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A cold nose between my thighs distracts me from the lines of code scrolling across my screen. Max, my rescued pit bull, pokes his nose against my thigh again, trying to get my attention. “Hey buddy, time to go out?” Pushing back from my desk, I close my laptop as I stand. Max’s nails tap out a happy rhythm on the hardwood floor as he dashes to wait for me by the door. I grab his ball and leash so we can enjoy the late afternoon sunshine.
After a stop at the coffee shop on the corner for an iced latte, Max and I head to the dog park a few blocks from home. I turn on an audiobook as I toss the ball over and over for him, tuning out the crowd of people taking advantage of the sunny afternoon. This is my favorite time of day—just me and Max. No decisions to make, no one asking my opinion on anything.
Max comes bounding up to me, slobbery ball in his jaws, his lips stretched back in a doggy grin, when someone collides into my back, knocking the almost empty coffee cup from my hand.
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” a teenage girl is saying as I turn around. “Are you okay? Shit, I spilled your drink. I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.” She keeps wringing her hands and apologizing profusely.
She stops to take a breath and I seize the opportunity. “It’s fine, really. I was finished anyways. Are you ok?” I look her over. She’s almost as tall as I am. At just over six feet, I only have a few inches on her. I can’t tell how old she is, teenage girls are not something I have a lot of experience with, but I’d wager she’s in high school.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just looking for Max.” She looks around, eyes never staying in one place.
“Max? Why are you looking for my dog?” I ask, confused.
“Huh? No, I’m not looking for your dog.”
“You just said you were looking for Max. Is your dog’s name Max too?” I point to my dopey guy who’s busy rolling in the grass, his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth. “That’s my Max.”
“Oh. No, I’m looking for my cat.” The girl’s eyes dart around the enclosed space. “Have you seen a cat? He’s kinda mangy looking, only has one eye and one ear?”
Sounds like a real looker. “Um, no. I haven’t seen a cat. You know this is a dog park, right?”
She rolls her eyes. “Yes, I realize it’s a dog park. We were making a TikTok and some dog barked at Max and he took off.”
“Do you need help looking?” I offer, even though I’m sure it’s not a good idea for me to be seen hanging out with a teenager in a very public place. Mailbox is already under scrutiny for that stupid blog post—I don’t need to add a scandal.
“I’m okay. My friends are looking too. Are you sure you don’t want me to replace your drink? I think I have some quarters left…”
I shake my head.
“If you happen to see him, just give me a shout.” And with that she takes off at a jog, eyes peering around the park. My Max comes galloping up to me, drool flying.
“Where’s your ball, buddy?” I reach down to scratch his ears. “Let’s go look for it, huh?”
I walk back in the last direction I tossed it, eyes peeled for the bright yellow, slobbery sphere. This corner of the dog park is home to a stand of big leaf maples, branches heavy with greenery this time of year. Max and I wander into the shade of the trees, enjoying the respite from the heat. I squat down, my back against one of the thick trunks, taking a moment to enjoy the fresh air and quiet under the canopy of leaves. I don’t often find this kind of peace outside my own home.
Growing up in the shadow of my famous sister, child-star-turned-Hollywood-Darling, our home was always filled with some kind of drama. Especially when our success-obsessed mother, and Casey’s agent, manufactured a huge scandal that dominated the headlines of every gossip magazine for years. All I wanted to do was escape the world of Hollywood. I did so by graduating high school early and becoming an emancipated minor at the same time Casey cut ties with our mother. I ran away to college while Casey did her own thing in Los Angeles. Casey’s been my only family ever since.
I stumbled into success just before my college graduation, the file-sharing program I wrote for my senior project thrusting me into a leadership role I wasn’t prepared for. At twenty, I could barely remember to pay my phone bill on time, let alone be responsible for managing a team of programmers and millions of dollars of venture capital investment. But that was exactly what happened. I’d graduated from MIT and two days later sat down with Morgan Edwards, one of Silicon Valley’s slickest venture capitalists, and walked out with a handshake and the promise of ten million dollars to start up Mailbox, Inc.
I’d made mistakes early on—hiring friends instead of qualified candidates, not meeting deadlines, falling for girls that only wanted me for my wallet, forgetting to show up to important meetings—until Morgan took me firmly in hand. Morgan Edwards doesn’t give money away. If he invests in you, he expects to be repaid with a perfect product. In this case, Mailbox wasn’t the only product—I was too. I learned the hard way to leave my happy-go-lucky nature at home when I went to the office. Ten years of practice at being “the grumpy boss” and everyone at the office is terrified of me—exactly how I need it.
A rustling overhead distracts me from the solitude. Max gives a curious, “woof,” and rolls to his feet, nose pointed up. A cat is perched on the branch above my head. He’s peering at me through one eye, his lone ear laid back flat against his skull. He’s an ugly mottled gray and brown color with white feet. It must be the blonde teenager’s Max.
“Max?” I whisper to the cat. He hisses at me and tries to back up on the tree branch. “Come here buddy, I won’t hurt you.” I stretch my arms towards him, my Max bumping up against my knees. Thankfully the branch isn’t that high and I can reach him. I manage to get one hand on his back before he scrambles away, catching a claw in the fleshy web between my thumb and pointer finger.
“Ow!” I pull my hand back to see a deep cut through the delicate skin, blood already pooling. Damn, that hurt. “Stupid cat.” The blood threatens to drip down my hand, but I have a napkin tucked in my pocket from the coffee shop. I pull it out and wrap it around the scratch, squeezing tight while I eye the cat still stuck in the tree. “Maxy boy, I think we should leave Killer up there and see if we can find that girl instead.”
I step out from under the tree, trusting my Max to follow me, and scan the park. I spot her blonde hair shining in the sun, in furious conversation with another girl and a boy. I open my mouth to call her when I realize I don’t know her name. Shouting “hey girl,” across the park is not a good look. Instead, I jog over to the trio, hoping that the cat doesn’t figure out how to get down from the tree on his own.
“Hey, I think I found your cat.” I point to the stand of trees I was just under. My Max is dancing around the base of the tree, not barking, just interested.
“You saw him?” She turns hopeful eyes on me, shushing the other two teens.
I raise my hand up for her to see. “I tried to get him down but he didn’t seem to like me very much.”
She takes off towards the trees, her friends trailing in her wake. I follow at a distance, mostly to make sure my Max doesn’t interfere.
“Max!” I call, patting my leg. “Let’s go!” He walks over to me, stopping to look back at the commotion a few times. I reach down to rub his head. “Good boy.” I can’t decide if I should leave or stay. Standing here watching them makes me feel like a creepy old man, but I don’t want to just walk away. Somehow, I feel responsible for the plight of Max the cat and his owner. I hover, undecided, until Max jumps up, planting his paws on my chest.
