Chapter 5

 

~ ALLIE ~

 

 

“Seriously? He’s really a SEAL?”

It’s barely nine in the morning and I haven’t had my coffee yet. I’m not ready for questions like this. But it’s my boss, Nancy, talking to me, so I slap on a smile and respond.

“Was a SEAL,” I clarify, talking into the little camera on my phone. Nancy likes to Skype our meetings, and I don’t mind because I can do it in my pajama pants. I manage to put on a bra and a decent shirt just to make me look a little professional. But I’ve worked for her for over a year now, and I’m pretty sure she can guess I’m in slippers right now. “And he really does go by Logan. When I called his references, that’s the only name they used for him.”

“Holy crap. And you told me you were such a bitch to him that Saturday morning,” Nancy reminds me.

It might seem odd that I even share details like that with my boss, but at this point she’s really more like a friend who passes me a meager paycheck every two weeks. She runs her nonprofit out of her home in Cincinnati, but is on the road two-thirds of the time giving speeches and having meetings pumping up the health benefits of being vegan.

It’s a hard sell in the heartland of America.

I take a sip of my coffee, laden with non-vegan creamer, and am glad she can’t smell the bacon and cheese omelet I cooked up this morning. Nancy knows I’m not a vegan, but there’s no need to rub her nose in it.

“Yeah,” I answer her, pausing to swallow my coffee. “But he’s still interested in Kosmo. And Crocco and Bullet look like they’ll have homes by the end of the week, too.”

“So you’ll have no dogs?” she asks.

I nod. “I’ll stop by the pound this week and pick up a few more,” I say, even though I know that’s not what she’s insinuating.

Tilting her head to the side, she raises her eyebrows. “Or you could sell your place.”

I sigh, trying to press the image of my real dream to the back of my brain. “I’m not ready to take that on.” My voice stammers, not sounding very convincing.

Nancy is the dictionary definition of a Type A. There’s nothing she won’t take on if it means getting closer to her goal. If she gets an idea in her head, she’ll pursue it to the ends of the earth. Which is why she has the balls right now to be calling from a hotel in Chicago—home to some of the best steakhouses on the planet, in my opinion—where she’s been trying to convince schools to embrace the vegan lifestyle.

Good luck with that, Nancy.

We talk more about her schedule of meetings and I jot down notes about some calls I need to make for her.

Even though the pay is the pits and I make twice as much selling sex toys in the evenings, I love my day job working for Nancy because she lets me telecommute. So while the rest of the world is stuck in rush hour traffic, I can be at home with my dogs, half of whom need a refresher course in housetraining when I get them from the pound.

I finish getting dressed so I can grab another coffee at Pop’s on Anders. It’s only a short walk from my condo, and I love that I live in small town America but can actually do things without needing to get in my car.

Granted, there aren’t many things to do in downtown Newton’s Creek, unless I want to buy gourmet pet food at Sally Sweet’s (which I certainly can’t afford), or get a malted milkshake at the five-and-dime (which I do far too regularly), or drool over the diamonds in the local jewelry store (which, sadly, has been having its going out of business sale for the last two months).

There’s a nouveau chic restaurant here, too, though I’ve never had enough in the bank to try it. It’s got a five-star rating online and people drive all the way here from Dayton and Cincinnati to check it out when they spend a day in the country.

I pick up one of the free papers on the corner before I turn onto Anders. It’s a warm late spring day and the humidity has kicked in just enough to make my hair frizz at the ends.

When I’m at the counter ordering, I put down my paper to pull my hair back in a ponytail.

“Hi, Pops,” I say, my eyes meeting the older man behind the counter.

“Happy Tuesday, Allie,” he greets me. Every morning, it’s the same greeting. Happy Monday, Happy Tuesday, Happy Wednesday. And Pops has been plenty happy lately ever since the commuter bus started picking up here on Anders Street, doubling his business on weekdays.

I can’t complain about it either since my condo’s value has spiked with more people wanting to live in the serenity of Newton’s Creek and commute to the city.

“The usual?” he asks.

“Yes, thanks.”

“Can I tempt you with a donut today?”

“No. Please don’t,” I beg him. I could easily be tempted, but something about meeting Logan has made my donut ritual seem a little less tasty. I know I blew my chance with the guy, but it reminded me that one day, maybe, just maybe, I’ll want to get naked with a man again.

Glancing at my watch, I pick up my pace toward home. I’m meeting Cass at the pound today to photograph the dogs. Cass is really good with a camera. I guess she picked it up modeling in New York. So every Monday we meet at the pound to take pictures of the new intakes so that they can be put online. Before we started doing this, they didn’t even have photos up of the dogs, and the only names they had listed were things like “HC128-SpanielX” and the like. There aren’t many creative types who work at our local pound.

By the time I arrive, Cass is already trying to put a pink bow on a Westie. The dog’s all brushed and I’m feeling guilty. “Am I late?”

“No. I got here early. Half of them are done already.”

“Thanks.”

“Figured I owed you after talking trash about your SEAL.”

I scoff. “He’s not my SEAL. And don’t worry about it. I would have done the same thing if the tables were turned.” I move to the Westie. “What’s your name, pretty girl?”

“Boy. It’s a boy.”

“Then why the pink bow?”

“I didn’t have a blue one. And it looks so cute. Don’t you think?”

I shrug. It does look cute. This one won’t even need my rescuing, I’m betting as Cass snaps a picture. Someone will probably snatch him right up direct from the pound.

But there are so many others.

We walk Ice Cream (Cass apparently named him) back to his cage, and I frown at all the new faces around me. They all aren’t as cute as Ice Cream. And worse, I see the familiar dogs, the ones I saw last week and the week before, who are likely running out of time. They might not be here when I come back later this week. I always let the County know when I’ve got space coming up, and they do their best to hold off on euthanizing them. But there’s only so much room here, and I need both my fingers and toes to count how many times I’ve come for a specific dog only to discover they’d just been euthanized.

Death is a bitch. There’s no “undo” button for it.

I feel my face droop. “Does this ever seem futile?”

Shocked, Cass turns to me. “What?”

“There are just so many we can’t save. And they keep coming. I wish I could get more foster homes.”

Cass frowns at my discouragement. “With the commuter bus now coming to town, more people are going to move here, Allie. Happens all the time. More people mean more fosters. And more people willing to adopt, too.”

“I know…” My voice trails as my eyes fall to a German shepherd. His face seems wise and I wonder what he’s seen in his life. Why would anyone give up such a beautiful dog? Will he still be here later this week when I have space? I make a mental note to ask before I leave today.

I turn to Cass. “Remember that property I was telling you about?”

“The foreclosure? Sure.”

Pausing before I say anything else, I mull whether to even voice my thoughts. There’s an old boarding kennel that went out of business before I even moved here, after a newer, fancier kennel opened up closer to the highway—one of those luxury pet resorts that offers tuck-in service, quilted bedding and dog massages. The older place just couldn’t compete, so the property is in foreclosure—two secluded acres about fifteen minutes from town sandwiched between two farms. I snooped around it once and guess it could fit at least thirty dogs in there.

It’s my dream.

Nancy told me about a nonprofit loan I could get, but I’d still need to come up with a good percentage of the money myself. Even though we get some donations, it’s not nearly enough to secure the kind of loan I’d need to buy that place and fix it up.

“Do you have a couch?” The words slip from my mouth too easily.

“Umm, yeah. Why?”

I sigh as I retrieve a dog from his cage and hook him up to a leash. “I’ve been thinking more about that boarding kennel. And if these three adoptions go through this week, it will be the first time I’ve been dog-free in ages, right?”

“Right. But what has that got to do with the boarding kennel?”

“What if I sold my condo, and used the money to secure that nonprofit loan Nancy told me about. I could make a bid on the foreclosure.”

“Where would you live?”

“Your couch.” I send her a feeble grin.

“Oh, Allie. You’d hate where I live. The people in my building are freaks. Even I can’t stand them, and I have a really high tolerance for freaks.”

Frowning, I lead the dog down the long hallway toward the room where we’ve set up our makeshift photo studio. Cass’s apartment is right outside of Buckeye Land, where most of the seasonal workers like her live. She’s right. It sounds like hell to me. But it can’t be worse than the hell I face walking in here every week and seeing all the dogs I can’t save. “It would only be for a short while, till I hear back from the bank.”

She picks up a dog brush. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you need. My roommate is drunk half the time she’s home anyway and probably won’t even notice. I don’t even think she’s noticed I started fostering dogs. But I think it’s a crazy idea. What if you go through all that and don’t even get the place? I’ve heard foreclosures are weird like that. You put an offer on one and wait for months, and the damn thing ends up going to someone else anyway.”

My shoulders slump. “But who’d want an old kennel? No one around here. It’s been sitting vacant for so long, I can’t imagine it’s in good shape.”

“All the more reason not to buy it, hon.”

I sweep up a pile of fur that has collected on the ground. “I just can’t get it out of my mind, Cass. I mean, it might be run-down, but it’s a boarding kennel, already equipped for animals. How many times is an opportunity like this going to come up?” I take the brush from Cass and start on the matted fur on the dog’s front legs, giving him a pet with my free hand. “When you decided to move to New York City to model, weren’t you following your dream?”

“Yeah, and look how that turned out for me, genius. I’m playing fairy princess in the middle of freaking Ohio for the summer because that’s the only thing my agent could get me.”

“But you went for it. You went for your dream. You don’t regret it, do you?”

“Every day of my life.”

Okay, not the answer I was expecting. “But you’d regret it more if you hadn’t tried. You’d be working somewhere wondering ‘what if?’”

“Maybe. But at least I wouldn’t have to slap on a smile for another slobbery, germ-ridden kid who’s been in line an hour in the heat to get a photo op with me.” She pauses. “Oh, speaking of, they changed my schedule on me again, and I won’t be able to bring Moppet to the adoption event on Saturday.”

I nod, expecting this. Now that Buckeye Land is starting their summer schedule, I doubt I’ll be getting much help from Cass. “No problem. I can pick her up in the morning and bring her back if you give me your key. Or I’ll ask Kim. She’s running a party for me tonight, anyway.”

Kim only does a couple parties a year for me. Her parents frown at the notion of their daughter selling sex toys, her mother referring to them as “those Devil tools,” which is why Kim needs to store her samples in my closet.

“Great.” Cass picks up the camera. “And you know what? Don’t listen to me. You go for your dream. My couch is there for you if you need it.”