Bright Haven: An Amberly Novella Page 11

  The texts were from Jeremy. He was legitimately worried about me, I knew. The last year had taught me the difference between real friends and fake friends. Jeremy was in the former category. He was also traveling through Europe recording his adventures for his channel. So while he could track what was going on online and periodically message me, he couldn’t come over and get in my face. There’s a lot to be said for a friend like that.

  Jeremy was probably right. But that didn’t mean I was ready to do an update. Or that I ever would be.

  I frowned and turned the phone off again. Isn’t every time a good time to do an update? If you ask some people, the answer is yes. It’s never enough either. Every week? Not enough. Every day? Not enough. Every hour? Not enough.

  Finally, it was enough, and I ‘dropped my basket,’ as my grandmother would say. A night of too much drinking, and not enough thinking and I ended up in the hospital with a gap in my memory and worried family surrounding my bed.

  Thankfully Sarah convinced them she would keep track of me, and talked me into moving to Amberly. She even found the house. It’s exactly what I needed. The cute sixties style ranch house on five acres, with a guest house, represented the perfect getaway from the stress of last year. She was right. It was good to get away, but it doesn’t help so much when the internet was everywhere.

  Could I get away with never looking at my phone again?

  Ever since the ugly public meltdown and breakup with my YouTube partner last year, I lost the will to log into social media. It’s not a problem. It’s a solution. This world is too plugged in. Just ask Earl or those other guys playing checkers in the drugstore. They don’t need it. Why should I?

  I moved to Amberly to unplug. Possibly forever.

  I just wanted to live where no one knew who I was. I wanted to throw myself into the analog life. I could spend my days improving the property, remodeling the house, and reading books.

  I piled my purchases on the kitchen table and sorted them out. I stopped on the calendar and looked closer at June and November. That these two firemen were the local celebrities was just fine. No one knew who I was, besides the new gay guy who bought he McFarland place. I wanted it to stay that way.

  I scrubbed a hand over my face and turned the calendar over on my dining room table. Mr. Fireman Cover was distracting enough. I still needed to figure out where to hang it. I tried not to think about the fact that I could possibly run into this guy. Note to self, do not go to fire station.

  Yep, I was all about my new life plan. I would do all the small town things — talk to the people, say hello to the old guys in the drug store, buy the fireman calendar.

  Nothing in this plan included updating social media.

  It’s weird when your life doesn’t belong to you. It belongs to your audience. There’s a push and pull. Is there a happy medium? Must there be? I didn’t even know what normal meant anymore.

  I started the channel because I wanted to talk about dog training. And — because I didn’t have any friends in real life. Somehow the camera was easier to talk to.

  It’s ironic. The person who didn’t know how to make friends ended up with over a million of them.

  Eight years later, I’d gained a million friends and didn’t know what to do with them either. My throat ached, and breathing felt impossible. Thinking about all those people still freaked me out.

  Maybe I just didn’t know how to have friends. Or be a person. I started this channel when I was seventeen, and now seven years later, I had fewer social skills than when I started.

  Maybe that was unfair. But maybe not. YouTube was how I bought this house, and how I spent the last six months not working. But what was I supposed to do now?

  The only thing I’m good at is the thing I’m hiding from.

  It all would have been okay but pretty soon the dog stuff got shuffled into the background for other things — other content. And then there was Rory.

  The viewers loved us together, maybe more than we loved being together. At some point we couldn’t tell the difference between what the viewers wanted and what we wanted, or what was real and what was not real.

  Finally it was too much. I couldn’t do it anymore.

  Now he’s moved on. Pretty quickly too, from what I hear. I guess I was just a replaceable pretty face.

  Yet, it’s probably my fault. I’m the one in hiding.

  But I’m the one who didn’t end up doing what I wanted to do. Rory always wanted to do click bait videos that promised more than they delivered, or do dumb stunts like “Watch Us Walk Around Downtown in Drag!” I was the nerdy idealist who wanted to do something more. Rory said entertaining people was the “more.” But what I always wanted to know was, why couldn’t the videos do both?

  I paced around the house. All of this thinking made me anxious. I came here to not think about all this, not to circle around and ruminate about it. The reason you broke up with someone is so you don’t have to keep having the same arguments over and over. I didn’t need to keep having them in my head. Fuck Rory and his smug face.

  Focus. Focus on something else.

  I looked around my immaculate house. It was still decorated in what I lovingly called “Mid ‘80s Old Lady.” But it was spotless due to my anxiety-driven sleepless nights. When you don’t turn on the internet, you suddenly have a lot of free time. I wasn’t going to start this project until I had all the plans laid out, and figured out how to do all the steps.

  But demolition didn’t require plans.

  My phone chimed in my pocket. Dammit, I thought I turned that off! I reached in, turned it off without looking at the screen, and headed to the garage.

  Life can’t be too bad if you get to use a sledgehammer.

  The last time I got an “update” I managed my anxiety with my new favorite tool, that time on a dilapidated old chicken coop that needed to go. This would be even more satisfying.

  I carried the heavy hammer back into the house, my heart pounding with anticipation. Even though it was my house, and this was supposed to happen (eventually), I felt like I was doing something bad. It was exhilarating.

  I walked into the bathroom, straightening my back and rolling my head side to side. I was already stronger than I’d been when I arrived here. Manual labor was a better workout than talking to a camera. Who knew?

  Light gleamed off the chrome and porcelain surfaces. The hand-tiled shower boasted a checkerboard of hand-painted specialty tiles: light blue and pink flowers sprayed out and tied with a ribbon. Nana would have loved it.

  I lifted the hammer to my side, like a baseball bat, my heart pounding, and took the first swing. The hammer hit the tile, and the crash echoed through the room.

  Tile and grout chunks fell in a ringing tinkle onto the shower floor. Dust sprayed out like ash from a volcano and covered me in an instant haze of white. I looked down at my clothes. These were $300 jeans. They used to matter so much. It felt great to not give a fuck. I’d go get a dust mask in a minute. First, I wanted to take another swing.

  If I’d known destroying buildings was this fun, I would have bought a house a long time ago.

  17

  Tiger Tricks Chapter 4

  Rhett

  My truck rumbled into the parking lot, and Finn met me at the door with empty arms. “Where’s my dog?” I asked him.

  “You’ll see,” he said. He lead me inside, where a group of people gathered around the side table in the kitchen. Mitch and Kai were on their hands and knees peering underneath the table.

  “Your puppy definitely woke up from whatever nap he took in that box.” Finn shook his head.

  That familiar surge of protectiveness ran through me, and I pushed through the commotion. “Everyone back! It’s not like he’s a wild raccoon!”

  The crowd parted. I dropped to my hands and knees and peered under the table. The puppy crouched in the corner, shaking, right next to a puddle of pee.

  “You assholes are scaring him!” I growled. The crowd fell bac
k and I laid on my stomach to assess the situation. Poor little guy. Whatever he did, he didn’t deserve to be cornered by a mob.

  “He got into the donuts,” Mitch said, helpfully.

  I turned back to stare at him. “The donuts? Did he grow wings and fly to get to them?”

  “No, they were in a box on the floor under a chair,” Mitch said. I rolled my eyes. What kind of a dumbass puts a box of donuts on the floor? I stifled this comment and kept it to myself.

  “Is that going to make him sick?” I turned and looked at Finn.

  He shrugged. “I dunno. Chocolate is toxic to dogs but these were glazed. He only got a little, so he’s probably okay. Though with all this excitement and something like that in his stomach, I’m surprised he hasn’t done worse than leave a puddle.”

  Oh god.

  “Is that dog still here?” The chief’s voice boomed behind me. I ignored it for the time being and edged closer to him, my hand out.

  “Hey little guy, come here,” I coaxed. I kept my voice soft and even. “Come on, you can do it.”

  The puppy blinked at me and then put his head down and walked to my hand. He sniffed it and then dropped his weight into my palm, trusting me to take him. I slowly scooped my hand around him and pulled him from under the table.

  As I sat up with the puppy, the room cheered. This startled and spooked the dog. He looked at me with wild eyes and tried to run. “Shhh!” I said to the room. “Can’t you guys see he’s terrified?”

  The chief stood behind everyone else, his arms folded. “Dalmatians are high strung,” he said. “I thought you were taking him out of here?”

  I gritted my teeth and forced myself to relax into a smile. “I had to take my bike home and get my truck. I can’t transport a puppy on a motorcycle.”

  “I was supposed to be watching him,” Finn said. He actually looked upset. “I put him down to let him explore, and he seemed fine. I guess I turned my back and…” he trailed off, and furrowed his brow.

  Maybe Finn wasn’t such a smug asshole after all. I felt for the guy. “Do you have a dog?” I asked him.

  Finn’s features twisted. “I did.” He held my gaze for a moment, pain flickering in his eyes. Then he looked at the floor.

  “Finn mopped up after him while you were gone,” Kai volunteered. “That’s why his back was turned.”

  Oh.

  “Do you want to hold him while I clean this up?” I offered, lifting the puppy toward him.

  Finn’s eyes lit up. “Absolutely!” He beamed and took the dog back into his arms. “Come here, little troublemaker!” I popped up onto my feet and went to get the mop.

  After I cleaned everything up, the chief followed me as I went to retrieve him from Finn. “You can see why we can’t keep him here, right?” he said.

  “He can be taught not to do that,” I said, my defenses rising. “He’s still just a puppy.”

  The chief looked at me evenly. “Remind me where you live?”

  Why is he asking that? He knew where I lived. I gave him the name of my street.

  “That’s not what I mean,” the chief said. “How much land do you have?”

  I sighed and just looked at the chief. He didn’t have to be condescending.

  The chief rubbed his forehead. “Look, I’m not trying to be a dick. It’s just, this kind of dog is a lot of trouble.”

  Just like me. That’s what they said about me.

  The puppy squirmed to get down. Against my better judgment, I set him down on the terra cotta tile floor. It looked slippery to his paws. He looked up at me and then started exploring, weaving in and out of chair legs.

  “Don’t step on the puppy!” I called out.

  “He’s a good looking dog,” the chief admitted. “Someone will want him.”

  “Why not me? I’m someone,” I scowled.

  “Does anyone here want a new puppy?” I asked the room. Everyone stopped talking and stared at me.

  “Sorry man, we just got a new cat,” Mitch said.

  “Yeah no pets allowed where I live,” Kai said.

  I looked at Finn, and he frowned and looked away. “I’m not ready, sorry man.”

  I sighed.

  “The new shelter will find somebody,” the chief said gently. “It will be best for him.”

  “Where did he go?” Finn said.

  Somebody was going to step on him. I knew it. Finn and the chief and I scoured the fire station and found him behind a box chewing on a stray sock.

  “Come on little guy, time to go in the truck.” I scooped him up and took the sock away. He gave me the saddest expression, so I hid the sock in my pocket. It was already ruined. Better the guy think his sock was missing than blame it on the puppy.

  “I’m not even keeping you and I’m already enabling you,” I said to his soft eyes. His heart pounded into my hand as he wiggled and settled.

  “I’m glad you found him,” the chief said. “Why don’t you take the rest of the day, take him to the shelter, and then get your classes set up.”

  Yeah, classes. That’ll happen.

  It was like the chief could read my mind. “After you are set up, bring me your registration papers and I’ll put them in your file.” His meaning was clear. School was not optional.

  He could make me enroll, but unfortunately, he couldn’t make me pass. He’d find that out soon enough.

  “Yes, sir.” I looked down at my shirt, covered in dog hair. The puppy nuzzled my fingers. Ouch, those teeth were sharp! I yanked my hand back and grinned at the chief.

  He held out a file folder full of papers. “Here’s all your registration materials. You left them in my office.”

  I straightened my back and took the file with my free hand. “Thank you,” was all I could manage.

  I tucked the folder under my arm and grabbed a blanket from the shelf. Everyone watched, but no one dared question me. “Later guys. I’m off to throw away a living creature.”

  My heart pounded and I shoved my way out the door. It fell back into the frame with a satisfying slam.

  Out in the bright sun the puppy blinked and squinted. Does he want down or is he trying to get closer? I couldn’t tell.

  I climbed into the cab of the truck and holding the puppy in my arm, spread the blanket out on the seat with the other. I sat him down and he crawled toward my lap.

  It was just as well. Otherwise he might fall over when we stopped.

  I slowly pulled out of the parking lot. The shadows from the trees above alternated flashes of sunlight and shade on the puppy. When the sun hit him, he shone white, his coat sleek and smooth. His black dots were still a little gray and looked like they were under his coat.

  “What will you look like when you are fully grown?” I asked him. “I guess I don’t get to find out.” He sniffed at my pocket and looked up at me. “Are you looking for this?” I pulled over and pulled the sock out of my pocket. He happily pounced on it and settled back with his chewing project.

  “It’s probably not a good idea to let you chew clothes, but it’s not going to be my problem, right?” The bitter anger from a very old place inside me bubbled deep in my core. I glanced over at him and he looked up at me with soulful eyes, and thumped his tail before turning his attention back to the sock.

  I made my way to the shelter, taking the longest route I could find. I told myself I was taking slower roads, for the safety of the dog. This was true, but I was also stalling. His energy filled the entire cab of the truck. He was so new, so vibrant, so…innocent. Every time he looked up at me, he had total trust in his eyes. This creature depended on me. He couldn’t survive without me. And he settled beside me without a care in the world, like he had total faith that I would take care of him.

  Where was I going? The dog shelter? So that maybe “someone” would adopt him?

  But even if someone else wanted him, he was given to me.

  He was mine.

  But I’m in no shape to take care of a dog. I don’t have the right kind of h
ouse. I know nothing about dogs, and I know nothing about taking care of anyone else.

  Sure I could rescue people or help them in emergencies, but day-to-day care was not in my DNA. I came from a fucked up family, and had no business trying to build one of my own.

  I cursed the person who sent me this gift. What kind of asshole sends someone a dog for a present? Why do people think of animals and kids as disposable?

  I spent so many childhood moments being transported from one place that didn’t want me to another place that didn’t want me. I didn’t understand then why no one wanted me.

  Because you’re not as good as them. Because you’re a nobody, that’s why.

  I never knew my dad. My mom…she was preoccupied. I thought she was a good mom because she left the fridge full of food before she left. She came home every few weeks, usually. I got up, fed myself, went to school, came home, tried to do my homework. When she was gone it was just like she was there except the food lasted longer, her random friends didn’t come over and I didn’t have to take care of her.

  If I hadn’t answered the door that day — if I hadn’t let the neighbor in and let them find out she was gone — I could have stayed in the house. No one would have known. She always came home eventually.

  That time, I don’t know if she ever did. They took me away from the only home I knew, away from my mother who always returned. I screwed up and let them in. I was a fuck up, and couldn’t take care of myself after all. Then I became a ward of the state.

  Isn’t that what I was doing to the dog? Fucking up? Not taking care of him? Allowing him to be put in the system to ruin his fate?

  And like little naive me, he had no idea.

  Want the rest? You can find it on Amazon free in Kindle Unlimited for a little longer!

  Tiger Tricks by Edith Scott

  18

  Praise for Tiger Tricks

  I hope you enjoyed this preview of Tiger Tricks. You can find the rest of the novel in the Amazon store, and read it free with Kindle Unlimited.