Sometimes You Gotta Run Away

This story was written as a gift for a friend, and is used by permission. At the time of this story, Penny & other characters are all 19 or older.

It was two am, and the rain was pelting down. It was, in fact, a dark and stormy night, though the sodden figure on the side of the I-5 wouldn't have cared one way or the other about the cliché. There was little traffic going by, mostly big rigs that roared past with lordly disdain for the soaked hitch-hiker. One had passed a few moments ago, but there was no tell-tale glow of light behind the crest of the road to indicate yet another approaching car, and so the figure dropped a listless thumb and resumed plodding along the highway.

She didn't know where she was going, nor did she care. At the moment, all Penny was interested in was getting a ride, and hopefully dry, or at least a meal somewhere along the road. Still, in one way it was worth it. She was

not

going back to the Cosmic Cafe ever again, and Robert the Asshole could go fuck himself. The young horse-girl's breath steamed in the cool, damp night air, but her mind was elsewhere, going over the events which had brought her to this point.

The Cosmic Cafe had seemed like an ideal job at first, while she finished school and tried to get her foot in the door in Hollywood. But little alarm bells had gone off in the back of her mind when she first met the manager, Robert. He was a short, scruffy hyena 'morph - well, pretty much all hyenas were scruffy, really, but he was scruffy even by their standards. He'd promised her a good basic rate, above minimum wage, actually; training, though she was pretty sure she could figure out being a barista on her own; uniform - well, apron with the cafe's logo, really - provided, and overtime if things were really busy. She wasn't sure if that was a leer or just the way his muzzle set naturally, but she'd felt as though she needed a shower after.

The reality had proved to be otherwise. While meeting new customers and greeting the regulars was one of things she did enjoy, especially the occasions when a casting director or modelling agent came in, the rest of the job sucked, big time. Her co-workers weren't too bad, but she felt nervous around Fred and George, two redheaded lion 'moprs who had a mischievous sense of humour. They weren't brothers, though they could have been, and certainly acted like it, and as if she were their little sister. Still, the fact they were predators kept her on edge, though it certainly made other aspects of work easier. At least when they were around Robert was merely a creepy presence in the back. He managed to impose himself in other ways, though.

First, it had turned out that 'uniform provided' meant Robert billed her weekly for uniform rental. Next, it appeared that because she was new, she was given broken shifts, not straight shifts. This meant that as she didn't work a straight eight hours on any given day, she was a part-time employee and though she got the wage she'd been promised, she didn't get benefits. No health insurance, no vacation credit, nothing. It also meant - because Robert was very careful to walk the thin edge of the law on this - that working 2 four-hour shifts per day as he usually required her to do did not earn her overtime. Lastly, when Fred and George weren't around, he made suggestive remarks, or upbraided her for faults, real and imagined. When she pointed out to him, her third week there, that he had promised training but hadn't yet delivered, he scowled and went back into his office. The next day she found out her shifts for the next week had been cancelled, and she was booked to attend a 3-day food services course. "You won't be getting any shift time during those days, so I can't pay you," he'd said, then leered, "unless you wanna... make it worth my while."

Affronted but needing the job, Penny had bit her lip. Fortunately, her bills were paid, but it meant she'd have to put off some photo sessions she'd been hoping to book. There was worse to come, though. When she arrived at the school, she found that while she had indeed been booked, her tuition for the course hadn't been paid. Apparently, Robert didn't consider paying for training necessary; booking her off shifts in order to take the training was a sufficiently magnanimous act on his part. She was lucky; she had just enough saved to be able to pay the tuition for the course. When she returned to the cafe three days later, the proud possessor (and she was proud, darn it; she'd worked hard on the tests and it hadn't been as easy as she'd thought it would be) of her food services certificate, Robert had demanded her tuition receipt. "I have to report it," he said, but she balked and dug in her heels. "You can have a copy of the certificate," she replied - fair enough, since the certificate identified that she was taking the course as an employee of Cosmic Cafe. "But not the receipt. And thanks; you never mentioned that I had to pay for the course."

"You never asked," he'd replied, and apparently considered that sufficient. She'd bitten her tongue hard to keep from saying something that would get her fired; she needed the job more than ever, in order to make back up her meagre savings and meet her bills.

A growing hum and increasing glow behind her broke her reverie and warned her. The glow exploded suddenly into brilliance as whatever it was crested the ridge. It roared past her, soaking her afresh, but the brake lights suddenly came on and the engine note changed, revving high as the driver dropped it through the gears with a fine disregard for his transmission, and screeched to a halt a hundred yards ahead of her. She broke into a run.

"Hey, baby, need a lift?" the driver asked, and she flicked rain-plastered hair back from her eyes as she peered in. A male wolf 'morph sat behind the wheel of the SUV, his tongue lolling from his muzzle as he eyed her. Her soaked t-shirt clung to her curves, outlining her breasts; and her nipples, erect with cold, pushed the soaked cotton out in stark relief. Her skirt was now wringing wet, of course, and clung to her thighs. "Hell of a night to be walking, sweet thing," he added, leering appreciatively at her as she climbed in.

"Yeah," she replied, clamping down on the automatic "No shit, Sherlock" that had leaped to the forefront of her brain. Dumb as a post the wolf might be, but even if he only gave her ten miles of ride, it was ten miles out of the weather. "Thanks; I've been walking for hours," she added, pasting a smile on her face. It wasn't the most sincere smile she'd ever worn, but it did the trick. He tromped on the gas and roared back onto the highway.

"Goin' anyplace particular?" he asked as he shifted over to the innermost lane and settled at a steady 85. Penny wondered if this was the best idea; she wasn't opposed to speeding in general, but 25 over the limit at night in driving rain struck her as extra reckless. "Sacramento, sort of," she answered. "Hey, not to be a pain, but you got a towel or a blanket or something?"

"Sure thing," he answered, reaching back with a paw to fumble behind the passenger seat. A moment later he'd fished out a towel that smelled rather strongly of sweat. "That's my gym towel," he informed her, as if her nose hadn't detected the strong lupine musk. "Sorry, I wasn't planning on pickin' up stranded girls."

She nodded her thanks in the soft gloom of the interior and dried her hair as best she could, then patted her clothes... well, not dry; "less soaked" was more accurate. A hand came to rest on her thigh and she froze for a moment, then relaxed again. "Hang on a moment," she answered as she scrubbed the towel through her hair again, then at the jerk of his head, tossed the towel behind the seat. "Payment, hun?" she said as nonchalantly as she could manage.

"Gas, grass or ass, baby," he replied. "Though I'll let you off with a blow job since I don't wanna get out and fuck in that," he added generously.

Whee,

she thought.

Mr. Considerate in person.

Still... "Grass, huh?" She worked a hand into the small pocket in her skirt's waistband, hoping it hadn't been soaked through... and it appeared it hadn't. She pulled out a small bag. "Last joint," she said. "Shares okay?"

"Sure," he acquiesced, and she lit it, taking a deep, lung-filling hit, and passed it to him. Fragrant smoke wreathed around her as she leaned back, eyes closed...

Her boss, she had soon realized, was a black-hearted scoundrel for whom no trick was too low if it saved a penny. He complied with the law - just barely - but would not do one iota more than that absolute minimum required when it came to his employees. His premises fared slightly better; he was savvy enough to realize his cafe had to look smart and clean in order to attract the clientele he wanted. But his employees appeared to be disposable things, to judge by his attitude toward them. Fred and George left eventually, to be replaced by a gorgeous, soft-eyed giraffe-girl who towered over Penny and Robert both, and a quiet little bunny-girl with long, silky-soft cream fur. Robert practically licked his chops at the prospect of three pretty girls to serve his customers, and certainly the customers didn't mind. But Celeste, the giraffe, and Marie-Claire, the rabbit, didn't last; Robert creeped them as well, and one afternoon as she came in, Penny saw Marie-Claire escorting a weeping Celeste out, and Robert looking guilty. "They couldn't hack it, Penny babe," he explained airily as he served a customer. "But it does leave me short-handed, so grab your apron, okay, sweetheart?"

After they'd left, Robert tried to get new staff in, but without success. Word seemed to be getting around in the food services community and no-one wanted a position there. Robert had to make her full-time simply because he needed her eight hours straight, and reluctantly set her up with the benefits California law said she must receive. She wound up with more actual free time, because he adamantly refused to pay her overtime, and after the first two times her shift had run an hour over, she'd gone to the labour relations board to complain. Grumbling, he'd paid up the overtime due, but after that insisted she leave at the stroke of the end of her shift. Not before, though; not by so much as thirty seconds; he was determined to wring every working minute out of her he could in those eight hours. Her schoolwork suffered, of course; eight hours of being the only barista each day, each 40-hours a week, was a brutal, killing pace. The only other good thing about it was that Robert didn't come in on Saturdays and Sundays; she had the cafe to herself. She in turn refused to go anywhere near the CC on Mondays and Tuesdays - her 'weekend', because Robert would try to inveigle her into covering for him "just for a moment, while I go get some smokes." She'd wound up giving him four free hours that way, and made another trip down to the labour relations board.

The normally cheerful, sunny-mannered Penny was gone; replaced by a tired, depressed Penny who didn't -

couldn't

- care, about anything. She was on the verge of failing out of her classes and she just wanted to sleep when she got home each day. Now, months later, Penny realized that she ought to have walked out with Celeste and Marie-Claire. Robert's innuendos and groping were constant; he mocked her looks and her presumed sexual habits and tastes when she fended him off, or - and she wasn't sure which was worse - he tried calling her by pet names and endearments. And today had been the final straw. She'd just finished clearing tables and returned to the wash-up when Robert had reached up under her skirt - he'd forbidden her to wear her beloved Tripps - and crudely yanked her panties aside.

Her already-frayed temper had snapped. "Fuck you, asshole!" she'd shouted, the words cracking through the coffee bar. The patrons had looked up involuntarily, then away, some flinching when Penny slammed a tray of dirty mugs down so hard that four of them fell off to crash and splinter on the tiled floor.

"You watch your mouth, Penny! The customers aren't paying good money to hear that kind of filth from you!" came the hyena's hot-tempered retort. "And your temper just cost you those four mugs offa your paycheck, too!"

She'd torn off the apron bearing the "Cosmic Cafe" logo and thrown it down on the overturned tray and shattered mugs. Robert's muzzle drew back, wrinkling in the bared-fang grimace of his feral ancestors, warning off other scavengers, and Penny's tail flicked rapidly, nervously. But her anger and wounded pride wouldn't let her back down, despite her equine instincts prompting her to give way. Instead she made use of her height and glared down at him. "Oh, but they're paying to see you grabbing my ass, right?!" she shot back, eyes flashing. "They're paying to see you treating me like a slut, huh?! 'Cause that's not offensive, not a bit!"

Robert drew himself up, though still couldn't match Penny's height. "You take that back, girl, or I'll sue the shi... daylights out of ya!" he snarled.

Penny had simply snorted and stepped over the pottery shards scattered over the floor, heading toward the door. "Fuck you I said and fuck you I meant," she replied. "Clean up your own damn mess and good luck finding someone else who'll put up with your shit!" So saying, the enraged Arabian horse-girl flung open the door.

She'd walked and walked and walked, hardly aware of where she was going, while she turned over every injustice, every slight, every sexual advance she'd suffered while working there. Tomorrow, she decided, she was going to go down to the labour relations board –

again

– and formally complain about everything that had happened. She'd call the city health inspector, too; she didn't think anything would come of it, but the harassment he'd suffer would be worth it. It wasn't until her mind had run down that she'd found herself a considerable distance from home and in a completely unfamiliar part of town.

Where am I?

had flitted through her mind, followed by

Who cares?

She needed out, she needed to get

away,

now.

She'd called a couple of friends, but no-one was answering, not even Arc. The short, feisty lioness 'morph was probably the closest thing to a confidante she had, but her phone was off and her voice mail was full.

So much for someone to talk to.

She stared at the freeway entrance, not really seeing it, nor the sign reading "I5 North". She needed to get away... and she remembered she had a cousin or something – she was fuzzy on the exact details – who lived up near Sacramento somewhere... northern Cali, anyway...

The change in motion of the car startled her; the wolf was pulling over. "This is it, baby," he said, and she blinked, then looked at her watch. Somehow she'd fallen asleep; it was nearly five... and the dim glow in the east confirmed it. He laughed at her befuddled expression. "Sacramento?" he prompted her, and her eyes widened.

"Oh! Oh, hey, great." Her clothes were still slightly damp, but she felt much better than when he'd stopped to pick her up. "Um, thanks again," she said, fumbling with the door handle. "I really appreciate it."

"Ah, no biggie. Besides, you conked out after that first hit, so I got pretty much the whole spliff to myself. Hey, take care, hey?"

She nodded, stepping back as he pulled back onto the highway, his tires throwing a brief rooster-tail of gravel, and then she looked around.

The nameless wolf had dropped her just past the exit ramp, and she could see a Shell station; it looked like one that catered to truckers, for it had a good-sized restaurant attached to it, and there were several rigs parked beside it. She ran her hands through her hair, fluffing up the dark, silky mop, then checked her pockets. Cell phone, check. ATM card, not that it would do her much good right now, her account being pretty much empty... and likely to stay that way now, since she was pretty sure she'd have to pry her final pay out of Robert with a crowbar. And a five-dollar bill. Well, she could get coffee and a muffin, which would at least quiet her stomach a bit. But she had no idea, really, of where to go from here. All she knew was her cousin (or whatever) was around this end of the state, and either worked on, owned or managed an orchard or dairy farm or ranch or something. She wasn't even sure of her cousin's name; she thought it was Rhianna or something, like the singer. Food first, she decided. Then figure out what next.

The warm, homey smells of cooking assaulted her as she stepped in. There was a mixed crowd of 'morphs in this morning; wolves, foxes, a couple of deer, but they all seemed the same in at least one respect – warm flannel shirts and Teamsters Union ball caps, which formed some sort of unofficial uniform. Most of them were concentrating on breakfast – or lunch, or supper, whichever it was. Suddenly a mere coffee and muffin seemed woefully inadequate.

"Hey, li'l filly, yer blockin' traffic," came a deep voice from behind her, and she jumped. A tall stallion anthro – Clydesdale, from the heavy, muscular build and markings – loomed over her. She began to step aside, but he gestured toward a booth. "G'wan, pull up a pew," he said. He looked knowingly at her flustered expression.

"Uh, I was just -" she started, but he cut her off.

"S'okay, darlin' – my treat," he rumbled, his voice seeming to come from somewhere around his knees. He gave her a gentle push with a hand like the scoop of a power shovel, and somehow she found herself sitting in the booth. "Tell you what – I'll buy you breakfast 'n' you kin be a pretty face for me to enjoy lookin' at, and mebbe tell me why a li'l filly like you's on the road with nary a nickel?"

She nodded agreement, and the stallion slid into the booth, across from her. He introduced himself as Earl, then waved the waitress, a petite squirrel-girl, over. "Sugar-pie, my friend here'll have the eggs 'n' ham, with toast, OJ and coffee... and a cherry danish to go." The waitress grinned, clearly used to him, then cocked her head expectantly. "I'll start with a Texas pancake stack, three sunny-side up, side of toast, grits 'n' ham, and two coffees the way I like 'em," he added, then gave her rump a playful swat as she left.

Somehow, Penny found Earl remarkably easy to talk to. He nodded while she recounted her journey so far, and his brown eyes smiled at her frequently over the rim of his coffee cup. She finished with her intention to find her cousin and her concerns that she had very little idea where to start. Earl nodded sympathetically, then began methodically chewing a toothpick. "I wonder," he said at length, "I wonder if... see, thing is, darlin', you're an uma, and your kind ain't common 'round these parts. 'Leastways, not that I've seen. But there's this one up Napa Valley way, runs a farm or something, I think. Now I gotta delivery over that way, then I'm heading on to Portland. I c'n give ya a ride, you help me unload when we get there, 'kay? And that close, you should be able to ask around, maybe find out if that's yer cousin?"

Penny nodded, her eyes suspiciously moist. Her experience with Robert had pretty much soured her on men, and the wolf who'd given her a lift through the night... well, he hadn't done anything because she'd had the joint to give him, but if she hadn't... yet here was Earl who'd bought her breakfast and was willing to give her a lift to Napa Valley... "Why?" she asked. It could have sounded curt, or cynical or any one of a dozen other things, but she was honestly curious, and he heard the note of curiosity in her voice.

"Heck, I toldja... a pretty girl t'keep me company for breakfast, 'n' on to Napa? You're a good kid, too. Ya had a bad go, but yer not bad at heart. Besides, 'taint always safe, hitchin', so I figger if'n I give ya a ride, you'll be close enough t'find yer cousin, prob'ly. Aaand... the missus'd slap me around if'n I didn't." He grinned and tossed down the last of his coffee. "Grab yer lunch there," he nodded at the bagged danish, "and let's hit the road before the rest of these yahoos." Genial mutters of abuse answered him as he ushered her out the door.