“You’re welcome. If you have any questions or concerns, please don’t hesitate to call.” I grab the stuff, and we head out the door. Forest would get a kick out of the shit Hendrix is pulling. He’d say I’m meeting my match, her giving me as much hell as she has. That that’s what you get after years of staying single, living the bachelor life. It didn’t seem like long ago he met Krissy, fresh out of college. Both of them were more worried about starting their career than having children. Then Krissy became pregnant. Cammy was the best thing in Forest’s eyes besides his job and wife. But the writing was on the wall even back then. At first, Mom thought it was postpartum depression or the fact that her parents weren’t around to help her through all the changes, having come from the system herself, so we all gave her time. One thing led to another. Mom helped as much as she could until Krissy came around, which she did about the time Cammy was able to attend daycare a few hours a day. Neither of them wanted Cammy to be an only child. I think Forest thought another baby would mend their lives. It didn’t, clearly, if Krissy is talking about divorce and out of town more than she is home.
“Alright, Coop, looks like it’s going to be you and me for a few days. No hiking and no jumping. That includes into the truck.” I was able to swap vehicles. The Escalade isn’t lifted like the Bronco, but I’ll still have to lift him up.
I hit the unlock button, and Cooper starts to get excited. “Calm down, buddy,” I say softly, holding him back from lunging into the back seat. As soon as he realizes I’m not letting him in the vehicle by himself, he simmers down. This is probably the calmest he’s been since I rescued him. Not saying that getting his balls taken out has made him relax already, but that doesn’t stop me from hoping it helped either. I lift him up, under his belly, making sure not to hurt the big fella, and get him situated in the back seat on the blankets I put down in case anything happens as well as give Coop some comfort away from the leather seat, too.
“Let’s head home.” I pat his head, trying not to laugh as he places his head on his two front paws as he lies down. Between the cone and getting a vasectomy, he’s whooped. I just hope Coop stays that way, so maybe I can get a nap in myself.
ELEVEN
Hendrix
I havethe best girl tribe ever, seriously. Journey knew that I wouldn’t leave Jolene this week while she recovers, needing to stay as calm as possible, and while she doesn’t have the big plastic thing around her neck because I’m a nut job and a half and bought an inflatable doughnut instead, I still won’t leave her with the dog sitter or dog walker, not yet at least. It’s only been forty-eight hours since her surgery, and don’t get me started on how I had to sleep in my empty house alone without my four-legged friend. I called my mom crying. She told me the story about when I stayed overnight with Nanny the first time. She bawled her eyes out, and of course, Mom put the dig in that I was a human, not a furry critter, as a joke, reminding me once again not to have a child because she’d probably want to strangle me.
That leads me here, where Journey, Celeste, and Tyra are currently sitting in my living room in the middle of the weekday. Each of us has gone through something or the other that calls for a day like this. Mine is because of a certain man named Madden, who had the audacity to pay for Jolene’s vet bill, like I couldn’t afford it or something.
“I get that you’re an independent woman, but maybe he really was trying to apologize,” Celeste states, taking a sip of her drink. My place is small. The girls are sitting on the couch and chair. I chose to sit on the floor, using the coffee table to prop my elbows up.
“A seven-hundred-dollar apology is a lot. This only makes me feel indebted to him,” I reply.
“And him getting you off, or almost getting you off, let me say, doesn’t either?” Journey lays it down for me. God, I should have never ever admitted to that happening. She’s not going to let me live it down.
“Maybe, but I mean, I stopped it before it started. How am I supposed to say thanks but no thanks to a vet bill? Find out where he lives and mail him a seven-hundred-dollar check? Well, it’d have to be cash, seeing how no one uses the paper product anymore, and then I’d have to hand-deliver that. We all know how unimpressive the mail delivery service is these days,” I ramble on.
“You have his number. Venmo, duh,” Tyra interjects, always thinking around my dramatic ways.
“That’s true, though I really didn’t want that either, but it was written on the receipt, and the lady at the vet clinic wouldn’t take no for an answer. I swear she had stars in her eyes, like it was a Madden and Hendrix love affair.” Jolene’s head is on my lap, body lying out the length of the area rug, my hand lazily running through her fur. She was pretty chill before the surgery. Now she’s even more so. I mean, even when I take her out back in my little fenced-in yard, all she wants to do is go potty and come right back in, not even attempting to bask in the sun like she usually would.
“I’ll be back. I need to use the bathroom,” Journey says, getting up from her place. I raise my hand telling her to go on. My place is a one-bedroom, one-bathroom one-story rental. The selling part of this place was the small backyard and the garage to park your car, an absolute necessity with the Nevada heat.
“Seriously, I think you should call him. At least to say thank you,” Tyra says, God, I love that she and Mace got the happily ever after they deserved. They both had to work through it. I mean, who do you know who gets a divorce and then somehow gets remarried after working through their problems? It’s unheard of.
“Yeah, or I could text him instead, block my number so he can’t continue being a stalker and seeing Madden every time I turn around,” I half joke. If it weren’t ten o’clock in the morning, I’d consider day drinking. Even I have my limits, though.
“Don’t do that. You’ll look like a weirdo,” Celeste responds. I lay my head down on the coffee table, ready to beat it against the marble top. A lot of my furniture is from Celeste’s place. When she moved in with Wylder, she gave me the opportunity to scavenge what she didn’t want. I just so happened to need a few things, and try as I might to pay her, she wouldn’t allow it. And these women claim I’m independent. They’re just as bad as I am. Maybe not with the snark and attitude that I give off, but they have a way about them just as well.
“What do we have here?” Journey comes out of my room, which is where the bathroom is as well. Small house problems, right? I don’t look at first, trying to figure out why Celeste and Tyra are laughing. Even Jolene lifts her head, looking more excited than she has in days.
“Oh, that. Well, I told you the incident that occurred. That was a parting souvenir. Tack it on the list of shit I need to give Madden back,” I pull the lie out of my ass.
“Really? So it was, what? Lying on top of your made bed, near the pillows, looking wrinkled from a night of sleep? You might be fooling yourself, Hendrix, but you’re not fooling us.” I’m seriously taking back being thankful for having a friend and boss like Journey to tell you how it is. She’s throwing me under the bus, putting it in forward, and then backing up all on top of me.
“That doesn’t mean anything.” I huff out a breath. There’s no getting away from this, not at all. Journey can see right through my bullshit, and the other girls can, too.
“Remember when I said you protest too much to not be interested? This is one of those times. You can’t be a bitch to someone in front of their face and then behind their back sleep in their shirt, probably while getting off, too.” Nico has clearly gotten to my friend in talking way more openly about sex.
“And who says I do that?” I play dumb or try to.
“You know I kept Mace’s sweatshirt for the longest time, only wore it on the nights when the yearning was unbearable. Nobody is blaming you, Hendrix. Seriously, we all want to see you happy. To have someone like we do, and honestly, I think this Madden guy may be the one who ticks off all of those boxes you’re adamant about being checked.” Tyra is reminding me of the list I made one day during one of our drunken girls’ nights out.
Must love dogs.
Must have his own money, not mooch off of mine.
Not live with his parents; kind of coincides with rule number two.
He can’t staunch my independence.
Must give as good as he receives in the orgasm department.