Parker
It’s nearly closing time when I get a text from Lukas.
Lukas: Hey Freckles. I’ve got a tow job. Going to be late. You’ve got my garage code, use it!
It’s a nice thought, but I need to pick up some shop paperwork from my place and I’d like to check on Cujo and bring him a treat.
Me: Text me when you’re done. I’m going to run home for a bit.
Lukas:I’d rather come home to you naked in my bed…
Me: You do still have my panties. Text me when you’re almost done and maybe you’ll get your wish…
Lukas: You’re just torturing me now.
Me: I’d argue that I’m being a very good girl. If you disagree, you could always spank me later.
Lukas:Goddammit. How am I supposed to leave my desk when you write things like that? I can’t think straight, let alone drive.
Me: Sorry! Go focus. Try not to think about my panties in your pocket.
All I get back in reply is a series of high-five hands, but I’m pretty sure those are meant to be promised spankings and a little shiver of excitement runs through me. It’s going to kill me to wait for him.
Cujo is overjoyed to see me, gratefully takes the potato chips I saved him, crunching on the whole handful loudly. I scratch behind his ears and he stares into my soul as I tell him about my day, leaving out the dirty parts, obviously. He follows me along the fence line as I head to my bungalow, whining as I step inside.
“I’ll bring you some peanut butter later,” I promise. “I’ve gotta catch up on work.” He just sits and cocks his head to the side. I don’t think he caught anything besides “peanut butter.”
I’m lying on my stomach in my loft bed an hour later, trying to decide which books to add to my inventory. I’ve read through so many book descriptions that my eyes are starting to cross when I hear shouting outside. This may not be the greatest neighborhood, but at least it’s usually quiet. I can’t resist a little drama though, so I close my laptop and climb down the narrow ladder.
When I crack my bungalow door, the shouting gets louder and I hear something whining. My heart clenches as I realize it’s coming from right next door.
Cujo.
Flinging open the door and stepping outside I see my next-door neighbor standing over Cujo. The potbellied, sweat-stained man sounds drunk, slurring as he screams at a cowering, whimpering dog.
Physically I’m no match for that asshole and confronting him would be beyond stupid. I need help. Running to grab my phone, I tap through to Lukas’ number as fast as I can, my hands shaking. He answers on the second ring. Thank god, he’s good about keeping his phone nearby.
“Hey Freckles, I was just—”
“I need you here now,” I interrupt.
“Address,” he replies shortly.
I give him my landlord’s address and tell him about the neighbor, relief washing over me as I hear his motorcycle rev in the background.
“I’m coming,” he says. “I’m five minutes away, but I can’t talk to you on the bike. Call the police,” he says before hanging up.
I look at my phone, but my hands won’t stop shaking. I’m trying to calm down and focus, but the yelling and whining are making my heart race. I’m no use in a situation like this. Too small and non-threatening to be intimidating and too panicked to be levelheaded. All I can think about is Cujo and how scared he must be right now.
I’m dialing 9-1-1 when I hear a yelp from Cujo, and my mind goes blank. Before I’m really even aware of what I’m doing, I’m yanking open the chain-link gate to the neighbor’s property, red clouding the edges of my vision.
“Don’t you fucking touch him!” I scream. The rocky dirt is tearing at the bottom of my bare feet and it just makes me angrier. Poor Cujo, this is how he lives every day. Rocks and dirt and this shitty yard and this shitty man are all he has.
The man sways on his feet as he looks up at me. Surprise flashes in his little piggy eyes before he squints and starts shaking a finger at me. Cujo is curled up at his feet trying to escape, but the man has him cornered against the house.
“Get your fat ass off my property,” he says with a sneer, but I don’t stop. He smells like B.O. and stale beer, and there’s sweat dripping down his bald head. The anger twisting his face really puts him over the top, though. He is without a doubt the most disgusting man I have ever laid eyes on. It’s all I can do not to gag when I look at him.
“No!” I retort. “You get your fat ass away from Cujo!” I know I should keep my distance. I know it’s stupid to get this close, but I will not let him hurt Cujo and if I have to put my body between them, I fucking will.