by Alexa Davis
26. Callie
Everyone seemed happy to see me, and I was even able to pow wow with Shaylen while I prepped the grooming station for the first appointments of the day. It took less than an hour at the shop to realize that I was more in the way than helpful. It was a little heartbreaking, but I was so proud of my employees for not only getting the job done, but for being so organized that they didn’t need me at all, that I had Shaylen come with me to finish our legislative talk on the road while I bought her coffee and picked up cashier’s checks for each of my crew.
It was a relief to hear that I had stopped being inundated with voicemail messages because the filibuster against the proposed laws that our animal cruelty law had been attached to had failed. It was an equal reprieve that Shaylen reported a great deal of interest from law enforcement in TAWSAD. Prison officials had even come to her for information on a program to help rehabilitate incarcerated offenders, while training shelter dogs.
I offered to help in any way she needed, but once Shaylen noticed the ring on my finger, she insisted I focus on my wedding and TAWSAD. Then she dropped a bomb I never would have expected, just as I handed out the last cashier’s check to my day manager, with a hug and a thank you.
“So, when the lieutenant governor said he wanted someone to speak about the Train a Warrior, Save a Dog program, we naturally suggested you and George. After all, he’s a hero, you’re the savior of heroes…” I gaped, almost unable to even hear, let alone comprehend what she was saying. “It will generate money, especially with George being injured in the service.”
“Wait. You want us to use George’s injury to get money for the program?” I asked, aghast at the suggestion.
“Oh, God, no,” she replied. “I just meant that, unlike psychological issues, George has a visible, physical injury, which people give more credit to than just PTSD. We both know the civvies can’t seem to wrap their heads around invisible injuries. George is the poster boy for heroism and resilience. All he’d have to do is take a couple of lunches. No big crowds.”
“I can’t speak for him, but he is certainly proud of Xavier. And, you’re right, he does make an impression, striding along with that cane of his.”
“Gross. You’re practically drooling, just thinking of him. I never would’ve believed two people could like each other this long, if it wasn’t for the two of you being all over each other since the seventh grade.” I laughed at her.
“Shay, there was no ‘all over’ until at least the ninth grade.”
“Ewww.”
I laughed again. It was good to be home and not be afraid. There had been no shadowed figures lurking on the ranch. No one had come looking for us to cause trouble, and the fire marshal had told the men in town over and over that the fire truly seemed to be a case of opportunity, not malice toward me or Slinky.
I couldn’t wait to get home to my little rambler and cook a meal for George while we discussed our future together and what his ideas for that were. He may not have wanted to talk about it in the truck, but I was fairly sure that some carne asada and Dos Equis and a little floor time with Xavi the wonder dog would loosen him up enough to even enjoy the conversation.
Having been usurped by my astute and awesome team, I left Slinky to be groomed and walked down to the taqueria a few blocks down from the shop. In my rusty Spanish, I ordered marinated carne asada, and I picked up a stack of their gluey, thin-pressed, uncooked tortillas. Next on my list was ripe limes for both the beers and the tacos, and soft, almost overripe avocados for guacamole. I considered the state of my pantry for a moment and added garlic and cilantro to the list. I mentally crossed my fingers that the tomatoes and onions in my garden hadn’t come to some catastrophe while I was away, and added a few dessert items to my basket.
By the time they’d packaged up the thinly sliced, marinated beef, I had a full basket of goodies to go with. At the register, I picked up a few chili-powder dusted tamarind suckers for myself. As I trudged up the sidewalk in the baking sun, I thanked God I’d been smart enough to buy the cheap, old fridge that was in my office. The summer heat was much worse when we weren’t on the ranch, and even if it only took him twenty minutes to pick me up, dinner would’ve been ruined before I started.
One of the groomers finally let me take a couple of her appointments while she ate a late lunch, and once I’d de-furred my smock and cleaned up the hair of a cocker spaniel who left cooler and much happier after her summer shave, I texted the love of my life to ask if he’d weathered his storm.
The groomers kicked me out of the dog salon, and I took the opportunity to chat with the older ladies who treated the shop as their very own hang out, using the indoor play yard to let their Pomeranians and Shi Tzu romp together, while the ladies gossiped about the upper crust and their neighbors.
Another hour passed, and no word from George. Finally, I gave up and called my father instead, with the same result. It wasn’t until later, when my phone buzzed in my pocket, that it occurred to me that either with Bill, or after talking to him, the guys might have headed over to Shelly’s. Sure enough, his text was short and to the point. Jackson had finished his computer audit, but Bill hadn’t been at work that day and hadn’t returned Tom’s calls.
Shaylen came by on her way over to the veterinarian for some medicines the shelter was short on, and I asked her to give me a ride back to my house on the way. She agreed, and I sent George a text to let him know I wouldn’t need a ride and told him I’d have dinner ready for him, if he didn’t waste too much time with the guys.
I was sure his crew mates would be happy to see him, especially since we hadn’t been back since the fire. I checked my watch and did the math, adding in time for a beer at the guys’ favorite dive bar. I had plenty of time to make the kind of dinner that would have George grateful he’d had the brains to ask me to marry him.
I mashed up avocados and added them to the garlic and tomato salsa I’d just made, then I started on the tres leches cake I’d picked out at the grocery store. The grill was nearly hot enough to start cooking the meat, and I finally preheated the oven for the cake, with the hope that I’d waited long enough that the house didn’t heat up too badly. I mixed the cake ingredients, going back to check my mother’s recipe with every instruction, even though I’d made it a hundred times before. I put the cake in the oven and set the timer with a few minutes to spare, just in case the ancient appliance decided to ignore the thermostat and go rogue on me.
I texted George again, hoping to get a better arrival time for him, but he didn’t answer right away, so I cut more limes and charred some green onions while I gave him more time. Finally, my phone buzzed, but before I could wipe my hands and grab it off the counter, my doorbell rang. I snagged a dishtowel from its hook and wiped my hands, then tied the towel around my waist as an apron as I opened the door. My heart was racing at the thought of finally being in his arms again.
I threw open the door with grin that slid from my face instantly as I recognized the red, blotchy face in front of me.
“Bill, what are you doing here?” I asked as I pulled the door against my body. “My dad’s been looking for you.” He took a step closer, and my throat closed off.
“I know he has. I need to come in.” Instead of letting him inside, I put my foot behind the door to help brace it from being opened.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. How about you wait here, and I’ll call him?” I cursed myself for leaving the phone behind on the kitchen counter. He took another step, and I slammed the door shut and flipped the bolt, but he shoved the door open enough so fast, that the bolt engaged on the outside of the lock, keeping the door from closing again. He pushed his way in and grabbed my arm before I could run.
“Have a seat; I need to say something to you.” As he stepped further into the light from the shadow of the front porch, it was easier to see his bleary eyes and blotchy red face.
“You’re drunk, Bill. Let me call someone to get you home.” He shoved me toward
the couch and ordered me to sit. I glanced behind me at my phone, lying on the speckled, quartz counter top. Bill noticed where my eyes went and tossed the phone to me.
“You can make your call. Just let me talk first.” I peeked down at the screen, but no word from George. “I just need to talk to you first.” I nodded and set the phone on the arm of the sofa, at my elbow.
“Go ahead, Bill. I’m listening.” Slinky trotted over from where she’d been snoozing, lying in wait for the smell of cooking meat before she accosted me. He reached down and gently scratched behind her ears, and I noticed both of his hands were bandaged.
“Bill? You said you wanted to talk to me, remember?” He glared balefully at me and sat down, and Slinky happily sat between his knees, waiting for more love. My heart lurched, watching my guileless sweet dog at the mercy of the man who’d nearly killed her.
“I won’t hurt your pup,” he groused, rubbing her face and ears almost tenderly. “I never meant to hurt your little girl, here.” I let my disbelief show in my face, but said nothing. He held up his hands to display the gauze burn gloves he wore. They were graying and dirty, and the fingers that were bare were still pink and a little raw. “I pulled her out. I didn’t know she was in there until she barked.”
“You still set the fire, Bill.” My voice was hard.
“Do you know how long I was drunk after my sweet Cathy died?” I shook my head in the negative. “Three years I spent at the bottom of a bottle. I would’ve likely stayed there, too. But, one day I made a mistake. It was caught, but if the switch had been left, it could’ve brought the whole building down in a good storm.”
He leaned back in the chair and stared me in the eyes. “I never touched alcohol again after that. Got my two-year chip and everything. I got cleaned up, worked hard, and even met a nice girl who loved me even though I was half the man I’d been before.”
I shifted uneasily in my seat. My stomach had ceased careening around inside me, but I had the worst suspicion that I knew what he was going to say next, and I truly did not want to know. He was quiet for a few seconds, but it felt like hours sitting there, listening for my cake timer to go off so I’d have an excuse to stand.
“Bill, is it time to make that call now?” I asked. I was nervous enough that my voice sounded pathetic and weak to me, and he barely registered the question.
“Did you know Bridgette well?” he asked. I recognized the name, but she’d been just enough older than me that she hadn’t spared me the time of day when she’d worked for my dad. She’d had no problem making eyes at George when he’d first started, though. I sighed and put the thought out of mind.
“Not really,” I replied, when I realized he was waiting for an answer.
“Bridgette was a lot younger than me, but she was beautiful, smart, and she loved me. She said she loved me,” he corrected.
“Your dad has everything. Success, a good wife, a great kid,” he gave me a wan smile. “I had nothing but Bridgette. He didn’t have to take her, too. But, he could, so he did.” I gulped and stammered, but couldn’t find a response. “I worked hard for him, I considered him a friend. God, I even drove you and George home from a party because he was too drunk to drive and you were scared to try to drive him home alone. I was good to Tom, and his family, and that’s how he repaid me.”
“What about George? He respected you, admired you. He said you taught him everything worth knowing about building. Did you think of how you affected guys like him who look up to you? And, what about Bridgette? Does she get to share the blame?” I asked, fine, hot loyalty stiffening my spine and coloring my face.
“Tom didn’t just ask once, Callie. He asked day after day, no matter how many times she said no. He gave her presents until she stopped refusing them and took her to away conferences to get her alone with him. Eventually, she gave in because he was the boss. Then, she started to believe he’d fallen in love with her and would take care of her forever, and she told me she was leaving me.”
He stood up and paced the room, like a mountain lion stalking cattle – which made me the weak link.
My phone buzzed at my elbow, but this time I ignored it, praying it was George on his way and not wanting to draw attention to it.
“So, you started switching materials on him, to ruin his reputation,” I prompted.
“First, I made Bridgette tell your mother everything. I forced her to quit, and I threatened to tell every human being she knew what a whore she was, from her parents to her pastor, if she didn’t admit to the affair and apologize in person. Then I kicked her out of my house.” He rubbed the back of his head, making his oily hair stand on end.
“Why not just talk to my dad? Why go further?” Why ruin your reputation with so many guys who would’ve walked away from Drake Construction if you’d asked? I thought to myself.
“I thought of all people, you’d understand. Bridgette said he knew. He knew we were together, and he just took whatever he wanted without a care in the world.” His voice got louder with each word until he was shouting at me. My hands flew up between us in self-defense as spittle flew from his mouth and hit my cheek.
“Goddamn it, Callie, I’m not going to hurt you. I just wanted you to see Tom for what he is: selfish and disloyal.”
“You think I didn’t know that? Bill, he tore our family apart over some midlife…whatever. I’m sorry he hurt you, too.” I picked up the phone. “Maybe you can work this out. I know he wouldn’t want to put you behind bars…I don’t know, maybe we don’t have to call the police.” I entered my pin, but he snatched the phone out of my hand before I could do anything else.
“No. I started that fire. I ran back into it to save your little girl, but the police are already looking for me. Tom ruined my life, and now I’m going to jail, or prison. I really don’t much know the difference.”
“You don’t know the difference because you’re not a criminal. Let me talk to my dad and see if there’s anything he can do to help…”
“No!” he cut me off. “I’d rather die than have to go to your father for help.”
“But, what about George? What about Nell? You care about them. All those guys care about you. Obviously, someone cared enough to help you steal materials from the job sites.”
“Nobody likes to see the boss use his authority to screw their friends’ women.” He juggled the phone and tossed it back to me. “I just wanted you to know that I never hurt your dog on purpose, and I’m really sorry that I gave you that scare.” He pointed at the phone. “You did your part and listened. You can go one and make that call now. I got nothing left to say.”
I pushed the button that lit up the screen, and unlocked my phone. I skipped over the notification from George, and pulled up my keypad. My fingers were lead, refusing to move over the numbers for the Austin PD. The timer for my cake dinged, and I had an idea. I quickly texted George that Bill was at the house and warned him to come in quietly, not aggressively.
“Bill, before we call the police, why don’t you stay for dinner?” He looked at me, his wide eyes shining with tears. “When was the last really good home-cooked meal you had?” He shook his head and shrugged.
“I don’t cook, much. It’s mostly sandwiches and burgers at my house.”
“Then stay. Talk to George. I will leave out the part where you scared the shit right out of me, tell him not to bring my dad, and he can at least say goodbye to someone he cares about. You know, instead of showing up here to police lights and you in handcuffs.” Bill hid the tears that leaked from the corners of his eyes and sniffed.
“That cake does smell good,” he admitted. He looked around him and noticed the barbeque coals smoking outside. “Want me to put some meat on the grill?”
“Hell, no. Look at what happens to you when you get near an open flame,” I teased and handed him a bottle of water. “No beer for you, I’m afraid. But sit yourself down and I’ll get dinner made.” I looked over the food I’d prepped for George and me and sighed. “So much for rom
antic evening alone,” I muttered under my breath.
A quick search of the fridge and pantry revealed a bag of tortilla chips that were, thankfully, not stale and a container of homemade refried beans from Shaylen’s mom that I hadn’t had a chance to eat yet.
I heated the beans and put out chips, beans, and salsa to help make the carne asada go further, and was just about to stoke the coals and fire up the meat when George strode in, Xavi by his side and an anxious look on his face.
“Just in time, dear,” I set the tray of meat down and handed him a bottle of water. “Why don’t you sit down and relax; dinner will only be about five minutes.” He nodded and rubbed one hand on his jeans, jangling Xavi’s leash. Bill looked up and Slinky loped over for her head scratch.
I nodded in encouragement, and George sat across from Bill, the dogs between them. Two sadder faces I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen.
27. George
Tom, Tucker, and I had taken Jackson to lunch after his audit, and Tom had continued to try to reach Bill. He seemed reticent to call the police, and I figured it was out of loyalty to his guys, that he didn’t want to make trouble. Jackson never could pinpoint the ones who’d helped Bill get the supplies on and off the sites, but Tom figured catching Bill would serve as enough warning to stop anyone else from trying.
I felt my pulse increase and my face and neck get hot, thinking about letting anybody off that easy. It made me crazy to see Tom just sitting there, calm as an oak tree, ready to let thousands of dollars in losses go. But he was the boss, and it wasn’t up to me in the end.
Before the end of lunch, Tom managed to turn the topic to me and my business wishes. I outlined my basic idea of branching out from the couple small job sites he was willing to subcontract to me, and he agreed with the business plan I’d worked on with Nell and even Danny when I went back to the ranch. Jackson offered to help with computer setup, and Tucker had roped me into using his law firm. He even knew of a piece of real estate belonging another client, who would be willing to sell it to me – over an acre of land that I could use for machinery storage and materials.
