Walking backwards, I try to make an elegant exit. As much as I can wearing jean shorts and clunky rubber muck boots, anyway. “Can you maybe start with getting him to turn down the music? Some of us have to work early.”
He runs a hand through his hair and gifts me with another one of his curt nods. I want to inform him––just in case no one else has––that words are free and unlimited and there’s no need to hoard them like he does, but I suspect he doesn’t have a sense of humor.
A smile overtakes my face as I walk into the house. He didn’t catch me staring and I got him to do my dirty work. Not bad in a night’s work. The score tally…
Me:1 Hughes: 0
What is the saying? Oh, yeah, actions speak louder than words.
Aidan doesn’t appear the next day. Or the next. I have to transfer the bags full of wood shavings that we use as bedding in the stalls from the storage to the barn all by myself. Many, many bags.
I’m close to taking matters into my own hands––and when I say my own, I mean call Jess and have her deal with him––when Aidan walks into the barn as I’m grooming Phoenix, one of our newer rescue horses. He’s a nervous Arabian gelding who was traumatized at a show barn and deemed too dangerous to ride after he was repeatedly beaten for not standing still at the mounting block.
When I glance up, Aidan is standing in the aisle, shirtless, wearing cargo shorts and his customary Elvis sunglasses. A lit cigarette hangs from his lips.
“I’m here,” he declares in an utterly annoyed tone. As if I’m the slave master he serves. This guy needs to take a good hard look in the mirror to see who the guilty party is.
But that’s not the half of it. I can’t take my eyes off the lit cigarette. Jesus could come back and even he couldn’t steal my attention away.
With a major drought going on in Southern California, the last thing anyone wants to see is a lit cigarette in a barn. One smoldering ash could spark a raging wildfire that could burn for weeks. I can only surmise that he’s the same brand of idiot that would use fireworks at a gender reveal party. I’m constantly surprised at how rare common sense is these days.
“What?” he says in response to the silent daggers I’m sending his way. I’m what they call spitting mad. Without the spit part… because that would be gross.
“Step out of this barn immediately and safely put out that cigarette or I will call Ojai PD to come collect you.”
He sighs dramatically. Then he takes the cigarette between his finger and puts it out on the sole of his work boots. After which, he turns and walks out. Whatever his brother said to him didn’t get through, I doubt he heard him at all, so I guess it’s my turn to take a shot.
I put Phoenix back in his stall and march after our resident spoiled brat.
“Aidan,” I call out as he’s about to mount the steps to his trailer. Turning, he places his hands on his hips and all the muscles of his chest jump as if someone screamed, “Action.”
“Tomorrow.”
For a moment, I’m stunned into bewildered silence. Do I follow him into the trailer to yell at him? Probably not a good idea. Then I think of the animals.
“Now.”
His brows crawl up his forehead, daring me to stop him.
“You walk in there”—I motion to the trailer—“and I’m calling the cops.”
He eyeballs me for a beat, taking measure. Go ahead, bud. I double dog dare you.
“You don’t own a sense of humor, do you?”
“Not when it comes to you endangering my animals. You realize this is a sanctuary, right?”
“Do you know why I’m here?”
“For breaking the law.”
He scowls, eyebrows smashing together, seemingly offended. God forbid I should remind him of his sins.
It’s then I realize what the problem is: he hasn’t taken responsibility for what happened. He doesn’t think he did anything wrong. Which means he’ll keep doing stupid shit that could potentially hurt other people because he’s the victim in this scenario. Unfreakingbelievable.
“For driving fast,” he blurts out in frustration.
And there you have it. “You gotta be kidding. Condolences on your divorce from reality. There’s a little more to it than that.”
“Not much.”
“Tell it to your diary.” Does he actually think he’s going to illicit sympathy from me at this point? “Look, you agreed to serve your time here, something I was not happy about from the start. I’m not the one who’s keeping you here. You’re welcome to leave if you feel that it’s beneath you to help animals that have been abused––some of them starved and beaten to within an inch of their lives. I’m sure you have better things to do than help them. So go ahead, do everyone a favor––me, your brother, the animals,” I tick off on my fingers, “and make the call. Be gone.”
He exhales, his shoulders slumping. He’s suddenly not doing his movie star pose anymore. “Starved and beaten?”
His mouth gets tight and it reminds me of his brother. They really do look a lot alike, with the exception of their coloring. “Yes.”
“That’s fucking horrible.”
“Yes. It is.”
“Which ones?”
“Does it matter? They’ve all come from crappy circumstances.”
He pushes the Elvis sunglasses to the top of his head and squints at me. “When you put it that way…”
“You mean truthfully? Yeah, hate to inform you, but you’re no longer in the land of make-believe. Welcome to the real world.” He glances away, into the distance. It wouldn’t surprise me if he decided to make a run for it. “Well? What’s it going to be––staying or going?”
A stare-off ensues. He mulls it over. I can’t even believe he’s mulling it over. Does he not realize he’s doing time if this fails? “Staying.”
“Then I expect you at work tomorrow.”
Without waiting for a reply, I walk away.
It’s late when I get done with night check and enter the house. Voices drift out of the family room. Mona’s and Darby’s. I head there to give Mona the updates on the medications we need to re-order and updates on the two horses that have been healing from minor injuries.
I walk in to find them on the big, beat-up leather couch sitting side by side, Darby’s arm around her shoulders. Mona’s attention is hard to hold and the fact that she’s still seeing Darby could be a good thing. He seems decent enough and clearly makes her happy.
“Hiiii, Blue,” she cheerfully greets me. “Grab a slice of the brambleberry pie I made and come watch this movie with us.”
“I may have finally gotten through to Aidan. Fingers crossed he starts to do some actual work tomorrow.”
“Oh, good, maybe he’s feeling better.”
She’s still stuck on this idea that he’s depressed. I’m not so easily convinced, but whatever.
“Pepper didn’t finish her hay cubes tonight.”
Mona’s smile drops. She looks thoughtful for a moment. “Let’s keep an eye on her.”
“I will. She’s not always hungry late so it’s probably nothing. The spider bite on Venus’s neck is almost completely healed, but we’re going to need more of that dressing we’ve been putting on it.”