*Brring-brring*
"Hello?"
"Hey babe, I just wanted to call you and give you an update. We talked it over with the attorney and and the commission approved our application. We'll be doing an IPO next month."
"Oh my God, Gabriel! That's so exciting! Ahh! I'm going to take you out tonight, this calls for a celebration!"
You smile, your whiskers brushing against the screen. Your girlfriend always knew how to make a good day even better.
"Yeah, I'll fill you in on the details when I get home. I just can't believe everything's falling into place."
Your girlfriend makes a high-pitched laugh. "I always knew you would, love. Can't wait to see you!"
You nod, your brown eyes sparkling. "Yeah, see you later. Love you!"
"Love you too!"
You hang up the phone, a big smile still plastered on your face. It was hard to believe you finally hit it big. Ever since you finished college five years ago, you'd thrown your life into tech startups. First there was Peckle, then Dydiva...and finally, your currently company, Luzera, which you'd toiled at for two and a half years.
Unusually for a start-up, the core staff was still in place. There's you, who serves as a CEO of sorts, though for a small company you felt more like a jack-of-all-trades, moving where you needed to ensure something was done on time and on budget. There's Travis, a gazelle who was the lead coder; Jacqueline, a dragoness whose job essentially revolved around finding investors; and Kazu, a Shiba Inu in charge of PR, sales and consumer marketing. Kazu's partner, a pine marten named Noah, worked for the company doing web design.
Although maybe not in the best of professional values, your co-workers are also your friends; it was hard not to get close as you brought your company to life over the past few years. Travis is a freaking sage, Jackie gives you advice on all things woman, and Kazu and Noah are your style and etiquette guides (fitting for a pair whose pet project was a fashion blog called "Menstyle Dog"). You arrive back to the office you guys rented, a small but well-appointed facility on the edge of the business district. You're rather fond of the eucalyptus tree that grew outside your office window.
As you enter, Jackie stops you before you can take ten steps into the building. "Gabe, I need your help. The Croydon Group wants a presentation on our rollout to-date and future plans for a meeting tomorrow at 10 AM."
Your heart sinks. That meeting was supposed to be next week. "Ugh, are you kidding me? I promised to do dinner tonight wi-"
Jackie cuts you off. When she's stressed, she becomes the ice queen. "I'm sorry, but we need this for tomorrow, these guys are one of our largest investors." You make a defeated grunt and shake your head. "Okay, okay, I'll get something ready."
***
"What do you mean you have to work late?! Again! Gabe, this isn't fair."
You sigh. "I'm sorry."
You could hear the tension over the phone; whereas Jackie became the ice queen, your girlfriend had a temper. Finally, you hear an exasperated moan. "Gabriel, I'm glad things are working out over there, but I want my boyfriend back."
You rub your forehead with your hand. "I know, I know...just for a little while longer."
"...Okay. I love you." She sounds a bit sulky, and you can't blame her. When was the last time you two had a night out? Heck, when was the last time you two even had a nice dinner at home? For Heaven's sake, it's been three weeks since you've had sex and you share the same damn bed. You're just too tired when you get home to think of anything else but sleep. She hangs up, and you look at the skeleton of a presentation you have on your computer screen, halfheartedly returning to work.
You've been together for four years, and you're thinking of taking the next step, her ring size written on a slip of paper in your wallet. You met on the dance floor, and it was like a spark was ignited, the two of you dancing together for the whole night and into the morning (rather slyly, you note that the dancing became horizontal at some point). You always had a love of dancing, your friends joking all Brazilians pop out of the womb doing the Samba (your family moved here when you were 10). You two have been together ever since.
Every year, she seemed to have a new goal in order to make you a better man. The first year, it was to quit smoking. The second, to cut out junk food. The third, to get you in the gym. She seemed to become a little less effective each year; you stopped smoking and rarely ate junk food, but the gym was a mixed bag. That required time you didn't have. You knew she loved fit, strong guys, but you were nothing special, a sedentary, stressful professional life taking its toll. Skinny arms and a small gut are not about to light her physical passions.
You'd be lying if you said that didn't worry you a little. Whenever she walks past a buff guy, her eyes stray. A jacked guy, and she'll turn her head to look and then play it off. It was harder and harder not to notice. It was times like this you wish you were more like your cousins, Trevor and Wesley. Wesley actually competed as a bodybuilder, though you suspected he was juicing and selling himself to pay for it all. Trevor wasn't as bad, but he seemed to put on twenty pounds of muscle overnight. You would kill to look like them, but you were so busy here...
Time flies. The next thing you know, it's 8 PM, the sky almost completely dark. Your stomach growls, you're famished. You sigh and head out for a bite to eat.
You try to avoid spending more money than you had to. It's not that you're ever short on cash; you make a good living, and come from a well-off family. But it's the principle of being abstemious with one's allowances.
Your nose picks up on an alluring scent. Spicy, a little bit of chili powder and maybe some red pepper, it smells delicious. You follow it to...oh fuck...
An open dumpster. Your girlfriend and parents would kill you. You can hear your mother's shrill voice now. "Gabriel, we do not live in a favela, you embarrass us every time you dig into the garbage!" You're a pure-bred raccoon, and dumpster diving is virtually encoded into your genes. It was a tough, tough habit to break, and one that you tried to keep as discreet as possible.
You take off your shirt, vest and tie. No sense in sullying your clothes. You know this will look extremely bad if you get caught, but your nose doesn't lie, and you're saving money...and there's a lot of perfectly good food that gets tossed out, why waste it? It's not like you're eating rancid meat, it's not worth getting sick over, but if something's fresh, well, carpe diem.
You climb over the side and into the dumpster. There's some gross things in here, sure, but most of it is bagged (better than some other occasions...) As you stumble between the bags, your eyes catch something that's been tossed in as is, like someone just walked through the alley and tossed it in. It appears to be a...
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