Page 21 of Forget About Me

I raise my hands, palms facing her. “Listen, just so you know, I did call a couple of other people I found in the Yellow Pages. I figured you might not want to work with me. The only one who returned my call just went on about crystals and past lives. You’re kind of my only hope.”And I’m prepared to beg if that’s what it takes.“I’ll work around your schedule as much as I can. I have performances ofRomeo and JulietThursdays through Sundays for the next couple weekends. Other days, I’m doing my old delivery route for my dad and?—?”

Her head shakes once. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you working for your dad? Aren’t you like a millionaire or something now?”

“Uh. No. I’m not. I mean, the thing is?—?”

Before I can go on, she scrubs a hand in the air between us like she’s erasing my words. “You know what? I don’t want to know.” Puck stands on his hind legs to nose at her hand. She makes him sit before petting him. “What kind of a deadline are we talking about?”

“Let me check to make sure I don’t get it wrong.” I jog to the coffee table to get my Filofax, relieved to have an excuse to get some distance between us. Lucy's scent—a delicate citrusy something—is bringing up some intense memories. Memories of things that happened right here in this very room.

I glance up at her after counting weeks on the calendar. “He’d need to be ready to perform in about a month.” I trace a finger over the pages when I can’t get a read on her expression. “We start rehearsal a week from tomorrow, September 6th. We open October 7thbut techs are the weekend before that, so he should be ready to go by then. Is that doable?”

She paces the room. Puck’s eyes track her, already as keyed in to her as I am. On the edge of an emotional cliff, part of me wants her to say,No. I can’t do that. I don’t ever want to see you again.But most of me—not just the baser parts—needs to take this leap.

She stops suddenly and faces me. “I can’t guarantee anything. So you’re going to need a Plan B if he doesn’t pick up the training quickly.”

“We will. We can just use an empty leash if we have to. It just won’t be as good.”

She squats and snaps her fingers. Puck trots over to sit in front of her, making it look easy. “This is going to take some time. Not just me with him, but you and me with him.” She stands to point at me, a no-nonsense expression on her face. “You need as much training as he does, if not more. You’ll have homework. Things you’ll have to practice many, many times a day.” She gives me a look I’ve seen before, only last time she was straddling me on the couch I’m currently gripping to keep my hands off of her. “And it’s not going to be cheap.”

My heart thumps in time with Puck’s tail. “That’s fine. Sure. When do you want to start?”

She checks her watch. “I’ve got to go home right now and make dinner. Lucky for you, I only work till three on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, so I can meet you tomorrow at four.” She pulls a folded piece of paper out of her back pocket. “Here are my rates and a little description of the training process. If you want to do it, I’ll need a check tomorrow.”

Whatever it costs, I’ll pay it. It’s all I can do. I get it now. I’ve been waiting for her for seven years. I’m not giving her up this time around.

“Guess you and I are going back to school, buddy.” I meet her fierce gaze. “See you tomorrow, Lucy.”

A breathy little sound escapes her lips before she nods curtly, spins on her heel and bangs out my front door.

At the sound of the purposeful knock on my front door promptly at four the next day, Puck leaps off the couch and barks excitedly. I follow, wishing I could do the same. As I’ve been unable to settle on any task, the past hour has been an unproductive one. The past twenty-four hours, I’ve spent way too much time obsessing over memories.

Memories that I need to lock away pronto. She’s doing me a favor. Yeah, I’m paying her, but she’s not just making time for us in her busy schedule. She’s choosing to rise above the store of resentment she must harbor toward me. I owe it to her to keep things professional. So, dialing my expression to a pleasant smile, I pick up Puck and open the door.

Before I can say a word, she sweeps past me. “One of the first things we’ll need to work on is thequietcommand. We’ll start inside this afternoon, and you should also practice without distractions until you’ve got thesit,stay,downandheelcommands, but??—?”

She breaks off, her eyes locked on the wall behind me. After she left last night, I unpacked a box I’d had sent when I decided to stay all summer, and put up a framed photo of Tony and me at age twelve, grinning proudly at the camera as we hold up a Little League trophy. And one of Lucy. It’s kind of an arty shot, one I took of her sleeping. Her face is hidden under her hair, but her shoulders and neck are visible and it’s obvious that she’s naked under the tangled sheets. Only the two of us know that it’s her.

She coughs once but doesn’t say anything about the pictures. Instead she tosses her bag onto a chair and focuses on Puck. “Let’s see what you know, little man.”

She takes him through a series of commands. He responds to each without hesitation. Either someone taught him these things already, or she’s a genius. I figure it’s a bit of both.

Lips pursed, she looks me in the eye for the first time since her arrival. Pulling a Ziploc bag from a pocket, she tosses it to me. “It looks like you’re definitely the one who needs the training.”

I fumble the catch but manage to grab it before Puck does.

“This is to get you started, but you’ll need to pick up more treats that size. We’ll try to get to the point where he’s cued either by a hand signal or maybe something in your dialogue onstage, but you should tell them you’ll need a pocket in your costume for treats, just in case.”

I grab the notebook I started for the show, which is already stuffed with images I xeroxed at the library, as well as other research. I flip open to a new page and write “CRAB”—the name Shakespeare gave Launce’s dog—and then make a note about pockets. I show Lucy a photocopy of an old Marine uniform. “I think I’ll be wearing something like this, but I’ll talk to the designer to make sure.”

For the next hour, Lucy’s in the bossy mode that Tony used to tease her about as she runs me through my paces. I’m a bit concerned about how she wants me talk to him: gruff and low for commands, high-pitched for praise. Both sound ridiculous. She assures me that once Puck and I establish a strong connection, I’ll be able to drop the verbal cues.

Then she lays out my homework: practicing everything in no fewer than ten short sessions every day. “Normally, I’d say five is enough, but you’ve got a tight schedule and we need to get these solid so you can move on to hand signals as well as walking at heel. We’ll also need to introduce distractions.” She blows a sigh past her lips as she looks out the window.

All I can think about is kissing those lips. She kept such a quick pace during the lesson that I was mostly able to keep desire at bay. Before I can ask if she wants to hang out for a bit, she showers Puck with kisses, grabs her bag and practically runs out the door.

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