Page 52 of Shattered Chords

“Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Javier deadpanned.

My attitude never phased him. I suppose wired and sober me was still better than high and out-of-control me.

“What are you, my mother?” I snapped. That was a crappy comparison. These days, my mother didn’t want anything to do with me unless it involved a fat check. The bitter truth was that no one cared about me the way parents usually cared about their children...the way Camille hovered over her daughter.

I wasn’t really loved. Not the way I wanted to be. Not by the people who mattered.

“I got it,” Javier said flatly. “You need anything else?”

I had to think about his question for a second because my mind blanked. Yet again. The new fucking normal. “No.” Then I schooled my tone into cheerful and added, “Thanks.”

After we said our goodbyes, I rose from the chair and went inside. The walls of the house suddenly started to close in on me and there was a long moment that I simply stood in one spot with my head swimming and my body frozen. I stared into the empty stretch of hallway that led to the back of the house, where a woman I paid was doing my laundry.

Yes, money could buy almost anything. Almost.

“Is everything okay, Mr. Martinez?” Yanneth asked as she emerged from one of the rooms.

I cringed a little at how she addressed me. Years later, it still felt too formal for someone who came from the slums. “Yeah. Yeah.” I nodded and patted my pockets, searching for a cigarette. Then I remembered I didn’t smoke anymore.

“Okay. I’ll be done here in a little bit.” She set something on the small console table by the wall and disappeared into the laundry room to finish her task.

Right, we had a cooking lesson appointment.

I walked the length of the hallway and looked at the item she’d apparently salvaged from the pocket of my jeans. A flyer from the Sunday car wash. I picked it up and read the headline.

Ready to Settle Down?

Below it was a color photo of a puppy with a button nose, one ear flicked up, paw toward the camera as if offering it for a handshake.

The next morning after the hike with Malik, I headed out to Simi Valley.

I questioned my intentions throughout the duration of the drive and almost turned around halfway to the shelter, but Camille’s words came back to haunt me again.

You leave tons of damage behind. And you never come back to clean up your mess.

My ego suddenly roared, and that’s how I found myself parked in front of a shabby-looking brick building with a sign above its entrance that readBrightSidean hour later. The hand-painted letters were chipped in multiple places, which made it difficult to figure out what it said unless you put some major effort into deciphering what once might have been an ambitious artistic endeavor.

Even in the confines of my Navigator with its windows rolled up, I could hear muffled noises coming from within the walls of the building.

And occasional barking.

Adjusting my shades, I fished a lollipop from the front pocket of my shirt, unwrapped it, and stuck it between my lips. It didn’t really help to calm my nerves.Sugar’s got nothing on cocaine.

But I knew that already.

A frustrated feeling rose within me as I climbed out of my car and into the sweltering California heat. My gaze darted to the entrance of the shelter. It was a glass door and I could see several silhouettes moving inside, strangers going on about their business.

The parking lot was bare, no trees or shade, and the sun was beating down on me without mercy. A hot gust of air ruffled the dry grass, and when I looked into the distance, the shapes farther away on the horizon appeared to be melting.

I squeezed my eyes shut for a second, then hurried toward the door.

The main lobby was small, with dozens of posters of cats and dogs on the walls. Across from the entrance was a reception area, and a younger girl with short, dark hair sat behind the cluttered circular desk.

“Hi, welcome to BrightSide,” she rattled off, lifting her gaze from whatever she was doing.

“Hello, little lady.” I neared her, hooking my thumb into the front pocket of my jeans. “Just wanted to check out this place.” A shrug.

“Are you looking to adopt a pet today?” she asked, her tone friendly and open.

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