Just Roll With It: a Just Us novel (36 page)

"I'm serious, Rigbee, the dog is bigger than you expected, and I see it outside sometimes."

"And?"

"And it doesn't wag its tail."

"You're concerned because you noticed the dog doesn't wag it's tail."

"A sign of a happy dog is a wagging tail, is all I'm saying," she stresses and crosses her arms.

"A sign of a happy daughter is a not nagging mother," I retort.

She rolls her eyes. "You don't have to get cute."

"Well, you're acting insane. You have to realize how bizarre that sounds, even for you."

"I'm calling Enzo and telling him to stay with you," she declares.

"Mom, you don't have to—"

"It's gonna happen," she interrupts.

"Fine. Whatever." I happen to know Enzo's out of town this week, so I go with it. 

"Don't whatever me, your grandpa will agree with me, just you wait."

"Where is Grandpa anyway, I didn't see his car out there?"

"Doctors appointment. But when he gets back, I'm filling him in on this whole situation."

"Okay, geesh I get it." 

When I see Rigbee's Mom's name flash across my phone’s caller ID, I answer immediately. I know Bee could be using her mom's phone to get ahold of me, knowing I won't answer her calls, but after this much time and with nothing left to say, I had a feeling in this case she wasn't.

So my next thought was her mom really is calling. So what reason would she have to call? Only if something bad had happened to Bee.

"Hello?"

"Roman?"

"Yeah, it's me, what's wrong? What happened? Is she okay?" I bark out.

"She's fine right now, sweetie. Settle down and take a breath."

"Christ, woman, you scared the ever-loving shit out of me, you know?"

"I see. I'm sorry for scaring you. I see now why you would've—well, never mind, for now, because I do have a favor to ask."

"A favor?"

"Yes, a favor. Don't sound like it's so awful of a thing."

"I didn't mean to … I guess I was just caught off-guard."

"Yes, well anyway, I know it's a lot to ask, and let me start off by saying I did in fact call and ask Enzo first." Because she's telling me what she thinks I want to hear, but I didn't. I don't think this woman knows much about asking favors if this is her idea of buttering me up. "But, he was out of town so he couldn't. The reason I'm calling is because Rigbee is at our neighbor’s for the week house-sitting, and I want you to go stay with her."

She wants me to go stay with Bee at their neighbors house for a week.
No fucking way
.

"The thing is, they have a dog I just have an eerie feeling about, and I would feel more comfortable if she wasn't alone."

"With all due respect, you do know we broke up, right?"

"Yes. Exactly why I called Enzo first." She says like
duh
.

"Right." I sigh. "Listen, I don't think it's a good idea. I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to say no. She wouldn't want me there anyway, trust me."

"The dog doesn't wag its tail, Roman. Please think about it. She will be there until Friday if you change your mind."

She hangs up without another word. Well, that was fucking random. And what did she mean by the dog not wagging its tail?
Weird
.

Damn, I think I do know what house she's talking about. A couple of times we were there I remember seeing the dog. I only noticed because it's a Rottweiler and as big as a goddamn bear.
Well, shit.

I can't sleep at all for the next few days. Knowing Bee is over there with such a beast has me in knots. What was she thinking agreeing to house-sitting there?
Stupid!

"It's not your business anymore," I keep telling myself.

She's probably fine. She wouldn't do it if she wasn't comfortable. right? No. Of course not. She's not stupid. But why then would her mom feel the need to ask me to stay with her? She wouldn't have called me if she didn't feel it were absolutely necessary.

I go back and forth about the whole thing for the rest of the day until I can't take it anymore. I'm so conflicted, and it's tearing me up so I grab a quarter out of my pocket and do what I always do when I'm torn. Flip a coin.

"Heads, I go over to the house Rigbee is sitting for, and tails, I stay put and stop overthinking this shit." I snap my thumb and flip the coin. My stomach drops when I immediately hope it lands on heads. That's why coin tosses work so well. As soon as you flick the sucker in the air you know exactly what face of the coin you hope to see when it lands. All of a sudden you know what you didn't before, it was never a hard decision in the first place. It lands on tails. It doesn't even fucking matter now.

I get there around dinner time. I'm raising my hand to knock on the front door when I hear the back door open. I watch Rigbee walk out with the dog close on her heels. She's taking out the trash and letting the dog take a piss. She fumbles with the trash can lid, and when I hear her cursing I can't help but laugh. She looks up at me when she hears it. I watch in amusement as the look on her face transforms from general disinterest to the glare of the fucking Anti-Christ. Here we go.

She stops what she was doing and storms toward me, which I admit I was completely expecting.

"Did my mom call you?" She doesn't wait for me to answer. "I swear, damn woman is crazy! Next time I see her, we're going to have a talk about boundaries. Meddling mad woman. She is unbelievable," she mumbles to herself and then remembers I'm still standing here. "I'm so sorry she dragged you into this. You don't have to be here, you can go. And I promise I'll make sure she doesn't bother you again."

Okay, this part was not expected. She's not mad at me, but at her mom? I'm confused.

"I'm staying. I agree with your mom, you shouldn't be here alone, just in case. I'm sure you’re fine and there's nothing to worry about, but it's not a big deal, really." It is, actually. "I'll stay in another room and leave you alone, if you want, but I'm not leaving now. I'm already here. Your mom wanted me here. I'm here. Just let it be and roll with it."

She stomps her foot because she knows there's nothing she can do about this, and some sadistic side of me gets aroused by her defiance. I smirk and discreetly adjust the strain against my zipper.

"Gah!" she groans and dramatically throws up her arms before storming back inside.

She barrels back out seconds later when she realized she forgot the damn dog.

"Come on, Bear." She pats her legs as she calls him. "Inside. Good boy."

Grunting, I mutter to myself, "Dog's name is Bear. Figures." I suck in a deep breath and follow his ass end into the house.

Stepping in, I catch a whiff of dinner and know right away she's making my mom's burritos. My mom had taught her the recipe a while back because they're my favorite. Maybe this won't be so bad after all. 

I wake to the sound of Rigbee screaming, for the third time. 

Bear just got done eating his morning food. I really need a coffee; this dog has woken up crazy early all three mornings I've been here so far.

"Come on, boy, let's go potty," I say while yawning.

I say it twice while I pat at my legs, like I've done every other morning. Then, like every other morning, I go to pet him before walking out the backdoor.

Before I know what's happening, Bear's teeth are bared. His lips quiver with aggression, and he lets out a low growl. The growl turns into a shrieking bark when he launches himself at me. I quickly turn my back from him and squint my eyes closed in anticipation of what comes next.

Everything happens so fast. His teeth sink into me. He bites me hard and fast five times on my back. He wasn't getting a good grip and I see him turn his head to seize my shoulder. He's so close to my neck, and I know I have to do something before Bear realizes this too.

Survival mode completely takes over my body, and somehow I'm able to turn enough to grab onto the counter top next to me.
This is imperative to my staying alive. I can't let go, I can't let go,
I can't let go
. It's the only thing I'm able to think as the animal continues to bite at me, looking for a better place to strengthen his hold.

My blood is running thick through his sharp teeth. In my blood, and in-between his canine teeth, I see pieces of chewed dog food mixing with human flesh. Mine.
Don't let go, don't let go.
If my hands slip off the counter I will fall. If I fall, I will die. I need to stay standing.

It's getting harder. He's got a huge mouthful of my right arm now, and he knows he's won. He's got the grip. He's shaking me violently back and forth the way a dog would with a stuffed toy. I know what happens next; I've seen Roman's dog do it enough times. This is the part when all the stuffing begins to fly out. I
can't let go, I can't let go.

The vital fluid leaking down my arm is pooling on the counter. My fingers are sliding around in it. I'm finger-painting the granite surface red. My own blood making my hands slippery. My grasp is loosening, and I don't know how much longer I can hold it.

I can't feel anything. My body's in shock; I don't feel pain. I see my arm in Bear's mouth, and I see the mess of gore secreting the area around me. Chunks of my skin are missing, so I know I should feel something, but I don't.

Heavy air gets stuck in my lungs when I try to push out sound, the breath unable to move in or out. My state of shock is preventing me from screaming. I desperately want to scream. The part of me I no longer control knows I need to scream, but my frozen body won't comply. All I can do is watch, and hope to hell I don't fall to the floor.

The shaking is getting worse, and I lose the strength in that hand. The arm rattles and jolts like one of a neglected rag doll. In the mangled mess of exposed bone and muscle, I don't recognize it as mine—it's too surreal.

With only one hand left now to hold on for my life, my effort is dubious at best. This animal out powers me. I'm losing. I will lose. Everything feels like it happens in slow motion. I can recount every tooth as it punctures the skin and every droplet of blood as it drizzles to the kitchen floor.