by Abby Jimenez
I narrowed my eyes at her.
“You’re meticulous with time management and routine, he’s got three medications a day. You want to stay home, so does he. You have a fancy apartment, he’s not destructive. He doesn’t shed, his poop is the size of a Tootsie Roll. He uses pee pads so you don’t even have to walk him if you don’t feel like leaving the house. He’s perfect. If you don’t love him, bring him to work tomorrow and I’ll take him back or something.”
I let out a long sigh and looked at the little thing. “Does he even have teeth?”
“Nope. Which is good because he bites.”
I snorted.
She picked up her bag from the floor. “Let me in so I can show you his stuff.” She squeezed past me, and I closed the door behind her. “Hold him.” She held out the shivering dog. When I didn’t take him, she gave me crazy eyes and pushed him gently into my chest.
He growled.
She plunged her hands into the bag she had with her. “Okay, so he’s got arthritis and allergies and a skin infection, so he gets one of these every morning and this last one at night too.” She shook three bottles. “Put them in cream cheese. He’ll just swallow it. He can’t have dry food because of the no-teeth thing, so he’s got wet food here. He needs a medicated bath once a week for his dry skin. Here are his diapers—”
“Diapers?” I said. “It’s incontinent?”
She paused with her hands in the bag to scowl up at me. “He’s fourteen. That’s like a million years old in people years. Also, he has worms.”
“What?”
She rolled her eyes. “They already treated him for it. He’s just gonna poop them out or something, so don’t freak out if you see a tapeworm in there. Only freak out if it’s moving. Then you need to take him back to the vet.”
“Jesus Christ, Becky.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “You’re asking me to be a damn dog nurse.”
“Yup.” She stood and handed me the bag.
I let out a resigned puff of air. “What’s his name?” I mumbled, looking reluctantly at him.
“Harry Puppins.”
“Oh God.”
“You’ll be fine.”
“Even though my horoscope today says my life is about to change drastically?”
She shrugged. “Well, the way I see it, it can only change for the better.”
She popped her gum one more time and left.
CHAPTER 4
THIS STARTLING VIDEO
WILL HAVE YOU COVERING
YOUR EYES!
VANESSA
I was dabbing Carmex on the split in my lip when I heard talking in the hallway. I leaned on my fingertips to peer through the peephole. Adrian, with some girl who was holding a Chihuahua.
I could barely see him from that angle, but I had a full view of her.
She was pretty, which I guess wasn’t surprising. The man was a ten. He could probably date supermodels if he wanted to.
Adrian got closer to her to look at the dog, and he shifted into my line of sight. He was still in his suit from earlier, only he’d lost the jacket and tie. The top two buttons of his light-blue work shirt were undone and his sleeves were rolled up to the elbow.
God, he was sexy. You could make a calendar of the many looks of Adrian Copeland and raise enough money to fund the cure for cancer. Adrian, jogging shirtless. Adrian in a suit. Adrian, with my cranky niece on his chest.
He looked annoyed. He had his arms crossed. I couldn’t really hear what they were talking about.
My laptop chimed with an incoming Skype call.
Drake.
I left my post and sat down and answered.
Drake Lawless’s tan face popped up onto my screen. Judging by the palm trees behind him, he was someplace tropical. I was already jealous.
He had on his shark-tooth necklace, no shirt as usual, and his blond hair was wild. I could practically smell the coconut sunblock and ocean through my computer.
“’Sup, gorgeous.” He gave me one of his dazzling smiles. “Sooo…Jesus’s Abs?”
I snorted. “You have no idea. The man is God’s gift to all of us,” I said, poking around my desk for a nail file. “It was like Jesus’s Abs take the wheel over here.”
Too bad I’ll probably never see him again unless I look through a peephole.
Drake didn’t get a chance to reply because Laird walked naked across the back of the screen.
“Laird!” I shrieked, turning hard to the left. Both men laughed from my laptop.
“Hey, Nessa,” Laird called.
I huffed indignantly at my floor. “Laird, I’m still not speaking to you.”
“Oh, come on.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “He made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”
I peeked up at the screen. Laird stood grinning at me over Drake’s shoulder, a direct view of his crotch mercifully covered by Drake’s body.
I crossed my arms. “First you leave me for Drake and make me scramble to find a new cameraman, and now you’ve made me see your balls. Just when I thought my week couldn’t get worse.”
Both men laughed again and Laird walked off screen, penis swinging. I looked back at Drake. “Please buy your employee some pants, or give him a fig leaf or a loincloth or something?”
He chuckled good-naturedly.
Typical Drake. Zero decorum. Camp Lawless was like a hippie commune. Naked yoga and going on about chakras. I wouldn’t be surprised if a goat wearing a lei with a chicken riding its back wandered through next.
Drake tipped his head. “You need anything, butterfly? How’s motherhood?”
“Good. Great. It’s amazing how much it changes you. I find myself saying things like, ‘It’s just baby pee.’ Like that’s okay, like it’s superior to the regular kind so I should be fine that it’s on my goose-down comforter.”
He laughed.
I let out a long breath. “I have no idea how I’m going to keep stretching content out of this situation.”
“No change with Annabel? Do you have any idea where she is?”
I scoffed. “I know exactly where she is. She’s at my dad’s. And speaking of Dad, he showed up here with her earlier demanding that I let them see Grace. She was completely high. And then Dad accidently pushed the door into my mouth.” I put my tongue to the scab. “Jesus’s Abs came home and ran them off—because it wasn’t enough that I only seem crazy in front of him once.”
He managed to appear concerned and amused at the same time. “How did she look?”
I glanced away from him. “Not good. Maybe the worst I’ve ever seen her,” I admitted.
Drake was well aware of my family issues. I didn’t need to regale him with the details. He knew all about the day Annabel dropped off Grace and never came back.
She used my bathroom before she left. Stole a whole bottle of hydrocodone and drank all my cough medicine with codeine and then filled the bottle up with water so I wouldn’t notice—I noticed.
“I’m trying to get her into rehab, but she won’t go,” I said.
“Can you talk to your dad?”
I huffed. “Yeah. Dad can’t even help himself,” I said bitterly. I rubbed at my forehead. His eyes followed my hand up and focused on the brace I wore. For the first time, maybe ever, I saw the humor drop away and a frown touch the corners of his mouth. Drake always smiled. I’d seen him smile being carried off on a stretcher with third-degree burns. The man’s happy didn’t have an off switch.
I put my arm off camera. “It’s just for typing,” I lied.
He went quiet for a moment. “Are you going to have it looked at?” he asked, his voice low.
I pressed my lips into a line. “There’s no point in spending months at the hospital getting poked and prodded for a diagnosis that won’t change the outcome. I’m not living my life like the Cyclops, giving up an eye to know the future of how and when I’ll die. My grandma had it. My sister Melanie had it. My aunt Linda had it. My mom had it too. All women, all dead by thirty. There’s a fi
fty percent chance I inherited the gene and based on the female line, I’d say it’s higher than that. I want to be blissfully ignorant until it’s painfully obvious how this ends. This is my choice. I have to live with it, sort of like everyone else’s shitty choices that I also have to live with.”
I couldn’t even do genetic testing to see if I was a carrier. Doctors couldn’t identify the mutated gene that ran in my family. If I was born with it, I wouldn’t know until it started to kill me.
He studied me quietly. “Are there any new clinical trials? It can’t hurt to try.”
I shook my head. Drake knew my position on this too.
Melanie had gone the Hail Mary route when she got sick. Tried it all. I promised myself if I ever got it, I wasn’t going to put myself through that. There was no point.
“It’s probably nothing. I’ll be okay. And hey, it could be worse,” I said. “I could have the gene that makes cilantro taste like soap.”
This drew a crooked smile.
Seeing that I wasn’t going to further the discussion, Drake took mercy on me and changed the subject. “If you’re looking for content, you and I could always get back together.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh ha ha.”
He grinned. “We were great together, butterfly. I miss you. And if you came here, I’d give you Laird back.”
“Keep him. I’ve seen enough of him for a lifetime.”
He chuckled.
“Anyway, I can’t take the baby out of the country. I’m trapped in my apartment, dealing with Child Protective Services, and getting an emergency injunction for guardianship over an abandoned infant because once again my family dumped their responsibilities on me.”
“Want me to send you my herbalist?”
I laughed a little. “No, it’s fine. I’ll manage. I always do.”
Well, I would as long as I could. Until I wouldn’t be around anymore to do it.
And that day might come sooner than I thought.
CHAPTER 5
MAN RESCUES DOG BUT WAIT
UNTIL YOU SEE WHAT IT DID TO
HIS APARTMENT!
ADRIAN
The dog was shitting everywhere.
I’d had the thing less than three hours, and I was already counting down the seconds until I got to hand him back to Becky.
The diapers wrapped around his belly and stopped only the urine from getting everywhere—which I suppose I should have been grateful for. But it did nothing for the pudding-like stool he was shitting all over my apartment. Luckily, he’d done this only on the hardwood so cleanup had been minimal, but it was far from pleasant.
I’d called Becky about it and she said it was probably just the dewormer upsetting his stomach and it would pass.
I knew nothing about dogs. We never had them growing up. My introduction so far was not going well.
On top of the messes, I was pretty sure the dog was not only deaf but also blind. He ran into walls and the legs of chairs. He growled every time I picked him up, but mostly because he didn’t see me coming and I think I was startling him.
I’d decided to try my luck at getting him to go outside, but in the freezing late November weather, he just stood on the sidewalk shivering and looking miserable until I took pity on him and put him in my jacket to go back upstairs.
I was making my way down the hall, pulling out my keys, when I glanced at Vanessa’s apartment door as I walked by.
I stopped.
What if that guy had come back after I’d gone inside?
I should check on her.
I knocked.
When Vanessa opened the door, she was in considerably better shape than earlier. Her split lip was almost invisible now that the blood was gone. Her long hair was in a neat braid over one shoulder—no vomit—and the pink tank top she was wearing was clean and showed off a nice figure I hadn’t noticed before.
“Hey, my hero.” She gave me a smile.
I fiddled with my keys. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay—and to see if you needed your trash run down. I imagine it’s probably hard to take it out with the baby.”
“Yes. I would love that service, thank you.” She tilted her head. “Wow, you just never stop giving, do you?”
“I figure your cockroaches are my cockroaches,” I mumbled, looking away from her down the hall and back again.
She grinned. “I didn’t know you had a dog.”
I looked down at Harry’s head poking out of my jacket. His tongue was hanging out, and he was shivering. “I don’t. I’m fostering him.”
“Oh. So we’re both fostering. Cool. It can be very rewarding, you know.”
I grunted noncommittally. “Well, right now it’s just shitting everywhere.”
She laughed. “Yeah, mine too.”
“Hey, we should probably exchange numbers,” I said. “So we know how to get in touch in case we need to.” I put a hand up. “I’m not hitting on you,” I added.
She scoffed. “Well, thank God for that because you are hideous.”
I snorted.
She leaned on the door frame. “Hey, I was about to order a pizza. You want to join me? You can bring your dog. And just so you know, I’m not hitting on you either,” she said. “I don’t date. This is purely in the spirit of saying thank you and wanting to hang out with someone old enough to drive.”
I paused a moment, debating her offer. I didn’t feel like being social—even though I knew I probably should. Sitting around feeling sorry for myself wasn’t good for me. I could practically hear Mom’s voice in my head telling me to get out and do something.
I heard Becky’s voice too. It was more annoying but saying the same thing.
“Well?” Vanessa cocked her head.
“Yeah. Sure.” Why not. “But no pizza. It’s famine food. I’ll pick us up something.”
Her eyes got big. “Like what? Like real food? From a restaurant? One that doesn’t do DoorDash?”
“That’s what I’m thinking.”
She put a hand to her chest. “Oh my God. I haven’t had anything exciting to eat in weeks.”
I smiled a little. “Do you like Muffoletto’s?”
“Yes,” she breathed. “Chicken marsala and…and a cannoli. Wait, no. Tiramisu. And spaghetti and meatballs and—”
I chuckled dryly and pulled out my phone. “Here, give me your number. Then just text me what you want. I could be back in forty-five, if that’s okay?”
“It’s so okay. And I’ll pay you back,” she added quickly.
“No, it’s fine. It’ll be my treat. I think maybe you’ve had a worse day than me.” If that was even possible.
She gave me her number and sent me her order. She didn’t ask for the cannoli, but I got it anyway. Then I wandered into their deli and grabbed a few of their prepared meals for her. Chicken piccata, a lasagna, and another chicken marsala.
I stopped, looking at the row of wine.
I liked a nice white with Italian food, but it felt a little too much like a date if I brought wine.
Eh, screw it. We’d both been pretty clear that wasn’t what this was. And I could use the drink. I picked a chardonnay I liked and made it back to her apartment with five minutes to spare.
She pulled open the door and let me inside. She’d thrown on a dark-green belted sweater. Open in the front. And she’d put on a little makeup. She looked nice.
Vanessa was a good-looking woman. She reminded me of that actress—what was her name? Jennifer Lawrence. Irony aside, she had that girl-next-door thing about her.
She held the door while I came in with the bags. “Ta-da! Clean!” she declared, putting a hand out proudly to show me the apartment. “It’s much easier to do when you don’t have to hold a screaming infant.”
The studio was spotless. It didn’t even look like the same space.
“Thank God,” I said, putting the bag down on the small table next to her kitchen. “I was worried we’d have to clear diapers to use the table.”
She laug
hed.
Grace was sleeping in a little swing next to the couch, rocking back and forth, a green pacifier in her mouth.
I’d left Harry Puppins at my apartment, locked in the bathroom with pee pads. I figured letting him shit all over Vanessa’s place probably wouldn’t be the best way to be a good house guest.
He’d bitten me before I left.
I began pulling out the food. “I got a few extra meals for you. Okay if I put them in the freezer?” I did it without waiting for her reply. “I got you a cannoli too.”
She eyed me suspiciously. “Are you sure you’re not hitting on me?” she asked, crossing her arms. “Because I gotta be honest, I could be into this.” She spied the bottle of wine and gasped, picking it up. “Oh, I love this one! It’s been months since I’ve had a Chateau Montelena chardonnay.”
I arched an eyebrow as I closed the freezer. “You know your wines.”
“I adore wine. Once I had a whole bottle of Château Margaux Margaux on the rooftop of my hotel in Paris.” She grabbed a wine opener from the drawer. “I’ll never forget the hangover the next day, but it was so worth it.”
“Pricey bottle.” About twelve hundred. More if the hotel sold it. She must make decent money.
“You only live once,” she sang. “God, I know I’ve only been doing this baby thing a few weeks, but it feels like a lifetime. You’re not supposed to take newborns out too much because their immune system isn’t strong enough yet, so I feel like a prisoner.” She handed me the bottle opener. “Would you mind?”
Grace had woken up and she watched us now with large blue eyes, like she was following the conversation. A cute baby.
I opened the wine bottle and handed it to Vanessa. “Why did you decide to foster?”
She poured us two glasses. “I kinda didn’t. She’s my sister’s baby. The girl in the hallway from earlier. Annabel.”