Chapter Two
LYRIC
Our day’s been hectic.
We ran out of flowers as we knew we would, but nevertheless, we managed to get everyone at the Art Festival their arrangements, and the day’s been a success. Now, I’m on my way home with a goat in the back of my truck.
What in the world am I going to do with said goat? Who knows?
Should I take her to a vet and get her checked out for her little episode earlier in the day?
Or do I try to find her owners right away?
What is the correct goat protocol here?
Pulling up at my uniquely designed home on Ocean Way, I smile. I love how the architect Dad hired to build this place intended it to fit the look of the street. It still has a rock-star vibe, but also has some of me, which is what I want. It’s the most expensive house on the street.
Not that it matters to me, but it does to Dad.
He wants me only to have the best.
So that’s what I got.
The best.
Even though Dad wasn’t happy with me choosing to live here.
Dad wanted me somewhere more protected, like Irvine Cove or Emerald Bay, in some sort of gated community. But Laguna Beach is a class I’m more suited to.
I’m not like the rest of my family. I’m more down-to-earth and love the boho look.
My home has floor-to-ceiling windows, including a giant bay window in the living room that lets the morning sunlight in and a view of the ocean, giving my home its warmth for the day.
Fancy moldings decorate every wall, giving it a modern feel.
Artistic wall sconces lead the way down the hall in different shapes, colors, and textures, sending various sparkles of light in all directions.
I love the effect. It’s unique and so very me.
Tiffany lamps fill the spaces in the living room, a tip of the hat to the more affluent side of my life, and a centerpiece of cobblestone runs up the center of the outside facade.
But it is still quite different compared to the lavish mansions my family lives in.
The outside sensor light comes on. It’s a security measure my father insisted on having installed, as well as a patrol car driving by each night to check on the house and me.
Sliding out of my truck, I shift my neck from side to side, my body aching from the stress of a full day’s hard work. With quick steps, I walk to the back of the truck where Doughnut’s waiting at the tailgate, and just like before, she’s smiling at me.
I can’t fight back the giddiness as I lower the tailgate and untie Doughnut from her restraint, then hoist her into my arms. “C’mon, little Billy Goat Gruff, let’s get you inside. Gotta figure out what to do with you, huh?”
I lower Doughnut to the ground. She wobbles a little, but I keep my eyes on her.
The last thing I need is to chase after a runaway goat.
But she walks beside me smoothly to the front door.
Stepping inside, I flick on the lights as we go.
Doughnut’s little hoofs click and clop on the floorboards, making the weirdest sound as she stumbles through the house while bumping into random objects.
“Maybe you are vision impaired,” I mumble to myself as I lead her past the yellow armchair onto the plush carpet of the living room.
She lets out what sounds like a humming noise as if she’s pleased to be here, especially when her hoofs hit the soft gray floor covering.
She sniffs the air, taking everything in.
Doughnut’s beaming like she’s on the adventure of a lifetime.
This little goat is so adorable.
Maybe I could keep her?
No, that’s bad manners.
I should at least make an effort to find her owners. She’s someone’s pet, I know that for sure, and I also know her owners must be missing her terribly. I need to do the right thing and find her home.
“Well, Miss Doughnut, would you like to meet my housemate?”
Doughnut’s head shifts up. Baa.
“All right then. Follow me.”
She does so with ease while I walk with her through to the back sunroom. Through the windows, the sun is almost set, the last remnants fading behind the amber and dusty pink clouds hanging in the sky.
The sunroom is a long rectangular shape, perfect for entertaining friends, or if the option called for it, rock stars.
The glass ceiling lets you see the sky so clearly with see-through walls that look out to the backyard, which descend to the rocky shore of the ocean.
The sandy-colored patio shines against the glistening of the aquamarine swimming pool.
The California fan palms sway gently in the breeze, making the entire area seem something more like a scene from Hawaii than a backyard in Orange County.
The outdoor floors are covered in rich gold-textured white marble, giving it a cool feeling. White wooden sun lounges with tropical-themed beach towels draped over them are placed sporadically, with cute little side tables between, ideal for holding a refreshing cocktail.
I am all about cocktails.
It’s perfect for basking in the warm Californian sun.
I walk farther, Polly Parton’s sitting on his open-top play stand, the wooden swing still moving to and fro from the overhead bar, where he’s obviously been having a ride.
Evidence of his feast is scattered all over the bottom of his cage, while I turn up my nose at him in annoyance.
He brings his foot up to his mouth, pulling apart another sunflower seed.
Casually, he peeks up, noticing me, and drops the seed to the floor of his cage.
His green wings open wide in greeting as he stretches and then shakes his head vigorously, his usual ritual when he first sees me.
His feathers fluff up, making him seem bigger than he actually is.
He truly is a stunning parrot. The green and yellow plumage shimmer as he lets out a small whistling tune.
I gaze down at Doughnut to see her tilting her head from side to side in curiosity, but it actually looks like she’s dancing to Polly’s song.
My heart warms seeing the two of them getting along already. “Aw, you guys are friends,” I say, rubbing the back of Polly’s neck.
Polly flaps his wings, ready to screech. “Rawrr… fuuuck!” Polly screams at the top of his lungs, so loud it hurts my ears.
Doughnut jerks beside me with fright, while her eyes bulge out of her head like last time. Her legs poke out straight, and she topples over like a lead weight onto the carpet, stiff as a board.
I gasp while Polly cackles with laughter.
Glaring at Polly, I rush to my knees to assess Doughnut’s state.
Damn! This is the second time she’s… what? I don’t even know what the hell this is.
“Fuuuck!” Polly calls out again as I pet Doughnut’s fur.
What the hell do I do?
“C’mon, Doughnut. Wake up. Please,” I beg.
“Rawrr… asshole, asshole.”
“Polly, will you shut up? You’ve scared her to death.”
“Ha… ha… ha.”
I groan. “Nice sympathy for your fellow animal there, Polly,” I mumble as I continue to stroke Doughnut, hoping, like last time, with a gentle motion, that she will wake up.
“Piker!” Polly screeches.
“Shut. Up!” I yell in reply.
Suddenly, Doughnut’s head shifts. She glances at me, her face having the same smiling appearance she’s mastered so well. Her tongue comes out, licks up the side of my cheek again, and I can’t help but let out a relieved sigh. “What’s wrong with you, girl?”
She stumbles up on her legs and toddles off, bumping into the sofa, then plonks herself down on the carpet in the living room. She’s glancing out the big bay window as if she’s staring at the night taking hold over the ocean.
If the goat is blind, then how come she can see some things and not others?
Is Doughnut playing me?
I need to figure out what the hell is wrong with her and find her owners.
Do I need to take her to a vet or something?
Flicking my head around, I give Polly a death stare. “You, mister… you’re a very bad boy.”
“Rawrr… screw you,” he screeches back at me.
Rolling my eyes, I grunt, “Right back at you.”
I leave Doughnut in the living room. She seems content in there right now. So I fill up a water bowl and place it on the floor in the sunroom. Hopefully, she will know where to search for it. I’ll show her after I’ve looked up what the hell to do with a goat who passes out all the time.
After reaching for my laptop, I open the lid and start researching.
First, I type ‘goats + fainting.’
The search results have me lost on YouTube for the next two hours, and my stomach is in stitches. Who knew fainting goats were an actual thing? I mean, I know it’s probably not nice to laugh your damn ass off at a goat who faints at any loud noise, but really, this is more than a little hilarious.
Doughnut’s asleep, curled into a ball at my feet with a slight snore coming from her stinking mouth.
She is pretty damn cute. I guess a bad case of the faints is better than a congenital heart defect.
At least now I know I’m not going to kill her every time she keels over at any noise.
Now I can stop panicking and get back to the task at hand—finding her owners.
Though it is getting close to nine, and I have no way of knowing where to start with this. I suppose a single night with the goat wouldn’t be such a bad thing.
I know I’m delaying for my own personal reasons.
Somehow, I find myself attached to Doughnut.
And I don’t want to let her go just yet.
I am being totally selfish because her owners will be missing her like crazy.
But it is late, and I promise that in the morning, I will do everything in my power to find them. However, right now, after the day I’ve had, I need my bed and some sleep.
I’ve always been a romantic at heart, I guess that’s why I became a florist. To see love, people having a connection that truly means something.
I want that in my life.
But never in my wildest dreams could I imagine that special someone would be a fainting goat!
The Next Morning
Heavy eyelids keep me in a peaceful state.
My mind is zoning in that half-awake and half-asleep mode.