Unleashed (A Sydney Rye Novel, # 1) (2 page)

I exhaled. “Did you really attack him?” Blue wagged his tail and sat. “I suppose it would be your natural instinct,” I hiccuped. “He was invading your home, right?” Blue looked at me blankly. “You don’t look mean.” He really didn’t. He was very tall but painfully skinny. I could see his ribs under his fur. Although, I noticed that, maybe because one of his eyes was blue and the other brown, he looked a little cross-eyed when looking directly at him. Really, he looked mildly retarded from such a straight-on view, kind of like one of those inbred guys playing a banjo in the Appalachians. It occurred to me that I knew nothing about this dog. Our history was barely 12 hours long. I’d basically moved a large, hairy stranger into my house. The phone rang as I stared at my new dog, a little confused.

“Hey.” It was my brother, James. “You want to get some drinks tonight?”

“Yeah sure, I have a lot to tell you.”

“Anything good?”

“Not really. Well, I guess one thing.” Blue had curled himself into a ball at my feet. “How about Nancy’s at— ” I looked at the clock. It was 6:30. “How about 15 minutes?”

“Give me 20.”

Nancy’s

The sun was slipping behind the brownstones across the street and turning the sky pink when I left for Nancy’s. “Hey,” said the guy on the corner who always said hey. I ignored him. “Hey, pretty lady, you got a beautiful ass,” he tried again. I watched the concrete and power-walked away.

Ten minutes later I was at Nancy’s, a low-key lesbian bar with a nice backyard. If you wanted to talk to a stranger you could, but there was no pressure. If you wanted to take someone home you could, but again there was no pressure.

“Tequila gimlet, straight up.” The bartender, whose name I was pretty sure was Diane, nodded and moved off to make my drink. My face, reflected in the mirror behind the bar, peered from between a bottle of Blue Curacao and Midori. I needed a haircut. My fashionable bangs had grown out, and now I just pushed them behind my ears. Last night’s fight with Marcus and my early-morning journey to the pound had left puffy, blue-tinted circles under my eyes. All those tears had left the white around my gray irises streaked with red and—I leaned forward a little to make sure—my upper eyelids a bizarre orange.

Diane placed a martini glass brimming with a sheer red liquid on the bar, and I handed her a ten. I moved toward the backyard, trying not to spill my drink all over my hand while spilling my drink all over my hand.

The backyard was empty except for one overly cute couple sitting in the soft candlelight cooing. I took a table close to the door and artificial lighting. As the tequila burned in my mouth, I wrangled with the memories of the past 24 hours. I’ve become an expert in shoving thoughts I don’t like to the back of my mind. But they never go away—they’re always back there— lurking right on the other side of my self-control.

James appeared in the doorway, smiling, holding a Tequila gimlet, splash of cran (but his was on the rocks). He was a head taller than I at around six feet. We shared the same gray eyes and blond hair, though James’s was short and styled while mine was reaching past my shoulder blades. Edging towards 30, James liked to talk about how his green-bean physique was morphing into eggplant. But the guy was still a pole.

“You look like shit,” James said as he sat down. I smiled weakly and slurped my tequila. “Seriously, what the fuck happened to you?”

“Well, I broke up with Marcus”—this elicited a gasp—“and bought a dog.”—an even bigger gasp—“Oh, and I got fired.” I raised my glass in a mock toast to myself and polished it off.

“I talked to you yesterday! All this happened in one day?” I nodded, tried to finish my drink, then realized I already had. I went and brought back another.

“It’s not really surprising,” I said as I sat down. “We all knew it was coming.” James nodded.

“Are you OK?” he asked.

“Well, I did lose my job because I went kinda crazy at work.”

“Crazy?”

I told him about the plump tourist, her misorder, my insane reaction, and Brad’s management decision. Then I told him about the masturbation comment.

“That’s my sister. I’m proud of you, Joy. That job sucked. You’ve got a whole new fresh start.”

“Easy for you to say. How exactly am I supposed to pay my rent?”

“You’ll figure it out. Now, tell me about this dog. I can’t believe you’re such an asshole that you went out and got a dog because you broke up with your boyfriend. It’s so pathetic.”

“You’re a real sweetheart.”

“Somebody has to tell you.”

“Jesus, I wanted a dog, so I went and got a dog.”

“Oh, this was something planned?” James leaned his elbows on the table with mischief dancing in his eyes. “It’s just a coincidence that you happened to break up with your boyfriend the night before.” He smiled at me.

“Oh, just shut up. So what if I bought a dog to console myself?” He was right, of course. I had gone and bought a dog because I broke up with my boyfriend. And, yes, that was pathetic.

“So, what kind of dog?”

“He’s really beautiful. He has one blue eye and one brown. Oh, oh, the best part is he attacked Marcus when he tried to come over.” James laughed. “I know. Can you fucking believe it? He left me five messages today.” I held up my hand with all five fingers extended.

“Your dog attacks people?”

“Not people, intruders,” I said with more confidence than I felt. For all I knew Blue attacked all sorts of people. Maybe it wasn’t that Marcus was breaking into the house. Maybe Blue would attack any douchebag we passed on the street. The thought made me laugh.

James smiled at me. “Not to talk badly about Marcus, Lord knows he was sexy as hell, but the guy is kind of an idiot. Not to mention that he tried to control you way too much. Low self-esteem fucks up a lot of men.” James sat back, his hypothesis fully expressed.

I laughed. “I guess. Whatever, I’m over it.” I sat up and scooped up my drink taking a long sip. “I’m so over it.”

“Well, are you going to call him back? I don’t think you should. Make a clean break.”

I knew he was right, but I also knew that I had no control over myself whatsoever and would probably call him. “How’s Hugh?” I asked, changing the subject. Hugh was James’s boyfriend of four years.

“He’s good,” James smiled. “Actually, we’re really good … Our offer was accepted.” Hugh and James had spent the last eight months trying to find an apartment. Two months ago, they’d found it. A fifth-floor walk-up with a roof deck, two bedrooms (OK, a bedroom-and-a-half) and a kitchen that was recently renovated.

“Holy shit. That’s awesome. How much?”

“It’s a little out of our price range, but you always pay more than you want, right?”

An hour-and-a-half later, I stumbled into my building blind-drunk. I climbed the steps humming to myself, swinging my keys. I was feeling pretty good. Sure, I had no job, no boyfriend, and a mildly retarded dog, but life was not so bad, not so bad at all. I would make it; I could fix it. Everything was going to be just fine.

Blue greeted me at the door. “Hi, boy.” I crouched and rubbed his ears. He nuzzled my chest, knocking me against the wall. Blue wrapped himself in my arms. I breathed into his neck, smelling the pound. “We’re going to be OK,” I said into his neck. “I’m going to take care of us. Starting tomorrow, I’m going to fix this mess of a life of ours.” Then I passed out.

Fixing this Life

I opened my eyes and immediately closed them again. The sun rushing through the living room windows sent bolts of pain to the back of my head. Blue pushed his muzzle against my arm, encouraging me to get up. I squinted through my fingers at him. He tried to lick my eyeball. I laughed and then groaned.

Sitting up, my entire body rebelled. “Jesus fucking Christ,” I muttered through sock-coated teeth. Groping the wall I struggled to stand. I could feel my brain floating on an ocean of tequila. Every movement sent it crashing into the walls of my skull.

Gently, I moved down the hall to the bathroom. In the mirror I saw I was wearing the same clothing as the morning before. I struggled with my jeans while the bathtub filled. Steam fogged the room, and I sank under the hot water, listening to my heart resound in my head.

My hair combed and my teeth brushed, I checked the fridge hoping for fresh milk for my coffee, knowing that I hadn’t bought any. I poured the coffee, scooped sugar in by the tablespoon, splashed in the milk (only one day late) and topped the whole thing off with a load of cinnamon.

After my second cup of coffee, I knew what to do. “First thing I’m gonna do today,” I yelled to Blue from the bedroom as I got dressed, “is take you for a walk.” I squeezed into a pair of freshly washed jeans, struggling to button the button. I found a T-shirt in a mound of clothing I kept on a chair in the corner of my room, smelled it, and put it on. “Then I’m going to find a job.” I slipped on a flip-flop, glanced around for the other, got down on my knees and checked under the bed, found it and put that on, too. I walked back out to the hall where Blue waited. He smiled at me, clearly confident in me, and my plan.

Blue’s whole body vibrated as I put the leash on him. We bounded down the stairs together and by the time we hit the street I was feeling pretty good. It was one of those gorgeous early-summer days when the temperature is just right, the sun is shining, and you get the distinct feeling that everything will be just fine.

I strutted down the street, admiring the way my wet hair looked in the sun, its many shades of white and gold catching the light. Blue trotted next to me, sniffing the warm air. Park slope in the early-summer was designed for dog walking. We wandered past boutiques, their windows filled with beautiful clothing. Well-dressed, good looking people milled around the coffee shop. They all turned to look at us. Blue really did look like a creature from another land. His white and black fur glistening in the sunlight and his strangely beautiful eyes caught the attention of everyone we passed.

On our way back to my place we passed a school. Children flooded into the playground laughing and yelling, heading home. I smiled as the kids began to surround us, when suddenly Blue lunged and snapped at a passing teacher. The man, plump and freckled, jumped back, tripped over a piece of uneven pavement, and fell to the ground, his eyes wide and wet with fear. Blue strained against the leash, desperate to finish him off. Blue’s lips curled up to expose massive, razor-sharp teeth that snapped at the air, trying to sink into any part of the poor guy.

The children cowered and screamed for their mothers as my wolf dog strained to disembowel their instructor. Blue looked like a starved lunatic recently escaped from a mental hospital, spit whipping out of his mouth in long strings, his eyes rolling wildly in their sockets.

I gripped the leash with both hands and yanked it with such strength that Blue’s body twisted backwards, lifting his front paws off the ground and landing them in the opposite direction. I used his momentary surprise to begin dragging him back toward the house. He didn’t stop snarling until the sound of children’s voices had dissipated.

Nona

As I was trying to find my keys, my next-door neighbor, Nona, opened her door. "I knew it," she said. “I knew you got a dog. Now, bring that little rapscallion over, and let’s have some tea.”

I first met Nona through my grandmother, who lived in my apartment before she passed away. Nona was a retired dancer in her early seventies. She’d been married three times to three men who all died within the first six months of marriage, leaving her with the full name of Nona Carvel Nevins Blatt, but she went with her maiden name, Jones.

Nona ruffled Blue’s ears and cooed to him about how handsome he was, and so big. “Would you like a snack, you little rapscallion, you?” Blue answered by prancing behind her as she moved toward the kitchen, his massive tail swinging the width of the hallway. Photographs of Nona in front of the Eiffel Tower, the Mirage Hotel, an elephant, dotted the walls. Her youthful face smiled from behind the glass. Nona’s hair, now a brilliant silver and cropped short, had once been long, silky, and black. In my favorite photograph, Nona is in the center of ten smiling women all crowded together. Behind them looms a large blimp.

Nona was half in the fridge with Blue by her side when I walked in. “How about a little chicken fricassee?” Nona asked as Blue’s tail thumped against the cabinets. She had remodeled her kitchen, putting down cork floors, putting up blue cabinets, and laying butcher-block counter tops. Over the stove hung photographs of her three husbands, all beautifully framed with a slight layer of grease coating them. Nona stood up from behind the fridge and smiled at me.

“So, you got a dog, broke up with Marcus—anything else dear?” she asked while feeding Blue from a Tupperware container. He sat quietly in front of her, licking his lips and tapping his tail.

“Yeah, I got fired.”

Nona let out a laugh. “Isn’t it all so exciting?” she said, pulling down her teapot.

“I guess you could call it that.”

“Oh, cheer up. You have a whole new fresh start,” she said with a furrowed brow that quickly spread into an infectious smile. “You can do anything now.” I smiled back at her, feeling slightly better.