by Jerry Cole
“Ah,” Brandon said. “About that.”
Trying not to let his disappoint show on his face, Brent mentally ticked Brandon off his client list already. This was his first day and he was already behind the eight ball. Dammit.
“I was wondering if we could amend the contract?”
Brent frowned. “Oh?”
Brandon looked sheepish, which was doing nothing to help Brent’s annoyance and panic. “When I signed up to your website, I was under the impression it was a day thing and not just a walking thing.”
“You thought I had a doggy day care?” Brent wanted to take the words out of his mouth as quickly as they’d left, but Brandon was already nodding.
“Exactly! I work strange and long hours, and it’s not fair on Saskia to be alone so long.”
Brent blew out a slow breath, trying not to let on how relieved he was. “I don’t mind taking her for as long as you need me to.”
Brandon hesitated and then gestured behind him, into the apartment. “Wanna come in?”
There was a voice that sounded suspiciously like his mother’s telling him not to walk into a stranger’s apartment, but both Amanda and Polly knew he was coming here, so he was sure someone would come looking for him eventually. “Sure.”
The apartment was smaller than Brent’s, but no less nice. There was a large dog on the couch, Brent thought it was an Australian Shepherd, and as he approached, she jumped down, immediately coming over to sniff him.
“She’s friendly.”
Brandon sighed. “A little too friendly sometimes. Don’t be fooled by this,” he said, gesturing at her. “She can be a pain in the ass.”
The dog—Saskia—sat back on her haunches, looking as innocent as Juliette tried to. “She has that look down,” Brent said with a laugh. “Reminds me of my dog.”
“What do you have?”
“Pitbull,” Brent said, expecting the derision and criticism, but Brandon just smiled. “So, about this extended looking after?”
Brandon perched on the edge of the couch, rubbing at his knee. “I understand what you must be thinking, that I shouldn’t have a dog.”
“I wasn’t thinking that,” Brent said. “As long as you have everything in place to make sure they’re not alone too long and get the love and stuff they need, I don’t care.”
Hesitating, Brandon looked surprised, as if Brent was saying something he didn’t expect. Brent could well understand people had a lot to say—they usually did about his choice of breed—so he could imagine someone criticizing Brandon for lack of attention.
“Will your apartment permit more than one dog?”
“Sure,” Brent said. “I have permission for two. I’m a dog walker primarily, but if I’m gonna be nanny to Saskia here,” he said, giving her an ear rub, “then she’s permitted in my apartment. If I ever expand the day-care, I’ll sort something.”
“Cool,” Brandon said.
After that, it was easy enough to negotiate times and prices, and Brent harnessed Saskia and led her out to the sidewalk. He was really going to have to buy a truck, something like that would definitely help. Right now, his clients were close to his apartment, but that wouldn’t always be the case.
Saskia was alert and sniffed everything, so it wasn’t unlike walking Juliette. Brent still had their first meeting to go, and if Juliette wasn’t usually a breeze around other dogs, he’d probably be nervous. The apartment building was empty, and Brent managed to get Saskia to his apartment with no trouble. Juliette didn’t start barking until Brent had the door open and she caught sight of a new dog in her territory.
“Juliette,” Brent admonished, and though she didn’t bark again, she approached cautiously, growling in the back of her throat. “Be nice!”
Saskia stood stock still as Juliette started sniffing, growl petering off into a whine as Saskia returned her sniffs, turning in kind. She was still harnessed, and tugged Brent forward a few steps, but eventually Juliette lost interest and disappeared back down the hall.
“Welcome to the apartment,” Brent tossed Saskia’s leash on the counter. He had another dog to walk at lunchtime, but until then he had time to kill. There was still enough packing to do in the apartment to keep him busy, and he set about unboxing the rest of his kitchen appliances.
Saskia and Juliette were both content to laze around the living room while Brent worked, and he was distracted enough that when his phone started ringing with his alarm, he jumped and fumbled for it.
He had a half hour to get across town, which was plenty of time, and he tossed both girls a biscuit before grabbing his keys and coat. As he opened the door, barking filled the hallway, alternating with whining. Brent shut the door to his apartment before Saskia and Juliette could start up and turned toward the exit.
Brent recognized the dog as his neighbor’s, still dressed in the service dog harness, but there was no sign of his owner. “Hey, where’s your owner, boy?”
The dog remained in place, whining and barking, leash trailing the ground. As Brent rounded the stair block, he was startled to see his neighbor on the stairs, cradling his head in his heads.
“Hey, you all right?”
There was no reply, and Brent could see the guy’s hands shaking, his body wracked with tremors.
“Shit,” Brent muttered, and tugged his phone out of his pocket. Shooting his client an apology for the delay, but he’d be there as soon as he could, he shoved it back in his coat and crouched down in front of the guy. Thankfully he was sitting at the bottom of the steps, which made it easier to talk to him. “Hey.”
Again, there was no reply, but the guy seemed to suck in a breath.
“You all right if I touch you?”
“No.” The reply was shaky and gasped, but audible.
“All right.” Brent felt useless but could at least hang on to the dog leash. “Do you need me to call someone?”
“No,” was the same reply. “I’m fine.”
“No offense,” Brent offered. “But I don’t think you are. Slow down your breathing, okay?”
The guys hands dropped, and Brent assumed he was glaring, but he was gasping too hard to make it threatening.
“Slow down,” Brent said, trying to keep his tone even. “You can yell at me later. Slow down your breathing, in and out.”
Repeating the words over and over was probably irritating, but they had the benefit of slowing the guy’s breathing. He still looked annoyed, but his expression was slowly clearing, the shaking tapering out into gentle delayed tremors.
“Fuck.”
Brent didn’t know what else to say, just kept a hand tight around the dog leash and the other keeping him balanced in his crouch. “Better?”
“Yeah.” The guy rubbed at his face, swiping at tears Brent pretended not to see. He’d never seen someone have a panic attack before, could only remember having one himself as a kid, but though it had been scary, he could only imagine how his neighbor was feeling. “Marc.”
Brent frowned. “What?”
“My name is Marc,” his neighbor said, lips forming a small, wry smile. “Figured you should have my name if I’m going to panic in front of you.”
“Brent.” Brent stared down at his dog. “Your dog’s kinda invaluable, huh?”
Marc stared down at the dog, and immediately grabbed it, holding it in his arms and breathing out slowly. “Definitely.”
Silence fell, and it stretched out awkwardly. Marc looked embarrassed, but Brent didn’t know how to tell him not to be. There was nothing he could do to stop a panic attack.
“You all right now?”
Marc blinked slowly. “Yeah. I think I’ll go back to my apartment.”
Brent bit at his bottom lip. “You sure there’s nobody I can call?”
“My family lives in Canada,” Marc said with a shrug. “No, really. I promise I’ll be fine.”
Brent didn’t quite believe it, but he wasn’t about to push himself on a stranger. If it was him, he’d run a mile as soon
as he’d recovered. “All right then. Later, dog.”
Brent gave the dog another scratch and pushed himself to his feet, groaning as his knees protested.
“His name’s Stanley,” Marc offered as a parting shot.
“Bye, Stanley,” Brent said with a grin, and though it still felt wrong to leave, he had a client waiting. He hoped Marc would be all right back in his apartment, but once he’d walked his client’s dogs and dropped Saskia back to Brandon, he’d check in. It was neighborly.
Chapter Four
Brent stared down the hall at the four doors. One of them belonged to Marc, but he hadn’t stuck around long enough to see which one Marc had disappeared into. He couldn’t knock on every door and ask if Marc lived there. Feeling like an idiot, Brent turned back to his own apartment, shutting the door and giving Juliette her welcome pat.
“Sorry, girl,” he said, bending down. “Had a busy day, huh?”
Juliette gave him a few good licks on the neck and then trotted back down the hall.
What was it about Marc that had him wanting to check up on him? He’d helped people before and never felt the need to search them out and make sure they were okay. Brent made a face at himself. People wrote stories about his behavior on the internet. Marc was hot, but that didn’t mean he was even gay, or that Brent would be his type if he was.
God, Brent needed to get out and find someone to date. He was clearly going to drive himself mad if he kept this up. Besides, he had too much to do to occupy himself with his ailing love life, and as much as Brent wanted to find Marc, he still had moving in to do. If Polly came for the weekend like she was threatening, she would kick his ass if he didn’t finish unpacking.
The living room was the best place to start, he figured, and started stacking the boxes currently hiding the couch against the wall. He was surrounded by boxes, a pop tune blasting from his phone, when there was a knock on the door. He scrambled to his feet, jumping over one of the boxes while Juliette raced down the hall, barking and sniffing at the door. Brent tugged her back, a tight grip on her collar as he opened the door. He was startled to see Marc on the other side, looking awkward, staring down at the floor instead of at Brent.
“Uh, one sec,” Brent said, and led Juliette over to the bedroom, shutting her in and turning back to the door. “Sorry about that. She’s still getting used to rules.”
Marc finally met his eyes, looking a little uncomfortable. “I just wanted to thank you.”
Brent scratched at the back of his head, shrugging. “Honestly, it’s no problem. I’d do it for anyone.”
“Most people would ignore it,” Marc said, hands tucked in his pockets.
Now he was here, Brent didn’t know what to say. He’d had it all planned earlier, when he was the one to approach Marc, but now he was struggling—and probably looked as awkward as Marc. There was no sign of Stanley, which was an improvement in and of itself for Marc, who Brent had yet to see without him. When Brent said so, Marc’s eyebrows raised. “I only live next door.”
Brent rolled his eyes, laughing self-deprecatingly. “I’m such an idiot. I stood staring at the doors down there, trying to figure out which one you lived in.” Marc snorted, and Brent grinned. “I heard a dog in there the first day I moved in. Should definitely have put it together.”
“To be fair,” Marc started. “Everyone on this floor could have a dog.”
“Yeah.” Brent rubbed at his forehead. “Again, not the sharpest guy around.”
“You’re all right,” Marc said, and his smile this time as wider and more genuine. “I just wanted to say thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Brent said again. He wanted to invite Marc in, at least offer a drink. The two of them stared at each other for long enough Brent assumed one of them would, but then Marc nodded, decisively but more to himself, before turning away. Brent didn’t want to let him go so soon. “Uh, Marc?”
Marc looked back over his shoulder.
“Do you wanna grab a drink?”
Marc’s face shifted through a range of emotions, all gone too quickly for Brent to pinpoint one, and then hesitated, shaking his head quickly. “I shouldn’t. I need to,” he said, and then waved a hand in the direction of his apartment. “Stanley.”
Before Brent could point out he could bring Stanley over too, Marc had darted inside of his apartment and shut the door.
Well. Brent had never been rejected more effectively than that. Getting the brush off from Marc was one thing, but Brent hadn’t done anything wrong, had he? Maybe Marc wasn’t the drinking type? Or maybe, he thought, going over what he’d actually said, maybe Marc didn’t want to go out. He should have spoken clearer.
Shutting the door before he could get too wound up about it, Brent let Juliette out of the bedroom and told himself to let it go. Marc was a neighbor. However hot he was, he was clearly not interested in hanging out with Brent, whether they’d got their wires crossed or not.
Still, it opened up the idea Brent needed to find friends. He didn’t know many people in Chicago, and it would be a little weird to contact Brandon and ask if he wanted to hang out, when he was merely the doggy nanny.
Sitting back down amongst the boxes, he muttered to himself about the state of living in a new city without friends. When he was done with the unpacking—or at least was annoyed enough he didn’t want to do it anymore—he grabbed his laptop and settled on the couch that was now free of boxes and items that had yet to find a home. Juliette jumped up on the other end, shuffling on her stomach, because she knew she wasn’t supposed to be on the furniture. Brent didn’t have the heart to kick her off but looked at her out of the corner of his eye as she hesitated before resting her head on his leg. He absently scratched behind her ears as he set up a blog, deciding to take Amanda’s advice and put something in place that would make him more attractive to news outlets.
Brent tipped his head back against the couch and sighed. “What have I got going for me, huh?” Predictably, Juliette just stared at him, whining and pushing up into Brent’s hand. “I’ve got an unsteady job at the moment, a nice apartment sure, but a degree that’s useless and a love for dogs.”
Juliette closed her eyes, tail hitting the couch with every wag. Brent wondered what it would be like if he could get away with that; sleeping and whining the day away. He huffed a laugh.
“That last one is definitely a seller for me,” he pointed out. He’d dated a couple of times back home, but his coming out was a new thing, and he didn’t quite know how a guy threw himself into the gay world. He didn’t want to announce it on social media—he knew too many people from his mom’s church to make that a viable solution—but he could probably get away with going to bars and making himself available.
Polly might have been onto something with Boystown.
Brent wasn’t in the habit of trolling bars for a partner. There was always online dating, but he didn’t want to accidentally invite the wrong person back to his apartment and end up dead.
“Guess I’ll be alone forever,” he said, shutting the laptop and scowling at the opposite wall. “I really need to set up the TV. Why haven’t I done that yet?”
Chapter Five
“We should hang out,” Brandon said, when Brent dropped Saskia off the next day.
Brent raised his eyebrows. “I thought about asking you last night,” he said slowly, a wry smile on his face. “But I figured, I’m just the doggy nanny.”
Brandon nodded, gesturing for Brent to come into the apartment. “Come on, I’ll grab you and Juliette a drink.”
Chuckling, Brent kept a hold of Juliette’s leash until they were inside and the door was shut. He unclipped the leash but left her in the harness. She looked back over her shoulder at him, and he gestured forward. “Go on. Be polite.”
When she’d finally raced into the living room, leaping and sniffing around Saskia, Brent followed Brandon through to the kitchen.
“How long have you lived in Chicago?”
“A year,” B
randon said, grabbing two beers from the fridge. “I transferred for work and liked it enough I had to stay. What made you choose Chicago?”
“Honestly?” Brent took the proffered beer and took a mouthful. “I was looking for apartments out of state, my family lives in New York, and a friend told me about an apartment he had in Chicago that was vacant. I kinda took it sight unseen.”
Brandon winced. “I’m guessing it worked out?”
Brent laughed. “Yeah, otherwise I’d be on my way back to New York already.”
Tipping his bottle in acknowledgement of the point, Brandon left the kitchen and headed for the living room, grinning at Saskia and Juliette, both spread out on the carpet in front of the window.
Brent looked out of the window. Brandon’s apartment was in the town proper, looking over a view of Lake Michigan, and Brent whistled low. “Nice view.”
“It’s all right,” Brandon allowed, grinning as Brent nudged him with an elbow. “Yeah, fine, it’s a good view. The reason I bought the apartment.”
It was a good reason. Brent would have done the same, as long as the rent was right. He didn’t have a steady income like Brandon. Wrinkling his nose, Brent stuck his free hand in his pocket. “Do you like it here?”
Brandon nodded, joining Brent at the window. He was attractive, Brent thought, but unlike with Marc, there wasn’t that spark telling him to strike up a conversation and actually make a move. This was more an appreciation. “So, are you sticking around then?”
Brent thought about the question honestly. It wasn’t that he didn’t love Chicago, but he’d always been family oriented and, even with his sisters growing up and moving out, there would always be a part of him that would want to be around them. He could love Chicago as much as he wanted, but unless he found a job—and fast—he would be hard pressed to stick around. Tucking his tail between his legs and running home would be a step down, but not one he was averse to taking if he needed to. “I hope so. Depends on the job.”
“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Brandon said, dropping onto the end of the couch. He wasn’t looking at Brent, staring out at Chicago, but it was an intense expression. Brent had a feeling he wasn’t seeing anything out of the window at all. “Word of mouth goes a long way and a lot of my co-workers have dogs. I could always throw in a good word for you.”
