by Emerson Rose
“I told him I wasn’t going, and he tried to make me feel guilty saying he had made arrangements for a car and bought a new suit and RSVP’d to his fancy party. He wanted a good explanation as to why I was backing out, and when I couldn’t give him one that he deemed suitable, he started babbling on about sending me for a spa day and a new dress. He said he won’t take no for an answer. He’s infuriating.”
She is quiet while taking a microscopic sip of her too hot tea, and then she shrugs. “He’s persistent, he likes you, and he wants to show you a good time and spoil you. What the bloody hell is wrong with that?”
I groan. “I don’t like that. I like guys I can be myself with them. I like hanging out in dive bars chillin or curling up at home on the couch to read a book or watch Netflix. I don’t get into high-class parties and expensive body scrubs and dresses. We are nothing alike, nothing.”
“Didn’t you grow up dirt poor with no father and a mum with multiple sclerosis?”
“Yes.”
“And haven’t you come a long way since those days?”
“Yes, but…”
“No buts, you worked hard climbing out of the gutter to build a better life for yourself. You tried new things, stepped out of your comfort zone, and you did it all so you could step up in the world. Why are you pushing him away for doing the exact same things?”
“I wasn’t an arrogant bully about it like he is.”
“Okay, so he’s a bit of a stubborn one, but I remember a day when you all but ignored a banker when he told you your credit wasn’t good enough for the loan to expand your shop. You talked circles around that man until he gave you want you wanted. It seems to me you didn’t like taking a dose of your own medicine today.”
I feel deep frown lines form between my eyebrows. I hate being called out when I’m wrong, and Marissa has a steel trap for a mind. She’s right, I can’t argue with that.
Reading my mind, she smiles and pushes my tea closer to me. “So, he’s sending you a dress, is he? How exciting. And a spa day, oh, do you think he would mind if I tagged along? I could use a good pedi, you know, my dogs are gnarly.”
Oh my God, now she’s doing it, too. I guess if nobody is going to listen to me, I may as well enjoy a free spa day and a night out with Seattle’s sexiest attorney.
5
I stop at the gym in my building after work to run off some of my frustration before I go upstairs. I don’t want to subject a poor, unsuspecting Jacob to my frayed brain. I’d rather clear my head and then talk to him. He always has good advice, and he’s known me since we were in kindergarten, he understands where I’m coming from.
I change into a pair of black workout leggings and a crop top in the locker room and head out to the row of treadmills. All but one is taken at this time of the evening. Everybody else has the same idea, de-stress before going home.
I climb on and punch in my interval program, pop my earbuds in, and get lost in the hard beat of the music. Before I know it, an hour has passed, and I’m dripping in sweat with shaky gelatin legs. I know if I don’t get off now, I’ll never make it upstairs without falling.
“Nice sweat you’ve worked up there, what’s bothering you?” I hear Jacob say behind me when I remove my earbuds. I start to turn, but he walks around the treadmill to stand in front of me.
“You know me too well.” I towel off my face and step down carefully. He takes my hand knowing that I sometimes push a workout too hard.
“So I’m right, what’s up?”
“Can we talk upstairs?”
“I was on my way out when I saw you in here trying to commit treadmill suicide. Can it wait a couple of hours until I get home?”
“Sure, of course. Where are you going?”
“I have a date.” He wiggles his eyebrows, and I smile wide.
“With?”
“With Gabe, he’s a hairstylist. I met him on a shoot a couple of weeks ago, and he’s in town for a while. It’s just dinner and maybe drinks, shouldn’t take long.”
“It’s not important, don’t worry about me. Go have hot first-date sex with Gabe.”
He grins. “I don’t know about that. He’s the good-boy type. I like him.”
A good boy, that’s just what Jacob needs. I don’t care for the bad boys that he brings home—they make me nervous. “I’m glad to hear that. See you later,” I say standing up on my tiptoes to peck him on the cheek.
He scrunches up his face and wipes the kiss off with his sleeve. “Ew, sweat.”
“Oh come on, you’re not afraid of a little girl sweat, are you?”
“Actually, yes I am.”
I laugh and watch him stroll out of the gym with his hands in his pockets and a half a dozen sets of eyes following him. Jacob is a sex magnet. Everywhere he goes, he turns the heads of men and women alike.
Upstairs, I shower and curl up on my bed with my laptop. It’s time to do some Wolfe research. Using my foot, I pull up a throw from the end of my bed and spread it over me. I open my laptop and type in ‘Alex Wolfe attorney at law.’ Instantly, I am bombarded with hundreds, maybe thousands, of images of Alex Wolfe.
Some are portraits, and some are candid photos taken while he’s running or working or flying his jet. Yes, he’s also a licensed pilot, great. I hope he never tries to take me up in one of those tiny two-seater death traps. I am not afraid of too many things, but heights terrify me beyond words.
I scroll down reading about a few of his most recent cases. As a medical malpractice attorney, he defends the sick and injured. That’s honorable at least. I’m not a big fan of lawyers unless I’m in trouble, like most people, I suspect.
He recently won a case where a man had a misdiagnosed heart condition. The physician took the man off of all his medications, and two weeks later, he had a massive heart attack.
And another where a baby was born with cerebral palsy after a physician failed to perform a C-section when the baby was in distress. He does good things for people who have been wronged. I like that. Maybe he’s not all bad after all.
I keep scrolling and looking more at his social activities. He attends a lot of charity balls with beautiful women on his arm. You’d think he would be glowing and happy, but in every photo his face is tight, and he looks like he’s about to curse someone out. The women are oblivious and grinning like they just won the lottery. It makes me sad that they are unaware of his mood. They are only there for the publicity and the money—rich bitches or bitches looking to get rich. Pathetic.
Irritated, I scroll fast and hard to the bottom of the page where I stop and back up when I see a familiar face. There on his arm walking down the street on a warm summer day dressed in casual jeans and a crop top is the doggie stalker from today.
I scan the page for her name and find it buried deep in the article. Lilly Foxworth, daughter of the famous comedian, Blaine Foxworth. It says that they had been dating for three years at the time the photograph was taken two years ago. There is quite an age difference between the two of them. I imagine Alex is in his late thirties or early forties, and Lilly looks like she’s barely legal drinking age. I wonder how that relationship came to be. She would have been in her teens when they met unless the gossip rag that published the story was wrong about their timeline, which very well could be.
I look at the photographs of Lilly carefully, picking them apart trying to figure out what she was thinking or feeling in each one. That’s when I start to notice her appearance changing. Lilly looks like she’s gaining weight in a few pictures. Halfway through the year, her short shorts and skirts turn into leggings, and her tiny crop tops become tunics.
Could she have been pregnant? Holy shit, did she have a baby with Alex? I tap the words Alex Wolfe and baby into the search bar and wait.
Nothing.
Pregnancy, nothing, surprise pregnancy, baby Wolfe, scandalous pregnancy—nada.
Okay, so maybe she just gained a few pounds. She looked fabulous today. She’s probably one of those yo-yo dieters. D
amn my active imagination. It’s time to put the laptop away and get some rest.
Sliding my computer onto the side table, I glance at the photograph of my dog, Shep. He was the best dog ever, and the only pet I’ve ever had. I love him and miss him every day.
We didn’t have enough money to feed a pet back then. My mother could hardly feed the two of us with food stamps she received because she was on disability. But she knew I had a passion for animals, and she wanted me to use that passion to get out of our shitty town. When our neighbor’s dog unexpectedly had puppies, she let me keep one. He was a part Labrador and part German Shepherd, but he looked all German Shepherd.
No puppy in our town was given better care than my buddy. I worked doing odd jobs, mowing grass, babysitting, watering plants, whatever it took. I paid for him to have proper vet care, flea treatments, and immunizations. I paid to have him registered with the state. I bought him comfy doggie beds, sweaters that he didn’t need in California, but he had because I thought they were cute, and gourmet dog treats.
One day when I was seventeen, I was at the park with Shep, and I offered another dog one of his treats. The other dog’s owner was shocked that her dog ate the treat as he had been sick and wasn’t eating anything. She asked where I got them, and I told her I made them myself at home.
I made her a batch and brought them to the park the next day. That’s when the Bark Avenue Bone Bakery idea was born, and from then on, I was obsessed with the idea of opening my own business.
Shep guided me to my future. He gave me a goal to aspire to, and most of all, a way out of Stockton, the shit-hole town I grew up in. “Night, Shep, I love you,” I say to the photo and grab the remote next to it. I put on Netflix, cue up the next episode of Mindhunter, and hop out of bed to make some popcorn. I was going to make it an early night, but after googling Alex Wolfe, I need to talk to him even more.
My eyes feel like sandpaper when I blink at the end of four episodes. Jacob isn’t home yet, and I can’t put off sleep any longer. I turn off the TV and hear the door of our apartment open and close. I wait a moment and listen for voices in case he brought his date back to our place, but I don’t hear anything. “Jacob? Is that you?” I call out and think of all the stupid people who were murdered immediately after saying those exact words.
I’m starting to get worried when he rounds the corner and enters my room.
“Who else would it be?”
I flop back onto my pillow and let out a breath I’d been holding. “Oh my God, Jacob, don’t scare me like that.”
He surveys my bedroom eyeing the popcorn and the remote still on my comforter.
“You’ve been watching scary shit on Netflix again, haven’t you?”
“It’s not exactly scary. It’s more like a documentary about serial killers in the sixties and seventies with a little bit of a plot.”
“Serial killers? Not exactly scary? You’re a hoot, scoot over.” He motions for me to move over so he can crawl in bed next to me.
“How’d your date go?”
“Good. We didn’t hook up, and I still like him a lot, so that’s saying something.”
We lay on our sides facing each other with our hands under our cheeks, and our knees bent the way we have since we were in preschool. “That says a whole lot. Is there a second date planned?”
“Yeah, he’s coming over to hang and watch a movie tomorrow night. I wanted him to meet you. He was a little weirded out when I told him I lived with a woman.”
“He doesn’t believe you’re not bisexual?”
“I’m not sure, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to start out on the right foot. I can’t date a man who doesn’t love my best friend anyway.”
“True, you can’t.”
“So, what was it you wanted to talk about earlier?”
I lower my gaze to the sheet and wonder what Jacob will think of Alex’s bullish ways.”
“Oh no, you don’t. No backing out now, spill, honey. Tell me what’s got you waiting up for me.”
“Okay but try not to judge me, all right? I know Alex Wolfe is God’s gift in the looks and money department and all that, but I’m not sure he’s someone I want to get involved with.”
“I would never judge you. Continue.”
“Well, he came into the shop today, you know, to have his dogs groomed?”
“Yes, we discussed this yesterday, and I specifically made you promise to accept a date with him if he offered. I’m taking it he offered?”
“Yes.”
He props up on his elbow. I can’t meet his eyes. “And?”
“And I said yes.”
Lowering himself back down, he lets out a sigh. “Thank God, I thought you were going to tell me you said no.”
“Well…”
I look him in the eye. “Well, what?”
“He text me during the day, and he was so bossy and rude, so I tried to tell him I’d changed my mind when he came to pick up the dogs.”
Jacob’s beautiful tanned skin wrinkles up in a frown between his brows. “Wait, what do you mean you tried?”
“I mean, he’s a bullheaded, stubborn fast-talker who wouldn’t let me get a word in edgewise when I told him I’d rather not be his date on New Year’s Eve.”
“So, you said no, and he didn’t listen, and he’s still expecting you?”
“Yes. He laid a guilt trip on me about RSVPing and ordering a car. I was a little stunned at first, but then I tried to explain that I didn’t think he was good for me, and he ignored me. He offered me a spa day and a new dress, said he appreciated my self-preservation, but I had nothing to worry about yadda, yadda. He was infuriating.”
“So how did you leave it?”
“He just… he just left smiling like nothing was wrong.” I turn onto my back and throw my arms up over my head. I expect Jacob to side with me no matter how sexy he thinks Alex is. When I hear him laughing next to me, my blood boils.
I turn my head to verify that he is, indeed, laughing and glare at him. When he catches his breath, he tries to tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear, but I slap him away. “Oh come on, honey. He likes you. A lot. And he’s persistent. You can’t fault him for that now, can you?”
“Yes, yes I can. You weren’t there. He was arrogant and haughty. He had no regard for what I wanted.”
He sucks his lip between his teeth and bites down to keep from saying whatever it is he wants to say. “Just say it, get it off your chest. You think I’m a pouty idiot, and I should be jumping at the chance to date the hot bazillionaire.”
“That’s not true. I wouldn’t want you to date anyone you didn’t genuinely like. However, you do tend to be attracted to the wrong kind of men.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean that you, not unlike Alex Wolfe, enjoy a challenge. But in your case, the challenge usually turns into you chasing some loser who isn’t worth a second of your time. Just give him a chance. Maybe you two will have something in common. I mean he probably doesn’t ride a Harley or skydive or go bull running, but there might be something.”
“I don’t ride a Harley or skydive or run from bulls.”
“I know, but the guys you date are always into shit like that.”
I do go for bad boys when I go for anyone, which isn’t often. I pick guys I have nothing in common with so I can use it as an excuse to break things off fast. It’s a kind of built-in self-protection. Or self-preservation as Alex so elegantly put it today.
He couldn’t have me all figured out after two simple conversations? Could he?
Maybe Jacob’s right. Maybe I should just go on the date, enjoy myself, and see what happens. He does feel like a challenge, after all, an irritating challenge, but a challenge just the same. We can’t possibly have anything in common, and that will provide me with the perfect excuse to end it after one date.
“Okay. I’ll go. It’s not like I have much choice unless I want to lock the door and hide in the apartment for twenty-four hours un
til New Year’s Eve is over.”
“Wow, that was easier than I thought it would be.”
I roll back onto my side to face him. “There’s more.”
He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Of course, there is.”
“A woman came into the shop today. She was dressed to the nines in stilettos to browse at the Bark Avenue Bone Bakery.”
He opens his eyes, and they’re full of curiosity “What’s that got to do with your date?”
“I didn’t think anything until I came home and googled Alex and found photos of them together a few years ago. She was his girlfriend, and she’s super young.”
“Wait, his girlfriend came into your store the same day he dropped off his dogs? Stalker much?”
“Yeah, and get this, when she saw the three of them together, she realized they were his dogs, and she started crying and took off. The whole situation gave me the creeps.”
“So he has a girlfriend, and he’s stepping out on her with you for New Year’s Eve? Because if that’s the case, I am changing my mind, he’s a douchebag. Good looks and money or not, no man is two-timing his woman with my Olivia.”
“No, she said he used to be her boyfriend, and she’s not been photographed with him for a while. I want you to look at something.” I sit up and reach across him for my laptop. When I’ve pulled up the sequence of photos, I show them to him.
“What am I looking for?”
“I was noticing how her figure changed from this picture,” I say pointing to one of the pictures with Lilly looking beautiful in a skin-tight satin ball gown and ridiculous heels. “To this one,” I say pointing to her looking pale in black leggings and a long tunic.
“It looks like she put on weight, and she’s trying to hide it under that awful sack and tights.”
“Do you think it’s just a few extra pounds or a pregnancy, perhaps?”
He looks at me and back at the photos. “Could be either, I guess. Did they have a kid together?”