Susan Donovan: Take a Chance On Me

"But-"

"I'm living in an issue-free zone from here on out."

Velvet rolled her eyes. "And as a former social worker, I can tell you there is no such thing as an 'issue-free' man, so you might as well give it up."

Emma smiled, replacing a two-liter soda jug in the refrigerator. "I believe you've shared that insight with me on more than one occasion."

"Fine," Velvet huffed. "So what are your options?"

Emma looked at her watch. She had five minutes until her next patient and fantasized about spending three of those minutes in the privacy of the women's bathroom. So that left two minutes for Velvet's daily Cosmo Girl chat. She supposed she could survive two minutes.

"I have lots of options."

"Uh-huh. So let's hear what you've got planned for the weekend." Velvet's dark, crescent-shaped eyes widened a bit and her little lipsticked mouth knotted up into a smirk. Emma could tell she expected to hear the usual list of boring activities.

So she gave it to her.

"I thought we'd all go to the tractor pull Friday night. Leelee has a geography bee competition at the community college Saturday. I'll go riding Sunday."

"Wow," Velvet said, nodding in mock approval. "You're really gettin' jiggy with it."

Emma laughed. "Honestly. I'd much rather spend my weekend with my goofy father, a brainiac preteen, and a traumatized horse than with Mr. Traffic Court, thanks."

She turned to leave but Velvet touched her arm. "Em."

She shrugged her off. "We'll talk about my wild love life later, okay? I've got Mrs. Kline's psycho killer Springer Spaniel waiting for me."

"I just want you to have some fun. That's all."

Emma sighed. "I do have fun, Velvet!"

"I mean with a man."

Emma stared at her in defeat. She knew Velvet meant well. She'd been her assistant since the practice opened four years ago, and a dear friend and a hard worker from day one. And since Emma showed Aaron the door last year, Velvet had tried to find a social life for her, often enlisting the help of her boyfriend, Marcus.

The results had been… peculiar.

There was the beverage wholesaler who recommended total-body piercing as the path to sexual nirvana. There was the glass blower who slept under a pyramid-shaped canopy to harvest cosmic energy. There was the financial planner who suggested Emma join the Howard County Conservative Council.

A girl had to draw the line somewhere.

Not that her own choices had been stellar. Since she filed for divorce, she'd dated a few men she believed shared similar interests. The veterinary pharmaceutical sales rep lasted a month, until he got transferred and got married. The fact that he'd been engaged had apparently slipped his mind.

She started seeing a vet she and Aaron knew from the University of Pennsylvania. But he lived in Salisbury, and she decided it was a long way to drive for a date, especially after the night she arrived at the appointed time only to find him getting a full-body massage from his summer intern. The intern was clad only in a thong, and Emma guessed it had nothing to do with the office casual-Friday policy.

After that, she'd just said to hell with it and went out on a few dates with the carpenter she'd hired to do some work around the farm. He was funny and cute and looked superb in a tool belt, but apparently forgot to pay the child support he owed to three different women and was currently enjoying a sabbatical at the Maryland Correctional Training Center in Hagerstown.

At least he wrote.

"You're thirty-four years old, Em! You're approaching your sexual peak! You need a man!" Velvet lowered her voice. "It's just not natural to be without one at your age."

Emma patted Velvet's mostly bare shoulder. "Tell Marcus thanks but no thanks." She turned to go.

"At least Thomas Tobin has his follow-up in two weeks!" Velvet offered brightly. "That's something to look forward to, right?"

Emma spun on her heels and gawked at Velvet. "Don't even think about trying to set me up with an owner! Besides, that guy is way beyond 'not normal'-he's just plain strange! He's like some kind of robot. I'm not interested."

"But…"

"Let's not talk about Thomas Tobin anymore, all right? I don't think I like him." She headed out the door.

"Yeah, but if you put a mustache on him he'd look like a blond version of Tom Selleck back in his heyday!" Velvet nearly shouted out the lunchroom door. "I wouldn't care if he were an axe murderer!"

"A studly robot axe murderer," Emma mumbled to herself, reaching for the ladies' room door. "Sounds like the plot of a good movie."

"It is!" Velvet shouted back. "Haven't you ever seen The Terminator?"

" Time to get happy, Hairy."

Not this again.

Hey! Don't drop me, Big Alpha! Uh-oh. Here comes that hard little pebble thing shoved into a tiny piece of cheese… do you think I'm stupid? That I really believe this is some sort of treat? Ack! And who told you that squishing my throat is going to help it go down any easier?

Fine. I swallowed it. Hope you're satisfied.

"Nice going, pal."

Thomas studied the dog for a moment and frowned. They'd just finished another five-minute round of relaxation exercises, but damned if he could tell if the little mutant was relaxing any. All he knew was that his knees hurt like hell and it was Emma Jenkins's fault-she said he had to kneel while working with Hairy because the dog was intimidated by his size.

Thomas sighed and studied the ugly thing. Sure, dogs were basically stupid, but he had to admit that Hairy seemed to get the general drift of the exercises. He'd held the tiny piece of Beggin' Strip behind his back, said, "Hairy, sit!" and, "Hairy, look!" then moved the treat next to his eye and Hairy made eye contact and sat still just like he was supposed to. Then he got the treat. And this was supposed to relax him.

What are you staring at, Big Alpha? It makes me yawn. That's what I do when I'm unsure about things. That and pee. But I'm trying. I really am.

Wait. This is new. Your hands-which are twice the size of Slick's, by the way-are petting me. Softly. It feels good on my skin. Warm and smooth and nice and my tail's wagging because that's what I do when I'm happy.

"All right, Hairy. We've got to have a little man-to-man chat."

Your eyes are a little nicer, too, but I wish you'd smile. I'd feel better about hanging out here in thin air if you'd just smile.

"I got a bunch of guys coming over to play cards tonight and I don't think you're exactly their kind of dog, know what I'm saying?"

I guess it's back to the cave.

"You'll be safe in your crate. We might get a little loud, but we won't hurt you. I'll take you out for a walk when they leave. Okay, buddy?"

Yeah, okay. I don't mind the cave. At least you put a fluffy blanket in here. I guess you're trying to be nice. I guess you're not like the bad man who hurt Slick. I try not to think about my owner much, because it makes me lonely and scared and I start shaking more, which makes me pee.

Thomas closed the door to the crate, draped an old pillowcase over the top, and headed to the entertainment center.

Here comes that strange, sad music again-nothing like the real music Slick and I love so much, the kind that makes us feel like dancing!

I miss him. I miss my sparkling red suit with the matching collar. I miss dancing. I wonder when I'll get to see Soft Hands again.

She felt so nice to snuggle up with.

"Just don't ever get married or we won't have anywhere to play cards. Any microbrews left in the fridge?"

Thomas peered through the gray-blue cigar fog that hung over the dining room table and narrowed his eyes at Vince Stephano. "I'm never getting married and I'll never run out of good beer on poker night," he said impatiently. "You gonna ante up or just sit there and bitch like you do at the office… sir?"