Dax: Dick tits?
Harley: I’m testing it out. Just shut up and answer my question.
Dax: I am not on drugs. I’d like to tell you someone stole my phone and sent that first message, but I’m assuming you wouldn’t believe me. I really do need your help finding my otters.
Harley: After today, I don’t know what to believe anymore. Fine. I’ll take your case, but you’re paying me triple, plus a very handsome pain and suffering bonus. And if you ever call me sweetheart again, I will cut your dick off.
Dax: I just want you to know I am already super impressed with the professionalism I’ve seen from Claws and Effect. Five stars!
Harley: Eat. Shit.
Dax: So, I’ll see you at your place in an hour then? Should I bring the shit with me, or will shit be provided? Don’t want to show up unprepared.
CHAPTER 5
You Aren’t Gonna Start Crying Again, Are You?
Harley
“Davidson!” I shout for the third time, as I search through my dad’s two-story colonial, poking my head in every room and looking for my brother. “I’m going to kick your ass for not putting the boxes of horror away like I called you about an hour ago!”
Not only did I have to race out of The Backyard after my chat with Nanci and drop Davidson back off here at my dad’s house, so I could rush to the other side of town for the meeting Davidson rescheduled for me. But I had to deal with Dax’s bipolar text messages on top of it and get back here before he showed up.
Jogging down the upstairs hallway, getting more annoyed with each smack of my ankle boots on the hardwood floor when Davidson doesn’t answer me, I skid to a stop when I think I saw something in the guest bathroom as I ran by. Taking a few steps backward, I look into the open bathroom doorway again, cursing under my breath. Stomping into the room, I cover my eyes with one hand and grab the folded towel on the sink with the other, whipping it as hard as I can in the general direction of the tub. The tub currently filled with a forty-year-old man-child, curled up on his side in the fetal position who’s passed out naked.
“What in the fuck are you doing?” I shout as soon as the towel flies from my hand, and I spread a few of my fingers open covering my eyes, hoping my aim is as good as I think it is.
“Suckrod, dickneck, fuckstick, jackhole!” Davidson shouts, jerking upright in the tub at the sound of my scream—and the feel of the towel smacking into him and covering his waist, thank God.
“I don’t need any more words for douchebag, you idiot. That was an hour ago! Focus!” I complain as he rubs the sleep from his eyes then secures the towel around his waist before he stands up in the tub. “What the hell were you doing?”
“I told you I was gonna take a bath really quick before I did that favor you wanted. I smoked a joint and wanted to see what it was like when the water drained while I was still in here. Must have fallen asleep. Wild, man.” Davidson chuckles, holding onto the towel at his waist as he steps out of the tub. “You’re awful cranky for someone who wants a favor.”
Barely restraining myself from choking him, since I can’t even remember the last time I was able to relax in the middle of the damn day, I turn and start walking out of the bathroom.
“Put on some fucking clothes and stay the hell out of the garage!” I shout over my shoulder as I race back down the hallway and stairs to hide the stupid boxes myself before Dax gets here.
I’m in the attached garage office and heading toward Shirley and Mildred’s creepy beach ball game still happening on top of my desk, when a fist pounds against the outside office door.
Realizing I don’t have time to hide the box on my desk, the one on my dad’s desk, and the fifteen other boxes of animal corpses he’s left lying all over the stupid office, I let out a sigh of defeat and walk over to open the door.
Even though I just saw him a few hours ago, it’s still a shock to see Dax Trevino standing here in front of me, looking the way he does. So… dirty. But not in a gross, hasn’t-showered-in-a-week way. In a way that is entirely too unprofessional for me to even be thinking about right now.
“Hey.”
That’s all Dax says in greeting as I hold the door open wider for him to come in. His hands are in the front pockets of his jeans, and his head is down as he walks past me and into the office.
After the text exchange we had earlier, I wondered if maybe the angry, serious, quiet Dax at The Backyard was just on account of the missing otters, even though Nanci told me that’s what he’s always like now.
Clearly not. I knew he was on drugs.
“I wasn’t sure you’d show up. I thought you’d assume I’d give you the wrong address or something and worry that you’d pull into the driveway of a lunatic who might open fire on your car,” I ramble with a nervous laugh as I shut the door and turn to face him.
Jesus, since when am I nervous around Dax Trevino?
He’s standing in the middle of the room, hands still in his pockets, a lock of his dark hair falling down into his eyes, staring at me seriously again.
“I thought about it.” He shrugs. “Figured I’d take my chances.”
Dammit. I never thought there would come a time I’d wish for the old Dax, yet here we are. I can’t handle this shit.
“I only gave you the right address for the pain and suffering bonus,” I remind him sarcastically.
I watch the corner of his mouth twitch.
“It’s good to know you care,” he replies after a few seconds, a little more life coming out of his voice than when he first walked in.
Guys don’t usually know how to handle my attitude. They either act like a kicked puppy or they try to change me. For the most part these days, aside from with my family, I keep it toned down. I don’t exactly want to scare every guy away. But man does Dax bring it out of me. And he doesn’t run away or tell me to be a “lady.” He just gives it right back. I like that about him. I’ve always liked that about him, but I will never admit that to anyone, especially him.
“Look, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I need you to be consistent if I’m going to find Lincoln and Chris,” I tell him. “You can’t just act all weird and gruff one minute, then be all cute and charming the next. That’s not gonna work for me.”
I realize my mistake as soon as the words leave my mouth. He might be a different version of the Dax I used to know, but that text exchange we had proves he’s not completely dead inside, regardless of how dead he’s currently acting.
“I’m sorry. Did you say cute and charming? I just want to make sure I get it right for next year’s Christmas letter to the family.”
Aaand there he is. I know I’m probably going to regret this one day.
The humor in Dax’s voice disappears for a second when he gets serious with me again. “I’m sorry if I’m all over the place. I’m still… working through some shit,” he mutters, removing a hand from his pocket to swipe his hair back out of his eyes. “I promise I will not let my personal shit interfere with finding my otters. And in the interest of full disclosure, I should probably tell you my dad is the one who bought The Backyard and threw all that money into it. But I’d appreciate it if you kept that to yourself for now. The employees don’t know. No one knows except for Nanci. And now you,” he finishes.