Page 20 of Trees Take the Long View

"I will, thanks. Is the place really that bad? It looks so fancy."

"Oh, it's fancy as fuck. But you should see the books." He nearly hid his smirk, but it was definitely schadenfreude in his eyes. "The newer members want out like rats from a sinking ship—but somebody else has to join before they can go. There's a waiting list and everything."

"Yeah? Tell me more. What about the judge, where's he rank?"

"Eh, he's the old guard who refuses to see any problems. Long as he's got his, he doesn't care."

Yep, that sounds like him, I thought. "Any dirt on the man?"

"Why, what do you need something on him for?" he said, as he slid the drink to me. Then his eyes flitted left again and he fell silent.

The man who'd been eyeing me up stepped closer, and introduced himself, and after that, the rest of the afternoon was shot.

I decided to pretend I actually was interested in a membership, just in case I needed to come back, but it was really irritating to pretend that spending thousands of bucks a year just to access "the green" was something I considered reasonable, even affordable. What a joke. I could have a better time in the forest for free than I ever could on some sterile, manicured lawn whacking a little white ball around. Bah.

I guess I'm not very sports-minded.

I didn't get a chance to talk to "Freddie" again, but he'd seemed more than willing to talk, so once I escaped the sales pitch, I hung around back and waited for him to appear. If he didn't want to talk, he wouldn't show up. I figured he knew everything about everything going on here and wouldn't miss a wolf hanging around out back.

I was right; he didn't.

He appeared while I was getting bored and trying not to think about food. I should've brought more snacks with me. I wasn't used to getting so hungry.

"What's the deal with you and the judge?" asked the fox, as he pulled off his apron. One minute he wasn't there, the next he was. Sly as a fox, and all that. Which I would never say to his face because it was probably rude, and I didn't want to get smacked.

I stood up from the rock I was sitting on, trying to look as smooth as possible, and not as if he'd caught me by surprise. "Is your name really Freddie?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" He shook back his hair, finger-combing through it and fluffing it up. There still wasn't much there in his aggressively masculine short cut, but he looked more like himself, somehow, with it messed up.

I grinned at him, and shrugged. "You're willing to talk, then?"

"You introduce yourself like some kind of cliché detective? Of course I'm willing to talk. I hope you have an expense account. Take me somewhere nice to eat."

"Nah, I'm not a detective. Just trying to help out my boyfriend."

"Oh?" He raised one eyebrow. "You keep mentioning this fabled boyfriend. Funny thing: you don't smell like sex. And I know how wolves are."

He was baiting me, and I ignored it. He probably got that shit all the time, the whole foxes as sex maniacs being a thing, and wanted to turn it around on me. But I wasn't bothered by the insinuation that yes, I liked sex quite a lot. "Would you listen? I'll explain the whole thing to you."

"Okay. But I better get dinner out of it."

"You'll eat like a king—a Burger King. Come on."

He laughed then, and followed me to the car. I told him about the owl and the judge and Dean's job here, and how I'd been hoping there was something I could do to help.

He took it all in while directing me where to drive. The man was obsessed with dinner. "So he really is your boyfriend, then—but not your mate? Still working that part out, huh?"

"You guessed it. But I think there's a good chance."

He snorted and looked away, out the window. He smelled a little bitter.

"I'm surprised you weren't scared to talk to me," I admitted. "A wolf coming into your territory and everything." Actually, come to think of it, I couldn't remember a single instance when a fox shifter had ever been intimidated by me.

"Afraid of you?" He snorted. "Don't make me laugh."

He directed me to a diner, and we sat made ourselves at home, filling a booth with fries and coffee and various meaty delights, and ate while we talked strategy about the judge. Most of what Freddie knew was hearsay, but he figured if Dean actually had connections with the S&P people, he could track down whether there was any truth in it pretty quickly.

Despite trying to seem mercenary, he was clearly interested in the case, would relish the chance to see the judge get smacked down in any way whatsoever, and felt some sympathy for the owl, despite his clear cynicism about the entire subject. ("That's what goes of working for the government, man. He shouldn't be surprised they decided to screw him over.")