by Kaje Harper
She wagged her tail harder, and her ears came up a bit.
“Go home,” I told her. But not harshly, because I’d be leaving home too if I was her. Poor bitch. “Go on back.”
She wagged until her butt wriggled.
“Dammit, dog, shoo!” I waved at her. “Go on. It’s too cold for you to be out.” She’d been outside when I walked by, but hopefully just to do her business. She didn’t look too bad. He must be taking some care of her.
At my wave, she’d flinched and cowered, but when I lowered my hand, her tail-wag resumed.
“Stupid dog, go home.” I started walking again. She’d probably have some limit where she’d stop following. It was cold as a witch’s tit out. I stuffed my hands in my pockets and strode faster.
The sound of paws on the snow followed me.
I picked up the pace to a jog. Might help me keep warm.
She sped up too, until she was trotting along at my knee. For block after block, she kept pace with me. The ground was icy and I didn’t dare run all out. Anyway, I knew from experience you couldn’t outrun a dog. “Dumb bitch,” I grumped at her. She looked up, doing that laughing, panting thing. When I slowed down, she stayed right by me.
I stopped and bent over. Her fur was chilly under my fingers, but her ears were warm. “Listen you, I don’t want to be the one to drag you back to him.” God, I don’t want to.
I was headed to the diner to get a coffee. No mutts allowed. Maybe I could take her to the pound and tell them I found her running loose. He’d still get her back eventually, though. Might cost him something. Which would make him madder and meaner. Fuck! “What am I supposed to do with you?”
She sat and raised a front paw. She had little white tips on the ends of her toes. I wondered if she’d had another home before him. I couldn’t see Shenman teaching a dog to shake.
“Don’t do that. You’re his dog. I don’t even have a place to live.”
She waved her paw at me until finally I shook it.
“Okay, you’re a good girl. I don’t— shit!”
A car pulled up alongside us and passed slowly. Sheriff. I couldn’t make out Conyers in the driver’s seat but I froze, willing it to pass by. I ducked my head, tried to hide my face, as it pulled onto the shoulder. Slowed. Stopped. Shit. Fuck! Conyers was a fat old fuck, and I could outrun him, but I didn’t want to start my second day home running from the cops. Anyway, I’d done my time. Full time and no parole. I was out and free and clear, and owing nothing to no one. I squared my shoulders, turned toward the cop car, and waited.
After a few seconds the door opened, but the tall woman who got out wasn’t Conyers. My breath left my chest in a whoosh. None of his deputies had it in for me like Conyers did. I didn’t even recognize this one. She settled her hat on her head, and came toward me. “Good morning.”
“Cold, though,” I said, like a good citizen with nothing to hide.
“It is that.” She looked down at the pit bull. “That your dog?”
“Nope. She keeps following me.”
“Really? I had a call from a guy. Said a guy named Donatello Kagan was back in town and stole his dog.”
That old fuck! “I didn’t steal her. He kicked her and she ran off.”
“Ah.” She grimaced, but didn’t seem surprised. Probably she knew about Shenman, if she’d been on the job long. One day he’d either kill his wife or she’d finally press charges, but for as long as I’d lived there, the cops had come and gone, and done nothing. “So why did he tell me your name, like it should mean something?”
I shrugged. If she didn’t recognize me, I wasn’t sharing. “He knew me years back. I used to ring his doorbell and run.”
“But this time you didn’t steal his dog?”
“You see any leash?” I pointed at the dog, who wagged her tail and leaned against my leg, the dumb bitch. “You see any rope? How am I stealing her?”
“I admit, that’s a bit of a puzzle.”
“If you want to take her back, I’ll be on my way.” I felt like a traitor, but it was about survival. “She’s friendly.”
“How about if you bring her. You two can ride in the back, and we’ll go see what’s what.”
I stepped back. “Are you arresting me?” Maybe she did know my name.
“Why would I do that if you’re not stealing? I could use a hand with her. Don’t want her sliding around loose in the back of the car.”
“What would the sheriff think about you giving rides to lost dogs?”
She frowned at me, suddenly looking a lot tougher. “I am the sheriff.”
“Fuck! Not Conyers?” I wished the words back the moment they left my lips, but she just shook her head.
“Sheriff Conyers retired two years ago. You didn’t know that?”
“I’ve been out of town.” My heart was doing the can-can against my ribs. Yes! Yay! Not that he probably didn’t still have some clout, even in retirement, but not like it was. “You seriously just want me to help with the dog?”
“She can’t run loose. If he wants her back, he can take better care of her.” Her tone had a sharp bite, and I suddenly wanted to see her go head to head with Shenman.
“Okay. I guess I can bring her.”
“Thanks.” She gestured. “Will she get in for you, you think?”
“Who knows?” But when she opened the door and I patted the hard seat, the dog only hesitated a moment before jumping in obediently, her claws scrabbling on the smooth surface. I slid in beside her. My breath jerked when the sheriff slammed the door behind us. There’s no handle inside. We’re trapped! I did the deep breathing thing that a volunteer taught us one time. Anxiety-reduction breathing. In. Out. In. Out.
The sheriff got in the front and used her radio to call in. Then she glanced over her shoulder at me. “You two okay back there? Buckle up.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I ducked my head in reflex, looking down.
“Right, hang onto her while I turn around.”
She turned on her flashers to make a three-point turn, while a couple of cars stopped for us. I held my breath and bent my face over the dog’s shoulder, hiding behind her. God, don’t let anyone recognize me in here. Once we were reversed and heading back, she switched the lights off. “Should only be a minute.”
“Okay.”
“Can you check her over. Is she hurt?”
“Dunno.” The dog was half in my lap, muddy paws all over my jeans. I ruffled her fur, but didn’t see any bruises. When I pressed over her ribs where I thought he’d connected, she flinched but didn’t whine. “Can’t tell.”
“She have a rabies tag or license?”
The dog wore a thin, spiked collar, with some kind of tag. I twisted it around and peered at it. “Rabies, yeah, says 2013-2014.”
“Expired. Huh.”
Surprise. It was petty of me to hope there was a fine for that.
A minute later, we turned in at the corner of Shenman’s place. She parked, and told me to wait a moment. I guess she was a prepared kind of person, because she got a slip leash out of the trunk and had me leash the dog before letting us out. “Stay behind me.” She led the way to Shenman’s front door.
He answered, scowling. “You got my dog? Hey! What’s he doing here?”
“Your dog seemed to be running loose,” the sheriff said. “I didn’t see any sign of theft.”
“He lured her. Probably has meat in his pocket.”
“I don’t think so.” She flipped open a book of tickets, and clicked the pen. “In any case, I’m returning her to you. I’m going to write you up the tickets for a straying dog, for an expired rabies shot, and for no city license.”
“What? Look, she was on my property till he took her. You’ve got no call to fine me.”
“She is your dog?”
“Yeah!”
“Then these are your tickets. If I remember right, the fines will add up to… a hundred dollars even. You have two weeks to pay them at the courthouse.”
For the first time, h
e looked worried instead of angry. “I ain’t got a hundred dollars!”
“Should have kept her tied up. And vaccinated.”
“Fucking vet charges an arm and a leg. Who can afford that?”
“Maybe you can work out a payment plan. Remember, you have to bring proof of rabies with you to pay up and buy her license.”
“What?” He slammed the doorframe with his fist. “I’d just as soon shoot her. Save the money. She’s useless anyway!”
A movement drew my eye down the hall behind him. I saw Mrs. Shenman huddled in a doorway, dressed in a long skirt and heels. She looked old, too. Still as perfectly neat and tidy as ever, not a strand of white hair out of place. The hallway was too dim to tell if her face was just shadowed or bruised.
“What if I buy her from you?” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. “That way I’d owe the fines, right?”
I glanced at the sheriff. “Rabies and the license, yes,” she said.
“See? It’s a win for you. No fines, you make some money off me, get rid of the useless dog.”
His expression went crafty. “I paid five hundred dollars for her. Gonna breed her.”
Sure you did, you cheap SOB. You never had five hundred dollars to spend in your life. “Fifty bucks.”
“Two fifty.”
“All I got’s a hundred. Cash money.” I patted my pocket. “But you also save a hundred in fines, so that’s like making two hundred.”
He studied me with those beady eyes, frowning.
I added, “It’s my last dime. Don’t know how I’ll eat today or pay for the damned license.”
“Done.” His grin showed a lot of missing teeth. He held out his hand, wiggling his fingers. “Put the bills there, punk.”
I made a show of reluctantly scrounging in my pocket. The sheriff said, “Wait a minute.” She flipped her pad, wrote on a page. “I, Mr— What’s your first name, sir?”
“Harry.”
“I, Mr. Harry Shenman, hereby sell my female brindle pit bull— What’s her name?”
“Witch. Rhymes with bitch.”
She managed not to change the tone of her voice one bit. “To Mr?” She glanced at me.
I’d just as soon not have reminded her who I was, but this was a smart idea to cover my ass with Shenman. “Don Kagan.”
“Don-a-tell-o,” Shenman mocked. “Like the turtle. You mother was one crazy b—” The sheriff cleared her throat to cut him off.
Not that it mattered. At the end, Mom had been one crazy bitch. Although not when she chose my name. Then she’d been a scared sixteen-year-old who loved cartoon heroes.
“Got it.” The sheriff held out the pad to Shenman. “Sign that.”
“Where’s my money? Maybe he ain’t got a hundred bucks.”
I pulled the bills out of my left inside pocket and counted out loud. “Twenty, forty, sixty, eighty, ninety, four.” Shit. I’d paid six for the flowers from that pocket. I didn’t want to reach into another stash for more.
“Hah! Told you!” Shenman pointed a finger at me.
The sheriff dug in her own hip pocket, got out her wallet, and handed me a five and a one. “There. For transporting the dog. Pay the man.”
Two minutes later, Shenman had slammed the door in my face, and I owned a dog that rhymed with bitch. She looked up at me from the end of the leash, ears flat down and tail tucked. “Don’t worry,” I told her. “I’m nicer than that bastard. And I’m calling you Willow. Feisty redhead with a good heart.”
The sheriff laughed. “Come on. I’ll give you a lift home. Least I can do.”
“The six bucks was already a bonus.” I didn’t want her to know where I was living. Or not living.
She waved me down the walk toward the car. “You do need to get her rabies shot. But I can wait on the license, as long as she’s not running loose. Maybe the vet would cut you a deal, being a rescue and all. Are you really broke now? No food money?”
“Maybe I laid it on kinda thick for Shenman. I have a bit. I’ll get by.”
She seemed to consider saying something, then just held open the back door. “Come on. It’s a cold morning. Where can I drop you two?”
“The vet? I probably should have her ribs checked out, too.”
“Can do.” When she got into the front she twisted to look back at me. “Donatello Kagan, you seem like a good guy. I don’t know what beef Shenman had with you, or Conyers for that matter, but if you keep your nose clean from here on out, you and I will get along fine.”
I nodded. I wasn’t going to thank a cop for that. But staying around town seemed a lot less painful than it had fifteen minutes earlier.
Chapter 4
Adam
I’d meant to mostly hang out by the front door before we opened, to be there when Donnie showed up. I was sure he’d be coming back any time now. My stomach had dropped a bit, finding the break room and bathroom already tidy and empty when I arrived deliberately early. Even his backpack had been missing. But he’d promised…
Staring out the doors at the bright sunlight on the blowing snow, I had a flash of memory— me and Donnie inside the old culvert under Westwood Lane, years ago, on a bright summer day. In the heat of August, it’d been a shaded, quiet place. We’d ducked in there to kiss and make out. I was pushing for more, trying to get my hand into Donnie’s pants, and he fended me off, then held my wrists and stared into my eyes. He said, “If we’re doing this—” My heart had leaped when he said that, and he smiled like he knew it, then sobered. “If we’re doing this you need to know. I’m not a good person.”
“Sure you are,” I’d said. “Best person I know.”
“Hah.” He kept hold of my wrists, but leaned close and kissed me once. “Really not. And I’m not going to promise to be, either. Won’t tell you I’ll never cheat or steal or lie. Sometimes that’s what keeps a guy alive.”
“It shouldn’t be.”
“Keep believing that. But I’ll promise one thing. I’ll never lie to you. I might say something’s none of your fucking business. But I won’t lie. Not to your mom, and not to you.”
I tried to laugh it off. “But the rest of the world is fair game?”
“Hell, yeah.” He smirked.
“I won’t lie to you either,” I said.
His smile turned soft, and he let go of my wrist to touch my face. “You’re like deep water, clear all the way down.”
“Huh?”
His touch became a light smack on the cheek. “You got no poker face, Adam. Never gamble.”
“Okaaay?”
He kissed me then, and I lost my train of thought. But that moment stayed with me ever after, the light in his eyes and his touch on my face…
I stared out at the sunlit morning. He’d be back soon, and I’d take him somewhere quiet. Not that culvert in the freezing cold and snow, but one of our places, and we’d talk and it’d work out fine.
My luck was bad, though. I was in the back fetching more sports-themed ornaments from the storage room when I heard Nate shout, “You? What are you doing here?”
I sprinted to the front, clutching the box to my chest. Donnie stood at the front door, dressed in that same thin baggy jacket, backpack on his shoulder, but with a dog on a leash and a bag of dogfood at his feet. Nate had the door barely cracked open, the cold blowing in past him.
“Donnie!” I squealed, my voice too high as I tried to override Nate’s anger. “You’re back! Come on in, dude, it’s freezing out there. Who’s the dog? Is she yours?”
Donnie gave me a smile I recognized, wide, bright, a bit reckless, Donatello Kagan blasting past obstacles. “Hey. This is Willow. Yeah, she’s mine.” He put a hand on the door and pulled it wider, brushing past Nate into the store.
Nate shoved his shoulder. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
“Don’t you recognize me?” Donnie sounded angry. “I guess six years in the pen changes a guy.”
“Come on!” I tried to get between them. My chest ende
d up pressed against the chill of Donnie’s coat sleeve. “Donnie, you must be freezing. Why don’t you go on in back and warm up. Nate, quit yelling at him.”
Nate rounded on me. “You’re not surprised. You knew he was coming.”
“I saw him yesterday, yeah.” I nudged Donnie farther in with my hip. “He spent the night here. Like he’s done plenty of times.”
Nate’s face went red. He grabbed my arm and pointed a finger at Donnie. “You. Stay right there. Don’t let that dog chew anything. Adam, we need to talk.”
Donnie lashed out and clamped his fingers on Nate’s wrist where he held me. “Let go of him! Now!” I’d never heard his voice like that, cold and mean. Nate released my arm instantly, his flushed face going pale.
“Guys, guys, come on. You’re scaring the dog.” You’re scaring me. Nate and Donnie had never been friends, but they’d usually gotten along okay.
Donnie slowly let go of Nate’s wrist and looked down. The dog cowered to the floor, eyes rolled white, the tip of her tail just quivering. He dropped to one knee, eased the pack off his shoulder, and pulled her against him. Without looking up, he said, “If you two need to talk, go fucking talk. I’ll be here.”
Nate didn’t touch me again, but he stared at me over his shoulder as he stalked down the center aisle toward the counter. I wanted to talk to Donnie, but Nate looked like he might explode all over the store, so I followed him. He led me around the candy cane display, out of Donnie’s sight. When Nate glanced up, I realized he picked this spot so he could still see Donnie in the curved overhead mirror.
“You think he’s going to make off with a plush Santa?” I asked sourly.
Nate whirled and shoved my chest with a flat palm, hard. “Shut up and listen to me. He’s bad news. He made trouble for you years ago, dragging you in and out of his messes, and he’s worse now. I won’t have him in here, and you need to keep your distance.”
I smacked his hand away from me. “I’m twenty-three years old. You have no right to dictate who I see. Donnie’s been my best friend for—”
“For how long? Since he started fucking you when you were fourteen?”
I stared at him, my stomach lurching. Where did that come from? What did he hear or see? How long has he felt like that? Jerking my chin up, I said, “He wouldn’t do me till I was fifteen. For your information.”