Shoving the money in her purse, Gasket wiped the sweat from her brow with a towel and sat down, burying her head in her paws. Her stomach doing somersaults. She didn't expect it to be so, so intimate. There was hardly any breathing room between them and even though she was doing all the work, John left the room sweaty and slightly out of breath.

Her skin crawled as she got changed and wrapped her jacket tightly around her. Fumbling for her purse, she opened it and counted the money she'd earned. She had to count it twice to make sure she was right. But it covered groceries for a month and she could put the rest in savings going toward Jamie's first prescription. What usually took her several nights to earn was condensed into a thirty-minute lap dance. But there was something that ran deeper than the money. It was a visceral urge to vomit. An unclean feeling that she knew wouldn't come off no matter how many showers she took. It ran deeper than her fur, through her skin. It chipped at her soul. Her being.

As she walked through the club, she could barely make eye contact with anyone else in the dimly lit room. Couldn't hear her thoughts over the blaring music that rattled her teeth. Handing the money to her boss. She didn't wait for his reaction. She didn't want any praise he had to offer. And the more she thought about what she had done the more she wanted to tell someone. Anyone.

And when she exited the club, she ran right into Chase, and before a word left his mouth, she embraced him —something she never did— and cried into his shoulder.

"It's ok. Just breathe." His voice was soft, comforting, and she felt safe with him. She cried until she couldn't anymore and had to kneel down as her strength left her.

"I can't do this anymore. I hate it here. I feel so . . so used and dirty but Jamie's bills are only going to get worse, and I am barely getting by as it is. I can't listen to his cries anymore and I need to earn more money but . . . I just can't anymore. And I hate that I feel this way because it doesn't matter." she buried her muzzle deeper into his chest, " I don't have anywhere else to go." She knew there wasn't much Chase could say that he hadn't already tried or she hadn't already heard. Pray, God will help you. Have faith. But how could anyone help her? How could someone, who she couldn't even see, possibly help her?

Chase rubbed her back and helped her to her feet. The night had grown cold and once they separated Gasket hugged herself, hating herself.

As the rain began to pour, Chase gazed down at her with fierce intensity. Yet she didn't feel scared, only safe.

"Pray."

"You can't just throw that out and expect me to believe that it will solve everything." Gasket's voice cracked as she tried to make him see. "Not when He would be disgusted with me to begin with. How could I ask anything of Him?"

"What would you want Jamie to do?"

"What?" Gasket sniffled, rubbing rain out of her eyes.

"If Jamie were in trouble, and he didn't feel like he could come to you, what would you want him to do? Hide from you? Suffer in secret?"

"Of course not! Of course I would want him to talk to me. I love him."

The shepherd paused and closed his hands around hers. "Think of Jamie and pray to your Father."

"My father won't help me. I don't think he made if you know what I mean."

"Your heavenly Father."

Gasket opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. She willed words to come, to defend her case but nothing but curiosity seeped out of her. Blinking at him, confusedly, she tried to fathom anyone thinking of her how she thought of Jamie, loving her the way she loved him. It was too wonderful for her to believe. And even if it were true at one point. There was certainly no way He still loved her like that. Not with everything she'd done.

Thinking about it all, the only thing she wanted to do was wash herself, scrub off the sweat, the guilt that weighed her to the asphalt. She drove home, dangerously close to over the speed limit, looking over her shoulder to make sure nobody was following her, watching her, until she rushed inside. She only checked if Jamie was asleep, he was. She went into the bathroom and stripped down and held herself as the icy cold water penetrate her fur. By the time the hot water came on, she was crying. By the time she was satisfied that she was clean enough, the hot water had run out, as had her remaining shampoo. Getting out, toweling off, and changing, she collapsed onto the bed, dripping her tears onto the blankets.

She barely heard the door easing open and small paw steps approaching her until her son's scent overwhelmed her.

Clutching Spots in one arm, and holding her arm with the other, he watched her with round eyes that begged for an explanation. Gasket buried her face in her arms as her cheeks began to burn.

"Mommy?" the little pup whispered.

Wincing, Gasket uncovered her face and embraced the pup and buried her muzzle into his neck, smelling the peach shampoo he insisted on using.

And then they were both in her bed. And then under the covers, pressed together, Gasket holding Jamie and Jamie holding Spots. And peace found them as they slept.

Jamie kicked her awake. Three in the morning, that was the time her heart sank as her son's eyes squeezed shut, writhing in the sheets and holding Spots to his chest until she woke him and he hugged her instead.

And for the second time, Gasket broke. What else could she do? When they would sleep together, it always fixed things. Why was this happening now? Sighing, frustration leaking through, coming out in a choked breath, she left him.

Stumbling through the kitchen, she found his bottle, brought out milk and filled the cup, spilling some of it on the counter. And as the microwave buzzed, shedding what little light it could into the dark room, she took a deep breath.

With milk in paw, she made it five feet to her bedroom when she tripped on Jamie's toy dinosaurs and slammed into the ground, milk spilling all over her.

Slowly, she got up to her knees, contemplating everything. She would need to do private dances for a month if she were to afford Jamie's medicine and further treatment. But she didn't have the heart to be able to do one more private session. She was still stuck. And she hated it.

Gasket grabbed a pillow off of the couch and pressed it to her muzzle. Suddenly she was yelling, raging, crying until her voice was gone and she curled in on herself as hollowness consumed her. Her voice came out as an agonized whisper as she looked to the ceiling.

"I can't do this anymore. I've tried everything but everything is getting harder. Please. You have to help me. I'm sorry I've run from you. I'm sorry for work and my attitude and for leaving you out of the picture. But I need you now. I can't do this by myself."

She expected something grand and miraculous to happen. For angels to appear and for music to play and for everything to be fixed. But all that changed was a flicker of hope, a spark inside. But she held onto it. Because if there was a chance that she was being heard, then that meant that she wasn't alone after all.

As she got up, the weight on her shoulders lessened. And after going back to the kitchen for more milk, she returned to her room. And when crying didn't meet her ears halfway there, she grew worried. Nudging the door open, she expected so many different situations but what she found was completely unexpected.

Jamie was not only quiet but fast asleep. Letting out a sigh of relief, Gasket got into bed and sipped on the milk herself, noting that it was better than she had remembered when she was young. And she sat, one hand feeding herself milk while the other stroked Jamie's back as he slept until a warm fuzziness cradled her and ushered her under the covers. She was asleep in minutes.

When she awoke the next morning, she was happy and still confused to find Jamie asleep. But she decided not to question it and got ready for work. Shouldering on her jacket, she missed the milky fuzziness of last night as she put her shoes on. Before she left, she kissed Jamie and headed out the door. Once at work, the familiar music filling her ears told her that Jakie was on stage. She would be up next. She headed to the lockers, missing Jamie, and hating where she was.

And only seconds after she had gotten changed, her song came on, ushering her on stage.

She could feel eyes on her, and it weighed her down. Her movements were robotic, heavy, as she tried to physically hold herself up against the weight of it all. As if the longer she stayed there, the heavier laden with guilt and disgust she became. John watched her, through his drunken stupor. Watching intently. Hungrily.

And all at once, she couldn't bear the weight anymore, and she fell to her knees. She couldn't handle the eyes burning through her fur, the hushed voices, or the cheers and whistles. All at once, she realized that she never belonged here.

As she stared at the stage, reflecing the above lights, her song ended, and determinedly strode to the lockers to grab her clothes. This place. This place was was slowly killing her inside. And she had to escape.

But as she passed through the tables and customers, heading to her boss's office, she caught John's gaze, tracking her.

The red husky pushed through the crowd until he reached her, gripping her arm with a slimy paw. "There's my girl. I loved. . .loved our private session last night." He swayed back and forth, and his breath stung her nose. "I have more. . .more money and I want another," he burped. "Another dance. We have a connection. Don'tyou see?"

Her voice wavered as she spoke. "I am retired as of tonight."

"Please Gasket, make, can you make a exception? For me?" John pushed a wad of money towards her but she backed away and batted away the money.

For a second all of the money exploded from the rubber band containing it and it showered down onto the ground. At once everyone in the vicinity of the blast tripped over each other to grab as much of it as they could. John tried to stop them but by the time he had salvaged what little money he could, all of the others were running to the door or further into the crowd, wads of cash in hand.

Growling, John lunged at her. Claws brushed against her arm and his grip was tight. "You'll pay for that!"

Suddenly he gagged, and without warning, he vomited over her and collapsed. Running into the bathroom Gasket wiped herself clean with a damp towel.

Mascara running down her face, she tried to take deep breaths of the acrid air around her. She leaned against the sink and looked into it and then up to the crack-riddled ceiling. "Please help me find another way to support Jamie and me."

Determinedly, she cut through the sea of people, carving a path to her boss's office.

"Done already?" Rubble asked, half glancing out of his window as Kylie danced.

"I'm done alright. I quit!"

Now she had his full attention and he scrambled to his feet, reaching out to her with desperate paws.

"Now hold on. Let's not make decisions we will regret. You have a good thing going here."

"No, I don't. And I won't work here another second. This will be the last time you earn money off of my body." And she shoved the money at him and left before he could try and change her mind. And suddenly, all of her fierce resolve dampened as she thought of the one dog working there that she would miss.

Pushing the door open, she made it to Chase's post just outside. Holding a paw up to shield the rain from her eyes, she spotted the shepered and hugged him as tightly as she could. She said goodbye to him, for the last time. But she didn't have the heart to tell him that, so she told him she would see him soon.

Wiping her face of moisture, of rain and sweat, she was rounding the corner, car in sight, when an arm grabbed her and pulled her into the shadow of the building.

Blackness surrounded her and the acrid smell of dried vomit filled her nose as she pushed against a solid mass that held her in place. She didn't have to see him to know who it was.

"Let go!" Gasket yelled, but John squeezed her arms and held her against the wall.

"Not until you pay. . ." John's voice strained to hold in his growl, which rumbled in his chest. Stretching his jaws open, he pinned her to the wall, strands of saliva caught the moonlight, dripping down sharp teeth aimed at her neck, and Gasket froze. John let out a vicious snarl and dove for her. Gasket squeezed her eyes shut and waited for pain. Growls cut out and morphed into choking gasps for air.

Peaking her eyes open, she saw strong arms coiling around John's neck, squeezing until his eyes bulged out of his head as he clawed at her protector's arm, trying to free himself. Efforts that quickly grew tired until his eyes shut, and his body went limp.

Gasket wiped the fresh tears that leaked down her muzzle and found her rescuer. She let out a gasp as Chase lowered John's limp body to the ground onto his stomach, before producing a few zip-ties and restraining his wrists tightly.

"Are you ok?" he asked, getting up.

Gasket nodded her head, trying to steady her breathing, until she rushed to the shepherd and hugged him. The fear that had choked her of words and air loosened its grip around her throat and a warm wave washed over her. Warm tingles ran down her arms and up her neck and she was able to catch her breath. They separated.

"What will happen to him." Gasket looked down at the unconscious husky, face down on the pavement.

"The police are on their way. They will decide that."

"Gasket?" Chase took hold of her paw and spoke softly, "You don't need to worry about Jaime anymore. Your cries have been heard. You have everything you need to provide for both of you. You just need to look hard enough. But until then."

While Chase reached into his leather jacket, Gasket was tripping over her words, wondering how he could possibly know such things, when a white envelope was placed in her hands. Chase hugged her tightly, "Take care."

Again, they separated, and he walked inside the club; music and voices leaking out of the open door until it swung shut.

Tentatively, Gasket opened the envelope and found money inside. She rushed to her car, locked the doors, and quickly counted the money, finding enough to cover groceries and rent for the next four months. He had given her time. He had given her a chance. A chance to find anywhere else to work. She would not waste it.

As she drove home, she began calculating the number of hours she would need to work, once she found a new job, to support her and Jamie, and to pay for his medication. She would work twice as hard. Start with one job and then get a second once she was in the groove of things. But where would she work?

As she parked, she lost track of time, splashing through the puddles that shimmered a brilliant mix of black with white highlights, enough to guide her inside her apartment. Once inside, she dropped her purse and jacket while clutching onto the envelope, which she shoved under her mattress until she could find somewhere more secure and went to check on Jamie.

Gasket found him asleep and was about to go to her bed when something tugged at her to stay. She climbed carefully into his bed and held him close to her, brushing his arm, claws tickling his skin the way he liked, and for extra measure, prayed he would sleep through the night.

When she woke, alarm flooded through her as she found, or didn't find, Jamie, sleeping next to her. Was he hiding? Did he have another accident? She checked the sheets, but they were dry.

As her feet hit the cool tiled floor, she moved into the kitchen and her heart leapt out of her chest, and it took all of her strength to keep her composure somewhat controlled, only letting out a gasp.

Jamie was sitting at the table, the table that was set, set with two plates full of peanut butter and toast sitting untouched. And she couldn't help laughing at the big glasses full of chocolate milk that accompanied the plates. Because of course he would take advantage of being in control of preparing breakfast, it certainly came with its perks.

"Hi mommy," He sat up straighter, watching her intently, waiting for something.

"Jamie. You made breakfast?"

The black and gray husky nodded as his smile grew bigger still. "Ya!"

Gasket searched his face for any sign of tiredness or concealed anxiety, any sign that what she was seeing was too good to be true, but he looked fine. Actually, he looked great. His eyes sparkled and there was an air of calm that had all but eluded him since the nightmares began, robbing him of the peace that now oozed out of him. All at once, the boy she had been missing for months now had returned to her, as if he had never left.

"Baby? Did you sleep good?" She asked, sitting down.

Another nod came from the small husky, as he wriggled in his seat, tail thumping against the back of his chair.

"Mommy, I don't need medicine after all."

Gasket blinked, chewing her food, peanut butter sticking to the roof of her mouth. "Oh, sweetie, of course you do. Where did you hear differently?"

"In a dream."

"Oh." Gasket rolled her eyes with a smile. She didn't want to discourage his imagination or discredit the fact that he had a night of nightmare-free sleep under his belt. But she, and presumably her son, knew that he did indeed need something for his nightmares. "Was it one of your imaginary friends that told you?"

"No." Jamie smiled, "Your fweind Chase told me."

Gasket stopped mid-chew, and looked her son over, waiting for him to correct himself, but when he sat unblinkingly, she sipped down some milk and cleared her throat.

"Chase? How do you know who he . . ."

But Jamie cut her off, practically bouncing in his seat. "Mommy, he told me I wouldn't have nightmares anymowe! He told me you asked a King for help. Do you really know a King?"

"Woah, slow down, baby." Gasket was getting choked up at this point, and she drank more milk to delay the conversation from going any further while she could help it. This was heavy stuff to take at six in the morning. No nightmares, talking to God. And somewhere in between Jamie and Chase got acquainted.

She put her head in her paws, and there was a moment of silence between them. Her breathing became labored, and she felt tears beginning to form.

"Mommy, did I do something wrong?"

At once Gasket got up, smiling, trying to dis-way his anxiety, and scooped him up in her arms. "Of course not, you did nothing wrong. This is a very good thing. It's amazing." She said the last part mostly to herself.

And though some voices told her she was dreaming, that she would wake up to find that Jamie was still sick, there was a bigger part of her that knew what the little husky was telling her was true. There was a part of her that believed full-heartedly. And the truth was too wonderful for her to comprehend. And that meant something. It meant a lot of things, things she wasn't fully ready to analyze though. It meant Chase wasn't who he said he was, for one. Although she never asked if he was indeed from earth, so he never actually lied.

But there was one thing she was certain of. She would use this opportunity to sell her cookbook. She could even get a job working at a restaurant. And nothing was going to stop her. Now that she had a King on her side.