Page 25 of Love Bank
My name on her lips almost made me pause again, but I was made of sterner stuff.
I had a war to win.
10
Lucille
“Clyde, I need you.”
I might get a kink in my neck keeping my cell phone wedged between my ear and my shoulder, but it was worth it. Multitasking was my bitch today, letting me get done a ton of work I’d neglected for too long. Currently, I logged new samples and updated insurance company information in our computer system while answering the phone call from the town’s one and only tow truck driver, Clyde.
Poor Ghia was deader than a doornail out there on Brinestone Way. After Bain got those two creeps to leave, I’d gone back out to start her up. Encouraging words and essential oil drops didn’t do the trick this time, so there I was, at the mercy of Clyde to get home tonight.
Despite the car trouble, I was having a fantastic day what with Bain showing up to hold up his end of the bargain. This blackmailing thing was working out much better than expected. I had the poor man on his knees, which gave me quite the thrill. I could literally see him on his knees, his face pressing against my—
“No can do, Miss Lucille.” Clyde’s voice boomed in my ear and I nearly dropped the damn phone. “I’m over on the other side of town hauling a tree off the cliffside. Must have fallen last night with all the wind we had.”
The breath left my body, leaving me defeated. “Well, shoot. If you get done quick, can you come on by tonight and get the car to the mechanic? Or maybe Monday morning first thing?”
“You bet, Miss Lucille. I’ll get her there, don’t you worry.”
“Thanks, Clyde. I appreciate it.” Wasn’t his fault he couldn’t get here in time to give me a ride home.
The computer screen in front of me blurred from too many hours staring at it. I’d lost track of time working and waiting for Clyde to call me back. My stomach let out a huge growl and I knew I needed to eat first, then tackle the rest of the administrative tasks that came with storing sperm.
My lunch sack clanked against my thigh as I shoved the back door open by putting my entire body weight into it. The wind last night had brought some higher humidity and now all the doors were sticking, requiring a level of muscle I didn’t seem to possess. Nothing a woman hated more than being reminded of her physical weaknesses than being bested by an inanimate object.
Lunch was a sad affair of half-wilted grapes, string cheese, and a sleeve of Ritz crackers. I hadn’t gotten around to grocery shopping in recent days and my nutrition intake was suffering because of it. I didn’t waste any time tucking into it, though. The sooner I got back to my desk, the sooner I could go home and enjoy what was left of my Saturday.
A loud squawk and flapping of wings nearby caused me to drop my grape with enough force to send it rolling off the table and across the concrete, all the way to the back wall of the patio. That damn seagull was back. Two of them this time, bigger than the cats next door, flew up in the air and swooped over the retaining wall to fight over my grape like some kind of beach vulture. I grabbed my lunch and scooted my chair all the way to the back door in case I needed to make a hasty escape. No way was I going to die like I starred in a Hitchcock movie come to life.
Three more of the sea dogs flew over the wall, their wings beating every which way and disturbing the peace. My cute little pot shaped like an elephant went rolling, spilling dirt along the way. One of the seagulls lifted its head, probably smelling my lunch, such as it was, and decided it wanted the meager food for itself.
I stood up, thinking making myself appear larger would help, but the darn thing kept me in its sights. They all began to move as one, coming toward me one little bird leg step at a time. My heart started beating wildly, sensing impending danger. I couldn’t rip my gaze from their ring leader, those beady eyes just daring me to look away. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a few more fly up over the wall and I knew I’d lost. The patio was now theirs to do with as they’d like.
My own damn patio taken away by seagulls.
I grabbed the door handle, nearly slipping right off with the way my hands were producing moisture. They were only a couple feet away now. I needed a distraction. I grabbed a handful of the crackers out of my lunch bag and threw them as hard as I could. The little disks landed three feet behind the seagulls, drawing their attention away. I used the resulting feeding frenzy to rip open the back door and fly through, slamming it shut behind me and flicking the lock. You know, in case seagulls learned how to open doors. Even then, a closed, locked door wasn’t enough protection for me. I ran down the hallway to the front of the clinic and slid to a stop by my chair. I dropped down onto the pleather and heaved out a sigh of relief.
A knock on the front window of the clinic had me scrambling for a weapon as I bolted upright yet again.
“You okay in there, Lucille?” Poppy’s muffled voice came through the window as I saw her peering in, her hands pressed to the glass to block any reflection.
I waved my cheese stick at her—the weapon I grabbed to defend my life—and walked over to unlock and open the front door. I’d locked it earlier, hoping to deter any further inmate visits while I was here alone on the weekend.
“What’s going on? I heard a strangled scream.” Poppy’s eyes and ears were wide open, waiting for something juicy she could really chew on.
I smiled sheepishly. “Just some seagulls trying to make me their lunch in the back patio.”
“I see.” Poppy narrowed her eyes at me. She didn’t see at all. Probably thought I was drinking on the job. “You’ve got a package outside the front door. Probably one of them shipping companies that don’t hand deliver.”
According to her, leaving a package on a doorstep was ruder than farting in church. Hand delivery or nothing.
I walked around her and went through the door, stepping out onto the sidewalk and spotting the box for those new specimen cups I’d ordered last week. Seeing the actual deposit splashed inside the specimen cup was unnecessary. Young Keva’s sensibilities needed to be considered. Hence the new opaque specimen cups. Hefting the box onto my hip, I dropped my cheese stick.
“Well, crap. There went my lunch,” I muttered.
A loud screech filled the air and had me racing back to the safety of the doorway with Poppy. I knew that sound now. Knew it well. Incoming seagulls. Apparently the back patio wasn’t enough for them. They wanted to take over my entire clinic. As for me, my feathers were unruffled. I’d become used to their chaos.
