“What do you think you’re doing?” My eyes darted toward the envelope in his hand. “It’s illegal to open someone else’s mail without their permission. And you, most definitely, do not have mine.”
“These all look like bills. Final demands, if I’m right. Hiding something?” Keegan swept the envelopes together and rammed them into the glove box.
“Again, none of your business.” I gripped the steering wheel tighter. “You’ve invaded my life enough without sticking your nose in any deeper.”
“I haven’t even begun.”
With a flick of my hand, I set the volume of Christmas FM loud enough to drown out his voice and my thoughts.
****
Sammy, a homeless teen who sometimes slept outside my apartment building, sat huddled in a corner, with his grimy, and now wet, sleeping bag draped over his knees. Pour soul. He should be in a hostel or somewhere warmer than a street corner, but I guessed his dog Max had something to do with him being on the streets on a day like this.
“You live here?” Keegan glanced out of the car window and eyed the graffitied building with apparent distaste.
“What were you expecting, a penthouse overlooking the river?” My neighborhood wasn’t the safest place to live, but it was all I could afford. When I’d paid off my debts, I’d move somewhere better, cleaner, more secure.
“It’s not in the greatest of areas.”
“It works for me.” Admitting he was right wouldn’t happen. “Stay here. Make sure no one steals the car.”
“This jalopy? People are more likely to give you money out of pity to fix it than steal it.”
Ignoring him, I stepped out of the car.
He got out and slammed the door shut. “I should know where we live and what our love nest looks like.”
“Whatever. Suit yourself.”
I walked forward and hunkered down in front of Sammy. “Where’s Max?” At the sound of his name, the scraggy dog whose tongue was too big for his mouth and eyes too small for his head, stuck his face from beneath the stained sleeping bag.
Max’s breed was indeterminable. He was possibly the resulting cross-species love child between a Chihuahua and a possum.
“I was worried you wouldn’t be coming home.” Sammy shivered and wiped the back of his hand beneath his runny nose. “The thing is, they have a permanent bed for me, but I can’t take Max. They said I should take him to the pound.” He scratched the trembling dog behind its ears. “I can’t do that to the wee fella. He’s already been through the wars. Can you take him for me? Find him a home?”
The dog lifted his head and widened his eyes as if trying to charm me into finding him a place to live.
“I don’t know, Sammy. I have a lot on at work right now.”
Max whimpered as if he knew he was seconds away from abandonment, but permanent beds didn’t come easy, and it’d taken Sammy months to find one. More than once, I’d offered him my sofa, which, if the weather was bad enough, he took, but more often than not, he refused.
“No worries. I understand.” The sorrow in his eyes stabbed my heart.
There was no way I could let either of them down.
“Give him here.” I reached for the dog. If I didn’t take care of Max, Sammy would stay on the streets, and I didn’t need yet another worry weighing down my conscience.
“You’re the best. I knew I could count on you.” Sammy handed over the dog, who slobbered stinky kisses all over my face.
“Stop kissing me, you mangy mutt.” I laughed and put the rat-sized dog on the ground. “I won’t be home for about a week, but he’ll be somewhere safe, and after that, we’ll see what we can come up with.” During the day, I’d keep him in the castle’s kitchen out of harm’s way, and at night, he could sleep in my room. Brendan wouldn’t mind.
Sammy gave me a beaming smile. “You’re a legend.”
“I don’t know about that.” I dug into my coat pocket, pulled out a twenty, and held it out. “Get yourself something hot to eat.”
Sammy shook his head. “Keep your money. Taking Max is enough.” He stood and rolled his belongings into the sleeping bag, and when he wasn’t looking, I tucked the money into his backpack. He needed the money more than I did.
“Who’s yer man?” Sammy jerked his head toward Keegan, who stood by the car with his arms crossed and legs in a wide stance, looking more like a bodyguard or a nightclub doorman than an event planner.
“No one important.”
“He looks like he thinks he’s important.”
“You’re not wrong.” I laughed and pulled Sammy into a quick hug. “You have my number written down, right? Call me if you need anything, and I mean anything.”
“Thanks a million.”
“Come, Max.” The misshapen dog followed me through the concrete lobby of my apartment building, his overgrown nails clicking with every step. As soon as the wedding was over, I’d take him to a doggy groomer and maybe the vet. I couldn’t do much to help Sammy, but I could make sure his companion was healthy and safe.
“Who was that?” Keegan fell into step beside me.
“A good kid whose parents kicked him out because he’s gay.”
“You serious?”
“Wish I wasn’t.”
My nostrils flared at the reek of stale garbage and at the pungent smell of cooking fish saturating the air.
Rather than take the elevator, which sometimes doubled as a urinal, I picked up Max and ran up three flights of stairs to my floor.
One of the fluorescent strips lighting up the narrow corridor hung by a wire, flickering on and off, and with every step, my heels snagged the frayed nylon filaments of the puce carpet lining the hallway. Showing Keegan where
