Dahlia.
My Doll.
I’m sure I’ll ruin the little flower.
But I don’t care.
Now that I’ve seen her, I have to have her.
4
Dahlia
I’m in heaven.
I’ve been at Vivian’s for a few days. So far, my time with the dogs has gone by without incident, and I can only imagine it getting better, now that the weekend is almost here.
For starters, this condo complex is a short walk from the main veterinary sciences building on campus. Skipping my subway rides from Brooklyn means no cramming myself into a packed subway car just to make my morning lectures, no rush hour delays, and no weird body odors curling up my nose, threatening to make me gag or pass out for a forty-five-minute ride that feels like a lifetime.
Being able to skip Brooklyn altogether is a Godsend, and I’m not talking about the nice parts of the city. Pooling rent with my roommates, Emily and Rose, was barely enough to get us a tiny two-and-a-half-bedroom apartment in what Rose calls the ‘shady armpit of the big Apple’. Needless to say, our apartment is not in the greatest of neighborhoods. Even men would be hesitant to walk alone at night. Muggings happen regularly, prostitution is rampant, and I customarily dodge the odd sketchy-looking person lingering around outside my building.
This live-in pet-sitting gig at Vivian’s palace in the sky gives me three weeks’ vacation from dodging danger on a daily basis. There’s also no walking up five flights of stairs when I’m exhausted after class, and no cramped living situation with Emily and Rose—who by the way, have been drooling over the couple of photos I texted to them of my temporary dream home.
The dogs are no problem at all. They’ve been a joy to be around since the first time I took care of them. I can tell they miss Vivian being away, at least a little, but I’ve been with them all the time, except for when I’m on campus. Even while I’m at lectures and labs, the pet monitoring app keeps me connected to them.
Whoever dreamed up this app must have had someone like me in mind. I’m connected to a two-way video and audio feed via the condo unit’s home Wi-Fi, and can see what they’re up to. It gives me an alert if they bark loudly or for other noises they make if they get into anything naughty. The live video feed streams all activity in their doggie room, which is where I leave them while I’m out.
There’s also a setting for me to give a pre-recorded message to help Bailey calm down. She’s the only one of the three that tends to have separation anxiety issues when no one’s at home. I don’t use the feature to speak with them live very much, as I only leave them alone to attend lectures. Still, the feature is there when needed.
I love this job.
It’s been pure bliss.
Sheba has even steered clear of Jackson’s side of the balcony. I haven’t seen the neighbor either, which is probably a good thing. He’s the kind of guy moms everywhere warn their daughters about.
Like the devil.
Smooth and tempting on the outside, and all bad when you dig deeper.
When he spoke to me at his front door the other day, his deep, rich voice rumbled in his throat, reverberating through me. The way he leisurely uttered my name, so thoughtfully, almost in a calculated way, caressing each letter before he let it leave his tongue, well, it was nothing like what I expected. It was like hearing my name pronounced correctly for the first time—the way it was meant to be spoken.
And why did my heart race the entire time while his eyes raked across my body, ending any possibility of coherent thought? He inspected and dissected me with just his eyes, yet seemed to appreciate every inch of what he saw. It was as though he could see right through me, like I was naked and exposed.
I need to stay away.
Up until now, keeping far away from him has been easy, because I haven’t seen him or anyone else on this floor since the day Vivian left.
What a dream weekend this will be. Starting with the two-person jacuzzi tub with jets in my guest bedroom. But first, I need to feed Bailey, Sheba and Daisy, take them outside so they can stretch their legs and do their business, and get them settled down so I can have a long, uninterrupted me-time session.
Feeding them was the usual process. Each of the dogs has his or her own special diet. Sheba gets packaged beef liver or kidney from the butcher, which he likes warmed up to exactly eighty-two degrees or he won’t touch it. As long as I get his dish ready first, mealtime goes smoothly. Daisy has the canned chicken and rice, and Bailey likes dried dog food straight from the bag, so she’s easy. Today, dinner is easy as pie, so I get them leashed up and take them down to the private dog park adjacent to the condo building. It’s not near large enough for all the pets that congregate from the three buildings in the condominium complex, but as I take them for a long walk in Central Park every morning, it does the trick on evenings.
We return to Vivian’s place a half-hour or so later. They’re fed, calm, and happily wagging their tails. Getting them up to their doggie bedroom on the second floor—which incidentally, is almost double the size of my entire apartment in Brooklyn—I find them their special chew toys and comfort play things, dim the lights, and close the door behind me. They don’t even give me any pleading looks tonight.
‘Me-time’ has arrived.
Filling the jacuzzi, I throw in my honey almond aromatherapy bath salts and light up some scented candles to add to the atmosphere. My bathrobe is neatly folded with some towels on the bench beside the tub, with my comfy bedroom slippers on the floor nearby. And just in case I need it, the pet monitor app is open and streaming audio on my phone. I scan the room one more time. I’ve been looking forward to this for so long, it needs to be perfect.
Everything’s quiet out there.
I’m ready in here.
A peaceful smile rises on my lips. I turn off the overhead lights. I step out of my jeans, peel off my cardigan and shirt, unhook my bra, and slide my cotton panties off, leaving them in a pile on the floor beside my bedroom slippers. The light humidity in the air kisses my bare skin, setting me at ease. With one hand on the bath support grip for balance, I dip one toe into the water. Excellent temperature. Taking a long inhale, I step into the tub and slowly sink down in the heated water. I reach out and turn on the timer for the jets, close my eyes, and embark on my escape.
It’s perfect.
Until it’s not.
I only have about ten minutes of relaxation before there’s a loud thump out in the hallway, followed by a noise alarm from the dog monitoring app on my phone. Sitting up in the tub, I reach for the phone and turn on the video feed. Bailey’s in her doggie bed, but Sheba and Daisy aren’t anywhere in the room, from what I can see on the screen.
“Sheba? Daisy?” I call out.
I know they can hear me through the bathroom door because I left it slightly ajar. Yet this time, they don’t come to me.
“Sheba, Daisy, here doggies!”
Not a sound. It’s silent again, but I can’t take the chance that they’re romping around the penthouse unattended, possibly breaking Vivian’s things. Expensive stuff I can’t replace.
Groaning, I begrudgingly turn off the jacuzzi jets and step out of the tub.
“Here Sheba! Here Daisy!” I shout, drying off a bit and putting on the bathrobe. If I’m quick about locating them and taking them back in their room, the water may still be warm enough to top up and resume my de-stressing.