Born to It

by Chelsea Camaron

  No furniture other than the bed he fucked me on and a nightstand really can be found. I go to the closet and find all his clothes either hanging on hangers, or tossed in a basket, while the dirty clothes are in a pile in the corner.

  He has three pairs of boots, one pair of sneakers, and a pair of flip-flops along the back wall of the closet. The bathroom has a toothbrush, toothpaste, the soap essentials but nothing extra, not even towels that hang for decoration. I use his toothbrush because I don’t have one here and I need to freshen up before I explore the house more.

  In the living room there is nothing. Not even a TV. So why did he talk about me stealing his television? I go to the kitchen where the plastic covering new appliance screens can be seen on the stove which is pristine along with the dishwasher and fridge. They are all upscale stainless steel and obviously brand new. Does he not eat here? Is he in the process of renovating? The more I move through his space the more I wonder about the man behind the house.

  In the fridge I find water and beer. No food of any kind.

  The other two bedrooms of the home are completely empty. It’s like the garage has everything of value, and he literally sleeps here.

  In the garage, I move to climb in the massive truck when out of the corner of my eye, I see it. Over where he had his motorcycle parked, I see a box. Inside the box is a seventy-inch television that is still sealed up. He hasn’t even opened it yet. Well, there is definitely some value in that but what would I do with it?

  Part of me wants to go put the box in the truck just to return it later.

  Only something tells me Blaine wouldn’t find the humor in my move. He doesn’t strike me as a man who jokes. Who am I kidding, I’ve never been funny or played a prank in my life. Realistically, I need to stop thinking of anything that involves Blaine. Even a joke isn’t something I have time for. I have a job to do and then I’m gone.

  Pulling away, I use the GPS on my phone to find my way from his house to my new home. We don’t live far apart which is both exhilarating and intimidating. I don’t know how I feel about him being so close. How can I resist the temptation to see him again? I need to focus on my job not the man down the street.

  Except after last night, I’m not sure how to focus on anything else.

  The converted rail cart from an old train station is rustic and set back off NC Highway 58 on a two-acre lot. The home was purchased under my alias with an all cash closing. The price agreed upon isn’t something that would spark red flags from anyone. Plus, Amanda Horton’s paper trail of history had her inherit money from her mother who died of cancer last year. For anyone who decides to dig into my background as Amanda, every I has been dotted, and t has been crossed. I have an iron-clad history.

  Climbing out of the truck, I make my way inside the tiny home. Stepping up the front steps I slide open the first set of two sliding glass doors. The sliding doors for getting freight into the train car are now sliding glass doors on both sides of the car. Inside, the space has a futon that serves as both a couch and a bed. To the right is the kitchenette and to the left is the bathroom complete with a claw foot tub. For what some call a tiny home, it has a full size bathroom.

  I find the small space inviting, warm, and quite comfortable. If this was somehow my real life, I could enjoy calling this my own. Too bad, this isn’t real. Temporary is the only word I could use and that is just sad.

  This is one assignment that will at least have some nice moments to myself along the way. It’s something to keep me going when I really want to sink into the dark places in my mind. Only Titus will find me in Hell so even if I somehow manage to die, he’ll still taunt me and own me in the afterlife.

  The one time after Sammi when I tried to end my life, he made sure to tell me all the ways he would serve me up to the Devil himself when he got to Hell behind me. While I’m not stupid enough to believe he would truly find me in Hell, I’m not comfortable with the things he would do to my body if I were to die or if I somehow wasn’t successful in ending it all. Since then, I’ve just focused on doing my assignments to buy my freedom.

  Since it’s a long term job I’m expected to fully immerse myself into this life. Might as well take what I can get while I can get it. Going to the hutch beside the futon, I grab the file along with checking my weapons.

  Noting everything is where it should be, I study the file once more. After a few minutes, I grab an apple before sitting down with my laptop and studying my new profession.

  In twenty-four hours I report to my job. I’ve never had a pet before in my entire life and I have a new job as an apprentice pet groomer and pet sitter. I need to memorize everything I can so I’m able to apply the concepts in my work. These people expect me to be trained and knowledgeable.

  As hard as it may be, I’m up for the challenge. It can’t turn out worse than the time I had to work as a licensed cosmetologist at a department store make-up counter at the mall. Trying to match colors and teach proper technique to other women when I prefer a more natural look on my own skin was a fucking nightmare. Granted in my line of work, changing my looks so often, I made it work for me and I will this job too.

  This is what I’m best at, making shit work. No matter the storm life throws at me, I endure and survive.

  For the next few hours, I scour over articles about dog breeds, cat grooming, and best practices for pet sitters. I memorize as many breed specific cuts and terminology as I can along with the safest way to approach aggressive dogs, timid dogs, and even the cat that wants nothing to do with a human.

  By the time I ready for bed, I’m exhausted, but mentally prepared for the task at hand.

  In the morning, I wake deliciously sore. Going to the small closet off the bathroom, I pull out the scrubs I’m expected to wear at Salty Dog Stylers and Sitters.

  Climbing in the truck, I’m reminded of Blaine and the situation I have with him. After work today, I need to go to the rental car place in Cedar Point and get a car. This way I can return his truck and focus my attention on my assignment. I can’t be tied to him like this. As much as he’s trying to help me … there truly is no help for me. I’m putting him in danger and that’s just not right when someone has been kind enough to help like he has.

  If Titus finds out about Blaine, he’ll kill him.

  It will be another play to take from me and keep me in line. I don’t get to have a life of my own, only the one he gives me. The one he permits, well, it doesn’t include a lover unless it’s him.

  I don’t need anymore blood on my hands, so to speak.

  Arriving at the Salty Dog, I’m early so I wait in the parking lot since the building is locked. When a woman steps out of a van with identical scrubs as mine, I get out of the truck and head to the door.

  She is my height, not as curvy, with hair that is teal and purple. She turns to me with a smile and wave as she unlocks the door.

  “You must be Amanda. Hi hun, I’m Blakely.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I reply sweetly.

  Chameleon. I’ve mastered the art of blending in. Get in unseen, get out without a trace. Match my surroundings until my time to strike. Never be recognized or seen by an outsider. It’s a set of skills I have acquired over time from both successes and failures alike. What I know in every job no matter the target, always been invisible as much as possible.

  “I’ll be training you today, and girl we have a full schedule.”

  “Perfect, I love to stay busy.”

  We walk in the front door where a counter is to the right for clients to sign in and a waiting area to the left is full of seats and dog beds and toys. The back wall has a hat rack where leashes hang.

  “Come over here and we’ll get you clocked in. Ms. Sherri already input you in the computer. Your generic login is one-two-three-four. After you put that in the system will prompt you to create your own four-digit login. Don’t forget it because it’s how you clock in and out. It’s also how you claim a job in the comp
uter so for example if you don’t login right and grab the right dog name and the client tips on a credit card it would be money you lost. And honey, none of us wanna lose money.”

  “That’s for sure,” I agree with her while going to the computer and getting my stuff set up.

  “Alright, once the door is open, we leave it open even though we have thirty minutes before our drop offs for grooming. What you’ll do is prop this door here while we take out our boarding clients. Family pets that are together can go out together, but never mix them up with the other dogs.”

  “Got it.”

  “Well, let’s get started. Grab a pooper scooper by the door and start with the kennel farthest from the door.”

  With those words we start.

  Client one is a Labradoodle that stands tall and proud as he runs around the enclosure in the back like it is the best day of his life. After a few minutes, he trots back inside to his kennel to eat like he knows just what to do. It certainly makes my job easier.

  Unlike my second round letting out the boarders, the sable German Shepard who is named Cleo, she is giving me a run for my money. Once she is free in the back dog run area, she took it as a pass to do anything she wants including digging up the fence area to try to break out of her prison yard. I want to laugh as the dog furiously digs, but I don’t have time as I have to let the other dogs do their business too. Knowing she couldn’t get out, I did my job taking the few other dogs out for potty breaks in the other runs. Finishing up, I have only minutes left until the first grooming client is scheduled to arrive so I have to get her in.

  First, I go outside with treats. She glances at me and the delicious goodies but is unfazed and continues to race around the space.

  “Momma Cleo, tell me your future,” I mutter joking with the dog about the fortune teller from the infomercials promising to read your future over the phone.

  The dog doesn’t miss a beat and continues racing around the yard like she’s trying to win a prize.

  Behind me I see a tennis ball on the ground. Dogs don’t really go for these things, do they? Deciding I have nothing to lose, I toss the ball.

  Cleo rushes for it jumping high on her back legs and catching the ball in her mouth. With all the excitement she’s had for the last thirty minutes she rushes towards me full speed.

  I panic.

  I freeze.

  This dog is going to run me over and I don’t move.

  Except just before she reaches me she skids to a halt. With her tongue hanging out behind the ball to the side, I find myself smiling as I remove the ball easily from her mouth and toss it again.

  She bolts after the toy and quickly retrieves it before returning to me.

  Over and over we do this. I get lost with Cleo into the morning.

  Blakely comes out the back door drawing my attention. “She’s good at consuming everyone she comes in contact with.”

  I nod realizing it’s the first day of my new job and I lost myself in a dog. I’m off my game. I blame Blaine.

  “Sorry, I got lost playing fetch.”

  “No worries, honey. We’ve all done it since Cleo showed up.”

  I raise my eyebrow as Cleo comes to a stop sitting perfectly at my side.

  “She’s a stray. She popped up about a month ago. We’re all in love with her. So we feed her, take turns playing with her. At first we did it waiting for her family to show up. Except with each passing day no one has come to claim her.”

  I study the dog feeling connected to her. I know what it is to be alone even in a room full of people. “She’s not very old,” I say noting the size of her body and her paws and head in comparison. She definitely will fill out much larger which is saying a lot because she is already a big dog.

  “The vet assesses her around ten months so she’s still got a lot of puppy in her.”

  Reaching down, I rub behind her ears. “Well Cleo, we gotta get to work.”

  I step towards the building and the dog I originally couldn’t get inside falls right in behind me like this is our plan all along.

  The first grooming client for the day is a small Teacup Yorkie named Sparky. I wash the little thing as he trembles in my arms tugging at my heart strings. He whines and I hold him close. Quickly he settles and I find it soothes my soul too. I finish up with his bath before Blakely takes over to trim his signature skirt and beard that the breed is recognized for.

  Making it through the process with him and I didn’t get bitten, I call that a win. The next few hours, I wash one dog to the next, loving on all the fur-babies that come in.

  Blakely and I fall into a routine and before I know it the day is done.

  Going out to the truck, I sigh feeling refreshed. Is this why people love their pets so much? Is this why their loss is often referenced like losing a family member? I never understood it before today.

  This assignment is making me soft.

  I look around the Chevy. Maybe it’s the man who I let in that’s suddenly got me looking at life differently.

  I need to shake it off.

  Every single thought of a life any different than the one I know must vanish because it won’t ever be my reality.

  Unlike Cleo who holds onto hope of freedom from that backyard pin, I don’t get that luxury. I can simply enjoy my time with her while I have it. If all goes well for my new four-legged friend then she will find a forever home before I have to part ways with her.

  I may not get my happily ever after, but I can dream of one for Cleo.

  Chapter Six

  Blaine

  One Week Later

  The heart of a lion never gives in and never gives up.

  Tick.

  Tick.

  Boom.

  I take off down Stella Road, shooting over the two lane bridge that moves into a curve within an eighth of a mile of coming off the bridge. It’s a fun road in a car, an amazing ride on a motorcycle. The car pushes harder as my foot rests on the gas pedal.

  It’s flying and I’m enjoying the ride. I could get lost for hours on an open road with a smooth ride, and I have plenty of times before.

  This fox body Mustang has power much like her owner.

  The car hugs the curves and handles perfectly for taking such a hit to the wall just a week ago.

  While I was gone Red stepped in and did hours of work to restore the damaged parts. Karma and I got back from the run two days ago. I didn’t catch hell from my dad for being late, instead I got the side eye and off the hook. It wasn’t because he didn’t want to punish me it’s that he was too busy to deal with it when we got back. I’m sure the next sermon he calls in the cave, the meetings we have for patched brothers only, I’ll get reprimanded or dished out some bullshit job like cleaning the bathrooms after a party. I damn sure can’t be late again because it won’t matter how busy he is, I’ll catch Hell. He won’t accept the same mistake twice.

  It’s been a week since I’ve seen Fox. We both have been working so our schedules haven’t aligned. We have talked and text when the time has allowed. She kept my truck though and hasn’t bailed so maybe she is on the up and up.

  I watched the cameras in my house and the broad didn’t even go snooping. Sure, she walked around the house and checked stuff out. She didn’t do the crazy open every single cabinet and lift the mattresses stuff I imagine a lot of women would do. Yes, we all have cameras in our houses, on the compound, and in each of our businesses. It’s a Hellion standard and our guy Swift monitors all of it.

  I could see her move around the place obviously checking it out, all from the convenience of my smart phone. She didn’t open cabinets in the kitchen or the garage, which really does surprise me. I don’t know anyone who left alone wouldn’t have opened every drawer and cabinet to learn something about the man. She walked around my house, looked in every room. Maybe she wasn’t impressed, who knows.

  Sure, she wouldn’t have found anything. I knew it before I ever considere
d bringing her home. A man knows what he has and where the valuables are.

  The house was my grandfather’s. He left it to my mother who gave it to me. The only things that have changed have been done by my mother. She felt the kitchen needed an update and set about doing it.

  I don’t give a damn about a kitchen. I don’t fucking cook. Truth be told, I don’t give a fuck about the house except the memories contained in its walls. My father swears when I find the right woman my thoughts on home will change. For now, this is me and the house is just a place to shit, shower, and sleep.

  The garage, that’s a different story. It is my only concern and Roundman, well he didn’t play around when he came to his cars and bikes. The garage is my paradise. Which she didn’t snoop around in there either or she would have found my gun safe that also has cash. If she had opened the drawers to the tool boxes she would find weapons, cash, alias set ups, and more. Granted I keep the shit locked, but if she knew how to pick a lock she could have gotten into some of it. Except she didn’t.

  While I find it a bit unnerving she didn’t try to figure me out, I also find it refreshing that maybe she is as innocent as she seems.

  In my world, that certainly doesn’t happen often.

  While I’m drawn to the woman, I want to know more and I want that information to come from her, not me digging it up through my resources. I want her to feel comfortable enough to share her life, her past with me on her own.

  Except it’s not going down like that.

  She’s not giving me anything.

  Granted, we haven’t had time together, but tonight that changes. I left her my number before I took the run. We’ve text a few times, talked a couple of times, and managed to work out plans to meet in an hour. She doesn’t know her car is ready. She thinks she’s coming for dinner, which is true but I had Red put in the extra time to get this shit done. Since I got back, I have put in all my extra time into the little details leading to the finished product today.