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She holds her hands up in surrender. “Fine.Youclose then. I’m going upstairs to putmyfeet up.” She calls Fifi to her.
“Leave her. She needs to go for a walk. I’ll take her when I lock up.”
Tru scoops the dog up. Her eyes are glittering, but she’s honed her Park Avenue persona well, lifting a haughty chin in my direction. “I believe I can manage walking my own dog.”
I can’t tell her that I don’t want her outside in the dark by herself. But, shit, I don’t want her outside in the dark by herself.
She leaves, not giving me the satisfaction of a backward glance, and Leo and Dixie are staring at me like they’re embarrassed they witnessed our fight. “It’s nothing,” I tell them.
They look at each other, the kind of couple that can communicate without using words. “We should get going.”
“You can stay. Finish your game.”
“I think we’ll just go.”
I think I am fucked.
Why did I start an argument with her? I look at the offending bar mirror and shake my head. My dad is going to love it. The patrons will love it. If I had found it, I would love it. But no, I had to make her feel bad for no reason other than I don’t want her to be comfortable here in my world when she has made me feel so out of place in it.
Tru
AWOMAN WALKS INTOa bar with a dog sounds like the beginning of a joke or a repeat of my not-so-distant past, but this time the woman is Stella and the dog is definitely not well-groomed or in a Louis Vuitton carrier.
He’s some kind of terrier. Probably. Black and white and grizzled. His tongue lolls out and his eyes look a little deranged. But when she puts him on the floor, he and Fifi are instantly smitten with each other. Sniffing and tail wagging commence immediately.
“No,” Nash says. Which is one word more than he’s said to me this morning. He did manage a gruff “I’m sorry” last night. He didn’t elaborate, so I’m not sure what he’s sorry for. Getting upset about rock memorabilia? Being rude to me? Avoiding me since we had sex? Maybe he’s sorry we had sex at all. That’s probably likely.
Which is a shame. I’d like to test some more of my non-frigid boundaries, but apparently, he’s taken it upon himself to decide that I can’t handle the intricacies of a no-strings affair. He also doesn’t realize that he’s the one having a hard time with it, not me. I’m not interested in a relationship. I’ve learned my lesson about relying on a man and am not keen about getting put in that position again. Passion—that’s different. I’d love to explore that some more. Eradicate the old me completely.
“Take that dog right back from wherever you got him from.”
Stella pouts, then remembers it’s Nash and pouting doesn’t work on him. “Please, Nash. His name is Bo and he’s a really nice boy. I had to go pick him up from death row at a shelter in the city today. He’s meant to be yours.”
“I don’t want a dog.” All three of us look at Fifi who finished sniffing Bo and is now sitting on Nash’s foot proprietarily.
Stella ignores the obvious. “I did a reading last night and used the pendulum this morning. Bo is meant to be with you. The cards and the pendulum agree. Please.”
