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"Figured we'd take Paddy," he said as I made my way out, finding him at the door with my coffee in one hand, and Padfoot's leash in the other."Rush! I swear to all that is holy, if you don't put her down, I am going to start throwing cans of dog food at you. The big, cheap, heavy ones."
"Fine fine fine, Killjoy. She's back in her cage," he told me, making me peek out from behind the aisle cap, wanting to be sure he was honest. Because, well, anyone who would chase you around the store with a tarantula was, in my humble opinion, someone who could not be trusted.
"What are we, ten?" I asked, casting small eyes in his direction as he opened the top of the iguana cage, dropping in some more grasshoppers as well as some veggies.
"You missed out on having siblings. I figured I could give you a taste of it," he offered, smirking.
"Well, if that was just a taste, I am very thankful that my parents were the one-and-done sort."
"Do you miss them?" Rush asked, effortlessly moving to the next cage without me having to ask. Padfoot was settled up near the front door, his stolen bully stick getting a test of endurance.
I moved to the end cap, giving the hermit crabs some fresh water, smiling a little at their hand-painted shells that had been done by a local kindergarten as part of an outreach program I had set up to teach them about pets and proper care when they decided to get a class pet - a little brown and white hamster named Tex.
"Yes. Well, I guess. Would it be horrible to say not as much as you would expect?"
"Nothing you could say is horrible, babes. Figure you must not be close if you never go down for the holidays. And they never come up," he added a bit pointedly.
The Rivers had been close with their mom before she passed. The entire trajectory of their lives was altered afterward. And when their sister Scotti shacked up with a Mallick brother, they had all been adopted into another big, loving, close family. None of them could fathom avoiding one another for the holidays, not being around for all life's ups and downs.
"We're not close. I can go months without hearing from them. They had me really late in life. They won't admit it, but I was a whoopsie. And they had just been... used to their life as it was. So they did their thing, I did my thing. I didn't even know they were moving until after they sold their house."
"That sucks. But you have us now," he added, giving me a somewhat sad smile.
"Yeah, I've been lucky with my friend-family," I agreed.
It was what kept me from falling into a deep depression every Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year, birthday.
Really, the reason I knew what family really meant was because of my friend-family.
"So, you slept with King last night, huh?"
A bag of millet slipped from my fingers on my way to the cockatiel cage, tiny little bits flying across the floor, crunching under my soles as I whipped around, finding Rush standing there, eyes dancing, lips twitching.
"What?"
"Got to the apartment when he was still wiping the dry out of his eyes. And there were no pillows or blankets on the couch. And since there is only one bedroom in the apartment... you obviously slept with King."
"I didn't sleep with King." And my poor, untouched body was painfully aware of the fact. Even hours later, I swear I could still smell him on my skin, could feel his warmth, could hear his steady breathing.
"Why not?"
"What do you mean, why not?" I asked, bending to pick up the lost bag, annoyed at myself for wasting some of it, knowing the store would have no income for who knew how long, and that we therefore couldn't just order new supplies when we were running low.
If it came to it, I guess I had my savings.
"Please, Savea. Come on."
"I don't know what you're talking about," I told him, unlocking the glass door, smiling as the cockatiels sang happily as I filled their bowls with goodies.
"So you're telling me, that you two finally share a bed after all these years, and you, what? Had a pillow border down the middle?"
"Nothing down the middle. Well, Padfoot eventually."
"Paddy isn't allowed to sleep on the bed."
"What?" I asked, spinning, head shaking. "Since when?"
"Since always. His hair gets all over the sheets. It bothers King. He let Paddy in the bed?"
"Well, I guess I did. But he didn't say anything."
"Of course not."
"What is that supposed to mean?" I asked, stiffening.
"Nothing. King just likes when the damsels in distress get what they need."
"I'm not in distress," I objected, a little offended. Though, something within said it had nothing to do with being called something as stereotypical and degrading as a 'damsel in distress,' and more to do with the fact that I was simply being lumped in with countless other women, other nameless, faceless clients. Like everything he was doing for me was just part of his drive, part of his service, and nothing personal whatsoever.
