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I sigh before leading the way and sitting down on the bench, pulling Chase’s shirt under my bare ass enough that I’m not going to get any splinters in a delicate place.
Benji reluctantly follows, jumping up on the bench beside me and settling to sitting.
I pet at his head as I figure out how to work my way toward the good news. “Listen, I know you’re mad at me. I get that. You should be mad at me. But you’re my best buddy, and I can’t allow this fight to go on. I need you in my corner. I don’t know what I’d do without you other than go crazy. Because I know I can be self-centered and in my head sometimes, and I know that’s not fair to you.”
I sigh, and Benji looks confused. I don’t blame him, with as much sense as I’m making. But I can’t help it. My thoughts are all jumbled.
Maybe it’s best if I just get to the point.
“So yeah. You remember that day we were in the park and I was kind of in my head and we lost the girl of your dreams?” I ask him.
He doesn’t nod, but I’m pretty sure he gets me.
“Well, I’ve been trying to make that up to you while we’ve been touring, and I’ve been searching for her and her owner. And well…I found them. Or someone on Facebook found them. Whatever. The point is, when we get back to New York, I’ve arranged for us to get together with them, and you can have a date!”
Benji’s tail wags as he jumps up and paws at my shoulder before licking me on the face. I don’t know for sure, but I think he’s excited.
Chase comes out the door and down the steps, but when he spies the scene between us, offers nothing more than a smile and a wink before going about the business of packing in the camper to get it ready for the road.
I still can’t believe the man is this observant—so much that he’d recognize a special moment between me and my dog enough not to interrupt it—but I’m grateful, nonetheless.
Right then, I start thinking of ways to pay him back for the next few days while we’re driving. It’s going to be a long time on the road, and he’s going to spend a lot of time at the wheel. The least I can do is make sure he’s as entertained as humanly possible.
Brooke
As Chase pulls the bus into the first stop of the night—Albuquerque, New Mexico—I climb onto the bed in the bedroom and twist my legs into the criss-cross-applesauce position. Benji takes a spot beside me, lying down and closing his eyes with a groan.
I can’t blame him. It’s been a long day.
Eleven hours of driving and countless entertainment bits, and Benji and I are just about spent. After making up this morning, Benj and I teamed up to do a variety show of sorts while Chase drove.
We donned costumes and I painted my face with seven different kinds of makeup, and I sang an entire Shania Twain album at the top of my lungs.
The finale, though, well, that was where I really took it to the edge, turning myself into my girl Dolly with the shiniest outfit, biggest hair, and most pushed-up boobs I could manage by using three of my bras on top of one another.
I know Chase is exhausted too, but as a certified recluse, I’m not used to using this much of my social tank in one go.
If I’m going to have any hope of impressing him in the bedroom tonight—which is, of course, my highest of priorities—I’m going to need to get refreshed, and to get refreshed right quick.
When I spy the goodie bag from the premiere party last night on the nightstand, I drag it onto the bed and start pulling stuff out.
There’s some candy and merch for the show and a designer change purse, but the stack of beauty products at the bottom puts a twinkle in my eye.
I never spend the money on this stuff myself because I’m usually home alone, but just the look of the products in the packaging is giving me a tingle of excitement that only free beauty products can.
Scouring through each thing carefully, I pull out the coolest-looking item in the bag. “Vandalay Fusion Face Cleaner,” I read aloud, flipping over the packaging to the side to see what it does.
“T-sonic pulsations that lift away dirt, oil, and dead skin cells,” I read, summarizing as I go. “Firming massage with silicone touch points for a hygienic experience and a shrewd design that you don’t have to replace. Made in Finland.”
“Perfect!” I squeal in delight. “Those Finnish are all so beautiful. Surely they’ve got to know what they’re doing in the beauty industry.” Given the fact that I’ve been very stupidly sleeping in my makeup most nights on this trip, I’m willing to bet my skin needs a good scrubbing. And just like her influence, Dolly’s makeup is tricky to get rid of.
