“Are you all set,” Frances looking at Ben; “you have your school supplies with you?”
“What’s next,” Ben feeling exasperated; “you going to ask if I have a spare tooth brush and an extra pair shorts?”
Ben looked at his adoptive mother expecting an answer. Since the moment he got up this morning, she and Samantha have been badgering him with questions. What extracurricular courses will he be taking? Will he take an interest in politics; run for school president? It drove Ben to the point of nearly exploding into his werewolf fursona after he got dressed.
“This isn’t summer camp,” Ben growling; “no need to keep doing this year after year.”
“Don’t you talk to you mother like that,” Samantha snapping back; “you know she cares.”
“Nags more like it,” Ben getting up; “I need to meet up with Alex. At least he won’t browbeat me with pointless questions before we hitch a ride with Nate.”
Both Frances and Samantha look forlorn when Ben mentioned Nate; with their son not home at the time; Ben had no clue to what happened last night.
“You might want to wait for either us to finish up,” Samantha speaking up first; "that way we can give you and Alex a ride.
“So you can annoy me with more questions,” Ben shaking his head; “I think not.”
“Sit down,” Frances looking stern; “and check that attitude. If we ask you these questions, it’s because we care and are worried for you.”
“Nate was attacked yesterday evening,” Samantha speaking; “Frances and I witnessed a portion of it. Your friend is in the hospital and most likely won’t be making it to school today.”
“Nate got jumped,” Ben looking surprised; “who would be stupid enough to attack a were?”
“A couple of were-panthers,” Frances answering; “it is suspected that they were ordered to on the behest of…”
“Benton,” Ben growling; “it has to be him.”
“No,” Frances snapping back; “and don’t ask why I know. I just do.”
“Jack Crawford,” Samantha responding; “in retaliation to some slight. Although I don’t know what that would be.”
“You don’t suppose it had to do with,” Frances thinking before shaking her head; “it couldn’t be. Even that would be petty.”
“Well whatever,” Ben getting up; “I’m meeting up with Alex and we will walk to school. If Nate isn’t there we’ll visit him at the hospital.”
“Wait,” Samantha trying to get Ben back to the kitchen; yet it was too late. Ben made a beeline for the back door and dashed across the wooded area separating the Twist’s backyard with the Ramsey’s
“Let him go,” Frances sighing; “perhaps he is right. We do badger him with too many questions.”
“We just got over a serious blow up with Ben over Grrrrrrr,” Samantha shaking her head; “must we have another one?”
“Only if you push it,” Frances finishing her coffee and getting up from the kitchen table; “besides I need to get going. Rudy is expecting me and I got to make sure my office is free from anymore surveillance devices.”
Samantha nodded. Remembering Tachibana approaching them yesterday during the picnic; Samantha was shocked that the were-vixen informed Frances that her patient’s confidentiality was violated with evidence pointing to Jack Crawford having her office bugged. The same man who’s wife’s bid to run for mayor was torpedoed yesterday after Lance Knight’s ace reporter Ella outed her as escort agent Kendra Smythe.
“Before you go,” Samantha looking at her life partner; “what did you mean earlier about what it had to with?”
“I was thinking that the attack on Nate,” Frances grabbing her keys and purse; “was because Jack Crawford ordered it for breaking Kenya’s heart.”
“Now that would be petty,” Samantha scoffing in disbelief; “if Nate didn’t break up with her, then Kenya wouldn’t have run into the asshole’s arms.”
“We’ll never know,” Frances looking sympathetic; seeing that Samantha didn’t have any other questions, the were-feline leaves the house for work.
“I should leave as well,” Samantha speaking to no one in particular.
*********
“Mr. Brown,” a clerk could be heard speaking; “once you have signed this form and the fee paid you will be all set. I wish you luck on the upcoming election.”
“Thank you,” Brown smiling as he signs his name and places the money through the clerk's window slot; “I’m surprised you are open this early. I thought municipal agencies open at eight?”
“Generally yes,” the clerk answering; “but with the filing deadline looming so close…”
“Understandable,” Brown nodding; “you need to give everyone and equal chance to file. But I was wondering if you could do me a favor?”
“I cannot influence the election if that is what you are asking,” the clerk looking serious.
“Nothing like that,” Brown smiling; “I was wondering if you could pass these out to like minded individuals.” The clerk being handed some flyers as the man she was talking to made the trademark “W” with thumbs and forefingers indicating that like her, he was a were.
“Advertising,” the clerk looking confused; “I don’t follow.”
“I’m reopening my restaurant,” Brown speaking; “these flyers provide those who show up for lunch service a special meal instead of the usual set meals my establishment is famous for.”
“Is that wise,” the clerk looking concerned before lowering her voice; “we are still under a were-alert.”
“My restaurant is more than capable of operating while under the alert,” Brown speaking professionally; “Grrrrrrr will be open for business. And before you spout elder council orders,” Brown lowering his voice; “Awareness was never told to shut down and they cater to our needs.”
“Awareness doesn’t make patronizing their establishment in your fursona mandatory,” the clerk pointing out.
“My restaurant has the means to ensure those not like us never set foot and discovering our existence,” Brown responding; “I have told the acting mayor and the skulk leader about this time and time again. My restaurant will be open today,” the artic were-fox speaking; “and I expect to have those papers filed for my name on the mayoral ballot.”
The clerk just shook her head as she watched the were-fox leave city hall.
“Samantha is not going to like this,” the clerk sighing; looking at the papers, the clerk notes that the name filed was Chester Brown. With no choice, the clerk files the documents as there is nothing she could find to warrant rejecting them. Looking at the stack of advertising, the clerk shakes her head as she takes the pile and tosses it into the waste bin.