Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Frankie
I wandered the quiet paths after closing hours, needing some time to cool off after the full-on adrenaline of the day. The zoo had been teeming with visitors flocking to the island for the first weeks of summer break. Cabinet food had been demolished, the soft serve machine had broken, and there’d been a long line out the door of the restaurant that wound around the aviaries. At least those waiting had the comedic stylings of our two rowdy cockatoos to keep them entertained.
With an outstretched hand, I trailed my fingers through the tall grasses that lined the lion viewing platform. I needed to rethink the menu. We needed more food that could be turned over quickly to keep the lines down. Luckily, the cooks and waitstaff working at the Peckish Peacock were truly rockstars who managed to keep up with my frantic demands.
My brain was still whirling, trying to come up with a game plan for the next day. I wasn't ready to return to the Salty Dog and the boisterous sound. Even with the earplugs Finch had graciously donated to me, it was like I could feel the presence of so many people around me. I didn't know how Aya slept through all of it . . . probably with a lot of practice.
I headed in the direction of the savannah. It was always a calming place at the far end of the zoo. The giraffes lazily roamed their paddock, grazing the last of the leaves hanging from their feeders.
I passed the playground and the Jeep with the adorable “Hawk and Hannah” bumper sticker. They had the sweetest love story. Hannah had been more than happy to regale me with it while I’d been rolling out the dough for the miniature pizzas this morning. When I’d asked how she and Hawk had met, she’d been practically vibrating with eagerness to tell me.
A thought hit me all at once: I’d never leapt with excitement to tell someone the story of how Jake and I’d met. Had we really been so doomed from the start? Or was Hannah’s love just exceptional? Jake’s reticence to marry me should've been a giant red flag, but he’d said he wanted to save up first and his reasons had been understandable and . . . it was only now in retrospect that I saw it all so clearly.
Maybe I had been unconsciously dragging my feet too. Maybe I’d found justification in his poor reasoning because I hadn’t been sure either. It was just what people did. They paired off. They got married. That kind of sparkly, incandescent love was a fairy tale. Or maybe that kind of love was real. Maybe it just wasn't meant for all of us.
The sound of a clicking fence jarred me from my thoughts.
I turned to find a zebra standing between the fence of his enclosure and the visitor lookout railing.
It took me a second to comprehend what I was seeing. “ How did you manage to get in there?"
I wandered over to him, trying to spy a break in his enclosure fence but unable to spot one.
"What did you do, Houdini?" I asked as the zebra reached his head over the fence and opened his lips out like I was a keeper with a bushy branch of food.
"Uh . . .” I turned around, looking for the escape route, and finally spied a missing post from the enclosure that a cheeky little zebra might be able to squeak through. At least the visitor railing ringing the savannah was enough to keep him contained.
“This way," I said, beckoning the zebra back with my hand. "This is the way home."
He didn't seem the slightest bit interested in following me. Still, he reached over the fence like I might feed him, and I wondered if he was responding to the fruit embroidered on my apron.
"Is this what you're looking at?" I took the apron off and held it higher, and the zebra's head followed. "Aha!" I moved the apron along the fence line, clicking my tongue. "Come on then, let's go."
To my great relief, he began to follow, trotting along with the promise of a fruity treat. But, because I couldn't have nice things, he zoomed forward a little too fast and snatched the apron from my grip.
"Shit!" I lurched forward, reaching for it as he shook the fabric side to side. "Shit! Shit! Shit!"
Oh god, why did I think this was a good idea? Now everyone would see my apron in the savannah enclosure and then I'd need to explain to my new boss why I didn't just call a keeper for help. Here I was, thinking I could be so slick, but what if something happened to the zebra? What if he choked on my apron and I accidentally ended up killing him? What would Finch say?
Fuck, I was going to have to tell Finch and then she'd hate me and want to stop fake dating me and then I'd be publicly shamed by Jake and my life would fall apart even more than it already had . . .
"No," I shouted, scolding my own panicking thoughts. "Give that apron back to me, you stripey bastard!”
I climbed up on the log beside the fence and leaned my whole upper half over, reaching, reaching, yes!
With the very tips of my fingers, I snagged the apron. Yanking it forcefully from the giddy zebra's mouth, I tossed it back over the fence, but when I tried to climb back down, the belt loop of my jeans hooked over the back of the fencepost. I was jerked upwards, my jeans giving me an instant wedgie. I scrambled to climb back up but the log beneath my foot broke, and then I was just dangling from the impressively fucking sturdy loop of my jeans.
"Fuck!"
I flailed, looking like a small-town production of Peter Pan flapping about on a wire. What if I was stuck here all night? I reached for my phone in my back pocket and then was faced with the impossible question of: Who the fuck do I call? Who would be the least embarrassing person to discover me like this? No one. No one could see this. I’d never live it down.
I let out a growl of frustration. Aya maybe? I figured I’d face the least amount of ridicule from her, but it would still be mortifying.
"Need some help there, Goldilocks?" a smug voice called from behind me.
No! Fuck my life. I immediately knew who it was—the voice of the person I least wanted to witness this humiliating display.
This situation had dramatically swung from bad to worse. Maybe if I didn't move, she'd think I'd died and just leave me impaled on the zebra fence like a wedgie-touting scarecrow.
"I'm fine," I gritted out, arms still flailing as I hung by my ass crack.
"You look fine,” Finch said, and I already knew that self-satisfied look would be on her face. "You normally wear your jeans so far up your ass you can taste the denim?"
My hands immediately flew to cover my ass, and Finch chuckled.
"Here," she said, and before I could protest, I heard her hasty boots approaching. Her arms banded around the top of my thighs and she lifted me up, finally relieving my rope-burned nether region.
Holy shit, she was strong.
She lifted me like it was nothing, unhooking my belt loop and slowly lowering me to the ground. I turned in her grip and her hands stayed on my waist for a split second as she smiled down at me before she yanked her hands away like they were on fire.
"Thank you," I said sheepishly. "I promise I'm not trying to make a habit of needing rescuing."
“You were just giving me the opportunity to be gallant," Finch said with a wink. "So, were you trying to lure Jailbreak back to his enclosure with your apron? Foolproof plan."
"How long have you been watching me?"
Finch tipped her head up to the lamppost set in the middle of the lookout and I spied the camera mounted on it.
"Great," I muttered.
"I was passing through the prep kitchens and saw you on the monitor," she added with a chuckle. "It was even funnier without the sound. I was going to leave you to it, but then you got yourself stuck and I thought I shouldn't leave you here hanging by your pants all night.”
"There's a hole in the fence line." I pointed behind me, hoping it would redirect the conversation away from my clumsiness.
"We know." Finch crossed her arms and grinned down at me.
"You know?"
"Why do you think we call him Jailbreak?" she asked.
"Because he's striped like an old-timey prison outfit?"
"Ah.” She nodded. "That makes sense too. But no, he comes out here and grazes in the afternoons."
"And you just let him?"
She shrugged. "Saves us from having to mow." We both laughed at that. “He only does it after hours and he's a friendly old man regardless. Besides, who would be foolish enough to climb over a railing to get to him?"
"Yep," I said, my blush burning across my cheeks. "What kind of crazy person would do that?"
Finch’s smile widened. “You ready to walk home?”
I swept my hair off my sweat-beaded face. “You don’t have to?—”
“You better get used to this, Goldilocks,” Finch said. “We’re being watched now.” We both looked back up to the security camera above us. “It’s time to put on a show.”
“I know, but we can put on a show during work hours. You really don’t need to?—”
“Let me walk you home,” Finch pushed. “It’s good for me to get beyond the fence line every once in a while. Who doesn’t like an evening stroll along the ocean? Besides,”—she leaned in, her breath smelling of cinnamon-spiced coffee—“the company’s not so bad either.”
“Okay,” I said, unable to hide my smile, feeling ridiculously giddy at this preposterous arrangement we’d made. “I like the company too.”