GOOD GUY: BAD BOY
Something Addictive: Part 4
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George lurched forward with the plane and found himself on his knees in the middle of the aisle.
"We hit an air pocket . . . are you okay?"
"Sure, I'm fine, if you'd just bring a drink back to my seat along with a blanket, I'll be in good shape . . ."
"Why me?" he mumbled under his breath, "Nobody else was on their knees in the middle of the aisle."
Only minutes before he read in the news that a man seeing a woman crying, made him lose all desire for sex. He wondered if a woman seeing a pitiful man stumbling around with an obvious erection, would elicit the same kind of reaction.
The thought of the plane crashing wasn't nearly as humbling as looking creepy to his gorgeous flight attendant. He'd hoped to at least practice his charms on her before returning to Reba with a blanket and a functional hard-on.
The flight attendant's pheromones filling the air only minutes before had vanished. All he could think of now was making it back to his seat without further humiliation and landing in Boston as quickly as possible.
Back In his seat, waiting for his drink and blanket, George flipped on Pod-News to find a reporter recounting Reba's traumatic ordeal.
Shortly after visiting a friend on Canyon Road, Reba Roberts, of Cambridge, Massachusetts, was en-route to her San Francisco hotel, when lightening hit her taxi and caused it to collide with falling rocks. The driver escaped serious injury and called 911 after getting a photo of an animal standing over Mrs. Roberts, before scaring it away. Sheriff Bobby Brown said, "The animal was first thought to be a coyote, but judging by the picture, I'd say it's a timber wolf."
*******************
Nudging Reba, George told her what he'd just heard on the news and that the reporter was coming back to give an update. More news played and then at the very end, the reporter came back on delivering his update.
"Back to the Canyon Road Coyote Story . . . Animal control has captured what they first identified as a wolf hybrid. However, a chip implanted in its neck, from a Lake Tahoe veterinarian, verifies that the animal is a wolf-dog and her shots are current, therefore, she is no longer considered a threat, to the public, as was first believed. Efforts are now underway to locate the adoptive owner."
Half asleep, half awake, Reba mumbled, "George, you gotta help me find her . . . I'm afraid they'll kill her."
*********************
Finding a wolf-dog, or whatever it was, from thousands of feet in the air, or for the matter, from the city Boston, wasn't a project he relished.
Turning away from her and leaning against the window, George fell asleep. When he woke, Reba was asleep with her hand shaking his knee.
"Where's my wolf-dog George . . . "
"Reba, wake up, you're dreaming . . . "
"How do you know they won't kill her?"
"Wake up, you're dreaming . . . "
Opening her eyes she looked up at George, and repeated, "Do you think they will kill her?"
"I don't know . . . we'll do what we can tomorrow, there's nothing either of us can do right now."
"I had a dream about her, now when I think back, I really don't think she was going to hurt me at all. But they could take what I said and decide she is vicious--euthanize her."
Suddenly the pilot came on and made an announcement "Attention all passengers; this is your captain speaking. There is a blizzard in Boston; we're turning around. All of you will be having at least one more day in sunny California. This time courtesy of the airline."
"Why am I not surprised George?" she said laughing. "I might as well give up and face it. I'm NOT the one in control today."
Text messaging, Reba made their boss Tim at corporate aware of the situation. She then cancelled George's room at the Charles in Boston, but she couldn't manage to get herself, back in the hotel she'd just left. Turned out there was a big Google convention going on in Pal Alto and there were no acceptable rooms in close proximity to the office.
"Look Reba, why don't you just come home with me for the night? You can stay in the guest cottage with or without my mother, and I'll be right next door. It's not anything to write home about, but it'll be a roof over your head and be comfortable."
"George, are you sure?"
"Of course, I'm sure. I don't let just anyone meet my mother."
*******************************
By the time the cab pulled up to his prairie style brick bungalow in Pal Alto, they were both exhausted and more than glad to let his mother take over. She insisted Reba stay in the bungalow with her, and delegated George to the back yard, rather than the other way around.
Fussing over them, and sympathizing, she made them all a snack and helped them get settled before shoving George out the back into the little guest cottage in the rose garden.
His mother was a sweetheart and couldn't have been nicer or more gracious. "I'll be in the room down the hall should you need anything . . . don't you hesitate or worry about waking me. Just go about your business. I've had more sleep today than I ever intended."
Drifting off to sleep Reba's final thoughts were of her own mother who'd died five years before; she wondered if George knew how lucky he was. She wondered too, if anyone would ever love her again as much as her own mother had.
At least when her mother was alive, she always had a home to go to, someone who loved her unconditionally. Now there was no one. Not a husband or even an old dog who'd get excited to see her. Gabe had helped fill the emptiness for the last two weeks, but he was never gonna fill the void she felt. The thought of him, and knowing he'd never be hers, made her feel even more lonely.
*******************************
Waking up as usual at 6 A.M. Reba remembered there were no deadlines to meet. She rolled over and went back to sleep until the aroma of bacon, eggs, and toast woke her up. Looking over at the clock she saw it was noon and decided she'd better get up just as a knock came at her door.
"Hey, sleepy head," George sang out, "you're invited for brunch if you're decent."
"Thanks. Give me a few minutes and I'll be there."
Doing a quick fix in the bathroom, she brushed her teeth, ran a comb through her hair, sloshed a little cold water, and finished with a bit make-up. On the way out she checked in the mirror--satisfied she was presentable--she made her way to the mission style kitchen where her benefactor stood with a cup of coffee.
"Wow! That robe didn't look that good on my mother . . ."
"You amaze me. You're such a grouch in the office, but outside it, you're not so bad."
"Am I to take that as a compliment, or a scolding?"
"Neither, it's just an observation. You've been wonderful these past 24 hours. I just had to rib you a little."
"Okay, I'll take the tongue lashing--provided your sit still and let me spoil you."
"Then what?" she said playing along with him.
"Work. There I'm gonna whip your butt. But in the meantime, Boston will have to wait."
Treating her like a queen, he waited on her hand and foot. She didn't try to stop him--she sat back and enjoyed it--relaxed into a mystified stupor.
She couldn't recall ever having a better breakfast. Sure, it was delicious, but this was much more. But not something she could put her finger on. If she were in love with the man, she'd say it was because the food had been prepared with love, but that was ridiculous. Besides, he wasn't her type. Thank God, for small favors, she thought.
*****************
Over their second cup of coffee, George went out on the porch and brought in the USA TODAY. Taking the sports page, he handed her the rest of it. On page three, was the story of what had happened to her the day before, along with photo of what looked like a big brown and black timber wolf. No doubt about it, it was the same animal she had mistaken for a coyote.
"Omigosh, George, look at this! My BEAST is called BABE and belonged to a woman who lived near my friend Jan."
Leaning over her shoulder, he began reading the story with her.
"It's apparent from this that you didn't know much about coyote's, and that they are small and not known to attack humans."
"Yeah. I remember now. This bitch has got to be over 100 lb. And look at those ears and nose . . . now that I think about it, it was a pack of wild dogs, not coyotes that ate up that poor woman and her husband."
Continuing to read, they kept finding answers to the questions they'd been asking:
"Being part Siberian Wolf and part Siberian Husky, Babe is considered a wild animal in the state of California, and therefore not legal. She was originally adopted from The Lake Tahoe Animal Sanctuary by Gladys Gilmore who reportedly brought her to Redwood Village, a year ago. Gladys, who died last week, had reportedly said that because of her health, she could no longer care for Babe and didn't have anyone willing to search for her when she ran away. It was Gladys dying wish that someone find her beloved Babe and send her back to the sanctuary.
"George, I just knew there was something that didn't add up."
Fighting tears back, Reba looked up from the paper.
"George, it's like my dream last night on the plane. I saw Babe licking my face again as if she was trying to tell me she needed a friend."
"Reba, I understand. I've always had a soft spot for dogs too."
"I have too, but never had one as an adult. My husband said if I understood the parasitic life cycle like he did, I wouldn't want one in our home."
"Understandable. They can be dirty and a lot of work. But the question that remains--is what do you want to do now?"
"George, I really feel like I need to help her. I can't adopt her, but I could help find a home for her . . . heck yes . . . I could board her in a kennel until I find her a home. That's it!"
"Great idea Reba, it should work if there are any in California that will accept her. If not, we'll smuggle her out of state, or find that sanctuary she came from. For starters lets go to animal control in Redwood County."
"Oh, George, yes, let's do it. I'll help you clean up the kitchen and then go dress."
"No. Get out of here, I'll do it, you go dress."
Grabbing another coffee, she took off running and was back in twenty minutes, showered and fully dressed and ready to leave.
At first, the visit to the animal shelter didn't go as well as expected. But finally, after a number of calls to the Lake Tahoe Sanctuary, plus Reba personally guaranteeing Babe's delivery within 48 hours, they figured out the mechanics of how to transport Babe to Lake Tahoe. The shelter then agreed to let Rena and George take Babe in one of their "retired" vans that had a gate that separated the back from the passenger area.
To pull the deal off, it took a check for $3,000. as a security deposit on the van, with the understanding that once Babe was delivered, and the van returned, it would be split between them and the Lake Tahoe facility as a donation.
"That was really good of you Reba."
"Just getting the job done George, I learned a long time ago, money talks, and makes for the shortest walk. It helps too, that my mom left money in her trust to donate to animal shelters. I'd just never gotten around to it. She'd be pleased how it's all working out . . . "
****************
Babe alert in the back seat behind George and Reba stayed busy intermittently licking Reba's neck through the van's wire gate as George drove east towards Lake Tahoe.
"I think she likes you Reba," George managed to spit out between his chuckles.
"Yeah, who'd have believed it. It may be a cliche, but life really is stranger than fiction."
Turning and patting Babe on the top of her head, Reba soothed her in a sweet voice usually reserved for new babies of the human variety.
"It's okay Babe, I'm going to take good care of you and take you back to your old home, "
"Reba, that's what I told YOU last night, but you didn't pat ME on the head."
"Yeah, but you didn't promise ME a good home."
"Girl, you drive a hard bargain. We just met!"
"Well, you told me the other day, that you were the kind of man who's decisive."
"About work! About work. When it comes to a new woman in my life, it takes me at least 24 hours."
"Looking at her watch she quipped, "O-k-a-y . . . starting from when? Yesterday afternoon? Last night?"
"Pressure. Pressure. How about if we get Babe to the sanctuary, and then I board and bed you at Harrah's Casino and Hotel on Lake Tahoe?"
"George, you ARE a bad boy, aren't you?"
"So what's new? I told you last night. I'm a GOOD guy, but a BAD boy."
Her eyes filling with tears she asked, "Do I NEED to be afraid of you?"
"Does Babe need to be afraid of US?" Taking his eyes off the road he saw the tears in her eyes.
"It's okay to cry," he told her gently, "like I said last night, I'd be crying too, if I'd been you lately."
"Good guys and bad boys like you don't get scared . . ."
Keeping his eyes on the road and swallowing hard, he reached over and brushed the tear from her cheeks and finally answered, "Right, guys like me aren't afraid of anything."
He'd seen grown men, war-hardened soldiers cry, but he'd only cried once, the night his dog died and he'd held him for hours in his arms, praying hard for God to bring him back to life.
Now here he was, nearly crying again, but this time, it was more than just the dog, it was watching Reba with her.
A boy's dog was one thing, but crying over some damn woman babying a dog was ridiculous.
***************
To Be Continued: Part 5
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Submitted by:
Madison
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