Junkyard Dog

by Katja Desjarlais

  She hummed in acknowledgment, her gaze sliding to his arm. “You added on to the tattoo.”

  “Hades did, yeah.” The tilt of her chin was enough to loosen his tongue. He angled his shoulder toward her and rolled his sleeve up. “This is the Pirithous you fought off at the Chasm.”

  She reached across the table and traced the shade’s form. “Pirithous,” she echoed, snatching her hand back and placing it under her thigh. “He? It? It didn’t look like that when he hit you in his car.”

  He shook his head and unrolled his shirt. “He went full-on feral quick. The physical metamorphosis makes the line harder to take down once you locate it.” He exhaled loudly. “I knew you were tough, but damn, Charlotte. You held your own against that thing better than I could have. It took two hounds to subdue him in that cavern.” A faint blush rose on her cheeks, and he pressed on. “If you’d run, he would’ve taken my head. So thank you.”

  *

  Charlotte untucked her hands from under her legs as their meals were set down, anxious to turn the subject of conversation back onto Alex. “You realize you sound delusional, right?”

  Diving into his ribs, he nodded. “That’s the goal.” He zeroed in on his food. “I’d rather be tossed off for that than for being what I am.” With his attention on every bite he ate, he periodically glanced at her plate as she pushed her dry ribs around with her fork. “If you don’t eat that, I will,” he finally warned.

  She pushed her plate toward him, plucking one rib for herself. “Are you allowed to tell me all this?”

  “Mmm.” He nodded, swallowing. “Technically, no. But my ass is covered under the myths-and-legends clause. And since I’m not revealing any of the post-Hellenic gossip from the hill, I’m in the clear.”

  “You aren’t serious,” she huffed, pulling her plate back.

  He smirked. “Half-and-half. I’m in the clear with the gods, since most of them still hang out topside once in a while. And even if you did go to the press or online, you’d be dismissed as a nut bar, probably end up getting drug tested in the process. The second biggest risk is one of those crackpot conspiracy Bigfoot hunters getting it in his head that he’s got a lead. But even that’s easily dodged.” Tugging her plate to the middle, he grabbed a rib. “Since pitchfork mobs are outdated, it’s not much of a risk from a safety standpoint.”

  “What’s the biggest risk?” she asked, eying her abandoned meal.

  He examined a rib carefully. “Since we’re sitting here, it’s a nonissue.”

  He reached for another. She swatted his hand away, snatched a rib, licked it, and placed it triumphantly into the pile, mixing them around to claim her meal for herself.

  Wow, did she miss this.

  The glint in his eyes as he set his fork down in challenge.

  The way he pursed his lips while he decided his next move.

  Even the way he tucked his hair behind his ears before he made his choice.

  Shoving the thought to the back of her mind, she wrinkled her nose as he shrugged and continued to plow through her food, knowing damn well it grossed her out. “Nasty.”

  He popped another rib into his mouth. “Hungry.”

  Admitting defeat, her appetite still waffling, she switched gears. “So the kibble…”

  “Oh, god, no,” he muttered as he took ownership of the plate. “Don’t get me wrong. I appreciate the thought. It probably ties up there with one of the sweetest things anyone’s done for me next to saving me from a feral Pirithous, but dog food is horrendous. It tastes exactly as it smells, and as a hound? That smell travels for miles.” He hesitated, frowning. “Were you leaving it out there for me all month?”

  She sat back in her seat and tugged at the hem of her shirt. “Not for the first two weeks,” she replied hastily, suddenly second-guessing the action that had just seemed right at the time.

  Sliding the empty plate aside, he tilted his head. “Thanks.”

  “It was the cheapest, foulest-smelling stuff I could find.” She looked at his chest where his black shirt hid the tattoo underneath. “Hades marked you, didn’t he?”

  “Stamped me with his very own brand, yeah,” he replied, clearing his throat. “So what have you been up to for the past month?”

  She blinked. “I still have questions.”

  “Questions that can wait,” he countered. “Tell me.”

  *

  This was a huge mistake.

  Alex held his coffee cup up for the waiter, thanking him absently as he listened to Charlotte describe a hiking tour she’d given to a group of seniors.

  She was so animated, her facial expressions changing every few seconds while her hands augmented every statement. The self-conscious tugging at the hem of her shirt was long forgotten, her attention wholly focused on bringing him into the moment she was describing.

  It was wasted effort.

  The only moment he was in was this one.

  Flopping back against her seat, she grinned. “I’m doing it again next week.”

  He sat there mute, memorizing how she looked in that instant until her smile fell. “Are you okay?”

  Snapping back to attention, he nodded. “All good. So the park’s busy as ever now? What shift are you working?”

  “Evenings,” she replied, wrinkling her nose. “I think I actually prefer overnighters.” She flipped her phone over and glanced at the time. “I guess reality’s calling, isn’t it?”

  Waving the waiter over for the bill, he stood and held his hand out for her. “So what are the chances I’ll talk to you again?” he asked as he passed the server a wad of cash.

  She dropped his hand and fumbled around in her purse for her keys, her eyes obscured by her hair. “I don’t know,” she finally stated, tracking the waiter as he made change and walked toward them. “It’s an awful lot to process, and I’m still trying to force my head to make the jump between real and imaginary.”

  Waving off the change, he followed her outside, his hands shoved deep in his pockets as he toed Hades’s line a little too close. “You still have my number, right?” When she nodded, he pressed on. “Then how about I leave the ball in your court.”

  She leaned against her car and crossed her arms. “When do you take off for Albany?”

  “I’m heading over to Thomas’s tonight to grovel for my job back, so not anytime soon,” he said, taking half a step closer to her. “We’re not even sure Albany’s the place anymore. And even if it is, I’m considering staying rooted here and just making business trips.”

  She looked up at him, lips pursed. “Business trips?” He smirked and she turned to open her door. “Good luck at the tavern,” she said as she sat. “The guy who replaced you annoys the hell out of me.”

  He stepped away as she backed out of her spot and gave him a quick wave before she sped up and hit the road.

  Enormous fucking mistake.

  A strange ache was settling in his chest as he got into the SUV and started the engine, cranking the air-conditioning and glaring at it until the vents stopped blowing hot air into his face.

  There was no way he could live in this town.

  Seeing her out and about, making small talk with her at the grocery store, running into her at the bars while some halfwit bought her drinks and told stupid jokes.

  He pulled into his site and hopped out, staying just long enough to toss his forgotten laundry in the back before he drove to the rental office to sign off on another month’s rent.

  Painful as seeing her was, the alternative would be borderline unbearable.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Alex folded the last of his shirts and stretched over his bed to open his cupboard. “I’ve been putting it off, but I’m heading over to my old job after I finish up the laundry,” he called toward his phone. “Hopefully I can pull enough shifts to cover bills until Ryan gets a bead on the guy.” A loud rumble echoed through the speaker, drowning Bo’s response out. “What the hell was that?”

  “Hammer drill,” Bo re
plied once the sound stopped. “Gimme a sec to get outside.”

  He moved his phone to the kitchen counter while he rinsed out his coffeepot.

  “Way fucking better,” Bo grunted, the clanging of metal and rumble of power tools no longer competing with his gravelly voice. “Ryan’s barely had time to sleep with the extra shifts he’s been pulling, so you might as well make yourself comfortable for a while.”

  Drying the pot out, he peeked through his window at the elderly lady passing by with her dog. “How’s work going for you?”

  “Shards of metal in my hair and grease in my ass crack,” his brother replied, pausing to take a drag of a cigarette. “But most of the dealerships I hit up have hot receptionists, so it balances out.”

  He snorted and gathered up his phone and keys, slipping his wallet into his back pocket before he locked up the trailer. “Speaking of hot women, I saw Charlotte last week.”

  Bo exhaled loudly into the mic. “She buy you a squeaky toy?”

  “Shut up.” He laughed, backing out of his site and giving the elderly woman a wave. “I kind of told her everything.”

  Nothing but the long draw of smoke followed for a few seconds. “Were you drunk?”

  Only on her eyes. “No. She showed up at my place and A led to B.”

  “So you got laid?”

  “You’re an animal,” he muttered, turning into the Tavern lot. “I meant she showed up and asked and I answered.”

  Bo covered the mic and yelled over to someone, returning to the phone with a huff. “Goddamn tire busters,” he grumbled. “Look, it sucks you didn’t get laid, since Charlotte’s probably the only woman around who can tolerate your ugly ass for more than a week. How’d she take it?”

  Ignoring the insult, he ran his hands through his hair and let the SUV run in the heat. “Good, I guess. She didn’t freak out or scream.”

  “Good sign,” Bo replied, the flick of a lighter coming through the earpiece. “You going to hook up with her again?”

  He turned the SUV off, unbuckling his seat belt. “This time, she sought me out. I don’t think I can abuse that loophole again without ramifications, so…” He trailed off and cleared his throat. “Hell, if she ever calls me again, I’ll be happy with that.”

  “I wouldn’t if I was her,” Bo stated. “You’re one hideous bastard. And you smell like wet dog.” When Alex snorted, he exhaled. “Smoke break’s over. My advice? Go for it. Ryan and I already discussed this shit, and we’ll go to bat for you with Seph and Hades once we catch this last asshole and return home for good.” The noise of the shop returned to the background. “It would be weird to be down there without you, but we get it.”

  Refusing to allow himself to contemplate what Bo was suggesting, he leaned forward. “Cerberus is a package deal, brother.”

  “And I’m not spending the next nine centuries listening to your moping ass whining and whimpering over a chick,” Bo yelled over the clanging. “Now go get a job, you useless fuckwad.”

  He tucked his phone into his back pocket and walked into the lounge, spotting the new bartender immediately. “Hey man, Thomas around?”

  The guy gave him a once-over and nodded. “I’ll go get him. Name?”

  “Alex.”

  Taking a seat at the bar, he watched the man disappear into the back, returning moments later. “You can head on in.”

  He pushed through the familiar kitchen doors and waited for Thomas to emerge from the cooler, arms loaded with vegetables.

  Thomas looked him over, dropping everything onto his prep counter. “Make yourself useful and pass me those bowls behind you.” When Alex complied wordlessly, the elderly man handed him a knife and a bag of onions. “How’s it going, boy?”

  “It’s going,” he replied, washing his hands off in the sink. “The place looks good. Insurance cover the repairs?”

  Grunting, Thomas reached over and corrected his hold on the knife. “Everything but a few bottles that hadn’t been entered into the system yet.” He stepped aside and appraised Alex’s dicing skills. “Is this a social call or a business call?”

  “Both.” He scraped the first onion into the bowl. “I don’t suppose you’re hiring anyone under the table for a few shifts a week.”

  “Nope,” Thomas replied, opening a bag of tomatoes up. “The last guy I brought in like that snuck out on me in the middle of the night and left me scrambling to fill his rotation.”

  He kept his attention on the blade in his hand. “I’m sorry,” he grumbled, squinting at the uneven sizes of his onion pieces. “I had some family stuff come up.”

  Thomas leaned over and looked at the onion, wrinkling his nose for a moment before handing him another one. “That brother of yours is trouble,” he stated. “Did he have anything to do with your disappearance?”

  “Kind of.” He widened his stance and bent closer to his cutting board. “I’m thinking of maybe staying around the area. Settling in and all that home-boy crap.” He slapped the knife down. “Looks as good as yours.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” Thomas grumped. “If you consider getting some legal identification, I might consider hiring a dishwasher and prep guy.”

  He held his hand out for a tomato. “Not even my license is legal. I told you, man. I don’t even have any birth records.” He pushed the knife into the tomato, swearing when it crushed and sent juice onto his shirt. “This is probably a really dumb decision.”

  Thomas pointedly exaggerated his movements, angling his arms so Alex could watch his technique. “What’s making you consider staying?” When he didn’t reply, Thomas returned to his work. “Have you seen Charlotte since you got back?”

  “Last week, actually,” he muttered, going back to the onion.

  “And how did that go?”

  It’s an awful lot to process.

  “As well as expected, I guess.” He sighed, glancing up as the new bartender came in and tossed an order onto the ring. He waited until the door swung shut before continuing. “He’s working out, I take it?”

  “Daniel gets the job done,” Thomas answered. “Customers seem to like him enough.”

  He walked over to the cooler and grabbed a stack of burger patties. “Charlotte doesn’t like him.”

  “Charlotte hangs out with Max,” the elderly man countered. “She’s hardly the epitome of character judgment.”

  “Exactly.” He grinned. “If she can identify the guy as a jerk, imagine how bad he must be.”

  Thomas fired up the grill. “I’ll tell you what,” he said, separating the patties and laying them on the metal. “Come back Sunday. If you’re still determined to put down roots here, we’ll talk. If not, I’ll buy you a beer and wish you well. Sound good, son?”

  He nodded and opened a bag of buns. “Mind if I hang around here tonight?”

  “Start by bringing the liquor order over from the back.”

  *

  Charlotte hung up her radio and pulled onto the off-road path, slowing to a crawl until she reached her destination.

  The ball was still in her court, sitting lifelessly on the sidelines.

  Confident she had at least half an hour before Max would be radioing in for her again, she turned off the engine, grabbed her flashlight, and gave the area a quick scan before she got out. Climbing onto the hood of the truck and leaning back against the windshield, she stared up at the expanse of the night sky.

  “Who needs aliens when you have a hellhound sleeping in your backyard?” she muttered, rubbing her temples.

  She liked order and facts and incredible animal adaptations that could be explained through Darwinism. She stuck to fiction books that existed in the realm of possibility, movies that held one foot firmly planted in reality.

  In her opinion, myths were overly complicated stories bred from a civilization that hadn’t the scientific evidence to explain their world.

  They weren’t the family history of some random guy working behind a bar.

  Some random guy who made her heart pound.
Or could keep her up for hours talking about everything and nothing.

  That random guy who she’d been drawn to the moment she saw him, hiking boots haphazardly tied and a rakish grin on his face.

  A low howl crossed the Keys, the high-pitched yelps of the coyotes joining in as the howl drew closer to her, coming up slow and steady on her right. She kept her eyes on the stars and ignored the hesitant approach of the beast in her peripheral vision.

  “If you’re looking for kibble, you’re out of luck,” she called over, closing her eyes and folding her arms behind her head, a strange security settling over her with the dog’s presence in the quiet desert. When Butch chuffed, she smiled and glanced over at him. “I dropped it off with a family on the east side. Some yappy little fur ball’s eating it now.”

  Butch, Alex, held back a few yards, his ears perked up and head tilted.

  “You put me in a tough position,” she continued, turning her attention back to the sky. “I either have to rearrange my entire world view, or accept that both you and I are delusional and likely feeding off each other to create an alternate reality.” She frowned. “Though I’m not sure what my head thinks it would gain by composing this.”

  She scooted over, dropping one arm over the side of the truck and tossing the other over her eyes. “If I go along with the delusional explanation, I have to accept that everything from the past few months wasn’t real. Or at the very least, the parts of it involving you weren’t.” She rubbed her fingers together and waited until a soft muzzle bumped against her hand. “And frankly, that kind of sucks.”

  She grazed the beast’s ears, lifting one at a time absently. “On the other hand, accepting that an entire society exists in another realm? That opens a whole other can of worms for me, doesn’t it? I mean, one of the big questions is are you a dog that turns into a human or a human that turns into a dog? Because that’s an important distinction.”

  The dog growled, nudging her hand.