She shook her head. “Nothing,” she said. “It’s just…I can’t remember the last time I felt this happy.”
Billy stopped a childish squeal from leaping off his diaphragm. “Me too,” he said, shrugging. “Although I think we could have driven through a hurricane and it would have been a blast sharing it with you.”
Vicki smiled widely and, when they finished, surveyed their work. “I think it’s the best we can do for now,” she said.
Billy nodded in agreement. “Mark will never know,” he joked.
Vicki laughed. “Sure, if he doesn’t drive it for a couple of weeks.”
Billy laughed along with her. “I’m not worried about it. When I tell him what kind of night this was, I’m sure he’ll understand.” He looked up at her, realizing just how revealing his comments were and how very little—his thoughts or feelings—he was holding back.
Her smile vanished and she dove back into his eyes, with an intensity that stole his breath away once more. “I’d understand if I were him,” she whispered.
As they drove home—soaked to the bone—Vicki echoed Billy’s thoughts. “Tonight was so much fun,” she said.
“I know,” he said, “which is good ’cause Mark’s never going to let me take his car again.”
They both scanned the car’s interior; the seats and carpets were saturated with water.
“Oh man,” Billy said and they both started laughing again.
Not wanting the night to end, he drove her home at a snail’s pace. And he sensed Vicki felt the same. They were surely going to be together again and there would be other amazing nights. But not this night, he thought, holding her hand tightly. We will never have this night again.
After sharing a short, sweet kiss at the door—being respectful to anyone who might be watching—Billy whispered, “Thank you for tonight. It was…”
“…perfect,” she whispered. “I know.” She hugged him. “But I’m the one who should be thanking you.”
“You’re welcome,” he said. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
She shook her head.
“No?” he said, his heart rate immediately changing.
“Call me when you get home,” she said, kissing him again. “There’s no way I’ll be able to get any sleep tonight anyway.”
He nodded, before floating back to the borrowed ragtop. There’s no way I’m getting any sleep tonight either, he realized.
The drive home was a confusing one. With the top down and the warm night reminding him of their date, he wanted to take it slow. But he was also looking forward to hearing Vicki’s voice again. He got on the gas and took the short way home. Jimmy’s going to love this one, he thought, wearing a smile that felt like it might actually explode off his face.
⁕
Billy returned home and headed straight to his room to crash. While Jimmy waited patiently for some long-overdue attention, Billy changed into dry pajama bottoms and called Vicki’s cell phone. “Hey, do you miss me yet?” he asked, brushing his wet hair back.
“Just as soon as you dropped me off,” she whispered.
“Me too,” Billy said, feeling his chest grow warm. “I’ll be thinking about you all night.”
“I hope so,” she said.
He smiled widely. “Well, goodnight then.”
“Goodnight,” she whispered.
Billy could still hear her breathing. “Are you going to hang up?” he asked.
“You first,” she said.
He smiled. “No,” he whispered, “you first.”
Vicki giggled, making Billy do the same. It would have been embarrassing had it been anybody but Jimmy listening.
“Goodnight,” she said again—in the sweetest voice Billy had ever heard.
“Goodnight,” he repeated. “I’ll send you a text just as soon as I get up in the morning.”
“You’d better,” she said.
“Okay then,” he said, “goodnight.” As if he were in pain, he closed his eyes and ended the call.
When he opened his eyes again, Jimmy’s silver snout was an inch from his. Billy laughed. “Sorry, buddy,” he said, scratching the dog’s thick neck for a few minutes. Yawning, Billy took off his damp shirt and was about to toss it onto the floor when he caught a whiff of Vicki’s perfume. Instead, he rolled the shirt into a ball, shoved it into his face and inhaled deeply. “Ahhh,” he exhaled. It’s Vicki, he thought, collapsing onto his bed where he inhaled Vicki’s scent and made Jimmy whimper at the unusual behavior. Between breaths, he told the fidgeting dog, “I love her, buddy. I really do. I know we just started seeing each other, but I can’t help how I feel.” He thought about it and nodded. “I love her so much it hurts.”
Sighing heavily, Jimmy stuck his own snout into the shirt for a smell.
“She’s so amazing, Jimmy. I can’t stop staring at her when I’m with her and sometimes I’m telling her my deepest thoughts without even realizing I’m doing it.” He looked at the dog. “And you know I’ve never done that. I usually keep my thoughts to myself.” He shook his head. “But not with Vicki. Nope, with her it’s like I feel free to tell her whatever I’m thinking or feeling.” Billy scratched Jimmy’s head. “You just wait ’til you meet her.”
Jimmy plunged his black nose deeper into the balled shirt to get another whiff.
“She’s so beautiful,” Billy added, “and I love her voice.” He laughed. “Even the way she laughs at my stupid jokes…It makes me feel like the luckiest guy in the whole world. And her smell…” Billy dove back into the shirt with Jimmy, where they were both lulled to sleep by Vicki’s distinct scent.
Chapter 9
In the morning, after texting Vicki back and forth for twenty minutes—his nose still buried in the damp, perfumed shirt—Billy caught the time. “Oh shit! We have to get ready for work, Jimmy,” he said, feeling rattled for the first time in his life about running behind. “We can’t be late.” While Jimmy watched on, curiously, Billy sprang out of bed.
Billy had already discovered that the new job at the animal shelter had less than ideal hours. Scheduled to start early in the mornings and work on the weekends, there was less time for hanging out with friends—just as Mark had predicted. But Charlie’s all but disappeared, Billy thought, and Mark’s taking summer classes. There was also no time for the things he once loved—like video games and sleeping in. But since Vicki had entered his life, those things were going to take a back seat anyway and he knew it. He looked at his cell phone, awaiting a reply from her. It’s the time away from Vicki that’s the worst, he thought.
It took all Billy had just to drag himself into the shower. Minutes later, rich Columbian coffee grabbed whatever senses were still dull and shook them to sobriety. As Billy cradled the hot mug, he shook his head. This is nuts, he thought. Who gets up and goes to work this early?
He looked down at Jimmy, who was fidgeting with a breakfast that had been served much too early. He’s also struggling with the new routine, Billy thought.
⁕
The Honda’s rotted exhaust had finally given way. The car was obnoxiously loud and getting louder by the day, sounding like a country tractor pull screaming into the night.
A mile down the road, Billy picked up his cell phone. Alternating his attention between the road in front of him and the phone, he punched in numbers and waited until four rings led to Vicki’s outgoing message. He listened to her sweet voice and smiled. At the beep, he cleared his throat. “Hey, beautiful,” he said, “I was wondering if it would be okay if Jimmy and I swung by your house after work. Just call me when you get a chance. I can’t stop thinking about you and I need to hear your voice.” He hung up, looked down at Jimmy and shrugged. “Well, I do.”
The mutt yawned.
As they drove, Billy asked the dog, “What do you think of me becoming a writer?”
Jimmy never even lo
oked up; he was sitting quietly in his seat, looking like he dreaded going back to the shelter.
Billy thought about it and snickered. “Nah, probably not,” he said. “It seems like a whole lot of work for very little pay.” He sighed. “But if not writing, then what?”
Jimmy kept his head buried in his dirty white paws.
They were just pulling into the shelter’s stone parking lot when Billy called Charlie’s phone three times before he answered. “Bro, you need to man up,” he pleaded the moment Charlie answered.
There was silence.
“Are you there?” Billy asked.
“Yeah, I’m here,” Charlie whispered.
“You need to tell the cops about what really happened that night, Charlie.”
“I don’t think so,” Charlie said.
“But you…”
“Billy, you’re not going to dime me out, are you?” Charlie asked, his voice thick with fear.
“Of course not. I’d never do that. You know that!”
“Good.” Charlie took a deep breath. “I just need to do this my way, okay?”
“And what way is that?”
“I…I don’t know yet.”
There was a pause. “You’re going to have much bigger problems if you don’t…”
“What the hell do you know about problems?” Charlie snapped at Billy.
“Just do the right thing, Charlie,” Billy said, thinking, You have no idea the problems you’ve already caused me.
Charlie replied with the usual dial tone.
“Selfish bastard,” Billy hissed. “Why should other people have to pay for your sins?”
⁕
Billy’s shift had just started when a woman, Mrs. Thompson, was dragged through the front door by a tank that resembled a Rottweiler. Billy immediately thought of Roxy. As Mrs. Thompson leaned back, hanging onto the thick leash with every ounce of her strength, she told Billy, “Help me, please.”
Jimmy immediately stood behind Billy, trembling at the sight of the giant.
Arlene’s robust laugh echoed off the walls. Billy turned to see her standing behind him. She proceeded right to the Rottweiler and grabbed his leash. “What can we do for you?” Arlene asked Mrs. Thompson, awaiting the obvious.
Once she’d calmed her breathing, Mrs. Thompson explained, “I brought Roger in because he’s too big and awkward around our small children.” She shook her head and her eyes glassed over from honest care and compassion. “He’s a good boy, a big baby, and he doesn’t mean it, but he’s going to end up hurting someone bad…or killing one of us.”
While Jimmy peeked out from the safety of Billy’s legs, Arlene knelt before the massive Rotty and studied his face. As she played with him, she was able to safely touch the dog’s ears, mouth, tail, legs and belly. The Rottweiler was young, maybe two years old, but he was enormous, weighing well over one hundred forty pounds.
A prime example of new dog owners not doing their homework, Billy thought, realizing he’d already learned quite a bit from Arlene.
Jimmy still shook violently behind him.
Arlene and Billy spent a few minutes with Roger, while Jimmy shrank into the corner of the room, as though he were trying to make himself invisible. It was long enough to know Roger had a great temperament. He was non-aggressive and in good health.
“We have space available,” Arlene told Mrs. Thompson, who appeared instantly relieved. “The next step is for you to fill out a questionnaire that’ll give us information about Roger. I’ll also need your vet’s phone number so I can retrieve the big boy’s medical records.”
Mrs. Thompson nodded gratefully.
“Rottweilers can be as hard to place as Akitas, Chows, Dobermans, Pit Bulls and Shar Peis.” She winked. “Luckily, I know a guy who knows a guy.”
Mrs. Thompson laughed; it was more an extended sigh of relief than anything else.
“There is a surrender fee we charge for turning in an animal,” Arlene concluded. “This will help to defray the cost of Roger’s stay while he’s here with us.”
“Name your price,” Mrs. Thompson said, completing the questionnaire like she was claiming her lottery winnings.
Billy looked down at Jimmy, who was still quivering in fear, and realized, He’s already had enough of this place.
Stepping lighter than when she’d arrived, Mrs. Thompson closed the shelter’s front door behind her. Arlene turned to Roger and said, “I know just the family for you, Zeus.” She bent down and re-checked the giant dog’s undercarriage. He still had his God-given jewels. “A breeder,” she confirmed. “They’re definitely going to love you.”
“What do you mean?” Billy asked.
Arlene explained, “Zeus is one lucky boy…”
“Zeus?” Billy asked. “I thought his name was Roger.”
She shook her head. “There’s no way this titan’s leaving here with the name Roger.” Arlene had a knack of picking the perfect name for a dog; if they were older and attached to a ridiculous name then she wouldn’t muddle with it. But if they were still young enough to take on a new identity, she made it part of her mission to select the right name.
Billy laughed and took a knee to calm Jimmy down. “You’re okay, buddy,” he whispered.
“I know a breeder who’s looking for a new stud.” Arlene examined the four-legged ogre and grinned. “And with a specimen like him…before it’s over, he’s going to father a hundred offspring.” She brought Zeus into the back, making Jimmy’s heart rate slow to normal.
⁕
That afternoon, as Billy began socializing two new dogs, Arlene peeked her head into the back. “Billy, what do you think about helping me with our newsletter?”
He looked up. “Of course,” he said. “Is it online?”
She half shrugged. “Kind of.”
“Kind of?”
“We have a website, but it’s dated and needs some serious TLC.”
“I can take a look at that too,” he said. “Once we throw some lipstick on the pig, I’ll post the newsletter there as well.”
Arlene chuckled at the pig reference, before returning to the issue at hand. “Wow, if you can get all that done, I may ask for your help with one of our many fundraisers.”
“What fundraisers?” Billy asked.
“With the help of lots of volunteers, we run an annual dinner and silent auction, an arts festival, a casino trip, a couple different wine tastings and my favorite, our Santa Paws event. We host a pancake breakfast and have Santa Claus there to take pictures with children and their pets.”
“Very cool,” Billy said. “I’ll have to go when I’m back home on Christmas break.”
She nodded. “Your ticket’s on me.”
“So what do you need help with?” he asked.
“We do pretty good running the events, but it’s spreading the word that’s always been our challenge.”
“Do you promote the events online,” he asked, “like on social media?”
She shook her head again, blushing.
“I’m on it,” he said, making her face glow.
As Arlene walked away, Billy contemplated all the time and effort this would take. He smiled. I can’t think of a better way to spend my time, he thought, than to do whatever I can to help these animals. If it helps them find good homes, then I’m all in.
At the end of the day, Billy watched Jimmy lying in the shadows of the yard, a safe distance from the animal community. He lapped at his hind legs, as if trying to lick the aches and pains of old age away. Dogs are pack animals and there’s a hierarchy, a social order, Billy contemplated, scanning the yard, but Jimmy’s too old and tired to try to claim his spot. Instead, the aged black mutt refused to play and take part in any of the foolishness. “Jimmy,” Billy yelled, “come on, boy, it’s time to go home.”
Jimmy’s re
flexes weren’t what they used to be. He stood slowly, stiffly, and made his way toward Billy. When he got close enough, Billy could see the joy in the dog’s eyes—to be leaving. Unfortunately, his broken body could no longer tell the same story.
“We’ve worked hard enough for one day,” he told the senior canine, and he didn’t have to tell him twice.
Jimmy made a beeline toward the front door.
On their way out, Billy caught Arlene in the supply room. “Everything’s done,” he said, “we’re taking off for the day.”
She looked up from her clipboard and nodded. “Make sure you spoil that dog with some love tonight.” She winked at Jimmy.
“Every night,” Billy said, smiling. “Are you out of here soon?”
She looked down at the clipboard and sighed. Arlene got paid for eight hours a day, but usually worked closer to twelve. “It’ll be a while yet.” She grinned. “It’s a good thing I record my favorite shows.”
Billy laughed. “We’ll see you in the morning,” he said.
“I’ll be here,” she replied and, before returning to the task at hand, she reached into her back pocket, retrieved a white envelope and handed it to Billy.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“Your paycheck.” She grinned. “You didn’t come in every day as a volunteer, did you?”
He smiled. “No,” he said, and was surprised when a strange thought crossed his mind: But I would have been just as happy volunteering.
With Jimmy taking the lead, Billy left the shelter. They weren’t even at the Honda when Billy tore the envelope open and looked at his first paycheck—being “on the books.” His eyes went wide. It was much less than he’d expected. What the hell? he thought. Some of it must be missing. As he slid into the driver’s seat and fired up the screeching monster, he turned to Jimmy. “I’m not sure there’s much of a difference between being a volunteer or a paid employee.”
The Changing Season Page 17