by Theresa Weir
You don’t listen very well, do you?
“I would if there was anyone to listen to,” she muttered. No one was speaking to her, at least no one within ten feet. That meant only one thing, and she was reluctant to admit that—she was hearing voices again. So not what she needed. Trying to keep her words at a whisper, she couldn’t resist snapping back at her disembodied speaker, “What is your problem? Go away.”
Me? I don’t have a problem. You’re the one that’s too stuck up to talk to me.
The voice was clear and full of attitude. The person should be in her field of vision. Somewhere.
I’m right here.
She shuddered. She couldn’t see anyone talking to her. She tugged the neck of her soft blue t-shirt away from her throat as panic settled in.
Ease up, will you? You’ll figure it out—eventually.
A heavy harrumph, followed by a huge gusting sigh caught her attention, even as she listened to the voice in her head. She searched the large room. Her glance bounced off a nervous-looking dog then came back to another spot as a huge basset hound did a boneless slide down to the wood floor at the far side of the room. When his chest hit the floor, a heavy sigh gusted out of his mouth. From the sounds of it, the poor thing was exhausted.
Yeah, you’re there.
Distracted by the voice, she looked around. “Shut up,” she hissed, hoping to see a person approaching her. No one was even close. Neither were any animals.
No, no. This was not happening again. She had spent years in therapy because she thought people, and yes, the odd animal talked to her when they weren’t. Therapy had worked, finally—after three specialists…and more medications than a pharmacy had a right to offer. She couldn’t allow anything to screw up her mind now, or her new job.
Well, that’s good. Because I’m definitely not nothing. I am something. Mosey’s the name, by the way.
Ninna closed her eyes and swallowed hard. Please let there be a short person somewhere playing a joke on me. Please.
Oh, quit your whining. You should be happy to talk to me. I’m happy to talk to you. You know there are not many people that can connect with dogs the way you do. What a great place for you to work.
“Oh. That’s not right. This is so not the place for me,” she whispered under her breath. But she had to make it work. She was desperate.
Yeah, about that. A little too late to be making that discovery, isn’t it? Didn’t you just say something about being broke?
“No, I didn’t. I thought something about it.” This was the first time there was dialogue, not just hearing voices. And that made this scenario even more bizarre. Realizing her voice had risen, she glanced around nervously.
Bizarre, smishare. You need to get over yourself. My food dish is empty. Isn’t filling it one of your new job’s duties?
“Oh, no,” she whispered under her breath, afraid of what was to come. “Please don’t.”
Please don’t what?
“Please don’t tell me you’re a dog?”
A half snuffle sounded beside her. She stole a quick look. A big black Doberman sat staring at her, his pointed ears tilted in her direction.
She slunk deeper into her chair, giving the dog a wary half smile. It was happening all over again. Damn, she needed to call her therapist.
“He’s something isn’t he?”
Startled, Ninna looked up to see the owner of the Doberman, or at least the leash holder, smiling down at her. Tall, slim and pink. Ninna winced. Surely there was a law against that much pink being hoarded in one spot. The middle-aged woman said, “He’s really gentle. He looks dangerous, but he’s a kind soul.”
Ninna relaxed slightly and laughed. “That’s great. I’d hate to meet him alone at night.”
“No worries. He sleeps on my double bed, complaining that my husband and I haven’t left him enough room.”
Wow. That dog was so big she’d never have short-changed his space in the first place. Ninna would have given up her bed and moved to the spare room instead.
As the woman walked away, Ninna surveyed the other animals in the room. Wagging, wiggling, fur-covered canines swarmed the room. Ninna didn’t even want to think about trying to figure out if one of these dogs was the cause of her derailed imagination.
A small rat-like thing with huge hairy ears, barked at her several times. The sound sent razor blades scraping down her spine. She shuddered. A deep woof sounded from the far side of the room. She didn’t know the breed, but the furry thing in front of her looked like a teddy bear with a pink bow on its head. She really needed to brush up on her breeds.
Ninna continued to survey the mess of people and dogs until her gaze landed on a ray of sunshine beaming in through the large window and something with a whole lot of skin to fill out sitting beside it—the same huge basset hound she’d seen earlier.
No way. She narrowed her eyes to study the overweight dog before shaking her head. Nope, impossible.
Hey, you found me. Maybe you’ll pick this up faster than I expected.
Several dogs walked between them, sniffing the air in her direction.
She studied the new dogs, searching for a sign to confirm which of them might have spoken. With so much confusion and noise, it appeared that no one else noticed anything unusual, so chances were good that the dog wasn’t speaking aloud. Groan. Of course it wasn’t. It couldn’t, for God’s sake. Animals didn’t talk.
She took several deep breaths and tried to relax. She’d heard voices like this before. She’d ignored them back then, and she could ignore this one now.
Well, ya ain’t gonna ignore me. You know how long it’s been since I had someone to talk to? The voice was heavily sarcastic and sounded puffy, as if the speaker were out of breath.
Her stomach knotted and Ninna gulped. Nope. Not happening. She could control this. It was her choice to let that voice in or not. She’d spent years figuring out how to block them out. She’d gotten so good at it, she’d become lax—time had eased the fear, so she’d actually forgotten about the problem, until now.
Yeah, let me know how that works out for you. I’m so not going away.
Ninna frowned as something odd registered. This time, whoever was speaking had to be reading her mind, and that meant this had to be her imagination.
With that understanding, she broke out in a sunny smile. Whew. She could deal with that. She’d just make an appointment with her doctor and get her old prescription reactivated and filled. He might need her to see a therapist again, but even that was no trouble. Not considering the options.
You could just acknowledge that you can talk to dogs. Surely, that would be easier. Stupid people. Always make things more complicated than they have to be.
Dogs? So, I am communicating with a dog? Acknowledge such folly? Hell, no! And why a dog? If she did imagine a talking animal, why not a beautiful wolf, or at the very least, a majestic eagle?
I’d rather be a bloody horse, but hey, I am what I am. I should have been a Newfoundland dog, but someone screwed up the original orders. So guess what? If I have to deal with it, then so do you.
Gripping the armchair tightly, Ninna opened her eyes and studied the dogs around her—from a little one in a woman’s arms to something that was huge and black and white. She thought it was a Great Dane. There was no sign of a Newfoundland dog…if they were the ones that resembled black bears.
I said I should have been one of those. Geez, don’t you listen?
“I don’t have to listen to you.” Her answer just seemed to slip out on its own.
Yeah, ya do, unless you’re going to drug yourself up or run away again.
Again? How could he know about her history?
Because you were just talking about it, dumb ass. Maybe you should go and get your prescriptions filled now. Whatever the pills are. You’re starting to sound like you might need them.
Deep under the disbelief and fear that she truly was on her way to bedlam, irritation and anger stirred. She didn’t ha
ve to take this, especially if it was her imagination. She deserved respect—no, she demanded it.
Snort. Let me know when you’re looking for some input on that. Not.
“If you’re not my imagination and you’re not a gorgeous Newfoundland, who and what are you?” There, that should fix the speaker. Thank heavens she was still alone in her corner where no one could hear her. She definitely needed to call her doctor when she got home.
Go ahead and call him. Get more drugs into your system. Let more doctors into your head. Ignore what’s really in there. What do I care? I’m just a dumb basset hound to you. It’s not like you’re going to listen to me no matter what form I’m in. Your kind never does.
Basset hound? That basset hound from the sun? Had she seen any other one? Really? Okay, that was a bit much. She spun around, looking for the fat one she’d seen earlier. “Okay, smarty pants imagination, I can’t see any basset hounds here.”
Just then the group of people standing in front of her moved.
The same huge basset hound she’d caught sight of before lay slumped on the floor, soaking up the sunlight, and taking up way too much space in a crowded room like this. With all those wrinkles he looked closer to a skin dog, what is that breed…a shar pei.
Oh, aren’t you a comedian now? See if I care. Insult me all you want. I know what I am and I know what you are. Someone who refuses to accept what they have. A gift.
Stunned, she sunk as deep in the chair as she could get, staring in horrified fascination at the boneless mess of patchwork colors. She eyed him carefully. That dog was looking to get stepped on. And was that a food dish sitting beside him? Surely not.
What’s wrong with keeping my food bowl close? I want to be on hand when someone fills it. Is that so hard to understand? And you call me stupid. I’m Mosey. You. Are. Psychic.
As she watched, he rolled onto his back, his long ears flapping to the floor on either side of him. Then those loose jowls slopped to the floor as they reformed into a wide grin.
His mouth never moved, but the voice in her head, continued taunting.
Boo. I see you.
Chapter 2
“Hi, Ninna.”
Ninna pulled her shocked, disbelieving gaze away from the canine comic on the floor, to see a tall curvy redhead with features similar to Stuart’s. The matching bright red hair cinched it. This had to be Stuart’s sister. He’d called her Stacey, hadn’t he?
Her next statement confirmed it. “Welcome to Lost for Options. I’m Stacey Colbert.”
“Uhm, hi, Stacey. Nice to meet you.” Flushing with embarrassment, Ninna quickly stood to shake the proffered hand. She couldn’t help but feel like plain Jane compared to the statuesque woman in front of her. Ninna had dressed in standard skirt and top for her first day, but Stacey’s designer jeans and swanky shirt looked the perfect attire to marry business with chaos.
“Follow me and we’ll find an empty office in the back where we can talk.” Smiling cheerfully, Stacey carved a path through the crowd.
Ninna cast a last look at the basset hound, only to see one paw drop in a parody of a good-bye wave. A faint sweat broke out across her forehead. She raced to catch up with her guide. They walked through a large set of double doors into a cooler and quieter hallway where the noise level was so much easier on her ears. At the third doorway to the left, Stacey motioned for her to go in.
“I’m going to grab a coffee. Would you like one, too?”
“That would be great, thank you.”
“Good, the coffee in here is for the staff. There is coffee out in the main reception room, but sometimes it’s impossible to make it through the crowd. You can always count on finding some here.” Stacey walked over to the sideboard where there were several coffee makers lined up. She poured out two cups and handed one to Ninna. “There’s cream and sugar at the table, if you need them.”
Ninna shook her head. “Thanks, but I prefer my caffeine straight.”
“Then you should fit in around here. We’d all inject it into our veins if we could.” Stacey’s smile was wide, genuine and irresistible.
Falling under the friendly spell, Ninna relaxed a little more, realizing she could really be happy here. “Sounds like home already.”
“Good. Then let’s get you started.” Stacey led the way back out to the hallway. “We’ll walk around and introduce you to everyone and get you set up at your desk.”
“Do I get introduced to all the dogs, too?” Ninna asked.
Stacey laughed. “There’re no dogs here on a permanent basis, but you’ll get to know the regulars quickly. As for the others, you’ll just go crazy if you try to figure them all out at once.”
“Really?” Ninna didn’t know if she dared to ask, but figured she could get away with it today of all days—as a newbie. “I thought I saw a basset hound out there in the common room?”
“You probably did. We have any number of breeds through here on a daily basis, due to the unique set-up here between the vet clinic, shelter, socializing at the park and the many different classes we offer.”
She had to be satisfied with that. Maybe she’d be lucky and never see that dog again.
The rest of the day passed by in a blur. New jobs were deadly.
Perfectly situated, her work was close enough that she could walk home if she chose, something that would save on gas expenses. For her first day, she’d driven to make sure she arrived on time. There was so much to learn, sort through and memorize that she’d used up all the available energy that by day’s end she could barely walk at all. The fresh air revived her slightly as she made her way to her car.
The good news was that she’d been so busy for the rest of the day she’d barely thought of her crazy conversation this morning or that baggy basset hound lying in the sunlight.
Try to forget me, will ya? I don’t think so. And who are you calling fat? You’re the one who had that second muffin this morning.
Ninna’s hand froze, her key remote still pointing at her car door. No. This can’t be happening. It wasn’t right.
Well, it sure as hell isn’t wrong.
“Oh yes, it is,” she muttered aloud, hitting the unlock button. Quickly she jumped in and locked the door. Jamming the keys into the ignition, she started the engine. As the purr rippled through the interior of the car, relief shuddered through her. Not another woof or a whimper. She put the car in reverse and backed out of her spot. Turning the wheel, she had to force herself to stay at a sedate pace as she headed out of the parking lot. She couldn’t resist one last glance as she drove past.
And wished she hadn’t.
Sauntering toward her, across the long covered porch was the same basset hound.
Shit. She’d had enough of him for one day.
But he obviously hadn’t.
You can run, but you can’t hide.
She hit the gas and tore down the street.
Ninna parked haphazardly, knowing she shouldn’t even have driven home in her current state. That damn taunting voice in her head as she’d exited the lot had finished her. Now she needed a double shot of something. Either that or a mess of Prozac. She fumbled for her house key and finally managed to get the front door open.
She entered quickly, slammed the door closed and locked it. Tossing her purse onto the couch, she raced into the bedroom where she threw herself down on her bed.
It’s just my imagination. “It’s just my imagination. Oh God, please let it be my imagination.”
Her voice grew louder and louder until she was almost screaming with her frustration. Eventually she groaned and ran out of breath.
In the dead silence that followed, her phone rang.
Normal. Mundane. Like it should be.
She pulled her phone out of her pants pocket.
“So, how was first day on the job?” Jane Durant, her best friend, sounded bored as usual. Must be hard to be a daddy’s girl with a trust fund—not. Regardless of the difference in their financial realities, the two had
met years ago and had been fast friends ever since. “It was fine. Crazy when I got there, but things settled down eventually.” Ninna rubbed her sore eyes, wondering how much she dared say.
“Were you nervous? Did you manage to get in the door without having a panic attack?”
Ninna’s eyes opened wide. Could that be the answer? The shrinks had warned her that she needed to lower her stress levels. This morning she’d been so scared that something would go wrong—worried she’d get fired—that she had been beyond nervous.
She sat up, grinning. Yes. She wasn’t going crazy. It had just been a tough day. That’s all. Relief at that possibility lightened her heart and eased her mind.
“Hello? Are you there?” Her friend asked.
“Yeah, I’m here. I’m exhausted, though.”
“That’s to be expected. How about I pick up a pizza and come by? We’ll put on a couple of chick flicks and hang out. That will take your mind off the day and you can rest.”
Ninna laughed. “What would I do without you?”
A loud snicker came through the phone lines. “You’d replace me with someone else. I have no doubts about that. I’ll be there in an hour.” Jane hung up.
Ninna didn’t want to move—lying on the bed was all the effort she could handle right now—unless it was for a shower. Once the thought of a shower entered her mind, she couldn’t shake it. Finally, with only half an hour until Jane’s arrival, she dragged herself under the hot water. She’d meant to call her shrink and make an appointment first, but the office would likely have been closed anyway. Maybe it was for the best. If stress were the culprit, then her problem should ease on its own by the weekend.
There might even be some old medications lying around—although she knew that wasn’t the wisest choice.
Pizza and a movie were perfect for tonight. Pulling on her black stretch yoga pants and top, she headed to the back deck where she moved through a couple of yoga positions and practised her deep breathing. She heard a knock on the door, so walked back inside and opened her front door.
And stopped.
