Page 8 of Just Say (Hell) No
“Setwhatup?” Marko didn’t look at the paper. He didn’t have a good feeling.
“Animals,” she said. “SPCA. Adopt-a-shelter-pet campaign. Your softer side. Like I said.”
“I am not posing shirtless, holding puppies for some calendar,” Marko said. “I’m not a bloody firefighter. Just no. Justhell,no.”
“Course you’re not,” Brenda said. Soothingly. “Who said anything about shirtless? And if I wanted somebody for that, no worries, I’d have been asking Koti. He may be old, but he has the tattoo, and he has the magic. That’s what the ladies want to see. Anyway, you’ll want to get your skates on and get started. Soonest started, soonest done.” She gave him a cheery smile. “Easy-peasy.”
When Marko left the room, Koti was still with him. “You’re going to be holding puppies,” the other man informed him as they walked down the passage. “And no matter what Brenda says, you’ll be lucky to get out of it without taking off your jersey. They always want you shirtless. And women complain that men are shallow. It’s not the fellas who’ll be pinning that photo to the wall.”
“Nobody’s going to be pinning it anywhere,” Marko said, “because it’s not happening. And why are you still here?”
“To see what happens, of course.”
“Nothing’s going to happen.”
“I could go with you,” Koti said. “If you wanted to start today. Could help break the ice.”
“Thought you were meant to be collecting your wife.”
“You heard her. Five o’clock. She’s just started back to work. Two days a week. She wants her days. Says we’re all too demanding. New baby, eh.” Which made no sense to Marko, but he guessed it didn’t have to. “I still have an hour to go.”
“If I’m doing this,” Marko informed him, “I’m not doing it with an audience. No.”
Koti sighed. “Cuz. You’ll be doing it with an audience one way or another. I know the Highlanders’ idea of a PR opportunity is the boys touring the freezing works and taking a few whacks at a steer carcass with a cleaver, but you’re in the Big Smoke now. You’ll be lucky if they don’t oil you down for it.”
Marko didn’t deign to respond to that. He actuallyhaddone a couple PR appearances at a freezing works. What of it? You supported the local industry, like they supported you, and Dunedin wasn’t a glamour destination. “I’ll ring up and schedule it,” he said. “I’m not doing it today. I’m easing my way into it.”
“Don’t like puppies?” Koti asked. “Mate. Everybody likes puppies. You could get a dog out of it, too. Dog’s good. Companionship.”
“I don’t want a dog.” They were in the lift again, and Koti wasn’t going anywhere, so Marko said, “I like dogs fine. I grew up on a sheep farm. But I don’t want one. I live alone, and as you may have noticed, I travel. If you want a dog so much,youget a dog.”
“Maybe I will,” Koti said. “My daughter’s nearly three. She’d like a dog.”
If Marko weren’t such a disciplined man, he’d have his hands in his hair by now. Instead, he stepped out of the lift, pulled his phone out of his pocket, leaned against the wall, and rang up the number Brenda had given him. When he rang off three minutes later, he told Koti, “Five-thirty Thursday evening. You want to choose a dog for your daughter? You can come with me and do it. They can photograph you instead. With your jersey off. Oiled down. You’re welcome.”
That was why, on Thursday evening, he walked through the doors of the SPCA and into an echoing passage, tiled for easy cleanup, with Koti by his side. They stopped at a reception desk, and Marko told the middle-aged woman behind it, “Marko Sendoa. Here from the Blues to talk to Iona Corburt.”
The woman said, “I’m Iona. Stayed on specially tonight to introduce you to the photographer. Thanks for coming. And your friend’s welcome as well, of course.”
Marko said, “Cheers. His name’s Koti. He came to look at the dogs. Makes him happy.” He leaned closer and said in a confiding tone, “He enjoys the simpler things, if you know what I mean.”
“Oh,” Iona said, then added, a shift in her tone, “Of course you can look at the dogs, Koti. Do you play rugby as well?” As if she were talking to a five-year-old.
Mission accomplished.
“Yeh,” Koti said, for once appearing lost for words. “I do.”
Iona said, “If you boys will hang on a moment, I’ll run and find our photographer. She’s a volunteer, like me, but she’s accommodating your schedule anyway, which was kind of her, wasn’t it? Once I get you sorted, Marko, I’ll show your friend where the dogs are.” She smiled at Koti kindly. “You can stay and look as long as you like.”
Marko kept his composure until she’d left the room. Then he fell against the wall and began to laugh.
“Mate,” Koti complained. “That was cold. Am I meant to have taken one too many head knocks, or am I naturally a bit slow? It’d be good to know.”
“Never mind,” Marko said. “It’s lost half its sting. She didn’t know who you were. Bugger.”
He stopped laughing when Iona came back out again with somebody else behind her.
He wished he’d worn something more exciting than his warmups over his Blues uniform. Also that he’d shaved. He hadn’t wanted to give anybody any illusions that he was some kind of poster boy.
