to death behind a rusty old Dodge truck, all because they didn’t like you having a white wife.” The man began to tremble, and D’jiin loosened his stranglehold.
“Old Black Jack Ross had seen them grab you that night as you walked home alone from a party, and in a piece of Oscar-caliber acting he passed himself off as a bubba who’s neck was every bit as red as theirs. It didn’t take long to convince them that he, too, didn’t take kindly to a nigger marrying a white woman, no matter that he was a star football player. Remember how Jackie-boy argued that the rope they were using wouldn’t hold up long enough, that it’d wear out and break before you were dead. Instead, old bubba Jack convinced them to use a length of nice steel chain—which of course they didn’t have handy. In the confusion he got in close enough to get his hands on the biggest one—and I snapped his fuckin’ red neck like a rotten twig.” D’jiin abruptly released the man and stepped away, leaving Wilson to wobble bonelessly in the middle of the floor. “I think you remember how the second one’s mangy skull split open like a ripe watermelon when I slammed it into the truck’s rusty bumper, and who could forget the satisfying scream the third one cut loose with when his belly had a fatal ‘close encounter’ with his very own Buck hunting knife.” D’jiin simply stood looking at his friend, his arms crossed. “It shocked you even more,” he added, “when the cops helped me stage a fiery, single vehicle crash that charred the three bodies almost beyond recognition.”
“Tony, I’m not a ‘man’ anymore,” he softly said, “so don’t ever call me that again. Promise me that and I promise you I’ll never again call you ‘boy’. Deal?”
It took Wilson a good fifteen seconds to recover from the struggle, and it took another fifteen seconds for the shock of the H’kaah’s revelation to sink in.
But it did.
“My…my GOD, Jack,” he rasped. “It IS you!”
“Bet your black ass it is, Tony, and from this moment on you’re also never to call me ‘Jack’ again. I mean it!” When the man began to protest D’jiin stepped forward and grabbed Wilson’s arms in an iron grip, and the grip had claws. “Who the hell do you see standing in front of you? Jack Ross? No. Jack Ross is DEAD, Tony. You and I went to his funeral this morning.”
Wilson didn’t struggle to escape the alien’s grasp; he was too busy trying to grasp the impossible-seeming story the black-furred H’kaah was telling him. “But…but why?” he finally said. “And how, and—?”
“C’maat was with me throughout the whole horrifying ordeal, Tony, so if you don’t believe me just ask her. What she’ll tell you is that what you see here is the body of a condemned H’kaa
h criminal, and while he was guilty of a terrible crime he was still a better person than a hell of a lot of humans I know. A group of alien scientists—you don’t need to know who or even what species, so don’t ask—sucked his mind out of this body and shoved mine in. Even though he was condemned, this was only done with his permission, along with a promise that if they can repair the damage to my old human body, the H’kaah who’s body I’m now wearing will live again in the repaired human one. This switcheroo gives me a chance to continue some very important work that got rudely interrupted, and it gives the H’kaah criminal a possibility of redemption. This body has been physically changed so it won’t be mistaken for the criminal’s, and if the scientists can repair my old human one they’ll also change it enough so nobody will ever recognize it as Jack Ross.” He released Wilson’s arms and again stepped back.
Tony Wilson shook his head and said, “That’s the damnedest thing I’ve ever heard, Jack, and…and I believe every word. It’s just too fuckin’ wild to be bogus.”
“I’m warning you, Tony—don’t EVER call me Jack again; my name is D’jiin. If the wrong people hear you call me Jack it might just get me shot. We know without a doubt that the three roaches S’leen killed have friends.”
Wilson’s mouth hung open in shock. “S’leen killed those gunmen?” D’jiin nodded. “But…but she’s H’kaah! She’s like C’maat, so gentle, so soft and cuddly. How could she—?”
“I trained her,” D’jiin patiently explained, “and in doing so helped counter at least a portion of her ‘prey’ mindset. What you and almost everybody else don’t know is that she killed a fourth assailant several days later. He’d slipped into the hospital’s ICU disguised as my son Cory. He was doing his damnedest to finish what the first three started when a couple of cops jumped him, but he shot both of them—and then S’leen blew his brains out with a suppressed .380 Walther PPK one of the cops had given her.” Wilson’s eyes had gotten very wide; he’d never suspected a gentle H’kaah could do such a thing. “The first three assailants were going to kill her, and she acted in self-defense; the one in the hospital ICU was trying to do a number on me, and she toasted him to save my butt. She killed them all, and with her as an example I believe we can eventually convince the H’kaah—MY people, now—that they can effectively stand up to any and all predator species they encounter.”
Wilson sat heavily on the corner of his big wood desk, then spent the next few moments coming to grips with all the incredible ideas and concepts that had just slapped him in the face. Finally he said, “Parts of this are coming together, but I’m still having trouble with the funeral. If you’re not dead, why have a funeral?”
D’jiin sighed. “Tony, you’re one of the few people outside my black ops world that knows anything about my past. You don’t know all of it—and pray to God, old friend, that you never do—but just understand that as long as ‘Black Jack Ross’ lives, incidents like what happened with those roaches will continue. As far as I’m concerned I’d like the remaining roaches to think their dead buddies ultimately succeeded. Then maybe the ones I don’t know about will crawl back under their rocks and leave me the fuck alone!” He paused, then continued in a quieter voice. “The Patrons work is important, Tony. It’s a project I—when I was Jack Ross—started and secretly ran, and I plan to keep right on doing it, just now from a somewhat different angle.”
The man nodded in agreement but then stated, “I’ll buy the need for the funeral, but I don’t understand why you were there as…as a mourner!”
“I wanted to be there to help support S’leen, so she could look over and see that I—well, I really wasn’t dead. Also, I figured that if I could get through such a bizarre situation without freaking out I should be able to handle damned near anything.” He grinned, and Wilson could see the old Jack Ross personality shining through the alien covering. “Hell, Tony, I thought it’d be neat to go to my own funeral. I was curious to see who would show up!”
For a moment Wilson matched the H’kaah’s toothy grin, but then the man’s grin melted away to become one of the most forlorn expressions the alien had ever seen. “Jack— sorry, D’jiin—I…I guess this means I’ll be losing C’maat.” Before the dark-furred alien could ask him what he meant Wilson added, “Shit, there’s no way an over-the-hill human jock can compete with someone like you.”
D’jiin literally jumped over to where Wilson was sitting on the edge of his desk, and the alien grabbed him by the shoulders and brought his cat-whiskered muzzle to within inches of the man’s nose. “Buddy, don’t you ever let me hear you say anything that stupid again, understand?” When Wilson looked confused D’jiin snarled, “Who the fuck do you think set the two of you up? I—Jack Ross—did!”
That intense statement had an immediate effect on the man, and he raged, “Bullshit! I—” Wilson suddenly paused in mid-denial, a strange look on his ebony features. “That’s right!” he said in wonder. “I got a call from you—from Jack— and you said I should go to Patrons and ask to meet an H’kaah named C’maat.” He smiled widely. “Oh God, she just blew me away!”
“Right on both counts, Tony-my-man,” the alien gently said, releasing his grip on Wilson’s shoulders. “I called you and told you that I’d just gotten an alien companion, and that I’d seen one that would be perfect for you—and I was right. C’maat is a perfect complement to you; the two of you look good together!”
But the man wasn’t satisfied. “Sure, she and I cut a mean path, but I can’t compete with the person you are—one of her own kind! So don’t tell me it doesn’t matter,” he snarled, “because she won’t have a choice, and neither will you!”
D’jiin surprised his old friend when he merely blinked and softly said, “But that’s where you’re wrong, old friend. I’ve had a choice from the very beginning, and I chose S’leen. Even with my physical change I haven’t changed my mind. You know damned well that C’maat is a hot little number, and that I, as Jack Ross, interviewed her the same time I interviewed S’leen.” After a moment Wilson nodded unhappily. “C’maat and I hit it off right from the start, but also right from the start I realized that I wasn’t ‘man enough’ to handle her, either. You, on the other hand, fit her lifestyle like a big macho glove, and just because I now wear a different skin doesn’t change that at all. S’leen’s my choice, Tony, and like human society, H’kaah society really frowns on cheating on one’s wife.”
It took the man a few heartbeats to catch the gist of D’jiin’s remark, then he exclaimed, “Wife? You mean—you’re married?”
“Not yet, but one of the reasons I came by here today was to see if you were available to attend our wedding.” Wilson’s mouth hung open, then he consciously tried to close it over a face-splitting grin, but he couldn’t. “I’d like to have a small, private ceremony at my old estate this evening,” D’jiin explained. “A few human and H’kaah friends drop by to witness our wedding and enjoy some refreshments afterward, then you all go home.” He grinned and winked suggestively.
“Well, yeah!” Wilson said as he grabbed the H’kaah in a friendly, bone-crushing bear hug. “Count me in!”
Chapter 15
*Open Season*
One hour later found D’jiin keying his security code into the electric driveway gate at the Jack Ross estate. A minute later he parked the Blazer in front of the main house, only to find his body suddenly so weak with reaction that, for a moment, he didn’t have the strength to get out of the truck.
Despite a hostile world and seemingly insurmountable odds, nothing, not even death, had been able to keep Jack Ross—aka: D’jiin; aka: bunny-boy—from coming home again.
However, he wasn’t allowed much time to wallow in self-pity, or anything else for that matter. The front door of the old house suddenly swung open and a brown-haired, honey-blonde-furred lapin form bounced out to greet him. S’leen skidded to a stop a few feet shy of the truck’s door, and what he saw on her soft features made D’jiin’s chest ache. She was obviously overjoyed to
see him, yet the fear that he wouldn’t feel the same way about her was also evident in her anxious expression and ill-disguised apprehensive demeanor. After looking at her through the tinted glass in the door window for what seemed to be an eternity—probably no more than three or four seconds—D’jiin hurriedly fumbled the truck’s door open and nearly fell out into the afternoon heat and sunshine.
“I, uh, promised you an interesting life,” he nervously said with a smile as the two H’kaah awkwardly stood a few feet apart, “and, My Love, I’m here to make good on that promise.” Conflicting emotions played across S’leen’s face as she dared to hope that her fears had been groundless. D’jiin held out his hands, then grinned, Jack Ross-style. “Marry me?”
She squealed and leaped into his arms, and the force of the impact drove him back against the Blazer. Jumbled words of hope, fear and joy, amply lubricated with tears, spilled forth from her in such a torrent that the black-furred male was momentarily overwhelmed. Still, he managed to calm his bride-to-be long enough to give her a long, passionate human-style kiss. That, of course, ignited a passion of a more ‘fundamental’ kind, and once again D’jiin had to force himself to postpone what his body demanded he do.
“H-hold it, Dear. Wait!” She really didn’t want to listen, but when he firmly held her at arms’ length and absolutely refused to take matters any further, she reluctantly stopped her advances. “If we want this to have meaning, S’leen, we need to do this by H’kaah rules. No-no, hear me out.” She made it plain that she didn’t want to hear what she thought he was going to say, but he continued holding her at arms’ length until she calmed down.
“Darling, I’m not suggesting we have a traditional H’kaah wedding, nor do I want us to have a traditional H’kaah marriage. Neither of us are known for paying much attention to ‘tradition’, and I’m certainly not suggesting we start now.” She had remained calm as his words sunk in, but now she was confused. “What I’m trying to propose,” he explained, “is that we blend some elements of human wedding ceremonies with some of H’kaah, thereby creating something unique, something special to us. That should be a nice start to a lifetime together, one which I assure you will be anything but boring.”
Redeeming Factors (Revised) Page 35
