by Dixie Cash
“Now, don’t cry, hon,” Edwina said, starting to sniff. “You know Vic and I will give him a good home.”
Debbie Sue’s eyes, too, had misted over. “And if they don’t, I will.”
Believing that her charges were going to homes that would give them as much love as she had given them had always been the only balm that made Sandi feel better. But today, that belief didn’t lessen the pain of parting with Jake. “I know”—her voice hitched—“It’s just that he needs so much attention and I’m afraid you’ll run out of patience with him. And I’m going to miss him so much.”
“Wellll,” Edwina said, pulling her into a hug and patting her shoulder. “It’ll be okay. Vic won’t get tired of him. And if you want to come see him, he’ll be just a few miles down the road.”
“I know.” Sandi pulled herself together. Barely holding her tears in check, she parted from Edwina’s hug and picked up the plastic tub. “I’ve brought you his toys and the parrot mash he likes and some of the treats I sell in my shop.”
“Parrot mash? Yuck. No wonder he went for beer and pizza.”
“Oh, Aunt Ed, please don’t feed him food like that. It’s so bad for him. The parrot mash is organic. It’s what he’s supposed to eat. I get it from one of my wholesalers. I’ll continue to get it and send it to you every month. It’s the least I can do for Jake. And for you, too.”
“That’s all he eats, huh?”
“That and some vegetables. He needs a variety of things. I also put some homemade parrot bread in the tub. I bake it in my shop in the form of muffins and sell it to bird owners. I baked for Jake a couple of days ago, so he still has a few little muffins left.”
“Wait a minute. You bake muffins for him?”
“Uh-oh,” Debbie Sue said, looking as if she was deep in thought. “Ed uses her oven for storing her shoes. But that’s not a problem,” she added quickly. “She can use mine. Just be sure to leave us the recipe.”
Sandi nodded. “I put the recipe in this tub. One a day is usually enough. He also needs salad greens every day. Organic if you can get them. No onions or garlic, of course. I shop for him at the farmer’s market.”
“My God. I have to make him a salad?”
“It only takes a few minutes, Aunt Ed. I buy the bagged broccoli slaw, then add some zucchini and yellow squash. Also, some kale. He loves kale. And nuts, like walnuts. Just give him a whole nut and he can crack it and get the meat out.”
“My God. He’s a gourmet?”
“You should feed him some fruit, too. He loves strawberries and kumquats—”
“Kumquats,” Debbie Sue said. “When was the last time I saw a kumquat, much less ate one?” She turned to Aunt Ed. “Does City Market sell kumquats? Or kale?”
“Hell, we’re lucky to get lettuce,” Aunt Ed answered. “I see both my grocery bill and my gasoline bill climbing. What else?”
“Oh, some blueberries, grapes...any of the dark fruits that are high in antioxidants.”
“Dark fruits. Antioxidants,” Debbie Sue said. “I should get a pencil and take notes.”
“I wrote it all down in a tablet and put it in his tub. Taking notes until you get used to his routine might help. A vegetable chopper is in the tub, too. It’s just an ordinary Hamilton Beach brand I got at Walmart. It’s perfect for chopping his food. I just put everything into the bowl and chop it up together. Takes only a few minutes.
“Oh, and you should sprinkle some of the parrot mash over his food when you offer it to him. It absorbs the fruit juices and enables him to get the benefit of the juice. Oh, and one more thing. At home, he has a table in his room to eat on. He seems to eat better if his food is sort of spread out on a table. In their natural environment, African Greys eat off the ground, like chickens do.”
“Hells bells, Sandi. I thought I just had to put a few seeds in a little cup. You didn’t tell me he was going to be a gourmet diner in his own room with his own table. Do we need to hire him a chef?” Aunt Edwina cackled.
“Here’s an idea,” Debbie Sue said. “You could simplify things if you and Vic started eating like he does, Ed. More veggies and less chicken-fried steak.”
“Are you kidding? Veggies ain’t replacing chicken-fried steak at our house. You know how Vic loves to cook. Now that I think about it, cooking for Jake will give him new purpose. On the other hand, knowing Vic, if Jake gets to be too much trouble, we’ll be eating chicken-fried parrot.”
Instantly she slapped her hand over her lips. “Ohmygod. I’m sorry.” She bent down and looked eye-to-eye at Jake. “I’m was kidding, Jake-O, okay? Just kidding.”
Jake cocked his head, closed his eyes and garbled something unintelligible.
“I’m not sure he has a sense of humor, Aunt Ed. I doubt he understands sarcasm.”
Edwina flipped a palm in the air. “Whatever. Don’t worry, I’m telling you. I’ll find the stuff he likes.”
“What else is in this tub?” Debbie Sue asked. She walked over and snapped the lid off the plastic storage tub. She lifted out the large spray bottle Sandi used to shower Jake. “What’s this?”
“It’s the spray bottle I use to give Jake a shower.”
“Did you say shower?” Aunt Ed asked.
“It sprays a fine mist. Don’t use the shower head, Aunt Ed. I think it’s too much water all at once. I just put his perch in the shower, he stands on it and I spritz him. He really loves it. You need to do it, oh, about once a week, I guess. Oh, and sometimes I let him play in the kitchen sink.”
“Eww. Yuck. The kitchen sink?” Her aunt stood there blinking, her dark brown eyes magnified by her thick glasses lenses. “I thought he said he didn’t like getting wet.”
“What he doesn’t like is water pouring on him. He seems to enjoy the fine mist the most. He hops around, even spreads his wings so you can spray under them. It’s so cute.”
“You’d better get on the road,” Debbie Sue said. “The longer you stay and talk, the more horrified your aunt gets.” She turned to Aunt Ed. “Don’t worry about it, Ed. Vic can shower him. Or maybe you could mist both of them together.” Debbie Sue belly-laughed. “I can already see it.”
Sandi managed a small laugh. “I guess that’s everything.” She gave a great sigh. “You can call me, of course, if you have any questions or any problems. And you can surf the Internet. There’s a lot of information on the Net and some good videos on YouTube.”
“I’m kind of a dinosaur when it comes to the computer, but Debbie Sue can look stuff up.”
Sandi nodded. “I have to go.” She turned to the cage, put her hand inside, brought Jake out and smoothed a finger over his head. “Mama’s going to leave you now. Try not to miss me. I’ll be thinking about you.”
Jake cocked his head and garbled from deep in his throat. “Kisses?”
“Ooh,” she whined. “Look at that. He knows I’m leaving. He’s going to miss me.” She sniffled and placed a gentle kiss on his beak. “Mama loves you, baby.”
He cooed softly.
Debbie Sue began to whimper. “That’s the sweetest thing I ever saw. He loves you, too, Sandi.”
“I know.”
Edwina sniffed, too. She grabbed another Kleenex out of a box on her station counter. “Don’t you worry, Sandi. Vic and I’ll take good care of him. He’ll have everything he wants. Hell, I’ll even hunt down tarantulas for him to eat.”
Sandi restrained her tears for a moment and frowned. “Those big hairy spiders? I doubt if he likes tarantulas, Aunt Ed.”
“Never mind. It was another joke. Obviously not a good one.”
Sandi left the Styling Station in tears. Her aunt and Debbie Sue stood in the doorway, wiping their eyes and blowing their noses. Black mascara had made trails down Aunt Ed’s cheeks. According to Sandi’s mother, Aunt Ed had been blinder than a bat her whole life. Sandi had often wondered how she managed to cake on so much black mascara if she needed such thick lenses to see.
***
Once Sandi was out of sight, Debb
ie Sue closed the Styling Station’s front door and locked it. “Let’s close this place up.” She turned to Edwina. “Wow, Ed. You’re going to be busy with ol’ Jake here.”
“He ain’t exactly a goldfish, is he?” Edwina wiped her eyes and blew her nose. “When do I have time to take care of a bird that’s this much trouble? I can see I should’ve gotten more information from my niece. I should’ve given this more thought. And I definitely should’ve discussed it with Vic.”
“But it’s supposed to be a surprise for Vic.”
“Yeah. Kind of like one of those messages from outer space surprises.”
“What happened to the idea of Vic taking him in the truck?”
“Oh, hell, Debbie Sue. That was BS. Vic won’t take a damn parrot in the truck with him. He’s gonna be busy driving and this silly bird’s gonna be stuck at home with nobody to talk to all day.”
“Who did he talk to in Midland? Isn’t Sandi gone from home all day? Didn’t he stay home alone?”
“Yes, but that was a temporary arrangement. I’m supposed to be what they call the permanent adoptive parent. I’m supposed to give him a loving home, a good environment and attention.”
Debbie Sue squatted in front of the cage and studied the parrot. “He’s really interesting, Ed. I love his red tail feathers.”
Jake whistled. “Hello, pretty lady.”
“We can get a handyman to build him a cage in the corner,” Debbie Sue continued. “That way, he won’t be alone.”
“Yeah, maybe. Hells bells and Jesus Christ. I’ll have to stay home three days a week just to fix his food. Look at his damn feet. Am I gonna have to give him a pedicure on top of everything else? Then there’s the cat. Gus is like a part of the family. What will he think?”
“Last I heard, Ed, a cat doesn’t get a vote in what goes on in someone’s household. Since Vic likes to cook, maybe he’ll fix his food and all of that.”
“You’re right about a cage here in the shop. Jake will have to come to the shop, that’s all there is to it.” Edwina threw up her hands. “Either that or I’ll have to find somebody to babysit him.”
“You’re too stressed out, Ed. This isn’t hard. He can come to the shop. It’s okay with me. Just put him in his cage and bring him. The customers will love him. And I’ll help you make his food.”
“Jake’s a good boy,” the parrot said and fluffed his whole body.
“Yes, you are, baby,” Debbie Sue said. “You’re a good boy. And a pretty boy.” She pushed her finger into the cage and rubbed his head.
Edwina gave the parrot a hard look, then turned back to Debbie Sue, her eyes brimming with tears. “I’ve really done a dumb-ass thing, haven’t I? I hate like hell to disappoint my niece, but tomorrow, I’m gonna call her and tell her she has to take her bird back.”
“No,” Debbie Sue said firmly. “Vic’s going to love him. And if it doesn’t work out for y’all, I told you I’d take him.”
“But Buddy—”
“Buddy will love him, too. I’ll make him.”
Chapter 8
Sandi hadn’t been gone from the Styling Station three minutes before she was awash in a full-on, throat-hitching boo-hoo, her vision blurred by tears. Hogg’s Drive-In was the nearest exit off the street. She pulled into the parking lot, barely avoided clipping the edge of Hogg’s ELVIS ATE HERE sign. She came to a stop and fell over the steering wheel sobbing.
Aware of a presence at her window, she looked up. Ohmygod! Nick Conway! And he was seeing her with her eyes and nose swollen and red and, no doubt, smeared makeup.
He bent down at the driver’s window, gesturing with a twirl of his finger for her to lower the window. She hesitated, then buzzed down the window.
“Ma’am, you need some help?”
“No. Just leave me alone.” She turned toward the passenger seat and rummaged in her oversized purse, came up with a Kleenex and blew her nose with a loud snort.
“Where you headed?”
“What?... Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m on my way home.”
“Midland?”
“Well ... yes, if you must know.”
He pointed behind himself with his thumb at Hogg’s building and the huge ELVIS ATE HERE sign. “You nearly ran over this outfit’s sign.”
Shit! The damn sign was as big as the side of a house and white lights raced around the outside edges. How could she almost run over it?
“You’re kind of upset to be driving as far as Midland,” he said. “I was just about to go inside for a bite to eat. Come inside with me and I’ll buy you supper. Maybe eating something would make you feel better.”
She drew a deep sniff. “I don’t need supper. I’m not hungry. And I’m not upset.”
“Okay. If you don’t want supper, I’ll buy you a cup of coffee. Or a Coke or something.”
She stared up into the bluest eyes she had ever seen framed by the blackest lashes. The world tilted. After a few beats, she lowered her gaze to her tightly clasped hands. “Uh, well...I haven’t eaten since breakfast. Maybe some food would make me feel better.”
“Good.” He opened her car door and held it for her to scoot out. Without pause, she started toward the entrance to the café.
“You’re not gonna take your key?”
She stopped and gave him a glower, then strode back to her SUV, yanked the key out of the ignition and started for the restaurant’s entrance again.
He followed. “You’re not gonna lock your door?”
“This is Salt Lick. No one steals cars in this town.”
She hardly recognized her own voice. Her nose was so plugged from crying, her speech was affected and she had to breathe through her mouth. Dear God. She had become a mouth-breather. And in the presence of the best-looking man she had met in years.
“’Zat right? If I were a car thief, I might think this is a pretty good place to practice my profession. The local sheriff is a joke.”
Without more talk, he held the entry door for her to walk through and they settled into one of the pink vinyl-upholstered booths. A larger-than-life black and white portrait of Elvis Presley hung on the wall directly in Sandi’s line of sight. Other ’60s memorabilia decorated the walls. Black and white tiles covered the floor in a checkerboard pattern. Black metal chairs with pink padded seats were parked at white Formica tables.
Sandi took all of it in, amazed. She had eaten Hogg’s food when Aunt Ed had provided it, but she had never been inside the restaurant. “This place looks like a cartoon,” she muttered.
“Food’s good though.”
She diverted her gaze to him. He was looking at her intently with those blue, blue eyes, his forearms resting on the table and showing pronounced veins below his rolled-up sleeves. A little buzz zinged through her system.
He smiled, showing perfect straight teeth. He certainly had a good dentist. “You’re staring at me. What’s wrong? Is my eye makeup smeared all over my face?”
“Only a little.”
She quickly wiped under her eyes with her fingertips. “Better?”
“You look great. We ran into each other yesterday at that beauty parlor for dogs up in Midland. My name’s Nick Conway in case you forgot. But I didn’t catch your name.”
True. With all of the commotion of feisty puppies barking and milling and Prissy swooning, she hadn’t introduced them. A memory of what Fiona had said about him and Sylvia Armbruster burst into Sandi’s head: ...I know absolutely everything about him, and I mean everything. I even know the size of his ding-dong. Why do you think I’m dying to meet him? A guy who brings that much to the party? Well ... what can I say?...
Sandi’s cheeks warmed at awareness of such intimate details about this man who was a virtual stranger. Was what Fiona had said true? Sandi couldn’t keep a visual from forming. Then, there was the encounter on the highway earlier.
...Speaking of plans, is it your plan to stand in the road and get run over? Do I need to get another rope?...
She stil
l smarted over that tacky remark.
After all of that, how could she not feel as if she knew him? But she wasn’t sure she liked him. Why had she agreed to have a meal with a jerk, sexy with a big ding-dong or otherwise? “Did you fix the fence?”
“Nope. I don’t fix fences. But I got somebody else to do it.”
She waited for more information. When none came, she said, “My name’s Sandi. I own LaBarkery a few doors down the mall from the Pampered Pooch.”
“What’s that, a dress store?”
Was he dense or what? “Who would name a dress shop LaBarkery? I sell gourmet food for dogs and cats. And a few other pets.”
“You don’t say.”
She made a mental gasp. He had absolutely no interest in who she was or what she did. “I made up the name myself. Bark as in LaBarkery? Get it? It’s supposed to be clever.”
“I get it. I didn’t know pets needed gourmet food.”
“Gourmet might be the wrong word. What I sell, really, is fresh, healthy food I make myself.”
“Sounds expensive. Speaking of food, what would you like to eat?”
She gave him a squint-eye, then swept her gaze up to the white menu with black letters and numbers hanging over the order counter. Hogg’s was supposed to be a fast-food place, but their menu was widely varied.
When she didn’t answer right away, he said, “Order whatever you like. I’m gonna have the Hogg’s Special.”
“What is that?”
“It’s a burger.” He pointed to the menu. “Look at Number One.”
She read through the description of Number One: Double lean beef patties, three thick slices of bacon, two slices of cheddar cheese, grilled onions and jalapenos. And a fried egg. All of it topped off with a Texas-size helping of Hogg’s homemade chili. It came with a pile of French fries drenched with Hogg’s special sauce.
She turned back to him, her eyes bugged. “Oh, my Lord. If you eat all that, you might need an ambulance. And the last I heard, the nearest hospital is all the way up in Odessa.”
“I like living dangerous. What would you like to eat? Go ahead and order.”
