‘Earth to Tom. You just scared the dog.’ I stretch out, conscious not to touch him. ‘You never warned me that this dog was going to be like a baby. I’m wrecked.’
He yawns, his biceps stretching over his head. ‘They don’t tell you this when you buy them.’
‘This is why they sell them to idiots,’ I say with a smile, turning to face him.
My phone beeps with a text message. I open it up to see a number I don’t recognise.
Hi, Alice. It’s Charlie’s cousin Alfie. I work in London and wondered if you fancied meeting up sometime for a drink?
‘Who is it?’ Tom asks, trying to peer over my shoulder.
‘No one,’ I insist, feeling my cheeks blush. I never actually thought the guy would contact me.
‘Let me see,’ he insists, grabbing the phone from my hand.
‘No! Tom!’ I shout, frantically running around after him in my room.
‘Whoa, wait. That idiot Alfie texted you?’
‘So?’ I shrug, crossing my arms over my chest.
‘So, are you going to go out with him?’
I shrug again. ‘I don’t know.’
His face drops. He looks down at Pickles. ‘I better let him out for a wee.’
I watch from my bed as he gets his jacket and starts to carry him out. ‘Are you going in just your boxer shorts?’ I shout after him.
‘Yep. Too tired to give a shit right now.’
I watch him through the window as he walks into the communal gardens and waits for him to do his toileting. Everyone is curtain-twitching to see who the semi-naked man in the garden is. Not that he seems to care. He’s seriously comfortable being naked. Not that he shouldn’t be. The guy is ridiculously stacked.
I can’t believe I let him sleep in here with me. Not that I still think he’s sick enough to grope me or anything, but my god, what being bone-tired will make you do.
I stare down at the message from Alfie. Should I text him back? The sad thing is that the only man stuck in my head right now is Tom ‘Manwhore’ Maddens. The arrogant prick.
With me returning Pickles today, we’ll be able to sleep in our own beds tonight. Only... God, is it mad that I kind of liked having Tom there? No, I’m just severely sleep deprived and starting to lose my mind. But... well in this cold it’s nice to have a warm body pressed against you.
Tom
Well, waking up with a boner was awkward. Thank God she didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe she was too polite to mention it. Luckily, I could use the excuse of Pickles needing to go outside to shock my dick back to normal with the cold.
But damn, being that close to Alice and her amazing scent, it was just too much. Even in my exhausted state, I couldn’t help but discreetly sniff her. She smells of marshmallows and dark chocolate. I can’t remember seeing her eating that, so it must be her perfume. What a weird, but totally intoxicating choice.
I can’t believe she’s giving that boring dickwad Alfie a chance. The guy’s dull as fuck. She needs someone that’s going to challenge her. Really get under her skin.
Another thing I forgot about was having to pick up dog shit. I can hardly just leave it there, what with all the neighbour’s curtains twitching. I hope they don’t report us to the landlord. I mean, for all I know we could be banned from having pets larger than a hamster.
Without a bag, I have to resort to plucking some leaves and using them to scoop it up. Ugh, how I don’t vomit I don’t know. I rush back in, Pickles in one arm and the poo in the other. I flush it down the loo as soon as I can.
Jesus. What the hell have I brought on myself? Maybe Alice was right about returning him.
Alice
So, after a quick shower to wake myself up I’m headed to the pub with this puppy. I’m trying not to call him Pickles. That would get me feeling attached to him. I mean, yes, every time I look into his deep brown eyes my heart throbs full of love, but that’s not going to stop me. No way. The thing kept me awake all night. Nothing comes between me and my sleep.
I get to the pub as soon as it opens and quiz the manager, Liz, about the homeless guy selling a dog.
‘Hmm,’ she scratches her head, eyebrows bunched together. ‘There wasn’t a homeless guy, but there was a woman talking to him. She gave him a card.’
A woman? I’d have definitely remembered if he’d have said it was a normal woman.
‘Wait, are you sure? No homeless guy with this dog?’ I point down to him as if it’ll jog her memory.
‘I’m pretty sure I’d remember,’ she nods, trying and failing to hide a smirk. ‘He ended up leaving with her. I picked up the card actually.’ She walks over to the bin behind the bar and opens the lid. ‘Ah, I thought so. Here it is.’ She reaches in, grabs it and gives it to me.
I look down at the card covered in fag ash. Jean Mackenna, Dog Breeder.
Dog breeder? He made out he bloody rescued the thing! Not bought it from some breeder.
There’s an address here. I thank the woman and head straight for the car. I place the puppy on the front seat next to me and enter the address into the Sat Nav.
Within twenty-five minutes I pull up to a farm. This looks like it. As soon as I get out of the car, the sound of dogs barking overwhelms my ears. Jesus, there must be at least twenty dogs here.
I follow the raucous noise to an outdoor kennels with newborn puppies separated from their mother. I thought they were supposed to be kept together at this age?
‘Hello?’ a woman says behind me. ‘Can I help you?’
I spin around with a forced smile. ‘Oh, yes, I’m looking for Jean Mackenna.’
She smiles revealing a cracked front tooth. ‘That’s me.’
Definitely not a homeless guy. She’s tall, blonde, and wearing muddy wellies. Maybe in her late-thirties to early-forties.
‘Ah, well, my roommate bought this puppy from you yesterday and I wanted to return it.’
She looks down at the dog in my arms who’s trying to snuggle into my neck. Oh, sleepy now are you? You little shit.
Her smile quickly vanishes. ‘Sorry, no returns. If you don’t want it, take it to the dog shelter. It’s too old to sell now.’
My mouth drops open in shock at her attitude. ‘Are you serious? How could you see a puppy go to a place like that?’
She leans on one hip. ‘Look, you’re not getting your £750 back,’ she snaps.
He spent £750 on a dog? Jesus, think of the shoes you could buy with that kind of money! Does that mean he’s going to be short on his first month’s rent? I’ll kill him with my bare hands!
‘The dog is already sixteen weeks. Do you know how old that is in puppy time? She’s had her vaccinations too. I practically gave her away.’
Yeah, right. For £750 bloody pounds.
I have to think of a new tactic. Some way of getting her to accept him back.
‘To be honest with you, Tom, well, he has difficulties, if you know what I mean?’
She frowns. ‘Difficulties? I don’t follow.’
‘He has learning difficulties,’ I explain on a whisper with a sad smile. ‘Sometimes he has the mind of a seven-year-old. I’m actually his carer.’
I’m going to hell.
‘God, poor love,’ she says, nodding in understanding. ‘He did make some inappropriate jokes. I just thought he was a bit of a pig.’
I bite my tongue to stop myself laughing. ‘Because he’s such a big strong guy people assume he’s fine.’
She frowns, chewing on her lip. ‘Either way, I’m sorry, but I still can’t give you your money back. I can take back the dog, but she’ll probably end up in a dog shelter.’
I look down at the dog snuggled up next to me and then back at the kennels of barking dogs. He seems too small and fragile. What if he has a nervous breakdown? I wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing I’d done that. Not that I’ll sleep if I keep him.
‘I don’t know. Is his mother still here?’
‘Yeah, she’s in there.’
I look over
into the cage she’s pointed at to see a dog with terribly swollen teats. It’s obvious she’s been over-bred. This is such a puppy farm. My heart bleeds for her.
‘Aren’t the puppies still supposed to be with her at this stage?’ I probe.
She scoffs. ‘They’re sixteen weeks. And who are you? The police?’
The fact she’s so defensive proves she knows she’s in the wrong.
‘No, but I’m just a bit worried about them.’
Her face instantly hardens. ‘Listen, you let me worry about them. Now, do you want me to take the dog back or not?’
‘Not.’ I turn and head back to the car. There is no way I’m giving him to that awful lady. I pull away while asking Siri to call the RSPCA for me. Someone needs to report this bitch.
I took Pickles to the vet to get him checked over. After seeing the conditions in which he was brought into the world, I was worried he’d be riddled with disease. You hear about this sort of thing all the time. The puppies are mass-produced without time for the mother to rest, and then they’re sold off to the highest bidder. How that woman can live with herself I don’t know.
Well, first of all it turns out he’s a she. Tom mustn’t have stopped to look for a doggy penis. Something which shocks me.
While I was there, I got her chipped and so had to give her a name for their records. Pickles it is. Bloody ridiculous name that is, but now that I look at her she sort of suits it. The vet estimated that she’s about sixteen weeks, so that corroborates with what she told me. He said he’d heard of the woman and knew what vets she went to. He’s going to give them a call and double check that she’s had all her jabs.
When I get home, Tom’s already there. He looks worried about my reaction, chewing on his lip and pacing the floor. Obviously he knows by now I’d have found out he was lying about the homeless guy. His eyes widen in surprise when he sees Pickles is still with me.
I calmly place Pickles in Tom’s arms and then slam down an invoice. ‘You owe me £20 for her chip. You also need to order her a collar, name tag, and all the rest of that dog crap.’
His eyes brighten with hope. ‘You mean... we can keep him?’ he asks apprehensively.
I roll my eyes. ‘First of all, Pickles is a girl, not a boy. And, well... I mean that we’re stuck with her. The woman you bought her from won’t give you your money back.’
His eyes widen in alarm. Sometimes his face is so readable it’s embarrassing.
‘Yes, that’s right. I know it wasn’t a homeless man. Why fucking lie, Tom?’
He sighs, running his hand through his hair. ‘Because I knew you’d be far more likely to let her stay if you thought she was a cute little orphan.’
My nostrils flare. Try not to kill him. You’ll go to prison. You won’t do well there.
‘Yeah, well the place is a shit hole. There’s no way I’d send her back there. What the hell were you thinking getting a dog from a blatant puppy farm like that?’
He shrugs. ‘It just all happened so quickly. First, I was chatting to her, then she mentioned dogs and invited me back to hers. I thought I was getting lucky and then she took me into the kennels. I was about to leave when I saw Pickles. She looked so sad. I just couldn’t leave her there.’
He’s a right soppy bastard really. A big muscled, stupid, soppy bastard.
‘Yeah, but £750, Tom? How the hell do you have that kind of money?’
‘Savings,’ he shrugs. ‘All gone now though.’
‘Well you better start saving up sharpish, pretty boy, because dogs are expensive. And you need insurance.’
‘Yeah,’ he sighs, running his hand through his hair. ‘Maybe, I didn’t think all this through?’
‘Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. Plus, you’d better be able to still pay rent or you’re out on your arse.’
He nods. ‘I can still pay rent.’
I sigh. ‘The only other option is to send her to a dog’s home and we can’t do that.’
‘God, no.’ He cuddles Pickles close. ‘You’re not going anywhere, are you?’ he says in a weird baby voice.
‘God, you’re manly,’ I deadpan. ‘And what the hell made you come up with the awful name of Pickles?’
‘I just think it suits him.’ He shakes his head. ‘I mean her. Anyway, I’ll get on with ordering that lead.’
‘No rush on that,’ I scoff. ‘You can’t walk her until we know she’s had all of her jabs.’
‘What?’ he shrieks, his jaw open. ‘The whole point of getting a dog was to walk it. Now you’re telling me I have to wait until I can?’
I roll my eyes. ‘Yes, bimbo, you have to be patient. That’ll teach you a lesson for rushing into it. These things are as much of a commitment as a baby. Have you even thought about where she’s going to be during the day while you’re at work?’
‘Here with you?’ he shrugs.
Unbelievable. Murder sends you to prison. You’ll never become a fashion photographer with a criminal record.
‘Have you forgotten that I actually work too? I know I’m freelance, but I do need to leave the house to do photo shoots.’
He shrugs. ‘Jack said your work had dried up recently.’
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Does that mean Jack’s told him about the photos? I’ll fucking kill him if he has.
‘I’m still working, Tom. I haven’t retired.’
‘Then just take her with you. She can’t cause that much trouble. Everyone loves puppies, right?’
Famous last words.
Monday 22nd October
Alice
Another night of that goddamn dog crying at all hours. This time I ended up crawling into Tom’s bed. I’m actually starting to get desensitized to sleeping with him, and worse yet, liking the heat of his body against mine. I blame the wintry weather.
First thing, I’m googling how to stop your puppy crying in the night. I’m bombarded by information about crate training, clothes that smell of you, toys with heartbeats in them, and everything in between.
It’s giving me a headache just thinking about it. I storm into the kitchen, pissed beyond belief that Tom’s put this on me. It was hard enough getting a roommate and now I’m stuck with a dog too.
I turn the kettle on, desperate for a coffee. Something to shift this shit mood I’m in.
‘Good morning,’ Tom says, wiping the sleep out of his eyes as he walks into the kitchen carrying Pickles.
Damn it, what is it about a big burly man carrying a small dog that has me feeling all tingly? It must be the lack of sleep doing strange things to my mind. That’s all his fault.
‘Is it?’ I snap back, gritting my teeth.
His eyes widen. ‘Okay. I’m guessing you didn’t get much sleep last night.’
I’m too exhausted to even roll my eyes. ‘We have to get this sorted. I can’t be living like this. I feel like I have a newborn baby, for Christ’s sake.’
He grimaces. ‘Yeah, I’ll admit I didn’t exactly see it panning out like this.’
At least he’s big enough to admit when he’s wrong.
‘Yeah, well you wouldn’t, because you only ever think about things for two seconds. Unless it involves your dick.’
My eyes betray me by looking down at it bulging through his boxer shorts. Dang, he’s well endowed. No wonder he’s such a cocky bastard with that concealed weapon.
He catches me looking and smirks. ‘My eyes are up here,’ he says pointing dramatically to his face.
‘Oh, shut up, Tom.’ I feel my cheeks burning. I turn to watch the kettle.
‘Maybe you’re right.’
I stare back at him, dumbfounded. ‘I’m... I’m right? Sorry, what?’
He must be bloody sleep deprived if he’s telling me I’m right. It’s not his style to admit defeat so easily.
He sighs, putting Pickles down onto the floor. ‘Maybe we should give her to a rescue centre.’
My mouth drops open. ‘Tom! You can’t just abandon her just because you’re a frigging idi
ot. You know how over-run those places are. She could be in there for months, years even.’
He sits down at the kitchen table, his head in his hands. ‘I’m just so fucking tired. I have no idea how I’m going to work today.’
‘Me either,’ I nod. I can’t help but look at Pickles drinking out of her water bowl. If she was ugly, this would be so much easier.
His eyebrows move inwards towards each other. ‘You’re not working today, are you?’
‘Yeah,’ I nod, eyebrows furrowed. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ Since when has he been following my work schedule?
‘I looked at the calendar.’ He walks over to it. ‘You’ve got nothing written down.’
Jesus, since when did we become a married couple? I don’t have to check in with him.
‘Yes, I have. I wrote it in my handbag diary. I didn’t realise I had to confirm with you.’ I snort a laugh.
‘Jesus, woman. How many diaries do you need? Can’t you go digital like the rest of the world?’
I glare back at him. ‘I don’t know if you noticed, but I don’t like to follow the mass crowd.’
He snorts. ‘You can say that again.’
Grr, it’s okay when I say it. Not when he says it. Dickhead.
‘But I thought you’d be able to look after her. Your job is flexible, right? You can bring her along?’
Is he serious? ‘No, I bloody can’t. My jobs are just as important as yours.’
‘Well then, she’ll just have to stay here on her own. I’m already on thin ice at work. If I try to sneak a puppy in, they’ll fire me for sure.’
What the hell is he talking about? He’s never mentioned this before.
‘Thin ice? Why are you on thin ice?’
He avoids my eye-line, choosing instead to stare down at the table. ‘It’s a long story, but at the end of the day, I can’t bring her in to work with me.’
At the end of the day, he’s still an arse hat and yet again it’s all down to me.
‘Oh, and did you ever get back to Alfie?’
Bagging Alice (Standalone) (Babes of Brighton Book 3) Page 7
