Authors: Alexandrea Weis
“As long as Bob’s name is on the mortgage, I’m stuck with him as a silent partner. Until I’m financially viable, I’ll never be rid of him, you know that.”
“Then let’s find another patron, a richer one.”
Pamela frowned at her. “What do you suggest I do, Carol? Tack on a pair of pasties, head down to Bourbon Street, and sleep with the first man that flashes a blank check in my face?”
Carol laughed. “That would be a start.” She shook her head and focused her pale blue eyes on Pamela. “Honestly, if I had your package I would be out there hunting for the first man I came across with a pulse and a high credit score. You spend every day and night up to your elbows in animals. When was the last time you even had a date?”
“I don’t have time to date!” Pamela shouted.
“No, you don’t want to date.” Carol crossed her arms over her chest. “Last year, that fine looking vet kept making excuses to stop by. He asked you out a dozen times. What was his name?”
“Gary Levy.”
“So why didn’t you go out with him?”
Pamela could feel the tiny squirrel squirming around inside of the towel in her hands. She took a breath and let it out slowly. “Men don’t want me, Carol. I’m too old and once they find out I have–”
“Forty-one is not old!” Carol chimed in. “And have you seen the way half of the deliverymen look at you when they come in here? Trust me, men want you and they won’t give a damn about your disease. Bob is not representative of the entire male population, Pamie. Just because he reacted the way he did to your lupus does not mean that another man will be such a heartless asshole.” She threw her hands up in the air and laughed. “Christ, everyone has got something wrong with them. No one is perfect.”
Pamela nodded and tried to force back the slow grinding tension rising from the pit of her stomach. “But everyone does judge you when you have lupus. Many people don’t know anything about my disease, and I don’t want a man to only consider my limitations before he ever gets to know my possibilities.”
Carol stood in silence before her, as Pamela watched the woman’s pale
blue eyes sink in resignation.
“All right,” Carol said, waving her hand in the air. “Lecture over. But I want you to at least consider dating someone.” She winked. “Preferably someone rich, but I’m not picky. I would go for someone moderately comfortable if it will get you laid.”
“Carol!” Pamela tried to look shocked, but instead found she was fighting to stifle a girlish giggle. “My sex life, or lack thereof, is none of your business.”
Carol rolled her eyes. “Honey, your sex life is my only business. Because any man that can get into your jeans will not only have to love animals, but will have to find a way to make you think he loves animals. And the only way any man will successfully be able do that is with a fat checkbook.”
“Really, Carol you make me sound like some
—
”
“Who’s that?” Carol quickly asked as she looked out toward the cages along the edge of the cleared property.
Pamela followed her line of sight until she saw Daniel. He was naked from the waist up, hosing out cages at the other end of the clearing. She stood there frozen for a moment as she watched his water-covered chest glistening in the mid-morning sunlight.
Pamela gasped. “Shit!”
Carol turned to her. “What is it?”
Pamela nodded in Daniel’s direction. “That’s the guy the parole office sent over to clean cages.”
Carol raised her eyebrows as she stared at Daniel. “Him? Man, we need to call them more often.”
“Not funny.” Pamela handed the towel with the baby squirrel inside to Carol. “The guy needs to put his shirt back on. This is not a Chippendales nightclub. This is a family friendly facility, for God’s sake!”
“Oh, please!” Carol laughed. “That is the first fine piece of man meat I have seen since I went into the city and got shit-faced at Pat O’Brien’s last year.”
“Yeah, well, maybe you saw him.” Pamela headed toward the back steps. “He works as a bartender at Pat O’Brien’s.”
“Oh, this morning is just getting better and better,” Carol remarked.
Pamela glanced back to her just as she reached the bottom step. “It won’t be so good when twenty prepubescent Girl Scouts and their mother’s pull up and see a half-naked man on my property.”
Carol smiled at her. “Pamela, right now it’s not the Girl Scouts getting bent out of shape by the half-naked man. It’s you.”
Pamela stormed down the steps and across the green grass toward the back row of cages. She could feel her anger coming to a steady boil as she watched the man flexing his muscles as he scrubbed the outside of the cage. All she could see was his nude upper body glaring at her from across the yard. In her head, she could hear the screams of frightened Girl Scouts as their mother’s insisted they quickly depart the depraved wildlife center.
“What do you think you are doing?” Pamela snapped as she came up to Daniel’s side.
Daniel glanced over at her and then down at the scrub brush in his hand. “What does it look like I’m doing?” His dark eyes flashed with irritation. “And what the hell did you keep in this cage? It stinks!”
“Four fox kits. Their urine is almost as bad as a skunk’s spray.”
Pamela felt her stomach do an uneasy flip as she watched the man’s eyes slice into hers. She walked over to the side of the cage where he had hung his white T-shirt to keep it from getting wet. She angrily pulled the shirt off the wire cage and turned to Daniel.
“Put your shirt back on.” She handed the T-shirt to him. “This is not some bar in the French Quarter where women throw money at you to see your bare chest. I’ve got a busload of Girl Scouts coming today and the last thing I need them to see is your half-naked ass in my facility.”
He grinned. “It’s not my ass that’s naked, Pamela.” He threw the scrub brush on the ground and wiped his hands on his jeans. “I’m sorry. Since so many women throw money at me to see my half-naked body, I figured you wouldn’t mind.”
“I don’t give a damn if you parade around here buck naked, but when I have guests coming, guests who could be potential benefactors, then I do care.”
Daniel reached out and took the shirt from her hands. Then Pamela saw the three circular scars on the man’s chest and right shoulder. The scars were unmistakable to Pamela: gunshot wounds. Having worked as an EMT on the dangerous streets of New Orleans, she was well acquainted with scars of that type. It was the first thing she had searched for on any victim of violent crime. Most recipients of gunshot, or knife-related injuries, bragged about their past encounters and were proud to discuss each and every scar on their body. She had seen boys no more than fourteen show off their old wounds like medals of honor garnered for service in a war no one was ever meant to win.
She redirected her eyes from his chest to the ground. She hated being right about people, especially when her thoughts tended to emphasize the negative rather than the positive. But she felt assured that her initial instincts about Daniel Phillips had been correct.
Daniel put his T-shirt back on and picked up his scrub brush from the ground. “I’ll try not to further offend your delicate sense of decency.”
Pamela gave him a smug grin and folded her arms across her chest. “Listen, I really don’t give a shit what you think of me
—
”
He held up his long, slender hand stopping her tirade. “Shit does not suit you. Why don’t you try darn, or even damn, but not shit. You don’t look like the kind of woman who should use such profanities.”
“What in the hell is that supposed to mean? What kind of woman do you think I am?” she shouted.
He grinned as he pointed the scrub brush at her. “Your looks and manners scream of an upper class kind of background. Your pale skin and delicate features mean you have probably never done a hard day’s work in your life. And this place?” He waved his hand around the facility surrounding them. “Only a bored housewife looking to show off her altruistic side to her posh friends would waste her days chasing flea-infested fuzz balls around a makeshift petting zoo.”
“Well, at least I don’t have three gun shot wounds in my chest. And how did you come by those, Mr. Phillips? Protecting the patrons of your bar from mass slaughter?”
“Why you little…” he let the words die on his lips. “You don’t know anything about me, Ms. Wells. And do not even begin to think that because I have a few scars on my body that I have led a depraved
—
”
“.9 mm I would think by the look of the entrance wounds,” Pamela stated, cutting him off.
Daniel stopped and stared at her for a moment. He cocked his head to the side. “How in the hell did you know it was a .9 mm?”
Pamela raised her chin and gave him a condescending gaze with her cool gray eyes. “Every bored housewife knows the difference between
—
”
“Hey!” A voice shouted behind them.
Pamela and Daniel turned to see Carol standing there waving her hands frantically in the air.
Carol walked over to Pamela’s side. “Do you two want to keep it down to a dull roar over here? I got a busload of girls dressed in funky green outfits that are asking where all the screaming is coming from.”
“They’re here? Already?” Pamela bit her lower lip and looked back toward the house.
Carol nodded. “Yes ma’am; to the Girl Scouts, being on time ranks right up there with cajoling people into buying truckloads of tasteless cookies.”
“Carol!” Pamela glared back at her friend. “Keep your voice down.” She turned to Daniel. “I think you and I are finished here, Mr. Phillips. You can pack up and get the hell off of my property.”
“Ignore her,” Carol said, sticking out her hand to Daniel. “She just has PMS; fires everybody when she’s in a crappy mood. I’m Carol Corbin, Pamela’s accountant and second in command around here.”
Daniel took the round woman’s hand. “Daniel Phillips.”
“Carol, stop undermining me!” Pamela exclaimed.
Carol took a step back from Daniel. “Give the guy a break, Pamie. He took off his shirt, so what?” Carol grinned at Daniel. “Loved your beefcake display, by the way. It added a real zing to my morning.” She patted Pamela on the arm. “Pamie’s too.”
Daniel ran his hand through his thick, brown hair. “Really? I got the distinct impression Ms. Wells was not at all pleased with my beefcake display.”
“Trust me, unless you have fur covering some unseen portion of that body of yours, she won’t be interested,” Carol said with a dismissive wave of her hand.
Daniel raised his dark brows. “Lesbian?”
“Worse. Frustrated, if you know what I mean,” Carol confided as she winked at Daniel.
“All right!” Pamela called out as she stepped in between them. “Enough.” She waved her hand at Daniel and sighed. “You can finish out the day, Daniel.” A sudden jolt of pain gripped Pamela’s elbow. She winced as she pulled her arm against her chest.
“You okay?” Carol asked.
Pamela grimaced again and then nodded. “Just a bad day.” She gave Daniel one last reproach with her eyes and turned away. She started back to the house, still cradling her arm against her body.
Daniel watched as the pale, slender woman slowly made her way to the blue and white cottage. “She all right?” he asked as he nodded after Pamela.
“She has bad days. They seem to be coming more often lately,” Carol disclosed as her eyes followed Pamela. “Trying to keep this place going is taking its toll on her.”
“Why doesn’t she give it up?” Daniel asked.
“This place is all she’s got. It’s the only thing that keeps her from completely falling apart. She tries to act brave, but the stress is wearing her down. And God knows her body doesn’t need anymore stress.”
“Is something wrong with her?”
Carol sighed and turned to Daniel. “The medical term for what she has is systemic lupus erythematosus. It’s more commonly known as lupus.”
“Lupus? I’m not sure of what that is,” he said, furrowing his brow.
“Pamela’s immune system has trouble telling the difference between her body and a foreign body, like a virus. It attacks her joints and can destroy major organs, like her kidneys, liver, lungs, and heart.”
Daniel felt his gut recoil with reproach as he reflected on his previous exchange with Pamela Wells. He wiped his hand across his face. “Christ, I didn’t know. I shouldn’t have been egging her on the way I did. Will she be all right?”
“She’s not broken, only bruised, Daniel. Her lupus causes pain and swelling in her joints. It comes on suddenly and can last for an hour or a day. She manages with it but some days are worse than others. Anyway, she doesn’t like to be handled with kid gloves. The woman is a lot tougher than she looks. My father always said she was one of the toughest women he ever met.”
“Your father knows Pamela?”
“Knew her; he died a long time ago,” Carol corrected. “He was her partner when she worked as an EMT in New Orleans.”
Daniel’s face dropped. “She was an EMT?”
“Yep, a pretty good one, so I was told. Gave it up after the accident.”
“What accident?”
“She and my dad were transporting a patient to the emergency room when they were hit head on by a drunk driver. Apparently, Pamela broke her ribs in the collision, but that didn’t stop her from trying to save my father’s life. After my father was pronounced dead at the scene, Pamela finally agreed to let the rescue workers take her to the closest hospital. Once in the emergency room, Pamela’s condition quickly deteriorated. The next day she woke up in the ICU with a chest tube and a large incision down her abdomen. Her broken ribs had punctured her right lung and she had ruptured her spleen.” Carol smiled. “Like I said, she is a lot tougher than she looks. After that, she kept tabs on me and was a good friend to my mother. When I finished college, I offered to come out here and help her run this place.” Carol gazed about the facility. “Yeah, this has always been her dream. Save the world by saving one flea-infested fuzz ball at a time.”