Crabbypants

by Colleen Charles

  Shrugging, I say, “And the rest are probably from Landon.”

  “What’s with that guy?” It’s a question I really don’t have the answer to. It’s a question I asked myself when we first met. Now, so much has passed between us, the complications impede giving any kind of an honest explanation. Instead of responding right away, I walk past the counter, checking the notes that Pam has written on the dry erase board.

  “Guy Foster took his dogs away this morning.”

  “Serves him right, based on what you told me about him.” Her eyes peer up at me, awaiting confirmation. But I can’t give it.

  “No, actually, he’s not that bad. He had a moment, but–”

  She interrupts me, a confused look on her face. “Wait a minute, so he’s not a total douche?”

  “No, he’s not a total douche.”

  “So, what happened?”

  I’m not quite sure how to explain because I need to talk to Guy before I can assess the facts. “Guy took his dogs into custody for complaints about animal abuse.”

  “Is he hurting the dogs?”

  “No. I mean, well…not that I know of.”

  Christine stands up, shaking her arms out at the elbows. “What?”

  “He spanked Chili on the butt at the agility trial. It was out of line, but it wouldn’t be classified as abuse from a legal standpoint.”

  She wrinkles her nose. It’s a look I’ve seen before, an expression she puts on whenever she doesn’t like something. I’m afraid of what she’s about to say. As much as I’m annoyed at Landon, it was never my intent to get others to follow suit. Despite everything, he’s just a misunderstood man in a lot of emotional pain. When tragedy strikes, sometimes rational decisions fly out the window. “I don’t know, maybe it’s for the best if he doesn’t have the dogs in his possession.”

  The wind knocks right out of me, the same way it does when you fall on your back, driving the oxygen from your lungs. “You don’t understand. Those dogs mean a lot to him.”

  Christine reaches out and puts a hand on my shoulder. “I find that hard to believe. I would never spank Sriracha. And I know you wouldn’t lay a hand on Merle.”

  “True, but–”

  “Brooke, maybe Guy was just doing his job. He may be a little abrasive, but I’ve never heard anyone talking about him seizing animals without cause. Maybe the chihuahuas would be better off being rehomed.”

  “I don’t know. This seems a bit extreme, if you ask me.” The words leave my mouth without thought, but as they ring through the room, I realize their truth. Regardless of my personal feelings for Landon, he didn’t deserve to have his dogs wrenched away from him.

  The phone rings. She picks up. “Hello, thanks for calling Bark Buddies Training, Christine speaking.” She pauses. “Our next group training session is on…” She looks at me.

  I hold up all ten fingers as I whisper, “Saturday.”

  “Ma’am, it’s Saturday morning at ten o’clock,” she says into the phone. “Can I please get your name and the name of your dog?” She picks up a pen and writes.

  When she hangs up, she says, “It looks like you’ll have a full house.”

  “That’s good.” I force a smile, but the one person who will be absent is Landon. The whole situation claws at my guts with talons like blades. Was it for the best? He’d repeatedly said that he wasn’t a dog person. But the hurt in his eyes was plain to see now that the Chihuahuas were actually gone. Sometimes it takes losing something to truly value its worth.

  Still, I’m pissed that he blamed me. If he would’ve listened to my training techniques a little more, all of this could’ve been avoided. Yelling, screaming, and hitting were ultimate no-nos.

  Christine looks over at me. “Like I said, I think it’s for the best if Mr. Crabby Pants loses his dogs permanently.”

  Tears burn the backs of my eyes as I think of happier times when Landon and I both laughed at his nickname. A time when so much promise lingered between us. Now, any hopes for love have faded away in the rearview mirror.

  The rest of the day is uneventful. The thought of calling Guy Foster for clarification on exactly what happened crosses my mind, but I decide to leave it alone. At the end of the afternoon, Christine and I turn off the lights and lock up the building.

  On the way home, I stop by The Pointe. I’m too lazy to cook, and I can use a drink or two. Not more than two since I’m driving, but a little something to take the edge off would be perfect.

  I walk inside and sit at the bar. There’s a happy hour special going on, so I’m just in time. A few people trickle in. It’s the after-work crowd. Since it’s Thursday, damn near Friday, the upbeat vibe creates an atmosphere takes me away from my troubles.

  The bartender, a middle-aged man with a receding hairline makes his way over to me. “Hey, what can I get you?”

  “I’ll take a white wine.”

  “Sure thing.”

  “Scratch that. How about a gin and tonic?”

  His eyes widen, and he chuckles. “Rough day?”

  “Something like that.”

  He pours the drink and slides it over to me along with a cocktail napkin.

  “Thanks.” I take a sip. It’s strong. I’ll only need one of these.

  “You bet.”

  There’s no way I can drink this on an empty stomach. “Can I please get that fried mushroom appetizer?”

  He nods. “I’ll put in your order right away.”

  “Hey, beautiful,” a man’s voice calls out. I turn around, and I’m face-to-face with an average looking man with brown hair and wireframe glasses. He flashes a big smile. His teeth are nice, but there’s no surge of immediate attraction. Not like there’d been with Landon. “Is this seat taken?” He points at the empty stool next to me.

  I’m tempted to lie, but I can’t bring myself to do it. Landon just accused me of being a liar a few hours ago. I can’t go there. Not now. “No, it isn’t.”

  The man sits down and extends his hand. “I’m Frank, and you are?”

  “Brooke.” I shake his hand. His moist skin turns my stomach, and I run my palm down my pants.

  “I’m not the kind of guy who picks up women in bars, but I had to come over here and say hello. You’re gorgeous.”

  Yeah right, you seem exactly like that kind of guy.

  I take a long sip of my drink, grateful that the bartender didn’t hold back on the gin. “Thanks.”

  “So, what do you do to pay the bills, Brooke?”

  I’m afraid to tell this guy about being a co-owner of Bark Buddies. I definitely don’t want a stalker on my hands. I decide to keep it vague. “I help animals.”

  “Are you a veterinarian?”

  “Something like that.”

  “That’s cool. I love animals. Especially gerbils.”

  I wrinkle my nose, hoping he doesn’t love gerbils in the way some ER patients do. “Actually, I’m a dog person.”

  “I’ve never really been into dogs. I’m more of a cat person.”

  I take a long sip of my drink. If he keeps this up, I’ll have to order another round.

  He whips out his business card. It reads: Frank Hogan | Insurance Agent. “Just in case you’re ever in the market for kickass prices on car insurance or if you wanna hang out with a kickass guy.” He waggles his eyebrows. With each passing second, it’s getting harder to be polite. I want to tell him to go fuck himself. Somewhere else.

  Out of courtesy, I take the card, but I have every intention of throwing it in the garbage. I think back on how Chad forgot my birthday. That was unforgivable. And Landon acted like an ass. Inexcusable. But Frank is so fucking corny that I just as soon live the rest of my life alone than have to tolerate someone like him.

  “Excuse me!” I wave to get the bartender’s attention. “Can I please get my food to go?”

  He glances at Frank and raises one eyebrow. “No problem.”

  Chapter 16

  Landon

  I only need a light jac
ket as the strength of the sun beats down on me. Spring has sprung. Green tree leaves are budding. Birds are chirping. All the garish fish houses littering the lake have been removed, lest they fall in among the crackling ice. It actually feels like an awakening today. I should be in a great mood.

  I am so fucking not in a great mood.

  Misery wraps itself around my neck like a scarf. The silence in the house deafens me to the point I’d welcome the incessant yapping back with open arms and heart. It’s been lonely the past few days without those little terrors. In this big empty house, I feel lost. The only thing I have to keep me company are my turbulent thoughts.

  Thoughts of Brooke and how I ruined my chance to make things right between us. Thoughts of Grandma Nancy’s beloved dogs. I’m amazed that I actually miss them, even Chili.

  I can’t help but think about how they used to bark and run for the door every time I walked into the house. Yes, they were annoying as hell, but for the first time ever I realize that they were actually good company. These days, my life doesn’t have a true sense of purpose. Even writing fails to fill the gaping hole inside me.

  I sleep in a lot and take my precious time getting out of bed. I haven’t left this house since they were taken. What’s the point? I used to love my morning walks, but it’s just not the same without my little terrors pulling me in all directions.

  I stand in the kitchen and make myself some coffee. I haven’t been in the mood for tea since things fell apart with Brooke. I look out of the window and see some children playing in the front yard across the street with a Saint Bernard.

  I sip my coffee and fight back the raw emotion. Why am I a fucking basket case? Pull yourself together, Landon! I take a deep breath and walk away from the window.

  Opening my laptop, my fingers fly across the keys. When I stop to review the words, I realize they’re drivel, and most won’t make it past my self-edit. I have another deadline coming up for my editor, but I just don’t feel much like writing. I push myself to be productive. After a little self-recrimination, I bang out a respectable five paragraphs. It isn’t my best work, but it’s better than nothing.

  I browse YouTube and click on a video of a golden retriever stealing a T-bone steak off a man’s plate. I should laugh, it’s actually hilarious. But I pause it because my heart’s not in it. My memories of the Chihuahuas are to blame.

  I stand up and decide that it’s time to bring the little terrors home. Even if I have to confront Mayor Briggs himself, I’ll do it. I grab my car keys and head outside. The sun caresses my skin. The kids across the street wave at me and smile. I wave back. Since I’ve made a decision, I feel better already.

  In control.

  I get in my car and drive to Guy Foster’s animal shelter. It’s Saturday so traffic doesn’t slow me down at all. I park and walk up to the building. All of a sudden, a big white van pulls up to the entrance.

  Guy sits behind the steering wheel. “What do you want?”

  “I want my dogs back.” I glare at him. I’m tempted to curse and shout, but I don’t think that will do any good. I’ll wait till Chili, Burrito, Fajita, and Taco are back in my arms to give this motherfucker a piece of my mind.

  “That’s not how it works.”

  When he finally looks my way, I say, “Why did you take my dogs away? Did Brooke have something to do with it?”

  He looks immediately startled and begins to shake his head. But as I watch, he stops and grins. “Of course,” he says, but I know he’s lying, the ass. “No one loves dogs more than Brooke.”

  My mind races. I thought for sure she had a hand in it. “You’re a fucking liar.”

  His cheeks match the color of his crimson North Face jacket. “And you’re a dog abuser. That’s the lowest of the low in my book.”

  “I’m not a…” I take a deep breath. Raising my voice won’t help this situation.

  “Your behavior won’t be tolerated in Prior Lake, not on my watch. We don’t abuse animals here.”

  “I want my dogs back now.”

  He gets out of the car with a Doberman on a leash. The dog turns to me and growls as if he wants to take off a piece of my skin with his razor-sharp fangs. Guy makes his way to the door. “What? I can’t hear you!”

  An easy grin touches my lips as I think about decking him. “I said I want my dogs back now.”

  Guy stops and does an about-face. He stares at me for a moment as if he’s contemplating unleashing the dog on me. He spits on the ground. “You only have yourself to blame. There’s nothing I can do to help.”

  The dog growls at me as they head inside. I take a deep breath. I wouldn’t put it past Guy to let the Doberman maul me to death right in the middle of the parking lot. I know I need another game plan if I ever want to see my little terrors again.

  That’s right. Mine.

  I head back home and pick up my cell phone. I know Brooke is the only one who can help me. It makes me feel slightly better knowing that she didn’t team up with Guy after all. I’m absolutely sure I don’t like the guy. In fact, I might even hate his guts. My heart throbs as I make the call. I wonder if she’ll bother to even pick up.

  She answers and my formerly throbbing heart dances a little jig instead. “Landon?”

  “Brooke, I’m sorry, I thought you had something to do with what happened with the dogs and–”

  “I told you I didn’t. Why didn’t you believe me the first time?”

  I gulp, swallowing the lump of regret lodged in my throat. “You’re right, I am a douchebag.”

  “Landon, you’re not a…” She sighs, a long exhalation of air. “Listen, you know how I feel about what you did to Chili, but I never wanted to see those dogs taken away from you.” Her words flow over me, and I imagine those blue eyes beseeching me. They overflow with that seafoam shade that could sink me where I stand if I let them. And the next time I see her in the flesh, I just fucking might.

  “I have to get them back. I went over to Guy’s shelter, and his exact words were, ‘There’s nothing I can do to help.’”

  “Landon…”

  I get emotional, my voice rising with the force of my desire. There’s a tenuous thread of connection remaining between Carla and me. I will not allow Guy Foster to cut it. “Those are Grandma Nancy’s dogs!”

  Brooke’s voice rises with her own brand of emotion. “I know. I know how much she meant to you–”

  “No, you don’t. Grandma Nancy raised my wife. Carla’s parents died in a bad boating accident on the lake. This very fucking lake that I’m looking at right fucking now. Do you understand?”

  I hear Brooke release a breath right before she says in a soft voice, “I’m so sorry, you never told me anything about that.”

  “I don’t like to talk about it.” I sink into a chair and drop my face in my hand. “There’s a lot of things I don’t like to talk about.”

  “I can’t blame you, it’s totally understandable.”

  I ignore her attempt to appease me. “Grandma Nancy was like Carla’s mother. She was nothing but nice to me all the years I knew her. She never treated me like an in-law, I always felt like family. The only thing she asked of me in her will was to look after her house and her dogs, and I…” My voice cracks.

  “Landon?”

  Tears stream down my face. I can’t stop them this time, I don’t even try. I’m not just crying about the dogs. I’m crying about Carla, Nancy, the death of my blackened soul. Most of all, I’m crying because the flesh and blood woman I want now thinks ill of me. “I messed up really bad. I’m always doing that.”

  “You didn’t mess up, you made a mistake. You’re human.” She’s offering absolution I don’t deserve.

  “No, you don’t understand.”

  “What?”

  “My wife is dead because of me.”

  She pauses, and nothing travels through the phone line for what seems like hours. Pain hangs suspended in the distance between us. I can tell she probably thinks that I’m a monster who
should be behind bars in an orange jumpsuit. Sometimes, I feel like being imprisoned in a cold, metal cell would be easier than being imprisoned by the iron claws of my own guilt. Living with what happened that fateful night with Carla envelops me in a way I don’t think I can ever shake. The burden’s too heavy to carry. I can’t keep doing it anymore.

  I take a deep breath. I don’t know how Brooke will react to what I’m about to say. But I don’t care anymore. “I…I...”

  “Landon?”

  I don’t stop, I can’t stop. I don’t want her to know how much I still want to love someone. Someone like her. “Brooke, there’s something I never told you about my wife. I never really told anyone.”

  “What?”

  “She would still be alive today if I wasn’t such a… it was a rainy night. We were on our way home. I was looking forward to us having a little wine by the fireplace. It was like any other normal day, except for the rain.”

  I closed my eyes and heard Brooke breathing on the other end of the line.

  I went on. “There was a lot of it. We could hardly see. Carla was driving. She always insisted on driving because I was a speeder. I still speed sometimes, but not as much. Anyway, Carla saw a woman with a baby stranded on the side of the road. She wanted to pull over and help them, but I thought something was off about the situation. I mean, why would the woman have her baby in the rain instead of sitting in the car? I told her to keep driving. I feel bad admitting that, but it’s the truth.”

  I paused, unsure if Brooke is still listening. She must have sensed my uncertainty because she says, “Go on.”

  “You’d have to know her. Carla had such a good heart. I didn’t even deserve a woman like that. She pulled right over. I was calling for help when she jumped out of the car to talk to the woman. She…I…she…” I can see the lights again. The tires hissing on the wet road. The scream of metal on metal. Tears flood down my face, burning through my sinuses, causing my entire face to flame.

  Brooke’s voice is so soft I barely hear her over the sounds I’m making. “Landon, you don’t have to–”

  “No, I want you to know what happened.” I take a deep, fortifying breath. “A truck lost control because the roads were really slick and he…he hit Carla. She was gone in an instant.”