Chapter Eleven
Camden
Skinbad, we soon discover, has strong feelings about car rides.
“Just sit on my lap,” Dot pleads.
We agreed that she should ride in the back seat so that she could keep an eye on both dogs. Bo’s doing exactly what I would have expected: she’s draped across the other two seats alongside Dot with her head in Dot’s lap, watching the landscape pass by outside the windows with mild interest.
Skinbad, however, is going ballistic. At first, he was content to stand with his front paws up on the door and his back paws braced against Dot’s thigh, with his naked noodle of a tail wagging for all it was worth. All the while, he screamed the song of his people.
To call the sound Skinbad makes a ‘bark’ would be to misclassify the unholy wail issuing from his open mouth.
His endless shrieking makes me wonder when—or if—he stops for air.
He’s now taking his psychotic performance art to the next level by darting back and forth between the windows at top speed, trampling across Dot’s legs and Bo’s ribs in the process.
“Do you think he hates us?” I ask over the shrieking. “Or is he having the time of his life?”
“He’s happy, I think?” Dot shakes her head. She tries to grab Skinbad on his next pass, but he’s too nimble for the likes of her.
“If he’s going to be doing this for the next six hours, maybe we should get you a pair of earplugs.
” I remember seeing a billboard for some sort of “Welcome to Reno!” tourist attraction on the way in last night.
We can give the dogs a chance to pee, grab something to eat, and find some earplugs for her.
Or a tiny tranquilizer gun for us to use on Skinbad. Either works.
By the time we reach the exit for the tourist center, my ears are ringing. The sound is like tiny icepicks digging into my eardrums. With the sensory issues that accompany my ADHD, certain high-pitched frequencies hurt my brain, Skinbad’s screaming is well within that range.
I park at the back of the lot, away from the highway, next to a grassy strip reserved for dogs, with a swathe of scraggly pine trees beyond it.
I reach for my door handle. “I’ll come grab Bo, if you want to walk—”
“Skinbad!” Dot cries. The moment I open the door, the little dog vaults between the seats. He catapults himself, pelting over the grass and into the trees beyond.
“Shit!” My stomach drops. She trusted me with her new dog. If he ends up roadkill, I’m finished.
I fling myself out of the door after him. I don’t want the little guy to get hurt, and I definitely don’t want to get downgraded from “a good kisser” to “the asshole who lost my new dog.”
“Skinbad!” I shout. But that’s a new name, one that will mean nothing to his tiny canine brain. I try calling again. “Krusty? Krusty, come back!”
By any name, this dog has zero recall. Despite my significantly longer legs and excellent cardiovascular health, I can barely keep up. Viktor would approve of Skinbad’s tactics. This is a flab-free workout routine.
Skinbad vaults up a boulder and stands there, looking back at me over his shoulder as he wags his tail.
“What a fun game!” I call. “You win. You can come back now.”
Skinbad does not come back. He disappears behind the pile of rocks. I swear to myself and take off after him.
I skirt the right of the rocks and make my way down to the stretch of flatter ground beyond. Skinbad barks and hops around a low shrub, nipping at the leaves and growling.
“Come here, troublemaker.” I make a grab for him. He feints to one side. My fingers slide along his bare skin, but he’s too quick. Now I see why Coach went for old dogs in the past.
Whatever’s in the bush is holding his attention. He noses forward, then darts back, yapping like he’s having the time of his life. I make another grab for him and end up on all fours in the dirt.
“How are you so fast?” I demand.
Skinbad wags his tail. He noses at the bush again.
Something inside makes an odd noise—he’s probably got a critter of some type cornered in there.
I make one final lunge and tackle Skinbad.
From the sounds he makes when I scoop him up, you’d think I was murdering him.
His long nails dig into my shoulder, and he almost succeeds in his fresh escape attempt.
I twist around to get a better grip on him with both hands.
I end up flat on my back with Skinbad clutched to my chest, wailing like a banshee.
Success. The escape artist is safe, and I’m not going to end up on Dot’s shit list. The day is saved.
“Camden!” Dot crests the hill with Bo trotting beside her. She lets out a little cry of relief when she sees Skinbad in my arms. “Oh, you got him! I thought bringing Bo would help lure him back.”
As soon as they’re close enough, Bo sniffs Skinbad, who immediately goes limp in my arms. He licks her nose.
She licks back, though given the tongue-to-face ratio of the two of them, I’m pretty sure she licked his eyeballs, too.
Satisfied that her small friend is in one piece, she loses interest in me and turns her attention to the shrub.
Dot crouches down. She’s holding the second, smaller leash that the shelter gave us, so that she can clip it to Skinbad’s collar. “There,” she says. “No more escaping, young man!”
I release Skinbad. He pops up to climb off of me and get back to his original business: annoying the living shit out of whatever’s hiding in the shrub.
“Oh, jeez.” Dot covers her mouth with both hands. “He really did a number on you.”
“He’s got moves. Slipped right past my defenses.” I grin and hoist myself upright. I’m covered in mud, front and back. Dot tries to help dust me off, which isn’t effective but does result in her running her hands over my torso. It’s a decent reward for the effort I’ve put in.
She catches me watching her and smiles shyly. With both palms braced against my chest, she stands on her tiptoes.
I bend down for a quick kiss, though I want more. Maybe not when I’m muddy and she’s wrangling two dogs, though. Even the softest press of her lips against mine quiets my runaway thoughts.
Her eyes flick up, then down. It’s not embarrassment, not really. Just the quiet awareness that we’re different now. That we keep doing this—touching, then pretending we didn’t.
Dot pulls away quickly with cheeks flushed scarlet. “Come on, everyone, back to the car.”
The dogs won’t budge. Bo sticks her long nose through the branches of the shrub. I catch a flash of black that bops her nose. Now that things are less frantic, I can hear the tiny hiss that accompanies the motion.
“What is that?” Dot asks.
“I thought it was a rodent, but…” I squat down to peer into the foliage. “They don’t hiss, as far as I know.”
“Do you mind taking a look?” Dot asks. “It sounds like a cat.”
In the immortal words of Admiral Akbar, I have a bad feeling about this, but I’m already covered in mud. I lie down and squirm under the branches of the shrub until I can see the miniature, mostly black kitten that’s spitting at Bo.
“Aw, come here, buddy.” I do the worm until I’m close enough to reach it.
Unlike Skinbad, the kitten doesn’t put up a fight once I’ve got her in hand. She cries as I maneuver her free.
“Aww!” Dot’s eyes go huge at the sight of the muddy fluffball cradled in my hands. “Poor baby!”
“She’s so skinny.” I pet the kitten’s back with one finger. “Where’s your mama? Huh? How come you’re on your own?”
The kitten weighs almost nothing. I can feel her little heartbeat against my palm. She latches one mouth onto the tip of my finger and sucks furiously.
Her ribs flutter under my fingers. The sound she makes is smaller than a breath, and it hits somewhere I didn’t know was unguarded.
“She’s hungry.” Dot’s bottom lip trembles. “And she’s lost her mom. Cam…”
Dot says she’s too much. Too loud, too soft, too anxious, too stubborn. But she rescued a naked hell-dog with a leash and a whisper, and now she’s advocating for this mangy kitten. Somehow, I want every version of her exactly as she is.
This time, I don’t try to talk sense into her. I want to shout, “Fuck you, cat distribution system! Not the time!” but I don’t. Instead, I say, “The kitten comes with us. We’ll have to see if the visitor center has anything she can eat, though.”
The five of us trudge back to the car. The sky has darkened; it looks like it could rain at any minute.
“Maybe I should stay out here,” I suggest. “Let the rain wash some of the mud off.”
“You know, some travel centers do have showers, if you want to check?”
“Nah, I’ll wait. It’s not like I have anything clean to change into.”
“How about you stay in the car, and I’ll go inside. I want to look for a souvenir for this trip, anyway.”
“We have three souvenirs.” I nod to the kitten. “This one isn’t even named yet.” After eyeing her for a minute, I say, “She’s black as fireplace residue. She shall henceforth be named Soot Beck.”
Dot tilts her head to the side. “You’re keeping her?”
“You’ve got your hands full with those two.”
Dot puts the dogs in the back seat, while the kitten, who’s still sucking on my fingers, sits up front in my muddy lap. As soon as she walks away, both dogs try to get in the front seat with me. They’re obsessed with Soot, who wants nothing to do with them.
I elbow Bo back into the rear half of the car for the third time. “So, do you think they have any other animals in there? I mean… what are the chances that I leave her unattended and she comes back with a hermit crab, or a lizard? Maybe this was a bad idea.”
“List complete,” a woman’s voice says from the back seat. I jump so hard I nearly swallow my own tongue. Did someone climb in here when we left the car alone?
“What the—?”
“Vet appointments should be made at the earliest possible convenience. Dog registration tags are required in our area. Flea and tick medication should be applied year-round, and Bordetella—”
“Mira?” I ask.
The voice falters. “Yes, Camden?”
I’m relieved that there’s no stranger here, but Mira freaks me out a little. “Hey, did Dot turn you on?”
“Of course. She needed me to stay organized.”
“I could help her organize,” I mutter.
“Clearly not. After all, you’re the one who allowed three animals in the vehicle.”
I wonder how upset Dot would be if I allowed Mira to escape into the woods the way Skinbad tried to? It’s tempting. “Seriously? You know Dot. How could I say no to her?”
“And Dot knows me. Why else would she keep me turned off until the transactions were completed? I say no all the time. But I can see how this would be challenging for you, since you have feelings for Dot.”
My throat goes dry. I should deny it, but the AI doesn’t need proof. It’s written all over me. So I aim for humor instead and miss by a mile.
That makes me twist around again. Soot mewls. The dogs are both sniffing Dot’s backpack, where Mira is tucked away. Skinbad growls at the bag. You and me, both, kid.
“How do you know about that?”
“I don’t need eyes to see you like her. Besides, your friend alluded to your attraction to her. Unlike Dot, I have no reason to question the obvious interpretation of his so-called ‘joke.’”
“Okay, well, my eyes can see that she’s on her way back to the car. Let’s change the subject, shall we? How’s that list of care requirements coming?”
“The list is complete,” Mira announces.
The first drops of rain hit the windshield as Dot flings herself into the back seat.
She holds up her bag of goodies. “Perfect timing! I’ve got everything.
For the kitten…ah, Soot.” She digs through her purchases until she finds a small foil-wrapped bundle.
“The folks making to-go-orders sold me some shredded, unseasoned chicken. See if she’ll eat that. ”
The dogs sniff the parcel as it changes hands, but their enthusiasm is nothing compared to the ferocity with which the kitten tears into her meal. The lump of chicken meat is almost half as big as she is, but she chokes most of it down in a matter of seconds.
“Looks like that was a hit.” Dot rests her elbows between the seats, both to body-block the dogs and to watch her newest pet eat.
“Next up: I got us matching bracelets.” She hands one to me.
It’s a beaded design with RENO spelled out in all caps.
“I was gonna grab a pair with our names on them, but there was no Camden.”
“There never is.” I hold out my wrist for Dot to snap the bracelet in place. It’s a little loose, but I promise myself that I’ll never take it off. “Are they friendship bracelets?”
She blushes a little. “I was thinking they might be more-than-friendship bracelets?”
She tries to make it sound light, but her voice wobbles. Her fingers fumble with the clasp, and I catch the tiniest tremor before she hides her hands in her lap. She’s braver than she knows, sitting there pretending she didn’t just hand me her heart spelled out in beads.
Yup, it’s official, I’m going to be buried with this thing. “I’d like that.”
“Great.” Dot coughs. “So, that’s gonna make this last gift a tiiiiny bit awkward. I got you a shirt, since you ruined yours chasing Skinbad…” She removes a t-shirt from the bag and hands it to me. It’s the familiar green and purple of the Vegas Venom.
“Ha! Perfect.” I shake the jersey out. “I’m surprised they had these here.”
“Well, the selection was limited.” A mischievous smile makes her lips twitch. “Which is why I had to get you that particular one. It was the only number they had.”
I turn the shirt around and swear. Dot cackles with glee. I’m going to be stuck driving home wearing Viktor Abbott’s number. If he finds out that Dot got me this, I’ll never live it down.
An hour later, the rain drums a tattoo on the roof of the car.
I glance up at the rearview mirror and see Dot, with my muddy shirt folded inside-out in her lap as a makeshift bed for Soot.
Skinbad is curled up against Bo’s belly.
The bigger dog is stretched out across both seats. All four of them are sound asleep.
I smile and start to sing under my breath. I have to stay attentive if I’m going to keep my family safe on the long drive home.
It’s the same quiet from the hotel room—the one I never wanted to end.
My brain’s been buzzing since we left the shelter, ricocheting off cliffs and barked orders and kitten claws. But now? All I hear is the hum of the road. The patter of rain. The sound of her breath, soft and steady behind me.