Alpha Dog (23 page)

While I sat there lost in thought, someone started pounding on the front door. I leaped up from my chair. As I headed into the living room, the knocking grew louder and faster, and I could hear muffled cries from the other side. I quickly opened the door to find Mrs. Krantz, all tearstained and disheveled.

“Katie, thank goodness you’re home,” she said, dabbing her eyes with a dainty embroidered handkerchief.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, ushering her inside and closing the door.

“It’s Mrs. B. I can’t find her anywhere! I put her on the balcony for her afternoon nap and she disappeared. She’s never been gone this long!”

It felt as if I’d been punched in the gut. “Oh God,” I said, more breath than voice. “I put Seamus outside too.”

I ran to the patio door and flung aside the blinds, memories of mutilated stuffed animals whirling through my mind. Mrs. Krantz trotted up behind me, gasping and sobbing.

And then I froze. I was just about to open the door when I saw them.

“Look,” I said, pointing.

Mrs. Krantz gave me a bewildered, glassy-eyed glare and then followed my finger, wincing slightly. “Oh my,” she whispered. “I didn’t . . . I never thought . . .”

“Me either,” I said.

I beheld the sight again. Seamus and Mrs. B were lying in the shade, curled up together in a nap.

12

I
stood ankle-deep in discarded clothing, studying my latest ensemble in the mirror.

Cinched cargo capris with gauzy tank?
I turned to the left, then the right, then climbed onto my bed to view my bottom half.

Verdict: a good maybe.

Matt would be here in five minutes and I had yet to decide on an outfit. The dresses were too dressy and the shorts seemed too, well, short. I didn’t want to wear obvious date clothes if this weren’t an actual date, but I didn’t want to slob out either.

I heard a distant pounding and Seamus charged out of the room barking.

He’s here!
I thought, leaping off the bed. Guess this look would have to do.

I smoothed my hair and straightened my top as I walked into the living room. For some reason, I wasn’t as nervous as I thought I’d be. My pulse had definitely quickened, but there was no palm sweat, no trembling, no gelatin joints. I was just . . . happy.

“Okay, okay,” I said, shooing Seamus away from the door. “Sit! Stay! Good boy.”

I stood there for a second with my hand on the knob. I considered making Matt wait a moment or two, just so I wouldn’t seem overly eager. But then I reminded myself that he was early. I took that as a good sign.

I unlatched the door and flung it open. “Hi th—”

My voice died away in mid-greeting and my smile broke, reassembling itself into a gaping grimace. There on the landing stood not Matt, but
Chuck.

It felt as if I’d passed through some weird time distortion. Right place, wrong guy. Or was it former right guy, wrong place? He looked great, I noted irritably. Obviously he’d been spending a lot of time in the sun. His skin glowed a beautiful caramel color and his spiky hair was almost Q-tip white.

“Hey,” he said coolly, as if I’d been expecting him.

“What are you doing here?” There was no anger in my tone. My voice had kicked in to its Chuck default setting: passive and meek.

“Can I come in?” he asked.

“Um . . . okay.”

He loped into the living room and I shut the door behind him. Seamus started growling. His snout twitched, revealing his toothpick-thin fangs, and his whole body vibrated.

“Aw, man,” Chuck said, laughing. “They’re making you live with some spaz dog?”

“He’s my dog,” I corrected.

I picked up Seamus and carried him, still snarling, onto the balcony. My limbs felt heavy and floppy, as if I were moving under water. And I still couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d slipped into some alternate reality.

“So, what are you doing here?” I asked again as I walked back toward Chuck.

“I came to see you,” he said with a grin. “You look great, by the way.”

My face flushed automatically.
Dammit!
I thought.
What the hell is he doing to me?

His smile widened as he noticed my reaction. “How’ve you been?” he asked, taking a step closer.

How have I been?
It was such an odd question. So much had happened in the past few weeks, I didn’t know what to say. I still couldn’t even believe Chuck was right there in front of me.

I was about to give a standard nonanswer, like “fine,” when another knock sounded. In a daze, I walked over to the front door and pulled it open.

“Hi!” Matt stood on the landing, grinning at me. “You look great. Ready to go?”

“Uhhhhh . . .” I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t do anything but stand there gripping the doorknob like a lifeline.

Matt looked past me and saw Chuck. His back stiffened and his smile washed away. “Oh . . . hey.”

“Hey,” Chuck said, lifting his chin at him.

Their eyes locked for a moment. I fought the urge to tiptoe down the staircase and race out of the condo, back to some place that made sense.

“Um, Matt?” I said, rediscovering my voice. “This is Chuck. Chuck, Matt.”

They smiled stiffly at each other. Chuck took a swaggering step toward me and folded his arms across his chest.

“Hey, uh . . . why don’t I meet you at the park later?” Matt said. I could read confusion and disappointment in his eyes.

“O-okay,” I stammered, feeling a big swooping sensation behind my ribs. I really didn’t want him to leave, but I had no idea what to say. How could I explain things to him when I didn’t understand them myself?

He pursed his lips and gave me one last nod before ambling back to his condo.

“Who was that?” Chuck asked when I shut the door. His tone was slightly sharp, almost accusatory, and I felt guilty in spite of myself.

“He’s . . .” I paused. Was there a one-word classification for Matt? If so, I couldn’t think of it. And even if I could, I probably wouldn’t want to tell Chuck. “He lives next door.”

My numbness was starting to wear off and crude emotions came bubbling to the surface. I stared into Chuck’s Ken-doll face and felt the old hurt and longing and anger. “Why are you really here?” I asked testily.

His sapphire eyes grew big and round. “I just wanted to talk to you about stuff. About us.”

Various feelings jostled inside me, all trying to assert themselves. “I don’t know . . .”

Just then, the door flew open and Christine entered the condo, followed closely by Robot. Each one carried a McDonald’s bag.

“Hey,” Christine said, looking surprised. “How goes it?”

“Hi, guys,” I said wearily. “This is Chuck.”

“Aw, man. I know you.” Chuck walked over to Robot and held out his hand. “You’re in New Bile, right?”

Robot puffed up slightly and grabbed Chuck’s palm with his free hand, pumping it up and down. “That’s right, mate. You a fan?”

“Yeah! I caught you guys last fall at the Hot Spot. You were awesome!”

“Thanks.” Robot beamed at me. “Katie, your friend here is bloody brilliant. Where’ve you been hiding him?”

He and Christine walked over to the coffee table and set their food down. Chuck followed at their heels, practically genuflecting.

“Man, I’ve been telling everyone about you,” Chuck went on. “Told them you’d be huge. Didn’t I, Katie? Didn’t I say that?”

“You said that,” I muttered.

“Then we owe this bloke,” Robot said, plopping on the couch and digging a bagel sandwich out of his bag. “We should get him into our next gig.”

“Aw, man. That’d be awesome!” Chuck cheered.

“You could come with Katie,” Robot added through a mouthful of food. “She’s our good-luck charm.”

Chuck smiled at me. “Yeah, she’s great.”

“Hey, I know!” Christine exclaimed. “What are you doing today? You want to come out with us to the music fest?”

I flashed her a bug-eyed warning look, but Christine didn’t see it.

“What do you think?” she asked Robot. “We’ve got room in the van.”

“Sure thing, love,” Robot said. “Whatever you say.”

“Dudes! That is so cool!” Chuck cried. “Isn’t that cool, Katie?” He looked over at me, smiling broadly.

“Yeah. Great.”

“Jesus, Katie. I’m sorry. I had no idea he was the jerk who dumped you.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it isn’t!”

“Really, Christine. I can deal.”

We were already at the campgrounds, sitting on an itchy blue blanket Kinky had brought and listening to an amazing bluegrass band. While the guys played Hacky Sack nearby, I filled Christine in on what happened that morning before she came home. Seamus lay between us, keeping a close eye on Chuck, an occasional rumbling rising up inside him.

“So . . . you think Matt will show up?” she asked cautiously. “Or did he just say that to get the hell out of there?”

I shook my head, tracing my finger along the satin edge of the blanket. “I don’t know,” I said glumly.

“You should have told me you’d invited him. Then I wouldn’t have been so accommodating to Johnny Bravo over there.”

“I didn’t get a chance. You guys were out last night and he showed up first thing this morning.” I watched Chuck bounce the Hacky Sack on the inner part of his Nikes and frowned. “It’s weird, you know. He probably had to get up pretty early to make it here before nine. He would have never done that for me while we were dating.”

“What’s up with that, you think?”

“Beats me. Guess I’ll find out.” I’d reached the acceptance phase. We were here. Things were already in play. Now I just wanted to ride it out as quickly and smoothly as possible.

I still had no answer from Chuck on why he was there. He’d spent most of the morning hanging with Robot, talking about New Bile and scarfing down the rest of his hash browns. Then later when we all piled into the van, it became clear that four of us couldn’t fit in the backseat and Robot suggested I ride on Chuck’s lap.

So for the entire drive, Christine held on to Seamus while I sat snuggled up against my ex-boyfriend. It was a bizarre experience. Horrifyingly awkward, but not entirely unpleasant either. I could smell the familiar scent of his cologne and feel the weight of his long arms around me. Snatches of memories replayed in my mind—many of them good. And I remembered how it used to be.

Of course, the ache of him dumping me was there too, looming like a giant monolith in the middle of my nostalgia. I spent the ride in a detached state. It seemed to last forever—made even longer by the many stops at fireworks stands, where the boys wanted to load up.

“He’s cute, you know,” Christine remarked as we watched the guys. “Not my type, but definitely hot. Like a soap opera star or something.”

“You think he’s
my
type?”

She peered closely at me, as if X-raying me with her eyes. “Yeah. . . . No. . . . Maybe. When I first met you, this is exactly the kind of guy I would have pictured you with. But now . . . I don’t know.”

I heard Chuck’s familiar chuckle and saw him walking backward away from the guys. “Y’all go ahead,” he was saying. “I’m going to take a break.” He loped toward us and Seamus immediately jumped to his feet, growling like a revved hot rod.

“Down!” I ordered. “Stay!”

Chuck stopped at the edge of the blanket and bent forward, his hands on his knees. “Katie? Can I talk to you a sec?” he asked, eyeing Seamus cautiously.

“Uh . . . sure.” As I rose to my feet, I glanced over at Christine, who gave me a bolstering look.

“Be careful,” she mumbled.

Chuck, Seamus and I strolled alongside the lake, away from the noise of the festival. Since we’d arrived, the campground had filled up pretty fast. People, kids and dogs were milling around the different booths or sitting on colored blankets that were spread out in front of the stage like a gigantic, loose patchwork quilt. After walking several yards, we stopped beneath a lush pecan tree and plopped down on the grass.

For a while, we just sat there. Chuck threw rocks in the water and I nervously plucked blades of grass. Seamus stayed hunkered up against my side, like a little trembling, snarling outboard motor.

Eventually Chuck turned and stared at me.

“I know you’ve been mad,” he began.

My brow furrowed.
Mad?
No. Mad is how you feel when someone cuts you off in traffic, or breaks your favorite bracelet, or makes you wait an hour while they do their hair. It doesn’t even begin to describe the emotions churned up when your boyfriend messes around with one of your friends and then breaks up with you on your birthday.
Shattered,
maybe.
Depressed,
definitely. But not just mad.

I bit my lip and let him continue.

“I was a real loser to do that to you. I guess I was just mad that you were coming here for the summer. I thought it made me look bad. Like you’d rather study than hang out with me.”

“Really?” I’d never heard Chuck talk this way before. He sounded kind of whiny.

“Yeah. I guess the thing with Trina was just me trying to get back at you.”

At the sound of Trina’s name, my back arched and my fingernails dug into my cargo pants.

“Anyway, I know it was a bad thing to do and I’m sorry,” he went on. “I’ve really missed you, you know. Me and you, we’re totally right for each other.” He hunched his shoulders and looked at me with a doleful expression. “You think maybe . . . we could get back together?”

I stared at him blankly. Again time seemed to tilt. For days I had dreamed he would say those exact words. But now that it was actually happening, it felt a little off—as if I weren’t me, and Chuck weren’t Chuck, and we’d accidentally slipped into some strangers’ skins and started reciting lines.