Page 14 of Puppy Love

In fact, other than Beebo trying to DIY his own death, the only part of my day that was less than amazing was learning that I shoved my tongue down my boss’s throat last night.

The most horrifying part of it all is that, with absolutely no warning, I fled the scene like I had just committed a crime. To be fair, that’s kind of how it feels right now. I don’t know why. We are two consenting adults who were having a good time. But in the pit of my stomach, it feels like I did something illegal. I think that’s why I haven’t told Adrian or Hayden yet.

“It was good,” I say, walking over to the refrigerator. I pull out a cinnamon applesauce pouch and twist the plastic cap until it snaps off. “I like having my own space.”

I suck the sweet puree into my mouth and slide down on the floor next to Dawson. He lifts his head just for a moment, then rests his chin on my lap, a small spot of drool leaking onto my thigh. I know it’s kind of gross, but I love when he does that.

“By the way,” Avery says gruffly, “Beebo’s mom said thank you for the suggestions on brushes.”

My eyebrows press together so hard that I’m surprised it doesn’t leave an indent. “What?”

Avery shoots me a confused glance, then looks back at the television and takes another bite of his gyro.

“She left a tip in the till for you too.”

Okay. Now I know Avery is fucking with me. Because never, in my five years of dog grooming, has a client ever been polite, or even thanked me, when I spent hours shaving their dog who was pelted to the skin. I get “I asked for a Teddy Bear cut,” or sometimes the occasional shocked laugh when their dog comes in looking like a bear, then leaves looking like a naked horse. But never, ever, “thank you.”

“Ha-ha,” I say sarcastically, scratching gently behind Dawson’s ear. He groans in appreciation, his toes spreading out in front of him in pure bliss. Adrian quirks an eyebrow, and Avery looks back at me again with that same confused expression.

“Cam, she left fifty dollars,” Adrian says, and their tone tells me they aren’t bullshitting me. I swallow, still shocked as to how this can be true.

“Huh? But I charged her $200!”

Avery chuckles, shaking his head and Hayden whistles dramatically.

“Babes,” Adrian says, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. “People who can afford to bring their dog to a dog hotel don’t give a shit about money. And Beebo’s mom is awesome. She owns Mountain Scoops, so she always brings us free samples.”

Mountain Scoops Creamery has the best ice cream known to man. All of its flavors are Pacific-Northwest-themed. Puget Sound Pistachio, Huckleberry Lilac, Rainier Rocky Road. But my favorite, and the only one I’ve ever tried, is the Seattle Strawberry Swirl.

“What?” I ask, my eyebrows practically touching my hairline. They both chuckle again.

“Wow. Corporate really did a number on you, huh, kid?” Avery says. He always calls me kid like he isn’t only a year older than me. It’s so condescending. Adrian bursts into laughter and smacks Avery’s arm repeatedly as they struggle to get their words out.

“Remember when Carlos-wh-when he thought the Peanut Butter Dream was for humans, and he ate the entire pint because he didn’t know it was a sample for the dogs?” They cackle, gripping their stomach as their eyes well with hysterical tears. Avery’s cheeks pink as he recounts the event.

“Oh my god, I forgot about that.”

Hayden and I giggle at the thought, even though neither of us were there.

“I don’t think I met Carlos,” I say, flipping through mental flashcards of the few people I was introduced to today. There was Martha, the receptionist. Brooke was young, no older than sixteen, and I was honestly kind of confused as to why she wasn’t at school. Then, there was Malcolm, a twenty-something-year-old that was possibly but not definitively stoned. And of course, who could forget Violet? But nothing comes to mind at the name “Carlos.” Avery shakes his head, running a hand through his thick brown hair.

“Oh, Carlos doesn’t work there anymore,” Adrian says, waving a hand like it’s nothing to worry about. “He got fired.”

Hayden’s eyes widen, and I choke on my applesauce.

“What?”

People get fired anywhere. I know that. But if there are any random things I could do that would get me into trouble, I want to know what they are. You know, like telling parents how to brush their dogs.

“Calm down, calm down,” Adrian says, already knowing exactly where my brain was dragging me to. “It was an unconventional situation.”

I stare at them, anxiously tugging at the strands of hair tickling the back of my neck.

Vague explanations don’t work for me. I need to know the exact details of a situation. The fine print. I’m the type of person who reads the terms and conditions before clicking “accept.” Adrian knows this.

They sigh, leaning back into the couch. I know it gets exhausting for them, to have to hold my hand through every little thing. I feel terrible about it, and I try really, really hard not to do it all the time. But it feels impossible to just move on. My brain gets attached to the subject until my mind is at ease. I can’t eat, sleep, or think about anything else until I get the answers my brain is looking for. That’s another reason Adrian is so amazing. They always break things down for me, even if it has no significance at all in the end.

“So,” they say, now leaning forward, their arms resting on their knees like they’re about to tell a campfire story. Adrian is a wonderful storyteller. “Once upon a time, there was a manager named Carlos. Carlos was kinda cool. Then, one day, Carlos hired a girl named Annie. Annie was kind of a bitch.”

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