Swagger

by Liz Lincoln

  “No,” Bree said. “I shouldn’t. But I don’t really have a choice.”

  “I’ll help you,” Kevin said. “I obviously don’t know your experiment as well as Anna, but I can make the time. And I’m sure I know it as well as Bryant.”

  “Are you sure?” Bree asked. “You shouldn’t have to do that.”

  Kevin shrugged. “And you shouldn’t have to be treated the way Bryant treats you. And yet, here we are.”

  “Thank you.” The dark spots in Bree’s mind started rolling backward, like storm clouds receding. She could almost take a full breath again. She lowered her head and took another deep inhalation of the oils. She got a little too close to the bottle, and the scent burned her nostrils. But that was okay. Another thing to keep her grounded.

  “Who else is on your committee?” Reina asked. “Maybe one of them could help you.”

  “Anyone who particularly doesn’t get along with Bryant?” Tomás added. “Who might at least be sympathetic if you explained to them why he isn’t helping, even if you’re not going to formally report him?”

  “Tomás, as my buddy Elsa the ice queen says, ‘let it go,’ and don’t bring it up anymore,” Reina said in a singsong voice, to the tune of the popular Disney song.

  Tomás held his hands up in surrender. “Just trying to help.”

  Bree ignored their bickering. “Jerry Tompkins worked under Gina Goldberg at MIT for his postdoc. And he advises Denise, so he obviously doesn’t feel the same way as Bryant about women in the field. He’s on my committee. I’ll talk to him.”

  She reached for a pen and a Post-it note and made a note to email Jerry.

  Reina put her hand over Bree’s and squeezed. “You feel better?”

  Bree put her other hand on top of Reina’s and squeezed back. “I do. Thank you.” Concrete solutions helped. She gave Tomás and Kevin a smile to let them know her thanks included them as well.

  From her desk, Bree’s phone dinged with a new text message. She glanced over to see Marcus’ name on her screen. Immediately everything inside her felt a little warmer, chasing out the chill of anxiety.

  Reina took her hand back and gave Bree a gentle shove. “You should probably check that. Bet it’ll make you feel even better.”

  Bree’s cheeks went hot. “Hush.” Nevertheless, she reached for her phone.

  “Email me your dissertation so far. I’ll read it over the next week and get you some feedback,” Kevin said.

  Nodding, Bree added the task to her Post-it. Then, because she needed to not think about physics for a few minutes, she read her message from Marcus.

  Chapter 10

  Bree was starving, and she was so behind on everything there were no groceries in the house to make dinner. No wonder Reina had spent the weekend at Tomás’ and was spending tonight there too.

  Bree couldn’t even run to the grocery store, because her car was staying overnight in the shop getting a new fan belt. Which was going to cost a pretty penny. Which meant she had no money for takeout. But unless she wanted to compose a dinner of dry, stale Cheerios, mayonnaise, ketchup, and one pickle in a full jar of juice, she had no choice. She was even out of Doritos.

  This was why credit cards existed.

  As she pulled out her phone, Diablo wandered into the kitchen, stared at her, and let out the longest, most pitiful meow she’d ever heard from him.

  “What’s wrong, buddy?” she asked as she pulled up the number for her favorite pizza place. They always had good specials going and gave a student discount. At least she’d have leftovers to take to work tomorrow.

  Diablo answered with another mournful sound. He practically threw himself against her leg. Which wasn’t normal behavior for him.

  As she spoke with the pizza place, Diablo continued to yowl. By the time she hung up, he sounded like he was in pure agony.

  Bree sat down on the floor next to him and scratched his fuzzy white chin. “What’s up, big guy?”

  Diablo hauled himself onto her lap, flopped onto his back, and presented his belly to her. “Meowwww.”

  Now Bree was worried. Diablo had never been a lap cat. This wasn’t like him at all. He wasn’t much of a talker, except when he wanted to be fed or go outside. But this time of year, he seemed to understand he was better off staying in. The November chill did not agree with his delicate feline sensibilities.

  And it wasn’t time for his next feeding yet. Sure, sometimes he begged early, but not like this.

  Shit.

  Advisor who hated her, dissertation to finish with only the help of a postdoc, family trying to dictate her career, job interviews on the horizon that she needed to prepare for, car repair she couldn’t afford, no time to grocery shop, pizza delivery she couldn’t afford, and now a potentially sick cat.

  Fuck my life.

  Trying to figure out what to do, she idly scratched Diablo’s belly. Rather than kicking at her with his hind legs as he usually did when she touched him there, he let out the loudest sound she’d ever heard from him—what amounted to a cat yell.

  Okay, now she was really worried.

  Sometimes if she talked to him in the right tone of voice, he would lead her to what he wanted. Maybe his litter box was full? Or he’d somehow locked his water bowl in a closet? Sure, that could happen.

  She lifted the cat off her lap and rolled to her feet. “Show me what’s wrong, buddy,” she said in the tone she used only for him. “Come on, D. Show me.”

  Diablo started for the door, looked back at her, then moved on again. Meowing pitifully the entire time, he led Bree out of the kitchen, continuing to check every few steps that she was still with him. As she followed, she talked in her cat tone, encouraging him.

  Diablo led her to the back hall, to where his litter box sat outside the bathroom. She’d just cleaned it that morning, so that shouldn’t be the problem. Cats were picky, but he’d never been quite that picky.

  The cat climbed into the litter box, did a kitty squat like he was going to pee, and stood there. And stood there. And…stood there.

  He looked at her, howled, scratched at the litter a little, then got out of the box. He came to her, heaved himself against her leg, then flopped down onto the floor and yowled again.

  Shit. Shit shit shit.

  Bree pressed her palms into her eyes. She knew cats, especially older cats, frequently had kidney and bladder problems. He probably had a bladder infection and was in pain. He was, after all, thirteen years old. Which was past feline middle age.

  Could she let him go until morning when the vet was open?

  “Merrrrroooow meowwww meoooow.” Diablo looked up at her, his little face seeming to beg her to help him. Or maybe she was projecting that onto him.

  “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry.” She bent down and scratched his head. So much for looking over the comments Kevin had sent about her dissertation.

  Bree headed for the couch, Diablo following, continuing to vocalize his misery. She turned on the TV for background noise and company, then got out her phone and looked up the number for a twenty-four-hour emergency vet. Of course the closest one was a good twenty-minute drive.

  Drive. Shit. How was she going to take him anywhere if she didn’t have a car?

  Okay, she would call the vet first and see if there was anything she could do for him until morning, when Tomás would pick her up and take her to get her car. Then she could take Diablo to the vet.

  She dialed the number for the office.

  “Hello? We Care Animal Hospital. How can I help you?” answered a tired-sounding woman.

  Bree quickly explained Diablo’s symptoms, including how he’d climbed into his litter box and done nothing.

  “He needs to be seen right away,” the woman said, no longer sounding tired. Her voice took on an urgent quality Bree didn’t like.

  “It can’t wait until morning? I…my car’s in the shop, and I won’t get it back until tomorrow morning.” She could call Tomás. Or Kevin, or Eric. Surely one of the
m could drive her and Diablo.

  “What you describe sounds like he has a blocked ureter,” the woman on the phone explained. “That’s very serious. The block can cause the urethra to burst, which can be fatal.”

  Wait, what? “Fatal, as in dead?” Brilliant. As if there was another kind of fatal.

  “Yes, ma’am,” the woman said with infinite patience. “I suggest you get him here right away.”

  “Okay, I’ll have to call around to find a ride.” Bree rubbed her fingers over her eyebrows, trying to ease some of the tension there. “Thank you.”

  She hung up and immediately dialed Reina. The phone rang four times, then went to voicemail. Calling Tomás yielded the same result. Dammit, they were probably off having sex and ignoring their phones. Her cat was going to die because her friends were getting laid.

  Voicemail on Eric’s phone too. Where were these people? She was listening to Kevin’s phone ring when the doorbell also rang. What the hell was that?

  Oh, right, her pizza.

  She hung up on Kevin’s voicemail and hurried to the door to get her food, even though she was no longer hungry.

  “What’s that weird noise?” the pizza guy asked as she signed her credit card slip.

  Bree handed him the paper and his pen. “Sick cat. He’s going to drive me nuts.”

  The guy chuckled. “Hope he feels better. You have a good night.”

  Maybe the pizza guy could give her a ride.

  Yeah, that was a brilliant idea. Because he wouldn’t think it was totally creepy if she asked him for a ride. And he wasn’t in the middle of working a shift.

  But she needed to find someone soon. When she went into crisis mode, she could usually hold her anxiety at bay while she problem solved. But any minute, the situation was going to start sinking into her brain, and when that happened, the anxiety would creep in and her thoughts would go dark around the edges. Even if she didn’t have a panic attack right away, the anxiety would lurk, ever present, until she could either beat it back or the attack overwhelmed her coping skills.

  She couldn’t let that happen. She didn’t have time for an attack, which occasionally lasted hours, and she needed all her energy to focus on helping Diablo. She didn’t have it to spare for fighting her own brain.

  She took the pizza to the kitchen and tossed it onto the counter. She should probably eat, but she’d lost her appetite. Still, as long as she was hunting for a ride, she might as well force down a few slices. She put two slices on a plate, then took it back to the living room and sat down next to Diablo. She scratched behind his ears and he gave his first normal meow of the evening.

  He followed it up with another of his pitiful yowls.

  “I’m trying, bud. I promise.” But so far, she was failing.

  Who else could she call?

  Before anyone came to mind, the phone rang from her pocket, so she pulled it out to see Kevin’s name.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey. Saw you called.” He sounded far away, like he was in a tunnel.

  “Yeah, I have sort of an emergency, and I need a ride.”

  “Are you okay?” Kevin asked immediately.

  “Yeah, no, I’m fine. It’s the cat. The vet said he needs to be seen right away.”

  “Oh shit, I’m sorry. I’m working a shift at the lab.” As part of his research, Kevin had to monitor an experiment in one of Bryant’s labs. The computer took all the data, but someone had to babysit the computer at all times, just in case something went wrong.

  “That’s right, I forgot.” So much for that. He’d be on shift until 4 A.M. At which point it might be too late for Diablo.

  Her chest squeezed at that idea. The first fingers of dark panic tickled into her brain.

  No, she was not going there.

  “Tomás or Eric can’t take you?” Kevin asked.

  “No one is answering their phone tonight,” Bree said.

  “What about your football buddy? Can’t he take you?” Kevin asked, teasing heavy in his tone.

  “Marcus? Yeah, I’m sure he has nothing better to do.” She hadn’t even thought of him. Would he?

  No, it was ridiculous. Just because he wanted to sleep with her, and just because they had a standing lunch date that wasn’t a date, didn’t mean he would want to take her sick cat to the emergency vet.

  “I better go. I need to find someone who can drive me. Hell, maybe I’ll take the bus.”

  “There’s always Uber,” Kevin said.

  Sure, because on top of all the other things freaking her out, she needed the added worry of getting a ride with a potential rapist or serial killer. Then again, it was looking like that might be her only choice.

  “Yeah, I’ll probably have to do that. Thanks anyway.”

  “Text me later, let me know what’s up.”

  Bree ended the call and stared at her phone, trying to decide.

  Marcus? Or Uber?

  She really hated taking Uber. Especially alone.

  But Marcus was probably busy. Monday wasn’t a wild night or anything, but he did own Bubble, and, you know, have a life.

  Diablo let out his most pitiful yowl yet.

  Shit. Shit. Shit. There wasn’t anyone else to call. If she didn’t ask Marcus, it was down to Uber or doing something drastic, like calling Dr. Bryant. She’d probably let Diablo die before she asked Bryant for a favor. And, well, a potential serial killer was definitely better than calling her advisor.

  Calling Marcus was no big deal. Why wouldn’t an NFL star want to chauffeur his friend and her cat to the vet? Athletes were into charity.

  “Marrrroooowwwwrrrroooowwww.”

  “Fine. I’m calling,” she told him as she pulled up Marcus’ number on her phone.

  “Marrrrooowwwrwrwrwwww.”

  “Hey, Bree. What’s up?”

  Jesus, his voice was even sexier right in her ear. They’d never actually talked on the phone before, just texted. “Hey, Marcus. You busy?”

  “This a new service the school provides? Check to see if students are staying on top of their homework?” She could hear the teasing in his voice. “I’m finishing up my geology assignment, but I promise, physics is next, after I take a break to do a few PT exercises.”

  “I actually need a huge favor. Like, actual life or death.” As soon as she spoke, she regretted the words. Way to be a drama queen.

  “Oh shit. Anything. What’s wrong, whaddaya need?” His voice was instantly serious.

  “I mean, it’s not my life. Not a person’s. My cat. It’s my cat. His life.”

  “Mrrrrowowowoworowwww.”

  “He sounds miserable.”

  “Yeah. His, uh, his vet thinks his urethra is blocked.”

  “You can’t see it, but I’m wincing. I’d probably be making about the same sound.”

  “Even better, if it’s not treated soon, bad things can happen. Like his bladder exploding.”

  “Shit. Bree, that sucks.” He cleared his throat.

  Bree was painfully aware of the awkward situation she’d created.

  “How can I help?”

  “My car is in the shop, and Reina’s at Tomás’ and neither of them is answering, and I can’t find anyone else who can drive me. And I’m pretty sure 911 won’t come for a cat. But it just occurred to me, I can get an Uber. So never mind. I’m sorry I bothered you.” She affected a mock-stern tone. “Get to that physics homework, young man. I’ll see—”

  “Bree!”

  She paused to pull in a deep breath. She could ignore the panic. She didn’t have to give in to the darkness. “Yeah?”

  “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  “Are you sure?” Relief flooded through her, strong enough to make her shake.

  “How am I gonna worry about the difference between stalactites and stalagmites and let your cat die? Of course I’m sure. I’ll see you soon.”

  *

  —

  Bree hadn’t stopped pacing the tiny exam room since the pink
-haired tech let them in. She’d let Diablo out of his carrier, and he’d promptly jumped to the floor and slunk under the stainless steel table. He was now huddled as far back in the corner as he could get, making that awful, pitiful howling sound.

  Of course, if something was messed up in his junk, Marcus would probably howl like that too.

  His bigger concern, however, was Bree. She looked pale—almost literally white—and frantic and couldn’t stop moving. Part of him expected her to sit and start rocking. He wanted to pull her down next to him on the uncomfortable bench, hold her hands, and tell her she didn’t need to worry.

  Except he didn’t know that. And that might not be what she needed.

  “Bree?” he said gently, not wanting to startle her.

  She swung to face him. “Yeah?” Her eyes were wide and a little wild.

  “Is there anything I can do to help? Something to help you calm down? You seem…” He struggled for the right word. “Tense?”

  “I don’t know.” She let out a huge breath. “I just want someone to come in and get him. Tell me what’s wrong. So we can fix it. And I can stop worrying.”

  Marcus got up and walked to her. He rubbed his hands up and down her arms, trying to ease some of the tension he could see. “Someone will be here soon. I’m sure it’s just like a people emergency room. They have to triage.”

  “But the woman on the phone said…” She stepped into him and rested her head on his shoulder, turning her face into his neck.

  Marcus swallowed a groan. It was torture holding her close like this, but no force on earth could have stopped him from putting his arms around her. And dammit, if it was the only time he got to, he was going to enjoy the feel of her breath on his neck. The feel of her body pressed to his.

  “Come sit with me,” he said, walking them backward toward the bench. He gently tugged her down with him, and she slid into his side, letting him keep his arm around her, her head still tilted to the side, resting on his shoulder.

  He wanted to say something to make her feel better. But he knew the only thing that could was the vet coming in and taking care of her cat. So they sat in silence, except for Diablo’s wails. Poor little dude. Marcus resisted the urge to cross his legs at the thought of what the cat was suffering.