QUINN

There's popcorn all over my chest as my hand flails around, trying to locate the vibrating demon phone that's been screaming at me through my dreams.

After a long day at school, I ended my night with two bags of buttery heaven and an intriguing documentary on the pyramids in Egypt. Don't ask how I ended up wearing the snack instead of eating it, because I don't have the answer.

My greasy fingers finally connect with a rectangular device so I drag it over until I can get a firm grip on it. Squinting my eyes through the darkness when the bright screen assaults my vision, my heart starts beating in my ears like an annoying drum

9:42

Bearaffe: Are you awake?

10:06

Bearaffe: If you see this, you should come to Shadow

10:43

Bearaffe: Alright, I won't sugarcut it. I might need tou

11:15

Gio: you busy?

11:23

Gio: sorry to bug you but your boy is drunk AF.

11:49

Gio: cutting him off. Can I drop him at your place?

Glancing over at the clock, I see it's nearly one in the morning.

Did they try to stop by here but couldn't get in? And why is Cash drunk while he's working? He doesn't do that. Like, ever. Besides the first time he came to my apartment, I've never even seen him have more than two drinks.

Red flag number one is him saying he needs me. If there's anything I've learned over the years of observing him, it's that he relies on no one. He handles things himself and, occasionally, helps his co-workers.

That's part of the reason I originally felt safe around him. It was like, no matter what, he didn't need help conquering something. At least in the physical aspect.

Gio texting me is red flag number two. The only time he's ever reached out to me was when he found my purse stuck in the rafters at the club after they closed up for the night.

Flag three? Gio refusing to serve Cash more alcohol. He's got a heavy hand and is always too busy to worry about how drunk people are getting, let alone going through the hassle of trying to cut them off.

I rush out the front door, leaving all my worries on the couch. Now is not the time to get swallowed up by them. If Cash needs me, I'm going to be there, damn it!

Billy stops me at the entrance to the club, bringing my giant strides to a dramatic halt. I shove his hand away and give him the look that I know makes him pee his pants. At least, that's what I like to pretend it does to him.

"I need to see Cash." I say, making an attempt at sounding stern.

"I don't want you getting into something you can't handle." He replies softly, his eyes taking on the same effect.

Billy saw me during my second worst breakdown ever and, while I can appreciate his justified concern, I have to blow it off this time.

How many times has Cash dragged me from the edge of darkness? And at least half the times he did it, he barely even knew I existed. He's been the one constant source of sanity.

I straighten my back and narrow my eyes.

"I can do this, Billy." I respond with a strong sense of assurance that can't be overlooked.

After a few seconds of studying me, he grins, pats my shoulder, and ushers me inside. I head straight for Gio and Cash, plopping myself down in the stool next to him.

Gio's eyes cut to mine and, before he can walk away, I order him to fix me a drink. I know I probably shouldn't be dumping alcohol in my stomach while trying to lure Cash away from it, but I could use a little liquid courage.

Cash doesn't so much as look at me the entire time I wait for my drink. His elbow is propped up on the bar and the side of his face is smushed against his fist, his body leaning at a dangerous angle in the chair.

The first long sip gives me brain freeze, but I power through to ingest as much of it as I can.

"Whatcha doin?" I finally ask, swinging my legs.

I think one eye tries to stray in my direction, but he ends up closing both of them instead. He's definitely feeling the effects of the liquor. Being as big as he is, I can only imagine how much he consumed to get to this point.

"Why're you here?" He slurs, barely peeling his lids open.

"I heard Batman was calling for his Robin." I do a full rotation in the spinny chair before pretending I was sent from the heavens.

His arm flops down against the bar, his forehead following suit as his back heaves with soft laughter. That's a good sign, at least.

"I fucked up." He groans, not lifting his head.

My hand hovers over his back before finally resting on it while I try to fight the barrage of thoughts. What does he mean he fucked up? Did he finally cheat on me? Did he – noo. Don't do this right now. Focus!

"H-how did you fuck up?" I force the question out.

He shifts his entire body until his head is laying in front of me. So, I pet his hair because I have no idea what the hell else I'm supposed to do right now.

"This. All of it."

"Being drunk, you mean?" I ask, scrunching my eyebrows even though he can't see my confusion.

He moves his head around in a strange pattern, attempting to nod, I think.

"Cash-Money, getting drunk isn't fucking up. It happens. I'm actually kind of relieved to learn that you're human, after all. This whole time, I thought I might be dating an alien. And I think there's some kind of laws against inter-species relationships."

He snorts a laugh and finally lifts himself up, stationed right in front of my face. His eyes are bloodshot and droopy, and his usually tensed features are completely relaxed.

"You thought I was an al-alien?" He asks with a lazy smirk.

Instead of answering, I kiss him. Hard. Because, quite frankly, I actually enjoy seeing him like this.

Maybe that's wrong but, nobody has ever needed me before, and he seems so happy to have me here. I'm the one making him smile when he's in a bad way. It's just a nice change of pace, I guess.

His forearm drapes around the back of my head after groaning in surprise, and he keeps our mouths sealed tightly together.

Bada bomb, clothes be gone! Okay, guess that's not the right spell. Back to the drawing board.

I manage to unwillingly wrench myself away from him and lean back to get a good look at his face again. I guess I should find out how he got to this point if I want to figure out a solution to the problem.

"What happened, Cash-Money? What's got you all belligerent and adorable?" My open hand trails along his jaw, being careful to avoid the scrapes that mar his perfect skin.

"Sonny." He says quietly, his lethargic gaze locked on my confused one.

"Sonny?" I parrot, trying to sound unfazed.

Sonny better be a damn penis wielder instead of a panty hamster owner.

"Sonny." He gives a curt nod, as if he just provided me with an adequate explanation. "Fletch."

"Oh...another name. Are we uh, are we trying to build a threesome team here or something, Cash? Because I think I should have a say in who participates, and there has to be a rainbow somewhere in the background and –"

"Pfffttshh." He makes the unintelligible noise, cutting me off. "If you think I-I'm sharing this," he gestures down my body, "with anyone, you - you're kidding yourself."

I glance down and, for the first time, I realize what I'm wearing. Futurama pajama pants, a black t-shirt with a hole in the armpit and popcorn crumbs stuck all over it, and mismatch shoes. Apparently, Cash is digging my style tonight.

So, there's a lobster party in my face right now. I'm red; I know it. It makes him smile, which I guess is the plus side of having traits similar to seafood.

Gio makes his rounds and slides a glass of water in front of Cash.

"Hey, Gio! Cash got beat up by a granny yesterday." I blurt out.

Oops, I meant to hold on to that one until I needed it as leverage.

His lips twitch as he slowly fixates on Cash's evil glare directed at me and my outburst.

"Is that so?" He muses, leaning forward on his elbows.

Well, I already slipped up. Might as well keep going!

As I regale him with the adventurous tale, Cash's only input is half-assed eyerolls and displeased grunts. Meanwhile, Gio is doing his best to fend off laughter.

When I peek over after the story is done, I'm almost positive the bearaffe is sleeping. He looks quite tranquil.

"Do you know who Sonny is?" I whisper to Gio, making sure Cash has no reaction that implies he might be awake.

"Why?" He asks cautiously, suddenly occupied with wiping down the spot I just saw him clean twelve seconds ago.

"I think Cash is upset over someone named Sonny. Or maybe Fletch?"

On hearing the second name, he twirls around and knocks a glass off the bar, shattering it. The sleeping beast doesn't even stir from his hibernation.

Instead of moving to clean it up, Gio stares at me with a vacant expression.

"He said that?"

"Uh...kind of, yeah. I think. Why? Who are they?"

"Quinn..." He leans in closer but becomes tentative. "I – I don't know." He trails off, deciding now is the perfect time to start tending to the mess he made.

Grabbing a broom and dustpan, he sweeps up the glass and carries it away.

There's something about not being allowed to have information that makes me really want to obtain it. I pull my phone out and open my calendar app.

Waterboard Gio until he reveals top secret info!!!

Okay, I won't waterboard him. But I have my own methods of torture. By the time I'm done with him, he'll wish he was drowning.

Right now, though, I have a different problem to solve. One that involves manhandling someone twice my size and probably three times my weight. I ogle his body, trying to determine the best strategy.

I poke at his ribcage, but he doesn't budge. When I poke his eyelid, it just squishes under the weight of my finger. I contemplate pouring a glass of water down his pants because I know that would work, but I don't want to traumatize the goods. I need to be on good terms with those.

After three failed attempts at trying to lift him out of the chair, I decide it's time to put away the kid gloves. I start rocking the stool back and forth until it angles just enough for Cash's body to slide out.

He slams to the ground and groans as he rolls onto his back. He's only in pain for a minute before he loses consciousness again. Well, this is just great. How am I supposed to get him off the floor? I didn't think this one through.

Looking up, I see Gio leaned against the ice machine. His face isn't as lively as it was earlier, but he's still got a grin splayed across it as he watches me.

"Need help?" He teases.

I weigh my options but decide against accepting his offer. For now, Gio is the enemy. He knows something about what upset Cash, but I don't know what he knows, and I want to know what he might know so I know what's wrong with my boyfriend! Uhh...yeah.

"I got it." I snarl back, drawing another laugh from my future torture victim.

Silas! He's the only one here bigger than Cash. Now I just have to figure out how to make him communicate with me. That one's a tough nut to crack.

I rush over there and stare up at mother nature's steroid project gone wrong, but he doesn't even acknowledge my presence. I clear my throat and tap my finger against one of the forearms that are crossed against his chest.

"Excuse me!" I shout, not knowing if he can hear me all the way up there.

His eyes flash to mine and, when it fully registers that there's someone standing in front of him, his chin turns down to get a better look.

"I need your help."

His head cocks to the side like a dog when they hear an interesting pitch, but he continues to stare instead of responding. Does he not speak English? Is that why he never answers me?

I took Spanish in ninth grade, so I decide to take a swing at that and hope it's his native tongue.

"H-hablas..uhhh...hablas planetas...tierra?"

A measly eyebrow twitch is all I get.

"Silas! Cash needs help! If you don't start talking to me right this minute, I'll go for your kneecaps!"

He glimpses over at Cash's limp body sprawled across the floor and then looks back at me. No response.

Okay, I didn't want to do this, but I warned him. This is his fault.

I squat down and start rapid firing punches at his right knee. Annnnd I'm running out of steam while he just watches me attack. When I feel the burn in my arms, I have no choice but to give up.

Standing back up, I try to catch my breath. I think my original assumption about him was correct. He's a robot.

"Beep, boop, bzzzinnnng, beep beep, bop. Boom!" I explain the situation to him, using my hands to animate so he can understand me better.

Out of nowhere, he smirks, and his massive hand drops on top of my head, patting it as he says, "little pest," in an Arnold Schwarzenegger accent, but thicker.

Arnold! Whatever he is, Silas must come from the same place! But he can speak fluent robot as well. That's very useful information to have. Wait...but wasn't Arnold part robot? Oh gosh, my head is spinning. I'll have to circle back to this.

I watch as Silas moves from his post, stalking over to my unsuspecting boyfriend. Relief washes over me now that I know he'll be gently carried out of the building instead of whatever I had planned.

But robot-giant Silas decides to grab him by the ankle and not-so-gently drags him across the floor of the nearly empty club. Cash's head knocks against all the chairs and table legs along the way, muttering absentminded curses while still passed out.

Spirit cheetah, I need you now more than ever. It's time for a war of worlds. Cheetahs V Robots.

After amping myself up, I run full speed toward the two and launch myself onto Silas' back. My arm wraps around his throat and I try to choke him so he'll let go of Cash's foot.

The bastard starts laughing and carries on like I'm nothing more than a fly resting on his shoulder. He ends up escorting both of us to the back alley I've been tossed out into countless times in the past.

He drops the sacred ankle and then bends down until my feet are touching solid ground again. I release his neck and step away, examining Cash for any new injuries he didn't have before. I will take this big mothersucker down if he hurt him, even if I die trying.

"You could have been more gentle!" I yell, pointing at the comatose man lying in front of us.

"Is okay. Do this with all boys work here. Not much Cassius lately though." For just a second, I think there's concern in Silas' dead robot eyes while he looks Cash over. "He be okay."

"You left a lot of words out of your sentences there, Silas." I mumble, still decoding his statement.

He grins and pats my head again.

"I like you, little pest."

I swat at his arm until he removes his hand from the top of my skull, feeling like a ten-ton weight was lifted off me. He chuckles as he goes back inside, leaving me with the deadweight.

There's no way I'm asking that giant for help again.

So, how am I supposed to get Cash inside the apartment?