Gill opened his mouth to curse. . .And not a damn word came
out. Shriller squirrel barks echoed
until canine barks answered. Gill slid
the minute guitar off his shoulder ready to toss it down and stomp off. He glanced around. No one—not any one of significance—would notice. So friggin’ much for being the Peak’s most
sought after ambassador.
In the darker corners of the photo studio, a muffle laugh
could be heard. Gill wanted to shield
his eyes and find the culprit. The ass
would answer or face. . . frig it twice over.
Whose bright numb nutted idea was this?
Some social secretary? A moronic public relations left over from Link’s
crew? Gill would find out who hired the
dumb one once they stop letting the moonlight in through the window.
“This way Mr. Mayor.
Smile for the camera. Just a few
more shots and the calendar will be done.”
Gill fought the urge to jump off the table and run up the photographer’s
pant leg. Gnaw his way up to his. .
.nope those nuts would leave one huge nasty taste that he’d never get rid of as
squirrel or human.
Gill sighed and closed his eyes as flashes stopped blinding
him. Much more and spots would be
haunting him in his sleep if he was ever allowed any again. Three throats cleared. Gill ignored them. A few minutes reprieve he’d earned. Even something more substantial than a
miniscule ground up nuts. Hell, give ‘em
a beer. A tall cold stout ale made from
Dante’s microbrewery. A fine steak from
Louie’s personal stash and . . .
“Come on Mr. Mayor.
Time to change into the Santa Claus costume.” Gill set the guitar down on the stand next to
him and he leaned on it. If anyone read
squirrel body language they would have thought twice about their next remark
and the props they dragged onto the table.
Six stuffed catnip mice looped with yarn and a miniature sleigh complete
with seat and reins. Somewhere in the outer
office a loud cat yowl was heard. Gill
swallowed hard.
“Be careful don’t let the cat in,” someone shouted. Gill looked behind him as a white blur leapt
toward him. He swallowed hard, counted
and prayed. He jumped and dove into the
first open space he saw.
Ten minutes later the photographer’s assistant began
shucking her clothes and cussing about a perverted squirrel in her thong
panties and lapping up and over her lacy covered breasts.
