Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Flynn
Just as we park at the vet’s office, my phone chimes with a text from Rupert.
Callie forgot to mention Lenny is an asshole. Great vet. Fantastic with animals. Terrible with humans. Don’t take anything personally.
I chuckle, showing June the text.
She giggles. “Good to know.”
I grab Loki’s crate from the back seat of my car, and we head into the tiny brown building that looks like an old, single-story brick house.
“Hello?” I call. There’s no one at the desk.
We sit in the two chairs by the fish tank. June grins. It’s a tight, goofy grin, like we’re not allowed to talk. Just us and the bubbling of the fish tank.
“You’re here,” a man says.
We turn toward him as he steps into the waiting room. He looks to be in his early thirties with brown hair in a preppy (floppy) style. Boring khaki pants, and a red and white plaid shirt.
“Yeah,” I say, standing.
“Well, you should have said something. I came in just for you.”
Yep, he’s an asshole.
“I did say something.” We step toward him.
“Well, you must not have said it very loudly.”
“Probably the white noise from the fish tank,” June says with a hint of sarcasm.
God, I love her.
“How do you know the Rawlings? Mrs. Rawlings called you a friend. You seem a little young to be her friends.”
We follow Mr. Personality to the exam room. Seems a little ageist of him to suggest she can’t have young friends.
“I’m her muse,” I say.
He holds open the door as we step past him. “What does that entail?”
I set the crate on the exam table while June sits in the chair beside it. “I have an inspirational gift. It’s hard for average people to understand.”
“His giftedness is rare and highly sought after,” June adds with a sharp nod.
I stare at her for a second, fighting my smirk.
“His great uncle is a shaman,” she continues. “A muse is a spiritual healer who deals solely with spiritual connections of the living.”
Dr. Schreiber eyes us for a few seconds before opening the crate. “Hello, little kitty. What’s your name?”
“Loki,” I say. “And I’m Flynn. This is June.”
Thanks for asking, Mr. Personality.
He frowns at me before smiling at the cat. Oh, was he actually asking Loki to speak? Or are our names irrelevant?
“What’s been going on?” he asks.
June and I look at each other.
Dr. Schreiber eyes us. “Well?”
I guess Loki can’t tell him that. Just his name.
“He vomited five or six times, and it looked like it had some blood in it. And his breathing seemed a little labored. Not as much now,” I say.
“It looked like it had blood? Or it did have blood in it?”
This is Rupert and Callie’s neighbor, so I bite my tongue and the painful urge to be a dick to this asshole. After all, people who don’t know cars might assume all dark colored leaks are oil, but it could be transmission fluid, power steering fluid …
“It was red. That’s all I know,” I say.
He starts checking Loki with a stethoscope, then looks into his ears and mouth, and presses around on his belly. “Did you get a sample?”
June wrinkles her nose.
“No,” I say.
Dr. Schreiber doesn’t look at us. “Did you take a picture?”
June’s eyes widen while curling her lips between her teeth.
He puts on a glove and squirts lubricant on the finger. Then he slides the tip of it …
Nooo …
I didn’t need to see the butthole exam.
“No,” I say to his question.
Dr. Schreiber looks up at me. It’s the are-you-fucking-kidding-me look, but he doesn’t say those words. He doesn’t say anything.
Rupert was right. This guy smiles at Loki. Pets him. Scratches behind his ears. But I think he wants to murder June and me. Or at least me.
“What did the blood look like?” he asks.
Don’t say it!
“Blood,” I say, unable to stop myself. Now I’m just fucking with him.
He looks at me with a familiar expression, like I’m the dumbest person in the world.
June hides her snort with a fake cough.
“Was it bright red or dark like coffee grounds?”
“Neither. More like medium to light red,” I say, earning myself a deeper frown.
“When did it start?”
“Dunno. We were at the house for a while before June noticed we hadn’t seen Loki yet.”
“Well, how long had it been since someone saw him?”
“Dunno. I picked up June. We ate pizza in the car. The Rawlings said we could hang out at their house. June plays the cello. She’s pretty fucking amazing.” I add that bit just to mess with him. “I don’t know what time they left, or when they last saw Loki.”
“How often was he vomiting?”
This dude can’t read between the lines. We found the cat. We found vomit. The end. That’s all we know.
“Dunno. Didn’t see it happen.”
“Was there blood in all the vomit or just some of it? Suggesting there was blood at first but then no blood or vice versa.”
I refuse to answer, and he stops short of an actual eye roll.
“Do you know if he might have eaten anything unusual like a foreign object, a toy, plants, human food?”
I bite my tongue and shake my head.
“Did you happen to see any bottles like he got into someone’s medication? Cleaning supplies? Anything like that?”
Again, I shake my head.
Loki lies on his side and starts to purr. Great. He’s probably fine, and this guy thinks we’re wasting his time.
“Did the Rawlings mention if he’s had any recent change in diet?”
“I’ve seen her give him the same food since she adopted him. Some food that says ‘human grade’ on the outside. He seems to enjoy it. So if she changed his food, she did so since his first meal today. I can text her to ask.”
Dr. Schreiber slowly shakes his head, focusing on Loki.
“I’ll draw some blood just to rule out anything serious.
Then he can have water, but no food for twelve hours.
Have Mrs. Rawlings call me with an update or if there are any changes.
When she starts him back on food, make sure it’s something bland like small amounts of boiled chicken.
If anything changes, he’ll need to come back in for imaging to check for obstructions or tumors.
But after examining him, I don’t see any cause for concern.
So let’s monitor him.” He continues to pet Loki.
“And make sure he doesn’t get into anything. Okay?”
Okay? He’s not my cat. Does this guy really think I’m going to sternly warn Callie about keeping a close eye on him?
“Thank you,” June says while I have a stare-off with the doctor.
He won’t even look at June. If this guy doesn’t give her attention, not so much as a smile or nod of acknowledgment, then he’s whacked. That’s all there is to it.
Thirty minutes later, we leave with a purring cat. Normal blood work. And the look on Dr. Schreiber’s face is less than friendly, like we made everything up.
“Entitled son of a bitch,” I mumble, when we get into the car, and I text Callie.
Flynn: On our way back to the house. Loki is fine
“I’m sure he wasn’t happy about an after-hours call,” June says, fastening her seat belt. “That doesn’t necessarily make him entitled.”
“All rich people feel entitled.”
Callie replies with a thumbs-up before I back out of the parking spot.
“That’s a little harsh. I think Callie and Rupert are very nice people.”
“I’m not saying entitled people can’t be nice. But they hired me as a muse. That’s a big, fucking privilege money buys you.”
As I pull onto the street, I feel June’s gaze on me, so I give her a quick glance.
Then I sigh. “Tell me I’m wrong. Name one person you know who has money, but you’d never know they had money?
They live like us. Drive an old beater. I mean, I got my first paycheck from the Rawlings, and my head spun with possibilities.
It was like a drug. Do you know what I mean? ”
She twists her lips and nods several times.
“Yeah,” she murmurs. “I do. I just don’t want you to ever feel like Callie and Rupert aren’t good people.
We’re all human. We’re all flawed. Everyone deals with temptation at some point.
Focusing on the things we have in common more than our differences just feels like a better, more peaceful, way to live. ”
I squeeze her hand. “I like them. I just don’t want to be them.”
“I love you, Flynn,” she says, in a sad tone, looking out her window.
When we arrive at the house, Callie comes out the front door before I even get the crate from the back seat. She’s barefoot in a fancy silver sequin dress.
“Someone’s a little anxious,” I say to June.
She closes the door after I have the crate, then she rests her hand on my back. “Don’t forget why you were hired. She’s still grieving the loss of her grandson. I’m sure the idea of her kitten dying is unsettling.”
As we reach the end of the driveway, Callie opens the crate and takes Loki out. “Hey, buddy.” She kisses his head. “Thank you. I owe you two so much,” she says, leading the way back to the house. Her hair is pulled back, and she’s wearing makeup. I’ve never seen Callie in makeup.
“You don’t owe us anything,” I say.
June hugs my arm, looking up at me with an approving smile. She must be like Callie, or maybe all women love manners. I’ve always thought they were overrated. Acting a part. Not always genuine. Yet, I’ve come to like the little smiles both of these women give me when I do something polite.
“Kids,” Rupert says slowly, sauntering into the foyer from the kitchen, a drink in one hand, a sandwich cookie in his other. He’s in a tux with the bowtie undone. “Oh, thank goodness,” he says to Callie. “I’m so glad that cat didn’t die.”
She rolls her eyes at him before focusing on us while sitting on the stairs with Loki hugged to her chest. “I called Lenny to thank him for meeting you there. He got me up to speed on everything.”
“What did you think of Dr. Schreiber?” Rupert asks.
I pause for a second, distracted by June sliding her arm across my back and slipping her hand into my back pocket. “Uh,” I clear my throat, “he was nice to Loki.”
Rupert chuckles. “And you?”
“Rupert,” Callie says, shaking her head at him like a silent scolding. “He did us a favor. Let’s not be mean.”