It's Never Enough: Book 1 in the Never Series (3 page)

All four dogs bounced up, trotted over to me, and sat in obedience at my feet. Dasher, Dancer, Prancer and Vixen all wagged their tales in sync. It was a bit unnerving. And I knew the dogs were starting to pick up on my nerves because their demeanor began to shift. The obedient sits were now turning into anxious sniffing and circling around me.

Vixen was the feistiest of the bunch. She was a Rottweiler mix and the one people seemed to be most intimidated by. Part of what made Casper famous wasn’t just the fact that he became this great dog trainer, but he did it working with the most violent breeds of dogs. His pack consisted of what most people would label killer dogs. Vixen the Rottweiler mix—she had the most gorgeous black and tan coat, but when you caught a glimpse of her teeth when she yawned or barked, you instantly backed away. Dasher the pit bull/Rottweiler mix—some genius decided to breed together the top two vicious dog breeds—he was the most playful of the group, and his gray eyes were so sweet. Dancer—a purebred pit bull that Casper adopted as a baby—his coat was a light tan color, and his paws were all white; he was the biggest drooler of the bunch and always tried to steal Vixen’s treats. Prancer—a purebred Rottweiler—he was the most gorgeous of the group—if he wasn’t part of Casper’s pack, he’d probably be winning blue ribbons in dog shows somewhere. The one thing that all of these dogs had in common was that none of them was aggressive. Casper’s pack in L.A. was the same type of group. Comet, Cupid, Donner, and Blitzen were all purebred pit bulls. I’d met them once when Casper had to bring them out here for a publicity event. At first, I was scared to be around all eight dogs at once, but when I was around them, I was never worried. The most vicious breeds acted like docile labs or retrievers.

“Mallory, I’ve told you the dogs respond to your mood and vibe. You must remain peaceful.” He took deep breaths in and out and motioned for me to do the same.

Peaceful
. That was Casper’s big thing. To be peaceful. Maybe that was why the dogs were never their best when they were with me. Maybe it was because I couldn’t remember the last time I actually felt peaceful.

“Well, okay, let’s go,” I said to the dogs, who were now nipping at each other, and Dasher was incessantly licking my shoe.

“Mallory, peaceful, peaceful.” He did the breathing motion again. Then he turned to the girl in the room and said to her. “Zoey, what’s the name of that yoga studio you like?”

“Zen. It’s on Main Street.”

Casper clapped his hands together. “Ah, see. My daughter suggests you go to Zen studio. You will find peace there, okay?”

I nodded while I hooked Vixen’s leash. She circled around my feet again, almost as if she did it on purpose to lasso me or something. I unraveled the leash around my feet and tried to act in control, especially around Casper—the last thing I wanted was to ever lose this job—but I could feel him watching me.

“Go to Zen, Mallory. Go soon and quick,” he said with a sigh.

While I hooked Dancer, I glanced over at Casper who was rubbing his clean, bald head. Some treats fell out of my pouch and onto the floor, and there was a mad dash by Dancer and Vixen to gobble them up. Since I’d been bending over to hook Dancer, the other dogs ending up knocking me down on my ass when they attacked the treats.

“Mallory, yoga please. You must become peaceful,” Casper said while rubbing his head.

Embarrassed, I grabbed the dogs by their leashes and headed out.

Me and yoga? Whatever
.

***

After thirty minutes of the dogs pulling me every which way—according to Casper, they should walk beside me on a loose lead—I found myself in front of Perked. I took the dogs and clipped their leashes to the bike rack that was in front of the store.

When I got up to the front of the line, I ordered a large French vanilla with extra, extra for Fiona. Just before leaving, I felt an inexplicable need to walk over to the booth I normally sat in. An unknown force moved my feet steadily to my spot. My seat was empty, but something was off. As I moved closer, I saw that there was something stuck to the backrest. Once there, I was able to see a small sticky note attached to the seat. It read:
Mallory’s seat
.

Pins and needles pricked at my spine. Had the green-eyed hunk come back? He must have. Who else would have done it? The dogs began to bark, and I quickly exited the store. I had to get back home. And possibly make a batch of brownies.

CHAPTER THREE

The following day as I stood in line at Perked, I was happy to see Eliza behind the counter. No need to explain myself or my order to some other random barista.

“What will it be today, my dear?” Eliza said. Her eyelids were painted with neutral hues. Her lips were almost glowing with bright fuchsia lipstick, but on her, it looked awesome.

“Non-fat caramel latte hot and the carrot cake cheesecake please.” I pulled seven dollars out of my purse.

My breathing regulated as I watched Eliza take a big spoonful out of the cheesecake and place it in a bag for me before discarding the remaining cake.

“Thanks,” I said, grateful that she never questioned me or looked at me like I had six heads.

Eliza had a goofy grin plastered across her face. “You’re welcome.” Her tone was high-pitched, and there was a little gleam in her eyes. Maybe she’d had too much coffee already this morning.

I walked back toward my seat, ignoring my surroundings and only focusing on getting to my spot. My eyes scanned the back of my seat noticing that the
Mallory’s seat
note was gone. Too bad. I really liked it there. I sat down and took a long sip of my drink. The caramel coated my tongue in the best way. In my periphery, I saw a figure hovering oddly close to my booth, totally encroaching upon my space. I looked over, ready to announce that my personal space was
my
personal space and they should move the hell out of it, when I was stopped cold by those emerald green eyes.

“Good morning, Mallory,” he said. The stubble from yesterday had now doubled on his face. He took a long sip of his drink—which smelled like hazelnut—before looking back at me.

“H—hi,” I stammered.
Keep it together, Mallory
.

“How’s your morning going?” he asked.

Had he been waiting for me? How long had he been here?
“It’s good. How’s yours?” I tried to be nonchalant even though my stomach felt like butterflies were having sword fights inside me. His bicep flexed as he took another sip of his drink.

“Well, to be honest it wasn’t that great, but it’s going much better.” He stopped and leaned in a bit closer to me. “Now.”

Heat began to rise up from my belly before it exploded across my face.
Damn, why hadn’t I gotten the iced coffee?
  I looked away but could still feel his eyes on me.

“Hey, D, we gotta go,” a male voice shouted, and Devin stood up.

“I hope you have a great day, Mallory,” he said. My eyes transfixed on the way his mouth looked when he said my name. The way his tongue rested on the roof of his mouth as he elongated the “l” sound.

“You too.”

“Devin,” he said.

I sat quizzically.

“You too, Devin.” His eyes glinted like a diamond in the sun. “I just want to make sure you remember my name.”

I hadn’t forgotten, but another blush crossed my face. “Okay, Devin.”

A big grin like that of a ten-year-old boy who’d just hit his first homerun washed over his face, and then he turned and caught up with his friend who was standing by the door.
Shit
. Was I ever going to see him again? Would he be at Perked tomorrow? I knew I would, but would he? Was he flirting with me or messing with me? And why were my nipples hard? I reached for the spoon of carrot cake cheesecake and let the sweetness melt on my tongue. I had to pull myself together.

***

I was sitting on the couch flipping through a magazine when Fiona came home at five o’clock.

“I thought you were ditching me,” I said while tossing the magazine on the coffee table.

Fiona set her pink purse down on the breakfast bar and let out a sigh. “Sorry. I was supposed to get out at four, but there was a rush.” She was wearing a trench coat, which was odd since I’d never seen her in a trench coat before.

“New coat?” I asked as I stood near her. Her face told me something was up.

“Uh, yeah. So let me shower and change—fifteen minutes tops—and then we’ll head over to the folks for dinner, K?” She headed for her bedroom.

Like a territorial dog, I blocked her path. “Something’s up.” I stood before her with my eyebrows raised.

“What? No, nothing’s up. Now let me by.” She tried to brush past me.

“Take off the coat.”

“Okay, freak, what’s gotten into you? Now move.” She tried to pass again.

“You need to prove to me you’re not a flasher. Take off the coat.” I stood, arms crossed over my chest and foot tapping on the floor.

“Ugh, whatever.” She huffed and dropped the trench coat to the floor.

My mouth gaped open as I scanned her half naked body.

“Don’t make a big deal of this okay?” she said.

My eyes burned as I looked at the crop top and matching booty shorts with letters B&B emblazoned in sequins across her ass.

“You’re working at Burgers and Buns?” Even the words sounded vile in my mouth.

“It’s
so
not a big deal,” she said as she pushed past me to her bedroom.

I followed. “It is a big deal! When you said you were waitressing, you failed to mention it was at a strip club!”

She turned to me. “You know for a fact it’s not a strip club. No one gets naked!”

“You are naked!” I pointed at all of her exposed flesh.

She threw her head back and laughed. “Okay, so I know you’ve had sex before, and if you did it with this much clothing on, then I have to tell you that you did it wrong. I am far from naked.”

“Semantics,” I shot back. “Why do you have to work at Burgers and
Buns
?”

“Because I don’t have the boobs to work at Tatas and Taters,” she was quick to retort. “You have the great rack, and I have the great ass, so it makes much more sense for me to sling drinks and overpriced hamburgers than to be made fun of for being flat-chested.” She grabbed a towel from the linen closet and walked towards the bathroom.

“But, Fiona, you can do better than this.” I didn’t want her working there with gross guys pinching her ass and making lewd comments to her all the time.

She stopped at the bathroom door. “Listen, I know you’re looking out for me, but really it’s fine. They’re very strict about customer contact and, all in all, are very protective of the girls. Plus, I made a shit load in tips today, and I was just apprenticing! Imagine when I’m on my own!”

I paused for a beat. “A shit load? Really?”

“Yup.” She started to close the bathroom door but stuck her head back out to say, “Hey maybe if Tatas and Taters is hiring, you could get a job there, and we’d be the tits and ass girls!”

I shoved her face back inside the bathroom. “Get ready!”

Her cackle was loud and made me smile. I looked down at my chest. The round, full, B cups stared back at me.
These girls are for home shows only
.

***

At six fifteen, we pulled up to the house that my dad and Fiona’s mom shared. Fifteen minutes after we were told to be there. Fiona always took obscenely long showers.

“We’re telling your mom it’s all your fault that we’re late,” I said as we exited the car. Janet was a stickler for being on time. And the last thing I wanted was an earful on being late from someone who was no longer my stepmother.

“Whatever,” Fiona said as she twisted the doorknob. “Not a word about the job.” She waggled a finger at me.

I smiled my you-can-totally-trust-me smile. “Cross my heart and hope to—”

“I’ll kill you,” Fiona said as we walked inside. “Mom?” she called out.

“In the dining room girls,” Janet snipped. Yup, she was pissed.

We crossed into the dining room together. My dad stood and came towards me for a hug. Janet stayed in her seat.

“Sorry, Mom,” Fiona said as she kissed her mother’s cheek. “Mallory was running late.” Fiona stuck her tongue out at me.

I mouthed the word
bitch
to her only to have her wink back at me.

“Nice to see you, honey,” my dad said after planting a bourbon-soaked kiss on my cheek. “You too, Fiona.”

“Thanks, Jack. You too.”

We all sat and placed our cloth napkins on our laps. I scanned the table: chicken parmesan, garlic bread heavy with butter and oil topped off with melted cheese, rigatoni swimming in meat sauce, and zucchini casserole.

“Um, Janet,” I cleared my throat. “Is there any salad?”

She let out a heavy sigh. Her long black eyelashes fluttered as she cast her gaze downward. “Mallory, I’m sorry. In the midst of creating this feast for our dinner I failed to make the salad.”

Ouch
.

“I can go whip one up,” Fiona said coming to my defense.

“No, I’m sorry,” Janet dropped her body back into her chair. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m just so incredibly tired.” She placed her hand to her forehead like she was checking her temperature or something.

Fiona and I exchanged concerned glares. Was there something majorly bad that they were going to announce to us? Over chicken parm and garlic bread?

“Now don’t go freaking out on us girls,” my dad said. “I’ve seen that look you two gave each other before.” Even through the bourbon my dad was pretty astute. “Janet’s fine; we’re all fine.” He took another sip of his drink, the ice cubes ringing against his glass like music.

Fiona and I both dropped our shoulders and relaxed.

“I’ll just go make myself a quick salad,” I said, pushing myself to standing.

“She’s just pregnant, that’s all,” my dad said after downing the last of his drink.

My body crashed back down into my seat. “She’s what?” I said.

“You’re what?” Fiona asked at the same time.

“Pregnant. I’m pregnant.” Janet said. Her little heart- shaped mouth curled into a sheepish grin. Her pink lipstick extended just beyond her lip line and settled into the fine lines that surrounded her lips. Her jet-black hair that always looked so lustrous looked dull and limp hanging in a low ponytail.

Fiona’s eyes darted to her mother’s face. “You’re what? But how? You’re too…too…old.”

Ohmigod, she said it. She just called her mother old.

“Excuse me?” Janet’s blue eyes appeared to blacken like a shark’s before it kills.

Fiona tossed her napkin onto her empty plate. “I’m sorry, Mom, but come on now, you’re forty-five. Aren’t your eggs, like, all dried up by now?”

Ohmigod
. It was horrible. I looked to my dad. He sat stoically with half of his face hidden beneath his bushy auburn beard. His gray eyes cast towards his empty drink. Why wasn’t he defending her?

“My eggs are perfectly viable until I hit menopause young lady, and that is way, way off in my future!” Janet’s nostrils flared.

“Fiona, I understand you’re shocked,” my dad said.

“I think shocked is an understatement, Jack,” Fiona said and then looked to me. “You’re awfully quiet.”

My shoulders inadvertently raised and lowered. “I was just…” My thoughts were streaming too fast to comprehend them. I’d be twenty years old when the baby was born. It wasn’t exactly the ideal sibling relationship I’d always hoped for but it was still a family. One concrete picture kept playing through my mind. “I guess I was just thinking it might be kind of nice to all be a family again. You know, with a new little sibling.”
Family
—a word that had taunted me all my life.

***

When I was in the second grade, I had to write a paper on my family. This came about just three months after my mom had taken off. The bright lights of Vegas and the chance at winning it big were much more appealing to her than the mundane life of a housewife. All the kids in my class were so excited about the project and being able to write about something we all knew. If you couldn’t write about your family, what could you write about? Mrs. Gleeson made general statements about how there were all sorts of different families and that we needed to be respectful of each other. There had been a meeting with my teacher, the principal, and my father after my mom left. I was a “special case,” and they were supposed to keep an eye on me. When all the kids left to go to lunch, I stayed back and asked Mrs. Gleeson if I could write that my mom was still around in my story even though she was gone. She said yes, and that was the first time I realized how important it was for me to fit in.

My dad was totally lost raising a young girl on his own. I don’t think love was his main factor in finding a woman to marry because I’m pretty sure his main goal was to find a nice woman that would be a nice parent for me. Unfortunately, he tried to do this over and over again. First came replacement mom number one and her twin eleven-year-old boys. She worked as a candle maker at a big factory and constantly came home smelling like floral or spices. Her boys were the worst. They constantly bullied me and tore up my stuffed animals. She only lasted a year.