Chapter 9
SANDRA
The golden retriever we just got in boofs at me as he eyes his food bowl.
He looks a million times better now that he’s washed and brushed.
An older couple found him raiding their garbage cans like some kind of raccoon, emaciated and exhausted.
He’s one of the lucky ones. He was chipped, and his owners actually kept their information up to date.
By this time tomorrow, he should be on his way home.
Despite how his big hungry eyes follow the bowl, he still waits for me to put it down and pull my hand away before throwing himself at it.
"Hey Sandra."
I squeak in surprise at the sound of Travis's voice, and spin around to find him leaning on the door into the kennel area. “Oh my God, you scared me.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Uh, I work here. It’s not exactly a surprise.”
I suppose not, but he usually leaves us alone to do our thing while he sits in the office doing paperwork. Some days he just works from home, since it doesn’t matter where he’s handling phone calls or sending emails, and he doesn't want barking dogs in the background.
"What's up?" I ask.
Travis is early thirties, and not bad looking.
He’s fit, his short brown hair has just enough product in it to be stylish, and he looks like the kind of guy you can bring home to meet your parents.
Boring at first glance, but I know he has at least one tattoo, and he goes to concerts fairly regularly.
We went out exactly twice when I first started working here.
The first time I didn’t know his ‘let’s grab a drink’ was meant to be a date, and the second time was to find out if it was a good or bad idea.
It turned out to be neither really. We have the chemistry of two rocks on opposite sides of a stream.
At least in my opinion. I'm not convinced he felt the same way, but he’s never made an issue of it or pushed for more.
"I want you to take some new pictures and update the website. The gala’s coming up and I’m calling around this week to get our contribution to the charity auction ready."
“Sure. Hey, do we really make much money from the gala?”
Travis frowns. “Some, but the point is to stay visible as part of the business community. Why?”
“I was thinking that maybe we could try something different next year.
We could really use some upgrades around here.
When I was in college, there was always a yearly charity motorcycle ride in the area.
I'm pretty sure we could get the Screaming Eagles to pitch in, and people are always curious about the bikers right? I know some of them through my sister, and I could ask.”
"The Screaming Eagles?" His smile is swallowed by his grimace as he curls his lip. "This is about building local connections and earning money for charity. Not scaring people off. Your sister runs a bakery, doesn’t she? What the hell does she have to do with criminals?" He turns away, not waiting for an answer. "It doesn’t matter. I know you haven’t been here long, but trust me when I say it’s important to be a part of this. Got it?”
“Got it.”
Travis spins back, like he just thought of something.
"Speaking of the Eagles, I got an interesting phone call.
" His tone darkens in a way I don't like. "A guy called in to report one of our staff members for lying about an animal, and he had some sort of story about getting harassed in the parking lot by a couple of bikers. Since you’re the only woman working here, I’m going to have to assume he meant you.”
Oh no. "I didn't—"
"I backed you up, by the way. Told him we didn’t have his dog.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he looks down at me. "Was that a lie?"
"He couldn’t even give me her name." I roll my eyes at him. "So yeah. The bikers were here because they found a stray. She was in rough shape and I suspected she’d escaped from someone breeding dogs for guarding and fighting. If you saw her, you’d understand.
She’s so sweet. I just want to give her a chance. ”
"Sandra, we can't save every dog that comes in here with a sad story. If that dog actually belongs to him, taking it is theft. Where is she now?”
This is exactly why I didn’t want to say anything to Travis. I know he must care about the animals or he wouldn’t work here, but sometimes I think he’s too focused on the business side and not enough on the reason we’re here in the first place.
I cross my arms over my chest and look him in the eyes. “I placed her temporarily with a foster home. If he comes back with some kind of proof, I’ll do what I have to do, but I won’t apologize for trying to keep her safe.”
“You’re going to owe me. Stunts like this put the whole shelter’s reputation on the line.”
"Did you know the guy who called?” Part of the conversation with the man who came looking for Junkyard has stuck with me. He’d specifically asked for Travis.
Travis scowls. “Of course not. I took his number and told him I’d call him if I had more information.
” He reaches out and strokes a hand down my arm, leaving it resting near my elbow.
“I understand that you’re trying to save the world, and I think it’s admirable, but you need to think about the big picture.
Every animal we take in costs space and resources.
If you want to stick around you need to accept that you can save more dogs by focusing on the ones that are most adoptable.
With time you’ll either get a feel for it, or burn out. ”
He’s not wrong, but it doesn’t feel completely right, either. Unfortunately, he’s my boss and I want to keep this job for now. So I nod. "Okay. I'll keep it in mind."
"Good. Make sure you do." He seems to run out of steam, like he's not sure where to take this further.
After an awkward pause, he turns away, heading back to the front office.
"Anyway, I have to run out and get the materials printed for our auction entry. It’s too late to change what you did, but please consider the big picture next time.
If this blows up in our faces, I will throw you under the bus if it means keeping us out of trouble. "
Fine.
I get the golden tucked away in a kennel and start taking some of the other residents out for walks around the yard.
By the time I’m done, Travis has left. Carl’s coming in to cover the late shift, and I have something I want to do while there’s nobody around to see me.
I log myself out of our shelter management software, and log back in as Travis—hey, if the guy didn’t want us doing it, he shouldn’t have his password on a sticky note stuck to his monitor.
I haven’t even been working here for half a year yet.
Maybe he’s right and I’m not seeing the forest for the trees, but maybe there could be better ways to do things.
With his log-in, I can get access to more of the data, including historical information.
I’m not really a computer person, and I’m not even one hundred percent sure what I’m looking for, but I scroll through our resolved case history, waiting for something to pop out at me.
My phone dings. The sudden sound makes me jump and sends my heart racing. I’d make a horrible spy. It’s a notification from Piston, adding me to a group chat with Beast and Zero. The name of the group chat changes to Team Junkyard.
Piston: You ready for tonight?
Me: My shift is done at seven.
Zero: Oh, now I’m part of the group. I get it.
Beast: What app is this? Can I turn off the sounds?
I shake my head, laughing quietly. How is this my life now?
All the entries blend together. There are a few names that keep popping up, but I don’t know all of the foster homes. Frustrated, I switch users again and leave the computer.
Me: I don’t have to be dressed up or anything, right?
Piston: No shirt, no shoes, no service.
Zero: No pants, no problem.
Beast: We’re taking the bikes, so jeans would be good.
Zero: Who taught you how to flirt online?
Beast: ?
When Carl shows up, I duck into the bathroom to change.
I swap my sneakers for black boots with a little heel, and my work t-shirt for a black and red lacy tank top that shows off the jewel in my belly button.
I touch up my makeup, adding a wing to my eyeliner, and some glitter to my cheeks.
Maybe I’m not quite a biker chick, but close enough when I add the short leather jacket I stole from Natalie’s closet.
Like thunder before lightning, the rumble of the bikes hits before they pull in and park out front.
“See you later!” I yell before heading out to meet my dates.
"Niiice." Piston looks me up and down like he'd peel my clothes off with his eyes if he could. “Maybe we should just head back to the clubhouse.”
“No way. My one request was somewhere away from the club, so if you can’t make it happen I guess I’ll have to find somewhere to party on my own.”
“Like fuck you will.” Zero rakes his icy blue gaze over me like he's cataloging every little detail for later. He’s the one I know the least, and it would be nice to change that. "You’re riding with me today. Those two assholes have had their turns."
"He’s got a point," Beast says with a laugh. “I suppose it’s only fair.”
Zero gives him a look, then smirks with a tiny roll of his eyes. Just a hint of friendly exasperation slipping through. "Let's go. I feel the call of a beer. Arms around me and hold on."
He doesn't have to ask me twice. Swinging my leg over the back of his bike, I settle up against him and wrap my arms around his powerful torso. My hands spread on his abs, I swear there's not a spot of softness anywhere. Zero is shredded.
"Hang on tight, lean when I do," he instructs over his shoulder, a clear, no nonsense command.
"Yes, Sir."
He stiffens, just for a moment, then it passes. His bike rumbles to life underneath us and we’re off to wherever they're taking me.