by Wendy Owens
“What do you mean?”
“This calendar will guarantee the ones that might not be adopted by the time it gets released will get adopted. Everyone wants a little fame in their lives. Even if it’s as simple as their pet,” he answers.
“What happens if they don't get adopted?” I ask, worried I may not like the answer.
“It's a no kill shelter, so not much, but they can only take new dogs as current dogs are adopted. Every dog they can't take in goes to other shelters without as humane policies,” he explains.
I waive my hands, not wanting to think about the truth. “Okay, I get it.”
He shrugs. “You asked.”
Thinking about his early statement, I interject, “And by the way, not everyone is looking for fame.” I’m not sure why his cynicism annoys me so much.
“If you say so.” He shrugs. “Oh, here, before I forget.”
Aiden grabs a folded over stack of cash from inside a tin box on the corner of his desk. He crosses the room to where I’m standing and places it in my open hand, before quickly returning to the computer.
“Thanks,” I say, shoving it into my pocket, assuming it would be rude to count it in front of him.
“We got some great shots,” he adds, not shifting his attention from the images shuffling past on his computer screen.
“Good,” I answer.
"Did you enjoy it?" He asks me.
"What, the job?" I ask, not waiting for a response before answering my own question. "I just got paid to play with puppies all day. What do you think?"
He laughs, without turning to look at me, still sifting through the images on his screen. He waves a hand, motioning me over. I approach, staring at the pictures fluttering across the screen. "Check 'em out," he suggests, standing upright, creating a pathway for me to get to the computer.
"Oh, my God," I gasp, genuinely surprised by the quality of the pictures.
"We make a good team," he adds, and I can feel his eyes on the back of my head. The job is over. There is no longer a reason for me to be here and suddenly the awkwardness of what to say next comes creeping in.
I twist and look at him. His brooding demeanor has faded away, and he's now glowing. I can't help grinning.
"What?" he asks, seeing my expression.
"You really love what you do, don't you?" I inquire, shifting, and moving a couple of steps toward the exit.
He's considering my question. "I suppose it can be rewarding sometimes."
"Only sometimes?" I say jokingly.
He cocks his head, his mouth turning downward, "Shoots where I get to do something for a good cause are pretty rewarding. It's the ones where I get to spend all day taking pictures of glossy burgers or head shots of pretentious businessmen sitting behind their big desks so they can put the image on their unimportant websites where they sell their message of excess to the world that can be kind of draining."
"Wow, be sure you don't sugar coat it."
"Again, you asked," he reminds me.
"So why take those jobs if you hate them so much?"
"I'm going to let you in on a little secret of the photography world," he moves in close like he wants to whisper something into my ear. "Animal shelters don't pay well."
He steps back and looks at me, waiting for my response. I don't have one. Money pays the bills. That's why I risked coming to a stranger’s apartment. I turn to walk to the stairs. “Well, thanks, I guess. It really was fun.”
I linger for one more uncomfortable second before sprinting down the stairs.
Walking outside, the bright sun blinds me for a brief moment. I stop, waiting for my eyes to adjust. Drawing in a deep breath of air, I blink multiple times before reaching into my pocket and pulling out the newly received cash. Quickly I count it, before smiling.
“It’s all there,” I hear from behind me.
My breath falters as I turn to see Aiden leaning his shoulder against the doorway. I still can’t believe how good he makes a white t-shirt and baggy sweatpants look. “I know,” I reply defensively. Damn, he’s like a stealthy little ninja.
He grins. This infuriates me because it’s one of those grins where I can tell he knows what he does to me. I press my lips together firmly, determined to extinguish the heat he has created inside of me.
“Um, well, I turned around, and you were gone,” he says.
“Yeah, sorry,” I reply, swiping my finger across my phone, keeping my concentration on anything but him. “I couldn’t get reception in your place, and I needed—uh—to order an Uber.”
“Oh hell, you don’t have a car?” he asks, shifting uncomfortably while shoving his hands into his pockets as if he’s searching for something.
“Yeah, it’s no big deal.” I shrug my shoulders, sighing a breath of relief when I see on the app that the driver will arrive in three minutes.
“I’m sorry, I don’t have any more cash on me, but—” he stops, looking over his shoulder up the stairs.
“It sounds like the pups are getting rowdy again,” I say smiling.
“Kenzie, you did an excellent job today. Let me thank you by taking you out to dinner.”
My brows narrow. Is he trying to ask me on some sort of date? “It’s a job. You thanked me by paying me what you said you would. Well, that and by not being a psycho serial killer and chopping me up into a million pieces.”
He laughs and adds, “Jesus, you’re funny.”
“Seriously, we’re good. Thanks for the work.” I wave the money between us before shoving it into my shoulder bag.
“I’m serious, you did a great job, and I want to take you out to dinner to discuss business,” he continues.
“Business?”
Another thundering thud comes from the loft. He turns to look up the stairs in a panic, then turns back to me. “Yeah, would tonight work?”
Considering that was probably the most fun I’ve ever had at any job, I nod.
“Text me your number and I’ll send you the details,” he shouts over his shoulder as the door automatically shuts behind him. I realize I’m smiling as the Uber driver pulls up. I get in the car, and in a panic check my back pocket to ensure I still have his card with his number. It’s there. I squeal, and the Uber driver gives me the ‘you’re weird’ glare as well.
Chapter Nine
Kenzie
* * *
I stare in the mirror, questioning my outfit choice. Does it say professional or … frumpy? Frumpy. Absolutely. Outfit choice one screamed uptight Catholic girl; two shouted horny girl open for business, and now I’ve rocketed straight to frumptastic.
What am I doing? Are you an idiot, Kenzie? What are the odds this is actually a business dinner? I blow out a breath of air, my lips flapping wildly as I wonder if my doubt as to Aiden’s motives is from wisdom or hope. I shake my head, returning to my closet, pulling out my favorite skinny jeans with the tattered hole in the knee.
My head snaps to where I dropped my bag near the door. A reminder sounds of an earlier ignored message. I walk over and retrieve my phone. Half expecting to see Ben’s name on the screen, I breathe a sigh of relief when I spy the text that is there instead.
* * *
Anna: You alive still?
Smiling, I type my reply.
* * *
Me: Barely.
Though I failed to mention my photography job to my bestie—let’s be real here, it was only supposed to be one gig— apparently, my mother had taken it upon herself to call and fill her in on all the details. Perhaps it’s my fault for clueing my mother in on the fact that Aiden was a mega hottie. Either way, as soon as I was in the car, heading home, I discovered a voicemail from Annabelle informing me she expected a full debriefing.
* * *
Anna: :/
Not funny.
* * *
Me: A little funny.
* * *
Anna: So everything was okay?
* * *
Me: Yep.
* * *
/> Anna: Vague much?
* * *
Me: Not much to tell. He did slip in dog crap.
* * *
Anna: Gross!
* * *
Me: Not all bad.
* * *
Anna: How is dog crap not all bad?
* * *
Me: It meant he had to shower.
* * *
Anna: Alone?
* * *
Me: Yes! But …
* * *
Anna: But what???
I wait. Saying nothing. Knowing the silence is torture. I type a few letters to give the appearance I’m replying then delete them, delighting in her frustration.
* * *
Anna: Let me guess, he talks from his genitals?
* * *
Me: LOL! How exactly does that work?
* * *
Anna: You know what I’m saying ;)
* * *
Me: Not sure if he was even interested. Guess we’ll see tonight.
* * *
Anna: You slut! What’s tonight?
I laugh.
* * *
Me: Please. Hope you know me better that that.
* * *
Anna: I stand by my previous statement.
* * *
Me: He says it’s business. Quit worrying. It’s in a public place.
* * *
Anna: What about Ben?
* * *
Me: How many times do we need to do this?
* * *
Anna: Until I’m convinced this isn’t just a fight.
* * *
Me: IT’S NOT!
* * *
Anna: Do you miss him?
* * *
Me: Yes, but I’m not mad it’s over.
* * *
Anna: Sad?
* * *
Me: Maybe. All I know is I need to work on me right now.
* * *
Anna: Holy hell, my Kenz is sounding so grown up.
I send the most unflattering picture I can of me flipping her off.
* * *
Anna: Keeping it classy.
* * *
Me: ;)
* * *
Anna: I love you too, babe. Have fun. Call me!
Chapter Ten
Ben
* * *
Me: Have you seen Kenzie?
* * *
Callie: Trouble in paradise, lover?
I roll my eyes at her response. Leave it to Callie to never miss an opportunity to flirt, even if it’s with one of her friends’ boyfriend. Boyfriend? Is that what I still am? I feel a panic creep into my chest.
* * *
Me: I’m getting worried about her.
* * *
Callie: She bailed on girl’s night and our night of debauchery.
I pause, allowing an ounce of hope to enter my thoughts.
* * *
Me: Did she say why?
* * *
Callie: Girl stuff.
What the hell does that mean? I wonder.
“Screw this,” I growl, scrolling through my contacts and clicking on Kenzie’s name.
I wait, listening to each ring as I hold my breath. Answer. Answer. Please Answer.
“Hello?” There’s hesitation in her voice, but I don’t care, she answered.
“Kenz? Are you okay?”
There’s the hesitation again. Then a breath into the phone, followed by silence.
“Kenz?” I ask, my voice shaking.
“I’m here,” she answers softly.
“Where have you been?” I try my best to start the conversation, but I can’t seem to shield my anger and frustration.
“Around.” She gives me nothing. There’s the stubborn girl I know so well.
I imagine what she looks like on the other end of the line. Does she have her hair collected into her signature loose, top-of-the-head bun, or is she letting her red tresses fall and frame her face like she knows I like?
“Can we talk?” I growl.
She doesn’t lose control. There’s no crack in her voice or stress in her breathing. She’s confident and sure when she replies. “There’s nothing left to talk about.”
“How can you say that?” I snap.
“I don’t have time for this.”
Her words hurt more than I believe they were intended to.
“Why?” I demand. “Where are you going?” The curiosity overwhelms me as I imagine her rushing off to meet another man. Don’t, I tell myself. That’s not Kenz. She wouldn’t leave you for someone else. But, as the silence lingers after my question, the doubt begins to grow. Would she?
She sighs and my eyes close. An uneasy feeling wraps itself around my ankles, anchoring me to the spot where I’m standing. Something shifts in my heart and I’m suddenly unsure of everything.
“Ben, I meant it when I said—”
“Kenz,” I interject, wanting more than anything in the world for her not to say the words I know are coming next.
“We’re done.” But she says them anyway. “I have to go,” she says before I can string together the perfect sentence. The sentence that will fix it all; the sentence that will win her back. There’s a click and then a deafening silence.
“Kenz?” I question, even though I already know she’s hung up. “Damn it!” I shout, my desperation transforming into anger again.
I imagine her big doe eyes, the pools of jade sparkling.
“Everything okay son?” My dad’s voice cuts through the thoughts.
“Huh?” I gasp. “Oh yeah, fine.” I lie.
“Good, then if you’re done with your love life drama, Mr. Thompson has been waiting over thirty minutes for his oil change,” my father teases. I smile weakly, thankful for the distraction.
Hesitating, I think of claiming the last word in the conversation with Kenzie by sending a text, but then think better of it, shoving the phone into my pocket.
Chapter Eleven
Kenzie
* * *
Honey. I’ve passed the restaurant a couple dozen times but have never been inside. While it is a casual place, it also isn’t a restaurant in mine or Ben’s budget. When Aiden texted me the location, I considered asking that we go somewhere else. Then curiosity got the better of me. After all, when else will I have the chance to eat at the chic farm-to-table eatery?
Stepping inside, I see the hostess speaking to a young couple in front of me. My eyes dart around the open floor plan, an exposed brick wall, bare industrial ceilings, and reclaimed wood from floor to ceiling. I snicker to myself as I notice there’s no shortage of hipster diners. Ben would hate this place.
My phone buzzes and I retrieve it from my small black handbag. My chest tightens. Speak of the devil. He just won’t let this drop, no matter how many times I tell him we’re not getting back together.
* * *
Ben: Where are you?
* * *
Me: It doesn’t matter.
* * *
Ben: It Matters to Me.
* * *
My eyes involuntarily roll. I’m sure very little matters to Ben, other than Ben.
* * *
Me: Well it shouldn’t.
* * *
Ben: What is that supposed to mean?
* * *
Me: It means it’s not your concern anymore.
* * *
Ben: Seriously Kenz, where in the hell are you?
* * *
Me: We’re done Ben.
* * *
Ben: Fine, whatever.
* * *
His final text stabs through my heart like a hot poker of truth. I want him to leave me alone—why does it hurt so badly every time we interact? I want to tell him I’ll always love him. I want to tell him that this has nothing to do with who he is, but everything to do with who we are together—but how can I? He’ll never understand because he thinks when we’re together we’re perfect. He can’t stop long enough to look at us and see that together we’re al
l wrong. We hardly interact with one another when we’re in the same room. I can be sitting right next to him and yet I’m further from him than I’ve ever been.
I look down at my screen, and see the dots indicating Ben is unleashing the mother of all text messages to me. I moan in frustration, unsure why I ever thought a break up with him would be easy.
“There she is,” I hear, followed by a pause. I look up to Aiden’s smile, as he’s standing behind the hostess. He’s dressed in a pair of jeans that hug his hips and bottom in a way that my eyes can’t stop themselves from lingering. A blue sweater is pulled over a button up plaid shirt, the tails of which peek out from the bottom of the wool top layer. He’s hot, but in a way that looks like he doesn’t even try. I, on the other hand, spent most of the evening trying on everything in my closet. And ended up deciding on one of Ben’s favorite outfits.