Enough of this for now.
“Well, Dad, I’m gonna eat. Give Nancy my regards. I’ll come around next week to see you two, but let’s get in a round of golf this weekend. Care to pick up our usual wager?”
“You better believe it. Let’s do it Sunday. I’ll call for a tee time. Wanna say 9:00 a.m.?”
We say our goodbyes, and I end the call and eat my three chicken breasts and drink another beer while enjoying my deck and the view of the moonlight on the lake. I grab my black journal and start sketching. My thoughts return to Aspen, which makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I can’t get her cherry-red lips out of my mind. Something strange ignited between us, and it pisses me off. Maybe I just need to get laid.
I think about her mouth and the statement she made to me with it when we were sixteen. That day in the school cafeteria changed my life. And as much as I hate that mouth, today I wanted nothing more than to kiss it.
What the hell’s wrong with me?
It’s then that I notice what I’m drawing. Cherries. I scribble a big fat X over them.
3
Aspen
“Oh no you don’t, Dagny!” I yell, setting down my first coffee of the day, and grabbing the neon-green plastic squirt gun from my kitchen counter.
She ignores me.
“Sorry, darlin’, but you gotta learn.” I hold out my plastic gun, arm straight, like an assassin. I close my right eye, aiming, ready to fire… and I squirt my gray-haired bunny just as she bites the electrical cord to my laptop in the living room. Bullseye! Right in her cute little butt. She takes off running.
I feel bad, but it’s the best way to train the little gal, otherwise I’ll have gnawed and frayed electrical cords all over the condo. It’s a fire hazard. And a fried bunny hazard, too.
“Discipline is the name of the game, Dagny,” I say with firm love, “and I’ll do what’s necessary to train you. You’ll be better off for it, too. And alive. Trust me.”
I spin the brown, dinosaur-aged, high-top chair I’m sitting on, and it groans its displeasure, but it’s all I can afford right now. Most of the things in my condo are hand-me-downs. They’ll have to suffice until I make more money in a few years. I’ll get new furniture then. Until that day, it’s little things of quality that drip pleasure into my life, like my favorite coffee cup I’m drinking from now. It’s by Ralph Lauren and it’s striking, a cup and saucer, both rimmed with leopard print.
My condo is sparse in decor, but I’ve managed to decorate it with a wildlife theme throughout. Each room displays some form of animal motif, even if it’s only a pillow on the couch, a towel in the bathroom, my cup in the kitchen, or the sheets on my bed.
Since moving back here after graduating from college in Arizona a few years ago, I’ve been a workaholic, helping Mom with the bistro, signing up restaurant clients for my pies to save more money, and dreaming big. But I like it. I thrive on it. The buzz of waking up with a list of things to tackle energizes me. Well, that and coffee. When I have a list of a hundred things to do, the wind in my sail stays strong. It’s the emptier days, which, thankfully, are as rare as albino alligators, that I sludge through, drinking extra cups of coffee and needing toothpicks to hold my eyes open.
The busier, the better.
I take a sip of my coffee as today’s plans begin to take shape in my brain. Realizing that I should probably have something more substantial in my belly than creamy coffee, I get up and pad my way to the refrigerator for the bowl of leftover pasta. Standing in front of the fridge, with the door wide open, I start eating the cold, rubbery penne with my fingers.
Then, out of the corner of my eye, I see Dagny going for that damn cord again. “No! Dagny! Wicked girl!” I yell and run to the counter to grab the squirt gun. She looks at me and takes off running behind the couch. Maybe she’s learning.
I grimace, hoping she’s not too scared, and I pull the couch away from the wall. I grab her, cooing words of love to settle her rapidly beating heart. I sit with her on the couch and pet her luxurious, soft gray fur. I wanted a dog, but I knew I’d never get to the dog park, and I don’t have a yard. A cat wasn’t an option because Mom is allergic to them. She can step foot in a house that had a cat five years ago and still have a sneezing fit. Fish? I passed on the idea. They’re boring and unsnuggleable.
I look at my adorable bunny, her tiny, black nose twitching. “Big day today, Dagny,” I say, and my grin grows wide. “My dream is coming true. Robert committed!” I yell, and Dagny looks up at me, her heart racing again. “I’m buying a hotel!” I don’t think Dagny understands, but she wiggles her nose, and her little whiskers dance back and forth, which makes me happy.
“And do you know what that means for you? When Mom and I turn it into a bed-and-breakfast, you can live there, too, and meet all kinds of interesting people! You’ll never be alone!” Dagny glances at me nervously—as she usually does—but I think she understands that this big day is big for both of us.
I look at my watch. I need to get going!
I put Dagny into her cage, slam the rest of my lukewarm coffee, and sprint up the stairs two at a time. I take a shower and blow-dry my hair, wrinkling my nose at the dark, evil roots screaming at me from my scalp. I need to buy hair bleach
