Crazy Bastard

by Angelique Voisen

  Ty blinked, not expecting a promotion, of all things. “The shelter can afford that?”

  “We’ve cut down on temporary staff, because they never last long. I suggested to management that it’ll be better to promote our hardworking permanent staff instead.”

  “Thanks, Janine. That really means a lot to me.”

  “That a ‘yes,’ then?”

  Ty’s gaze lingered to the pup who was hungrily eating his meal. The shelter was full. Within seventy-two hours, if no one adopted him… No. Ty couldn’t think about that.

  “Yes,” he said Janine, then pointed to the dog. “I want him, too.”

  Janine laughed. “Don’t you have enough pets at home already?”

  “No, he’ll go to someone else. Someone who needs him, too.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Tell Mr. Rollins I’ll get back to him first thing in the morning,” Vance told his secretary on the cell phone. He loosened his tie and peered at the time. “Marie, it’s late. Go back home to your family.”

  “You sure? Some of your staff are working late.”

  “I’m sure. Besides, those guys will be doing some overtime tonight but getting some time off next week.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Vance ended the call, nearly stumbling over something on his way to his apartment door. He frowned at the innocent-looking box sitting there. Vance reached for one of the open flaps, then hesitated. What if it contained something dangerous inside? Then he caught sight of the words written in blue marker on the side of the box.

  “‘From Ty.’ Really? That’s all you’re going to say?” he grumbled, then hefted the box. Vance fished out his keys and entered, only to feel the box shake.

  “What the hell?” He dropped the box. The flaps opened and something small and brown jumped out. Vance blinked, bending down to pick up what looked like a brown dog. The puppy woofed and licked at his face. A smile tugged on the corner of his lips, then he frowned, seeing the dog’s missing paw.

  Vance set the pup back down, unnamed emotions whirling inside him like the calm before the storm. “What the fuck, Ty. Is this some kind of twisted joke?”

  A broken puppy for a broken man.

  Just great, except he never saw Ty as cruel. Ty had such a huge heart that it put his own splintered one to shame. The pup flopped on its back, righted itself to nudge its head at his left shoe. He stared, unsure of what to do.

  Growing up, he’d always wanted a dog, but never had the chance to own one, not while he moved from one foster home to the next. Malik and he talked about getting a dog or cat, but he knew it had been a trap, a test. In Malik’s mind, if they could handle a pet, they could eventually adopt a kid. But he hadn’t been ready.

  “I have to return you,” he told the innocent animal with the big brown eyes. Shit. What was it with this mutt? It didn’t look like any breed he recognized. The pup licked at his shoe. He groaned. “I don’t have time for you.”

  He gave the pup a little nudge back to the box. The pup stumbled. Something seemed to have caught its interest, because it started for his couch, then slipped underneath it.

  “Damn, If you get stuck there…” Vance warned, then was interrupted by an excited bark.

  The pup came back out, holding something green between its jaws. A green Christmas ball. He swallowed. Memories of the past began to drown him. Malik and he were having one of their horrible fights on Christmas Eve. He hadn’t wanted a tree last year, because what was the point? Malik had taken out the decorations anyway and started setting it all up while Vance glared and fumed in the living room, not offering any help.

  One green ball had slipped from the tree. When Malik asked him to pick it up, he’d pretended not to hear.

  God. He was one nasty piece of work. He used to blame becoming bitter and angry all the time because of their marriage. Some marriages were like that, he’d told himself back then. Some aged over time like good wine, others turned into rot.

  Ty didn’t even know the whole truth.

  You must have loved him very much.

  Vance did, once upon a time.

  The pup carried the ball to him, but not without difficulties. The pup kept dropping it, stumbling on three awkward paws, before picking it up. Eventually, it dropped the decoration at his feet and wagged its tail.

  “What? You want to play fetch? No.”

  He kicked the ball away, only for the persistent pup to bring it back, with the same gait. Persistent little bugger didn’t know when to stop. His heart of ice started to melt. How could it not? Vance might have been a horrible husband, but he wasn’t cruel.

  Vance picked up the ball, sat on the couch, and turned the saliva-covered ball in his hands, thinking. The pup followed him, nudged at his shoe again.

  “I can’t return you now,” he told the pup tiredly.

  Vance knew how shelters operated. His company donated to several in the city, even the one Ty worked at. Hell, Vance even understood why Ty had given him this flawed little animal. Did the dog remind Ty of him? Maybe Ty simply didn’t want him to be alone.

  He threw the ball, played fetch for God knew how long. Sensing the pup was tiring out, he lifted the little dog and settled him on his lap. It sprawled there lazily, as if it were a feline, not a dog. He absentmindedly scratched its ears, already forming a plan in his head.

  Vance would go to a pet store tomorrow morning, find what he needed. Tonight, he could make a quick stop to the nearby grocer and get some dog food. He rose to his feet, gently set the pup on the couch, and headed to the front door. Then he paused. The pup had followed him to the door, looking at him with eager eyes.

  “I’m just heading out to get you some food and dinner for me.”

  Shit. He was talking to a dog now?

  Vance really needed to go out more, except the only man he wanted to see, lay out of his reach. He understood now that he didn’t want Ty to keep seeing him as a fucked-up mess. Vance need to clean up, fix himself.

  Maybe the first step to recovery was getting professional help. A lot of friends had recommended a few therapists after Malik died. Step by step, he told himself. Vance could do this. Ty hadn’t given up hope on him yet. If Ty believed in him, he should do the same. He’d prove to Ty he could take care of one stray puppy.

  “Fine, you can come, but we need to get you a collar too,” he added, allowing the little dog through the door.

  When the pup stumbled, he scooped the animal up and locked his door. For the first time in years, he wanted to head out and breathe in some fresh air. He wouldn’t be lonely. He had a new friend beside him.

  ****

  Seated on the front passenger seat, Coco barked.

  “Hush,” Vance said, putting a finger to his lips.

  The puppy probably didn’t understand. Vance didn’t understand why he took Coco along for the ride anyway. Yeah, you do. Coco aimed those big, puppy-dog eyes at him when he stood at the front door, and without a second thought, he scooped the little animal in his arms.

  Shit. Three days, and Coco managed to get under his skin. Not true. Ever since Coco jumped out of that box, he’d been doomed.

  Coco barked again, and he reached out and rubbed the puppy’s floppy ears. Vance rubbed Coco’s back then, until the puppy relaxed and decided to curl on the seat. He let out a relieved breath, then focused on his task.

  Vance made sure to pick a non-conspicuous parking spot, but at the same time, the position allowed him a view of the restaurant. The moment he’d gotten off work, he headed back home, changed into a hoodie and torn jeans, and drove to the Lakeside restaurant.

  He didn’t enter the restaurant. The staff would recognize him. Well, maybe not while he was dressed like this, but Vance didn’t dare risk it. He didn’t care about the opinions of others, only one man’s.

  Ty clearly wanted distance, yet Vance drove here every single night, like some sick stalker. He’d told himself to stop during his first stake-out, only to return the next evening. Like a d
rug addict who couldn’t break out of his habit, Vance started looking forward to catching glimpses of Ty.

  Through the clear windows, he finally spotted Ty in his waiter uniform, notepad in hand, scribbling furiously. He leaned against the wheel. Beside him, Coco started to snore but the sound comforted him since he didn’t dare turn on the radio. Silly, he knew, because it wasn’t like Ty would come outside. The restaurant always seemed busy, and Ty constantly moved from one table to the next, or headed to the kitchen.

  Around ten in the evening, Ty usually took a ten minute break. Vance knew, because he saw Ty take off his apron and head to what he assumed was the employee’s break room.

  “Look at me, reduced to a miserable stalker,” he muttered under his breath.

  Vance looked at the digital car clock. Nine in the evening. He had no reason to come here, but what else would he do? Remain in his cold office and bury himself in paperwork? That was the thing about being a workaholic. Eventually, he ran out of work to do.

  Spending his evening in his dark car seemed no different that brooding at home. Well, taking care of Coco altered his usual routine, but he was thankful for the extra company. Ty handed menus to two new diners sitting by the window and he swore, Ty suddenly looked right at him.

  Panicked, heart racing, Vance ducked his head. Any moment now, and he’d hear a sudden knock on the window glass and find Ty staring at him with shocked eyes. Then he’d really blow all his chances. If Ty found out what he was doing, well. If their positions had been reversed, he wouldn’t go out on a second date with a crazy bastard either.

  Ty couldn’t possibly see him, he told himself. Plus, he didn’t use the same car when he took Ty home, but a different one he seldom used, a black Volvo given to him by the company.

  “What am I doing?” he whispered, only to notice Coco had woken up. Those brown puppy eyes seemed to wonder the same thing, too.

  Vance didn’t know how long he stayed stooped like that, but eventually, he raised his head. Nothing. Ty smiled at the couple after jotting down their orders and walked away.

  Vance leaned his head against the wheel, closing his eyes. “I’m not doing this again. This will be my last time.” It sounded like an empty promise.

  Chapter Nine

  “I’ll see you tonight then, at the usual place,” Vance said, sounding dismissive.

  Malik narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. “What the hell?”

  “Lakeside restaurant,” Vance reminded his husband, not looking at Malik. He focused on fixing his tie in the mirror instead, not wanting another confrontation. The fewer words they exchanged, the better. Every day, Vance came home, exhausted from work. He didn’t need an emotionally draining argument with the man he supposedly wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Hell, he could barely be in the same room as Malik for five minutes.

  “I know. That’s where we go every fucking month to for our monthly dates.”

  Vance frowned. Was Malik looking for a fight? “You want to cancel?”

  “No.”

  Great. Were they back to monosyllabic responses. Malik knew he hated that. “Don’t be late.”

  Malik scowled. “I was five minutes late last month. You’re going to hold that over my head all the time?”

  “You lose track of time easily, that’s all. And you know I hate sitting alone at a table.”

  Malik snorted, and Vance mentally prepared himself for another jab. Every day started and ended like this, with them picking at each other’s wounds. One of the cons of knowing each other inside and out, Vance supposed.

  Maybe Malik sensed he wasn’t in the mood for another fight. “I’m heading off to work first,” Malik replied, his voice curt, as he exited the bedroom.

  Did he imagine the look of disappointment in Malik’s face? Vance let out a bitter laugh. What did it matter? No one could save their marriage. Both of them felt like fighters at either side of the ring, worn-out, exhausted, unwilling to fix what they’d broken.

  Well, maybe their marriage had been falling apart for some time, showing cracks, but Vance found out later that pretending nothing was wrong didn’t fix a damn thing.

  Moments later, Vance heard the front door slam shut.

  He lingered fifteen minutes longer than necessary to make sure Malik hadn’t forgotten anything before heading downstairs. He touched the phone in his pocket, wondering if he should cancel the reservation, but thought better of it.

  He walked out of the bedroom and took a slow turn around their apartment, remembering how happy and idealistic both of them had been when they’d bought the place. Memories, both good and bad, swamped him and he found himself running his hand over the furniture he and Malik picked together. He stopped in front of the ugly orange armchair Malik had fallen in love with at a yard sale, and thought of how they’d argued about it so much then ended up fucking on the damn thing more times than he could count.

  The weight in his chest grew heavier. Maybe it was sentimentality, or it had finally dawned on him that if he didn’t do something, he and Malik would start drifting apart. One of them had to fold, compromise, and make apologies. They couldn’t keep going like this.

  Tonight, Vance thought, he’d try to take the first step in fixing the clusterfuck that had become their marriage.

  ****

  Vance checked his watch again, just to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. Malik was an hour late. Silently fuming, he tapped his fingers on the table. A waiter appeared in his line of sight, probably intending to ask him if he was finally ready to order, but the guy must have seen his death glare and scuttled away.

  “Fuck, Malik. What point are you trying to prove?” Vance muttered under his breath, checking his phone again.

  No messages or calls. Vance sent the last text, reminding Malik not to be late. He knew Malik. His husband was an even worse workaholic than him. Malik had either stood him up deliberately or forgotten the time, consumed by some paperwork or another. Any initial intention to begin bridging the gap that had grown between them vanished.

  They’d made a promise, goddammit. To put aside everything and go on their one-month anniversary date. Office work could wait.

  If Malik had zero interest fixing their relationship, then why should he bother?

  The phone rang and he picked up instantly. “You better have a good reason,” he said, unable to control the fury in his voice.

  “Is this Mr. Carr?” an unfamiliar male voice asked on the other line.

  He frowned. “Yes, who is this?”

  “My name is Officer Rodriguez.” The man paused, the silence damning. Dread pushed away his initial anger. Vance didn’t want to hear the rest of what Rodriguez had to say, hoped in some way, that Rodriguez had gotten the wrong Mr. Carr. “I’m sorry to inform you that your husband was involved in a car accident—”

  Vance couldn’t hear the rest, couldn’t quite focus. The lights in the restaurant suddenly seemed so bright, the conversations around him, jarring to hear.

  “Mr. Carr, are you still there?”

  No, Vance wasn’t. His mind kept going to the events of that morning, how he’d insisted on Malik not being late. Malik had been stressed at work lately, had plenty of things on his mind. Usually, he was a careful driver, the guy you relied on after several beers at the bar to take you home.

  Don’t be late. He’d said those words, and while some people might see those simple words as harmless, Malik hadn’t.

  “Malik.” Vance finally found his voice. “How badly injured is he?”

  Vance didn’t realize he’d stood up and started for the restaurant’s doors, ignoring the stares the staff gave him. Screw them. Didn’t they have anything better to do?

  God. Vance’s mind tended to wander, when the worst smacked him in the face. That made him useless in emergencies. Malik had been the opposite. He performed better under pressure.

  “Mr. Carr, by the time I arrived on scene, the paramedics declared your husband dead on arrival.”

  V
ance dropped his phone. The weight in his chest grew unbearable, like a beast eager to claw its way out of his body. Vance fell to his knees, trousers ripped by the tiny rocks on the road. His lit cell phone screen stared back at him. Officer Rodriguez hadn’t cut the call yet.

  How could Malik be dead, when he’d only spoken to him that morning? Trembles ran up and down his body. Grief hovered in the wings, but another emotion took hold of him first. Vance threw back his head and screamed, howled like a wounded animal.

  Chapter Ten

  Vance woke up, completely drenched in sweat. He turned on his side and groaned at the sight of the empty bed. He imagined Ty lying next to him, sleeping soundly and making those adorable little snores. It would be easy for him to reach out and pull Ty into his arms. His warmth warded off old nightmares.

  God, he missed Ty. He kept imagining Ty during his worst and lonely nights.

  Vance let out a laugh. He was so pathetic. Ty turned out to be a not-stranger capable of looking right into his heart. He didn’t even flinch, seeing what a broken mess he really was. There was no reason why Ty should honor his promise to wait for Vance to fix himself. Ty was young, handsome, and could have any man he wanted. Why would he settle for a shell a of man like Vance?

  He knew he should stop thinking along those lines. His therapist Dr. Brooks told him to ward off negative thoughts and focus on positive ones instead, but Vance thought he had a free pass this time around, especially on the heels of that horrible night.

  He didn’t know how many times he’d relieved that old nightmare. The only peaceful sleep he’d experienced had been the night Ty slept over, a shield to ward off the dark.

  Vance still hadn’t told Dr. Brooks everything. Oh, Dr. Brooks knew about the accident, how he’d turned into a barely functioning human being, but he hadn’t mentioned Ty. If he did, Vance would need to explain his late-night jaunts.