35. The Human Has a Beef
THE HUMAN HAS A BEEF
SAWYER
Levi rushes to the edge of the pool, hands on his thighs, bent over in shock and utter delight at August still flapping his arms.
Jubilee clutches the ball in her tiny mouth as if ball is life is her mantra.
And everyone—every single guest, including the three actresses—gawks at the scene in the pool.
Levi whips his gaze to me, then lets out an approving, “Boss man, I didn’t think you had it in you.”
Hazel is right next to him, offering me a hand for high-fiving. “You’re human after all. You’re not a robot.”
I don’t high-five back. I’m too shocked.
“I stand corrected,” Levi says, pride in his voice. “I said nothing fazed you when a dog stole your tie. But holy smokes—a jackass talking smack about your woman riles you all the way up.” He pokes my chest. “Yup. Human.”
“And the human has a beef,” Hazel adds.
No one has ever talked about me like that. And it’s horrifying. I’m not the guy who has a beef. I’m the guy who fixes beefs.
I barely know what came over me. I’m slack-jawed, and I can’t believe I pushed someone in a pool, let alone pretended I was about to fall. And now—ah, fuck—everyone is staring at August, at me, at Jubilee, phones out, recording the whole thing from every angle.
Fuck. My. Life.
“Get her. Save her. She’s wet.”
The cry comes from Alexandra, and all I can think is the dog looks happier than I’ve ever seen her as she paddles across the deep end, tennis ball between her teeth.
“She’s happy! She’s smiling! And no one had to give her a command,” Hazel says, defending the dog’s right to swim.
“But. She’s. Wet,” Alexandra says, and Corinne is at the edge of the pool, tugging off her shirt and revealing a bathing suit underneath. She’s ready to dive in to save a dog who knows how to paddle. Veronica, Saffron, and Ava are gathered at the side of the pool, eyes wide and sparkling.
When August’s beady eyes spell opportunity, and he freestyles his way to Jubilee—
Nope. I fucked this day up. I need to unfuck it. I jump in, shoes and all, and swim to Jubilee, beating that jackass thanks to my triathlon training. I scoop the dog into my arms.
She drops the ball into the chlorinated water, then barks at it. Loud, insistent. Saying ball is mine.
“She’s fine,” I say, but it sounds empty because of course she’s fine. She’s a dog. She can swim.
And evidently, she loves it, since she’s trying to wiggle out of my arms and chase the ball in the water.
“Let her,” Veronica cheers.
“Yes! She’s so happy,” Saffron adds.
“She’s having the best dog day ever,” Ava says, piling on.
Alexandra huffs. She doesn’t like messes at all. But I’ve already made a huge one, and at least the actresses are saving my ass.
And Chloe’s saving the day too. She’s distracted the other dogs, urging them over to her, offering treats at the edge of the pool as Corinne and Alexandra decide what to do about their very wet, very happy dog star.
Corinne shrugs and says with a resigned smile, “Well, it’s her bath day anyway.” She jumps in, ready to handle the dog who finally gets to play instead of work.
I let Jubilee go and she swims gamely to the ball.
With her safe and sound in the pool with Corinne, I swim to the ladder and climb out, my sandals waterlogged and squishing, drawing attention to me in a way I hate.
Chloe’s there, handing me a towel I don’t deserve, after she’s managed the rest of the dogs.
“You okay?” she asks.
Fuck no.
I don’t answer, though, because Levi’s clapping. Hazel’s hooting, and Zuri is shaking her head in amusement.
“From night golf to dog lifeguard. From fill-in singer to caveman. Look at you! Surprising the hell out of everyone,” Zuri says.
That’s the problem. I pushed a guy in the pool, then jumped in to save a dog who didn’t need saving, and the whole town witnessed and recorded it.
All my employees know I’m involved with a co-worker.
Which, on the surface, is fine. But it’s not fine with me.
I’d wanted to sit them down, tell them, then conduct my romance out of the fucking public eye. Not have them find out like this.
Now, I’m going to be all over social media as the most unprofessional professional ever. This wasn’t just messy, it was a spectacle. And for a guy trying to build a brand on trust, responsibility, and care, that’s lethal.
I might as well have launched a hundred glitter-filled balloons over the town square and popped them myself.
* * *
When the event mercifully ends, I’m at my car with Chloe.
I’m wearing gym clothes from my gym bag, always stowed in my trunk.
I can’t get the image of August flapping his stupid arms in the water out of my head.
I can’t get the whole damn day out of my head.
Most of all, I can’t get the comments from my employees to stop playing on a loop.
I didn’t think you had it in you.
You’re not a robot.
A jackass talking smack about your woman riles you all the way up.
And the human has a beef.
I need balance in my life. I need order. I need to be responsible.
“Chloe,” I say, and it’s like a rain cloud is hovering over my head. “I need to take stock of my life.”
The words come out before I think them through.
Story of today. But also…they’re true. I’ve been barreling forward in Darling Springs, rushing into a new romance without even thoroughly considering it.
A year ago, I was deep in the throes of wedding planning.
Hell, late last summer I was ready to say I do.
It’s hardly been a year since Katya and I split up, and I’m practically moving Chloe in.
When I should be focused on Dog Tails. Growing the business. Evaluating ROI. Inking partnerships with the town, with other local businesses, with the producers. Not making myself the center of attention.
The only one who actually had a good day here was Jubilee—ball in mouth, paddling like a queen. But I was supposed to do what Alexandra wanted. Not what Jubilee wanted.
I look at Chloe, finishing the thought. “I’m…not acting professional at all.”
She tilts her head, studying me quizzically. “So you’re breaking this off?”
Whoa. Talk about cutting to the chase. But that’s Chloe. She doesn’t mince words. “No,” I say immediately. “I’m not. I just—”
I stop, trying to give myself a second to think.
“It’s okay. I can tell you are,” she says, strong and unflinching. Facing shit head-on.
I need to do the same. “I need to take a step back. Get some balance. Figure my stuff out. I wanted to come here and live a quiet life, not be the center of attention.”
“Because that’s unprofessional,” she says, like a doctor assessing the situation.
“Well, yeah,” I say, since of course it is. “I run a business, and I’m acting like an agent of chaos. I’m ridiculous. Remember how the dog party was ridiculous? But now I’m fucking ridiculous. This isn’t me. It’s not how I do things. It’s not…what I thought I—”
I stop short of saying wanted.
She draws a deep breath, her eyes widening, clearly knowing what I was about to say anyway.
She lifts her chin. “It’s fine. It’s not like we were together,” she says, then rolls her lips.
Takes a few seconds, maybe to collect herself.
“But don’t let me down on Saturday night.
The fundraiser means a lot to my mom. And to the whole town. ”
Her voice breaks, then she walks away.
And I let her.
* * *
I’m home alone with my dog, playing Halo and blasting the Rolling Stones to get out of my own head when my phone pings. It buzzes on the coffee table, the screen lighting up. Dread swirls inside me. I let my character die. Fitting.
When I pick it up, it’s a message from Alexandra saying she’d like to meet tomorrow afternoon. She closes with: It’s important.
And yup, this day just got worse.