Chapter 13 Ryder
RYDER
After Eve shows me around her property, I struggle to get the thought of her out of my mind. She’s just so damn adorable when she geeks out over her water wheel charger and excitedly tells me snippets of her childhood on the farm.
Adorable. Pretty. Determined. Fierce.
I like her more than I should.
But rather than obsessing over her, I need to focus on my main goal: getting my proposal approved.
Eve was probably not suggesting I figure out a way to deal with Reed’s rooster problem. In fact, I have no doubt there’s someone else on that council who wants this development project to go through who can take care of Reed’s rooster problem.
But I got caught in the crossfire, and I’m not particularly interested in waiting for someone else to deal with this problem.
So, I do a quick google search for property records with Reed’s name on them and plug the address into my GPS.
It takes me to a small residential street just off the main road with cookie-cutter single homes on reasonably sized lots—not quite reasonable enough for roosters, though—with white picket fences and brick facades.
The perfect all-American street.
And it doesn’t take me long to deduce the offending neighbor is the one just to the right with an array of kids’ bikes scattered across a lawn that could use a good mow and the edge of a chicken coop sticking out from behind the house.
I park the car along the street and head to the front door, knocking lightly and being immediately greeted by what sounds like at least three rambunctious dogs screaming at the other side of the door, several children notifying the family that someone is at the door, and a woman screaming for someone else to answer it.
The man who finally answers looks like he spends every day in a house of constant noise. Close haircut with bags under his eyes, dressed in sweatpants with a kid no more than three or four tugging on his leg.
“Can I help you?”
I nod. “I’m here to buy your rooster.”
And thanks to Eve’s double-entendres, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m propositioning this man.
“I’m sorry?”
“You have a rooster that crows very early, right? I’d like to buy your rooster and your agreement to not replace it with another.”
He shakes his head, moving like he’s going to close the door. “Look, my son’s class sent him home with a baby chick last year that turned into a rooster. It’s his pet. I’m perfectly within my right to own a rooster here.”
I hold up one hand. “Look, my name is Ryder Blackwell. I’m building a development next door to the sunflower farm and long story short, to get my development plans approved, I need you to sign an agreement to no longer own any roosters at this address,” I say.
He nods slowly, sizing me up. “I think I’ve seen you at town meetings.”
I nod. “I've been to far too many of them recently.”
He laughs. “Don’t I know it. I feel like I can’t get away from them with the asshole mayor next door,” he says, pointing with his thumb toward Mayor Reed’s house.
“Not exactly my favorite person, either."
He eyes me, undoubtedly wondering what his rooster has to do with my development plans. “Well, like I said, the rooster isn’t for sale. It’s my son’s pet.”
But he doesn’t close the door.
“You obviously care about your kids very much,” I say, nodding to the one still attached to his leg. “What if giving up the rooster ownership today means putting a dent in their college fund?”
He cocks his head to the side. “How much are you willing to pay for a rooster?”
“Five thousand?”
He eyes me. “That’s not much of a dent in college. I’ve got three, and they’re all smart. Too smart, if you ask me. There’s going to be a lot of college in this house.”
“Ten thousand?”
He glances behind me, and I kick myself for leaving my car right out in the open.
He raises his eyebrows.
“Twenty thousand and you sign an agreement to not get another rooster ever.”
He considers this for a moment. “Fifty.”
I snort. “Thanks for your time,” I say, and turn quickly on my heel.
“Alright, alright!” he shouts after me. “Twenty thousand, but just know that if your check bounces, I’m buying five more.”
I turn back to him. “My checks don’t bounce.”
He nods, gently pulling the small child off his leg and motioning for me to come inside.
Kids’ toys are scattered across the ground and a TV somewhere is playing a kids’ show. Above us, heavy thumps tell me playtime is occurring somewhere on the second floor.
“Let me just have my business manager send over a document for you to sign,” I say, pulling my phone out of my pocket and calling Sana.
I explain the situation to her and after a lengthy silence that tells me she’s judging me mercilessly, she agrees to pull something together for me in a few minutes based on a surprisingly similar contract she had to draw up when we realized a tenant in one of our Manhattan properties had taken to breeding alligators in the shared courtyard.
Thank god she’s a law school dropout, or I’m not sure she’d have a speck of an idea what to do with this sort of request.
And when I turn back to the man, I give him a quick smile. “Should be just a few minutes. Can I have her send it to your email?”
He nods, and I type out the address in a text to Sana.
And just as I press send, a thump rings out above us, followed by a kid bellowing, “We’re okay!”
The man shakes his head, pulling the child up into his arms and retreating into the kitchen to collapse onto a stool.
“All boys?” I ask.
He nods as the child burrows his face into his neck. “You have kids?”
“Not yet.” Not yet?
“Absolutely exhausting,” he says, letting out a long breath as he leaves a seemingly subconscious kiss on the head of the one he’s holding.
“To tell you the truth, I’m kind of relieved we have a reason to get rid of the rooster.
I’ll always protect what my kids want, but maybe this can teach them a lesson.
Education is more important than temporary enjoyment.
” He pauses. “And I’ll finally get a little sleep.
” He shakes his head. “You’ll treat the rooster okay? ”
I nod. “Not in the business of killing roosters. Just relocating them.”
“Where do you take them?”
Great fucking question. “The sunflower farm.”
He cocks his head to the side. “Really? I didn’t realize they had animals there. My wife loves that place.”
They don’t have animals there, do they? “They do now,” I say, doing my best not to let my panic show because I suddenly feel an intense obligation to make sure this rooster is being cared for.
And I have no idea how to do that because I didn’t come into this thinking I’d be rehoming a rooster. Just that I’d be fixing a problem.
He nods as his phone chimes and he gently maneuvers his child to get his phone out of his pocket. He lets out a long breath. “There it is.”
He clicks through a few times, then reaches into his other pocket for a wallet, taking a quick picture of his ID and sending it along with, presumably, the electronically signed agreement to not purchase another rooster.
I take my checkbook out of my pocket, write down a number with entirely too many zeroes for a rooster, and hand it over.
“Pleasure doing business with you,” I say, as he takes a moment to stare at the check in his hand.
He nods. “This is going to make my wife so happy. She’s been going on and on about saving money for college since the day our oldest was born.”
“My favorite kind of deal is one where everyone leaves pleased,” I say.
He laughs. “She’ll be even happier when she realizes the rooster is gone too.”
Just then, the kid in his arms starts whimpering and the man’s shoulders sag.
“I’ll get out of your hair,” I say, heading for the front door.
He nods, rocking the kid back and forth gently. “You okay with getting the rooster on your own? He’s in the coop out back. He’s friendly, doesn’t really mind handling but might be a little apprehensive if he doesn’t know you.”
I wave him off. “I’ll be fine. You guys have a good night.”
“You as well,” he says, diverting toward the staircase along the far wall of his kitchen.
I pull the door shut behind me as I step outside, and with a growing tightness in my chest, head around back to greet the rooster.
He clucks at me when he sees me, his little head moving back and forth as if he’s trying to get a read on who I am. I open the door to the chicken coop just enough to see him face to face without letting him become free range.
“How do you feel about taking a field trip to the sunflower farm?”
I reach out for him the same way I would greet a dog, and when I would normally expect a wet nose or a nice lick, I get a sideways look and a cluck.
“Are we friends?” I ask.
It turns its head to the other side.
“Are you shaking your head or just looking at me?”
It turns its head in the opposite direction.
“I really should have thought to bring a cage, huh?”
I swear it nods.
“How do you feel about BMWs?”
It clucks, and I take that to mean he’s a fan.
I reach toward him hesitantly and brush my fingers along his head, pleased to see him lean into the touch. He takes a step toward me, rubbing his head along my palm when I stop stroking him.
“Wow, you’re a nice guy, aren’t you?”
He cocks his head to the side.
“Can I pick you up?”
He only stares at me.
“I thought we had a nice rapport going on. No?”
He clucks again.
I let out a long breath. “Alright, here goes nothing.” I reach for his… not his bottom, but whatever part of the chicken is above his legs, and hoist him carefully out of the coop.
To my delight, he settles pretty easily into the crook of my arm.
He is a friendly rooster.
“I feel like I should buy you a beer or something,” I tell him, as I walk very carefully around the house. He rubs his head against my chest, and so help me god, I think I’m a little bit in love with this bird.
Before heading for my car, I take a quick detour to Mayor Reed’s house.
I ring the doorbell, giving the rooster a few gentle head strokes as we wait for him to answer.
Moments later, he does, wearing a bathrobe over a white T-shirt and presumably no pants.
“Ryder,” he gasps, tugging his bathrobe tighter across his chest. “What are you doing here?”
He eyes the chicken in my arms.
I nod to it. “Your neighbors have signed an agreement to never own a rooster again. So, I expect the town council meeting notes to reflect an approval of the submitted development plan.”
He rears back, waving his hands out in front of him. “Ryder, that’s not how this town works.”
I nod, turning and heading back to the house next door. “Okay. Well, in that case I guess I’ll head back next door to give your neighbors their beloved family pet back. I’m sure they’ll be happy to see him again.”
“Wait,” Reed says, taking another step out onto his front porch.
I turn back to him, one eyebrow raised.
“Fine.”
“Fine?”
He nods, his eyes drifting to his neighbors’ house.
He bites his lip, his nostrils flaring as his glare settles on me.
“This is only because it’s… already done, and I was going to update my decision anyway.
” He rests his hands on his hips. “But you’re going to need an easement for that driveway, you know?
But considering you and Ms. Harper are all buddy-buddy now, I’m sure that won’t be an issue. ”
I flash him a sardonic smile. “It won’t be an issue at all.”