"How do you know Ralph?" Kev asked.
"It's my business to know all the club's guests," Lanon said, puffing on his pipe. "He was enjoying the west wing just five nights ago."
Kev coughed a bit, his eyes watering from the thick cloud of tobacco smoke. "That's right, I forgot. So much has happened these past few days."
"At least they have steak," Fang said, rolling his window down a bit further. "And whiskey."
"You should try something new," Lanon said, exhaling another cloud of smoke into the car. "A break from your routine."
"Maybe a porterhouse, then," Fang grumbled.
Kev was finishing his smoke when Perry pulled the car up to the side of the Grand Bazaar. The building was an entire city block, a towering ziggurat of polished chrome, shimmering glass, and cascading neon lights that stabbed into the twilight sky. Intricate sky-bridges, like glittering spiderwebs, connected its upper levels to neighboring skyscrapers, a constant river of small, sleek vehicles flowing between them. Kev strained his neck, looking up, but he couldn't even see the glass-walled penthouse restaurant at the top. The street was crowded with beastpeople going about their lives. Unlike the club, with its uniform of dark, sensual attire, the diverse city-folk wore all varieties of fashions and colors, brightly patterned silks, rugged denim, sharp business suits, and flowing, traditional robes. There really are a lot more mammals than reptiles or birds, Kev thought as he slid out of the car.
"When do you want me back?" Perry questioned. He could only lean slightly towards the passenger-side window due to the harness on his wing.
"I know you just want to go out driving," Lanon said with a smile. "Why not come back here around..."
"Your phone's connected to the car," Gretchen cut Lanon off, her voice crisp and professional. "I'll message you. Just stay within a fifteen-minute perimeter."
"Fifteen minutes, speed limit, or..." Perry grinned, his good eye twinkling.
"If you get arrested, you won't be driving when I'm on duty," Gretchen stated flatly.
"Ha! Like they could catch me," Perry revved the engine and said, "Just call me. I'll be here." He peeled out into the busy street, a few pedestrians needing to jump out of the way with surprised squawks and yelps.
Fang put his arm over Kev's shoulder and cut a straight line through the foot traffic. After a flight of wide, polished granite steps, they entered through a massive breezeway and into the building's main atrium. It didn't even feel like stepping inside. The enormous structures within could have been buildings in their own right. A plethora of different shops lined the walls—food, sports, electronics, clothes. There were even other restaurants of all varieties, including many that Kev could only guess at from the signs and the outfits of the servers.
Kev couldn't take in a fraction of the sights before he found himself in front of the stainless-steel doors of an elevator. Gretchen, who had been following behind quietly, stepped forward and pushed the "up" arrow.
"We should be there right on time," Lanon said, looking at his watch, "just as long as we don't hit traffic on our way up."
The elevator ride was longer than Kev remembered from his first time here. He had been so overwhelmed from getting his suit and haircut that he had actually enjoyed the quiet elevator and just being able to lean into Fang. Now he just wished there was a turbo button. The elevator felt a bit cramped with the four of them, and for whatever reason, Lanon had decided to stand right in front of Kev and stare right at him.
Even after transferring to a couple of different elevators to continue their climb to the top floor of the colossal building, Kev found himself standing face-to-face with Lanon. It was only the doors opening on their final ascent that made Lanon turn.
There, in the open doorway, was a very flabby-looking walrus man. "I'm sorry, but we are full," Gretchen said, planting herself in the doorway.
"You lot can squeeze together a bit," the walrus said, trying to push himself past the panther. "I'm heading up to the top floor. You lot can probably just take the stairs."
Gretchen put her hand out, palm forward, halting the walrus's advance. "We are full."
"Do you know who I am?" the walrus man growled. "I've got a very important meeting up in The Perch. I'm going to be making more money than you lot could ever dream about! Just move before I get angry!" The walrus man poked Gretchen's shoulder.
Gretchen quickly grabbed the man's finger and gracefully spun her body around him in a crescent pattern. His arm was raised high and then twisted behind him, guided by the feline as if they were dancing and his legs forgot to move. With another graceful motion, she bent his arm at the elbow and stepped forward. Finally, she put her free hand on the man's shoulders. His eyes were wide as she said into his ear, "If you are in a hurry, you can take the stairs too. You look like you could use the exercise." She pulled on the man's arm that she had locked behind his blubbery back, tweaking it, before pushing him away from the elevator.
"You scoundrel!" the walrus sputtered as he rubbed his shoulder, but the elevator door was already closing.
"We could have made room," Kev said.
"If he lost balance, he might squish you," Gretchen said, her tone completely matter-of-fact.
"Does the idea of being squished excite you?" Lanon asked.
"Does that excite anyone?" Kev asked back.
"Yes," Lanon said.
Kev was thankful when the elevator door gave a soft ding and finally opened at their destination. The restaurant was just as he remembered it. The Perch was a masterpiece of minimalist design, a deliberate choice that refused to compete with the main attraction. The floor-to-ceiling glass walls offered a breathtaking, panoramic view of the city, a glittering carpet of lights stretching out as far as Kev could see in all directions. Sleek, low-profile furniture in muted tones of charcoal and cream was arranged to maximize the view for every table. The most striking feature, however, was the glass floor in the center of the dining room. Even from the entryway, Kev could see the organized, white-clad bustle of the cooks preparing meals in the kitchen directly below, their movements a silent, intricate ballet.
A slender gazelle-man in a maître d' outfit stood in front of a small podium. When he finally looked up from the seating chart he was gazing at, he gasped. "Mr. Fang! Mr. Ralph is not here this evening. Is there anything we can do for you?"
"Hello, good sir," Lanon purred, stepping forward. "We have reservations for four."
The gazelle-man nodded at Lanon and quickly looked down at the podium. "Of course. What was the name?"
"Dr. Lanon." The iguana-man smiled and arched his head over the podium. "There," he said, pointing at the 7 o'clock time slot.
"Of course, sir." The gazelle stepped out from his station. "Follow me, if you please."
"Doctor?" Kev whispered to Fang. "Really?"
Fang wasn't listening, though. He was looking down at the cooks, where, once Kev followed the wolf's line of sight, he saw a massive t-bone steak being torched with what he could only describe as a miniature flamethrower. Distracted, Kev nearly bumped into a table.
He looked around. The restaurant was packed, nearly every table full. Unlike the rest of the Grand Bazaar, the diners were all dressed for the occasion. This wasn't the type of place someone would swing by to grab a bite; this was a culinary experience. Not only did it cater to the wealthy, it catered to the wealthy on their special days or important events. This was the kind of place that could induce a stroke just by looking at the menu prices.
The gazelle stopped at a table with four chairs right on the aisle. Other tables were close by, and one of the staircases that led down to the kitchen was right next to it. "Your waiter will be by shortly to bring you water and bread."
Fang looked down at the table and growled. "Chairs."
"There is too much traffic here," Gretchen said, glancing down the staircase as a waiter scurried by, holding a tray full of dirty dishes.
"Right in the middle of the action!" Lanon smiled. "We can hear so many conversations from this spot."
The gazelle-man looked back and forth between Fang and the table, his long eyelashes fluttering nervously.
"It's a bit small," Fang said.
"Something near a wall would be better," Gretchen stated.
"Would you look at that!" Lanon pointed gleefully. "The bathroom is so close. You can learn so much about someone from their bathroom habits."
The gazelle-man looked down and weakly said, "All the tables have been reserved tonight..."
"I can smell the kitchen," Fang said, sniffing the air. "Is that duck using gas instead of coal?"
"How about that table?" Gretchen pointed at an empty booth nestled in a corner, a bit further away from the main corridor, its plush seating overlooking the city lights.
"That's reserved," the gazelle said, his voice a faint bleat.
"Good eye, Ms. Gretchen," Lanon said. "I think we should be able to see the park in that direction."
"I'd like to see that," Kev said. "We're so high up, I bet it looks tiny."
"But... but..." the gazelle stammered, as the four guests walked past him and sat themselves down in the window booth.
Sitting next to the window, Kev looked down into the nighttime city. The view from The Perch was breathtaking, a sprawling, endless tapestry of light. Rivers of white and red headlights flowed through the canyons between towering, illuminated skyscrapers. Distant bridges, strung with glittering pearls of light, arched over invisible waterways. The sheer scale of Dala'Bon was laid bare from this height, a vast, pulsating ocean of beastly endeavor, twinkling and shifting as far as the eye could see. Then, amidst the overwhelming brilliance, Kev spotted a patch of darkness, a significant, solid void in the ocean of lights. A thrill ran through him. That must be the club and the park, he realized, their own private kingdom carved out of the urban sprawl.
"Such a wonderful view. That Ralph fellow does have vision," Lanon said, also peering out into the city.
"Vision, I guess," Gretchen said. "No hiding anything here." She seemed a bit overwhelmed as she sat next to Lanon, her eyes trying to watch the other customers, the waiters ferrying things around, and even the hustle in the kitchen below them all at once.
"All people are doing is hiding things here," Lanon grinned. "Did you not hear any of the conversations on our way in? Sales, deals, marriages, affairs. There is barely a word of truth being spoken, other than when asking for refills on drinks."
"Not everything has to be so scandalous," Kev said.
"It doesn't have to be, but it is," Lanon said, flicking his forked tongue out.
"Yeah, right," Kev said. "And what's so bad about..." He looked around and saw an elderly vole couple, smiling and sharing a slice of pie. "...them?"
"We shall find out," Lanon said, and he stood and deliberately walked over to the old lovers.
"No, get back here!" Kev hissed, feeling a sudden wave of secondhand embarrassment. "Say something, Fang!"
Fang, however, was once again staring down at the kitchen, where Kev saw a rack of plate-ribs was being pulled from an oven. They were so big that Kev wondered if they were even from a cow.
By the time Kev looked back up, he saw Lanon standing at the voles' table. He was leaning in, saying something with a polite, almost charming smile. After a few moments, the old man vole stood up, his tiny body trembling with rage, and began wagging his finger in Lanon's face. Another few moments passed, and the woman vole stood up and began hissing at the man vole. The voles then began arguing, their voices rising, attracting the attention of nearby tables. Suddenly, the woman vole slapped the man vole hard across the face, the sound a sharp crack. She then grabbed the slice of pie from the table and shoved it into her mouth in one furious bite. Crumbs flew. With a final, venomous glare at her husband, she grabbed her bag and stormed off, nearly knocking a tray from a waiter's hands. The man vole then turned on Lanon again and began yelling, his small fists clenched.
Gretchen sighed and pushed herself up from the booth. However, before she could fully stand, someone new approached Lanon and the furious vole man. A white duck woman in a crisp black waitress's dress.