“I know it’s wrong, but he doesn’t come in often at all. Wiz just kind of lingers around the vet, and I bring him upstairs to the humane society to be loved. I’m sorry.”
Tears formed in the brim of her eyes, and she reached out to grab my elbow.
“Please don’t tell on me. Dr. H only comes in on emergency vet calls now. Dr. Skeen is our full-time doc. It’s really a sad story.”
“I won’t,” I said and truly meant it. She was well-intentioned with her actions. I could definitely relate to Wiz. Unlike him, I chose to distance myself from my family, while he didn’t have a choice in the matter. Dr. H just left him in a vet’s office, and the way she described his life, it was very similar to my own. I’d lingered through life for years now. I didn’t have a purpose. I just endured my days until one day I could finally be laid to rest.
She wrapped her arms around my neck, and Wiz meowed in protest since she squished his body between the two of ours. I just stood there with my arms straight to my sides, not wanting to hug a complete stranger. I wasn’t that person anymore. Finally, I gave into her and awkwardly patted her on the back a few times. Satisfied with the half-hearted embrace we shared, she pulled away from me and quietly smiled.
“Oh, thank you!” she quickly exclaimed, putting her nose against Wiz’s. “I’m sorry, but you needed a hug, too.”
He meowed in response, and she carefully set him down onto the floor. He gave a quick glance backward to the two of us before slinking around the corner and out the door.
She smiled and said, “I’m Courtney.”
“Eris,” I replied, forming the best smile I could, fully aware of the type of person I was dealing with now. A hug whore.
4
The Dick
Day 5
“Blueberry pancakes?” Eris asked the question, not waiting for my answer in the same bored tone she had every day I’d come into this forsaken diner. Her voice held little to no emotion at all. She didn’t linger at my table as she had the first day. Her eyes didn’t glisten with hope and question my every move. She talked as little as possible and put no effort into being nice to me, which was okay because at some point I returned the favor.
I wouldn’t have returned, but I forgot to leave her a tip on the first day. The second day I left twice as much, trying to make up for it, but her refusal was loud and clear in her mannerisms. I wanted to be rude to her the entire time I was here, but on occasion, I found my curiosity had gotten the better of me, and I’d watch her. I didn’t want to come back into this place. Regardless of my wants, I found myself not only coming back into Dad’s Skillet, but also switching booths to have her as my waitress, which earned several glares from people. I glared back at them, letting them know to mind their own damn business. I didn’t owe them anything.
5
The Dick
Day 7
She didn’t even ask what I wanted. When she saw me walk through the door, she immediately huffed as she went into the kitchen without giving so much as a second glance. Fifteen minutes later, she returned carrying blueberry pancakes and black coffee. She didn’t speak to me at all, and I had been here three hours and drank so much coffee I could have held a pissing contest with a horse.
After the first hour of silence, I took it as a personal challenge to outlast her stubbornness. There was no way she could still be pissed over me stiffing her on a tip, so she must be bipolar or just a hateful person in general. Neither of which I truly believed, but I had left one hundred dollars for her in tips over a course of five days, for fuck’s sake. That should have earned me the right to order my own food at the very least.
6
Eris
I could tell he hated everything about this place, including me. What type of self-righteous asshole got off coming into a diner and being so damn hateful he couldn’t even enjoy Sam’s pancakes, which were the best this side of the Mason-Dixon Line? This asshole. To top it off, he kept leaving twenties as some sort of sick joke after stiffing me on a tip the first day he dined.
I hated him.
The car door creaked as I closed it and walked into the humane society. A chime rang out from above the door as I entered. Tipping my head upward, I looked for a bell, and a tiny white box off to the side of the door’s edge caught my eye.
“I don’t care. Dr. H will kill you if you call him,” Courtney said in a whispered tone, looking into the room behind her. “Just call Dr. Skeen. He’ll happily come to the office, see the patient, order a steroid, and then everything will be hunky-dory,” she said over her shoulder to someone in what I assumed was the kennel area, due to the few cages I saw through the open doorway.
Who said “hunky-dory” anymore? Courtney, that was who. The only things I’d learned in the two times I’d visited here were Courtney was very strange indeed and she probably used made-up words instead of cussing. The first was obvious, but I almost liked her. Almost. There was something about her Southern charm; it reminded me of home, of innocence. It was so rare in today’s age, or at least it was uncommon in my life, I hardly recognized the generosity of a stranger anymore. More often than not, people today never did anything without expecting something in return. This was a vastly different world than the one Mom raised Jaxson and me in. When I was younger, I innocently didn’t consider thirty-one years long enough to make something unrecognizable, but it was. Over time, I grew to learn that even the brightest of days could be strangled to darkness by a couple of dark rain clouds. It only took one drop of sin to spoil anyone’s good virtue.
The second thing I learned by coming here was I never cared to meet this Dr. H. I wasn’t one to quickly pass judgment… Okay, I did, but despite being strange, Courtney seemed nice and was obviously afraid of Dr. H. It would take a certain type of asshole to be rude to her, and even I couldn’t muster the nerve to do that.
“Rough day?” I said as a reply to her unspoken frustration as she blew out an exaggerated puff of air from her lungs.
She rolled her eyes and shrugged her shoulders.
“No one else understands what an emergency is around here,” she said a little too loud, blatantly anticipating whomever she was talking to a minute ago would hear her. From the loud response of crashing doors and clanking metal coming from the back, I think they got her message.
“That doctor sounds like he’s a dick,” I flatly said, scanning the room for The Wiz. I still hated cats, especially ones that peed on me, but after this week, I needed to relax. The perfect way to do that in my mind was petting him, but asking for a barrier to put on my lap first. I planned it out when I decided I was coming here. I was going to ask for one of those puppy-training pads in case The Wizard decided to perform his magic trick again.
Courtney’s big brown eyes widened and her finger quickly found her lips in an attempt to hush me.
“He really isn’t. He’s been through a lot and is an amazing doctor. He saved Veronica here for me.” She rolled away from the desk, revealing a tiny hairless dog with a Mohawk.
“Veronica?” I said, raising my eyebrows at the name choice.
“Wouldn’t Splinter, or I don’t know…Travis Barker be a better name?”
We both laughed at my unintentional dog joke.
“She’s a female,” Courtney said, drawing out each word. “And she’s a princess. Isn’t that right?” She tapped Veronica on the nose, waking her.
Veronica straightened her front legs and then her back, and then her tongue rolled as she yawned. She hopped down from Courtney’s lap, walking around the desk to me, her pink nails tapping against the linoleum floor’s surface.
“Hi, V Barker,” I said to her, lightly tapping her Mohawk, not sure if I should pet her or rub lotion on her skin. “I can’t call you Veronica. I’m sorry,” I apologized to her, knowing she didn’t care at all what name I called her by as long as it was in a sweet tone.
“I don’t know about you, Courtney, but out of all the princesses I’ve seen on cartoons, V here is the first to hav
e a Mohawk.”
She laughed. “I know, but that’s Dr. H. I let him name her since he saved her life. He has a great sense of humor, if he lets you see that side of him, that is. Like you, most people,” she waved her hand in the air, standing up from her seat, “think he’s a dick,” she whispered the last word, shocking me that she actually cussed. “He isn’t. They just don’t know him. I look for him to come back full-time at some point once he heals.”
I bit my lip and nodded my head, not sure what I could add to the conversation. Although, I did want to ask what healing he needed, but didn’t feel like it was really my place.
“So, where’s The Wiz today?”
She quickly shook her head and pointed over her shoulder to the back. I had forgotten she brought him up to meet me, without anyone’s permission I was assuming.
Again, I nodded my head and then asked Courtney if I could take V for a walk, scooping her tiny hairless body into my arms.
“Of course! I’ll go get her leash,” she bubbled, running into the back and returning with a bright pink leash decorated with a string of rhinestones dangling off one of her French-tipped nails. Seeing her collar paired with Courtney’s nails didn’t shock me at all. They seemed to be a perfect fit for one another. Still, a few giggles escaped my lips as I took the leash and hooked it to her collar, leading her outside. Perhaps a walk could do us both some good.
7
The Dick
Day 14
“Dick,” she muttered under her breath and then sucked on her top lip as she shook her head. Her movements were sharp and full of annoyance when she set a steamy mug of coffee in front of me. My nose smelled the familiar stench of creamer before I peered down and saw that my usual inviting black coffee was a hideous light tan shade. I would almost bet it held more cream than coffee. I’d been in here every day for two weeks, so she knew I took my coffee black. This unquestionably was sabotage on her part and I despised cream, which was the reason I got this shit for a drink, I was certain.
To spite her, I painted a hateful smile onto my face each time she came to my table and drank the nasty shit anyway. I couldn’t stand the taste of creamer in coffee, but I wasn’t going to give her the smallest inkling of that. It’d give her too much satisfaction.
About halfway through the cup, I’d had enough, and to be quite frank, couldn’t drink one more drop of it. I decided to be honest with her. Not sure if I truly wanted to clean the slate between us or was using it as an excuse to keep the mug away from my face.
“You know, I actually hate blueberries,” I said, being as polite as possible when she once again brought my order without actually taking it. “And, I don’t take cream in my coffee, which I’m sure you’re well aware of. You’re a smart girl, Eris.” Using the silverware rolled in a napkin, I pushed the mug to the end of the table so I didn’t have to smell it anymore.
“You know what?” She paused and sat down across from me. “I don’t,” her full lips spat out while she dragged the plate in front of her with two of her fingers.
She reached across the table slowly, her skin brushing mine as she pulled the silverware rolled in a napkin out of my clasped hand, my fingers dully tapping the table’s surface one at a time. I let her have the silverware. I was too speechless and shocked to do otherwise. She actually planned to eat the food she brought to me. The food she hadn’t even given me a chance to agree or to deny—she was just taking it. I still doubted she’d really go through with it, until she confirmed my suspicions by slowly wrapping her fingers around the mug, her eyes never leaving mine for more than a second as she pulled the cup into her hand.
She cut apart the stack of pancakes, brought a decent sized bite to her lips, and I watched her hesitate as I cocked my head to the side. I wasn’t sure what my next move should be here. Generally, I was just a dick to everyone, so my actions weren’t something I questioned often. Most people called me something under their breath and left me alone. Not her. When I gave her hell, she came back at me with fury.
She politely set the fork onto the plate and her hand shot for the syrup. I quickly snaked my hand around hers and shook my head. There wasn’t any way in hell she was winning this without a fight. As soon as my fingers found hers, my lips twitched with anger and excitement, the second being one I didn’t anticipate. I dared her to move with my eyes and clamped my lips together to keep from laughing at her growing frustration as she leaned her body over the table and tightened her grip.
Until meeting her, I didn’t know it was possible to hate someone in the same second of needing to be near them. She made my emotions swirl like a whirlwind, and I never knew from one second to the next which would win.
A gasp left her mouth after I shook my head, and a laugh left mine. A small smile found hers.
She knew I wasn’t budging. Neither of us was.
8
The Dick
Day 14
Our feud had ended. We laughed together, and her free hand slowly climbed up my hand and settled on my forearm. Her forwardness was something that took me by surprise. I doubted it’d go much further than a touch in the middle of this diner, but I’d take it over her normal hateful manner.
9
The Dick
Day 14
I was wrong. In fact, I couldn’t have been any further from the truth. She distracted me with her seductive touch, and I never intended for it to go any further in that direction. Her laughter quickly vanished, and she gritted her teeth. She pinched the shit out of my arm until I released the syrup. A slight growl ripped through my lips. I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing it actually hurt, but it did. I might have glanced down to make sure she didn’t break the skin and noticed she hadn’t.
10
Eris
I ate all of his pancakes, pinched him, and he still paid for them. I almost felt bad for behaving like a teenager. Almost.
I hoped his arm didn’t bruise, only because I didn’t want to see it as a reminder of being an asshole, of course. Not that he didn’t deserve it. He did. I knew he was getting ready to give some type of speech when he called me a “smart girl”. I didn’t feel like listening to one, so I took his food…silverware…and coffee. He didn’t want them anyway.
“Girl, you really ate that poor man’s food, didn’t you?” Sam said, loading dirty dishes into the rack as he shook his head in disbelief, and a small laugh left his otherwise composed body. He wasn’t asking; he knew very well I had. Before sliding the plate into the washer, he laughed again and then pulled the silver lever down to start the cycle. Steam and hot water shot out from around the sides as the washer went to work.
“I did. But, Sam, he’s a dick,” I added, breaking the lettuce apart and starting to cut cucumbers, needing something to keep my hands busy. Talking out loud about what happened made me question my actions.
“Might be, but you spend a good deal of your time treating him the same, Sug.” He wiped his hands on his apron. “One might question why you are putting so much effort into someone you think is a dick.”
I opened my mouth to argue with him, but he was right and I knew it, so I didn’t argue.
“The truth’s the truth,” he sang and swayed his hips as he held his broad hands out for me.
“Just because it’s the truth doesn’t mean I like it,” I whispered and danced to the song he hummed. All the frustration I felt today melted as I closed my eyelids and laid my head on Sam’s shoulder.
“I know, Sug. I know.”
Sam always knew when I was approaching my breaking point, sometimes even before I did. He usually danced with me, or at the very least gave me a hug and sang or hummed. He had a beautiful voice. Pursuing music to make a living instead of owning a diner could have come easily to him, and it almost did. In fact, he told me sometime ago music had been the one thing that brought Lorene to him. He was touring the U.S. singing the blues, and she was at one of his shows. When I asked him what happened, he simply said, “Love won. It pulle
d me from the road and brought us to Blackwell.”
I was glad it did.
Warming up the plate of leftovers of today’s gumbo, I couldn’t stop my curiosity from wandering to him when I pulled a fork out of the drawer and held onto it with my lips. My first instinct was to be annoyed, but no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t keep from smiling. Thinking of his frustration as he swatted the fork of pancakes away from my mouth made me giggle. Even if I was pissed off at the time, after Sam pointed out I was being as much of a dick as the man who’d become the bane of my existence was, my feelings of hate seemed to diminish…some.
I still hated him.
He was still an awful person.
I just didn’t hate him as much.
For three peaceful days he hadn’t returned to the diner. It was a good thing I didn’t miss people. It was an even better thing I didn’t miss him.
Perhaps reality finally smacked him in the face and he finally figured out he shouldn’t keep being a dick to people, leaving him no choice but to move on with his life. It was a good thing, too. Playing his games were getting exhausting.
Curling up on the couch with my bowl of food, I flipped on the TV and turned the volume down, after taking a few bites, not interested in what was on the screen. The only reason I turned it on was for background noise. Getting lost in my thoughts, the events of the day replayed in my head, reminding me of the energy and time I’d wasted on him alone. I blew out an exasperated breath and picked my phone up to check Mom’s messages.
Chaos (Blackwell Bayou Series Book 1) Page 3
