5. Im a Professional, Dang It
Chapter five
I'm a Professional, Dang It
Neil
My mind blue-screened for a moment before I came to my senses and let Sawyer pull me up.
Was Sawyer flirting with me?
Definitely. Was I going to do anything about it? No. Because I’m a professional, goddamn it.
Now, I needed to repeat that to myself every five minutes to get through the next two hours.
I had written up a schedule on my iPad and grabbed it so I could focus on that and not Sawyer’s handsome face.
“Since you’re agreeable, let’s get started.” I made a tactical retreat before Sawyer could ask the questions I could feel brewing behind his smile.
The food storage area was right off the kitchen, so I started there. “Feeding happens on a schedule. Animals get fed before the shelter opens to the public for adoptions and again in the evening before we shut down for the night. If you work one of those two shifts, that will be part of your responsibilities.”
I showed him where we kept the food and paper feeding trays and how much food to doll out for each cat. We worked together in the kitchen, prepping the cart with all the portioned-out food. Then, we wheeled the cart out into the cat pod.
“Here you go, Princess Fluffybutt.” Sawyer set the cat’s food in her kennel, rubbing her between the ears as she bent over to pick at the wet food. I couldn’t help but grin at the cute face he made as he cooed at her.
A glance at the door of the kennel showed me the cat’s official name at the shelter was Beyoncé. Sawyer’s ridiculous, silly name was much better.
We got all the cats fed, slowed down by the fact that Sawyer wanted to stop and pet each and every one of them. He gave each one a more ridiculous moniker than the last.
He really should be looking for a cat to adopt, not a dog.
We returned to the feeding room, cleaned up the cat supplies, and then I started directing him on the process of feeding the shelter dogs.
We loaded everything up on the trolley. As if they knew we were coming, the dogs began barking up a storm the second the trolley wheels squeaked. I walked ahead while Sawyer pushed the trolley. Abruptly, the squeaking stopped.
I glanced over my shoulder. Sawyer had gone white, lips pressed together in a solid line, and his shoulders hunched over as if drawing in on himself.
“Are you alright?” I asked him.
“Um, no. I…” He trailed off, wrapping his arms around his middle.
“Go take some time; you look terrible. I can handle the dogs.” I told him. “It’s pretty self-explanatory from this point.”
He gave me a grateful nod and scurried off toward the lobby.
Only half the dog pods were full; we’d had a good weekend of adoptions, so it didn’t take me long. I returned the squeaky cart to the kitchen, where Sawyer found me a few minutes later.
“Feeling better?” I asked as he fell in beside me.
“Yes, thanks. Sorry for abandoning you so suddenly like that.”
“No worries.” He sounded so embarrassed I rushed to reassure him before thinking through my words. “I have some Midol in my bag if you need it.”
I watched him out of the side of my eye as we walked side-by-side.
“No, nothing like that.” He laughed and waved me off, thankfully not commenting about why I had Midol instead of aspirin or another painkiller.
I was used to hanging out with other trans men back in Boise, and the way he’d doubled over holding his stomach had looked like cramps. Maybe he was trans? No, the odds were probably not. He could just have had an upset stomach. Either way, I decided we were done for the day.
I pretended to check the time on my tablet. “We only have a little time left. Would you be up for me getting some pictures and videos of you petting the cats for our social media?”
“Twist my arm.” Sawyer laughed, and some of the tension went out of his shoulders.
We spent a fun half-hour taking photos and videos of Sawyer petting the fluffy white cat he’d christened Princess Fluffybutt, then a video of Sawyer laughing while half a dozen kittens used him as a climbing pole.
“Great first shift,” I told him as we exited the cat pod back into the lobby.
“Speaking of shifts, what shifts do I have this week?” Sawyer asked.
That brought me up short. In all my planning out the training plan, posting ads to recruit volunteers, and going through the applicants all weekend, I’d completely forgotten to draw up a schedule. Groaning, I tapped my forehead with the camera.
Sawyer caught it before I could whack myself again and pulled it down so he could look me in the eye. “Hey now, none of that.”
“I forgot to make a schedule. Arthur needs me to get this volunteer program off the ground—”
“Arthur also needs you not to work yourself into the ground.” Sawyer lifted his arms like he was about to hug me, then caught himself and backed up. Or maybe I was reading too much into it.
“Except he’s here even more than me. We can’t afford to pay the staff overtime, so Arthur’s been picking up all the slack. He lives here; he should at least get some time off. That’s why it’s imperative I get this program started immediately.”
“Burning the candle at both ends doesn’t give you more light; it just uses you up twice as fast,” Sawyer said. “When was the last time you had a vacation day?”
“Vacation day? I just started on Thursday. When you met me.”
I stared at him. “Relaxed, then. What was the last fun thing you did?”
Still staring at him, I cast my mind back. And came up blank. “Um… I honestly can’t remember.”
He paused for a moment, blinking at me in surprise before shaking himself and plowing on. “Okay, then. How many hours have you worked since you started?”
I hummed to myself as I thought back to this weekend. I hadn’t really kept track, but it had been a lot. Since the shelter struggled with money, I’d volunteered to donate my old school laptop to them. I’d taken it home with me out of habit. Then, it wasn’t like I knew anyone in town, plus I had so much to do to get these programs off the ground, and the laptop was right there…
“Probably over forty hours already,” I admitted.
“And before that? At your last job? When was the last time you really relaxed or took a day off?”
Between finishing my bachelor’s degree, working my volunteer position at the animal shelter in Boise, job hunting, and then uprooting my entire life and moving from Idaho to California? I honestly couldn’t remember. I shook my head.
He clapped his hands. “Right, then. I’ll pick you up at six.”
I blinked at him. “Pick me up? I have a car…”
“To drag you out the door. The way I see it, the best way I can help the shelter right now is to keep you from burning out. What’s your favorite restaurant? I’ll make a res for tonight.”
“You, uh, wait, what?”
“Restaurant. Name.” He snapped his fingers and jutted out one hip.
“I just moved here on Wednesday,” I admitted. “I haven’t been anywhere except the shelter and my apartment yet. I couldn’t name a single restaurant in town except Jack-In-The-Box, and I think that’s probably not what you had in mind.”
His eyes widened comically, and he clenched his fists at his heart and staggered back a few steps. “Dude. Duuude. Dude .” Somehow, he made saying the same word three times in a row sound like three different swear words. “You mean you haven’t even been to Boardwalk Books and Bites yet? That’s criminal. Unless you don’t like to read—that’s a whole ’nother crime.”
I threw up my hands. I couldn’t help but feel like I’d been swept up by an avalanche named Sawyer and that there was no escape. “I’ve been a little busy. And yes, I like to read.”
“It’s settled then. Pick you up at six.” Sawyer turned on his heels and was gone while I was still blinking stupidly at where he’d been standing.
“What the heck just happened?” I said out loud.
“Sounded to me like you got asked out on a date,” Shane said, making me jump. I forgot he was there.
“I can’t date a volunteer!” I groaned and slumped against the wall. “I’m like his boss. Besides, what will I do with Bubblegum?”
“Take her with you,” Shane said as if it were obvious. “But you are going on that date.”
“Don’t I get a say in this?” I huffed, and Shane laughed.
“Nope, because I happen to agree with him. You work too much. Plus, I saw your little photoshoot. How many of the pictures you took actually focused on the cats?”
My ears burned. “Enough.”