Breaking the Habit

by Anne Berkeley

  I pondered the claim, perplexed. Seedy individuals?

  “It involved pornography.”

  “Oh…oh!” Dawning bloomed across my features. “My mother must’ve told Thomas about Carter’s little charade.” The smile on my face felt odd and inappropriate, but I couldn’t resist. I even managed to laugh, despite my mood. My mother was probably calling the out the reserves, trying to avoid exposure. Just the thought of her hysterics was worth enduring Carter’s kiss. I’d have to remember to thank him later. God, she was probably beside herself.

  “He thinks you’re doing it for the money,” Richard explained. “He seemed genuinely worried.”

  In a mercurial mood swing, the smile faded from my face, gravity once again ruling my features. “Really?” I objected, “Because it seems like he has you fooled. Tommy can smile pretty for the camera, while discreetly crushing the fingers of the hand he’s holding. He can make it look like you’re the happily married couple, pretending to press kisses on your cheek, while he’s really whispering how he’s going to beat you six ways till Sunday because you displeased him in some way. So, I apologize if I’m being belligerent, because while he’s playing you for a fool, he’s probably plotting his fucking revenge for shooting him and sticking his ass in jail.”

  “I’m sorry, Emily. Really, I am. Our clients aren’t always the quintessence of morality, but it’s a job. I have a family to take care of.”

  “Perhaps it’s time for you to strike out and open a firm of your own. You can choose your clients as you like.”

  We drove in silence, our sixty second drive stretching infinitely into a half hour, or what at least felt that long. By the time we reached the end of the driveway, I was calm enough to feel like an asshole for ruining the first half of Christmas. I was really regretting that I hadn’t insisted on staying home.

  Jess came out of the house. She waded through the snow in her houndstooth rubber boots and a warm, knit wrap around her shoulders. As Richard pulled to a stop, she tugged my door open and practically yanked me from the seat.

  “Nice to meet you, Em,” she said, while leading me through the snow, toward the house. “Let’s go drink a box of wine and eat some raw cookie dough. God knows, I sure can’t bake them worth a damn.”

  I think I liked Jess.

  “Is it true that Italian women like to cook when they’re upset or is that just an old myth?”

  “Myth. You’ll find us in the kitchen no matter how we’re feeling. We just like to feed people.”

  “Good, then you won’t mind feeding us. Carter said that you made some killer Fettuccini Alfredo back in Seattle.”

  “Um, sure?”

  “Did you not just hear me say I can’t bake cookies?” Jess laughed. “If I’m going to stuff and roast a turkey tomorrow, with all the trimmings, I don’t think that boiling some noodles for us tonight is much to ask.”

  I suspected that Jess was already sipping at the boxed wine, not that I minded making them dinner, but she was extraordinarily forward. Of course, she was Carter’s sister so I shouldn’t have been surprised in the slightest.

  “Oh, one last thing,” she said, stopping at the door. “Shane said to give you these as soon as you got back. He apologizes for screwing up.” Pushing open the door, out ran two black and white Great Dane pups, all legs and tails.

  “Oh, Lord.”

  Chapter 9

  Carter Strickland sat back in his chair and rubbed his belly, which looked no different from an hour earlier, though he downed a major portion of the pasta and garlic bread at dinner. “I don’t think I could possibly eat another bite, no exaggeration.”

  Mine, on the other hand, was distended, and testing the tensile strength of my jeans. I hadn’t eaten a lot of pasta, but I’d drunk a lot of wine. My button was carving a serious groove in my stomach, and threatening to pop at any moment.

  Needing to stretch my legs, I stood from my chair, almost tripping over the puppies, who were sitting on my feet in hopes that I might drop something edible.

  The nameless duo raised their heads and scrabbled to their feet, tails wagging exuberantly. I reached down and scratched their heads, watched them lean into my hand as I hit that spot under the collar. “What do ya say, you two?” I asked. “Wanna go outside?” The larger of the two perked up and bolted for the door. Unable to resist, the smaller followed his lead.

  “Let ‘em run,” Jess said. “They don’t need a leash.” They had enough property and then some. In the off chance they found something to chase, they’d grow either tired or bored long before they reached the street. “God knows, maybe they’ll actually sleep instead of eating stuff they shouldn’t.”

  “Like the crotch of your underwear?” Carter asked with a smirk.

  Jess aimed a scowl in his direction. “They were clean underwear, jerk. I had just taken them out of the dryer when the little thief ran off with them.”

  “Maybe you should try the sanitize cycle.”

  “Shut up.”

  “Just saying. They like strong smells.”

  “I’ll remember that the next time I see them gnawing on those cloven hooves you call feet.”

  “My feet are soft and supple.”

  Jess made a noise of derision. “And my vagina smells like cotton candy and roses.” She had much to drink, and she’d started much earlier.

  “It’s true!” Carter insisted. “I use the PedEgg!”

  Stepping outside, I left Jess and Carter to their conversation. The dogs took off through the snow, romping and chasing one another across the yard. Occasionally, they would notice the snow they were kicking up with their feet, and snap at that too, then stare confoundedly when they got only a mouthful of ice.

  By the corner of the house, Shane came into view. For a moment, he stood and watched the dogs play, and then headed into the carriage house. I supposed he was giving me space, or perhaps he had finally thrown in the towel.

  Why did that make me thick in the throat? Guilt. It had to be. That’s all it was. Guilt. I felt bad for him.

  Unfortunately, I was hurt, too. The few glasses of wine I drank did little to diffuse the effect his words had on me.

  The puppies on the other hand…

  He gave me puppies.

  What the fuck was I supposed to do with one, let alone two of them? My rental contract didn’t even allow pets. And what was I supposed to do with them when I went to Seattle? They wouldn’t exactly fit in a carry on. Was I supposed to stick them in some plastic crate in the cargo hold? It seemed inhumane.

  Behind me, the sliding door opened. Carter stepped out, a biscotto in one hand, a mug of coffee in the other. “Coffee, Emster?”

  “No, thank you." I actually wanted to sleep tonight. Besides, why ruin the buzz I had going from the wine.

  “Suit yourself.” Shrugging, he dipped his cookie into the mug, and bit off half in one bite. “Fo fut far fou foing fo fame fem?”

  “I smell the blood of an Englishman?”

  Swallowing his mouthful, he leered. “Funny.”

  “Kids always like it.” Turning, I watched the dogs. God knows, with their long legs, they covered the yard in seconds flat. What was I going to name them? “I don’t know. What do you think? You’ve been around them more than I have.”

  “They’re your dogs.”

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do with them, let alone name them.”

  “The male is dumb as dirt. He humps everything in sight.”

  “Wonderful.”

  “Humped my niece last night.”

  “Jesus.”

  “He don’t know what he’s doing. It’s like a dominance thing. His balls haven’t even dropped yet.”

  “You know a lot about dogs.”

  “Jess’s a vet.”

  “What about the girl?”

  “Oh, she’s the one you’ve gotta watch out for. She’s smarter than he is. She’s the mastermind. He’s just a copycat.”

  “How about Sassy?”

 
“Too cliché.”

  “Fiend.”

  “Mm, that might actually work. What about the male?”

  He said he was dumb… Dopey. Dummy. “Flake.”

  “Too feminine.”

  “I beg your pardon.”

  “Most people don’t refer to men as flakes. We’re fucking idiots, fucking morons or stupid asses, but women are flakes.”

  “That is so wrong by all accounts.”

  “It’s true. When have you ever heard a man called a flake?”

  Never, actually.

  “See?”

  The male in question took note of his tail, and began chasing it, spinning in circles while the female, Fiend, watched with uncertainty. “Rascal.”

  “Try yelling at him. Are you going to shout that at him when he’s running off after some squirrel?”

  I considered that. “Witless, or Foolish.”

  “Meh, they’re ok.”

  Well, he did eat Jess’s underwear and hump her daughter. “Stud…Wolf…Lothario…Rake—”

  “Rake! That’s it!”

  “Rake?”

  “Rake and Fiend sound bad ass. People hear you shout their names, and they’re not going to know whether they should shit their drawers or run for their lives.”

  “I’m hoping they’re behaved enough that I won’t need to shout.”

  “I hate to tell you, but they’ll only behave as well as you train them.”

  “If I can handle teaching five toddlers at a time, I think I can handle training these two a few basic obedience skills.” Had he never been around Levy for any length of time? You’d think the guy would give me a little credit.

  Rake, who had his nose jammed in Fiend’s rear end, decided to ‘dominate’ her, as Carter would call it. I’d say he was humping her. Incestuous little beast.

  “Here’s your chance now, Emster. Go show ‘em whose boss.”

  Catching Carter off guard, I let off a shrill whistle. Fiend perked up and came running, leaving Rake floundering in the snow. He quickly recovered—quicker than most human males would had you left him in the same condition—and dug in, racing to catch up to his much smarter sibling.

  “Damn,” Carter hissed, shaking the coffee he spilled from his hand. Steam curled through the air, vivid in the evening light.

  “Works on kids too. Stops them dead on the spot.”

  “Yeah, well, a little warning next time would be nice. That was fucking hot as balls.”

  “Oh, shit.” The two mongrels weren’t slowing down. They were out of hand. “No! No! No!” I curled away, fending myself from their paws. Fiend reached me first, bouncing off my right hip and throwing me off balance.

  “That’s it,” Carter urged them on. “Get her! What a good wittle doggy! Get her!”

  “Carter!” Rake reached me next, barreling into the fold of my legs. I went down like a rock, landing sideways in the snow. It poured into my clothing wherever there was even the smallest gap, and raised goose bumps across my skin. The shock stole the breath from my lungs. I didn’t have time to react, my attention focused on the two dogs attacking me. “Damn it! Down! Get down! No!”

  Behind me, Carter hooted with laughter.

  Rolling to my knees, I stuck my hand out, fending off lapping tongues and scrabbling paws. When Fiend’s nails came inches from my face, I grasped her neck and flipped her to her back. “No! I said, no!”

  Rake came next, trying to take advantage of my inattention. I did the same with him, holding him to the ground. “No! That’s bad!”

  “Damn, Em, you don’t mess around.”

  “Remember that, jerk face.”

  “Wow, hostile much?”

  “I’ve had a really bad day, and that was a really jerk thing to do.” Letting go of the puppies, I stood and brushed the snow from my clothing. My hands turned cold and numb. My hair was caked in snow, and every time I moved my head, it fell down the back of my shirt. “God, Carter, you can be such an asshole.”

  “I was just playing.”

  “You sicced my dogs on me.”

  “It was all in good fun.”

  “Until they’re one hundred and fifty pounds each, and they really hurt somebody.”

  “Chill, Emster. No need to have a cow.”

  Bending down, I grabbed a handful of snow and tossed it at him. He dodged to the side to avoid it. What was left of his coffee sloshed out the side of his mug and soaked his sleeve. “AAaarrggggg!”

  “Geez, Carter, don’t have a cow!” I taunted, a smile forming on my face. Carter quit nursing his burnt hand and glared down at me.

  “I just scalded the flesh from my wrist, for fuck’s sake!”

  “What happened to that hand-eye coordination?”

  “Oh, Emster, you’d better run, cause you’re about to find out.” Placing his mug on the patio table, he began stalking toward me. I started backing slowly away. Taking in his expression, I had no doubt he meant it. “I’ll give you till three.”

  “Come on, Carter.”

  “One…”

  “Carter!” A little whine slipped into my tone.

  “Two…”

  “God damn it!” Whirling, I bolted across the lawn toward the carriage house. Behind me, I heard Carter shout “Three.” The first snowball hit me square between the shoulders. Under the false impression that I was playing a game, the puppies nipped at my heels, tripping me. I was able to catch myself, but that’s when the second snowball hit my lower back, where my shirt had rose and left my skin exposed. For the millionth time in the past week, I fell down.

  Despite my prone position and the two fifty-pound puppies mauling my legs and heels, Carter continued to pelt me with solid, packed balls of snow.

  ♪♫♪♫

  As I stepped through the entry to the carriage house, Shane Richardson—who had been hammering on his practice set—took one look at me and fell still. He slid the earphones from his head, his Vic Firths clenched tightly in his grip.

  The puppies, Carter’s partners in crime, tucked their tails between their legs and hunted down an unassuming spot to lie down.

  Ignoring the tinny sound of music filtering through Shane’s headphones, and the unlit joint hanging from his bottom lip, I fumbled with my shoes, trying to pry them from my feet with my numb hands. I lost my balance for a moment, the rubber sole of my right boot squeaking against the slate tile floor. Huffing, I dropped my foot to the floor to regain my balance, and used the toe of my left foot to pry it loose. My sock came off with it, dangling from the mouth of the boot, caked with ice.

  “What happened?” Shane finally asked. He grabbed the hand towel from the loop of his jeans, using it to wipe the sweat from his chest.

  “Carter.” It was answer enough.

  “What did he do?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re bleeding.”

  I looked down at my shirt, found a few bright red drops staining the peak of my breast. “It’s not mine.”

  “Whose is it, then?”

  “Carter’s. I think I broke his nose.”

  “Did you? What the hell did he do?”

  “Threw snowballs at me. Let the dogs use me for a chew toy. Whitewashed my face. I have snow up my shirt and down my pants. It even went in my boots. Then to top it off, he kissed me. Jerk.”

  Shane laughed. I worried that he might take it badly, considering his present frame of mind, whatever that might be. But he laughed. The incident was generated by his own taunting anyhow. He planted the seed that I was Carter’s fated one.

  “You really think you broke his nose?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good.” Sliding the headphones back over his ears, he pinched the joint between his lips and fell back into the beat. He was obviously close to his breaking point. Part of me wished he would just light the thing. It was his way of coping. I could think of much worse methods to manage your emotions. Ironically, I think that knowledge hurt me worse than any strike Tommy had ever delivered.

 
Crossing the space, I walked clumsily in one boot, and stopped in front of him. Lost in his music, it took a minute for him to notice me.

  “I don’t think you’re nobody.”

  Lifting one earpiece from his ear, he said, “I’m sorry, what?”

  “I…I don’t think you’re nobody.”

  Awkwardly, we stood in silence, neither knowing what to say. I cleared my throat, twining my fingers together into an uncomfortable knot. “Do you really believe what you said?”

  “Which part?”

  “That Heaven doesn’t exist?”

  Shaking his head, he pushed his hair from his face. “I’m sorry, Emelia. It wasn’t a nice thing to say.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  Looking down at the sticks in his hands, he weighed his thoughts. When he raised his head again, and I saw the sorrow in his eyes, I knew the answer. “From experience, no.”

  Reaching up, I took the joint from his mouth. Shane produced a lighter from his pocket, without being asked. I lit it, took a long drag. Ignoring the urge to cough, I stared back at Shane with the same pity he was providing me.

  “Just because I have issues, doesn’t make you any less of a person,” I croaked. “If I do or don’t stay in Seattle, it won’t be a reflection on you in any way. It won’t be that you weren’t enough, or didn’t try hard enough.” I offered him back his roach. Shane shook his head, shook a cigarette from his pack.

  “Finish it.”

  “You sure?”

  “Positive.” Popping the cigarette between his lips, he struck the flint and lit it with a long drag, then slipped his headphones back over his ears. “Have to practice. Tate wants to perform this new song in Nampa on New Year’s.”

  “Nampa?” Tate had mentioned that he needed to conclude the tour, but he was waiting for the tour producer to book the dates with the venues.

  Once again, Shane pulled the speaker away from his ear. “ ‘Scuse?”

  “Nampa?”

  “We have to make up the last three shows from the tour. Tate wants to knock them out early, before Coop’s too big to travel.”

  “When did this happen?”