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When I’m addressed by his last name, I glance at Corrado, who raises his eyebrow, daring me to protest. With an eye roll, I slide into another beautiful leather space with touches of aged, polished wood and personal electronics tucked into the back of the two front seats. It reminds me of an airplane, but much nicer. Maybe first class.
I slide my hand over the leather. Smooth. Real. Rich. Definitely first class.
“If you’re done petting my car,” Corrado says from the door, “do you mind putting this bag in the compartment under my seat?” He drops a duffel on the seat. It’s unzipped, and the barrel of a handgun peeks from inside.
“Sure.” I zip it all the way, open the compartment, and drop the duffel there.
Corrado rests his elbow against the car door. Hazel eyes watch me the way a snake watches a wounded bird on the ground.
Still upset with him about my car, I look away and don’t look back at him even though I feel his gaze on my profile.
“I need a half an hour,” he says. “Do you have somewhere to be this morning?”
“As if you care,” I mumble.
“What was that?” he asks.
“Nothing.”
“Speak up, Michela. Do you have somewhere to be?”
“I have a job interview.” I lie because saying I have nowhere to be and nothing to do besides languish on my bed in my bedroom like a bored teenager might break me.
“On a Saturday?”
I nod. “People work on Saturdays.”
“When is the interview?” he asks.
“At noon.”
“Noon on a Saturday. Sounds like you’re having lunch with someone.”
I sigh. “It’s an interview.”
He taps the roof. “Fine, give me half an hour, and we can leave. The door stays open.”
I check my phone for any messages, check the app for job postings, apply to two of them, and send a message for the third one when another car pulls up. It’s a pink van with a sticker of a German Shepard taking a bath across the entire side of the car. A working van for a pet grooming business.
The vehicle pulls up near the gate, and a lady dressed in brown overalls and a large white sun hat gets out. From her gait, I see that she’s elderly. She embraces Corrado before walking toward the pair of dogs in the lot. They’re on a leash.
Corrado and the woman chat for a bit, and she moves away while Corrado starts walking toward the larger and clearly more aggressive of the two animals.
He approaches the dog slowly but surely, each step measured though not hurried. While the dog has stopped barking, he’s tucked his tail, and the hair along his spine stands upright, indicating displeasure.
Chewing my lip, I step out of the car and cover my mouth. I wouldn’t dare do this, and I wished Corrado would leave the dog alone. What’s he doing? Why is he doing this? Gosh, he’s mental.
Corrado grips the dog’s muzzle, but the dog manages to wrestle away and bites Corrado’s arm. I gasp as Corrado struggles with the dog. The big dog fights in earnest, snarling at Corrado, snapping his teeth, but Corrado keeps at it and finally manages to unhook the metal chain, grip the dog by the back of his neck, and hold him off.
When Corrado forces the animal to rise on his hind legs, and the lady approaches and bends lower, I see blood trickling down the animal’s belly. It’s from the metal spikes in his collar that’ve been digging into his neck for God knows how long.
Once the woman walks away, Corrado picks up the animal and holds him against his chest. He whispers into the dog’s ear, and oddly, the dog stops struggling. Corrado puts him in the back of the lady’s car without much fuss and then returns for the smaller, chocolate-brown one, who watches the whole thing, whining the entire time.
This one seems scared, so Corrado pets it before unhooking the metal chain. The heavy thing drops to the ground, sending up a puff of dirt. The lady comes over, and they huddle around the dog. I chew my lip.
Corrado steps away at the same time that Hank rounds the car and opens the passenger door. He bends and, a moment later, comes away with a military-green duffel that he carries over to Corrado, who takes it and walks away. The lady hands over the dog to Hank, who walks it to the car. The dog settles into the passenger seat.
Poor thing clearly hasn’t had a bath in God knows how long. I want to pet her, but I’m too chicken right now.
