“Hmm? I have a pen in here somewhere.”
“Get in the car.”
She rests a tentative hand on the door while the dachshund tries to clamber his way to the top of my head.
I can’t take it.
“This has been such a fucking waste of my time. Who is even going to care that there’s a picture of me buying cupcakes or whatever the hell you just spent two hundred dollars on?”
“There’s a theory in public relations that—”
“Don’t care.”
I grab her bag while she protests and toss it and the box of pastries into the car. Then I drag Truman from where he’s trying to crawl down the back of my collar and toss him onto the seat. Not too hard. Those dachshunds are so inbred you have to be careful of their spines.
“Oh, he’ll eat those.” Jenna’s holding her skirt and trying to reach for the box and pull it away from the dog, who has just won the snack lottery.
“Let’s put it in the front seat so that—eep!”
I grab the back of her dress and toss her onto the seat and climb in after her while she scolds me.
“Don’t touch people without their permission.”
“Thought I wasn’t supposed to call people a cunt or tell them to suck my dick without permission. You can’t keep moving the goalposts, Cupcake. Sarge. Let’s roll.”
Truman hops up, back paws on the seat back, front two paws on my shoulder, the crumbs from the dessert he’d managed to steal cascading down my dark suit.
“Cupcake…”
“Next we’re going to get your photo op with the senior citizens,” she says, chattering as she fastens her seat belt.
“Your dog…”
“What’s the address, ma’am?”
“This is absurd!” I bellow.
The dog barks at his reflection in the window, spraying mushy crumbs all over my neck.
“Take me back to the office, Sarge. I’ve wasted enough time today, and—”
“The flower shop.” Jenna interrupts me while digging in the little backpack on her Stanley cup. “You’ll show up with several large bouquets, the colors will pop, and the elderly women will love getting flowers from a big handsome man. Here’s that wet wipe!”
I grimace as she reaches over to clean my cheek. “Everyone will love you.”
“This is so stupid. Can’t I just make a donation and go home?”
“People want to see your bright and smiling face.”
“You should take your shirt off, Mac,” Sarge says, smirking in the rearview mirror. “That will earn you a lot of points.”
“Shirt on, please,” Jenna says firmly.
“You sure about that?” My voice drops, and I let my gaze linger on her because I know it will make her uncomfortable. “Is someone wishing she reconsidered my offer?” I lean in to purr into her neck.
Though it would probably be more impressive if I didn’t have a noisy dog superglued to my shoulders.
Truman licks her nose.
