Chapter 2

Tucker Bishop was one of the theme park’s two dozen employees, most of whom had the day off because of the storm. But Animalistic was much more than a workplace for Tucker. It was his sanctuary, as much so as it was to any of its other allegedly more beastly inhabitants. Tucker lived like one of them. So, while those gathered listened to Olivia under protection from the downpour, Tucker was right out in it—naked.

“She’s certainly shared this story a sufficient selection of times,” Jake said, “to satisfactorily share it sans your silly intrusions, Sam.”

“What do you think? Did he look fat and wide to you?”Olivia looked to newcomer Penny.

“Not really,” she said.

Though the others faced away from Tucker, off to the side, where Tucker knew he’d be shielded from their line of vision as not to offend, Sam was facing the other way, purposefully craning and staring. “Well, part of him does. Woof!”

But Tucker didn’t mind. Standing under a noisy rush of cool water, tall and slender, with muscles obtained by work, and not working out, etched deeply into shiny, tanned skin, coated in fur, head to toe, Tucker noticed as several admirers stole more than passing glances. He imagined what the others might be saying, as he reached his arms up over his head, letting the water tickle him all down his hairy front. His black mop, which was made of long, disheveled, springy curls when dry, fell in dripping, limp strings over his sad, dark eyes. The trickle from his unkempt beard, longer than it should have been, flowed down his chest, then trailed down his torso, splitting a plentiful pelt of black into two banks on either side. The water pooled momentarily in a mass of thicker bush at his pelvis, then, just like the hair itself, scattered wildly in all directions. Some ran down Tucker’s muscular legs. Some turned the corner and followed the hip bones, fingering the back side of him, into his buttocks, awakening him there, like a lover’s gentle touch. A single stream ran forcefully from the end of impressive genitalia, then scattered, like summer midnight fireflies, as Tucker took his organ in his grasp and shook it back and forth. Sam apparently liked what he saw, and whistled boldly from across the green.

There was a time in Tucker’s life—early on, and then more recently—when bathing had lost all pleasure, when his own touch repulsed him, but the rainforest waterfall, smack-dab in the middle of upstate New York, had brought back his love of water almost from the moment he had first stepped foot on the grounds. It was 1974, and Tucker, accompanied by a rather large companion, had “talked” himself into a job within no time at all, almost instantly proving himself invaluable.

Animalistic was originally developed as a retirement village for elderly circus creatures. It was subsidized by a wealthy animal-lover named Mack Kirby. Over time, the park grew in both space and purpose to include several beasts who had been injured or abused while working, and also some that needed to be relocated after their original parks and zoos had been foreclosed upon. Most of the four-legged refugees, already somewhat used to handlers, accepted their new human trespassers cautiously, though willingly, out of necessity. Those who’d been mistreated, however, though distrusting of most, were always less wary of him. Tucker was certain that they spoke to each other. He imagined entire conversations in his head, and was all but certain that Daisy reassured them he was cool. Daisy, a one-armed koala, terrified, malnourished, close to death at one time, according to Mack Kirby, had fought any human who tried to offer aid. And then she met Tucker. Perhaps she had sensed that he needed love as much as she did, for within minutes, he’d had the frightened beast cradled to his chest and eating from his hand. A pathetic soul that others had condemned to euthanasia—for humanity’s sake—was allowing herself to be held by a man who’d given up on humanity altogether. It was at that precise moment that Tucker knew he was home.

If his own appearance offered any indication, it probably seemed to Mack and the others as if Tucker had even given up on himself as well, but the hair that covered him, especially his face, was probably what had made the koala respond positively. She’d kneaded it with her one paw and nuzzled into it as she’d slept.

“Fur to fur,” Mack Kirby had said with a chuckle. “We’ve wrapped tires in sheepskin for certain creatures and whatnot, but your warmth and real hair…you’ve worked wonders, Tucker Bishop.” He’d offered him a full-time position on the spot. “Direct care, we call it. Welcome aboard. You pick your schedule. As many hours, as many days as you wish.”

Tucker had wished for 24/7.