Susan Donovan: Take a Chance On Me

He started to feel queasy.

"Do you have any questions at this point?"

"No."

"Are you all right?"

"Perfect, thanks."

Emma spent the next forty minutes demonstrating the relaxation exercises and working with Thomas and Hairy until they got it right. She was pleasantly surprised to see that Thomas caught on rather quickly.

After making sure the urine test results were normal, she walked Thomas and Hairy to checkout, where she gave them their discharge instructions, shopping list, follow-up schedule, and prescriptions.

Then she slipped into the back hallway, leaned against the wall, and closed her eyes tight.

She felt like she'd been hit by a truck.

What had just happened in there? A grouchy dullard with some sort of personality disorder had just made her hormones throb, her skin tingle, and her panties smolder. It was as if her body had been on autopilot, responding to pheromones and electrical charges that had nothing to do with polite behavior or even common sense.

Could it be that a man too cool to smile had made her hot, hot, hot for the first time in she didn't know how long?

Could it be that she'd felt a jolt of connection with that man? An instant affection, even? How was that possible?

"Woo, Emma! That was one fine specimen!" Velvet Miki leaned her petite body up against the wall next to Emma and giggled.

"He's a nut job," Emma said, slowly opening her eyes.

"Hon, I wasn't talking about the little d-o-g-I was talking about the big hunk of m-a-n." Her assistant then shoved the next patient's chart toward her, and Emma read that Harpo the self-mutilating parrot was preening himself bloody again.

"So was I, Velvet," Emma said, staring ahead blankly. "So was I."

"Damn you, Slick, you sneaky dead fembot!"

Thomas sat in the Wit's End parking lot and thumped his forehead against the car steering wheel, feeling a pair of soulful eyes follow his every move. He glared toward the passenger seat.

"Is there some other way in which I might be of service to you?" he asked the dog. "Speak up, pal. I'm all ears."

Uh-oh.

You don't like me much, do you, Big Alpha? I'd like it better if you took me back in there to the lady with the soft hands.

"You know what I'd like, Hairy? I'd like you to get a grip on yourself. Move on with your life."

Move on? If you'd only heard that bad man's voice, smelled all the anger in him, saw how he banged Slick's head with the blender!

And the noise! The blender kept screeching and whizzing! It hurt my ears! My brain! I hate the blender! I hate the blender! I miss my master! I miss my home!

Uh-oh.

I just peed again.

"Jesus, Hairy!"

I'm such a bad dog.

Thomas swiped the leather seat with the towel he'd learned to provide for car trips, then he rolled his forehead back and forth on the steering wheel and sighed. The horn blared, and Thomas shot up with a start. He turned toward the dog again.

"Look, ace. I'm sorry Slick's dead and you ended up with me."

Tell me about it.

"But it was either me or the business end of a gas pipe, so how about you take your happy pills so I can convince some idiot to give you a home. Sound like a plan?"

Hairy shook some more, then stared at the door latch.

"I'm not cut out for dog ownership. Nothing personal. I work odd hours. I've got too much stress in my life. And I'm not a very nice man, so I'm only thinking of your welfare. Besides, I don't like animals. Hell, I don't even like human beings."

The car phone rang.

"Tobin. What?"

"Good afternoon, Miss Manners-how'd the lobotomy go?" Rollo laughed uproariously into the phone.

"The dog's or mine?" Thomas pulled out into Columbia traffic and headed toward Baltimore. With luck, he could deposit Hairy at his townhouse and get back to court by two for the rest of the Leo Vasilich suppression hearing.

Poor Leo. Talk about women troubles! That guy was the poster boy for what can happen when a man lets his guard down with a female-he ends up facing three to five of hard time.

"I can't believe you actually took that hairless rat to a psychiatrist, Thomas. How much did it set you back, anyway?"

"Two-fifty."

"No way! The guy should be arrested for extortion."

"Yeah, well, the guy is an actual veterinarian and he's a she with a great set of… a great setup out here. Anyway, that's just for the office visit and the drugs. It doesn't even count the ultrasound or the supplies I've got to get."

"You mean Hairy's going on doggie downers?"

Thomas riffled through the brochures and workbooks strewn across the seat until be found the little white prescription bag. "Uppers. Downers. Hell if I know." He read the instructions. "Amitriptyline, one-quarter of a ten-milligram tablet twice daily for depression and anxiety. Xanax as needed for panic."

"No freakin' way."

"Better dog living through chemistry, Rollo. Plus, I have to do some kind of retraining program and spring for a crate, a few little sweater outfits, some kind of special food and medicated shampoo and skin lotion shit, plus a pair of clippers, maxi pads, a baby toothbrush, and God knows what else. I better win at poker Friday night, that's all I got to say."

"This is nuts, man! Isn't there some kind of shelter or rescue place you can take him?"

Thomas said nothing, and glanced over at Hairy. The dog had edged toward the passenger door in an effort to get as far away from Thomas as possible, and now stared down at the black tufted seat of the Audi, bony shoulders quivering.

A big lump of guilt lodged in Thomas's throat.

"Hey, Rollo? We had some pretty wild parties at the Theta Chi house, didn't we?"

"Absolutely. But what's that got to do with-"

"Did I ever get drunk and try to eat a baseball?"

The line went silent for a moment before his brother-in-law cleared his throat. "Uh, are you all right, man?"

Thomas knew he was a lot of things-beaten down with guilt over Slick's death, sporting a hard-on for a pet shrink with a fascinating braid, warm smile, and exceptional breasts, and completely baffled by how his life had turned into a never-ending episode of The Jerry Springer Show- but "all right" he was not.

"I'm fabulous," he said. "See you Friday. Don't forget my Cohibas."

"Wait! Don't hang up!"

Thomas sighed in annoyance because that's precisely what he was trying to do. "I gotta go, man."

Rollo's voice lowered to a whisper. "Did you just say maxi pads?"

Emma stood over the lunchroom sink and wolfed down a piece of cold pizza, trying to ignore Velvet's commentary.

"Oh, come on, Em!" The veterinary assistant licked at her yogurt spoon with quick, feline strokes of her tongue. "He's a guaranteed good time. Marcus said you two have a lot in common. He's legally separated. He was cleared of that insider-trading thingy. And he'll be getting his license back soon, so this will probably be the only time you'll have to drive."

Emma nearly gagged on a piece of crust and stared at Velvet in disbelief.

"He sounds like a real prince, but no. Seriously. I've come to the conclusion that Marcus and I just aren't looking for the same thing in a man."

"Uugghhh!" Velvet bounced up from her chair and teetered on her clunky sling-backs until she reached the trash can. She washed off her spoon and leaned against the cabinets, arms crossed over her chest. "Not 'normal' enough for you, I take it?"

Emma stopped chewing and stared at Velvet for a moment. She tossed the rest of her pizza in the trash and wiped her mouth with a paper napkin. "You got it, Velvet-not normal enough. Any man who can't keep a driver's license has issues, and as we've discussed, I'd rather be alone than be with a man who has issues."