Roundabout Story Project
So this is the first of the string of stories written by everyone who is part of the roundabout project. if you want the rules and stuff please go here, ( http://www.sofurry.com/page/273427/user ) feel free to post if you want to be part of it :) should a story end and we have enough willing participants we can write others so feel free to toss your hat into the ring :P
Chapter 2: By RuthofPern
Chapter 5: By masterwolf2
so without further ado...
Chapter 1, by CrownedClown13.
Cory found himself sitting at the bar again, once more dragged to some club by his buddy Frank for some booze and women, but once again only taking part in half the offer. Turns out when you divorce your wife, she takes everything from you apart from your own clothes and things, and leaves a note saying she also took the cat and the fish and half custody of the twins, you don't feel like a lap dance. No Cory found, for the fourth time that week that his good friends Bud Weiser and Jack Daniels were the only good company under such conditions.
He felt his 'friends,' warming him up already, that bubbly grin that could turn sneer in a moment across his face. Fuck, Frank wasn't even giving him a pat on the shoulder, he was off somewhere in the crowd. Cory's real friends were keeping well away on his exact orders not to try and make him feel better for a while. Most agreed that if he didn't morn, it would haunt him like a ghost. Still, back-up party friend Frank was showing off exactly why he fell in a separate category.
"Another beer," Cory said, attracting the barkeeps attention by putting a ten down on the slab of fake wood that countenanced as the bar. Fuck, Frank wasn't even buying him a beer tonight. Still when you are in your late twenties and you still work at Wal-Mart without college somewhere in there; it was no surprise you wanted to drink and party your own problems away, hell even with all his clocked hours he was still complaining about working the register with a bunch of idiots.
Tonight's bar was called Tipsy. The name had as much class as the joint itself. Even for a Saturday night the women weren't great, and the people that showed up here for the cheap drinks were about as 'avoid at all costs,' as they come. One guy had already been kicked out for showing off a knife to one of the dancers. But it was downtown so Cory wasn't exactly expecting much.
Cory got his beer from the surprisingly cheerful and kindly bartender, his face smiling behind the full black beard, his gut large and apron stained, but still, he was the one thing decent about the place. Cory tipped the drink back, downing the drink to drown the pain. Karrie had been the one thing he loved more than anything, that beacon of light at the end of the work day. The kids were phenomenal, the apartment wasn't too bad, and the neighbours were even bearable. But after his little incident at work she was devastated and left, coming back in a week sure, but the following month had been terrible, they had both been hurting until they had finally divorced.
It was strange. If Cory looked back now he couldn't see her as that beacon anymore, he saw the good, but the divorce had opened his vision up to EVERY imperfection. He even found himself remembering how stupid she looked when she tried to strut away sexy. "Another," he said with yet another ten in hand. He never drank this much when he was married; he was always concerned with what Sara and Nathan would think of him, their beautiful little eyes that really weren't so little anymore if he thought about it. The thirteen year old twins were his pride and joy. They were the opposite of Karrie, he saw little imperfections before, but now they were his angels.
"You sure?" the bartender asked, beer in hand.
It was a kind gesture on his part, but Cory was in no mood, he glared up at the man giving a low growl of a "Yes," slamming the money on the counter in defiance.
A hand clasped his shoulder, "How yah doing buddy!" Frank asked, one lady on each shoulder. His breath was foul with booze and he spat the words out, a giggle escaping him as he essentially licked the women's faces until they realized he was going for a kiss and helped him along. "You uh-you doing any better?" he elbowed his 'friend,' "I know you are...don't lie!" he laughed, hiccoughing.
Cory did his best to ignore the man, taking the beer given to him and bringing the icy mouth to his lips, tipping it back a little. Frank slapped the bottle away, honestly surprising Cory. The drunker of the two getting in his face, eyes crossed, women elsewhere, "Hey! I was...I was talking to yah piss head," he laughed a bit at his own insult, not that it was clever and not that it mattered, in his own mind Frank probably looked like a big shot. "Now..." he put both hands on one of Cory's shoulders, "Tell me how yah been buddy!" His voice rose to an almost girlish pitch. Frank wasn't a big man, not burly in anyway, his pencil like figure had only a beer gut to keep up his pants, and his hygiene lacked in all cases.
Comparable Cory was beyond comparison; his short brown hair was cleaner and more kept than Frank's longer blonde. His muscles were well formed from High school and then the construction work he did before his current job. Cory had wider shoulders and a tall build, regrettably there was some fat there but he couldn't exactly hit the gym as much as he wanted too with work and family...well, now he probably could.
"I've been better," Cory grumbled, dropping all pride and reaching down to pick up his not-quite-empty bottle from the floor. Surprisingly enough the bottle was in the hand of another man, well, in the paw. Right before Cory's eyes was one of the Furs, a tiger to be exact, his large frame sporting a very large tee shirt and shorts which did nothing to indicate his figure. Regardless though, Cory only really noticed his eyes. When you work as an architect you meet a lot of people, so it wasn't his first time encountering the Furs. Not that he could have missed them in the supermarkets or on his team, so it may have been the beers talking, but Cory thought that this tiger had the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. The green pools seemed to take him someplace else, someplace calm and quiet and inviting. The Tiger's smile was all the more inviting, the simple and innocent grin that seemed almost childish was so beautiful on such a stunning creature...But he was a guy... 'It's definitely the beers talking,' Cory told himself, 'but he is...'
"What the fuck you want kitty cat?" Frank cut in rudely, physically pushing Cory practically from his chair to face the Fur, getting close in his face, "You trying to...to uhh, steal that?" He demanded, probably thinking he solved a million dollar police case.
The tiger looked perplexed and surprised at the sudden turn of events, "Umm, no I was not. I'm sorry you're mistaken, I was helping your friend get his-"
"EXCUSE ME," Frank said loudly, cutting off the tiger, "I believe I was asking the questions..." He took a moment to collect his thoughts.
"I was answering," The tiger groaned, pushing the beer down the counter to Cory, giving him a little look of pity, "Sorry."
Cory was equally confused, more so to why the cat was apologizing.
"Whoa whoa whoa...hold on there a moment kitty. I believe this bar is no furs aloud." (It wasn't, the segregation had ended over ten years ago.) "What do you think you're doing here?" He asked, turning back to Cory, "Feral trash," he giggled. "Probably can't read."
This time Cory snapped, sending a left hook into Frank's face, dropping the pencil neck instantly. Cory wasn't paying attention to the sudden attention he was getting, the barkeep, the fur and the people all looking at him like he was nuts, but he was just looking at the jack-ass who made his last few days worse than they should have been. He had to admit it was a satisfying punch, but it was a short lived joy, honestly he wished Frank could take a punch so he could keep going. But Frank was Frank, pathetic; so Cory found his seat again, reaching into his quickly emptying wallet, a warm hand stopping his.
Cory looked up at the Tiger, his green eyes dazzling, his smile sincere. "It's on me," he said, taking the seat beside Cory, both of them ignoring the man on the floor. The mysterious tiger ordered drinks, but Cory didn't hear what, his head was foggy and his interest in the specifics was dwindling by the second. The next thing he knew the feline was holding out a paw to shake, "Asher Miles," he introduced himself.
"C...Cory Stills," he managed, his eyes never leaving those of his new friend. "I'll pay don't worry," he managed, taking his gaze to the tall chilled glasses in front of them.
"No, no, it's on me," Asher insisted, "You did punch out a buddy for blatant racism, takes some guts," he threw in, starting to gulp from his own glass. "I don't think I would have done that. Don't think I could have...Very noble."
"In my defence, he was an ass and I'm drunk," Cory joked, bringing the glass to his lips moments before the tiger let out an all too joyous laugh.
"You're funny too huh?" The tiger asked, "You're the whole package, why are you here with..." he turned and looked down, "That?" He asked, looking up at Cory again, "You have to have better friends then him."
Cory nodded, "Yeah, but I uhh, just got a divorce from my wife," he said flatly like he was reading the news aloud, "So I told them to leave me alone a while." He pointed, "I figured he would help drown my sorrows because he's a wee bit pathetic and would know how."
"Works going nowhere?" Asher guessed.
"Wal-Mart," Cory offered, "Almost twenty years and still on register."
"Yikes." Asher breathed, "I'm in a collections agency," he smiled. "Pays decent and the monthly bonuses are pretty sweet."
"I'm an architect with 'Zander, Clark Construction.' The pays good and the hours are flexible."
It was casual talk, the basic get to know who you're dealing with kind of talk that wouldn't show up again if they were to keep talking. But for some reason when they started getting into the small talk about sports and their lives, and a few more drinks later Cory broke down and started crying. Everything at that point reminded his of Karrie.
"Whoa, you okay buddy?" he heard the barkeep ask, paws grabbing his shoulders.
"I'll take him home Lenny," Asher answered somewhere nearby. Cory was a sad sight to see if you knew the details, but Asher knew if you didn't, he was just another drunk. Cory felt himself be put in a car, and before he knew it and before he had time to wonder how the cat knew where he lived, he dozed off.
TBC by .......3Timer.