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“We’re ignoring you,” Coco tells Leon who nearly cracks a smile.
Following Katja toward the dog kennels, I struggle to stay focused on the job. My mind’s been wandering a lot lately. Mostly, I frequently consider the past and what might have been if I had done things differently.
However, the Thibeaux Mansion isn’t a safe place to allow my mind to wander. These are not well-meaning people, even if Katja is friends with my mother. If I saw or did something wrong, I suspect getting rid of Coco and me would be a mere inconvenience for the Kovak family.
“We have a possible buyer for Thistle,” Katja says as we arrive at the swanky kennels.
The first time Coco saw this place, she flipped out over how the purebred greyhounds had a nicer home than she did growing up.
“I could have used heated floors during those winters when my parents couldn’t pay the gas bill,” she grumbled afterward.
Over the years, people have commented over how Coco and I seem like an odd match. I always remind them how opposites attract. Coco grew up poor, while I never wanted for anything. She was a girly girl while I was a tomboy. She’s blonde and lean. I’m a curvy redhead.
When walking into a party, Coco’s ready and willing to talk to anyone and try anything. I prefer to sneak in when no one’s looking and hide out in a corner with a tray of hors d'oeuvres and a glass of wine.
Yet, we both love animals and fast speeds. The last one is how we became friends. During a field trip paid for by my mom, I kept wanting to ride a roller coaster. Coco was right there in line with me. We finally got over our differences and waited together. That was twenty years ago, and we’re still friends.
After Coco’s dancing career ended, I hired her as my assistant. She called it a pity move on my part. I didn’t disagree. Coco swore it was temporary until she found a job better suited for her glamorous personality. Three years later, she still checks the job wanted ads during our lunches.
“The problem is so few jobs provide free meals and gourmet coffee,” she explains today after we leave the Kovak estate and stop for chicken wraps. “If more places offered such generous benefits, I’d ditch you and get a better job.”
“I understand. My pity will undoubtedly hold out until you find your unicorn job.”
Coco grins at me while checking her phone. “You’re booked all afternoon. Nothing but spaying and neutering kittens. We really are living the dream.”
I smile at her eye roll. My clinic provides free sterilization for the local shelter. I’m their major donor, too. Yet, I don’t dare step foot into the shelter for fear I’ll walk out with six dogs and a dozen cats.
Most women my age have found love and started building families. My mother was finished with her second husband by thirty-two, but I haven’t even gone on a date in years. As for children, I could do motherhood on my own. Suzanne raised Hunter and me mostly alone. Our rich fathers were mostly summer-break parents.
I nearly walked down the baby path a year ago after my failed attempt to move away from my mom’s estate. I live in a lavish home with twenty-four-hour staff. My job allows for flexible hours. My heart aches for something more. I still chickened out with the baby like I do most things.
The sound of motorcycles draws my gaze to the swanky, north-end deli’s front window. Several members of the local motorcycle club idle at a light. Hunter is tight with women connected to the Backcountry Kings. It’s difficult to live in Banta City without encountering its criminal elements.
Not that it was much different in my father’s small town of Canary Basin. Urick Halvorson had a working relationship with the motorcycle club running the nearby town of McMurdo Valley.
I let myself think of the Steel Berserkers for only a moment before the pain of what might have been kills my good mood.
“Maybe I should have a baby,” I tell Coco when I shut down thoughts of teenaged Austen’s unfulfilled dreams. “What am I waiting for?”
“Your Mister Right,” she says, crossing her lean legs and gaining the interest of a nearby man.
“He isn’t coming,” I grumble as I finish my meal. “Even if he showed up, I’d be too frigid to do anything about it.”
Coco struggles to finish her wrap. After years of watching her weight, she mostly nibbles at meals. Meanwhile, I’m the walking garbage disposal for her unfinished food.
As usual, she pushes what she can’t eat toward me, and I mentally swear I’ll do extra time on the elliptical machine tonight to offset my munching.
“I think you should try dating first,” Coco suggests as she checks her lipstick in a compact. “Tell people you’re thinking about dating again. Everyone will set you up with someone. You know how people love to play matchmaker. Suzanne probably has a dozen men for you to meet. Then, if that doesn’t work out, go the sperm donor route. But why not give love a chance first?”
“I’ve wasted so much time. If I want a kid, I should probably start trying soon.”
“No, you’re just afraid to date.”
“Dating is boring.”
“Because you are used to men drooling over your big boobs, so having them do it on a date is no big deal. Plus, you grew up rich, so you don’t care about free meals. Still, treat it like an interview. You’re looking for a proper baby daddy. Someone who will give your baby good features and will make a suitable husband for three to five years.”
I smile at how she makes a dig at the length of Suzanne’s various marriages. Sighing, I glance around the deli. Many men are on their lunch breaks. Some are attractive. I try to imagine dating them. That part is okay, but when I picture their hands on me, I go cold and tight inside.
