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“That’s exactly what happened this morning when the little girl I watch tried to give him a treat. Usually when anyone comes into the house, he squawks and says a few words. But he didn’t say anything when I arrived this morning, and he didn’t take his morning treat. So I went back to the apartment after I dropped Hailey at school, just to check on him, and I found him sitting at the bottom of his cage sort of hunched over, instead of on his perch, and his feathers seem kind of…puffy.”
“Ah. Yes. Puffy feathers are often the first sign of illness. Birds tend to puff up when they’re cold, but if the temperature is fine, that’s often a symptom, as is irregular posture and changing positions.” He nodded. “Good observations on your part.”
Dr. Gottlieb stroked Huey’s feathers. “He seems pretty calm right now, so I’m going to give him an examination and draw some blood, if that’s alright.”
“Sure. Of course. Whatever you need to do.” Make the bill nice and big for the asshole who was too busy to talk about this poor little boy.
I watched while the doc checked Huey out and drew some blood from a vein in his wing. When he was done, he said it would take a little while for the results, and I should go take a seat in the waiting room. He kept Huey in the back, just in case there was anything wrong with him that might be transmittable to humans or pets.
I took a seat across from an older woman with a dog on her lap. I couldn’t help but notice how much she and her poodle looked alike—frizzy white hair, thin faces, long noses. To keep myself from staring, I rummaged through a pile of magazines on the end table next to me and plucked out a Cosmo—though I couldn’t help but steal glances as I flipped through the pages. Toward the middle of the magazine, I stumbled on one of those reader quizzes. This one was titled: What type of man is most attracted to you?
I scoffed. I knew the answer to that one without any questions. The asshole kind. Yet I started to take the quiz anyway.
Question one—When men compliment you on your looks, which word do they use most?
The choices were A. Gorgeous, B. Sexy, C. Beautiful, and D. Hot.
Hmmm. I’d have to say B.
Question two—What are you most complimented on by men?
The choices were A. Your face, B. Your legs, C. Your smile, and D. Your personality.
Considering rack wasn’t an answer, I circled A.
Question three—How would you describe your personality?
The choices were A. Outgoing, B. Shy, C. Funny, and D. Witty.
I was just about to circle A when a deep voice spoke from over my shoulder. “Is there an E for bossy bitch?”
Startled, my knee-jerk reaction was to toss the magazine at the sound, which resulted in my hitting the speaker square in the face.
“What the hell?” Hollis growled.
“It’s your own fault. Don’t sneak up on me like that. You’re lucky I didn’t take you down.”
Hollis’s face went from angry to amused. “Take me down?”
“Yes. I know self-defense.”
He chuckled. “I’m two hundred pounds. You’re not going to take me down, sweetheart. Even if you do know self-defense.”
“You’re an ass, you know that?”
“So I’ve been told. Now where’s my pain-in-the-ass bird?”
“Huey is in the back. I’m waiting for the lab results.”
Hollis walked around and planted himself in the chair next to me. “How long is this going to take?”
“I don’t know. But you didn’t have to come. I could handle it on my own.”
“Really? So why did you call me?”
“To let you know I thought your bird was sick, and because I needed medical information. But obviously, you didn’t give a shit.”
“I was in a meeting.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “You were rude to me on the phone. Both times.”
Hollis ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “The bird is a perpetual thorn in my side.”
“What the heck did he ever do to you? I know, I know—he says your ex’s name whenever you walk in. Big whoop-de-do. Get over it.”
He scowled. “He cost me eighteen grand, for starters.”
My brows jumped. “You paid eighteen grand for him?”
“No.” His jaw flexed. “Forget it.”
“Uh, no way, Hollsy. I want to know what your issue is with Huey. He’s such a sweet boy.”
Hollis looked away and stared out the front window for a while, then cleared his throat. “I apologize if I was rude on the phone. Some big stocks took a nosedive this morning, and I hadn’t been as on top of my team as I should’ve been, so we took a big hit.”
“What is it you do, exactly? I mean, other than bark at people?”
“I’m a wealth fund manager.”
“Oh.” I nodded my head like he’d cleared up some confusion. Then I smiled. “I have no idea what that means. But it sounds awful.”
