by Dixie Cash
Fred, her lab-Rottweiler mixed breed, and Waffle, an unknown mix of breeds, darted around, ducking behind tree trunks as if they were playing tag. Out in a corner of the yard, Sophie, Snow White and Dominique pecked for bugs while Christian Grey, her one-eyed rooster, pecked at Dominique. Pablo, her poor little jittery Chihuahua sat trembling beside her.
Sylvester, her tuxedo cat, sat on her opposite side, calmly bathing and grooming himself. The poor thing had been starved, losing his hair and only minutes away from being euthanized when Sandi rescued him. Now, after living in a safe environment and eating a diet of healthy food, handmade by Sandi herself, and a daily dose of vitamins, his coat was soft and glossy and he looked like a show cat.
From her shoulder, Jake watched the cat and cooed sweetly. “Pretty pussy. Pretty pussy.”
Sandi’s brow arched. She didn’t know if Jake’s words were directed at the cat because after all, Sylvester was a pretty cat. She sighed. She would never know what Jake meant, which probably was just as well.
Back inside the house, she tethered Jake to a perch she kept near the back door, then started to leave the room for her own bedroom. Jake made a haunting sound as if he were in agony. “Nooo. Don’t leave me, don’t leave me. Torture, torture. I’ll talk, I’ll talk.”
“You are not being tortured, Jake. I’ll be back in a minute.” She started for her bedroom again, shaking her head as she walked. She had to relocate Jake to a new home. No way could they share a house long-term. She didn’t have the time he required and he was worse than a nagging husband.
In the bedroom, she changed into her comfy jeans, a T-shirt and a pair of flip-flops, at the same time, watching the animals play from her bedroom window. She so longed for a place in the country and a few acres. Then the animals she already had would have more room and she could take on larger animals. A small city home was too crowded for as many animals as she had and Richard always complained about the smell.
Richard! Ohmygod! She was supposed to have returned his call hours ago. Oh, well, he could wait until later. She needed to go to Fiona’s house and quiz her about Nick Conway.
She left her house and crossed the front lawn to her neighbor’s, who was singing along with Michael Bublé. “Let me go hooome...”
“Fiona, child, leave the singing to Michael and gimme me some of what you’re drinking,” Sandi said.
“Done,” Fiona replied, reaching behind herself and producing another plastic cocktail glass. She tilted the pitcher and filled the glass to the top. “Oops, got it too full. Here, let me sip a little off the top.” She leaned and sucked deeply on the green froth, then thrust the glass to Sandi. “Here. Have a margarita, neighbor.”
“Uh, okay, thanks.” Sandi took the glass.
“How’s Jake?” Fiona asked.
“He’s fine. Why do you ask?”
“You know ol’ bubble-butt up the street? Jake whistled at her today and called her a sweet piece.”
Bubble-butt was the name Fiona had given to Stephanie Cummings, their cranky neighbor who constantly complained about Fiona’s partying and Sandi’s pets. Stephanie even sometimes called the cops when Fiona and her friends were especially loud.
When Sandi had taken in Sophie and Snow White, Stephanie had made an issue with the city council, but Sandi had pleaded for sympathy for the rescued homeless hen with a broken wing. Fortunately, Stephanie’s complaint had been dismissed. The adoption of Anastasia and Christian Grey a few days later brought on another confrontation. Christian Grey crowed loudly and repeatedly at five a.m. every morning without fail.
And now that he had been around for a while, Jake had picked up his crow. But Jake didn’t confine it to sunrise. He might crow at any time of day or night.
Sandi closed her eyes and shook her head. “I wish he wouldn’t call her names. If she can figure out what he’s saying, next thing you know, I’ll be going to a City Council meeting again.”
“I don’t get it. I don’t think he’s heard me call Stephanie “bubble-butt” more than two or three times.”
“I know, but you have to be cautious what you say around him. All he has to do is hear something one time and it becomes part of his lexicon.”
“Is he mimicking me? Or does he really know that Stephanie is overweight?” Fiona looked at her with a serious expression, her drink poised midair. “Do you think he knows what “overweight” is?”
Sandy chuckled and sipped her drink. “Your guess is good as mine. I’m constantly amazed at how fast he learns words and uses them in their correct context. We could almost have a conversation. Sometimes, if I absent-mindedly asked a question outloud, he answers.”
Fiona tilted her head. “I wonder if he’s really as smart as anyone else I know.”
“Maybe I’ll have to start closing the window,” Sandi mused, staring into her margarita. “I was just trying to air out his room a little and let him get some fresh air.” She sighed. “I’ve got to find him a good home. My house smells like a toilet.”
“Why don’t you keep him outside in that aviary thing you had built?”
“I can’t when I’m not home. I’m afraid someone will steal him and I’d never stop worrying about him.”
“If I didn’t work all time, I’d take him,” Fiona said. “Me and him would be good roommates. He could teach me a thing or two. I think he’s better edju—educated than I am.”
“I know what you mean. All the time I wonder if he’s smarter than I am. But don’t worry about it. I think my aunt down in Salt Lick is going to take him to give to her husband.”
“The one who’s a hair stylist? Like me?
“Right. Aunt Ed and her husband both are a little daffy, so Jake would fit right into their household.”
“Aww, that’s sweet,” Fiona slurred. “Two daffy people and a daffy bird.”
“Why are you home so early?” Sandi asked and sipped her drink.
“I scheduled my day light. I decided I work too hard. Don’t you think I work too hard? I needed some Me time, so here Me is, sitting on the front porch, smokin’ and drinkin’. Quality time. Yessiree. It's not what you do with your time that’s important, it’s the important things you do with your time.”
Sandi gave her the squint-eye. “What?”
Fiona’s brow scrunched into a frown. “Did I screw that up?”
Sandi laughed and shook her head and sipped more of the salty sour tequila mixture. “Be sure to give your car keys to me. You don’t need to be driving.”
“No worries, neighbor. But if you were a real friend you’d ask me for my cell phone. After a few drinks, I do a whole lot more damage with that damn thing than I do with a car. They should write tickets for calling when drinking. That would be a CWD or a CUI. Right?”
Sandi was about to agree when her friend said, “What bone do you have to pick with me?”
“Oooh, yeah,” Sandi said slowly, deliberately dragging out the moment. “I met a good-looking single man today and I find it hard to believe I’ve never heard you say a word about him.”
“Well, I do know them all. Slept with some of ’em, too. Who was it? Oh, God, don’t tell me. No, wait. Do tell me.”
Sandi leaned back against the porch support post. “Nick Conway is his name.”
Fiona sat straight up, coughing and sputtering and holding her glass level to keep from spilling it. Sandi waited several seconds for her to recapture her wind. “You okay? What is he, a criminal or something?”
“That was the last name I expected to hear you say. The absolute last. I’ve been trying to get a peek at that guy for six months. Where’d you see him?”
Sandi related the encounter at the Pampered Pooch and the cowboy who came in to see his puppy. “He was cold as ice,” she said in conclusion. “Never even looked at the little—”
“Did you check him out below the belt?” Fiona broke into a spasm of giggling.
Sandi gave her a look.
“His fly, I mean? Did you check it out?”
&nb
sp; “You’re drunk. I never check out a man’s fly.”
“Tell me exactly what he looked like. Don’t leave out anything.”
Sandi tilted her head, recalling. “Well, he’s definitely your type.”
“You mean breathing.”
“No, I mean rugged. You know, really manly. Tall. A good foot taller than you.”
“Who does he remind you of? Living or dead.”
“Umm, Chris Hemsworth.”
“God almighty. A Chris Hemsworth look-alike walking among us? And I haven’t met him?”
“How come you haven’t met him is what I want to know and how do you know about him?”
“All I know is from Sylvia Armbruster. For the past four months, every time she comes into the shop, it’s Nick this and Nick that. She’s head over heels, which, by the way, is her favorite position. I’ve asked her to bring him by the shop so I can meet him, but she won’t do it. She’s cowardly like that.”
“You’d think she’d want to show him off. How did she meet him?”
“How does Sylvia get to meet any man? She stands at the city limits and stops every car that’s got a male alone in it. She wants to be the first to check ’im out.”
“And that’s all you know about him, that he sees Sylvia and she’s crazy about him?”
“You know Sylvia’s mouth. I know absolutely everything about him, and I mean everything. I even know the size of his ding-dong. That’s why I asked you if you checked out his fly. Why do you think I’m dying to meet him? A guy who brings that much to the party? Well...what can I say?... Wait a minute. Why do you care? You’re taken.” She slashed the air with a hand. “Off the market.”
Sandi felt a flush crawl up her neck. “I’m not interested for myself. It’s uh, it’s that sweet little puppy. I’m worried about him going to a good home.”
Fiona leaned closer and laughed softly. “Why, Sandi Walker. Pretty boy Nick Conway’s got your juices flowing.”
She reared back and swallowed another swig of her margarita. “And that amps him up for me. I have just got to meet him.”
Sandi’s carnal juices had indeed flowed when she met Nick Conway, but the new and successful businesswoman Sandi Walker had no intention of delving into that fact. The last thing she needed in her new life was an inarticulate cowboy in a worn-out pickup truck who was probably being pursued by a string of willing women. She lifted her chin indignantly. “Are you implying that my juices don’t flow?”
Fiona tilted her head back and laughed and lost her balance, nearly overturning herself and her drink. She righted herself again. “Sandi you’re the nicest person I’ve ever known and I know you’ve been married and divorced and I’m sure ol’ Richard does something for you, but if what Sylvia says is true—and I gotta think it is ’cause she might be a lot of things but she’s not a liar and she’s bound to be an expert—then this guy is out of your league.”
One thing Sandi had observed about Fiona. When she was drunk, she talked without commas and periods.
Her inebriated friend hadn’t meant to hurt her feelings, but old insecurities weren’t buried so deeply in Sandi’s subconscious that she didn’t feel a sting. Losing two handsome and charming husbands to other women could do that, even if both of them had been underachieving dullards. Lesson learned the hard way: Relationships with good-looking men came with a price.
In terms of fidelity, she had lucked out when Richard Townsend had come along. He might not be the most handsome man she had ever met, might not have the most sparkling personality, but he wouldn’t even look at another woman.
After this conversation with Fiona, Sandi’s only hope for the sexy-looking Mr. Conway was that he wasn’t a dog abuser.
Chapter 5
Fiona’s cell phone warbled and she launched into an animated phone call. Sandi mouthed the words, “Gotta go.”
As she trekked from Fiona’s porch to her own, she finally returned Richard’s call. They made a plan for him to come by in an hour. She needed to shower, shave her legs and pretty herself up for the evening ahead. Lately, more often than not, an evening with Richard meant staying in, eating dinner, having sex and him departing early. He didn’t even stay over anymore. If she could find the time, she might worry about that. In truth, at the end of the day she was as exhausted as he was and she was happy to have him go home and sleep in his own bed.
She really couldn’t fault him for being worn out. As a criminal defense attorney, his time was not his own when a big trial was pending and in Midland, the current murder trial couldn’t get any bigger.
John Wilson and the crime he had committed stayed in her mind. Sandi understood criminals had a right to legal representation, but Richard approached his career as if it were a game in which the tally of wins and losses took precedence over all else. She had a hard time accepting that the man with whom she had an intimate relationship was exploring every possibility to set this Wilson creep free. Especially after the evil bastard had bragged about how killing the elderly woman had been as easy as swatting flies.
For Sandi and Richard to fall into heated debates about his profession wasn’t out of the ordinary. And with him coming over, she needed to shake those negative thoughts from her mind.
Reaching her house, she went to her spare bedroom and picked Jake off his perch, then proceeded outside. She sat down on her porch to watch her children play in the backyard. Another vision of a huge fenced area with acres of room scrolled through her mind. Someday, when her business became more profitable, she would have it. She just had to be patient.
Sudden tears welled in her eyes. She loved these defenseless, cast-off animals so much and she would protect them with the fierceness of a mama lion. Every one of them was defective in some way and if not for her giving them a place on the planet, all of them would now be gone. She had been their savior.
Suddenly, Jake flapped his wings and screamed, “Get that sonofabitch!”
Language from the sports bar, no doubt. “Jake! Watch your mouth ... er, beak.”
“Waffle! Waffle!” Jake squawked. “What the fuck?... What. The. Fuuuck?”
“Jake! You’re outside! You cannot talk like that outside the house.”
Sandi gave herself a mental eyeroll. God, had she lost it? He was a dumb bird.
“Bubble-butt, bubble-butt,” Jake squawked.
Sandi’s gaze swerved to her neighbor’s house. Sure enough, Stephanie Cummings was in her backyard watering her flowers. “Jake! Cut it out! I mean it! You’re going to get me in so much trouble.”
The silly parrot cocked his head to the side and studied her for a long moment, “Jake’s bad. Jake’s bad.” A soft garble came from his throat that sounded like a coo. “Kiss Jake. Kiss Jake.”
He always knew how to get out of trouble. “Oh, no, you don’t. I’m not letting you sweet talk me. It’s time for you to go inside. You’ve been ugly and I have to get ready for Richard.”
Jake shifted and squawked. “Aarwk! Dickhead! Dickhead!”
Richard’s name was the only word that prompted that particular euphemism from Jake. “You have stop calling Richard Dickhead. It hurts his feelings.”
Feelings? Crap. What had she just said? Sandi dropped her forehead against her fingers and shook her head. How was it possible that a human being’s feelings could be hurt by a bird? The question hanging in her mind, she carried Jake back inside, toward his bedroom.
As they neared the bedroom door, Jake flapped his wings and screeched. “No! No! Help! Help! Call nine-one-one! Nine-one-one!”
He never wanted to be put away. “You cannot have free rein in the house. You poop on everything. You’re a poopy bird.” She was in the process of tethering him back to his perch when he said, “Dickhead. Dickhead.”
Sandi hadn’t heard Richard come in, but since he was the only person Jake greeted with that particular salutation, she knew her fiancé was behind her. A laugh burst out. Laughter was an improper reward for Jake, but she couldn’t help it. She turned to fa
ce Richard with the moisture of mirth in her eyes.
Richard stood there with his eyelids narrowed. “I’m going to kill that fuckin’ turkey.” On a growl, he thrust his face toward Jake’s beak. “Turkey! Turkey!
Jake cocked his head and cooed and Sandi could almost believe he was smiling except that parrots couldn’t smile.
Richard straightened and gave her an accusing look. “Where did he learn a word like “dickhead”? And what’s more, what does he mean when he says it?”
Sandi suppressed her amusement. “I’m not sure about that one. He only says it when you’re around.”
“The sonofabitch hates me. He’d look good stuffed and mounted.”
“Call the cops. Call the cops.” Jake squawked.
“Now, don’t be mean, sweetie,” Sandi said to Richard. “You know Jake’s history. Life in a biker sports bar couldn’t have been an ideal environment for a talking parrot.”
“Biker sports bar? Have you thought about how dumb that sounds? Do bikers give a shit about sports?”
“I don’t know. I just think Jake was rarely around any people except rowdy drunk men. I’m teaching him new things. Listen to this.” Sandi turned her attention back to the parrot. “Jake, who does Sandi love? Come on, now. Tell me. Who does Sandi love?”
Jake walked back and forth on his perch, his head bobbing up and down, “Sandi loves Jake. Sandi loves Jake.”
“See?” she said to Richard. “That’s something new he’s learned.”
“Hey, Dickhead,” the bird piped.
“Put him in his cage and throw a blanket over it,” Richard said, sliding his arms around her waist. Her arms automatically went around his shoulders and their lips joined in a sweet kiss.
“Wanna fuck? Wanna fuck?” Jake said.
Unable to stop a guffaw, Sandi laughed against Richard’s mouth and pulled away.
His face flushed a deep crimson, Richard shook his head. “Sandi, dammit...”
She wiped tears from her eyes with a fingertip. “I think he heard someone say that when he lived in the bar. He understands things. I think he knows that when you come over, we sometimes have sex.”