Chapter 6

chapter

six

Hayden

I pause to buy a coffee that I do not need so I can lag behind and give Mills the space I do not want to give.

What just happened?

A woman I barely know put a thing in my ass and made me come harder than I've ever come in my life.

The logical next step is to take a breather—take things slowly and go on a proper date.

But I can't put the toothpaste back in the tube, as it were. Mills has now seen things, and done things. Knows things about me.

Hell, she could ruin me with one email to my board of directors. She could tell everyone that the founder and CEO of Conquest Sports has been stalking her all over Los Angeles, and she'd be totally in the right. She'd be right to sue me for harassment, coercion, and unwanted sexual advances, and I would settle out of court for millions.

But I'd rather give her everything that's mine as long as we're together.

As I consider all this, I notice the "Dogs for Adoption" sign in neon pink across the street. I step out of the coffee shop to take a closer look.

The rescue agency has half a dozen enclosures out on the sidewalk in front of the building to get the attention of passersby.

This is opportunity knocking.

The next thing I know, I'm jaywalking toward the doggos in need of humans.

"I'd like a dog, please," I say, approaching the clerk at the front desk inside.

The clerk hands me a sheet of paper and a pen. "Fill this out. We'll run a full background check and call you in three days."

I look at the clipboard and lean over the counter. "Listen. I've filled out one too many questionnaires already this morning. I really just need a dog right now."

He squares his shoulders. "I can't just hand over a dog without running a background check. And the fact that you demand one right now is rather unsettling. How do we know you don't want it for fighting?"

"Don't you have like a dozen dogs out on the sidewalk waiting to be adopted? I thought today was adoption day, according to the sign."

He nods. "It is but there's a whole process."

Me? Not a fan of proper procedure and wait lists and all that.

I shoot off a quick text to my contact at Stel Security.

What I do next, I'm not proud of. I pull my company photo ID badge and driver's license out of my wallet and set them on the counter.

"I wouldn't expect you to know who I am, but my name is Hayden McAllister. If I adopt a dog for illegal reasons, or end up neglecting an animal, it would end up in the news and shame my entire company."

The clerk studies my cards for half a second. "Maybe."

Leaning across the counter, I tell him, "My college buddy at Stel Security is sending over a full background check right now. It's probably already in your email."

Full of doubt, the clerk purses his lips.

"Would it help to request the oldest, most difficult, senior dog in this place? You know you've got one like that. The one that everyone has given up on."

I'm a straight-up asshole for that, but it's working. I can see that look in the clerk's eye. Of course, they have a dog like that.

He thinks momentarily, then says, "Just for the record, I don't appreciate people who throw their status and connections around just to get what they want."

"Understood. I'm a jackass, but I'm on a mission and only a rescue dog is gonna help with that."

"And what mission is that?"

"What else? I need to impress the love of my life."

Pursing his lips, the clerk mutters in front of his computer and taps the keys. "As you predicted, your background check is already through. But I'm sorry, there's still a waiting list?—"

I slide two hundred-dollar bills across the counter and get my checkbook ready.

"That's for you. How much is my adoption fee?"

He changes his tune right away. "For Shelby? No fee. But we are about to be evicted from this building because the owner wants to sell it," the clerk says.

"Oh look at that," I say, scribbling out my check. "Does that cover it?"

"Fuck, that'll buy us the building," he says. "Thank you!"

Money doesn't solve everything but it sure does help people change their attitude.

The clerk makes a quick exit from behind the counter and opens up a crate containing the saddest pair of eyes I've ever seen.

"I'll get Shelby ready for you right away, Mr. McAllister."

My new best friend Shelby is a 14-year-old three-legged border collie with a condition that requires her to receive an injection once a day. The clerk, Wes, walks me through the entire process, loads me up with medication, and advises me on a dozen other things.

In the end, Shelby and I walk out of the shelter and head straight to the pet supply store, where I stock up on food, treats, a bed, and more toys than what would be reasonable for a senior dog.

On the way to the dog park, I passed a lurid green, ramshackle comedy club. On the side of the building is a poster announcing the lineup tonight, with Mills's headshot.

One million thoughts swirl through my head. I looked down at Shelby and say, "You know what I'm thinking about doing, don't you?"

Shelby looks at me and whines.

I nod in complete agreement. "You're right, Shelby, but I'm doing it anyway."

I approach the box office.

"How many tickets are left for Mills Mosley's show tonight?"

A woman in her 60s with a name tag that says Pamela gives me a baleful look. "A hundred."

That's weird. "How many seats are in this place?"

"A hundred."

"Ironically, you seem to lack humor about that," I say.

Pamela blinks at me. "Do you want a ticket or not?"

I think for a moment, then say, "I'd like to buy out the house."

"For one person?"

"No, people will be there."

"Do you even know a hundred people?"

"That's for you to find out, Pamela."

I plonk down my Amex black card, and while Pamela runs it, I grab my phone and call my cousin.

"Hey Grizz, I need you to send out a memo that there are a hundred tickets to the Laugh Lodge tonight, free of charge. I want to see everyone at corporate there. Plus ones included. First come first serve. The two-drink minimum is on me."

"Will do, cousin."

Grizz and I have one of those no-questions-asked relationships that I appreciate.

Mills? She is not like that at all. She always has lots of questions, which is both maddening and attractive to me.

Everything about her is ridiculous and stubborn and beautiful and maddening.

When Shelby and I arrive at the dog park, Mills is not there, and I worry that I might have missed her.

But we make the most of our time and meet many other dogs and dog parents.

Shelby turns out to be quite a hit with the others. She's gentle with the little pups and polite with everyone else.

And even though she's only got three legs, she can chase down a ball and return it—a little slower than most but not the slowest.

"What are you doing here?"

I spin around slowly, knowing full well who said that.