Unlike some people, I only got official number privileges. Not like Sam had any success. Adrian kept postponing their meeting plans, citing work, and refused to reply to texts because he ‘isn’t a texter’. What does that even mean? Can’t you type out words?
There's silence on the other end. Then his voice comes back on. “Sorry, I have a meeting in five minutes. Look, if there’s an issue, you can call me, and we’ll figure it out.”
“Wait, don’t you have a dog?” I remember seeing a picture of a golden retriever on his phone’s screensaver.
“Yes, Minka. Why?” His voice sounds suspicious.
“That’s such a cute name.”What?It was. “You should bring her over to the park. She’d love it. We have a talent show thatI’m sure she’d be great in.” A guy like Adrian doesn’t get a dog without teaching them the coolest tricks.
There’s silence again. “She does like to balance treats on her nose.” His voice is contemplative.
“Of course, she does. The talent show is the first thing scheduled for the day.” At least, now it is. “I’ll see you at the park at eight.” I disconnect before he can rethink.
Pulling up Sam’s text chain, I send him an update. Not to brag or anything. Just to show the little guy how things are done around here.
Me: Adrian coming to the event. See, that’s what happens when you let the pros do their job.
He responds right away.
Sam: Don’t be tacky, El. We’re a team. Now, I need to go shopping to dazzle our little nepo psycho.
I roll my eyes. As long as he has the tracker, he can have his pick of the devil's offspring for all I care. Besides…
Me: It’s not embarrassing to give up while you’re ahead. The guy is clearly not interested.
Sam: **angry face**
Sam: You’re clearly blind if you didn’t see his tongue rolling out on your filthy floor.
I think the man is exaggerating by a few light-years. But hey, he was right about Nicholas, so maybe he’s onto something. Or he has an over-elevated sense of ego. Either way, the idea of being surrounded by hundreds of people for an entire day doesn’t sound so annoying anymore.
Now I have a purpose that’ll keep me occupied while I answer pet owners’ stupid questions. Prying the door off that sealed vault open before Sam puts himself into more danger.
***
The talent show was a hit. Enough to get people streaming into the park early on a Saturday morning. It helps that the weather has decided to cooperate for once, warm without the sun trying to suck the life out of humans.
It also helped that there’s a pen full of adorable puppies waiting at the entrance, luring unsuspecting joggers and casual walkers into the event. By nine a.m., the footfall is far more than we’d expected. Bright pop-up tents dot the grass, and people have gathered around the makeshift stage where dog owners proudly present their dogs’ talents.
I sit in the corner in a tent that’s temporarily my exam room. There’s a line of people and a range of animals waiting for their turn for the check-up. The place is loud with applause, barking, excited chatter, and a horde of animal noises. Somewhere across the field, one particularly obnoxious bird has taken upon itself to keep the excitement up.
None of it bothers me. We worked hard on this. Every detail, every movement was intricately curated by me. And now that it’s happening, I can finally bask in the glory of hosting a successful event.
Also, Adrian showed up sharp at eight with his golden retriever in tow, with a bow on her neck. It was adorable, and now I can hound him with questions all day, as long as I can find ways to keep him here. Sam is out there somewhere with him now, waiting for Minka’s turn to show her balancing trick.
The next few hours go by in a blur of fur babies, some non-fur babies, and many nasty pet owners.
“You’re awfully chirpy today?” Ashley comments once the crowd has started to thin out.
I put the stethoscope back in the container. “It’s a nice day, and the event is successful. What do I have to complain about?”
She tilts her head. “You always manage to find something, so this is, you know, surprising.”
I hum. “The day is still young. You’re going to be close by. Give me a couple of hours.”
“Couple of more hours of un-grumpy Elliot. A truly rare sight,” she says.
I roll my eyes. “Weren’t you going out to get coffee?” Isnap.
