Page 14 of Outfoxed

“I have a bank account.” I rarely used it, but I kept the rent money in it because McCoy played it legitimate with his waitresses, and our pay went into bank accounts while we got to keep our tips in cash.

The bank had let him open the accounts for us on our behalf, skipping the paperwork that may have otherwise sunk me.

“If you can transfer the funds for your month today, you can walk out with the signed lease now. It takes about thirty minutes. The lease itself is simple; it’s standard, including inheritance clauses. The only addition is that you have to come over and visit once a month to pay the rent and have a cup of coffee with me.”

Some conditions tested my patience far more than others. “I can handle that.” I lifted my coffee in a toast to him. “Best rent conditions I’ve had since I came to the Alley.”

“I figured that might be the case. I’m Carlton Salsbury, but call me Carl.”

“I’m Jade. You have a cellar here?”

Carl nodded. “Won’t do me much good when a swarm finally blows through here, though. It’s not deep, not like the one down the way ya get when ya sign. Old men like me, we don’t need to live forever. I’ll save the livin’ forever to you young folks. I’ll enjoy the time I’ve got while I got it, and that’s that.” He gestured down a hallway. “Come along, Jade. I ain’t got all day for paperwork, so let’s get a move on. Then we can drink some more coffee, get your rent paid, and drink even more coffee.”

He probably viewed the rental as a business, but I recognized when I got a new lease on life, and I didn’t care how many times I had to shift to dig out the cellar and make the space mine.

If the cellar was even half as good as it sounded, I’d make certain no damned bounty hunter ruined things for me. They’d just have to live with their disappointment and keep dreaming about the money they might’ve made off me.

On second thought, I’d make sure Sandro caught a glimpse of me every now and then so he stuck around. My life needed a little spice, and dealing with his hot ass beat facing off against Mother Nature and her damned storms.

Three

In Tulsa, still standing barely counted as surviving.

Friday, May 1, 2043.

Tulsa, Oklahoma.

The Alley.

The instant I saw my new flop, I understood why Carl had leased it to me for a steal and had given me a flashlight and spare batteries. The home had been boarded up tighter than Fort Knox, patched time and time again as it withstood Mother Nature’s fury.

The builders had made something meant to last, and it showed. It wouldn’t survive Tulsa. Nothing would unless something changed. I still stopped and marveled that someone had built something capable of defying Mother Nature at her worst for so long.

It saddened me that the building would soon be reduced to ruin, with its storm cellar being the only thing left of realistic value. If the cellar was anything like promised, I’d be guilty of robbing Carl blind on the rent. I resumed marveling over how the patchwork home had survived the storms that had taken out every other house on the street. The roof had seen better days, but it, too, had been patched in an act of pure defiance.

In Tulsa, still standing barely counted as surviving. I’d have to decide if I’d fix where a twister had ripped off a corner of the roof and left the attic exposed to the elements. I probably would, if only to respect the tradition of defiance that had kept the structure standing for so long.

On the edge of the outskirts, nobody but me would view the place as anything other than rubble in the making or a salvage target. My nearest neighbors were a street and a half down, and their shacks sprouted from the ruins of old homes with the tenacity of dandelions in the cracks of sidewalks.

In some ways, I admired those brave and foolish enough to test Mother Nature in her territory.

My new home represented more than just a place to sleep. Within its walls, I’d find safety, shelter, and the illusion of freedom. Only the insane would look for me on the edge of Tulsa’s outskirts, a place deemed so dangerous not even the tax collectors dared to come calling for fear of becoming the next storm victim.

In what I considered to be a lapse of sanity, I hoped Sandro was insane enough to search for me but clever enough to survive Mother Nature’s fury. He’d make the challenge of dodging the bounty worth it.

Every time I evaded him, I wanted to watch the play of expressions over his face as he comprehended he’d been outfoxed by a woman he considered to be a lowly vagrant. The challenge he represented would keep me sharp. He’d force me to hone my skills. He’d force me to practice my shapeshifting so I could transition from fox to woman and back again more than once or twice a day without taking risks. I’d keep a close eye out for him and his bounty hunter brethren. I’d create several bolt holes I could use as a fox and some I could slip through even when human. I’d have to accept the risks of shifting more frequently to access the cellar once I dug it out to my satisfaction. With luck, it would have a ventilation shaft large enough for me to use as an entry point.

If the cellar didn’t have any functioning ventilation shafts, I would have to make one.

The work never ended, but I didn’t have much time before the next storm was scheduled to sweep through and only a few hours of the day left before I needed to get some sleep and go back to the grind. I’d go hungry until tomorrow, but I’d eat something at work. With the risk of a bad blow on the horizon, the kind that would kill a lot of people, I couldn’t afford to hunt as a fox.

I definitely couldn’t afford the twenty minute walk to the nearest place that served food I could afford.

I’d gotten used to the reality that raw meat beat starving, but I’d have to starve until I went to work. My boss made a point of feeding us, as a well-fed staff worked better. With the money I was saving on my rent, I might even be able to afford eating more than once a day—or once every other day.

Assuming I could avoid Sandro and the other bounty hunters, I might even make some headway in life for a change.

One of the four keys Carl had given me worked, and I cracked open the door to peek inside the house.