Page 9 of Their Pup to Tame

The six-minute drive between my place and Aspen’s shouldn’t have taken twelve, but someone’s car had overheated in the middle of the avenue, and with traffic funneling into the one open lane to get past it, there was no room for anyone to try and push it out of the way. I backed up the moment I realized no one would let me into that mess from the side street I was on, pulled into someone’s driveway, turned around, and took another route.

For some reason, downtown was packed this evening, and I spent most of the time stuck in traffic, glancing at the people in the cars around me, making up stories about their lives based on the way they acted and dressed.

One lady, drumming daggers for fingernails on the steering wheel, sneered through her windshield with such hatred it was a wonder she didn’t crack the damned thing. I imagined her on the way to catch a subordinate slacking off on the job, hell-bent on dressing him down in a grand speech, right before she fired him. Only traffic was preventing her from getting there, and the person sending her tips was warning her that he’d be headed to his next destination soon.

She was furious, warring with anxiety, with this almost obsessive need to catch him in the act. Maybe she’d come close before, maybe she even caught a write-up for some rule infraction committed in the course of trying to trap him. She’s at war with this guy; maybe he doesn’t realize how badly she’s out to get him. She’s not going to get there in time, so now all she can do is sit and stew.

And that’s when I got it. The plot for my next cozy mystery. Where the oblivious golden retriever character gets merc’d by a grumpy supervisor, and the rest of the crew has to figure out who was behind it without winding up as dead as their friend.I wasn’t sure what I wanted their jobs to be. Courier, delivery driver, there were plenty of options. I’d jot them down when I reached Aspen’s,ifI ever reached Aspen’s, because what the fuck was going on in town today?

Two people were arguing over a fender bender, cars blocking the turning lane I was glad I didn’t need to use. The lights in town square seemed to take longer than normal when I reached them, but once I was on the other side, there was hardly anyone around. I cut across town to Aspen’s neighborhood and noticed that most of the traffic was headed for the downtown area.

It dawned on me then that it was Saturday, and the concert in the park series had already been an overwhelming success since Brice Miller had taken over as programming director. He’d started doing themed nights, bringing in multiple bands, vendors, food trucks, and artisans, turning each event into a fucking festival, with bouncy houses and even those bucking bulls that used to be barroom favorites. People no longer went just to spread a blanket out on the lawn and sit, waiting for the next performer to go on. Now they came for the experience, as there were tarot readings and carnival games, like the dunking booth and stalls overflowing with stuffed prizes waiting for winners to pop enough balloons or toss enough rings on bottles to claim them.

“What happened to ten minutes?” Aspen asked when he answered the door.

“I forgot it was concert-in-the-park night,” I grumbled. “There are already a few lanes shut down due to accidents, so be lucky I got here at all.”

“Shit, Jesse Winters was going to play an acoustic set tonight with Dez and Tripp. I heard it was to kickstart the new tour theirbands are launching later in the week. I swear, if Wild Child, Bleeding Dawn, and Tattered Angel play anywhere near here, I will fork over a small fortune to be right there in the front row.”

“If you’re willing to loan me a small fortune, I’d be happy to join you,” I teased. “Now scoot the fuck over and let me in. I already had an idea on the way over here.”

“Shocked you didn’t try writing it while you were stuck in traffic,” he said as he stepped aside.

“Meh, I couldn’t reach my bag.”

“Want anything to drink?” he asked as we headed down the hall.

“Yeah. Whatever you have is fine, thanks.”

“No problem, I’ll throw a platter of snacks together too, since it’s time to pick a new movie.”

“Is there a theme for the night?” I asked as we paused in the doorway of the kitchen.

“Disaster movies that do not involve asteroids, aliens, or anything to do with outer space,” he explained.

“Got it,” I said and left him to put together the refreshments.

Phoenix sat up the moment I stepped into the room, hair forming a messy halo around his face.

“Ouch,” I muttered, stepping closer to get a better look at the damage.

“Well, it didn’t tickle,” he grumbled, “I can tell you that much.”

“What did you do to get a blow dryer thrown at your head?” I asked, cupping his cheek so I could gently turn his head and assure myself that I’d already seen the worst of the damage.

“Forgot to duck. It wasn’t aimed for me.”

“Gotcha. How many stitches did they put in?” I asked.

“Thirteen,” he muttered, resistance against my hand a sign that he was trying to shy away, which I refused to let him do. I wanted to see his eyes when he told me what had put such a sad look in them. “Another wicked scar for the thrill seekers to gawk at. Makes me look dangerous and badass when I pick them up on my Harley. They get to live out their bad-boy fantasy while I’m fucking them through the bed, and I get to dine out on their dime as they’re showing me off all over the place. I just think they’re ugly.”

“Bullshit,” I grumbled. “You’re just as beautiful now as before you got clocked. Just a tad bruised and puffy.”

“Get bent.”

On one hand, it was good that he could laugh it off where other people might have been traumatized, but the fact that he’d gotten used to violence brought some of my less savory tendencies bubbling to the surface.

I kissed his forehead, then stared him in the eyes for a moment before claiming a spot on the couch across from him. Was it perhaps a bit anal, the way I arranged the notebooks in a neat pile ordered by size, edges lined up, since I hated the way spiral-bound notebooks got tangled with one another? I arranged the pens too: blue for writing, red for edits, and a yellow highlighter for notes. I didn’t want to search for lore or names when I went to create a glossary and character sketches later.