Chapter 9

Brooke

I sit behind the counter at Bark Buddies, my feet dangling from the stool. So far, the day has been pretty slow. As the lunch hour approaches, I’m not even sure what I’m in the mood for. Yesterday, I brought in a peanut butter and jelly sandwich from home. This morning, time got away from me before I could pack my lunch. I hit the snooze button one too many times. Ever since Super Douche Landon, I haven’t been sleeping well.

I head over to the little kitchenette and open the fridge. There’s bottled water and some coffee creamer. Way in the back, I notice tuna casserole leftovers in a plastic container. I know it’s probably Pam’s, but I’m sure she won’t mind if I help myself. And even if she does, I’ll deal with it. My stomach protests louder by the second.

I open the container and gag at the putrid smell. There’s a little layer of mold on top of the pasta. Gross! I dump the rotten food into a Ziploc bag and throw it into the sealed garbage can. Then, I soak the empty plastic container with plenty of anti-bacterial dish soap and spray air freshener like a woman gone mad.

I open the drawer, grab a few carry-out menus, and make my way back to the front of the building. There’s a great Italian restaurant that delivers, but despite my hunger, I don’t think I can devour a whole pizza, not even a small one.

I’m torn between Jimmy Johns and Theresa’s. As much as I love a quick sandwich, it’s chilly outside so I really don’t want cold cuts. I need something hot and spicy. Picking up the phone, I order a chicken burrito. The hostess says it will take about forty-five minutes for delivery. My stomach grumbles. She might as well have said it will take forty-five hours. I thank her and hang up the phone. I don’t like the wait time, but at least the portions are good. I’ll have enough for lunch and dinner.

At the chime of the door, I look up just as a woman walks in. It takes me a few seconds to recognize that it’s Pam. I blink rapidly as I take in her new honey blonde hair color that’s been styled stick straight. The new haircut has layers and wispy bangs. It looks cute, but I think she looked better as a brunette.

“Ta-dah!” Pam grins and runs her fingers through her new do. She spins around. “It’s the new and improved…me!”

“It’s gorgeous,” I say. Pam’s my best friend. I feel I can tell her anything, except my honest opinion about her hair. That’s a no-no. I don’t want to hurt her feelings.

“I decided to try something different before my hot date with Quinn tonight. I’m gonna blow his mind!” Her backpack hits the counter with a resounding smack.

Fighting the desire to tell her she should tell Quinn to fuck right off, I give my bestie another once over. “I’m sure he’ll like what he sees.”

“You’ve got to keep things fresh in a relationship. I’m even thinking about taking that pole dancing class at the dance studio.”

I imagine the length of Pam’s legs as she does a mid-air split, her new honey hair scraping the floor. She’s so much braver than I’ll ever be. “Seriously?”

“Of course, silly. If you want to make your man happy, you have to be his everything. A lady out in public and his filthy bitch between the sheets.”

My gaze falls on the spot Pam’s backpack occupies in front of me. I wonder if she’s got some fuck-me heels in that damn suitcase. “I hear what you’re saying. But I don’t think it’s possible to be anybody’s ‘everything.’ That’s a high bar, you know?”

“I want the ring before summer rolls around. A big diamond from D. Copperfield. So big they have to order it in.”

“You’re really ready to walk down the aisle?” I narrow my eyes at her. We’re getting older, but we’re not ready for the rest home yet. We’re sure as hell not ready to settle. At least I’m not. “Give up the single life?”

Pam shrugs and grabs a bottle of water from the fridge. “What else is there to see and do? Who else is there to see and do?”

“Once you’re off the market, you’ll never know,” I mutter. While I feel more confident in my thirties than I did in my twenties, I’m still not ready to speak my whole truth. Maybe that’s for my forties.

“What market? I’m tired of the single scene. I’ve been ready to get married for a long time. I sometimes question Quinn’s readiness, but I think I can get him there…give him a nudge in the right direction.”

I lean back and consider those words. “So, you think that hair dye and hot sex will make him propose?”

“Absolutely. Men are very simple creatures. Their cock…their gut. Not necessarily in that order.”

I laugh, but it falls flat. That’s not the life I want. “You’ve got it all figured out. I know it’s gonna take me awhile–”

“Brooke, that’s by design. You never give any guy a chance. You let Chad go for no apparent reason.”

She’s wrong about that. “He didn’t make time for our relationship.”

She rolls her eyes. “He’s a busy man. It’s not like he’s sitting at home twiddling his thumbs. He’s an equity partner at a top law firm. You have to be more patient.”

I don’t give a flying fuck about his career status. He screwed up. End of story. “He forgot my birthday.”

“Chad was a real douche for that one, but you could’ve worked through that. He never cheated on you or disrespected you. And he was smoking hot. Do you know how many women would’ve purified themselves in Lake Minnetonka for a guy like that?”

I chuckle, but my mind drifts to the musical genius of the dearly departed. “Here we go with the ‘Purple Rain’ references.”

“The point is that you need to be more understanding, Brooke.” She leans in and takes one of my hands. “Come on. I know you’d like to walk down that aisle someday soon too.”

I shake my head in defiance. “Only if it’s right.”

“There’s a difference between right and perfect.”

“I’m not a perfectionist. I just have high standards. Is that such a crime?”

“Of course not.” She blinks at me and drops my hand. It thumps down to the marble countertop between us.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” she asks.

“It’s not that I can’t overlook a few flaws, it’s just that–”

She holds up her hand. “Poor Chad, he’s probably missing you like crazy.”

“I doubt that.” A shiver of annoyance runs through me. I’m about to admit I cyber-stalked my ex. The one I don’t want back. “I saw a picture on his Facebook page of him out on a date with Doreen Hansen.”

“As in captain of the cheerleading squad Doreen?” She waves her hand in the air, emulating a cheer. “Give me an S! Give me an L! Give me a U! Give me a T! What’s that spell!?”

I laugh straight through my lungs at Pam’s antics. “You know how I feel about slut shaming. Men sleep around all the time, and they never get a bad rap, but God forbid a woman–”

“Come on, Brooke.” She pulls her new hairdo into fake pigtails. “That girl’s got more miles on her than a Mack Truck. Wait a minute, you were randomly looking at Chad’s Facebook page. Why?”

I hesitate because I’ve been busted. “I…”

“You wanna get back with him!”

That couldn’t be further from the truth. Some perverse curiosity got ahold of me during a week moment. “No!”

“Yeah, you do, why else would you be checking out his Facebook page?”

“That’s not what I want. Not by a long shot. And if I ever did go out with him again, he would have to be tested for every disease known to man and have his dick doused in Lysol before I’d take that shit inside me again.”

She laughs and executes a perfect twirl. “Exactly. And you tried to put a guilt trip on me for slut shaming?”

I slumped and dropped my face in my hands. “You’re right, Doreen has been around. I can’t believe that Chad went from me to her. Kind of think that says it all, doesn’t it? Cheap and easy is what he’s looking for.”

“You didn’t give him a choice. He had to find someone. It’s hard for men to be alone. They don’t know how to function. In solitude, they go nutsy-cuckoo.”

“Yeah.” I think about Landon and his weird behavior. Maybe his wife is out of town or something? That would make sense. Pam’s hit the nail on the head, and Landon provides proof to the truth of her words.

The door chimes and the delivery man walks in holding a brown paper bag. “I have an order for Brooke.”

I smile and grab my wallet. “That smells delicious.”

“It sure does. I wish I would’ve known that you were ordering from one of my favorite restaurants,” Pam adds, both eyebrows raised to her hairline.

I turn to her. “There’s enough for us to share, if you want?”

“Knock yourself out.” She grins but shakes her head. “I’m saving my appetite for the steakhouse with Quinn tonight.”

I pay the delivery man and give him a tip. “Thanks,” he says and walks out.

I open the bag and grab my chicken burrito. Ripping off the top of the aluminum foil, I inhale the spicy scent as my stomach gives another loud protest at the late lunch. I open my mouth wide to take a bite but the phone rings. It’s a few inches away from me, but I’m way too hungry to answer the call.

“Can you please get that.” I beseech Pam with my eyes.

“No problem.” She walks over and grabs the receiver. “Bark Buddies Training, Pam speaking, how may I help you?” She pauses. “Hold on just a second please.” She presses the mute button on the receiver.

I bite into the scrumptious burrito, an explosion of flavor coating my mouth. I close my eyes and savor it.

“Brooke?”

I open my eyes. “Huh?” I say around the huge bite of food.

“There’s a guy on the phone who wants to talk to you.”

I swallow my food before answering. “Tell him I’ll call him back.”

“Well, he sounds kinda…” She pauses, scrunching up her face in search of the right word.

“What?”

“I don’t know how to describe it. He seems very impatient. Kinda pissy. I don’t know what his deal is.”

Dread straightens my spine. “Who is it?” I ask, setting down my fork.

“I’m not sure. He didn’t say his name, but he insisted on talking to you.”

I sigh as I wipe my messy fingers with the napkin. “Lemme talk to him.”

“I can force him to give me a message instead?”

“No, that’s okay,” I say, sliding from the stool. “This’ll only take a minute.” I pick up the phone. “Brooke speaking. How–”

“You need to get back over here and deal with these destructive little shits!” a man’s voice shouts.

“What?” The tone of my voice sounds pissed even to my own ears. Pam rears back and frowns at me. “Excuse me? First of all, I don’t allow customers to call here and be disrespectful. I can help you, but not until you calm down.” Then to rub it in, I ask, “Who is this?”

“It’s Landon.”

“Oh, don’t you mean Mr. Crabby Pants,” I quip, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. Hanging up…rather, slamming the phone down multiple times until it explodes into shards of plastic seems more appropriate than talking to this fuck. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“Now is not the time for sarcasm. This fucking dog just chewed up my signed copy of Great Expectations!”

I cluck my tongue, but frankly, my heart pumps piss for him. “I’m sorry to hear that, but that’s no reason for you to–”

“Did you not hear a word I said? This book is irreplaceable!”

“I said I was sorry. What else do you want from me, Landon?”

“For you to do your fucking job!”

“Watch your fucking language!” Pam’s eyes widen into saucers as she looks over at me. “If you want me to help you, you have to listen to me and follow my rules. That means no yelling and screaming. Especially at me.”

“But–”

“Those are my ground rules. Follow them, or else you can find someone else.”

He takes a deep breath, and I can imagine him mentally counting to ten before he begrudgingly acquiesces. “Okay.”

“I’m going to give you a set of rules to follow to train your dogs. If you deviate from that, then I can’t help you anymore, and you can kiss all of your precious things goodbye. Is that understood?”

“Yeah.” He pauses and a slice of fear bolts through me. With this guy, I have no idea what might be coming next, but I sure as hell don’t expect to like it. “I didn’t mean to blow up on you like that. I just...it’s a long story. That book means so much to me, and I almost lost it.”

“I get it. It happens sometimes since dogs don’t utilize logical thinking when they select things to chew. But it doesn’t have to happen again.”

For the first time in this conversation, he sounds almost human. “I hope not. I don’t know what I would do if–”

“Landon, you have to trust the process. Okay?”

The line falls quiet. After a few long seconds, I realize he’s probably considering how to eat a healthy serving of roasted crow. “Okay. So, when can you come back?”

“Next Thursday is my first opening,” I offer, not looking forward to it but putting the dog’s best interests ahead of my own. I like to think I’m a better person than he’s reduced me to.

“That sounds good. Thank you, Brooke.”

“And when I come back…”

“Yes?”

I want to say, “Don’t be a douche,” but instead, I say, “We’ll figure this out. Take care.”

“You too.”

I hang up the phone, fanning my flushed cheeks. Pam smiles and mimics me, saying, “Watch your fucking language! What was that all about?”

“Remember the guy with all of the Chihuahuas?” My mind goes through the photo album of Landon’s toy dogs.

“Yeah, the asshole who’s living in Mrs. Barrett’s house who spazzed out at the grocery store over Thin Mints? The famous author who turned out to be a total douchebag when you met him in person?”

“Bingo.” The arrogance he carries turns me on, despite my better judgment. Just talking to him floods my panties. He’s delicious. Talented. Surly. Rich. Well, screw him and his list of desirable qualities. He’s not for me.

He’s not.

“What about him?” Pam asks, her eyes searching mine.

“Well, he wants me to come back and try to train his dogs again,” I breathe, tamping down the telltale squeak in my voice.

“You’re gonna actually go through with it?” She sounds like I just told her I’m going to traverse Mount Everest when I can’t even climb Buck Hill.

“It’s not about him,” I argue, knowing in my heart it’s partly about him. And the way his jeans hugged his ripped thighs. I wonder what he’s packing down south. “It’s really about helping the dogs.”

“True.” Pam smirks after she says it. She’s on to me and she and I both know it.

“I will give this one more try.”

“Good for you, Brooke.”