Something Like Thunder (36 page)

“You have a pet?”

“I might have a dog. I’m not sure yet.”

* * * * *

Nathaniel called the airport first, but not to change his flight. Instead he asked about the drug dog program, which resulted in an awkward conversation that led nowhere. He was transferred a few times, and eventually put on the line with someone who seemed to think he was seeking exploitable knowledge. When he continued rambling on about a dog missing most of its hair that had severe behavioral problems, he was accused of being with the press. The call ended fruitlessly.

Then he turned to the Internet, but the shelters he found were closed for the day. He tried calling a few numbers regardless, picturing Bonkers being led toward an electric chair, a red phone outside the room ringing just in the nick of time. Nathaniel didn’t have any luck. He gave up for the night and went to find his parents, telling them the good news. He had a job! Of course they didn’t see it that way. Not only was he dropping out of Yale, but he didn’t know how much he’d be earning or if he would have benefits. He didn’t share their concerns, still high from making such a brash decision.

The next morning he felt less certain but set aside his fears to continue his quest. If the officer hadn’t been lying, and dogs only had two weeks before they were put down, then Nathaniel was cutting it close. He called five different shelters, but none of the employees he spoke to recognized the description he gave. He also asked about the drug dog program with no luck. He became convinced the officer had made up the whole thing, but decided to try one more shelter before calling it quits.

“Ugly as hell,” he said. “Most of his hair has fallen out, or maybe it never grew in the first place. I don’t know. Has some sort of rash. He kind of looks like roadkill.”

“When did your dog go missing?” the woman asked, sounding hopeful.

“He’s not mine. I just met him at the airport.” Okay. That sounded crazy.

“Was he sniffing bags?”

“Yeah!” Nathaniel said. “That’s the one! Is he still there?”

“I’m afraid not. He didn’t make it.”

“Oh.” A pit opened up in Nathaniel’s stomach. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

The line was silent a moment. “
We
still have him. Is that what you mean? He’s not at the airport anymore. He flunked out of the sniffer program, so they sent him back.”

“He’s alive?” Nathaniel asked, feeling happy.

“Yes! Did you want to adopt him?”

“Oh.” He pictured all of his possessions covered in dog pee. “Kind of. I just don’t want him to die.”

The line went silent again. “Maybe you could come visit us at the shelter so we can see… So you can visit Bonkers and get a second impression.”

She probably thought he was completely nuts and wanted to verify that in person, but he accepted anyway. The shelter was open most of the day, so after a shower and a quick breakfast, he drove there. He had more doubts on the way. Even a well-behaved dog would be a handful. The new job would demand most of his attention. Then again, if he was the dog’s only hope, how could he possibly turn his back?

The woman at the shelter, Mary, was short and chubby, her cheeks red from exertion. She seemed to be the only person working there. After answering three phone calls and accepting a cat that a family no longer wanted, she led him to the back. The floors were hard and beige. Fluorescent lights hung from the ceiling. Down one long hallway with a drain in the middle was a series of cage doors separated by concrete walls. Most of these spaces were filled, the air loud with the sound of barking.

Nathaniel grimaced openly at the environment. “Can’t you do better than this for them?”

“Money,” Mary said. “I play the lottery every week hoping I can buy land and give these babies a proper home. Until then we look for other solutions. Not just homes, but training programs, like the one at the airport. Or another for service animals. Here we go.”

They stopped at a cage. The animal inside sat on a blanket, preoccupied with licking his own junk. Bonkers. The dog stopped licking and looked up when the cage door rattled and opened. Nathaniel’s first impression had been correct. The poor thing looked like he had been run over by a lawn mower. Bonkers didn’t seem to mind. He hopped up, paws skittering on the slick floor, tail wagging. Mary blocked the doorway long enough to get a leash on his collar. Then she moved aside so they could be reunited.

Nathaniel wasn’t sure if Bonkers recognized him, since currently he was going from cage to cage, sniffing the other dogs. Mary suggested they take him outside where he would calm down, but once in a fenced-off yard, all he seemed interested in was running back and forth and peeing different places.

“He’s still a puppy,” she said fondly. “Usually they are the first to get adopted but…”

“He’s ugly,” Nathaniel supplied.

Mary laughed. “Eye of the beholder. I think he’s a sweetie.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Nathaniel asked. “His fur, I mean.”

“Food allergy is my guess. It isn’t fleas or mites. We had him dipped, but it didn’t help. Diet is the main suspect. Lord only knows what they put in most dog food. I’d feed him BARF if I could afford it.”

“Gross!”

“It’s an acronym.” Mary tittered. “I only remember what the last two letters stand for. Raw Food. As in meat. You’d be surprised how many animals benefit from that.”

“Couldn’t you try it just for a week?”

“Money,” Mary repeated. “It’s a large expense, especially for an animal that won’t be around much longer. Not my policy, I assure you. Just the cold, hard facts.”

Bonkers chose that moment to finally notice Nathaniel, running circles around him and bucking like a horse. This threatened to tie them both up, so Mary dropped the leash. Nathaniel stepped out of the circle and picked the leash up again before the dog could flee. Soon he was yanked forward, the dog taking him for a walk instead of the other way around.

“His allergies are why he was given to us,” Mary said, keeping up. “He’s purebred—Siberian Husky—but that often leads to complications like these. Happens a lot. People want a beautiful dog, no matter how inbred, and they’re willing to pay a pretty penny to get it. When the animal starts to have problems, they suddenly can’t find the cash for those veterinary bills. Funny how that works. They have no problem finding us though.”

“That sucks,” Nathaniel said.

“Do you have pets already?” Mary asked.

“No.”

“Any experience with them?”

“Nope.”

“Do you have a suitable home?”

“I’m not sure,” Nathaniel admitted. “Does that mean I can’t have him?”

Mary hesitated, watching as Bonkers started kicking with his hind legs, showering them with grass and dirt. “As long as you can pay the adoption fee, he’s all yours!”

* * * * *

Nathaniel felt like he was trying to communicate with an alien species. Getting the dog to slow down enough to pay attention was the first challenge. After a number of walks that felt more like a tug-of-war, and a huge bowl of dry kibble, Bonkers finally settled down on Nathaniel’s bed. That was good. Nathaniel still didn’t know if the dog remembered him. He did sniff the duffel bag and look back at Nathaniel with something that resembled a smug expression, but he was probably just reading into things.

Getting down on his knees so they were eye level, Nathaniel tried asking. “Remember me?”

“Pant pant pant,” was the only response.

“I saved your life today. That makes us tight. We’re best buds now.”

More panting.

So far so good. “I know we’ve both been through a lot. The people who were supposed to love you failed. They let you down. The same happened to me. Now we’re starting over. Together. There’s something we’ve got to talk about though. Your name. It’s really
really
stupid.”

The dog stopped panting and cocked his head.

“Mary thinks you’re not even a year old. That’s pretty young, so I’m hoping you haven’t gotten too attached to it. Do you really want to be called Bonkers your entire life?”

The dog resumed panting, as if he wasn’t concerned either way.

“If you’re leaving it up to me, I was thinking Zero. That’s a movie reference. Tim Burton, not Mel Brooks. Am I making sense?”

Somehow the dog managed to look embarrassed for him.

“Think of it this way: We’re both starting from scratch. From zero. That makes it more poetic. See?”

The newly christened Zero rolled over on his side, as if exhausted by the conversation.

“Yeah, I agree. It’s getting late.”

Nathaniel rose to turn off the light. Then he got undressed. He peered at the bed through the gloom, remembering a time when it had been occupied. Now it was again, but he would rather have Caesar there instead. So much for dogs being the best cure for a broken heart. He sighed, then got between the sheets. Not long after, he felt the dog stir. Zero crawled near and flopped over again so their backs were pressed against each other. Then he exhaled as if content. A few moments later, Nathaniel did the same.

* * * * *

A new life. With nothing to weigh him down except what he could fit in his car. Nathaniel flew back to Connecticut at the end of spring break, spending one more night in his old apartment. He packed everything he could into boxes. The next day, when Rebecca went to class, he loaded the car with clothes, his movie collection, the television, his surround sound system, and enough pots, dishes, and utensils for one person. He even managed a few lamps, but that still left the couch and bed. Both were a lost cause. He and Rebecca had gone halfsies on the couch, which had set them back hundreds of dollars. He considered the couch carefully, then took off all the cushions and shoved them in the car, because fuck her.

Then he began the long drive to Texas, pulling over at a rest stop to sleep at around midnight. The vehicle was so stuffed that he couldn’t even recline his seat. This at least prevented him from sleeping in. He was on the road again at five in the morning, finally arriving home in the late afternoon. Zero seemed happy to see him, which was progress. Nathaniel unpacked enough to free the passenger seat, making room for the dog.

“Are you sure?” his mother asked as she watched him work. “I talked to your father. We can get you your own place in Connecticut. It’s not too late.”

“This is what I want,” he said, even though he wasn’t certain. Maybe it was all a big mistake, but doing something crazy made it easier not to
go
crazy. “This is what I need.”

“What if the new job doesn’t work out? What will you do without a degree?”

“Live off the land,” he said easily.

This seemed to worry her even more, but she didn’t try to talk him out of it again. Not even the next morning when they said goodbye. Once on the road, he felt liberated. Zero had his head out the window for much of the drive, perhaps basking in the same freedom. Their lives were their own now. No treacherous friends or lovers, no heartless owners. Just the open road and an address Marcello had texted him. Their new home.

When they arrived at the apartment complex in Austin, he let Zero out to pee, then put him back in the car. No sense in letting the new landlord discover that a feral beast was about to move in. He reported to the complex’s office and learned that everything had been taken care of. The leasing agent walked Nathaniel through a one-bedroom apartment on the third floor. Nothing luxurious. It was barely bigger than his old place minus one bedroom, but he did appreciate the balcony that overlooked a green lawn. Soon it would be dotted with Zero’s calling cards.

Once the keys were placed in his hand, he moved in. This process didn’t take long. He hung the clothes in the closet or placed them folded on the floor. An unzipped sleeping bag went in the bedroom, extra blankets on top. A laptop plugged into the dining room corner was his new office. The TV was set up on the living room floor, a Blu-ray player off to one side. He arranged the couch cushions across from it so he’d have somewhere to sit. Until he got a few paychecks, most of his home life would take place on the floor. At least the kitchen was fully equipped. He had just enough money to go grocery shopping, which he planned to do soon. First he sat down on his makeshift couch, Zero crawling on his lap and trying to initiate a play fight. Nathaniel pushed him away to glance around at undecorated walls and rooms so empty that a faint echo answered him when he spoke.

“Home, sweet home!”

* * * * *

“Male escorts,” Nathaniel said, not hiding his irritation.

“A gentleman’s club,” Marcello repeated patiently.

Nathaniel pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine. Where exactly is this club full of gentlemen? Because from what you described, we send boys out like taxis to please any old geezer with enough cash to afford them.”

“Taxi boys,” Marcello said musingly. “I like that!”

“I’m serious,” Nathaniel said.

“Perhaps it’s more of a gentleman’s network. Better?”

“No!”

The week had started so well. Marcello had greeted Nathaniel enthusiastically outside a drab studio the size of a warehouse. After ushering him inside and up an elevator to the second floor, Marcello presented Nathaniel with his own corner office. This meant two of the walls had windows, illuminating the wooden desk. A small table and matching chairs sat to one side, a bottle of champagne and two glasses waiting there. They had toasted each other, chatting idly before Nathaniel signed a number of contracts. He wished he’d read them more carefully, because after days of poring over accounts, he was realizing what he’d gotten into. Now he was on the top floor, an addition built on the flat roof that consisted entirely of Marcello’s spacious office. Granite floors, comfortable couches, a wet bar against one wall, and a view of Austin’s distant skyline. Nathaniel had found the place elegant the first time he’d been there. Now it seemed decadent. Marcello seemed completely at home, sitting behind an antique desk in a high-backed chair that made him resemble a Bond villain.