I grab the pen next to it and write a note.
You were the best kind of surprise. Thank you for the orgasms. May you find the coconut cake of your dreams. And someone who deserves to share it with you.
Xoxo
Chloe
I place it on the bureau next to a key, then leave the room and the most wonderful night I’ve experienced in a long time behind me. Once I exit the hotel, I shield my eyes against the morning sun as I walk to the parking lot where I left my car. It’s not too far and walking is cheaper than taking a Lyft. Along the way, I click open my camera roll from last night and quickly delete Sawyer’s ID pic before I have second thoughts. Before I even look twice at it.
I empty the trash so I don’t break our one-time-only rule.
With that done, I hop over to the group thread with my friends and delete the license pic, not only for me, but for everyone. It’s just better this way. I don’t want to be tempted to google him and daydream about what might be when I’m in a different place in my life. I’m inthisplace, and I need to live in the here and now, not in a fantasy of coconut-cake dreams.
I reach my car and jiggle the handle just so, finding that onelittle spot that lets me open this bag of bones on wheels, then scoot across, bumping my thigh on the console and probably bruising it.
I turn on the car and hit the road.
Back to reality.
8
JUST LIKE POSITIVE
CHLOE
Shortcake sits patiently at the dock like a good boy, smoky-gray tail thumping, eyes fixed on me. I show him the tennis ball in my hand. His tail smacks the slats, but he stays put.
“Now, tell him to fetch like a good boy,” I instruct Veronica, handing her the ball.
With intense focus, she takes the toy and waggles it. “Fetch, like a good boy,” she says, then cannons it into the lake in Darling Springs.
And the Mastiff who knocked me into a lake a month ago? He trots down the deck in a perfect straight line, then jumps off the dock—without knocking anyone kersplat.
“Yay, Shortcake!” I shout when his big head emerges from the water and he paddles over to the ball, bobbing along the surface.
“He’s doing so much better,” Veronica says excitedly. She’s outgoing and friendly, a bit like the character she plays on the show I recognized her from—a bubbly white girl from California.
“Sure is,” I say, proud of the dog—but also his owner.
Because the Mastiff is my new client.
Turns out the rowdy partier from the dog birthday fete is none other than the dog owned by Veronica—yes,thatVeronica, ofLGOfame. The “bad dog,” as she called him when she asked to meet with me. To which I replied, calmly and professionally (and definitely not while screaming internally), no dogs are bad. They just need training.
Apparently, when I left the party, she raced over to Florence and asked who I was so she could apologize, and when she learned I was the dog trainer for Florence’s Corgi mix, that sparked her interest. Veronica hired me the day I returned to Darling Springs, wanting her boy to learn some manners.
And oh boy, is he ever a polite pup now. He walks without ramming into people, he jumps into lakes without mowing down bystanders, and he jogs without pulling ahead.
Since we’ve been working together—at the dog park or at her house since I don’t have a training space—I’ve learned Veronica’s a total delight, genuinely devoted to improving his behavior. I guess when your dog knocks someone into a lake, that’ll motivate you.
Want to know what else I learned this month?
I’m a total fucking pro, because I triedso hardnot to mention theLGOepisode ofUpper East Siderswhere her character waxed on about how you can always tell if a man is good in bed by whether he listens to you when you talk about Mercury rising. If he pays attention? His Mercury will rise right into you exactly the way you want it to, she says.
Nope. I kept my mouth shut about how hard I laughed when that aired earlier this year.
But now that I’m thinking about that episode again, my mind wanders back to that night with Sawyer, when his Mercury rose into me. That man sure seemed to listen. He paid attention as we discussed bad days and ridiculous ideas at the dog park. He read me right when he helped me out of the lake. And later, he definitely listened as we discussed the merits of fries—then competed for the prize of the worst day.
What a prize it was.
