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Who defined certain relationships as 'taboo'?

What factors made modern-day society decide which kinds of love were unacceptable to let flourish? Discovering the full name of my sexuality on a website during my teenaged years, I asked myself why the world didn't accept relationships that never harmed anyone. Most of the time those nuances all boiled down to ancient texts. The prophet or apostle of one version of God wrote it down so it must be true or the biological need to produce healthy offspring had higher priorities. Forget attractions to the same sex or, understandably enough, your own flesh and blood. Unfortunately for one of my past clients, he couldn't deny to himself a relationship involving both the former and the latter.

Crossroads City had been enduring a sweltering heatwave for the previous week; the Utah summertime embedded itself on the pavement when the breaking rainfall finally began. Droplets of mountain rain had been pelting the sidewalk outside while furs relaxed indoors or stood under canopies or at bus stops, waiting for the next short break in the morning drizzle.

On one street corner a few blocks short of Main Street, Danny's Boulevard of Books & Coffee happily provided everyone a warm cappuccino. It provided me with things to do on the second week without a client. Most of the time, it involved me making sure Daniel's newest employee--a she-wolf named Marissa, fresh from her second semester of college--of the summer didn't fuck up customer orders. Meanwhile, the St. Bernard did his usual interview with a scrawny teenaged bat who wanted the open barista position.

The weather meant there weren't as many customers as usual. During my bouts of boredom, I liked discreetly watching other furs. Working as a private investigator, I couldn't help myself (plus, I could read lips). The lioness/mountain lion couple seated in the corner booth talked about meeting each other's parents. A lonely business wolf one table away from them stared at his tablet between sipping down his cappuccino like it was the only thing keeping him sane. Three high school furs were having an obnoxious conversation regarding some bullshit drama within their circle of friends. A nun sat quietly reading a book, though I couldn't tell if it was the Bible or not--as the twenty-something fox behind her feverishly typed away at his laptop's keyboard, his cup of coffee long forgotten as he gaped at the screen. Either he was an aspiring writer or a desperate fur trying to get his thesis finished on time.

A dog came through the door, startling me from my bored daze. When I turned to see the new customer, I was surprised to see a young Dalmatian. He seemed at least eighteen or seventeen, though it could be hard to tell. From the way he glanced back and forth between the walls and the line for the register, as well as the large black backpack astride on his right shoulder, I knew he didn't plan on ordering a latte.

Marissa went to give Table Ten their orders as the Dalmatian stopped her and quietly said, "Excuse me. I dunno if I got the right address, but..." he held the straps on his backpack with both paws, "is this where L-Leander Investigations is?"

A large grin almost comically stretched its way across my feline muzzle and my tail roughly smacked at the floor; finally, another client for me to help out!

"Hey Marissa, do you think you can handle things on your own until Daniel's back here?" I asked the she-wolf before she could answer him. "Be honest."

"I think so," she nodded. "Yeah, I think I can manage, Mr. Leander."

The Dalmatian jerked his head and stared at me. He looked me up and down like he could hardly believe I appeared the part of a freelance private investigator. Not the first time a client said it, honestly. Most expected an imposing, muscular and tall canine as opposed to a short, toned, male calico in his late twenties.

I waved him over, "So then, if you'll follow me please...you look like you have some things to discuss with me in private, correct?"

"Y-Yes, I do." He nodded. "Thank you."

I guided the Dalmatian to the door leading in the direction of the staircase connecting the first and second floors, then towards a locked door that carried a foggy window with the phrase 'Leander Investigations, LLC' plastered in front. Ever since I had it specially ordered and tinted, Daniel wouldn't stop teasing me about how cliched it made my business appear.

To my credit, the interior of the small room didn't fit the cliched profile of a private eye's office. The organized metal desk wasn't completely littered with empty beer bottles, a used ashtray, bourbon hidden under said desk, several stuffed filing drawers, a fedora hat, or a messy bed collecting dust in the corner; none of that. I preferred to stay organized on the job. However, secretly, I did in fact love monologuing to myself in my chair.

"So, what brings you all the way over here?" I asked after turning the light on and safely closing the door behind us. "Shouldn't you be getting ready for school in the Fall, kid?"

"I graduated in May," the Dalmatian curtly replied.

"You're eighteen then?" He firmly nodded. "Got proof? I have a policy against helping someone who isn't allowed to legally vote or die for our country..."

Setting the apparently heavy backpack down on the client's chair opposite my desk, he rifled through it until he pulled out a Utah driver's license. He offered and I looked it over. He turned eighteen in April. Underage furs tried hiring my services a few times (they all involved petty high school gossiping shit), but luckily for the Dalmatian, I instantly knew a fake I.D. card when I saw one.

"Good, good," I sighed, giving it back to him with a confident, reassuring smile. If a young adult dog like him was seeking someone like me out, then they needed more than help with a usual infidelity case. "What brings you here then, Mr. Alnwick?"

"W-Well," the canine placed his backpack down beside the chair and joined me in sitting down at our respective chairs. "See, it's my brother. My twin brother, Jasper...he's been missing since April."

Jackson Isaac Alnwick II. If I didn't already keep occasional tabs on influential furs or the general rumor mill, I wouldn't have known the young Dalmatian's father--Alnwick, Sr.--worked as the editor-in-chief for the Crossroads City Chronicle. The elder Dalmatian's salary, decent shareholdings and a sizable inheritance from his late grandfather were more than enough to make him a reputable socialite in high society. He could've moved to anywhere else in America but choose to stay behind in Utah.

Probably wanted to remain a big fish in a small pond, in my humble opinion.

He and his born-again wife spent years trying to have a cub. When they eventually did, they had not one but two miracles: Jackson Junior and Jasper, both of whom grew up under a loving, albeit strict and ambitious household.

According to Jackson, the loving home had long since turned cold when tragedy struck.

"Jasper and I were inconsolable when the doctors told us how long she had," Jackson explained uneasily. "Mom told Dad not to be angry at God or to grieve too long, but he didn't listen. Dad...changed after the funeral. Changed in a bad way. Focused more on work, raised his voice at us more, put more pressure on me to get straight A's, he...he told us never to mention her in the house. It especially got bad when Jasper started acting out."

"Acting out, how?" I inquired of spotted canine.

"Breaking rules, breaking curfew, not doing as Dad said, getting on his nerves when he could. It got much worse when Jasper said he didn't plan to go to a university, let alone want to." He stared down at his phone. "Anyway, he...D-Dad threw Jasper out of the house the night we turned eighteen, confiscated his cellphone and told him to never come back or he'd...he'd kill him. I haven't seen Jasper since then..."

Jackson trembled in his seat, either out of fear towards his twin or anger for his old man. Perhaps and most likely both. Regardless, I needed more information. "Was there a reason your father disowned him?"

"I uh, um...I don't know?" he cocked an ear, then shook the uncertainty visibly seen on his monochrome muzzle. "I don't know. It just happened out of nowhere, I guess. Dad's fucking strict and threatened to...he threatened to..."

"Did he threaten to hurt you?" I asked, to which he nodded in frustration.

"He's just fucking psycho, Mr. Leander! Last week, he went so far as to say I was grounded for life when I broke curfew. He also tried to take my phone and...and threatened to keep me locked in my room. T-That's when I knew...I-I had to get away from there."

The Dalmatian was lying. Not about the dysfunctional family dynamic or that Jasper had been unexpectedly disowned by their rich daddy. That all sounded genuine. However, the way in which Jackson offered a vague answer and how he bit his lower lip, as well as avoiding initial eye contact meant there was something else.

What else did Alnwick Sr. threaten to do though? Secretive clients were nothing new though, and the promise of a challenge looked enticing enough.

"I-I only have a few thousand dollars or so." Jackson riffled through his backpack again to produce a Ziplock bag filled to the brim with what appeared to be dozens of twenty and hundred-dollar bills, plus some loose change. All of it looked fresh out of an ATM. "I don't know if it's enough for what you charge, but I need to find him. I need Jasper. I'm tired of Dad and just need to be with the only other fur out there who cares about me."

"Please," he insisted, "I need to know where Jasper is, Mr. Leander."

I thought over the pros and cons of taking on a client such as him, then shrugged.

"Call me 'Zack'." I spoke while graciously taking one-hundred dollars and handing it back, bewildering the canine as if he expected a hardline no, "Consider what I took to be your deposit. You can give me the balance when I find your brother, okay?"

"O-Okay. Thank you, Mr. Leander--I mean, Zack!"

I nodded. "Listen here though. I know a white liar when I meet one. If you don't wanna tell me the truth about why you're really running away, that's fine. I won't dig into it unless it'll help the investigation. Deal?"

A flicker of hope crossed the content smile on his muzzle. "Deal!"

We shook paws and I immediately went straight to work.

Later telling me he booked a motel room near the interstate bus stop (another clue to add to the archives), Jackson divulged everything he could about his twin brother.

Comparing the two of them, Jackson Alnwick II represented the optimistically curious, polite yet mature student who dutifully studied and preferred following the rules--most of the time. Meanwhile, Jasper Alnwick represented the down-to-earth, boisterous, and outgoing twin, the one who favored practical and outdoor hobbies. Both did share an intense love for competitive swimming growing up, and yet, they rarely strayed apart since cubhood. Their differences did not mean anything to them, except for Alnwick Sr., who had become extremely adamant that both his sons attend the same university he did.

Unbeknownst to anyone though, Jackson did not plan to attend...at least, not within the confines of his controlling father's walls and roof. Once Jasper disappeared, the Dalmatian intentionally botched his A.C.T. exams ("Failing on purpose and making it look convincing is harder than it sounds, Zack.") until Alnwick Sr. relented in letting him have a year off until the next exams the following year.

Fucking moron, but smart lad.

"Do you know anywhere that your brother could've gone to?"

He sighed in defeat, scrolling through his phone. "I messaged all our previous classmates and teammates at school. Nothing."

I cleared my throat, "What about extended family?"

"Not that I'm aware of...Dad's parents are dead, and Mom's is somewhere in the Northwest," Jackson shrugged, "but there is one guy: Eddie Villard. He owns this automotive and repair shop Jasper loved interning at. Almost called it his second home. And before you ask, yes, I did consider checking him out, but the problem is that--"

"--Eddie himself is best buds with your dad?" I surmised quickly.

Jackson blinked a few times, then tentatively nodded. "Well, more like a friend of a friend, but they know each other. Eddie's a good guy, but the moment I walk inside his shop and Eddie hears from my Dad I didn't come home, he'll tell him I was there. You...You won't tell, will you?"

Smiling earnestly from my side of the desk, I googled the location of Eddie's Tire & Auto Repair, "Your secrets are my secrets, kid."

***

I held mixed feelings towards auto shops. Not the workers or the hobby itself of fixing cars, but the atmosphere in general. Ever since me and my older sisters were forced to wait with our parents as burly furs fixed the family's minivan, I never liked the smell of dried motor oil, or the sight of old, boring magazines stacked all over a lonely side table.

A job was a job though. Promising to keep him updated on what I found, Jackson Alnwick Jr. returned to his motel room after exchanging cellphone numbers with me. The morning drizzle turned into breaking clouds by the time I told Danny that I'd be out and about for a new case (the St. Bernard only asked I be careful like always), walking the several blocks distance between the café and the first suspect location where I'd find the missing twin.

Eddie's Tire & Auto Repair lay nestled between an intersection, right beside a spindly old chapel in need of renovation, and adjacent to a long boulevard of storefronts. The main garage lay connected to a small office building, with the lobby and waiting area on the first floor, so I entered and politely wondered if I could talk to the owner. Sometimes, the simplest way to get information was to be upfront and straightforward in an investigation, but a good portion of the time involved telling a white lie here and there.

"What can I do for you Mr. Leander?" asked Eddie Villard, a muscular, Daddy-like crocodile who insisted that the 1980s lived on in his denim jacket and jeans. "Joey in the lobby said you're what, some detective or something?"

Sitting in his big, cushy desk behind his cluttered office desk, the crocodile's yellow teeth and twitching, friendly smile indicated I interrupted his smoking break, so I decided to be quick. Last thing I needed early on in a case was a neurotic lead.

"Licensed P.I. to be exact," I clarified, "and I'm wondering if I can ask you some questions about an intern of yours? His name's Jasper Alnwick."

"The Alnwick brat?" he raised a fascinated eyebrow directed at me. "Who wants to know?"

"My client is an old classmate of his." I pulled out a pen and notepad from my jacket, standing beside the chair opposite of him. "I can't say much, obviously, but they're really interested in finding his whereabouts. Can you tell me when he last worked in your garage downstairs?"

The old crocodile sucked in a deep breath, "I'm as lost as you. That boy stopped showing up here weeks ago. All I know is his old man...well, kicked him to the curb."

"Kicked to the curb?" I feigned confusion, hoping to gain more information.

"Well, you didn't hear it from me," Eddie stretched an arm behind him, "but Jasper's dad told me he caught the brat hiding some heroin and coke in his backpack. Apparently, my rookie mechanic has been dealing for some time."

"Has he now?" I asked, hiding my skepticism behind a neat layer of surprise. "My client never mentioned that Jasper was a junkie."

"I should've known there was something behind that little shit from the start." He scoffed gruffly, "Shame that the best mechanics turn out to have a catch to them. I really thought better of him. Most rookies new to the job couldn't hold a flashlight over an engine, let alone fix it."

"Do you have any idea where he could be?"

"No clue. Probably getting high off his own shit..."

The only legitimate information Eddie Villard could provide me was that he did frequently notice the Dalmatian texting somebody. Acting like some lovestruck puppy, Jasper would constantly smile down at the replies and protectively hide the screen from view of anybody in the break room. One of his coworkers, a rhino, did casually say he ran into Jasper a week prior at a grocery store, and a short conversation between them did say the Dalmatian resided in some homeless shelter. Which one, he didn't say.

It wasn't like Crossroads didn't already have two-dozen of them.

When I called Jackson an hour later and explained that his twin brother had a secret girlfriend, he was quick to act shocked about it, asking if I was sure Villard knew what he saw.

"What makes you think it's impossible for Jasper to have a girlfriend?"

He didn't reply for two seconds.

"I...W-Well, you see, he...he and I...I don't know. It just doesn't seem like him."

"...okay then." I sighed. "Whatever it may be, I still need to look at some other leads, but I'll tell you if I suspect anything? You just stay at your room and relax, okay, Jackson?"

"Okay, Mr. Leander."

"Again, call me Zack."

"Sorry, Zack. I just...if I have anything at all that can help you, I'll call."

"Okay. Thanks. Bye."

Something was clearly up.

With little other details uncovered, I decided to go to the private investigator's modern ace in the hole for finding a missing person: the World Wide Web. To be more specific, I returned to my office back at Danny's Boulevard of Books & Coffee--still going strong once the clock struck six in the evening--and scoured through all of Jackson and Jasper Alnwick's social media profiles. For a good two hours, I did nothing but search through their public posts and the photos, hoping that if Jasper didn't leave behind a digital pawprint of his whereabouts. Maybe give me another clue about his secret girlfriend.

Weeks before the twins' eighteenth birthday and the falling out, Jasper tagged a female golden retriever named Dana Burg multiple times, often accompanied by a selfie of them together. Trice appeared to be at a large movie theater downtown, in front of a bakery a block away from their high school and during prom. In fact, she happened to be Jasper Alnwick's senior prom date.

Telling Daniel that I'd be out and about once again ("I'm cooking a pizza, Zack. You want me to save you a few slices?" he asked, and I smiled and replied, "Sure thing, but please don't keep the olives in it like you did last time." The St. Bernard snickered and answered, "No promises! I'm not your damn housewife!"), I decided to contact Dana Burg for a quick interview. She happened to be working at a retail store for the summer, so I waited until her lunch break until we were able to speak. After reassuring her that I definitely wasn't a scammer nor wanted to steal her best-selling novel idea--I had to show my P.I. badge and a link to my website to prove credibility--the flustered golden retriever finally explained the truth.

"Sure, we went to prom, but we weren't really together." Dana Burg confessed with a shrug, "Jasper told me he was in the closet. I know, right? Shocking! The only other fur who knew about the whole 'gay thing' was his sweet brother, who got to go to prom with that bitchy Sara Lambert." The golden retriever sighed. I envied how naïve teenagers were in romance. "Anyway, I didn't mind. The poor guy didn't want his rich dad to suspect a thing, so we went on a few dates, and we had so much fun."

I nodded unceremoniously while furiously writing every detail down in my notepad. "Thank you for telling me."

"So how is Jasper doing?" she offhandedly asked, "I heard rumors he took some drugs and is in rehab. Is it true? And...do you know any good publishers?"

***

A secret boyfriend? The possibility exists, I thought to myself as I looked through their profiles. It'd certainly explain why Alnwick would kick his own son out, cut off all ties and keep Jackson from maintaining contact with the twin if he's outcasted.

I had to strike that theory down, however.

If latent homosexuality were the main reason for Alnwick Sr. to disown Jasper, it didn't make sense for Jackson to say he didn't know the reason why. It contradicted what Jasper's beard told me. Granted, Crossroads City did happen to be the capital of a religious, socially conservative state such as Utah, but Jackson would have to know I advertised myself as a professional. Did he also miss the demisexual flag pin I had on my jacket?

Anyway, I had to rule out just homophobia being the main reason. I returned to my office, once again browsing through social media as if I were a stalker.

There's gotta be something else involved, I concluded while continuing to mindlessly analyze and scour every photo on MuzzleScroll of the twins' profiles. The Dalmatian is scared about telling me. Maybe his father already knows? Or suspects?

Whatever compelled Alnwick Sr. to secretly disown one son but keep the other on a tight leash, the logic said it had to be something that the father couldn't risk getting out to the public. According to the runaway's testimony, the twins shared every secret together and were inseparable...wait.

It can't be real, I thought tiredly to myself, staring at the photo, Am I really seeing shit now?

_ _ My computer screen displayed a pristine photograph of Jackson and Jasper Alnwick on their seventeenth birthday. They were posing together in front of a large window displaying the logo of an indoor waterpark, both of them smiling brightly to whoever held the camera, the monochrome fur on their toned limbs dripping with water as they were dressed in nothing but matching blue-and-green swim trunks. Nothing remarkable aside from what I noticed in the background of the photo.

Thanks to a coincidence of lighting from the camera or the cool weather outside, if I zoomed in a little to the window's reflection, I could see one of the twins' rear, and one of their paws squeezing it.

Whenever the Dalmatian twins appeared in their profiles, more often in smiling selfies or candid photos of them at school events or in public, they were close. Too close if one looked intrusively enough. In one other photo taken from a previous Halloween party, together dressed as identical vampires, they were grinning cheek-to-cheek. In fact, if I didn't know they were brothers, half the time, the photos of them together seemed more like they were close enough to be like...boyfriends.

_ "I'm tired of Dad and just need to be with the only other fur out there who cares about me."_