“Perhaps you two forgot what happened on Thanksgiving.”
“Oh, yeah.” Terrance grimaced, the memory now fresh in all our minds. “That was not a good day to be in my pants.”
“No,” Betsy confirmed. “It definitely was not.”
Breeze blew into the kitchen, her hair a gush of auburn curls and her skin highlighted in a sunny glow. I always admired the beauty in my girl, but today – oh, man, she had me awestruck. How was it I could fall deeper and deeper in love with her every day?
Gulping back my appreciation, I spoke between mouthfuls of crackers. “Damn, woman, you’re a smoke show.”
Her lashes fluttered ever so flirty-like, and when she stretched up in her slip-on Vans and planted a kiss on my willing lips, I was a goner. Everything about her was a cool, crisp wonder. God, I was so lucky.
“Are these jeans too tight?” she asked, rearranging them on her hips. “The struggle was real.”
“Babe, in my expert opinion, they’re not tightenough.”
“Good answer.” She laughed. “Of course, I’m not sure how much weight I can give your opinion. You did get turned on last night when I was wearing that green facemask.”
“Hey,” I countered. “You looked sexy… in a gangrene sort of way.”
“Ah, true love,” Terrance mused.
“They remind me of us when we were young,” Betsy sighed, before drawing her daughter into her arms. “Sweetie, you look like you’re smiling from the inside out.”
“I am,” Breeze replied, beaming as she settled her gaze on me. “I never thought I could be this happy.”
Nor had I. The past year with Breeze had surpassed expectations. After the end ofAnyDayNow, life had taken one unexpected turn after another. Since I’d been coming from an environment where every last minute of my day had been accounted for, Breezehad been the sorely needed shock to my system. Being by her side was like living in a Technicolor movie. Everything was brighter and more in focus than ever before… and ours was a show I never wanted to end.
True to my word, Breeze and I traveled across country in a rented motorhome. Touring the world with the guys, I thought I knew everything it had to offer, but that was before I got to experience it through Breeze’s spirited eyes. Suddenly, the Banana Museum seemed as interesting a place to visit as Buckingham Palace.
“Oh, crap!” The meatball Terrance had been preparing to consume had taken an unexpected death plunge to the ground, and as he bent down to pick it up, he was met with snarling and snapping as a set of menacing two-millimeter teeth prepared to devour him whole.
Delivering hushed instructions, I bravely stepped between the two warring factions. “Terrance, do exactly as I say. Slowly back away from the dog. That’s it, nice and slow.”
As Breeze’s father retreated to safety, I narrowed in on my tiny nemesis – Satan’s cocksure Chihuahua himself – Little Dick Beckett.
“You really want to do this?” I asked him, more as a challenge than a question.
His demonic growling told me oh yes, he really did. To my archenemy, the tasty meatball was worth a bloody round of combat. But I’d learned a thing or two about dealing with His Furry Highness, and all of it included protective oven mitts.
“LD…” Breeze began to reason with the canine. “You’re on a strict diet…”
“No offense, Breeze, but it’s a meatball. Any chance you had of making a deal with the devil went away when it hit the floor. Now, step aside. Let the pro handle this.”
She laughed and waved her hand. “By all means. Please, handle as you see fit.”
Grabbing the oven mitts, I advanced, ready to scoop him up and deposit him into the dog crate that had become his kingdom. But Little Dick wasn’t going down without a fight, and grabbing hold of the top of the gloves, he shook his head back and forth like a big cat violently shakes its prey to a bloody demise. Suddenly the idea of my severed fingers crammed inside his vindictive mouth wasn’t so appealing, and I scrambled backward. Little Dick took advantage of my hasty retreat to gobble up the meatball, and then casually walked away as if our confrontation had meant nothing to him.
“God, he sucks,” I complained. “Why can’t we get a normal Breeze-type dog? You know, like the ones that crawl out of manholes with a single eyeball dangling off their foreheads. Because, seriously, dealing with a mixed-breed Cyclops would be easier to handle than that shithead.”
Breeze gave me that look – the one that said I had no right to complain. It was, after all, my fault we were now Lucifer’s next of kin. Just before Breeze and I set out on our cross-country motorhome trip nearly a year ago, we’d received a frantic call from the Kufrin family, pleading for us to take their little menace in. Even though their home had not sustained fire damage, it would take months for the utilities to be restored to that area, so the family had been forced to move into a rental.
As expected, the arrogant Chihuahua, formally known as Sweetpea, immediately made the wrong impression on… well, every living soul he came in contact with, and suddenly, those teeth of his were sending him on a collision course with euthanasia.
There had been no question in our minds that we’d give the pup a home. Little Dick was a part of our story, and for better or worse, he’d always have a safe haven with us. Besides, at night, tuckered out after a day of diabolical plotting, Little Dick would always curl up on my lap just like he had the night of the fire and fall fast asleep. And then I loved him – more than I cared to admit.
* * *
Breeze knocked me in the leg for the twelfth time since Mason and Dane had started in on a conversation that looked like it might end with a visit to a Motel 6. That smug I-told-you-so expression on her face said it all. Since that first concert when I’d gathered Breeze, her parents, Mason and my newly resurrected family in Los Angeles for one ofAnyDayNow’s last performances, she’d insisted the two were meant to be. And yes, they’d hit it off at the first concert, but Dane was busy with the tour and Mason was struggling through withdrawal. Both had gone their separate ways – until now.
