Page 6 of Made For You

Beatrice comes over and gets on the couch beside me. She turns in a circle before falling down and putting her head on my lap. “We don’t like when people talk gibberish to us. Remember, that’s rule number one.” I pet her head, and she takes a deep huff. “So we are going to mind our business with the girl next door and not provoke her. Do you hear me?” I look down at Beatrice, who now perks up when she sees something. I make the mistake of looking out the window and I can see her auburn hair blowing in the wind. She stands on the dock with her phone in her hand as she holds it up, showing the boat. “Where is her husband?” I ask Beatrice, who tilts her head to the side as she looks outside, her tail hitting the couch. I watch my neighbor as she laughs, shaking my head.She’s getting too close to the edge, I think in my head, and it annoys me even more that I give a shit. “Like, who lets their woman bring all that shit onto the boat by herself?” I look down at Beatrice, who I swear gives me a smirk. “I wasn’t watching her, okay? She was making noise, and all I did was look over the bench, and I saw her, okay?” She gives me asurelook before she puts her head back down on my lap.

I turn my head to face the television, switching the channels, until I settle down on a golf game. “Tiger Woods, I think he’s going to make a comeback,” I state, slouching sideways. It takes me maybe ten minutes before I close my eyes and drift off to sleep, only waking when Beatrice jumps off the couch and walks over to the door and scratches the glass. I open my eyes, stretching. “What time is it?” I grab my phone and press the button on the side and it shows me it’s almost six o’clock. “Damn,” I curse, getting up. “Why did you let me sleep so long?” I ask Beatrice, who waits by the door. “Let me go to the bathroom and then we’ll leave,” I tell her, jogging down the steps going to the bathroom and then rushing back. “I even washed my hands,” I joke with her, grabbing the leash. “Now remember what I said.” I look down at her as I grab the handle of the door. “We don’t like new people.” I pull it open. “We don’t need friends.” I step out and slide my shoes on. “Smile and wave,” I mumble to her as I step off the boat with her following me. I force myself not to look onto her boat, even though my curiosity is killing me. I walk down the dock, my stomach grumbles when the smell of a barbecue grill fills the air. I take a second to look up and see that most of the people on the boats are starting to sit down and have dinner. I walk up the ramp and press the button. “Beatrice,” I call her name. “Leash,” I say, tying her up on her leash. In the morning, when it's dead, I don’t bother, but at night, more people are out, and just in case another dog gets loose, I can protect her.

We do our routine walk around the park, and when we get back, she’s panting for water. I step onto the boat, opening the back door, and she goes straight to her bowl. “Thirsty?” I ask her as I walk over to the fridge, grabbing my own bottle of water. I lean back on the counter and see the lights in the boat next door are on. “Guess they are staying on the boat tonight.” I look over at Beatrice, who walks over to her bed and lies down. “What do you want to eat for dinner?” I ask her, opening the fridge and grabbing stuff to make a salad, placing it on the counter before going back to the fridge. “Chicken or beef?” I ask her while I open the fridge, taking out the beef. “Beef it is.”

I turn on the television while I prep my salad. I put the lettuce, tomatoes, and cucumbers in a bowl on the counter, grabbing the steak and walking out to slap it on the grill. I open the door, take a step out, and stop in my tracks, with one hand on the door and the other holding the plate. She sits at the small table outside her door, which is right next to my grill. A glass of white wine is in the middle of the table, her feet on the chair next to her, as she looks down at the book in her hand. I’m about to take a step back when Beatrice barks and her head comes up.I’m going to kill her, I think to myself when she walks over to the side of the boat, trying to smell her from our side. “Hi there.” She smiles at Beatrice and then looks over at me. “Nice night, isn’t it?” she says, sitting up and all I can do is nod at her.

I move to the grill with the food, opening the top and starting it. I think about aborting this whole mission to eat my steak on the grill and just pan-frying it at this point. Her eyes are on me, and when I look up, she smirks. “What’s with the smirk?” I ask her without wanting to.

“Just trying to figure out if it’s me you don’t like or small talk.” She picks up her glass of wine and brings it to her lips. Her hair is tied on the top of her head in some sort of bun.

“I don’t even know you,” I tell her, cleaning the grill off. “So I can’t not like you.”

“So it’s the small talk you don’t like?” She puts her glass down on the table and I want to tell her that I don’t want to do any sort of talking, small or big. All I want to do is cook my steak, go inside, and then not talk to her for the rest of the night. I want to wallow in my own misery.

“Small talk is fine,” I grumble out, trying not to be the biggest asshole in the world, but hoping she catches the tune.

“You have a nice boat,” she compliments and all I do is nod at her. “I like the front part.”

“Thanks,” I respond, as I look over and see that Beatrice has her two front paws on the side of the boat and she’s almost leaning over to her boat. “What did I say?” I mumble quietly to Beatrice, who just looks at me and blatantly ignores me.

“Oh, I got you something,” she says, jumping up out of her seat, making Beatrice bark again because now she’s excited because the woman is clapping her hands together. Beatrice jumps off the side of the boat and turns in a circle around me. “Let me get it.” She turns around and I make the mistake of watching her walk away and she’s wearing yoga pants. The type that molds onto your body and you see everything, they should be illegal. Who designed these pants?

“You are in so much trouble,” I hiss at Beatrice. “What did we talk about before?” She looks at me and steps back and then looks over to the boat where Vivienne now steps back out.

She has two white boxes in her hand. “I got you this,” she says, walking over to the side of the boat. Beatrice beats me to the side and pushes her snout out to smell what Vivienne has in her hand. “Don’t you worry, pretty girl,” she assures Beatrice, with a smile on her face so big that her eyes get a touch lighter, “I got you something, too, because I like you the most.” She looks at Beatrice and then at me. I can’t even stop my feet from moving toward her. I walk over to the side of the boat as she holds out the big white box. My hands move to take the box from her. “It’s dessert. Sort of a ‘hi, neighbor’ kind of thing,” she tells me and I just stare at her and then the box.

“Isn’t it the other way around?” I ask her. “Wasn’t I supposed to get you a ‘welcome to the neighborhood’ thing?”

“Well, I wasn’t holding my breath.” She smiles at me and I can tell it’s the fakest smile I’ve ever seen. It’s more of a fuck-off smile than anything else, definitely much different than the look she is giving Beatrice. “Can I give her a c-o-o-k-i-e?” She spells out the word, looking at Beatrice.

Beatrice barks at her to answer her question. “She knows how to spell,” I tell her, holding the white box in my hand.

“I take it that is a yes?” she asks me, and I notice how green her eyes are. I nod at her and she ignores me and looks back at Beatrice. “Does the prettiest girl in the whole world want a treat?” she asks her, sitting on the side of the boat and I’m tempted to tell her she could fall in, but not my monkey, not my circus, I remind myself.

“I’m going to put this inside,” I inform her and look at Beatrice. “You can go and see her but you come right back,” I tell her and Beatrice looks at me. “Go,” I say with my head and she walks over and jumps onto the dock.

In a matter of seconds, she’s on the other boat. “I got you something special,” is the last thing I hear from her before I open the door and walk into the galley.

Walking over to the counter, I put the white box on the counter. “Why the fuck would she get me anything? I’m not going to eat this,” I state, more annoyed than anything. One, she called me on being an asshole, and two, she still got me something. I open the box and see she got me my fucking favourite, apple fucking pie with crumbles. “Motherfucker,” I grit between clenched teeth.

CHAPTER5

VIVIENNE

“You are solucky that you are a cute little girl.” I pet Beatrice while I give her one of the dog cookies I ordered from the same place my aunt Zara used to order from for her pups. “I got you more, but I’m only going to give you one. We mustn’t upset the master,” I tell her, laughing. “Can you imagine how much crabbier he can be if he’s upset?” I shake my head. “I don’t envy you.” I kiss the top of her nose as I hear the slider next door open and the grumpy man comes out.

“You bought me apple pie,” he huffs, coming back over to the side of the boat. When I came out here to have a glass of wine, I never thought I would see Mr. Grumpy again, but then he came out and I heard the bark.

“I did,” I confirm, trying not to let his mood get to me. Kill them with kindness is what I always learned growing up, and if that doesn’t happen, kick them in the balls. “Figured it was the safest choice.” He puts his hands on his hips and I ignore the way his shirt pulls across his chest. “If it insults you, I’m more than happy to take it back.”

He doesn’t say anything to me, instead he looks over at Beatrice, who has just finished her cookie and is now standing beside me as she smells my hand, licking it. “How many cookies did you give her?”

I smile at him, the big smile that shows him his mood does nothing for me. “I gave her one,” I tell him, walking over to the box on the table beside my wine. “There are five more in here.” I hand him the box. “You can give them to her when you please.”

His hand comes out to grab the box. “Thanks,” he mumbles.

I squat down and look at Beatrice. “Well, it’s the best I’m going to get.” I rub her neck. “Thank you for coming to visit me, Beatrice.”

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