Page 9 of Must Have Been Love

When I finish my coffee – which involves pouring half of the cup into a nearby planter full of dead leaves – I walk back into the bar area to decide where I’m going to start with the clean up. I need to get supplies, both for the cleaning and so I have something other than stale black coffee to keep me going.

I walk behind the bar and go to pull the nearest cupboard open, only to scream out loud when my foot hits something on the floor, sending it scurrying across the dirty tiles.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, is that a rat? I swear it has a tail. My stomach turns as my heart starts to hammer against my chest like it wants to get the hell out of here.

I know the feeling.

“Oh my God,” I whisper. When I look down, the rat hasn’t moved. Not one inch. “Please don’t be dead,” I say. Because then I’ll have to feel sorry for it.

Did it die alone? Was it wishing it had somebody there holding it’s hand. Okay, it’s paw. Whatever, nobody should die alone.

Putting my big girl pants on, I prod the animal with my toe.

It still doesn’t move.

My stomach turns. Am I going to have to bury it? I don’t even know if there’s a shovel here. And I’m not throwing it in the trashcan. Even a rat deserves better than that.

Before I can make a decision a sound comes from the door. Like it’s being opened. Then a dog rushes in. Or at least I think it’s a dog. It’s huge and furry and looks more like a wolf than a friendly mutt.

Before I can say a word it rushes past me, behind the bar and lets out a low growl before it picks the rat up between it’s bared teeth.

I’m not gonna lie. I actually scream.

“Don’t eat it!” I shout. Because dead rats usually mean poisoned rats.

The dog, calmer now that it has the rat in it’s jaw, turns to look at me. If animals could look disdainful, this one would be the champion. It drops the rat and that’s when I see it’s actually a stuffed toy. A dog toy, I guess.

Belonging tothisdog?

“Hey,” I say, my heart rate finally calming. “Is this yours? You could have taken it before it gave me a heart attack.”

The dog lets out a low sound. Somewhere between a bark and a purr. And yes, I should be afraid. It’s an unknown beast, it could be dangerous.

And yet to my female-logic, it’s less scary than a dead rat that turned out to be a stuffie.

The dog nudges my leg with it’s nose.

“What is it?” I ask him.

He nudges me again, like he’s trying to push me out from behind the counter. And because I’m not an idiot, I let him.

“Okay,” I say as I back up. “But I’m only doing this to be nice. We’ve just met and I’ve already made one enemy on the island. I figure we should be fri— oh shit!”

I jump at the sight of a little girl standing in front of me, like she’s just appeared out of nowhere. She’s staring up at me with wide, saucer like eyes. She’s in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and her dark hair is neatly pulled into a pony tail.

“Hello?” I say warily, looking around for her parents. “I think you came in the wrong place, sweetie.”

The dog walks between me and the girl, the toy rat forgotten, like he’s trying to guard her.

“Is he yours?” I ask her.

The little girl nods. I’m not great with kids’ ages, but she looks like she might be five or six.

“Where are your parents?” I ask her, looking hopefully at the door. Surely they must be close.

She doesn’t reply. It’s kind of unnerving how direct her stare is. She has the most beautiful blue expressive eyes.

“Are they outside?” I ask her. “Because we aren’t open yet.”

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