Harlow
The rest of the workers are packing away all their tools as the truck pulls to a stop. Like excited children, they drop what they're doing and crowd around the vehicle until Miles puts his fingers in his mouth and blasts out a loud whistle.
“Get back to work, you lot. They can’t unload the cat if you don't tidy up all your shit.”
The driver hops out and comes around, brandishing a clipboard. “If you could sign to say it arrived, I’ll get to unloading it.”
I take it from him, and he goes around to the back and starts loosening all the tie-down straps. Dad jumps up and gives him a hand as I scribble a signature across the page.
With the truck’s hydraulic ramp, they maneuver the cage onto the ground and wheel it onto the grass.
As the driver goes about closing his truck back up, Wyatt steps closer. “That’s not going to be easy to wheel across to the enclosure.”
I smile at him and hand him the clipboard. “That’s okay. If you could ask your men to all move to one side and keep the noise down for a moment, I’ve got this.”
His eyebrows raise, but he does as I’ve asked. Grabbing the leash off the side of the travel cage, I reach through and clip it onto Nyx’s collar. Like the overgrown house cat she is, she’s standing up, looking around with curiosity but no aggression. I can’t wait for her to explore her structure. In the seconds that I’ve been interacting with her, the noise of men talking and tools clanking has completely dropped off; the air is so silent the drop of a pin could be heard. I want to torture them a little more with the suspense, but the poor girl deserves to go inside and see her new home. I open the cage, and she immediately steps out, rubbing against me in greeting.
“Holy shit.” I hear the whisper from somewhere around me as I rub behind her ears.
“Hey, baby girl,” I croon to her. “You've been such a good girl. Ready to see your temporary home?” Her temporary home is a million times better than her last one and will do nicely until we can get the zoo up and running.
We walk past the group of men whose expressions range from awestruck to terrified, and she doesn't stray except to stop and sniff at Wyatt’s feet. He eyes me, waiting for permission.
“Can I touch her?” he asks quietly, his tone of voice softer than I’ve heard it so far.
“Sure. Let her come to you, then hold your hand out so she can sniff you first.” He does as instructed, and his face lights up with a huge smile as she head butts his hand and rubs against him like she did to me. It transforms his whole face, going from grumpy but hot to laughing and gorgeous. Now he really looks like his brother.
“What’s her name?”
“Her name is Nyx, and she’s, from what we can work out, about a year old. Unfortunately, one of her previous owners had her declawed. It’s incredibly cruel to declaw a cat since it often leads to permanent issues. She looks to be fine at this stage, but I want to take some x-rays and have someone more experienced than me assess it.”
“Why is it cruel?” someone asks from behind me. The question is understandable, really, since it’s been such a common practice with house cats that people assume it has to be okay to do.
“When you declaw a cat, it’s not just a matter of cutting off the claws. They grow from the bone itself, so you have to remove that bone up to the last joint in the toe. Then you need to reattach the tendons. It'sincrediblyinvolved. That’s why it can easily go drastically wrong.”
The guy looks a little green once I finish explaining, but that’s probably for the best. Tugging on Nyx’s leash, I pull her away from her new best friend and bring her through the back door into the corridor. A quick walk later, we’re in the nighttime den. Closing the double door behind me, I unclip the leash and remove her collar before leaving the enclosure. I pull the handle to open the door to the outside section, but she explores her current surroundings first, cautiously sniffing at the tree stumps the guys have left her.
Leaving her be, I exit the back area and walk around to the front where everyone has gathered. “I’m not sure if she’ll venture out or not,” I explain, seeing the way they’re expectantly waiting in front of the cage.
“Alright, you heard the lady. Get your stuff packed up and get out of here. You can’t wait all night,” Miles orders, which I’m grateful for. Nyx may be acting like a house cat, but I want her to be free to figure out that she’s in a safe space where her other instincts could come out. She’s already learned a lot of behavior from her owners, but with some freedom, she might also remember the instincts they tried to train out of her.
The crew grumbles, but Miles seems to have gained their respect. Quickly, they snap back into business mode. “Are these all your workers?” I ask him as we watch them all pack away.
“No, our company consists of only the four of us at the moment. I put out a call to an old colleague in the LA area, and with what Brad was offering to pay them, it was easy to find skilled workers.” There’s a hint of something in his voice that wasn’t there before, almost a little bite of aggression, which has me wondering. Before I can ask any other questions, he sighs and physically gives himself a shake. “Sorry, I’m a little defensive. We had a crew, but circumstances changed. We’re… Well, we’re from a small-minded community, and when they decide something, there’s often no changing their minds despite the reality not being what they think it is.” That’s just vague enough that I really don’t have much of a clue about what he could mean, but what Iamfamiliar with is being judged by people whose minds are a lot smaller than I ever care to deal with again.
His body language starts to stiffen with each passing moment of silence, and I can see his expression becoming more guarded. Well, shit. Dad’s not the only one with poor social skills sometimes. Nice job, Harlow, just freak the guy out, why don’t you?
“Miles, let me tell you something. Small towns aren’t the only ones who jump to conclusions and judge people on perceived truths. As long as you’ve disclosed anything of importance and relevance to Dad, I have no problems with you guys taking the job. I only asked because you’ll need a much bigger crew than four for the next job we have for you.”
He visibly relaxes once more, and I give myself a mental pat on the back for remembering how to actually people. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans and nods. “Let’s work out the particulars before I advertise. I also know one or two guys from back home who would probably relocate for the job too.”
“I’ll speak to Nana about arranging accommodations. I know they usually put people up at the Neighpalm Hotel in LA, but that’s not going to work for this project. I’m sure she can find somewhere close by even if we have to rent a house.” He looks like he’s going to argue with me, but I hold up a hand. “It’s not charity. It’s usually included as part of the package of employment, and, in case you haven’t noticed yet, my grandparents and dad aren’t shy about using their resources when they want a job to be done. Really, you’re the ones doing them a favor by providing such dedicated labor.”
The rest of his crew joins us after waving off the other guys. Dad had disappeared after I unloaded Nyx, so I’m assuming he went back to the house to talk to Thomas about the background checks and catch up with the others. I can see one of the security guards out of the corner of my eye. He’s being discreet, but he can see me from where he is and quickly get to me if need be.
With no one else around, I decide to have a quick conversation with the four brothers. ”Look, I don't know your circumstances, and I don't really care, but let me give you a little piece of advice. The Summers family really is like no other out there. They’re willing to take a chance on you guys, and you need to grab this by the hand and run with it. Dad is going to offer you the chance to name yourselves Neighpalm Construction, or whatever you want to call it, and allow you to retain all rights and earnings, in exchange for you doing this job for me.” The guys look so shocked I could knock them down with a feather. Wyatt, of course, already has a firm set to his lips that promises an argument, so I rush to cut him off. “You’ll also be paidextremelywell for this job, as will your crew. You would be nuts not to take this.”
“Why are you telling us this now?” Ethan asks, his face masked with a level of seriousness that seems much more suited to his brother.
