Page 47 of Forget About Me

“Kirk, enough.”

“All right, all right, but you’re mine as soon as you get back. You need to get a pager so I can get through to you. I’m going to line up a couple meetings that week.”

I take a deep breath and blow it out again. Kirk took me under his wing when I was a scrawny kid with a busted leg. After I graduated and my internship was done, he hired me. I owe my entire career to him, so it’s hard for me to stand my ground. “Kirk, listen, I’m not sure what my plans are after this. So please don’t make any commitments beyond my current obligations to CK.”

Deafening silence echoes from his end of the line, a rarity with Kirk. Maybe he has another call coming in. “Ben. I think you’re making a mistake here.” I can hear the strain in his voice. “When you get back, we’ll sit down and talk. Just you and me. Meanwhile, no more photo shoots that I don’t know about. I haven’t heard from the CK people, but this is technically in violation of your contract.”

“I didn’t get paid for it. It was a PR thing for the theater.”

“It doesn’t matter. They have control of your image. The beard might actually work for you in this case. You’re almost unrecognizable. Hopefully, no one will see it.”

I stifle a grunt. “No one” to Kirk means no one in LA or New York. The half a million people who live in Boston don’t count. “Okay, Kirk.”

“I mean it. No more pictures.”

“I heard you.”

“And get a pager.”

Biting back a groan, I cave. “I will get a pager if you will only use it when it’s really necessary.”

“Sure, no problem. Get the number to my girl. Gotta jump. Another call coming in. Catch you in a couple weeks.”

“Will do.”

And he’s gone. I can breathe again. Until it hits me. The clock is ticking down. Everything in me wants to use the time I have left to convince Lucy that we should be together. I’m just not sure it’s the right thing to do.

For her or for me.

What if dragging up the past just makes her hate me—or herself—all over again?

LUCY

When I walk into the staff room Monday morning, Deanna slaps a stack ofWhile You Were Outslips onto the table. “Messages. For you.” She points to more pinned on the corkboard. “Jesus, Lucy. You’re gonna have to get a service.”

Giving my locker the usual shove to get it to close all the way, I give the papers a wide berth as I fill my pockets with treats and clean instruments.

Deanna looks like she’s about to explode. “Aren’t you at least curious?”

“I guess?” I leaf through the thick pink pile. They’re all names I don’t recognize, and they all want me to call them back. “Who are these people?”

“All these people left messages on the machine. Sorry, but I gave up writing down the particulars. It took me forever as it was.” She jabs a finger at the pile. “Every single one of ’em saw you in the paper and wants you to fix their pets.” She barks out a single laugh. “Good luck with that. And you’re up in exam four,” she calls from the hallway.

“Okay, thanks,” I mumble as I shuffle through them.

What am I going to do with all this? On the one hand, the idea of all these potential clients is exciting. A dream come true, even. But how will I find the time? My family depends on me to keep the household running smoothly, not to mention my full-time job. Or the fact that I don’t really know what I’m doing.

“Lucy. Exam four.” Deanna’s back in the doorway. “And there’s a waiting room full of patients, so move it.”

The rest of the day flies by in a blur.

I spend my lunch hour calling back about half the people, scheduling appointments with some and politely declining others. I’m halfway confident in my dog-training abilities, but I truly haven’t a clue how to train a ferret. Or a parrot. So far, I’m meeting the owners of four dogs after work this week. Maybe if I’m efficient and only take clients I know I can help, I can make this work. Knowing I’ll be making a difference in the lives of these pets will give me the extra energy I need to make it through longer days.

Good thing Ben doesn’t need me anymore.

Because I have to be good and that has to be enough.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

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