Page 20 of Stirred Up

“Nah, thanks for coming,” Dylan answers him as I look up, staring forward.

“I take it he told you.” Brady grabs the chair beside me then leans in to my ear and whispers, “Tell me, do you stay mad just so I’ll tell you how fucking cute you look when you pout?” He laughs, only momentarily, as I kick him under the table. His hand disappears to rub his shin, still lightly sniggering. “So, catch me up. What’d I miss?”

“Shit, I should’ve got a refill while she was here. I can’t eat without a drink, hang on,” Dylan gets up with his glass and wanders off in search of the waitress. “Don’t eat them all, Moe!”

The second he’s out of earshot, I turn narrowed eyes on Brady. “So when you let him move in and I said quit enabling him, you took that to mean buy him a company? What the hell, Brady? Things handed to you aren’t worth working for! Dylan needs to learn that work is hard and bosses suck, but you do it anyway, until you earn more, because that’s what adults do!”

His easy demeanor is gone, replaced with a tight jaw. “And I told you, all he needs is a shot, someone to believe in him, which I do, and it pisses me off that you don’t! Hehas a good business plan, Moe, have you seen it? Have you asked to see it? I don’t have money because I go around throwing it away.” He pops a cheese bite in his mouth and I’m tempted to reach down his throat and take it back.

“No, you havemoneyfrom a pathetic trust fund your dead beat father left you! And once again, I’m the bad guy all because I want stability formybrother?” My anger slowly dissolves into hurt, softening the harshness in my tone. “I’m tired of lying to our parents and saying ‘he’s doing great!’ I’m tired of moving him around and checking to see if he’s got groceries. And I’m tired of you swooping in to be his hero. What happens when you have a family? You still gonna raise him too?” I prop my elbow on the table and grip my hair, letting out an exasperated sigh.

He smoothly runs his finger over my cheek. “Maybe you’re mad because you didn’t dream bigger, because you stopped at vet tech, eager to turn a paycheck, scared to go all the way and open your own clinic.”

“I like my—” My defensive statement is cut short, silenced when he takes my chin in his hand.

Our eyes meet in a fiery battle. “You think he’s helpless, dependent on me? Well you’re

dependent too,Moe. That clinic could close tomorrow, do cutbacks, fire you. And guess what? That security you think you have that allows you be so high and mighty?” He shakes his head, eyes never straying from mine, fingers loosening on my chin. “It’d be gone. You’d be crying for help from your loser enabler boy then too.”

My gasp comes out louder than I’d hoped, anger, shock, and hurt coursing through me. I rear back out of his grip and stand, overturning my stool. My chin is quivering, pulse racing as I snatch my purse. “Tell Dylan good luck and tell yourself,” I take a deep breath, “to fuck off.”

With that said, I storm from the restaurant, another lunch break ruined. Make that a whole day ruined.

Hours later and I’m still seething; not so much mad at Dylan as worried about him. But Brady? Steaming mad at that asshole. How dare he talk to me like that? I love my job and I’m damn good at it. And excuse me if yes, an income, my own life, sounded better than years of Ramen and student loans.

I’m still doing what I love, helping animals.

Except today; today I’m scaring them off with the piss poor mood and angry vibes oozing from me. Even Roscoe,a bloodhound too old to lift his own head, has growled at me twice.

I get pulled away from Tabby’s hissing to answer an important phone call. Oh no, it’s not a bad joke,too coincidental to happen anywhere but in a badly written sitcom with canned “oohs” and “ahhs.” It’s actually happening.

“Hello?”

“Miss Porter, hi, this is Samantha from Dr. Reynolds’ office. Sorry to bother you, but we need you to come in for some retesting. Your last results were reported back as inconclusive.”

“What does that mean,inconclusive?” I look around, making sure none of my coworkers are eavesdropping.

“Miss Porter, I’m not licensed or qualified to discuss that with you. Only Dr. Reynolds can do that, so I need to make you an appointment. Is next Wednesday at one okay for you?”

“NextWednesday? Like not the one in two days, the one in nine?”Is she kidding me?You don’t drop a bomb on my already war-ravaged battlefield and then tell me I need to wait eons for an explanation. “Uh, no, actually, it’s not.I’m not waiting that long to find out what’s wrong with me. I want in as soon as possible, please.”

“That is as soon as—”

“Listen, Samantha,” I cut her off snidely, which I’ll feel guilty for later, “you can’t call a woman with evasive, worrisome news like that and then expect her to get any sleep. I need you to go ask Dr. Reynolds when he can fit me in, please.”

“Yes, ma’am, please hold.”

My boot’s tapping and I chew my nails, a habit I quit years ago, as I wait. If this hasn’t been an awesome day I don’t what has.

My entire body trembles when she returns to the line, snapping me from my spiraling thoughts. “Miss Porter?”

“Yes.”

“Dr. Reynolds said to come in at 10 am tomorrow. He’ll move things around for you.”

I exhale and let my shoulders relax a bit. “Perfect, tell him thank you. I’ll be there.”

After hanging up with her, of course my first instinct is to call Brady and see what he thinks, so he can tell me the possible meaning, options, etc., but I can’t do that,seeing as how only hours ago I told him to fuck off.

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