Unfinished Business (27 page)

Nick and Josie step away from the road toward Tony’s car. There isn’t time to explain what’s going on because one of the other birds, a flashy, Old English Bantam has got out of its box and is hopping around the back seat, trying to get the better of the Rhode Island Red that is still fighting with Frankie.

The Araucana is still posturing and showing off.

So far, the Leghorn and whatever else is in the other box are still out of the fray.

There’s a reason why people pay money to see roosters fight. They don’t mess around—with each other or with anything or anybody that gets in their way.

First things first, I reach in and haul Frankie out.

He’s moaning with frustration and I have to hold him back from going after the birds that are hopping out of the car and chasing each other around the grass.

Getting those birds contained is not a job for one eleven-year-old boy. “Go get my mom. Explain what happened.” I spin him around and tell him the quickest route to the pool. He stays frozen, staring at the birds as they challenge each other by bobbing their heads and spreading their wings. I hurry him to the top of the hill, point to the clubhouse and give him a push.

Once he starts racing across the hill, I run back to get my backpack and tell Josie and Nick I have to go do the raffle but stop short when I see Peter.

He’s limping alongside his bicycle—right toward the Old English Bantam. Nick and Josie are darting around the grass, trying to keep the other three birds close to the car, so they don’t see Peter. Even if they did, they probably wouldn’t realize that what he’s doing is really, really stupid.

A rooster who’s flapping his wings and puffing up his chest isn’t to be messed with. Of course Peter doesn’t know that. That must be why he’s swearing and kicking at the bird. Taking one’s frustrations out on a rooster, no matter how small, is a bad
idea
.

A couple of riders slow down briefly to watch Peter stomp toward the bird but they turn away and pedal on.

Curving around Josie, Nick, and the loose birds, which they will never get rounded up, I run toward the road but don’t get there in time to chase Peter away from that rooster.

After crowing once last time, the rooster turns into a flurry of feathers as it hops straight up and swipes Peter’s arm with its spur. A bright red gash glows all the way from his elbow to his wrist. The bird isn’t done. It’s hopping around, getting ready to fly at him again.

I know. We all hate Peter. Still—I can’t stand there and watch him get attacked by the rooster. When I reach the road I give the bird three swift kicks. The thing topples over, rights itself then runs off to hide in a bush and regroup.

A cluster of bikes speed past Peter who is holding his arm and whimpering, “Oh my God! That bird is fucking insane!”

“You okay?”

Josie and Nick come racing up to ask him if he’s okay too. Over in the grass, the other roosters run off to take shelter in the bushes. Everything falls quiet.

“Hayley!” Josie turns to me. “That was awesome. You totally saved him!”

Crap. The raffle.
I check my phone. Three-fifty.

Riana!

Josie slips past Nick, takes Peter’s bike then looks at me. “He needs to get cleaned up right?”

My amazing skill impressed her so much that she assumes I know these things about rooster scratches. I do, so I nod then add, “With some serious soap.”

“I’ll take him up to the clubhouse. Okay?”

But that means Josie will miss Riana’s big finish. “You sure?”

Josie glances at the angry gash already swelling on Peter’s arm and shrugs. “Yeah.”

I dart over to grab my backpack out of the storage shed. “There’s a first-aid kit in the bathroom.”

Peter tries to look indignant as he clutches his swelling arm. “I don’t need help.”

I look at him with sharp eyes. “Check out that scratch. Where do you think that thing’s feet have been all day? Can you say infection? You want a huge scar?”

He studies his arm, which is getting worse by the second, shoots a glance at the road, then looks at me. “Um, did you see—”

“Riana?” I nearly bark at him, stupid pain in the ass that he is. “Yes. I did see her. She was one of the first to go by.”

Without saying anything to Peter, Josie wheels his bike toward the hill. Still holding his arm, Peter shuffles after her. The last thing I see before Nick and I hurry over to the parking lot and toward the finish line is the flutter of feathers.

“Are those stupid birds going to follow us?” Nick looks worried, probably wondering if the birds have a thing against guys.

“Probably. Come on.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

Too Cocky

“I told you someone was trying to steal him!”

Why is Mrs. Klonski staring at me with teary, bloodshot eyes? I scan the crowd for Frankie, my mom or my aunt.
Where’s Riana? Did she win?
I take Mrs. Klonski’s arm and guide her through the mob of sweaty, bike riders and festive spectators as I make my way to the small, square podium that’s been set up just past Mr. Hastings’ security booth. “It’s time for the raffle, Mrs. Klonski. Don’t you want to see what you won?”

The old lady squares herself in front of me. “What about Snickers?”

“Tony has him.” I slip around her and climb up the low steps. “Right?”

“No!” Mrs. Klonski follows me halfway up the steps and points over my shoulder toward the clubhouse. “Tony said he was going to keep Snickers right by the pool, until I got back. I just saw him go inside and he didn’t have Snickers. Something’s happened. I know it.”

The mob around the podium starts to press closer. Frantically, I dig through my backpack for the raffle tickets and prize certificates. “Dogs aren’t allowed inside, remember? Maybe Tony had to…go…to the bathroom. He left Snickers with somebody else. Did you go up to the clubhouse and check on him?”

Her face pulls together. “No. I came to find you. You said Tony would take very good care of my little man.”

“I did?”

“Yes, you did. Don’t you remember?”

Sometimes I need to keep my mouth shut.

All four sides of the podium are packed with people who are staring at me. Bikers holding their helmets mingle with residents who’ve eaten too many hot dogs. Their eyes say, ‘We’re hot, sweaty and tired. We want our prizes.’

Riana and Nick appear at the back of the crowd. He’s pointing to her head and she’s grinning like, well, like she just showed up her hyper-competitive ex-boyfriend, which is awesome.

I notice Josie going into the clubhouse with Peter. I point at them, but Riana and Nick don’t get it. They probably think I’m being an excited idiot so they don’t turn around.

“Hayley dear? Is it time for the raffle? What about Snickers?”

I’m back to ‘Hayley dear’?

Obviously she’s having a hard time dealing with the conflict here. Precious Pooch versus Prizes. She’ll be my second rescue for the day. “Go check on Snickers. Any prizes you win, I’ll set aside.”

“You sure?” She starts digging through her pocketbook. “You need my tickets.”

“No, I don’t. You wrote your name on all the stubs, remember?”

She totters off as quickly as her feet will carry her.

If Tony did something stupid with that dog I’m going to kick his ass. I pick up the microphone and get started.

* * * *

“What do you mean you lost the dog?”

The raffle drawing was a huge success and after passing out the last of the prizes, I’ve come into the air-conditioned clubhouse to find Tony holding Snickers’ cowboy hat but not looking very sad that he’s misplaced the beloved pup. “I left him out by the pool and when I got back he was gone.”

How stupid is this. “You didn’t tie him up?”

“I had to check on something. You don’t seem to get that I’m in the middle of something today.” He shoves the hat in my backpack. “I’ve got to go, Hayley. You promised I could leave.”

I didn’t know men could whine like that. Too bad things are about to get even worse for him. “Your roosters kind of—”

The shriek from outside cuts me off. I throw down my backpack and race outside. Snickers, still sporting his red, white and blue sweater is chasing the Old English Bantam around the poolside tables. The Rhode Island Red, feathers fluffed and ready for action, is perched on the fence.

Oh! There’s Caroline.
The party’s over and she’s all alone, tiptoeing around in bright pink, high-heeled sandals. Now I know that she was the one who screamed because she’s screaming again.

Urgh. It’s an awful sound.

She glares at me. “Get that thing out of here.”

Me?

It’s Tony’s fault the dog is knocking over plants and dragging down tablecloths. I spin around to see Tony dash off in the direction of the storage shed and disappear between some buildings. Well, he’s about to get a surprise.

“There’s my little sweetie! Oh, thank heavens!” It’s Mrs. Klonski weaving her way to nowhere. “Come to Mommy, darling.”

But Snickers is on a mission. He nips at the rooster and chases it around the corner. Mrs. Klonski huffs after them calling, “I won’t let those nasty birds hurt you.”

“Caroline?” Mr. Neville. Where did he come from? “Caroline. Would you please come to the office with me.”

Hmmmm.
He didn’t say that like a question.

Caroline’s opens her mouth then snaps it shut. She really looks like she wants to say something to me—
gee, I wonder what that could be
—but Mr. Neville has asked her, again, to go with him to the office.

The
office.

Not
your
office.

“The chickens!” It’s Tony again and he is so distraught I feel sorry for him. “I have to have the chickens!”

He gazes at me with big eyes. “Really, Hayley,” he’s pleading now. “I have to have those birds back or…I’m going to be in big trouble.”

“Why is this my problem?”

“That Frankie kid, he’s with your mom.”

I throw my hands in the air. Those damn familial ties. “How many are still out?”

“Just these two.” Even through his distress I can see the confusion swirling in his face. “Your friends were kind of helping, but it was your mom that caught the others.”

The panic in his eyes sends me into action.

“Give me your shirt,” I say.

He sighs, peels it off, and exposes a chest so evenly tan it looks plastic. “She used it too.”

After he hands the T-shirt over, I shake it out then sidestep my way to the Rhode Island Red. Careful not to look the bird in the eye, I slide steadily closer until—
zip
—I’ve got it covered with the shirt.

Careful of its spurs, I hand it over to Tony.

His smile is crooked. “I guess I could’ve done that.”

I reach for the bird. “I’ll take that one to your car if you want to go after the bantam.”

He backs up. “No, um, I’ll go put this one in the car. Back in the box.”

“Hey, Hayley.” Frankie is sauntering toward us, and I can tell by the flash of color on Tony’s face that he isn’t too happy with my cousin.

Frankie flashes a contrite grin our way. “Hi, Tony. Sorry about the roosters thing.” With that nasty business out of the way, he smiles wide at me. “Mom said I have to ask you if I can check out the microphone that you used for the raffle.”

Holding the bird out as far away from himself as he can, Tony scowls at Frankie then hurries off.

Frankie swings around so he’s in front of me. “Your friends said they’d be up here in a minute, that they went to put that girl’s bike away. So can I? Check the mic out?”

“Sure,” I mumble as I head around the far corner of the clubhouse, toward Snickers’ yip. I see the dog dart back around the other side then disappear. Mrs. Klonski is chattering to her precious pet and it is totally ignoring her.

I cross behind the clubhouse, then pause outside the slightly ajar side door when I hear Mr. Neville.

“Thoroughly embarrassing. That sort of thing is inexcusable.”

After a few beats of silence Caroline says, “There must be some misunderstanding. I’m sure—”

“My daughter showed me this!” The rustle of newspaper shifts through the air. “I had no idea this sort of thing was going on.”

“That article is crap, um, Mr. Neville. I can explain, um…”

Not now, Snickers!
I dive for him as he dashes past, hot on the trail of the small rooster. The pooch slips through my grasp and chases the bantam right into Caroline’s office.

As I scramble in after them, Tony appears and holds out his shirt, which I grab and shake out. Caroline’s steely gaze rakes over Tony’s fake ’n bake chest. Mr. Neville does nothing but stand there looking damn surprised.

The chicken hops onto Caroline’s desk then skitters across to her computer workstation. Its feet click across the keyboard. When it steps on her mouse and starts to slip, I toss the shirt over it and scoop it up. Seeing the bird out of his reach, Snickers barks twice then zips back out the way he came in.

When I turn around to hand Tony his bird he is so amazed by my skill that his mouth is hanging open. So is Mr. Neville’s. That’s one way to impress people on the last day at work.

But they aren’t staring at me. They’re looking at Caroline’s computer screen.

I spin around.
Holy shit.
Right there on Caroline’s computer in gorgeous, vibrant color is the very bird Tony’s holding. And that Araucana. And a naked man with a huge erection. Bright red words scroll across the bottom—

COCK OF THE WALK. INTRO PEEK $4.99 COCK OF THE WALK. ALL MAJOR CREDIT CARDS ACCEPTED.

Josie’s sister’s voice comes from just outside the door. “Shit. Josie, are you sure this is her office?”

I spin back around to see Josie and her sister standing in the doorway with Nick and Riana looming behind. They’re all staring at the screen too.

“Is there a problem?” Caroline is asking.

Stupid Caroline. She’s marching forward as though she weren’t in the middle of being totally embarrassed. Nobody is paying any attention to her because they’re all staring at the roosters strutting across her computer screen. They might be looking at the very tan naked man too. Maybe. Me? I’m watching Tony slip out of the clubhouse through the front door for a change.