Chapter 9
9
My sister lands a devastating side snap kick that radiates through my bones. I counter it with an arm lock. She narrows her eyes, red billowing from the corners. I know that look.
She’s a bull in the ring, dead set on charging me. But I also know how to deflect because I’ve been taking this Sunday night class for as long as she has.
We parry and spar for several more minutes until the session ends.
The instructor strides over and squeezes Truly’s shoulder. “Well done. It’s almost as if you two wanted to kill each other for real,” Natalie jokes.
“You should see us when we get really mad,” Truly says.
Natalie laughs. “I’ll do my best not to incite your ire. But you guys are doing great.” She taps her chin. “We have a tournament coming up. My kids are doing it. You guys should do it too.”
Truly gives her a curious stare. “Are you saying you think I should fight your kids? Because I’m good, but I wouldn’t want to run into your kids in a dark alley. They’re tough.”
“As they better be. They have been practicing martial arts since they could walk. But think about it.” Natalie tightens her blonde ponytail. “After all, Jason is doing it,” she says, mentioning my best friend.
Truly’s navy eyes widen. “Jason’s in the tournament?” Her voice pitches up the slightest bit.
“Do I detect a note of interest in the tournament now?” Natalie asks with a tilt of her head.
“I second that question,” I say, raising my hand.
Truly scoffs, shaking her head. “My only interest is in kicking his butt. Speaking of, where is he tonight? Afraid of getting destroyed?”
“He’s at a wedding,” I answer. “But your interest in his whereabouts is duly noted.”
“Oh, please. As if that’s even a thing.”
Natalie chuckles softly. “Interest or not, think about the tournament. You’d be great, Truly.” She turns to me. “You’d be fine too, but I do want more awesome women showing up. Girl power and all.”
“You are the poster child for girl power,” Truly says admiringly, since Natalie teaches martial arts—she started in karate and moved to jujitsu recently—and also runs a construction business with her husband, one of our cousins.
“And on that note, this girl needs to get back out there,” Natalie says as the next class shuffles into the studio.
We leave, and I narrow my eyes, studying my sister. “So, tell me when this interest in my best friend began.”
“On the fifth of never.”
“You’re in the full-blown denial stage. Got it.”
“There’s no denial. It was merely a curiosity since he’s better at jujitsu than you, and I like to spar with people who make me stronger.”
I ignore the dig, savoring the chance to needle her. “So it’s safe to say it made you sad that he wasn’t in class today?”
“Sad that I couldn’t destroy him.”
My sister took up jujitsu a few years ago, dragging me along and saying any self-respecting single woman in New York City needed to learn a martial art. I agreed wholeheartedly, and I enlisted Jason to join us. He’s usually a Sunday night regular.
As we turn the corner onto Sixth Avenue, she shifts gears. “Are you ready for tomorrow?”
She knows the deal. I updated both Mom and Truly after the Friday night fiasco, otherwise known as My Big Lesson in Not Counting Chickens before They Hatch.
“I’m ready and eager for Sloane’s first day. It’ll be a walk in the park. A piece of cake. A cinch.”
She shoots me a doubtful stare. “I’m going to give you a week till you cave. You do know you have high levels of manwhore in you?”
I scoff. “Please. I’m no manwhore. I’m picky. I’m like those people at the farmers market who take a long time with peaches, apricots, and apples.”
She pats my cheek. “You’re cute with your fruit euphemisms. Like I said, you’re good for seven days. Wait. No. I’m being far too generous. Better make that a day.”
“While I appreciate your unerring faith in me, it’s unnecessary. I have a foolproof plan.”
“Do tell.”
“It’s easy,” I say as the sun dips in the sky. “I’ve been working on the necessary skills.”
“And those are?”
I mime putting on a pair of shades. “I’m going to look at her through a professional lens only. The same way I look at Jonathan or at Sam. That’s all there is to it.”
“Well, that ought to be a piece of cake. Wait, no. A cinch. Actually, make it a picnic.”
* * *
The trick is indeed about eyesight. It’s about how you see things, how you approach the task at hand.
Focus is literally everything.
It’s focus that got me through college with straight As. It’s focus that saw me through veterinary school at the top of my class. It’s focus that won me my first job, and it’s focus that brought me to where I am now—well-respected, successful, and with clients who have a high regard for how I treat their four-legged family members.
Today, I must be the best at resisting an irresistible woman.
As I head into work, I say hello to Jonathan and Sam, breathing a sigh of relief that Sloane isn’t in yet.
Jonathan and Sam give me eager what happened eyes.
“So? Am I making my special strawberry cupcakes with shots of frosting in the middle to celebrate?” Sam asks with a hopeful grin. “I baked them for my mom the other night, and even she liked them, and you know how picky that woman is.”
“She is the nit-pickiest,” Jonathan seconds, then stares at me, raising his thumb up then down, waiting.
They don’t dislike Doug, but the reality is they’re my people. I brought them on board, trained them, and worked closely with them to improve the practice. We have a rhythm to our day, an ease.
I sigh. “It’s not happening yet,” I say, then dive into a quick explanation of what went down.
“Does this mean Doug will be around more?” Sam sounds more concerned than I’d expected, maybe nervous too. “He was down to two days a week.”
“He’ll probably be here a little more often. Is that a problem?”
Sam gulps, shaking her head quickly. Too quickly. “No. It’ll be fine.”
I stare at her. “I don’t believe you.”
She glances around, making sure he’s not here. “It’s just that . . . well, I started when he was cutting back. I hardly see him, and when I do, it’s like running into the school principal. He’s so much older, and serious. I don’t know how to talk to him.”
Laughing, I lean against the wall next to her desk. “Just talk to him like you talk to clients. You’re great with clients.”
“Because they’re not the big boss!”
I tap my chest. “Hello! I’m your boss too. You talk to me just fine.”
“Because you hired us,” Jonathan puts in. “And despite your weird taste in music, you’re mostly a cool guy.”
“Gee, thanks. Also, old standards are not weird.”
“They’re kind of weird. But you know what I mean,” he adds with a casual shrug. “You’re easy to talk to.”
“Plus, you say yes to things like pizza Fridays, and you give us movie tickets,” Sam adds.
I blow on my fingers. “I am kind of amazing.” Then I take a more serious tone. “It’s going to be fine. I’ll still be here, we’ll keep working on our plans for the practice, and you can still ply me for movie gift certificates, and because I’m such a pushover, I’ll probably keep saying yes.”
Sam puts on a big, gleaming grin. “Cool. Can I also have a gift card for that new coffee house? Because they have awesome pour-overs.”
“You’re such a hipster,” I say, shaking my head. “Also, Sloane is twenty-nine, so she’s close to your age. I’m sure you can discuss your dubstep Scandinavian EMD music with her.” I shudder at the thought of such tunes.
Sam pumps a fist. “Yes! Woman power!”
“Look, the bottom line is this: we want you to be ruler of this place someday,” Jonathan says.
“And we’ll keep working toward that,” I say.
“And when you’re in charge of everything, can you pay for me to go to vet school? Pretty please?” Jonathan takes a quick breath, like he’s nervous to make this request.
But it’s a no-brainer. That’s exactly what my dad would do. I clap his shoulder. “If you stay on board, yes, I will do that.”
His eyes turn to moon pies. “Shit. Are you for real?”
“Sure. You’re damn good at this. I know you’ve been studying for vet school. It’s a huge undertaking, but incredibly rewarding, and I believe you’d be a great vet.”
“And you’d pay for it? Hell, I just threw that out there, just in case, but I didn’t think you’d catch it.”
I mime catching a ball. “Consider it caught.” I turn to Sam. “Who have we got today?”
Sam hands me a chart, chuckling under her breath. “Janice Clarke is worried that her dog Ruby is, well . . . she has this toy monkey and . . .” Sam whispers the rest of it.
I nod. “Ah, got it.”
Jonathan and I head into the exam room where Janice is wringing her wrinkled hands and pursing her lips.
“Hey, Janice. How’s our sweet Ruby-cakes today?” I ask, bending down to pet the wiggly dachshund mix.
“Oh, she’s fine, Dr. Goodman. She’s just fine. Except for one little thing.”
“What’s going on with Ruby?”
The woman’s cheeks turn cotton-candy pink. “She likes to, um, well, she likes to . . .” Janice lowers her head, takes a deep breath.
I pet Ruby’s back. “She has special feelings for this monkey? Is that it?”
Janice snaps up her gaze. “Yes! Exactly!”
I smile. “So you’ve got a dog who’s overly affectionate with a stuffed toy.”
“Yes,” Janice says, cringing. “But, Doctor, she won’t stop. She just keeps going at it. She drags the monkey off the shelf, she brings it to the bed, and she just, well, you know . . . for several minutes. She loves her stuffies. She sleeps with them, plays with them, even watches the washing machine when they go in there.”
“Seems like Ruby’s quite dedicated to her toys.”
“But why is she engaging in this behavior with the monkey? She’s a girl dog. I don’t understand. Is she gender-confused?”
“That’s not how it works, Janice. Canines are quite binary in their mating.”
“And she’s been fixed too!”
“Does she seem stressed or anxious?” I ask, and we briefly discuss and rule out other possible motives.
“Why is she doing this, then?” Janice asks.
“The same reason people do it.”
“Do you mean . . .?” Her hand flies to her chest, and she whispers, “I don’t hump a monkey.”
“I don’t either,” Jonathan mouths, and I shoot him a side-eye glance.
“Your dog is masturbating,” I tell Janice. “Since nothing seems wrong with her, she’s likely doing it because it feels good.”
A sheet of pure mortification slides over her face. “My dog is a pervert?”
I laugh, shaking my head. “No. She’s normal. It’s one hundred percent normal behavior. Both altered and intact dogs do it, and it’s not limited to males. Females do it too, and many dogs also exhibit courtship behavior toward the stuffed animals, or whatever the object of affection is.” I turn to Jonathan. “Perhaps you can explain what that is.”
Jonathan clears his throat. “It’s when the dog’s tail goes up and her ears rotate backward. They may also lick and paw. Also, when they perform pretend bows. Play bows. That’s all part of it.”
Janice gasps. “She does all of that.”
I clap her shoulder. “Then you have a very normal dog. If you don’t like it, perhaps take the monkey away from her.”
Janice shudders. “But she loves the monkey.”
“Indeed she does.”
Janice reaches for the small dog, scoops her up, and strokes her snout. “I just don’t know what to do.”
“It’s certainly something to think about,” Jonathan offers.
“Can we train her out of it?” Janice asks.
“If it’s truly important to you, simply remove the temptation. However, Ruby might develop a liking for a favorite shirt of yours then. Sometimes it’s best to just let dogs be dogs.”
We say goodbye to Janice and move on to other appointments. I greet Doug when he arrives, and we cross paths all day long, as we usually do. I also see Sloane chatting on the phone in his office, tapping away on her computer, and keeping her head down. Her blonde hair is piled high on her head in a messy bun with soft tendrils framing her face.
I’m not tempted.
Not tempted in the least.
I wave and say hello.
She says hi back.
Look at that. Aren’t we so damn cordial?
It’s easy, too, as we review the paperwork on her current dogs in foster. A breeze as we discuss the shots they need. A picnic as we devise a plan.
It’s all thanks to focus.
* * *
As the day draws to a close, Sam informs me that Lydia called, wanting to bring Sabrina in again. “This time, she’s evidently hyper.”
Jonathan shoots me an amused look as Sloane walks by. “That’s the Doctor Doolarge effect.”
Sloane stops in her tracks, arches a brow. “Doctor Doolarge?”
I groan.
Jonathan wiggles a brow. “Didn’t you hear? He had his name changed.”
I hold my hands up in surrender. “What am I going to do with you two clowns?” I say to Jonathan and Sam.
Sam shrugs. “I just don’t know, Doctor Doolarge.”
Sloane laughs as I head into the exam room for the last appointment of the day.
* * *
When I leave, I don’t see Sloane anywhere. I tell myself to focus on finishing paperwork, but maybe I’ll just poke my head into Doug’s office.
I find him there at his desk. “Hey, Malone. How was everything today?”
“It was great.”
“Not too disruptive having my girl here?”
“Not at all.” That feels mostly true. We did get along well.
“We can start on the spay and neuters tomorrow.”
“Sounds like a plan.” I look around, as if Sloane is hiding behind a filing cabinet.
“Oh, she took off for the night. Said she had to go see a friend.”
Friend.
This bothers me more than it should.
I slide my blinders back on as I work out, head to dinner with Jason, and then go home.
By the time I’m ready to hit the sack, my phone buzzes with a text from her that completely disrupts all my hard-won focus.