“A scorpion tattoo?” Tiff asks from her perch on my bed, her voice on edge. She’s been following me around our postage-stamp sized apartment ever since I popped out to search for coffee. She took one look at my fucked-up hair and disheveled clothes and squealed, thinking the best. And she was sorely disappointed when I told her that my appearance wasn’t from a happy ending to my night.

With my schedule today, I had to rush it, grabbing four hours of sleep before dragging my spent ass out of bed for this morning. I know I must look like hell because she’d barely skimmed our horoscopes before beginning the inquisition of question after question.

“You for real?”

I nod, kicking my clothes across my tiny bedroom. It’s not much, four walls and a ceiling, but the rent’s still fucking ridiculous.

Unfortunately, the growth of Bane has meant lots of ‘real estate investors’ gouging people like Tiff and me on rent. Which is why we share this place and damn-near waltz to get around each other when we use the kitchen.

“Yes, an elaborate one with a stinger, claws, the whole nine yards,” I say as I slip on my pink T-shirt for the day that says Volunteer: May’s Animal Rescue. Reaching up, I poke myself in my boob. “Right here on his chest.”

My skin pricks as I remember his hard chest and washboard abs in front of me. I wanted him to take me so badly in that moment. I didn’t care that I’d just met him. The way I felt in his arms felt so right. He was rough and gentle at the same time, not rushing and not forcing me but driving me wild with his lips and the feeling of his body pressed against mine.

But when I saw the tattoo, that voodoo woman’s words pierced my arousal like a speeding bullet.

Your heart shall be his . . . then will come the sting . . . you will suffer . . . oh, girl, will you suffer . . . and then you shall burn.

A shiver courses down my spine at the memory. I know her mumbo-jumbo is a bunch of bullshit, but I couldn’t help being chilled by the coincidence of meeting a man with a scorpion tattoo who also happened to be a Scorpio mere days after her dire prediction. And the way he made me feel, he damn-near could’ve had my heart if he’d asked. Hell, he could’ve had my soul.

But none of that matters now, and I shake my head once, almost violently. “I kicked him out as soon as I saw it.”

Tiff makes a face, like she doesn’t believe what she’s hearing. “So let me get this straight . . . you haven’t had any dick since you left that worthless sack of shit, and just as Mr. Sex-on-a-stick was about to make your year, you kicked him out of the bar because of a mad woman’s prediction? Damn me and my stupid voodoo ideas!”

I hold in a groan as I turn away from the mirror and fix a scowl on Tiff. “Yes, I did exactly that. And who cares why? Why is that so hard to believe when I just met the guy?”

Tiffany gives me a look and drops her voice into a deadpan of Whoopie Goldberg from Ghost. “Molly, you in danger, girl!” she intones dramatically, shaking her head before continuing in her natural drawl, “of suffocating because your head is so far up your ass. Girl, get over yourself.”

“Oh, shut up,” I growl, yanking my hairbrush through my hair and wincing as I snag a tangle. “You’d have been scared shitless and would’ve done the same thing if you were in my shoes. Besides, Stella would’ve had my ass if she ever found out.” I’m reaching for straws now, and even I can hear the weakness of my excuses.

Tiff shakes her head. “Wouldn’t hear it from me. So unless you couldn’t keep your big mouth shut, why not get a few strokes in yourself?”

“It doesn’t matter now. And I did the right thing sending him on his way, although maybe I shouldn’t have done it so . . . harshly,” I reply, setting my hairbrush down and trying not to cringe at the memory of the confusion written on his face and how he’d waited in the Uber outside even after I’d been a bitch to him. When I walked out and saw him wave, I almost caved and invited him back in, thinking we could fuck and then part ways. But I held fast, sure I was doing the right thing. But now . . . I don’t know.

I keep talking, trying to convince myself as much as Tiffany. “He was a total stranger. I should’ve kicked him out the second he came back in. And I don’t have time to play what if. What if I’d let him fuck me at work? What if the psychic was a loon? What if I overreacted? The point is, I was frazzled by the prediction and it’s over and done with now.”

Tiff looks as if she wants to argue then smiles. “Okay. I suppose I should be happy. You’re showing some progress, at least. Shit, getting an orgasm with a hot stranger, you’re a step up from me, girl. I smell some T-R-O-U-B-L-E in your future, so getcha some.”

“Not trouble, danger,” I growl, wishing I wasn’t so blabber-mouthed. I’m usually only this way before my morning coffee, but today, I needed to share my whirling thoughts and Tiff caught me at a talkative time.

“Huh?”

“His name was Scott Danger,” I explain. “You didn’t recognize him?”

“No shit?” Tiffany asks, surprised. “You mean like the big ass building in the middle of the city, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

Tiffany whistles. “With a name like that, maybe you were right to kick him out. It’s gotta be a bad sign if his name is an actual warning label.”

I ignore her joke and tug on my shorts. “Do you feel like volunteering today? Aunt May hasn’t seen you in a while. She’d love to see you.”

Tiff shakes her head, flopping back on my bed and grabbing my pillow in a tight hug. “Nope, nope, and nope. You know I love animals, but I can’t take being around cats. I turn into a ball of snot and misery. Send Aunt May my love though. I’m gonna sit back and chill, psych myself up to go to work tonight. Driving home Limp Dick and Momma Stella was a nightmare.”

Laughing, I leave my bedroom and grab an OJ and a small snack from the kitchen. I contemplate grabbing another cup of coffee but decide I might be better off spacing the caffeine rush out instead of gulping my daily allotment at once. I’ll pump myself up with sugar on the twenty-minute drive to the animal shelter instead.

Crossing Bane is really weird, mainly because I can see how much the city’s grown since I first got here. When Aunt May first opened up her place seven years ago, it was out in the boonies, on a tract of land inconveniently located at the end of a two-mile deserted dirt road.

Now, as Dolly sings to me about how it’s all wrong but it’s all right, I pass two Starbucks, a McDonald’s, a Piggly Wiggly, three housing subdivisions, and an elementary school before pulling into May’s shelter. Even if Bane has gotten fancier, the shelter still looks rundown. Its history as an outbuilding for the farm that used to take up this section of land is readily apparent.

Still, it’s got spirit, and if May only makes ends meet by depending on volunteers like me . . . well, that’s just some extra money she can spend on the precious fur babies.

I’m surprised, though, when I see a van and camera crew from a local TV station parked out front. The shelter normally gets zero attention, and we have to beg for donations. But May’s out front now, talking excitedly to someone with a WISV-TV jacket on, but she looks up as I approach.

“Hey, Maddie, my darling niece!” May says, coming forward with her arms outstretched to give me a big hug. May’s still got most of the figure that turned heads when she was a young woman, but her face is heavily lined. May used to be a heavy smoker before a heart scare caused her to stop when I was in high school, but the damage had been done. Still, her smile lights up her face, and I’m glad to see her, the sense of coming home filling me with warmth.

“Hey, Auntie, how’re you doing?”

May hugs me as tight as she can, which isn’t nearly as tight as I can take, but it still feels good. “So good to see you. Haven’t heard from you in a good week. Maple and Syrup missed you,” she says in her deep accent. I know it’s where I got mine from. “You need to call me, girl!”

“I’m so sorry, Auntie. I’ve been so busy at work that I haven’t had a time.” I nod over at the camera crew and the guy in the jacket. “What’s all this about?”

May turns, the excitement making her eyes sparkle. “Oh, that’s just the morning wakeup news” she says with a false air of ‘no big deal’, even though I know she’s bursting with happiness. “They came out to interview me for their Sunshine Story of the Week. It’s a segment they run to highlight a local Good Samaritan and showcase their cause. I’m hoping to spread a little animal joy to the folks of Bane.”

“Oh, my gosh, Aunt May, that’s awesome!” I exclaim honestly as I give her a hug. “I can’t think of a better person to be recognized for what she’s doing to give back than you.”

It’s true. Aunt May is the type that’d give the clothes off her back if she saw someone who needed them. She always wants to help, especially with the most downtrodden in her mind, our dogs and cats.

It hasn’t always been that way though. She’s told me stories, warning tales, really, about her younger days. She’d been quite a party girl, and the wrong crowd was her crowd. She’d even been arrested once after a bar brawl broke out and the cops had cuffed everyone, country boys, bikers, and women alike, before sorting it all out at the precinct. She jokingly told me that was when she knew handcuffs weren’t her kink and then laughed her ass off when I’d yelled ‘TMI’ and covered my ears.

But all her wicked ways changed when her younger sister, my mom, had shown up late one night with me in tow. Aunt May said she’d tried to get my mom to come in, tell her what was going on, but she refused. Instead, she handed me over, carefully wrapped in a baby blanket, and ran away to hop in a waiting car. That was the last time we’d ever seen or heard from my mom. But Aunt May changed that very night, suddenly responsible for someone other than herself.

She quit drinking, partying, and hanging out with the wrong folks and got a steady job to support me. Now, over two decades later, I have her to thank for the woman I am today.

So I’m truly happy for her as I smile warmly. “Congratulations, Auntie!”

“Thank you, honey,” Aunt May says, blushing but obviously pleased with the attention for her beloved animals. Before she can say anything else, the TV station guy taps her on the shoulder, asking if she’s ready, and May nods. “Sure, just one sec.”

She turns to me and grins wide. “Okay, they want to start their filming inside. Can you go on in and ride herd on the other volunteers? I’ve got them washing down the pens right now.”

“Sure, that’s easy . . . and stinky, so better them than me,” I joke, although I’ve cleaned the kennels more times than I can count. I head inside, finding two girls and a guy in back, hosing down the pens while half the dogs are outside. I barely have a chance to say hello before I hear familiar barks coming my way. I turn to see Maple and Syrup, two basset hounds May rescued and decided to keep as mascots, coming around the corner. They’re waddling as fast as their little legs will go, excited to see me.

“Hey, babies!” I say as Maple, the slightly darker brown one, tries to jump up. I bend down and hug her, letting her give my face a bit of a tongue bath before Syrup gives me the same treatment. ”Yes, yes, I love you too.”

I hear the volunteers laughing as the two stout dogs almost knock me over from my kneeling position, trying to love on me the same way I’m loving on them.

In the background, I hear the camera crew come in and start filming. I try to keep Maple and Syrup with me so their barks don’t interrupt. Rubbing their bellies and hearing their grunts of happiness make me smile. I really do wish I could do something like this full-time. These poor babies are just like me, abandoned and just needing a bit of love to shine. Thankfully, I’ve got Aunt May, and so do Maple and Syrup, but there are millions of animals not so fortunate. “If I could save you all, I would,” I whisper into Syrup’s doe brown eyes.

Maple thumps her tail, and I pet her side as Aunt May comes over. “How’d I do?”

“Sorry, was trying to keep Maple and Syrup occupied so they didn’t disturb, but from the little I saw, you did amazing.”

May nods and starts scratching Maple behind her ear. “They want me to maybe come in and do a live interview.”

“Really?” I ask, giving her a smile. “That’s great!”

Aunt May beams, looking around. “They’ll probably only air a minute of it, but yeah, we could use the attention. Donations are starting to run thin, so it’s coming at a good time. We’ll get by, though. We always do, so don’t worry. How’s Tiff doing?”

“Crazy as ever,” I reply, standing up and watching as Maple and Syrup wander off to find more folks willing to rub their bellies. “She told me to send you her love.”

“Hmmph . . . she could’ve come in and said hi, you know.”

I laugh and point across the room to the dozen or so cats May’s currently taking care of. “No way you’ll get Tiff in the door back here. Unless you want her high from all the Sudafed.”

May grumbles. “And Stella? How’s she doing?”

I shrug, keeping my hands busy by putting away the supplies cluttering a tabletop. “She’s okay, but to be honest . . . I think she’s going through . . . well, let’s just say she’s been complaining about being hot and sweating hard the past few weeks. Last night, she looked like she was taking a shower half the night.”

May shakes her head. “Bless that woman’s soul. I’m glad that time of life is past me. Lord, my flashes were so bad I thought I’d been dipped in gasoline and set on fire. And my hoo-hah itched like I had fire ants in there.”

“Aunt May!” I gasp, shocked. “TMI!”

May shrugs, grinning. “Just being honest. Give Stella my regards when you see her.”

“I will. So, where do you need me today?”

“We’ve got a new puppy I’d like you to work with. He’s a bit rowdy, needs some TLC to calm down before he can socialize with the other critters or be eligible for adoption.” Her voice trails off, and I can see her to-do list rolling through her head.

A little TLC. Something I was lucky to have, I think to myself.

May peers closer at me, seeing me lost in my thoughts. “Is everything all right with you? I know things are different now with you having a place with Tiff and all, but I worry about you sometimes.”

“I’m fine,” I say, shrugging. “Really.”

“You’re lying to me, girl. Or you’re lying to yourself,” May says, but her tone is kind. “You know, Dolly says not to live a lie, so tell me what’s going on.” I smile at the way she throws Dolly-isms and lyrics into regular conversation, knowing I’ll get the reference.

May leads me to the door to the outside, where we find the other half of the dogs playing in the big open half-acre space that makes up the exercise area. Carefully avoiding the ‘dog presents,’ I find enough guts to talk. “Tiff has been hounding me . . . telling me I need to date, or at least find a guy to hang out with.” I’m close to Aunt May and she’s definitely cool, but I’m not crass enough to tell her that Tiff told me to get laid.

May chuckles, and I’m almost certain she caught my meaning, but she continues on as if we’re talking about actual dating. “That fool girl, bless her heart. Honey, you find a man when you’re good and ready, for whatever you’re ready for.”

I giggle at the look on May’s face as she wiggles her eyebrows at me. “Can you believe she took me to a palm reader?”

“A palm reader?” May asks as the dogs bark and play in the background. “Let me guess, she told you that you’d meet Prince Charming and make whoopee pies?”

“I think that’s what Tiff intended, but things definitely did not go according to plan.” I give the quick version of what happened with Marie and her creepy prediction as May hangs on every word. “So we hightailed it out of there as Tiff gave her a piece of her mind.”

“Good, so many charlatans out there. Don’t believe a word of it.”

I hug myself, shivering despite the warm weather, and look over at her. “I know . . . but Auntie, I met a guy last night.”

“Ooh, did you now?” she asks, sounding interested. “Tell me.”

I nod and tell her all about my night at the bar, Scott and his tattoo, and how I kicked him out. I leave out the part about him making me cream myself on his thigh. “I just can’t believe that she said I would get stung by a scorpion, and then I met him.”

May laughs. “Well, did he sting you?”

“Pardon me?” I reply, shocked.

“Did the guy sting you?” May asks, using her fingers to show me exactly what she means. “With the stinger all men got between their legs?”

I laugh. That’s Aunt May, demure and crass all in the same conversation. “Of course not!”

“Then what she said was a bunch of this,” she says, kicking a petrified dog turd with her boot. “Damn, gonna need those three out here after they’re done inside.”

“I don’t know. It scared me,” I admit. “You know I don’t believe in that stuff. But I don’t—”

“You like him.”

I stop, turning to May to make sure I didn’t just hear a hallucination. “What?”

May gives me a measuring look, and since she’s not one to bullshit, I brace myself as she speaks. “I can tell by the way you’re talking and I can see it in your eyes. You were interested and that scares the bejesus outta you.”

I want to argue, but it’s the truth. Scott was interesting and challenging, not to mention hot as hell. And he worked my body like a master. I can only imagine what he could do with our clothes off. And though it pissed me off that he jumped in to save me, there’s a part of me that appreciated the gentlemanly gesture. I can’t believe that even after my freak-out, he waited to make sure I was safe. That was truly above and beyond, and it made me feel . . . worthwhile. I haven’t felt that way in a long time from a man, and Scott had barely even met me, but he was respectful enough to take care of me like I was precious.

But by now, he’s probably forgotten all about the bartender who ran hot and cold and left him with a serious case of blue balls. I’m embarrassed about how I acted and would rather avoid the situation than face it. “Well, it doesn’t matter now. I’ll probably never see him again. He probably thinks I’m crazy and have some serious mental issues. A rich guy like that doesn’t need a bartender adding drama to his perfect life.”

“We all got issues, honey,” May says, putting an arm around my shoulders. “You, me . . . even our little buddies here got issues. But you know what makes a good life? Admitting those issues, finding ways to work around them with the people who can add something to your life, and giving them a chance. And giving yourself a chance too.”

One of the new arrivals comes up and nuzzles against my leg for a scratch. I bend down to pet him, cooing, “Who’s a good boy?”

May chuckles as the dog’s tail wags so hard his butt wiggles. “And honey, you never know. Maybe the old coot was right and we’re just interpreting what she said wrong. It don’t have to be a bad thing . . . maybe she did mean ‘stinging’ the old-fashioned way.” She winks and points at her nether regions again, a big grin on her face. “Girl, some things in life are just meant to be, and you gotta enjoy them while you can.”