by Lane Hart
“I-I don’t know anything about how to care for dogs. I’m so sorry, Phillip. You need to take her to a vet.”
“How…where do I go?” I ask her, my voice frantic. “My bike’s down…”
“Come on,” she says, grabbing her purse from behind the door. “We’ll find a vet that’s open all night.”
“Thank you,” I tell her as I turn and hurry out, down the front porch stairs and to the passenger side of her car.
Joanna opens the door for me to slip inside and then hurries around to the driver seat as if she understands and appreciates the urgency of the situation.
I cannot let this dog die. I just can’t.
Chapter Nine
Joanna
The instant I saw Fiasco’s face on the other side of my door, I was relieved that he came back. Then I saw the hurt animal in his arms and realized it wasn’t a social call. He showed up on my doorstep because he needed medical help.
I drive us to the closest vet that I think is open all night. There are three cars in the parking lot and the light is still on, which I take as a good sign.
Phillip doesn’t say anything. He just jumps out, shutting the passenger door with his backside and hurries to the door with the dog in his arms. As soon as I turn my car off, I join him, opening the vet’s door to let him inside.
He frantically explains what happened to the woman behind the desk who shows him into an exam room.
“Lay her down gently here, and I’ll go get the vet,” the woman instructs him.
Phillip does what she asks, and then he moves up to stroke the dirty brown and white head, telling her, “I’m so sorry, girl. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
I know that no one would want to hurt an animal, but it looks like Phillip is more distraught than even I would be, like he hit a person instead of a dog. He is absolutely frantic and obviously blames himself.
A man in a wrinkled, white dress shirt and blue tie rushes into the room. I assume he’s the vet when he starts asking us questions while examining the dog. “Is he yours?”
“He?” Phillip says.
“He’s a male, and since you didn’t know, that likely answers my question.”
“He ran out in front of me,” Phillip explains. “I hit the brakes on my bike and tried to stop.”
“There’s no collar,” the vet notices. “Probably a stray. I’ll need to get some x-rays, and they’re not cheap. Are you willing to take on the expense, or should we put him out of his misery?”
“Put him…” Phillip starts in a questioning tone.
“Put him to sleep, yes. That’s the humane thing to do if he has internal injuries or multiple broken legs.”
“No! You have to fix him!” Phillip exclaims. “He can’t die because I hurt him!”
“It was an accident, Phillip,” I say when I step up next to him and lay a hand on his arm, noticing the pink flesh for the first time. He’s got road rash that must hurt something awful on top of still healing bullet wounds, but he’s more worried about the dog.
The vet looks from me to him and then back to me again. His eyes lower from my face to my chest, which is when I realize for the first time that I’m only wearing my thin satin pajamas and nothing else. Oh, and it’s very, very cold in here thanks to the air conditioning. Well, there’s nothing I can do now except take a step to the right so that I’m partially hidden behind Phillip’s massive body and pull my purse around to hide the left side.
Clearing his throat, the vet goes on to tell us, “I can’t even give you an estimate on the cost, not until I know more about the extent of the injuries. And I’m sorry, but our office policy for situations like this is to request a thousand dollar down payment to go toward the treatment expenses. If it’s more, we’ll ask before treating. If there’s anything remaining at the end of treatment, it will be refunded, of course.”
“A thousand dollars?” Phillip asks, eyes wide in shock.
“X-rays aren’t cheap for dogs or people,” the vet says. “He’ll also need to be given something for the pain, sooner rather than later if he’s to be kept alive. And the costs could be much greater if he needs surgery…”
“I-I don’t know what to do,” Phillip says.
“Can you give us a moment to talk outside?” I ask the vet, who nods.
“I’ll get the pain meds started. It’s the least I can do until you make a decision.” And the least he can do for being unprofessional when he was ogling my boobs, I think to myself. Although it’s not his fault I left the house without putting on clothes or grabbing a jacket.
“Thank you,” I tell him as I pull on Phillip’s arm to try and get him to come outside with me. He doesn’t budge. “Phillip? Let’s get some air and talk this over.”
He reaches for the dog’s head and rubs it again before he finally nods and lets me pull him out of the exam room and to the parking lot.
Phillip leans against the side of my car and runs his fingers through the front of his floppy blond hair while staring at his shoes. “I don’t have an extra thousand dollars.”
“It’s a lot of money,” I agree.
“But I can’t let him die!”
“I know,” I agree. “It’s a tough decision. But you don’t want him to suffer either, do you?”
He shakes his head. “I’ll find the money somewhere.” Looking up, he glances over at the closed stores across the street. “Even if I have to rob one of these joints.”
At first, I think I misheard him.
“You can’t be serious,” I say. But then I remember that he’s an outlaw biker and he’s incredibly desperate to help the dog. It’s sort of sweet in a way but confusing, to say the least. “Phillip? You know this wasn’t your fault, right? The dog ran out in front of you. It happens all the time.”
“No. I can’t…I won’t let another dog die because I fucked up.”
“Another dog?” I ask in confusion.
“Can you take me to my bike?” he asks. “I need my helmet or a ski mask…”
“No, Phillip! I won’t let you rob a store! Are you crazy?”
“What else can I do, Joanna?” he asks. “Today was the first time I’ve worked in two weeks! I don’t have an extra thousand dollars just lying around.”
“I do,” I tell him.
“What?” he looks at me with his brow furrowed. “No,” he says with a shake of his head. “I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You’re not asking. I’m telling you,” I say as I go over and open the door to go back inside. When I get to the desk, I put my purse on the counter and take out my wallet before telling the woman on the other side, “I’ll be putting down the thousand dollars for the dog we brought in.”
“Joanna!” Phillip says when he catches up to me. “Don’t.” He takes the wallet from my hand.
“I can’t promise I’ll be able to pay more if the cost goes over a thousand,” I look into his warm brown eyes to tell him honestly. “But shouldn’t we at least try?”
“You’ve already done so much for me, angel,” he says softly, his free hand lowering to his injured side.
“And Nash gave me more money than he should have for helping you,” I tell him.
“Nash paid you to…” He frowns as if it suddenly occurred to him.
“Yes,” I reply when I take my wallet from his hand. Opening it, I count out ten one-hundred-dollar bills and offer them to the receptionist. “The deposit for x-rays and all. If it goes over that, can you please have the vet talk to me before doing anything else?”
“Of course,” she agrees and then she hands me a clipboard. “While I get you a receipt, you can fill this out with your contact information and maybe give the dog a name?”
“Sure,” I agree.
I go over and sit down on the long, cushioned bench that runs in front of the wall to start filling out the forms. I barely get my name written down when Phillip takes a seat next to me.
“How much did Nash pay you?” he asks quietly.
“Eight thousand,” I answer without looking up from the form.
I get my address and phone number all put down. Then I look up at Phillip. “What do you want to name him?”
“I dunno,” he answers, leaning his back against the wall and straightening his cut. “How about Ace?”
“Ace is a good name,” I agree, knowing he got it from the Dirty Aces MC.
I write it all down and then get up to take the clipboard back to the receptionist.
“Thank you, and here’s your receipt,” she says, giving me the printout that I fold up and put into my purse. “Dr. Dallas will take care of…” she looks at the clipboard, “Ace tonight and give you a call before his shift ends at seven a.m.”
“I want to stay,” Phillip says.
The receptionist starts to say something, but I grab his hand to make him look at me. “You look exhausted. Did you work today?”
“Yes.”
“You shouldn’t have gone back to work so soon.”
“I know,” he agrees.
“There’s nothing we can do here but wait. You may as well get some sleep while we do that so you can work tomorrow, right?”
He nods. “I guess so.”
“Come on,” I tell him, tugging on his hand. “Thank you for your help,” I say to the receptionist when I hold the door open for him.
Thankfully, my car isn’t far away because Phillip quickly turns into a drunk zombie, like he’s on the brink of passing out. He even has to lean heavily against the side while he waits for me to unlock the doors, like the weight of the world is suddenly pressing down on him. It was probably the adrenaline earlier keeping him going, and now it’s fizzling out.
“Ace has to make it,” he says before he rests his forearms on top of the roof of my car and lays the side of his face down on them.
“I’m sure the vet will do everything he can to save him,” I say as I place my palm on the back of his leather cut to rub supportively.
“I haven’t had a dog or any pets in almost twenty years.”
“Oh yeah?” I say with a smile he can’t see because he’s still using his arms as pillows. “Why not?”
“Because my mom’s boyfriend killed my last dog.”
“Goodness, I’m so sorry, Phillip,” I tell him as my hand stills on his back. “Was it…was it an accident?”
“No. It was my fault.”
I wait for him to say more, but he doesn’t. He just opens the passenger door and slumps down inside, shutting it behind him.
No wonder he was so torn up about hitting a dog. He still feels guilty about whatever happened to his last pet because he thinks it was his fault it died. I think the man must have a heart as big as he is.
And while I can’t exactly afford to spend a thousand dollars on a strange dog, I know that it was money well spent. I just hope the vet can save him, for Phillip’s sake.
Chapter Ten
Fiasco
I don’t know why the fuck I told Joanna about Rosie. She probably thinks I’m a monster now. If she didn’t already.
I can’t believe I didn’t know that Nash paid her to take care of me. All this time, I thought…hell, I don’t know what I thought. But then I remember the envelope he gave her the day I left her house. Of course the MC paid her. She wasn’t missing work and trying to keep me alive out of the goodness of her heart.
“So, I guess I should take you to your house?” Joanna asks once she’s sitting in the driver seat of her car.
I wince, because on top of the shitty night it’s already been, now I have to be even more humiliated when Joanna sees where I live.
“Phillip?” she asks. I still haven’t gotten used to hearing her use my real name. It’s been so long since anyone has called me anything other than Fiasco, idiot, or stupid bastard.
“Yeah, my apartment,” I agree and then give her the directions.
I start to have her drop me off before she pulls into the complex, but my embarrassment of her seeing the rundown shithole is nothing compared to how fucking tired I am, too tired to walk even a few extra steps.
“Thanks for putting up the money for Ace,” I tell her when she pulls up in front of the door instead of a parking spot as if she knows how weak I feel. “I’ll pay you back.”
“That’s unnecessary, especially if it involves robbing a store,” she says with a smile.
“I’ll pay you back with legal cash then,” I promise her and then look out the car window to the crumbling building. “It may just take a while.”
“Will you need a ride to work tomorrow?” she asks.
I shake my head. “No, I’ll have Wirth pick up my bike; and until it’s fixed, I can drive my Thing.”
“Oh. Okay.”
For a second, I wonder if Joanna asked about giving me a ride because she wanted to see me again, but that’s just stupid. She only took care of me because Nash paid her to and she’s a nice person. She’s too good for someone like me. Too smart. Too beautiful. I can’t help but look at her face in the glow of what few streetlights still work in the parking lot. God, I wish I could ask her to come up to my apartment with me. Even knowing she would most likely say no, I would take the chance if my apartment wasn’t a disgusting wasteland.
“Sorry I had to bother you tonight,” I tell her.
“I’m not,” Joanna says.
I don’t know if she means that or is just being kind.
“What were you doing in my part of town when you live over here?” she asks.
Shit. Of course she’s smart enough to notice that. “I was…I was coming from work. We’re putting a roof on a place out near you.”
“Oh.”
Hopefully she believes that lie. It’s not like I could tell her the real reason, that I was hoping to catch a glimpse of her through her windows. That’s too damn creepy to admit.
“I noticed you have some scrapes on your arms. Do you want me to park to help you clean and bandage them?”
Crap. It does sound like she wants me to invite her up to my apartment. But I doubt it’s for anything half as dirty as the things I want to do with her. Besides, she’s just doing what she does for a living – trying to help. I can’t even imagine someone as incredible as her even sitting on my pathetic mattress on the floor, the only furniture I have, much less letting me touch her on it.
“No, that’s okay,” I reply. “Thanks for everything, angel.” I lean over and kiss her cheek before making myself climb out of her car and up the steps to my apartment without looking back, afraid that if I see her gorgeous face again, I may drop to my knees and beg her to come upstairs with me.
Joanna
Well, that settles that – Phillip doesn’t want me.
I gave him several chances to invite me to stay the night with him, and he turned me down. Now I feel so ridiculous for even pushing the issue.
The disappointment soon fades to what feels like anger.
So, when I get home, I call Casey and tell her everything that happened tonight with Phillip and that it’s all her fault that I made a fool of myself.
“It doesn’t make sense,” she says over the phone. “Why wouldn’t he ask you to come up after such an ordeal? He obviously was upset and could use some…comfort.”
“Because he’s not interested in me that way.”
“Then why did he kiss you before he left your house the other day?” she asks.
“I have no idea! But the kiss on the cheek tonight makes it absolutely clear that he doesn’t want me. God, men are so…infuriating.”
“They really are! So come with me to Wilmington on Friday!” Casey begs. “I don’t really want to go alone, and a night out is exactly what you need. There will be plenty of men there who will sleep with you.”
“How can you be so sure?” I ask.
“Because you’re beautiful, sweet, and innocent. The bikers will all want to eat you up!”
“I’ll think about it, okay?”
“That’s more than I could get out of you earl
ier, so I’ll take it,” she says. “Forget Fiasco. Or tell him about our plans Friday and see what he does. If he wants you, then he won’t approve of you going to the Knights’ bar.”
“Maybe,” I tell her. “But I think he’s made his opinion pretty damn clear already.”
Chapter Eleven
Fiasco
“I didn’t think it was possible, but you look even worse today than you did yesterday,” Devlin says when I get to the job site the next morning. “What happened?”
“Long night,” I tell him.
“You don’t say that like it was a good thing,” he replies with a chuckle. “I thought the only thing that ever kept you up late at night was pussy.”
“No, last night it was a dog. And Joanna.”
“Joanna?” Devlin exclaims. Rubbing his forehead like he has a headache, he says, “No, Fiasco. Tell me you weren’t messing around with Nash’s sister!”
“I didn’t. I shouldn’t have tried to see her,” I tell him. “Fuck, I’m so goddamn stupid! I’ll never be good enough or smart enough. I’ll always be broke. I dropped out of high school, so I’ll be doing this backbreaking bullshit work for the rest of my life! I’ve got two kids to support that I hardly ever see because their mamas think I’m too irresponsible. I live in a shitty apartment to make sure the kids are taken care of. There’s nothing for me to offer her, so why did I think for even a second that I could ever be good enough for a woman like Joanna?”
“Jesus,” Devlin mutters, blinking at me in surprise after my outburst. “I don’t know what to say to all of that. I’m sorry, man. I didn’t know things were that bad for you.”
“Yeah, well, they are. Always have been, always will be.”
Grabbing my shoulder, he says, “Shit will get better, Fiasco. Right now, you’re healing some serious injuries that could’ve killed you. I bet things will look up soon once you’re feeling better.”
