Canine Chaos 03

The music still thrummed through Beatrix’s body long after Canine Chaos left the stage. Her four arms hung tense, adrenaline coursing through her veins as the phantom vibrations pulsed in her three legs. She sank down beside her bandmates, watching the remaining acts while scanning the packed crowd of the Rusty Nail for any sign of Troy. ________________________________________ An hour later, the four dog girls trudged, exhausted yet satisfied, toward a fast-food joint. The involuntary twitching of their tails betrayed the lingering excitement. "Canine Chaos killed it onstage!" Echo, their leader, shouted, raising her soda in a toast. "You said it, sis!" Jetta chimed in. "Would've been better with beer, though." "Some of us open the café at dawn," Nyx lamented. "Anyway, we crushed it tonight," Echo declared. They laughed, devouring greasy fries and burgers as they dissected their set. They knew alternative record label scouts had been in the audience, scouting the bands. "That was our tightest performance yet," Nyx stated before crunching a potato chip. "Well, what about Rotten Tomatoes? They were solid too." "Rotten Tomatoes reeks!" Nyx shouted. "Yeah, obviously—they are Skunks," Echo conceded. "But they're also really good." "I guess they are," Nyx sighed. "Still, our shot's real. We might actually land some gigs," Jetta exclaimed, stretching contentedly. "Right, Bea?" "What? Me?" Beatrix asked, snapping out of her daze. "Yeah, you. You were nervous as hell about playing, and you haven’t said a word." "Guess I'm still buzzing from the set," Beatrix murmured, looking down. "Or maybe your head's somewhere else?" Nyx prodded. "Like on that lanky guy who handed you the pick?" They all fixed Beatrix with knowing smirks. She silently bit her hamburger, ears flattening as she tried to look away. "No… don't be ridiculous. He's just my neighbor," she muttered. "Oh, sure," Jetta mocked, clicking her tongue. "And he went to the Rusty Nail just to give you a pick? Standard neighborly behavior." "He likes music too! He probably came for the other bands," Beatrix protested, flushing. "Might not have even heard us." "Oh, he heard you," Nyx said around a mouthful of chips. "Stared at you the whole time from the side of the stage." "You're making that up," Beatrix retorted, annoyed. Nyx just laughed. "Fine, he's just your neighbor," Jetta teased. "But the real question is… do you like him?" "What?! No, of course not. I mean… there's nothing there. He's not really my type, but… I don't dislike him. He's just… nice. Seems like a decent guy, that's all." "Well, that's a start," Jetta smiled, fangs glinting. "Good people are rare. When you find one, don't let them slip away." She grabbed the back of Echo’s neck and pulled her into a passionate kiss. "Ugh, get a room!" Nyx complained, still eating. Echo straightened up, flustered, after Jetta released her. "Jetta's got a point, but take your time. If he's your neighbor, a good relationship matters." "Yeah, maybe I'll be a little friendlier," Beatrix admitted, still embarrassed. "And once you're friends," Nyx declared, finishing her chips, "then you fuck him." Beatrix nearly choked on her soda. ________________________________________ It was nearly midnight when Beatrix stumbled back to her apartment, fatigue heavy in her three legs. She leaned her guitar case against the wall and stretched, her four hands kneading her shoulders. That's when she noticed the light on the balcony opposite hers. Curious, she peered out and saw him: Troy, coffee cup in hand, leaning on his railing. He looked up. For a second, they froze. "H-hi," he managed, awkwardly raising a hand. "Hello," Beatrix replied, her ears twitching nervously. "You were… your whole band was spectacular," Troy said. "Not that I'm some big expert, but… wow. It sounded incredible." "You really think so?" Beatrix asked, leaning on her own railing. "I didn't think you were there for us." "I caught your set and left after. Thought about coming over to say something, but figured your friends might give you hell if I did." "Guaranteed," Beatrix laughed. "We've never played that well before. Think we were hyped knowing scouts might be there." "Solid motivation," Troy agreed. "Want some coffee?" "No thanks. Early shift tomorrow—caffeine won't help." A brief silence fell before Troy blurted out, staring into his near-empty cup, "I really liked your playing. You can tell you love it." Beatrix felt her whole body simultaneously wanting to vanish and leap over the railing. "Thanks," she said softly, stroking one tail for comfort. "I... guess I just try my best." "And… not to be weird, but you looked amazing up there… and, well, out here too," Troy added, flushing. "Th-thanks. Better than my usual baggy hoodie look, I guess," Beatrix said. "That hoodie has its own charm." "I don't usually show this much skin," Beatrix admitted. "Maybe I lost a bit of my shyness after someone saw me naked yesterday." Troy turned tomato-red. "I-I'm so sorry! I didn't mean—" "Don't worry, I know," Beatrix laughed. "And I'm sorry for what I yelled and threw. I almost lost my lucky fingernail over it." "Speaking of…" Troy ducked inside and returned with a small box. "Everything you launched at me." "Wow, that's… really sweet," Beatrix said, accepting it. "Yeah, well… Kinda crazy how close these balconies are, huh?" Troy asked, shifting topics. "Three feet. Easy jump if you don't mind plummeting to your death," Beatrix quipped. "Noted. At least we can talk without yelling," Troy observed. They shared a look, a thread of understanding passing between them, until Troy broke it. "I should crash. Early shift." "Me too," Beatrix replied. "Shouldn't be drinking coffee then." "Bad habit," he admitted, turning to go. Beatrix stepped inside, heart racing. She undressed and collapsed onto her bed, staring at the ceiling. Her tails swished uncontrollably; a tremulous smile touched her lips. "Pathetic," she murmured, patting her cheeks. "Getting this worked up over a balcony chat. Must be touch-starved." She lay there, thoughtful, her four hands clasped over her belly as if trying to hold onto the unfamiliar warmth blooming inside.