"Skittles?"
"No."
"Midas?"
"Maybe."
"Bruno?"
"No."
"Gomer?"
"Maybe."
"Jigsaw?"
"You are not naming him after a character in that movie."
Another sigh. "Fine. Yoda?"
"Ooh, I kind of like that one. He looks like a Yoda, doesn't he?" I asked, propping myself onto my elbows to look at the unnamed puppy. He was busy taking a nap on the grass five feet away from us.
His big face was all scrunched up in a deep sleep, and he totally looked like freaking Yoda. Tristan snorted, and I saw him prop himself up on his hands to look at his new buddy. "He does look like a Yoda."
It'd been five days since Tristan adopted the mastiff-mix from the shelter, and the poor dog had been called everything from Sugarpop to Spot to Wesley. I finally had to tell Tristan that he needed to decide on a name before the poor baby had an identity crisis. Everyday, Tristan had dropped by my apartment to pick me up and take me over to his house after work so we could spend time with his son. After the pee-incident in the Audi, I sensed the hesitation in Tristan's body language when he first walked into his house. I think he expected to see the worst, but the gigantic baby was an angel in his crate. We'd taken him for walks around the block, but mainly, we hung out in the spacious backyard and laid around. Every once in awhile, we tried to teach Sugarpop/Spot/Wesley how to play fetch. It wasn't going so well.
At that moment, we were plastered on the grass with the late afternoon sun warming our skin. It was kind of wonderful out there. Two huge trees loomed over the backyard, the grass was cut short, and Tristan had been training the future Yoda to poop in the same section of backyard, so we could pretty much lay down anywhere and be safe from his huge shits.
Tristan made a funny noise from his spot a couple of feet away. "I think Yoda it is," he paused, before turning to look in the puppy's direction. "Yoda!"
Big brown eyes looked up in Tristan's direction when the name was called out. His huge head tilted in a way that looked like he was asking what was going on. I'd grown to really, really like the big boy in the time I'd been around; he was the sweetest thing. Even though he farted every ten minutes, I thought he was awesome. It was even more awesome that he followed me around everywhere instead of Tristan. When we sat on the couch, Tristan on one side and me on the other, he'd go and stick his big head right in front of one of our faces to get our attention. Matlock, on the other hand, was not so fond of the dog smell when I got home every night.
"Kat?" His voice was softer than usual.
"Hmm?"
"I'm really glad we're friends," he said, and it was enough to make me tear my eyes away from Yoda licking his butt-hole in order to look at him instead.
I was sure the smile on my face was so big and goofy that it looked like my face might get stuck like that, but his words seemed so sincere and sweet that I couldn't help it. "Me too, Mag."
Chapter29
"Do you think she has a bun in the oven?"
I made a noise of disbelief in my throat while simultaneously keeping my eyes on the road— I also didn't trust Zoey to multitask safely. Driving and talking was much harder for her than talking on the phone and ironing, which she had failed at spectacularly on several occasions. "No way, they've only been seeing each other for how long? Two weeks?"
Nicole had called earlier in the day demanding that we meet at a pub down the street from her place. Zoey and I were at the gym when I answered, and as soon as I told her that I wasn't in the mood to go out, she threatened to change the password to her online porn subscriptions. That bitch. She claimed she had something very important to tell us. Which was exactly why Zoey and I were brainstorming ideas as to what could be that important.
"Maybe she got a promotion at work?" Zoey chirped up, taking a sharp right turn that made my toes curl.
Nicole worked at the same law firm that her dad owned, so that could have been a big possibility. "Yeah, maybe or knowing Nikki, she probably managed to deep-throat Calum and wants to celebrate."
Zoey snickered and nodded, while steering her Beetle into a small spot on the street. "Maybe she's getting a sex change?"
We'd joked around about Nicole being more of a man than a woman because of the sheer size of her imaginary balls. People at work called her Nicole "The Ball Buster" Jonasson because of her take-no-shit attitude. Men cowered in fright from her like they rightfully should. Last Christmas, Josh bought her a set of those metal balls that guys hung off the back bumpers of their trucks as a joke.
We were out of the car and through the door of the pub a few minutes later, still thinking up ideas as to what Nicole could have been wanting to announce. It wasn't too packed considering there was a baseball game on the large screens mounted over the bar. I spotted Nikki's tall frame in a back corner and pointed in her direction before Zoey poked my side, gesturing toward the bar.
