Page 58 of Married With Lies
But it’s not a good idea to dwell for too long on the excellent tits belonging to the wife I’m not allowed to touch. Shifting my gaze to the right, I force myself to consider the view of Sleepy Rock.
Meanwhile, Sadie chatters away while I conduct a silent battle with a boner. “And so we’ll just stop there before we go pick up the order at Burt’s Feed. Unless there’s somewhere else you want to go as well.”
“Stop where?”
“At Gus’s clinic. I just told you that I want her to look at your wound to make sure you’re healing properly.”
Ah, Gus. The disapproving best friend who dresses like every day is a costume party and specializes in throwing withering glares of judgement in my direction.
“I’m healing just fine,” I say. “And she’s a vet.”
But Sadie is already turning into the parking lot of a stand alone brick building with a green roof. A sign on the front says Sleepy Rock Veterinary Clinic.
“Come on, Cale,” she singsongs when I don’t leap out of the truck and run to the front door. “This won’t take long and it won’t hurt a bit.”
“I get the feeling that’s what gets said to Spot before his appointment with a big needle.”
She pats my arm. “Don’t be such a baby.”
“Don’t talk to me like I’m a cocker spaniel.”
She lets out an ‘ugh’ noise and jumps out. My eyes follow her as she marches around the front of the truck, reaches the passenger door and flings it open.
“I’ll drag you if I have to,” she says with a sweet smile.
There’s no chance that girl could drag me an inch. But I exit the truck anyway. The truth is, I owe Sadie a thing or two. If it makes her happy to see me get examined by a vet then I can play along.
Inside the building, the waiting room contains long purple benches. The walls are decorated with large black and white canvas pictures of dogs and cats. The largest of them is a close up shot of Apollo and Zeus.
Sadie approaches the reception desk and murmurs to the young woman wearing turquoise scrubs. The woman cranes her neck to peer at me through thick glasses and then gives Sadie a nod. Sadie says something else and the two of them erupt with giggles. A black poodle, tethered to a rhinestone leash held a bald old man sitting on a bench, cocks its head and wags its nub of a tail.
“I’ll let her know,” the woman says.
Sadie turns to me. “Just take a seat for now. Gus will find a few minutes to see you. And I’ll be back.”
“You’ll be back? Where are you going?”
She stops at the door. “I have a quick errand to run. Don’t panic. That is, unless you really need me to stay here and hold your hand.”
If we weren’t being watched by multiple strangers and a poodle, I might be inspired to fire back with a filthy comment. Instead, I plunk down on one of the purple benches.
“Behave yourself,” Sadie warns. “I have friends here. I’d like to keep them.”
Then she breezes through the door, leaving me to wait for my appointment with the vet. The poodle unrolls its pink tongue and watches me. The old man holding the dog’s leash wheezes some laughter as he scrolls through his phone.
“Daisy,” calls the receptionist. “It’s your turn.”
The old man rises with an audible creak of joints and his dog wiggles with excitement. “Let’s go, Daisy girl,” he says in a gravelly voice.
Daisy trots happily alongside her owner as they disappear through a door. The receptionist returns to her desk and becomes absorbed with her phone. A mounted screen on the wall shows two animated dogs eating a bowl of spaghetti.
With nothing else to do, I pull my own phone from my back pocket and check on the latest news. Back in New York, the Dukes are on a ten game winning streak and one article leads with a photo of Baylor Wingate shaking the hand of the team captain. His forced smile looks painted on. This thought has barely finished registering when I’m startled by the next headline.
Bill Barone, Brother of Billionaire Entrepreneur Albie Barone, Dies in Brooklyn Carjacking.
Naturally, the word ‘entrepreneur’ is fudging the truth a bit. The Barones own multiple shipping companies but I’ve heard their real bread and butter comes from illegal imports. In any case, they are Cosa Nostra originals going back a hundred years, which is one reason why Richie was intent on marrying me off to a Barone daughter.
Although I’ve got a healing hole in my side to prove that random shit happens, it’s unlikely that Bill Barone was snuffed out by a random carjacker. The Barones don’t even go out for coffee without deep backup. Albie Barone has already survived two hit attempts.