Petting Them: An Anthology of Claw-ver Tails

by Tate James

  Together, Jay and I opened up the Jeep, rolling back the fabric top and tucked it towards the rear of the vehicle. Preston met us at the car and opened the side door just as I moved to climb in. I stared down at the hand he held out, offering to help me inside with suspicion before I took it. Ignoring his burning blue gaze, I crawled into one of the back seats, leaving the passenger side door ajar, while Jay cranked the car. I paused, looking around as he upped the staticky radio, trying to find a good station, only to stop on the Golden Oldies. Preston turned around and jogged back to the clinic.

  "Where's Wren?" I asked, following his movements with my eyes—remembering how I had always done the same when we had been friends in college. How he would run on the school’s workout track while I used the exercise machines. How his stomach would tighten when he laughed or pulled off his shirt. I shook my head, chasing away the vague memories that started to resurface.

  "He's working today—got a group of tourists out on a safari," Jay answered.

  The passenger door jostled as Preston climbed in with a large bag in tow. He tossed it on the floorboards by his feet before settling in.

  I sighed but didn't say anything as he buckled up and faced forward. Jay acted as if the tension between us wasn't palpable and, instead, cranked the oldies station higher, singing along to every lyric. I giggled when he tried to hit a particularly high note, and his baritone voice cracked under the strain. The Jeep bumped and jarred as we slid out onto a dirt road, and roared forward.

  Trying to ignore the extra man in the front seat, I set about taking pictures of everything that captured my attention. A distant copse of trees with a half-dozen giraffes gathered nearby became the center of my focus as I zoomed in with my camera. Noticing my fascination, Jay was kind enough to slow down and keep the rocking to a minimum until I had taken a dozen or so pictures. I shot him a grateful smile and reached up to hold onto the roll cage with one hand while I clutched my camera in my lap with the other as he pressed down on the gas once more.

  The land was beautiful, the sun hot as it beat down on us. Everything in sight felt so new, unique. It was nothing like I was used to. Even the heat was different. Heat in Florida was swampy, humid. The heat here was dry. So dry that my sweat practically matted against my skin as soon as it popped up.

  “How can people live here year round?” I wondered aloud.

  Preston turned around in his seat as the Jeep bumped and jostled over the uneven terrain. “The human body is amazing,” he replied to my rhetorical question. “It can acclimate to nearly any climate in the world when given enough time.”

  A part of me wanted to disagree if for nothing more than just to disagree with him, but I knew he was right. Otherwise, how else could we explain people living in deserts and on icy terrain? I turned my gaze back to our surroundings. South Africa might not have been my original goal, but it was a start to the world I craved to explore.

  6

  With my chest pressed to the rough ground, my legs crossed at the ankles and raised in the air, I pointed my camera and pressed the button, capturing a series of images containing Preston and Jay as they attended to a small meerkat. There was no breeze—hell, there was no shade either—and my whole body was sore and sunburned, but I hadn’t felt this accomplished in months. Chasing around corrupt government officials and public figures to see who was sleeping with who. Which man was cheating on his wife with the secretary? Who was taking bribes? That was anything but fulfilling.

  I swiped my hair out of my face and adjusted my camera angle, capturing another picture, this time a close up of Preston’s gentle hands on the animal as he injected it with a round of antibiotics. He had explained earlier that many of these meerkats had recently visited him when a few of the locals had brought them in. They had then been brought back to be released back into the wild.

  When Jay stood up, followed soon after by Preston, I took that as my cue that we were leaving. I got to my feet, brushing off dry dirt and dust. The meerkat took off once more, running to meet his little family waiting nearby as we made our way back to the Jeep. I turned and took another few shots, just in case. And, also, because I couldn’t help myself.

  I lowered my camera, smiling down at the screen and turned back to the Jeep to find Preston there, waiting with the passenger side door open. There was a familiar, gentle smile playing at the corners of his lips as he watched me, and it made me pause. Tipping my head down, I slid past him and crawled into the back of the Jeep. A flutter of intimate butterflies swarmed in my tummy. I pressed a balled-up fist against my abdomen as Jay climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine.

  “Get enough pictures?” he called back over the roar of the wind as we took off down the non-road that was really more of an uneven dirt line.

  I nodded, tucking my camera down next to my legs. I turned my gaze to the side, watching the passing scenery as we moved. Every once in a while, my eyes flicked to the rearview mirror—as though they couldn’t help themselves—and I caught Preston watching me. Sensing his interest did nothing but make me question why I decided to stay.

  I can’t let myself get distracted, I reminded myself. I can’t let myself get hurt again. Certainly not by him.

  Jay pulled up to the clinic and I crawled out of the Jeep via the window, holding my camera close so that it didn’t bang around. Once I was out, I lifted the strap attached and slung it back over my neck and volunteered to stay behind and put the top up. Both Jay and Preston gave me skeptical looks but agreed none-the-less. They disappeared into the clinic, thankfully leaving me to my own devices. I took my time putting up the top, pulling it up and over the frame, tucking it in and zipping the correct parts. I used the small task to go through my own thoughts as they whirled in my mind, fluttering against the walls of my skull.

  Why would fate bring me here? I wondered. Why would it lead me back to Preston McConnell? What is the meaning of it all? This can’t just be a coincidence, can it? Is the universe trying to tell me something?

  I was so absorbed with my thoughts and questions that I didn’t even notice when I had finished strapping the Jeep’s top down. I stood against the vehicle, staring off into the South African sunset—a haze of colors on the horizon. I jumped when an engine roared into the lot. Startled, I turned as Wren pulled up and got out of his own vehicle, wiping his brow. Dark eyes spanned down as he looked me over.

  “What are you doing out here?” he asked.

  “Oh, um, just putting up the top.” I gestured to the Jeep, but Wren’s gaze never strayed.

  “So, you’re staying?” he asked, moving closer.

  Swallowing around a dry throat, I nodded. “I am.”

  His head bobbed and a tense, electric silence stretched between us. It seemed neither of us wanted to move, nor did we have anything to say. But something lingered in the air, something that skittered along my spine, and shocked sparks of flames into my veins.

  “So, I guess I’ll—” I started just as he spoke.

  “Listen, Jen, I—”

  We both stopped. Then a ruffle of laughter escaped us. His eyes danced with mirth as the edges of his lips tipped upward.

  “You go ahead,” I said.

  He scuffed the toe of his shoe on the ground and once again, he was brought closer to me. So close, in fact, that I could smell the day’s sweat on him. It was a masculine, spicy scent.

  When was the last time I had sex? I wondered. I hadn’t exactly been abstinent since losing my virginity to Preston, but I hadn’t grown any romantic attachments either. Awkward and regretful one night stands aside, though, I didn’t think Wren was like that.

  “I wanted to know if you’d go out with me some time,” he said.

  I blinked, wondering if I'd heard him correctly. “Um…” Probably not the most eloquent response—in fact, I was pretty sure ‘um’ wasn’t even a damn word, so not even close to an eloquent response. “I—uh—me?” Yep. I was the epitome of eloquent responses. Just put it on my freaking busine
ss card.

  Wren’s eyes watched me, a seriousness in his gaze. “Yeah,” he said, “you.”

  “Okay…” I stared back at him. “Why?”

  Wren rubbed the back of his neck. “If you don’t want to—”

  “No!” I put my hands out as if I could physically stop his words. Though that wasn’t possible, he stopped talking none-the-less and looked at me, waiting patiently. “I m-mean I just...um—” I bit my lip and looked away. “I meant why? Why me?” Why now? Is what I really wanted to ask.

  Wren shrugged. “You want me to list the ways that I find you attractive?”

  “You find me attractive?” Was that me talking? Why did I sound like a fucking idiot?

  I shook my head and stood straighter, but that only pushed my front out and his eyes flashed down once before he met my gaze again.

  He smiled, a small, barely discernible blush rising to his cheeks. “Yeah, I do. So, what do you say? You and me? Date?”

  “Wow,” I said. “You don’t mess around.”

  His smile widened. “So, what do you say?” he asked, the lightness of his voice making me crave normalcy, pushing me to say yes.

  My eyes drifted to the building that Preston and Jay had entered not fifteen minutes before as I bit my lip and contemplated his offer. Did I really want to go down this road?

  Wren waited for my response. He didn’t try to push or pull me in any direction. He just waited. I appreciated that, and it made my decision an easy one.

  "Yeah," I finally said. Why not? What could the harm be? It's not like I was worried about anyone finding out or worried that it'd go wrong. Wren was a good, decent guy. He made me laugh. The tight muscles under his shirt—the soft outline of his abdomen—didn’t hurt. I couldn’t say why I might have hesitated. It certainly couldn't be over Preston. It wasn’t like I was still waiting and pining for him. No way. Fuck that guy. "Yeah," I repeated, letting my mind-ramblings trail off. "I'd like that a lot."

  "Great," he said, beaming. God, he looked so handsome like that. “How about tomorrow night?” he asks.

  “T-tomorrow?” I repeated with a stutter. “Uh, sure, yeah.” I looked away, my own cheeks flushing. “Tomorrow works. I can do tomorrow.”

  That smile didn’t leave his face. If anything, it got bigger. “I’ll see you then,” he said with a nod.

  “Yup. See you.” With a wave, I turned and walked over to the door leading to the house I was staying in. I fumbled with my keys, unlocking it, and casting a half smile over my shoulder as he headed to the clinic—looking for the other guys, I assumed. I managed to get the door unlocked and quickly rushed inside, slamming it behind me as my cheeks heated with what I was sure was a red-hot blush. A date. With Wren. One of Preston’s best friends.

  I shook my head, sliding off my camera, and clutching it in my fist. It didn’t matter if they were friends or not. I wasn’t there to ruin their friendship or anything. Wren had asked me out, not the other way around. I wasn’t starting anything. Accepting his offer for a good time couldn’t lead to anything too terrible. I mean, what was the worst that could happen?

  I sighed and pushed away from the door. Dried sweat stuck to my skin, and I huffed out a breath as I kicked off my shoes, and face planted into my small bed with my camera thudding onto the mattress at my side, my fingers still curling around its edges.

  Excitement curved down my spine and I bit my lip to try and tame the wild smile on my lips, but it was no use.

  7

  My finger pressed down against the button of my camera and small clicks ensued—a series of shots of Preston as he examined his patient captured in the moment—the hidden files saving automatically into the mechanical departments of my camera. Golden eyes watched me from several yards away, curious and analyzing. It was beautiful. So stunning that my breath caught as I stood up. I dusted off the dirt on the front of my light-gray t-shirt, but it was useless. The dust had caked onto the fabric, wet with my own sweat.

  When Preston had informed me that I'd be spending the day with him as he came out to the wildlife reserves, I had balked. I had almost told him no, especially when I couldn't find Wren or Jay. Even though Wren had promised that he or Jay would go with us if I was forced to follow him, I didn't want to be a nuisance. So, I had bitten my tongue, agreed, and gotten into the all-terrain-vehicle with him. We hadn't spoken a word since. Not while he was examining the lion and not while I was taking pictures.

  The silence, at first, had been deafening. The tension and awkwardness was obvious. And, yet, as time moved forward, and the sun rose higher in the sky, I let it go and focused on my work. I snapped picture after picture. I was almost irritated to admit that all of the best pictures I took had been of Preston and the animal.

  I took slow, careful steps over to where he was so as to not startle the great animal. The lion raised its head, turning it as those eyes watched me, observing me with animalistic intelligence. I approached on quiet feet with every movement planned. It watched me all the while with an almost a bored expression.

  Preston lifted one of its front paws and settled it onto his lap as he pressed his fingers down on what looked to be scars marring the animal's beautiful flesh. As I came to stand right next to them, I eased onto the ground. Crossing my legs, I readied my camera for a close-up profile, but my mind kept wandering to the lion's scars.

  “Don’t you usually sedate him?” I asked.

  Preston nodded. “I’m supposed to. Any other vet would.” He moved his fingers lightly over the lion’s fur and scars. I waited for what felt like an eternity.

  Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. “But not you?” I pressed.

  “Not really. I gave him a mild sedative, but it probably won’t knock him completely out at his weight. He’s a big guy.”

  “Why don’t you? Isn’t it dangerous?” I eyed the lion, feeling nervous adrenaline pump through my veins. I couldn’t help but admit the animal’s beauty, but I knew as well as anyone that beauty could be dangerous too. I eyed Preston. Animals weren’t the only dangerous creatures. In fact, I would argue that humans were the most dangerous.

  “This big guy and I have an understanding,” Preston said with a smile, reaching up and rubbing his hand down the lion’s neck. The lion yawned, its big mouth stretching out and the sharp teeth inside drew my attention. “He knows I’m just trying to help. He trusts me as I trust him.”

  I returned my gaze to Preston. “Trust?”

  He paused and without looking at me, he sighed. “I’ve learned a lot in the last few years, Jen. I’ve learned that I need to trust more.”

  I froze, feeling like he was talking about the night we had together. Expecting a follow-up apology and not wanting to hear it, I sputtered and changed the subject.

  "What did that?" I asked, pointing to the lion’s paw.

  I lowered my camera to my lap and watched for a few brief moments as Preston tested the skin of the scars where no hair grew. He didn’t say anything for a moment. It looked like something had attempted to bite off the lion's paw. The markings were spread out around the leg, each a raised, pale line separated by an inch or so. I stared at those markings with a sour taste in my mouth.

  "A trap," Preston answered without looking up.

  "A trap?" I repeated, surprised.

  He nodded, continuing his examination. "Poachers aren't uncommon in this area," he said. "There are animal hunting expeditions—lots of tourism in hunting animals here. I'm not for it, but its common. It's not so bad when the animals are overpopulated and can disrupt the natural order." He paused to look up and caught my gaze. "But lions are off limits."

  "Was it intentional?" I couldn't help but ask.

  "It was," he said, a dark anger filtering into his voice that sent a shiver down my spine. “Poachers don’t care about animal life.” As he said the words, my eyes trailed to the lion.

  "So, why don’t you keep him somewhere safe?" I asked.

  Preston looked up at me then, his stern gaze capturing
my attention. "He was here first," he said. "Locking him up—even in the name of safety—isn't fair." Preston returned his gaze to the lion, stroking the creature's mane. "He doesn't deserve to have his freedom taken away. No one should be hunting him in the first place."

  I couldn't say that I disagreed. And I knew it, even as I said it, that locking up the animal was too cruel. But what else could Preston do to ensure that no one else would try to kill him, just to get his head or bones or fur? How could anyone kill something so beautiful?

  "What's his name?" I found myself asking.

  Preston looked up at me before glancing back at the animal half-curled in his lap—what parts of himself he could fit into Preston's lap anyway. A small smile graced Preston's lips, and he reached up, tucking his hand under the animal's chin and giving him a good long scratch.

  "Before I tell you," Preston said as the lion grumbled and readjusted himself when Preston stopped scratching him, "just know, I'm not the one that named him."

  I looked at him, wondering what he could mean by that.

  "His name is Leo," Preston said.

  My mouth dropped open. "No," I gasped, choking back laughter.

  Preston nodded his head solemnly. "Well, it was actually Leeu—it's Afrikkans for Lion—but I just call him Leo."

  I snorted. "That's so bad."

  He nodded. "I told you, I didn't name him."

  "Then who did?" I backed up and got to my feet as Preston patted Leo's paw and removed it from his lap.

  As Preston climbed to his feet as well, he dusted off his hands and reached down for his medical satchel. "The kid that found him," he answered.

  "Who found him?" I asked as we headed towards the car. A bead of sweat slicked down the side of my face. I wanted to reach up and wipe it away, but at the same time, I knew another would just take its place anyway. Still, as we reached the car and I popped open the passenger side door, I couldn't help myself. I reached up and wiped the trail of crusted over, dried sweat from my cheek. And as Preston started the car—as I predicted—another slid down my jawline.