Chapter 17 Try me, Pretty Boy
Chapter seventeen
Try me, Pretty Boy
Beau
“Hey, Annie,” I greet as I walk into the animal shelter.
“Morning, Beau.” Annie is always super cheerful and bright. It’s no wonder all the animals love her.
“Do you have a list for me?” Every day, all of the volunteers for that day get a list of all the dogs and cats they are taking care of. We clean out cages, make sure they’ve got fresh food and water, and then, get them out to play for a bit.
I don’t get here as often as I’d like, but I come every chance I get. Volunteering here led to me to adopting Mia, so I’ll always do it. Every one of these animals deserves a good home.
I look over the list and realize it’s a bit shorter than usual.
“Have you had a lot of adoptions this past week?” I ask.
“A few but no more than usual.”
“Hm. List seems short.”
“Oh, we have an extra volunteer today. She got here a few minutes ago.”
Immediately, I have a sinking feeling in my gut that I know who it is.
I could make up an excuse and walk out of here right now, but I don’t. I made a commitment, and I don’t walk away from that.
Plus, I don’t even for sure know that it’s Jo.
After looking over the list one more time, I shove the paper into my pocket so that I can get to work.
The moment I round the corner past the first row of cages, I see Jo filling up a food bowl at the feeding station.
Fuck.
She looks up and sees me, prompting her to let out a heavy sigh.
“What are you doing here?” She spits.
“I volunteer here every week.”
She rolls her eyes. “Of course you do. Aren’t you the fucking choir boy?”
“Your turn. What are you doing here?”
“I needed something to do.”
“Couldn’t find some classic Jo trouble to get into?” I’m hoping that if I keep being a dick to her that she’ll give it right back, and it’ll make it easier to keep hating her.
And with all of our history, sometimes, when she’s looking up at me with those big brown eyes, it’s hard to hate her.
In typical Jo fashion, she bites back. “No, I thought coming here to annoy you was all the trouble I needed for the day.”
I can’t help but smile because I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if that was the case. Jo can be pretty vindictive.
“Is that true?” I ask.
“No, you pompous asshole. My world doesn’t revolve around you.”
“Clearly,” I mutter.
“I came here because I was looking for something to do, and I love doing this. I just wanted to help.”
As much as I am irritated by her presence, I know the animals can use all the help they can get.
So, I say, “It’s a big shelter, and there’s a lot to do. I’m sure we won’t be in each other’s way too much.”
All she does in return is press her lips into a tight smile and nod.
Not wanting to keep doing this, I walk away. Staying away from Jo over the next few hours isn’t exactly easy. I may have exaggerated when I said the shelter is a big place. It’s not. There is quite a bit of overlap. Although we are both getting annoyed, we still manage to make it work.
One of my last dogs of the day is a Beagle named Mae. Mae’s been at the shelter for a while now and is having a hard time getting adopted because no one wants to take the time to really work with her. She’s so sweet, but after an abusive past, it takes her a while to trust anyone.
It’s taken quite some time for her to let me work with her, but now, we always have a great time. I’ve thought about adopting her, but seeing how she is with other dogs, I know she needs to be in a home with no other animals.
That’s the same reason I always wait until the end of the day to bring her outside to play. Most of the other volunteers are gone by this point, so we have the entire yard to ourselves.
I pick up a ball and start playing fetch with her. She’s so cute with her big ears flopping and her tongue hanging out the side of her mouth.
“Look at you go, Mae!” I cheer as she chases after the ball again.
Just when we are getting into a good groove, the back door to the shelter swings open. Out walks Jo with a chocolate lab named Daisy. While I love Daisy, Mae does not.
Immediately, when she sees the hyperactive lab, she runs over to cower against the fence. Before Daisy can get to her, I run over to pick up Mae to try to calm her down.
While Jo doesn’t seem the least bit fazed, Mae practically tries to climb inside my skin because she’s so scared.
“Jo, what the fuck is wrong with you?” I cry.
“What?” It takes her a moment to figure out what’s happening. “Oh, shit!”
“Yeah, do you think you could come get Daisy before Mae has a heart attack?”
She runs over to try to corral Daisy, but it’s not working.
“Put a leash on her!”
“Sorry,” she says. “I didn’t think anyone was out here.”
“Of course you didn’t, Jo. You never think about anyone but yourself.”
Her face scrunches up. “How was I supposed to know you were out here with a scared dog?”
“Did you even check first? Or did you just come running out here half-cocked?”
“Why would I check? Everyone comes in and out all day long, and there weren’t any issues.”
Holding Mae a little tighter, I reply, “That’s why I wait until the end of the day to bring this dog out here. She doesn’t do well with other people or animals.”
“And you’re really mad at me for not knowing that?”
“No, I’m mad at you for not thinking before you act! Classic Jo–always acting without considering the consequences.”
With one hand still on Daisy’s leash, she sets the other on her hip. “I’m starting to think this has gotten way more personal than just talking about a dog.”
“Think whatever you want, Jo,” I scoff.
“No, please, say what you want to say, Beau. Tell me how awful I am and how much you hate me.”
“What good would that do? It’s not going to change how you act.”
She gets a small smile on her lips. “Fuck, Beau. I’m giving you the perfect opportunity to give me some hell. You’ve clearly been holding onto some anger, but classic Beau–you just can’t say what you want to say.”
“You don’t want to know all the things I want to say to you.”
“Try me, pretty boy.”
Part of me wants to sail into her and tell her every single grievance I have with her. I want to finally yell at her for leaving and tell her how much she really hurt me.
But what good would it do? It seems to me that all it would accomplish would be making me sound pathetic.
All I decide to say is, “I think you’re selfish. And I think your wild and reckless actions are harmful to everyone around you.”
She nods. “There we go. Now, we’re getting somewhere.”
“No, Jo. We aren’t getting anywhere. We are right where we were when you left. Nowhere.”
“Are you seriously going to hate me forever?”
I have no idea the answer to that, but right now, I want to make her feel as shitty as she’s made me feel. I’m about to tell her I don’t see my feelings ever changing, but the back door of the shelter swings open again.
Sweet, chipper Annie now looks mad as hell. “What on Earth is wrong with you two?”
She doesn’t give either of us a chance to speak. “People inside and out in the parking lot can hear you going at it like a couple of crazy people.”
“Sorry, Annie,” we say in unison.
“I can’t have this here. Your negativity isn’t good for the animals. Both of you get out of here. Don’t come back until you work out whatever issues the two of you have.”
She storms back inside while Jo and I slowly follow her.
“Way to go,” Jo mutters under her breath.
“Me? You’re the one who showed up uninvited.”
“Yes, I came to volunteer at the animal shelter. I’m such a monster.” Every word drips with sarcasm. “You know, I volunteered here long before you did. I was here first.”
“You left. That negates you being here first.”
“That’s ridiculous. You’re being a baby.”
“No, you’re a baby!”
Listening to myself, I know I sound insane. I’m well aware of this fact.
But I can’t help it.
That’s the Jo Lawson effect.