My Name Is Not Alexa Pearce

by Kerri McLoone

  “Tyler, you need to back off. I said I’m not interested. At all.” I can feel Milo pressing harder into my leg, just waiting for me to give him the green light to attack.

  Tyler doesn’t move back but does put both of his arms on the chest-high open door of the dryer I’m using. He leans in slightly.

  I smile at him and say, “Milo, set.”

  I take a step back allowing Milo to position himself directly in front of me, teeth bared, growling loudly. I am not afraid of Tyler, I know that I could defend myself against him, but I have bigger things to worry about right now than this asshole.

  Tyler looks down at Milo and then back up at me. I can see he’s weighing his options, but it’s not fast enough for me.

  Bye-bye, Tyler, I think as I say, “Milo....”

  Milo barks once and picks up a paw, ready to launch. Tyler throws his hands up from the dryer door. “Okay, okay. I get it.” He takes a few steps backward. “I’ll see you later, honey.”

  “No, Tyler. You won’t.”

  My face hardens as I say it. He sneers at me as he leaves the laundromat.

  “That guy is such a piece of shit.” I jump hearing Cali’s voice, I was so focused on making sure Tyler left I didn’t even realize she was behind me.

  I look down at Milo and see he’s still in a state of alert ready to pounce on anything. “I know,” I say to Cali before I add, “Good boy Milo, it’s okay now.” He looks back at me but doesn’t fully relax. “It’s okay, pup. Really.”

  Milo comes over and circles Cali and myself, his ears are still up and his tail stiff. He sniffs us both, then presses his head in between my knees. I scratch both of his ears and tell him that everything’s okay, until his tail starts to wag.

  “I’ve never seen him like that. Milo must really not like that guy,” Cali says stepping over to pet Milo too.

  “The feeling is mutual,” I say. I load the rest of my clothes into the dryer and start it. Milo sits down in front of the machine, content to watch the clothes inside spin.

  “Can I ask you a question, Lex?”

  “Of course.”

  “What does that command you gave him mean?” Cali looks nervous as she asks it.

  I told Cali last night that I trust her, so I don’t hesitate to tell her what “set” means. “Set is the command I give if I feel threatened or uncertain and want Milo on alert. There is a second command, seek, that tells him to go. If he feels the threat too, he attacks, if not he circles the person twice and returns to me.”

  “And he can tell the difference, whether to attack or not?” Cali asks.

  “Yeah,” I say simply.

  I don’t add the part about Milo having some magical help in telling the difference. I have a feeling Cali will find that out soon enough.

  Cali looks down at Milo, then squats to be face to face with him. She reaches out with both hands to give his ears a deep scratch. He licks her face just before she says, “Very good boy, Milo.”

  ● 24 ●

  The past few hours of my Saturday afternoon, following my laundromat run-in with Tyler, were spent at Waterfront Park. Cali and I stopped back at the apartment to drop off our clothes before going to the park. After I put my notebook away in the drawer of my nightstand, I grabbed Milo’s favorite tennis ball — the one with a squeaker in it — his collapsable travel bowl and a couple of water bottles. Cali got an old blanket from her closet for us to sit on.

  Matt had called me at close to two in the afternoon, I was still at the laundromat waiting on the end of a dryer cycle when I answered. He asked what I was up to and I told him what I had planned after my laundry was done. When he asked if it would be okay if he joined me at the park, I had to bite my tongue before the, “Oh, hell yeah!” that zipped through my brain flew out of my mouth.

  When Matt got to the park just after three, Cali was laying on the blanket reading a book, and I was throwing the ball for Milo. Matt came right up to me and kissed me hello, I responded without a second thought. I sighed happily when our lips parted. Matt held me for an extra beat until Milo bumped my leg, impatient at my not throwing his ball again right away.

  The next time Milo trotted back to where I was, he dropped the ball at Matt’s feet. Every time my dog does something that displays his trust for Cali, or for Mickey, or for Matt, it reaffirms to me that I’m surrounded by good people. That I can trust these people too.

  We stayed at the park for only a couple of hours. It’s still early April, and the weather in the Pacific Northwest hasn’t fully lost its winter chill, plus dusk arrives early. I invited Matt over for dinner and told Cali to tell Mickey to come when she was done at work too.

  So now I’m standing next to the stove in my apartment cutting up some chicken breasts for a stir fry. Matt is next to me slicing carrots, broccoli, and red pepper; Cali is on the couch flipping through channels on the TV and snuggling with Milo.

  I turn when I hear Milo’s tags jingle as he hops off of the couch and goes to the door, tail wagging. A few seconds later I hear the deadbolt slide then see Mickey walk in. She’s wearing capri length leggings and a baggy, scoop neck t-shirt with her gym bag and purse slung over one shoulder.

  “Hey baby,” Cali gets up and greets Mickey at the door. She takes the bags from her girlfriend and asks, “How was work?”

  “Long,” Mickey answers. “My computer froze right after I finished the payroll. I didn’t know if I should restart it or if that would cancel the payroll, then if I did the payroll again would it go through twice.”

  She sighs as she grabs a glass of water from the pitcher in the refrigerator. Mickey leans against it as she continues, “So I spent over an hour on the phone, most of it on hold, with the payroll software people to see if it went through. Jack had to run my 1:30 and my 2:30 classes.”

  Cali comes over and cuddles up under Mickey’s arm. “So I restart the computer while I’ve got the person on the phone with me, and of course the payroll goes through a second time. So they’re like ‘oh, no problem, we can cancel it for you.... but there’s a fee’.”

  “Of course there is,” Matt says.

  “Right?” Mickey says exasperatedly. “By the time that was finished, I was so mentally exhausted that I was glad I only had two one-on-one sessions on my calendar, instead of group classes.”

  “So who’s closing up the studio tonight?” I ask putting the raw chicken into a pan on the stove.

  “Melanie.”

  From her spot under Mickey’s arm, I see Cali make a face at the name. When Mickey and Cali first got together, Melanie was a relatively new hire at the studio. She pursued Mickey hard, but it was clear to everyone around them — including Melanie — that once Cali and Mickey went on their first date, they were it for each other. Melanie backed off after that and has a steady girlfriend of her own now.

  Cali holds a bit of a grudge over Melanie, saying that she still flirts with Mickey constantly. But I’ve met her a handful of times and Melanie just has a very outgoing personality that can be mistaken as flirty.

  Mickey sees Cali’s reaction to hearing the name. I can tell she understands Cali’s feelings and instead of downplaying them, she squeezes Cali tighter and gives her a sweet kiss. She says something into Cali’s ear that I don’t quite catch, but based on the warm smile that fills Cali’s face, I don’t have to.

  I take the chicken off the stove and scoop it onto a plate, leaving the hot oil in the pan. I throw diced garlic and onion in and sauté it a bit. Matt is right next to me ready to toss in the vegetables on my cue.

  “I’m going to go take a quick shower, wash today off of me,” Mickey says. “Thank you for cooking dinner, Lex. Cali and I will do the dishes later.”

  “We will?” Cali asks.

  Mickey bends over to kiss Cali, who has sat back down on the couch, and says, “Yes, we will.”

  I tell Matt to add the veggies and grab the last few things I need; minced ginger and hoisin sauce from the fridge, and water chestnuts and microwave ri
ce from the pantry cabinet. I put the chestnuts and ginger in the pan and then put the chicken back in. I drizzle everything with the hoisin sauce, stirring it together while it finishes cooking.

  When Mickey returns to the living room with a towel around her head wearing big baggy sweatpants and a tank top, I put the rice in the microwave. She sits down on the couch next to Cali, who immediately wraps her arms around the woman. Milo jumps on the sofa and nestles down on the other side of Mickey.

  “Good boy, Milo,” Matt says quietly reaching into the cabinet to get four plates. He turns to me smiling and says, “I love that dog. It’s like he knows Mickey had a rough day and needs some extra TLC.”

  “He’s definitely a good boy,” I say smiling.

  The microwave beeps and I take out the rice, fluff it with a fork and put it in a bowl. I take out a new serving spoon from a drawer and pour the contents of the pan on the stove onto an oversized plate. Matt takes the dishes he took down before, some forks, and the rice and brings them over to the coffee table. I bring over the stir fry as Cali and Mickey pass out the plates.

  “Milo, down,” I say as I sit cross-legged on the floor. My pup comes over to me and lays down with his head in my lap. “Good boy, Milo,” I tell him, scratching his ears.

  Matt sits down on the floor next to me and starts dishing out the food. He hands me the first plate which I give to Cali, and the second I pass to Mickey. Cali gets up quickly to get napkins, glasses and the water pitcher from the fridge.

  I look at the people around me, see them eating and joking with each other, and I feel warm contentment fill me. I glance down at Milo who is completely relaxed next to me and can’t help but finally feel like just a regular, run-of-the-mill twenty-three-year-old.

  For the first time in the past five years, I feel completely happy and my worries are quieted.

  For now.

  ● 25 ●

  I’m already awake Sunday morning when my alarm goes off, the anticipation for the day is almost overwhelming. I’ve really never been a morning person, like ever, but between how great the past forty-eight hours have been — I’ve kissed Matt four times now, but who’s counting? — and the possibility of getting my hands on The Book and seeing if it is what I’ve been looking for, I spring out of bed fully awake and ready to go. In fact, it’s me who wakes up Milo today instead of the other way around.

  We’re out the door on our walk by 7:06 A.M., earlier than we’ve been all week. It’s another gorgeous spring morning and the sun is shining. Milo and I take the long way to Roast, and since I’m in such a good mood, I get him a pup cup along with my hot chocolate and bagel.

  Walking back to my apartment, I’m in a state of serenity. It’s early so our street is awash in typical morning scenes; some people are jogging, some are getting in their cars (maybe they got stuck with a Sunday shift too), and others are just sitting on their stoops enjoying the brisk start of the day.

  Milo and I are half a block from my door when a stiff breeze gusts by us. I pull my rust colored jacket a little tighter around me to ward off the chill. A stray leaf blows by catching my canine companion’s attention. He goes to follow it and being in such a good mood this morning with time to spare, I follow it too. It blows down our sidewalk, zigzagging in front of Milo. The leaf brings us right to the entrance to our building. Milo wants to go after it more, but I direct him into the lobby.

  I take off Milo’s leash at the base of the stairs and ask, “Want to race, pup?” His tail starts wagging so hard that his butt is shaking too. “Alright,” I say. “First one to the door wins. But no cheating this time, got it?”

  Milo spins a circle once to acknowledge the rules.

  “Ready—” I put his leash in my coat pocket and Milo drops his chest to the floor, tail raised high.

  “Set—” I put one foot on the bottom step, Milo’s tail starts up again. I cheat and run up a couple of stairs before I say, “Go!”

  Milo barks at me once, as if to voice his outrage that I jumped the gun when I just told him no cheating. He lets me know what he thinks of that by flying past me on the first landing and reaching our door before I’m even a quarter way up the second flight.

  Shit, I’ve gotten my endurance up but I still need to work on my speed. I make a mental note to ask Mickey about what I can do to build speed.

  “Damn, Milo. You smoked me.” I hold up my hand for a high five and Milo jumps up to smack my palm with his paw.

  I check the time on my phone as we enter the apartment, 7:38. Plenty of time for a nice, hot shower after I eat my breakfast. I give Milo fresh water and a scoop of food, then sit down on the couch and open a solitaire app on my phone. I start a new hand and take a few bites of my bagel.

  Milo comes around the side of the couch after finishing his own breakfast, jumps up on the couch next to me and puts his head on my thigh.

  “You’re kind of stinky,” I say to him. “I think today might be a bath day, dog.” Milo whines and looks up at me with sad puppy eyes. For a dog that could just as easily snuggle with someone or rip their throat out, the bathtub has always been his kryptonite.

  I shake my head at him and say, “Sorry, Milo. It is what it is, pup.”

  I take a few more bites of my bagel and give the last of it to Milo as a peace offering. I give him a few big smooches on his head before I get up to take a shower.

  I’m cognizant of the fact that Mickey and Cali are still asleep, so I refrain from singing my go-to song, (You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman written by Carole King for the queen of soul, Aretha Franklin. I hum it as I go through my routine; shampoo, conditioner, body wash, towel dry, tweeze, mascara. I wrap my towel around my chest and go into my bedroom to get dressed.

  I walk back into the living room at 8:23 to see Milo sprawled out on the couch, laying on his back and snoring. My fearsome protector, ladies and gentlemen.

  My mind is buzzing with all the possibilities today could hold as I quietly gather my bag, keys, and phone from the counter in the kitchen. I open the fridge and take out the container of left-overs from last night to bring for lunch. Before I leave the apartment, I grab my bike helmet off its hook by the front door thinking, This could be the day that makes the past eighteen-hundred-plus days worth it.

  **********

  Jeff was waiting for me outside the library when I got here this morning. He came over to me as I was locking up my bike surprising me with pleasantries which aren’t often Jeff’s style. He walked in with me, saying he wanted to make sure my new ID worked properly and to make sure I got all settled in downstairs.

  Jeff and I make our way through each locked door without issue. We go down two long flights of stairs and when I open the last door, I’m in awe of what I see.

  The climate-controlled storage of the library is housed in a well-lit sub-basement the size of an American football field. The room is cavernous, the walls made of concrete cinderblock, the ceiling must be thirty to thirty-five feet high. Multiple thick metal beams span its width. It’s broken into six separate, glass-walled cubes with metal framework laid out straight down the room in a single row. One side of each cube is up against the wall to my left creating a walkway down the right side of the room where the door to each cube is.

  The cubes are quite large. I’d guess they measure twenty feet tall by thirty feet wide, and there is at least ten to fifteen feet in between each one. The center of each cube’s glass ceiling is attached to an HVAC duct that extends upward to the high ceiling of the sub-basement.

  They each have their own temperature and humidity control with a digital display next to an electric lock that is only accessible with a keycard. The floor inside the cube is hardwood, but the floor of the makeshift hallway and walkway between each cube is covered in thick carpet. Each room is equipped with a small, chest-high table to use when examining the books.

  Jeff showed me the first room, CCR1, closest to the basement entrance. It has a digital camera attached to the laptop that I’ll be using, and
Jeff demoed for me how to create a new entry in the database software. He pointed out a notepad that Samantha had left behind, on it her own handwritten notes on the instructions. He said that unless I had any questions he would leave me to it. I didn’t, so he promptly left me to my project.

  As soon as Jeff left, I scanned every book in the room. CCR1 has eight, back to back bookcases made of sturdy oak shelves that are fifteen feet tall. The books are spaced out so the covers are not touching one another. There is a ladder on wheels that can be moved from one bookcase to the next attached to a track installed at the top of each shelf. Not one of them was titled The Book, nor did I have any kind of physical response like when I saw the computer listing. The closest I’ve come to the tome I’m seeking is still the crumpled print out tucked away in my pocket.