The clatter of Franky’s nails on the tile floor forced her to stop taking stock of the place. She dropped to her knees. “Hey, Franky. How are you doing, sweetheart?” Franky pressed the side of her body into Charlie’s torso, and Charlie could feel her slight tremble. “Aw, poor baby. Are you afraid of the thunder?”
Just then, a crack of thunder reverberated the unit, and it felt like the whole place shook. Franky started to shake violently, and she whined. “Harper wasn’t kidding, was she? Let’s see if we can find that medicine, huh?”
She rummaged around in the incredibly organized cabinets, feeling a little guilty, as though she was snooping, but being unable to remember which one Harper had said, she didn’t have a choice. Finally, in the last upper cabinet, she found the small pill bottle and a bag of pill pocket treats. “I’m not sure how long these take before you’ll feel the effect, but I think I should give you one now and then take you out, okay?”
Franky was pressed against her leg again and didn’t respond, but Charlie was pretty confident of her decision. With Franky leashed up and heading down the stairs, Charlie realized she wasn’t sure how far Harper normally took her, but with the ominous rumbling, she didn’t think they’d be going far, and she was right. Franky seemed determined to take the shortest walk possible, if she could even call it that. She sniffed around for approximately thirty seconds, peed, and was dragging Charlie back to the stairs, all without leaving the little gravel area behind the building.
Fine by Charlie. She didn’t want to get soaked. But just before she placed her foot on the first step, the skies opened up as though the heavens were trying to take Noah’s ark from dry dock to floating without a crane. “Motherfucker,” she said as she sprinted up the steps and into Harper’s house.
She knew it could have been worse, but the damn rain couldn’t have waited another twenty seconds? “Does Harperhave a towel for you, girl?”
Franky, again, wasn’t helpful, but Charlie didn’t want to put her thunder coat thing on while she was wet, so she ventured farther into Harper’s personal space. She was again struck by the lack of character. It wasn’t like the place was ugly. She had nice enough furniture, but there weren’t any personal pictures or mementos.
It felt like…Charlie’s place. She laughed at herself for feeling a little judgmental when her place was colder than this. But it wasn’t about that. It was just strange. Where was the evidence that Harper had lived for forty or so years before moving to Key West?
And Charlie couldn’t help but wonder what about her made Harper think she was a rule follower. She’d never broken the law while doing her job—well, not until possibly at the end, when she’d taken the payout and walked away anyway—but there’d always been an air of “the rules don’t apply to us” around the office. Like they were so damn good at their jobs that the normal rules of the market didn’t apply because they could make money in every market condition.
But later, the mentality around the office, the toxic swagger of superiority, had made her nauseated. Because clearly, some people truly believed that the rules of law didn’t apply to them, and it had cost her her job. Fucking pricks.
A new crack of thunder thankfully brought her back to the moment. and Franky’s yelp spurred her to grab a towel off the shelf in Harper’s bathroom and rush back to the living room.
“I’m sorry, little girl,” Charlie said as she squatted and dried her off with vigor. “Now, let’s get you in that jacket, huh?”
Putting the coat on Franky was surprisingly easy, but looking at her scared eyes, Charlie couldn’t bring herself to leave her alone with the storm still raging outside. “Franky girl, how do you feel about running next door with me so I can change? We’llonly be a minute, and then I’ll snuggle with you on the couch, okay?”
She hated how quickly she’d gone from having a great day to feeling sullied by the taint of her former job. She’d been working so hard to put the past behind her and move on. She needed to keep that shit where it belonged because it wasn’t who she was. It wasn’t a part of the life she was making for herself anymore. She didn’t yet know what that life would ultimately look like, but neither D. B. Graves nor Wall Street would have any part of it. She hadn’t touched a penny of the blood money they’d wired to her, and she had no intention of doing so. Other than maybe donating it. That would probably be cathartic and might help her rehabilitate her karma.
It was after three in the morning when Harper slipped back into her apartment completely exhausted and nearly tripped when she stumbled upon the most adorable sight.
The thunderstorm had passed several hours ago, so she’d expected Charlie to have gone home, if she’d even stayed after giving Franky her meds. Instead, she was curled up on Harper’s couch with Franky lying on top of her, head on Charlie’s shoulder and Harper’s throw blanket across both of them.
Harper froze, unsure what to do. She could let Charlie sleep there, but she feared Charlie’s back might never be the same after lying on the uncomfortable couch with an eighty-pound dog on her all night. Yet, she hated to disturb her while she was sleeping so peacefully.
Her insides felt like they were turning to mush seeing what good care Charlie had taken of Franky. She’d never in a million years expected Charlie to snuggle with Franky to comfort her allevening.
She filled a glass with cool water from the pitcher in her fridge and guzzled it while she decided how to handle this situation. She finally decided that she had to at least try to wake her up, so she stood a few feet away and softly said, “Charlie.” A testament to the trazadone’s effects, Franky didn’t stir, but unfortunately, neither did Charlie.
Harper said her name louder a few times but nothing. Shit. Should she just leave her?
Fear gripped her heart as feelings of protectiveness toward both of them bubbled, and she almost went to bed to avoid the situation entirely, but she’d slept on that couch a handful of times herself, and she’d barely been able to walk the next day. Maybe Charlie’s back wasn’t like hers, but if it was…
She sat on the coffee table and gently touched Charlie’s arm as she said her name again. This time, Charlie’s eyes fluttered half-open.
“Wha?” she said, her voice rough and hoarse. “Harper?”
“Hey, sleepyhead,” Harper said.
“Am I in the hospital? Why can’t I move? Am I paralyzed?” Her eyes flew open, and panic crossed her face.
“No, you’re on my couch. Franky is on top of you, which is why you can’t move.” If Harper thought she’d been mushy inside before, watching Charlie’s arm tighten around Franky had her bones melting. How was she going to stand after this?
Charlie let out a long breath, and Harper could see the tension drain away. “Oh, right. She was so afraid of the storm, but this seemed to settle her down.” She gestured with the arm not pinned beneath Franky.
“She’s a cuddler, for sure.” Harper couldn’t believe Charlie had chosen to let Franky climb on top of her and stay there. “You’re welcome to stay here if you want, but the few times I’ve slept on this couch, my back hated me.” She shrugged.
Charlie shifted on the couch as if taking stock of her back and muscles. “I should probably get up. I am a little tight. But how do we get her to move?”
“First, we wake her up, and then, I get her a treat so she thinks moving is her idea. And then, we hope she doesn’t do permanent damage to any of your internal organs when she jumps down.”
