Finders Keepers

by N. R. Walker

  Like I said. It was stupid.

  But then I noticed something else in the photo.

  Wicket was sitting up on a brown leather sofa, his front foot on Griffin’s thigh. Wicket’s eyes were big, brown, and curious, looking at the phone as the photo was taken, and like Griffin said, his head was tilted in that cute way he did. He looked happy and healthy enough, safe and well-fed. None of that was a concern to me.

  Griffin had his free hand on Wicket’s side, probably patting him or giving him a scratch, and that was all fine too.

  But he wore a bracelet that caught my eye. A dark leather bracelet that had a small silver clasp with small bands of colour. The gay pride colours, to be exact.

  My heart did some weird, tight-skipping-swoop thing. He could have been oblivious to the whole rainbow pride thing, though I was pretty certain that particular bracelet was only for sale on LGBT sites. Which meant one thing. He was LGBT, or somewhere on the LGBT spectrum. Maybe.

  Okay then.

  Jesus, Dane. Get a grip.

  It didn’t mean anything. I didn’t know if he was single or even looking or even remotely interested. The fact I could talk to him like no one else didn’t mean anything either. Just because he understood my job didn’t make me the poster child for everything right and wrong in the telecommunications industry. I loved my job, and I hated that it became an issue when brought up in conversation with some people.

  But not Griffin.

  He understood the whole concept of being the face of a brand was wanting our customers to be happy. Sure, guys were okay with it only after I’d explained it, but Griffin got it from the get-go.

  And he was so kind to Wicket. Above everything else, that’s what I liked the most. He didn’t just treat him like a dog. He treated him exactly the way I did.

  Jesus, Dane. Get a grip.

  I told myself that a hundred times; getting ready for bed, lying in bed. Even in my dreams, dream-me told me to get a grip. I was slipping down a slope of puppacino froth and my brain kept telling me to get a damn grip, Dane. Just get a goddamn grip. I woke up with a start, just before my alarm went off. I had a shower, got dressed, forced some breakfast down, all the while telling myself to get a bloody grip.

  And I kind of did, until the first message made my phone beep just after nine a.m. It was a photo, of course. Of a now-slightly-green Wicket rolling in fresh grass clippings. Those grass stains weren’t coming out of his fur anytime soon, but the smile on his face was ridiculous.

  There was a laughing emoticon and a caption. Little bugger. Good thing he’s cute.

  I couldn’t reply because we were in the middle of open discussions, though I was sure a few people noticed I was sneaking a look at my phone. Either that or my smile gave me away.

  About an hour later, my phone buzzed again. Another photo. This time, a very wet Wicket was standing on a boogie board, floating in ankle deep water with Griffin’s bracelet hand holding the board. Wicket’s tongue was hanging out the side of his mouth, and it looked like he was smiling up at, not the camera exactly, but more at Griffin.

  A caption followed it. Swim and surfing lesson 1:Grass stains 0

  Was it absurd that, along with missing Wicket like crazy, I was also feeling a bit jealous? Not of Griffin getting to spend time with my dog. But of Wicket getting to spend time with Griffin. I couldn’t help but think it was unfair that Wicket knew what Griffin looked like and I didn’t.

  Jesus, Dane. Get a grip.

  This was getting ludicrous, but the more I didn’t want Griffin to send me any more photos, the more I couldn’t wait.

  And he didn’t disappoint.

  They were at the beach. Coolum Beach, if I could tell correctly. The photo was of a sleeping Wicket on a beach towel, flat out on his back, his little feet in the air. He usually slept that way when he’d had a busy day… but he was kind of lying against Griffin. Well, I assumed it was Griffin. Lean, a little pale, I could see a glimpse of skin above his bunched-up blue board shorts, then long legs with dark leg hair and long feet, then a stretch of golden sand and white-capped waves on the aqua blue ocean.

  The caption read Battery recharge complete in 4… 3… 2…

  The scenery, one of the world’s most beautiful beaches, paled in comparison to the body shot. It wasn’t even provocative in any way. He didn’t send the photo of him. He sent it of Wicket, sound asleep after a fun morning doing crazy things. But I couldn’t stop looking at him. At Griffin, that is. His skin looked cool from the water and warmed by the sun. I could see a dusting of salt and sand, and his thigh looked lean but strong and defined. His feet… he had really big feet, and those too-cute toes I’d seen in an earlier photo of him barefoot in the grass…

  God, I was in trouble.

  How was that even possible? I didn’t even know this guy. Well, I did, a little bit, but not really. I felt like I knew him. That with every photo, with every caption, I got to see the real him. I’d spoken to him, sure. And from our few phone conversations, I knew he was passionate about the welfare of animals, worked front desk at five-star hotels, lived upstairs from an old lady and mowed her lawn, and had a sense of humour. I knew he loved being outdoors, loved being active, ate pizza, and took naps in the afternoon because my dog did and he thought it looked like a great idea.

  I knew enough, and I knew that, yeah, I was in trouble.

  By lunchtime, I had another photo. It was Wicket in the passenger side of what I assumed to be Griffin’s car. Griffin was standing next to his car, the door open. Wicket was standing on the seat with a grin on his little face and a look that kind of said, Would you hurry the hell up?

  The caption said, He’s impatient. I said ‘puppacino’ and he started to bounce. He’d tacked on a laughing emoticon, and I was smiling at my phone as I replied.

  You’re killing me! I’m so jealous but I’m loving the pics. Wish I was with you guys instead of here.

  The little text bubble showed, and I got butterflies knowing Griffin’s reply was coming. We had lunch at the Surf Club. We shared grilled fish and chips. Wicket didn’t mind the no puppacino because he lo-o-o-o-ves fish! I told him we’d have to do lunch with you when you come to pick him up. Hope you don’t mind.

  Don’t mind at all. My shout.

  Wicket says there better be puppacinos. LOL

  Sonia, a manager from Brisbane, nudged my elbow with hers. “Someone was lying the other day when he said he wasn’t seeing someone…”

  It took me a second to remember our conversation the other night, and I had, indeed, told her I was single.

  “No, I’m not. I promise.”

  “No one smiles at photos like that to someone they’re not into.”

  I held up my phone and showed her the photo. “It’s my dog, Wicket. He’s kinda like my kid.”

  Sonia studied the photo for a second. “He’s a cutie. Who’s he staying with while you’re here?”

  “It’s kind of a long story, but he’s being babysat by a guy in Coolum…”

  Sonia’s smile was slow-spreading. I imagined it matched mine. She raised her eyebrows. “Yeah, the smile. It’s for the guy, not the cute fur baby.”

  I tried to not smile. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

  Sonia hummed and stabbed her salad with a fork, shoving it in her mouth to hide the smug smirk. “Mmm, I think you do.”

  I bit into my sandwich so I didn’t have to answer her. Instead, I sent back a text that I regretted sending as soon as I’d done it. You’ll have to send a photo that includes you so I know who I’m meeting in three days…

  Griffin hadn’t replied by the time I went back to the afternoon session of my course, and I was pretty sure he now thought I was some freak who was one text away from asking for dick pics. Or sending them.

  Regret churned the sandwich in my stomach, and I pretended to be interested in the focus-group stuff I was supposed to be taking part in. Yet, I couldn’t stop thinking about Griffin, and the other relationships I’d messed up or dodged a bull
et on.

  I’d had my fair share of broken hearts, and I’d done my share of the breaking. The longest relationship I’d had was twelve months, and instead of celebrating our one-year anniversary going out for dinner and having incredible sex, Tamir collected his few things from my place and told me he was sorry.

  His family would never accept his inclination for men and it would be better for everyone if he were to end things and leave.

  Sure, he’d broken my heart, but I didn’t hold it against him. He wasn’t ready to come out because of his overly religious family and would probably never be able to. I would never begrudge anyone for not being out. Everyone had their reasons, and not everyone was as lucky as me to have a completely accepting family.

  That was over a year ago, and apparently my heart was vying for new attention. It had certainly taken an interest in Griffin, a guy I’d barely known for a few days, whether my brain thought it was a good idea or not. It wasn’t anything more than infatuation; at least my brain could rein my heart in that much. But infatuation was still enough to make me a little giddy and nervous, and then I remembered that Griffin was probably considering driving Wicket to a vet and letting them look after him until I could collect him because I’d requested a photo like it would determine whether I wanted to have lunch with him in three days…

  Nope. I couldn’t think of that right now.

  I let my memories wander on their own and tried to recall the relationships I’d had before Tamir. There’d been a healthy share of one-nighters and the occasional two-nighters and a few guys I’d dated a month or so.

  But no one who had caught my eye or connected with me in any way. I needed a connection over anything else because, if I connected with a guy, attraction followed. Sure, I’d seen guys I’d been in lust with, who I thought were hot as hell as soon as I saw them. But if I couldn’t talk to them, hold a conversation, and chat with them, my heart wasn’t in it.

  Tamir and I had first met when he’d come into the store. There was nothing more than held gazes and timid smiles; it was a professional transaction, after all. But then I’d run into him the next week at an outdoor concert with my friends, and after a second of mutual trying to place each other, we joined the dots to his new phone and his visit to the Telstra shop.

  It had been slow between us at first, while Tamir found his feet, and it was secretive. But I didn’t mind. I liked him, and we were never short on conversation. I didn’t even mind the not-going-out or the no-PDA rules or the fact his family didn’t even know I existed. I understood his dilemma; it wasn’t an ideal situation for either of us. But behind closed doors, things had been easy and natural, until it wasn’t. For him, anyway. But like I said, I didn’t blame him. I was over it now, and like my mum had said after I’d told her Tamir left me and she’d hugged me and cried with me, I’d find someone else who would make me happy. When my heart was healed and ready, she’d said, I’d find someone, more than likely, when I wasn’t even looking.

  Well, I wasn’t looking now. I really wasn’t.

  Or so I told myself.

  And when Griffin still hadn’t replied when I was back in my hotel room for the night, disappointment fought with regret in my belly. It was stupid, really. That I should be tied up in knots over a guy I barely knew. We’d had no more contact than a few phone calls, a couple of laughs, and a bunch of text messages. And the photos. Let’s not forget the photos.

  Sonia had insisted I meet with her and the rest of the gang in the hotel restaurant at seven, and truth be told, I didn’t have much of an appetite. But this work conference was about networking as much as it was educational and about team building, and so I’d agreed.

  I changed into jeans and a T-shirt, put on some more deodorant, splashed my face with water, and told my reflection in the bathroom mirror to get his shit together. Everyone was at the bar when I arrived an artful ten minutes late. One beer and a few laughs later, I was feeling much better. I’d managed to not think, or overthink, as tended to be my problem, about things I couldn’t control and settled in to have a good night with some work friends.

  When we were sitting at our table waiting for our meals, Jamie was telling a funny story about a customer who had brought in their laptop because of internet connectivity issues only to discover, in a very public setting, that it was the illegal downloading of porn that had infected his device with viruses.

  We’d all burst into laughter just as my phone beeped with a message. It was from Griffin, and I braced myself for a short, terminating text.

  Busy afternoon. Going for walks and taking naps, you know, the important stuff. He added a wink.

  Then followed with a photo, and I almost dropped my phone. It was a selfie of a dark-haired guy with a bit of scruff, wearing sunglasses and a breathtaking smile. He was holding Wicket, and I didn’t know which of them was grinning the biggest. The sun was shining, they were outside, trees in the background, so possibly a park or a backyard.

  My heart squeezed, uncomfortably tight and wonderful at the same time. Griffin was… well, he was… I stared at the picture. I couldn’t look away. If someone said, design your idea of a perfect guy, I was staring at it. Gorgeous, smiling in the sunshine, and holding Wicket. That was the holy trifecta.

  “What is it?” Sonia asked, trying to peek at my phone screen.

  “Oh, nothing, sorry,” I said. I hadn’t realised the conversation around the table had stopped and they were looking at me.

  “Is that him?” Sonia asked, her smile wide and knowing.

  I let out a long breath and handed her my phone. She stared at it, then stared at me. “I can see why you’re reconsidering your single status. He’s cute!”

  “I’m not reconsidering anything,” I said, not sounding one bit convinced.

  I was saved by the waiter bringing our dinner, thankful for the distraction. Everyone was trying not to look at me and pretended I wasn’t blushing. Sonia slid my phone to me and gave me a kind smile. She leaned in and whispered, “Sorry.”

  “It’s fine.” I took a deep breath and shook my head, turning my plate around. “I, um, it’s only kind of new, and he doesn’t know…” God, my face flamed.

  Mack, a guy from Townsville, gave me a pointed look. “Did you learn nothing from today’s focus group on risk management having a positive outcome?”

  I snorted. “All I learned today was that my dog is having the time of his life with the man of my dreams, and I’m stuck here with you guys.”

  Mack laughed. “I’ll give you the short version of what was a three-hour lecture. Take the risk.”

  They all smiled, and one by one, they raised their glasses. “Cheers to that.”

  Chapter Five

  Griffin

  * * *

  I’d deliberately sent Dane a photo of Wicket that included my hand with the bracelet, and he never mentioned the bracelet at all. Maybe he didn’t know what it was. Maybe he was straight and happily paired off with some super nice girl. Hell, he could be married for all I knew.

  After all, straight guys rarely noticed wristbands, let alone one with a small silver clasp with even smaller bands of colour. But someone in the know definitely would notice it, and as it turned out, Dane was obviously not.

  I was a little disappointed. I couldn’t help but wish this newfound back-and-forth banter with him was going somewhere, and there’d been mention of a lunch date in a few days. But after he never commented about the stupid bracelet, I was pretty sure I was heading up a dead-end street.

  I spent the rest of the afternoon enjoying my last day of freedom by taking another quick nap—at Wicket’s insistence—then a long walk to the park. Also at Wicket’s insistence. Then I made sure my work uniform was all in order, set about making some dinner, and finally replied to Dane.

  I hadn’t ignored him deliberately. Like I said, I was busy. And disappointed. But then he’d asked for a photo of me, so he knew who he was taking out for lunch. It wasn’t a date, I reminded myself. He was just being
polite after I’d rescued Wicket. That was all. Who knew, maybe he’d bring his girlfriend along…

  I wasn’t sure what the photo request was really about though. Was it a security thing? So he could give the photo to his family to provide to the police should he never be seen again? Hell, maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea.

  Not that I thought he was some crazy axe murderer or psycho catfisher, but I also wasn’t naïve. ‘He met up with some random man’ was usually how segments of Australia’s Most Wanted started, and let’s be honest. Most people thought how could he have been so stupid? when they heard news reports of people wandering off to meet someone they met online or over the phone.

  And I wasn’t naïve, but I still liked to believe there are good people in the world. I liked to think there were still people who were who they said they were. But I needed to be smart about the whole thing. I’d meet him in a public place to hand Wicket back, and I’d tell someone where I was going. But having a photo of him wouldn’t hurt. That was even if he would send me an actual real photo and not some profile picture he’d stolen from some unsuspecting guy online.

  I sighed loud enough that Wicket looked up at me from eating his dinner. “Is your dad a good guy?” I asked him. Which was stupid. I didn’t think anyone who loved a dog as much as Dane seemed to could be a horrible person. And him asking for a photo wasn’t totally unreasonable, I allowed. If it was for security reasons. I mean, it wasn’t like he was interested and wanted to know what I looked like for interested reasons.

  Was it?

  Would me asking him for a photo be for security reasons or to quench my own curiosity?

  Would he send me an honest photo, or would he lie? I’d find out in three days if it was or wasn’t him that turned up to collect Wicket… I mean, what if it wasn’t Wicket’s owner at all?