Chapter 2 #2
The deep voice had me whirling and looking up. Way up. A barrel-chested giant with arms possibly as wide as my waist stood behind me, wearing plaid and jeans. A bearded lumberjack with a nametag that said Maddox.
“Hey, there. So weird thing, I found a lizard at my place and was looking for something to feed him.”
He arched a brow. “Chances are it can feed itself. The lizards in these parts aren’t domesticable.”
“Yeah, well tell that to the little fella that insisted on coming inside my trailer and snuggled me all night long.”
That claim brought a frown to the ruggedly handsome face.
It should be noted I had a thing for big, burly dudes, not that I’d dated any in a while.
My last boyfriend, a biker I’d met while tattooing him, turned out to be a dick who stole all the cash from my cookie jar and fled town when the cops came looking for him about some stolen catalytic converters.
What could I say, I knew how to pick them.
“Do you know what species you found?”
I shook my head. “Nah, and Google’s not being too helpful in that regard either. And before you ask, I forgot to take a pic, but he’s about this big,” I held out my hands. “Grayish skin. Lumpy back, talkative and bossy.”
“Lizards don’t talk.”
“Not in words,” I scoffed. “But definitely making noise at me. Anyhow, I’m here because I need some food and shit.”
“Kind of hard to figure out its diet without knowing the species.” Maddox pursed his lips. “But I can probably set you up with some generic stuff. Given the description, it’s most likely a Northern Alligator Lizard. They tend to like insects and stuff. Do you have a terrarium?”
I snorted. “No, and I’d rather not cage it.”
“Then you run the risk of it escaping.”
The reply had me shrugging. “Which would be its choice. I’m not even sure it will be there when I get back.”
He gave me an odd look. “Exactly where do you live that lizards can come and go?”
“I’ve got a trailer outside of town. Used to belong to my granny. While it’s fairly cozy, I know for a fact it’s got holes because the mice somehow keep finding a way in.” And this despite the many traps I’d set over the years.
“In that case, there’s a strong chance it will be gone by the time you get home. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of anyone domesticating a NAL.” He shortened the name.
“Assuming it is, what do you suggest I feed it?” I left out any mention of the steak and ice cream Little Fella scarfed down. Maddox already seemed appalled enough as it was. No need for him to lose his eyebrows completely in disbelief.
“Let me get you a few things.” The big man moved confidently around the store, and I leaned against a display watching because I just couldn’t make it fit.
He looked like he should be chopping wood or fixing cars, not working in a pet store.
Heck, with that ass and the biceps bulging his shirt, he would have looked good as a fireman or a stripper.
Maddox dumped an armful of shit on the counter by the register.
He pointed and named each item. “Dried crickets, although I do have live ones if you find your lizard not happy about them being dead. Canned worms. They’re a little juicier so you might want to feed them to it on a towel or something washable.
We’ve got some powdered vitamin to make sure it doesn’t get mineral deficient.
You’ll want to make sure it’s got access to water as well. Do you need a dish?”
My lips curved as I said, “Pretty sure I’ve got enough empty margarine containers to figure something out.
” Grandma didn’t believe in buying plastic receptacles but rather reused the ones she got with things like sour cream, yoghurt, and other dairy products.
When one cracked or melted in the microwave, she recycled it and pulled out the next.
By the time she died, she’d collected so many I had to purge but kept up the practice.
After all, I’d already paid for the container, why not use it?
“This should get you started. If the lizard sticks around, pop back with a picture and we’ll confirm its species. Maybe talk you into some live insects,” he said with a naughty grin.
“Like fuck. I am not having some grasshoppers and stuff loose in my trailer. Bad enough I’ve got ants each summer.”
As Maddox rang up my purchases, he glanced at me. “I’ve seen you around. You work nearby?”
“Yeah, down the street. I am an artist at Holy Inkredible.”
“The tattoo place. Neat name. I hear you do good work.”
“Only the best,” I boasted. “You got any ink?”
He shook his head. “Nah. You?”
Guess he couldn’t tell given I wore long sleeves and pants. “A few.” I downplayed the number. Some dudes got weird about girls being tatted up.
“You do them yourself?”
“No. It’s not easy to work on your own skin. Leo does mine. And I do his.”
“Leo is…”
“My boss.” Although, I had to wonder why he asked. Fishing to see if I was single, perhaps? Hell, yeah. I wouldn’t mind taking Maddox for a ride.
“That will be forty-three seventy-nine. Cash or credit?”
“Cash.” I handed over two twenties and a ten and shoved the change in my pocket.
He paper-bagged my purchase and handed it to me. “Here you go. I’m Maddox, by the way. Or Mad, as my friends call me.”
“Are you an angry man?” I teased.
His grin flashed bright and panty-wetting. “Only if you abuse an animal or steal food from my plate.”
“I’m with you on both. I’m Pip.” I didn’t mention the fact it was short for Philippa—which I hated with a fucking passion.
Mom named me after my deadbeat dad, a man who left before I was born but eventually returned, not to become a father.
Oh no. He convinced my mom to abandon me at the age of three and run away with him.
She didn’t even hesitate. Granny raised me and I thanked fuck for that fact.
Last I heard, my parents were down in South America grifting.
I only knew because my mother called to beg for some dough.
No hello how are you, just straight up I’m broke, can you send me some cash?
I doubted I’d hear from her again since I told her she could take her demand and shove it up her twat.
She called me ungrateful. I told her she could kiss my ass after I took a dump.
Needless to say, that conversation ended abruptly.
“Nice to meet you, Pip. Good luck with your lizard.”
It would have been funny, only he meant it quite seriously. “Thanks, Mad.” Yeah, I used the nickname because it was cute.
I spent another two hours working, mostly doing up sketches and setting up appointments before heading home. When I entered the trailer, I half expected Little Fella to be gone, but the moment I opened the door, he stood on the couch and chirped at me.
“Yeah, yeah. I know you’re probably hungry. Look. I got you some yummies.” I grimaced at the smell and sight of the bugs as I put them on a plate on the floor.
Apparently, I wasn’t the only one less than impressed. Little Fella took one sniff and gagged. Wait, could lizards gag?
“I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t eat it either. I brought home some sausage to cook up on the firepit. Wanna try some of that?”
Little Fella did. He scarfed down a whole fat wiener and then eyed the other half of mine.
Where the fuck was he putting it? He also greatly enjoyed the marshmallows I roasted.
I ate three. He, well, he ate the rest when I wasn’t looking.
Apparently, I didn’t cook them fast enough so he got into the bag and next thing I knew—gone.
When we went inside, I stepped over the clean paper towel—which made me wonder if Little Fella had left me a surprise somewhere—and flipped on the television in the bedroom.
My one of only three free channels had Jurassic Park playing, which Little Fella seemed to greatly enjoy.
He sat on my lap and didn’t turn his gaze once from the screen.
Once more, we slept together, and when I rose the next day, he remained in my bed.
Since he’d enjoyed the bagel I’d left the day before, I made him another—from a fresh pack I’d bought—and refilled his water dish—a.k.a.
repurposed margarine tub. I also turned on the TV in my living area and left it running since it had fascinated him so much.
I went to work, debated popping by to see Maddox, realized I had no reason since I’d forgotten to take a pic, and with no plausible excuse to swing by—because I wasn’t buying more bugs—ended up just going home.
Being low on supplies, I hit the grocery store for more stuff and bought enough my saddlebags bulged.
Little Fella would be eating like a prince tonight as I’d grabbed us a rotisserie chicken and some cupcakes—that would likely have most of their icing plastered to the container.
Wanna bet my little lizard would love licking it off?
With my arms laden with my purchases, I struggled to open the door.
It swung open and I smiled at Little Fella perched on the couch, watching television.
He craned his head to eye me and rather than the nonsensical chirping of before said quite distinctly if with an accent, “Woman, I’m hungry. Feed me.”