Pretty Crooked (31 page)

“Welcome, everyone. I appreciate you coming in today and I look forward to having you work here with us at the shelter. How many of you have been here before?”

A few people raised their hands.

“How many of you have worked in any shelter before?”

As Jan was talking, I heard the door behind me open as someone entered the room.

“Have a seat,” Jan said to the new person. “We’re just getting started. And your name is?”

“Aidan.”

Aidan?!

I spun around and saw that it was indeed the Aidan Murphy I knew. What was
he
doing here? I actually gasped.

He saw me staring at him and he smiled before coming over to the empty seat next to me. He looked almost embarrassed. “Hey, Colorado.”

OMG. OMG
. The room instantly brightened as if all the lightbulbs had been blasted with a giant energy surge.

I wanted to stand up and applaud his entrance. Instead, I smiled widely and said, “Hey.”

Was he getting hotter by the day, or was that my imagination?

“You two know each other, I see. I was just about to start telling everyone a little more about what we do here at Mountainside and how you volunteers can help us.”

He sat down next to me. “Tre told me I’d find you here,” he whispered. “I thought we could serve out our time together—you know, make it a party.”

He was so close to me, I could feel his breath on my ear—just like the other day.... My heart quickened with the sensation.

I tried to focus on what Jan was saying. She explained the various roles we might be able to take on: administrative assistant, cat or dog buddy, or cleanup patrol.

“We’ll start you with one of these, but you’ll rotate through all of them in the time you’re with us,” Jan said.

“How are you?” Aidan whispered.

“Okay, I guess.”
Better now that you’re here
. “You?”

“Okay,” he said. “Criminal system’s a bitch, huh?”

I nodded.

“One of the problems we face here is finding homes for these animals,” Jan said. “If you’re in the front office, you’ll be helping us work with potential adopters. Keep in mind that we’re competing with pet stores and with dog breeders. People usually come here as a last resort, or if they can’t really afford to buy a pet. Has anyone here gotten an animal from a shelter before?”

One woman raised her hand.

“How about the rest of you? Where did you get your pets?”

“I adopted my cat from a friend,” another woman said. “He was depressed and peeing in her house so she needed to give him away.”

“My mom used to breed dogs,” Aidan said to the room. “Little fluffy ones. People would travel all the way across the state to buy them. She would show them,
too. It was like a hobby. For years I tried to convince her to stop—I told her there were so many animals out there without homes, and she was making it worse.”

He was an animal-rights advocate? The surprises never ended with this guy.

Jan nodded. “We find that in this affluent area, a shelter dog can be a tough sell. Right now we’re just at capacity here. So if you know anyone who’s looking to foster animals, please let me know.”

Jan said that the rest of the day would be spent touring the facility, so we all got up out of our seats and she opened a pair of double doors to show us where the animals were kept.

We passed by a row of cats in their cages—some chubby with fuzzy little faces, others sleek and majestic. There were cute little bunnies and a few hamsters and gerbils. Then it was on to the biggest section of the shelter, the dogs. I was trying to pay attention to the animals but with Aidan so close to me, I was having a hard time concentrating. I could feel the charged air between us with every step.

As we walked down the row of cages, the dogs rushed forward to greet us, leaping up to stick their paws and noses through the wire.

“Hey, guy,” Aidan said, stopping in front of a cage to let a beagle lick his fingers.

“He likes you,” I said.

“You think so?” he said, his face earnest as he leaned
in. I felt my insides melt a little, watching him comfort the small dog. He was stroking his head now, murmuring, “It’s gonna be okay, buddy. We got you.”

I stood there by him while he moved on to the next one, a mangy-looking terrier mix. It was not a very cute dog, but he gave it the same dose of love as he had to the first one. He seemed lost in his own little world, talking to the dog and letting it lick his hand.

After a few minutes, he looked up, self-conscious. “What?” he asked.

“I’m just watching you,” I said. “I didn’t know you could be so … sweet.”

His mouth slowly curled into a smile. “I told you … we’re like caramels.”

Later, after we’d finished orientation, Aidan and I walked out together to the front steps.

“So you’re a celebrity,” he said. “I couldn’t turn on the news the past few weeks without hearing about you. You were everywhere. It was awesome. Who knew you were such a badass?”

“I’m not, really,” I demurred. “Well, maybe slightly badass.”

“I heard you were carrying out a suitcase of cash from the Richardsons’ safe. And that you were shot at four times during the chase.”

“False. Where’d you hear that?” I asked. But I didn’t have to.

“The Buzz, of course. The only news source of record in the Valley. I heard you dug your way out of the juvie cell with a bendy straw and some Starbursts.” He grinned. “Actually, I made that one up myself.”

“Nice,” I said. “But what about you?”

“What about me?”

“How’d you finally persuade them to kick you out? How’d you end up here?”

His face clouded over and I felt a wall come up. “I told you, Colorado. I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“But you know all about me now,” I insisted. Why the secrecy? It was like Tre all over again. Or my mom. I couldn’t stand these big mysteries—not from people I cared about.

“Believe me, you don’t need to know. It’s not that interesting a story. Not like yours, anyway.” He stared off into the distance.

I watched him closely. He looked the same as he always had, the same shaggy hair and amazing eyes and everything else, but also subtly different. He was more reserved, or more humbled. Or something.

And he was acting differently, too. He’d always been a bit like a puppy himself, bounding back whenever I shooed him away, but now I could see that something was going on for him. Something hard.

I decided to let it be and change the subject. “How’s that terminal illness treating you? Still dying?”

It took him a second, but he recovered quickly. “Eh,
so-so. But we’re all dying, right?”

“It’s true, from a Buddhist standpoint.” I sighed. “I don’t know how we’ll be able to stay here with these animals week after week. It’s kind of depressing.”

“Well, someone needs to help these little guys.”

“They shouldn’t be locked up like that,” I said. “It goes against their nature.”

“No, they should be free.” His eyes lit up with an idea. “We could do it, you know. Let them out.”

Was he insane? “What, just break in here and open the cages?”

He shrugged. “Why not?”

“I don’t think so. I mean, it’s a nice fantasy, though.”

“It wouldn’t be that hard. You know how to do that stuff, right? Like pick locks and things?” He pantomimed a break-in with an imaginary doorknob.

“Aidan, my days of breaking and entering are over,” I said.

“That’s what they all say. But once the criminal life is in you, it’s hard to go straight.” He had the goofy smile on again, and I was relieved to see it come back. Aidan was just not Aidan without it. “I guess I should roll. How are you getting home?”

“I need to call my mom. Can I borrow your phone?”

“Sure,” he said, handing me his Droid.

I dialed the number to the house. But there was no answer. It just kept ringing. She must have disconnected the house voice mail, too. This no-cell-phone, anti-press
policy was driving me crazy. Was I supposed to contact her via carrier pigeon?

“She’s not there.” I handed him the phone.

“I can give you a ride, if you want.” Our fingertips touched around the phone. My body instantly went hot.

“I can walk…” My voice trailed off as I met his eyes. It was my old stubbornness talking—not my heart.

“It’s at least six miles,” he said. Then he shrugged. “I can only kidnap a girl once, you know. Then it starts to get a little shady.”

He started down the steps to the parking lot. I watched his lights flare as he unlocked his car. I looked around. It was getting dark. All the other volunteers had left. It was evening now, and they all probably had families to get home to, meals to cook. I could be waiting here for a long time. And I didn’t want to watch him drive away. I didn’t want him to leave at all.

“Wait!” I called out after him. “I’m coming.”

He was just standing there with his hands on his hips, smiling at me as he watched me approach.

“That is, if the offer still stands.” I exhaled as I caught up with him.

“Are you kidding? After everything they said about you? It would be my privilege to take you home. You’re a living legend, Sly Fox!”

I shook my head, smiling. “Just call me Willa, okay?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

TO HIS CREDIT, Aidan drove pretty safely all the way to my house. And though he did insist on wearing his NASCAR sunglasses in the falling dusk, I was too busy thinking about other things to get hung up on the cheese factor. Like the fact that he’d actually come to the shelter for me—though I couldn’t quite believe it was for my sake. I was going to have to double-check this with Tre when I got home.

Then there was the little matter of his hand on the gearshift, inches away from me. And the inside of the car, which was practically a cloud of his scent. Under these conditions, it was hard to form sentences.

“We should count ourselves lucky we didn’t have to go to that pre-holiday luncheon yesterday,” he said, changing lanes. “It’s really one of the lamest things you could imagine. They make everyone do these poetry readings and then we all have to say a weird little prayer.”

“You’re luckier than me,” I said. “You don’t have to go back there at all.”

“Maybe so,” he said. “Your street is here, right?”

“Yeah,” I said.
He remembered
.

Okay, freaky. Settle down
.

He shook his head with sympathy as he turned onto my street. “Let’s just say Kellie’s not too happy with you right now. But if you could handle juvie, you can handle her,” Aidan said. “You’re a tough girl, right?”

“Oh yeah.” I gave him two thumbs-up. If anything, juvie had shown me exactly how not-tough I was.

He pulled up into my driveway. “Well, Colorado, maybe I’ll see you around at the shelter.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I guess I’ll be there next Monday.”

“Me too. I’ve got nothing else going on these days.” He laughed, but it was not a particularly joyous laugh.

“Thanks for coming today. And for your help the other night, of course. And thanks for the ride.”

He gave me a look, like he was detecting sarcasm.

“No, I mean it this time. I would’ve been standing there all night. And you drove very nicely.” I glanced up at him, shy all of a sudden.

“I’ve been working on it, like I said I would.” His eyes darted away from me, back to the windshield. I looked at his profile, the jagged geometry of his face.

“I appreciate that. And so do the agave plants,” I said, pausing. Was I supposed to hug him? Kiss him?
Shake his hand? I was trying to read his cues, but one thing I was learning about Aidan Murphy was that he didn’t always give off the clearest signals. “Well, have a good night.”

He turned back toward me and his face was smooth and serious. “You too, Willa.”

I unclicked my seat belt. He unclicked his, and leaned over to my side of the car.

I had been anticipating this moment for a long time, ever since the day he first drove me home. And if I was going to be honest with myself, probably long before that.

My breath stopped as he moved closer. I let my eyes close, and then…

… nothing.

When I looked again, his lips were inches away from mine. Frozen. “What’s wrong?” I asked, my heart jangling in my tonsils.

“Nothing. It just looks like your front door is open.”

I craned my neck behind me and saw the slant of light coming from the front of the house.

“That’s weird,” I said.

“Maybe your mom left it that way?”

“Yeah, maybe. Maybe she just walked in.” But I looked back to the driveway and saw her car wasn’t there. It could have been in the garage, but then she would have gone in the house through the adjoining door, and not the front.

“You look worried. Can I walk you to the door?” he asked.

“No, no,” I said, embarrassed. The kissing moment had clearly passed, and I was positive I’d looked like an idiot with my lips all puckered up. No wonder he’d held back. “I’m fine.”

Aidan must have sensed my unease, because he left the car in park. “I’ll wait until you go in,” he said. “Just in case.”

“Thanks. I’m sure it’s nothing.” I wasn’t sure at all, but after he had gone on and on about what a badass I was, I felt like I had a reputation to uphold.

I went up to the door, which was cracked about four inches, and pushed it fully open.

“Mom?” I called.

My voice didn’t so much echo as hover.

Right away, I could see that everything was wrong. The living-room chairs and sofa were upturned like tipped cows, exposing the staples of their upholstery seams and the pads under their feet. The glass on the poster over the sofa was smashed in; a cobweb of cracks now covered the image of the forest I’d loved so much. My mom’s hand-stitched pillows were thrown on the floor and looked like they’d been stomped on.

What the hell
? I moved frantically through the house. In the kitchen, the floor was littered with broken plates, glasses, boxes of food. A pool of milk was forming under the refrigerator where a carton had been
dumped. All the appliances had been bashed in with a hammer or a baseball bat, it looked like. Several of the cabinet doors were hanging off their hinges.