Page 94 of You Spin Me

“You don’t want to go somewhere?”

“Eating out can be weird for me.” Before she can argue, I add, “Plus, I’ve got Blondie.”

She crosses her arms. “I’ll get lunch with you if we walk to get it and bring it back here.”

At the wordwalk, Blondie barks. “Blondie, enough.”

Jess squats and strokes both sides of the dog’s furry face. “Poor girl. You’re not getting enough walks these days, are you?” Blondie whines. “You used to walk her?—”

“Stop saying that word. You’re making her crazy.”

“Sorry, sweet girl.” Standing, she pokes me in the chest. “You used to take her out after your shift, right? Now she’s not getting the exercise she used to. That’d make me squirrelly.”

That word gets Blondie going too. “Oh my god, stop talking. Okay, we can W-A-L-K to a Thai place on the other side of the Fens.”

Smile back on her face, Jess loops her arm in mine. “Perfect.”

Outside, the sun, warm with the promise of spring, has lured lots of people out. When Jess demands that we cut through the Fen gardens rather than stay on Boylston Street, I’m happy to do so, thinking we’ll avoid human traffic that way. I enjoy watching both of my girls running around outside so much, I don’t notice until too late that the path takes us right by the playground at Mother’s Rest. Before we can get past it, a little girl comes running straight at us, her mother a few steps behind.

When she gets close, the girl looks me right in the face. “Can I pet your dog?”

Caught off guard at the question, I mumble, “Um, sure. Hang on. Blondie, sit.”

The moment my dog’s butt hits the ground, the girl’s tiny hand reaches up to stroke her scruffy neck. The mom’s gaze flicks to my scars briefly, but she’s obviously more concerned about the proximity of her child’s hand to the jaws of a German shepherd than she is with the state of my face.

By the time Blondie’s rolled over to expose her belly, she’s got them both charmed. Studying the dog’s face, the girl asks, “Why does she only have one eye?”

I join her and scratch under Blondie’s chin. “She was a police dog, and she got injured in the line of duty.”

“Poor doggie. You must be very brave,” the girl coos. Then she looks at me. Her brow wrinkling, she asks, “Did you get injured in the line of duty too?”

Letting down my guard seems to have erased the prepared speech from my brain. “No, I, uh?—”

“Jenny, I think that’s enough,” the mom says. Mouthing “sorry” to me, she pulls her daughter to her feet. “Say thank you.”

“Thank you,” Jenny says obediently. Then, patting me on the arm, she continues, “You must be very brave too.”

Chapter27

And now, the WBAR corporation is proud to present another instant-classic super spectacular, a little-known Shakespearean tragedy: “Henry the Eighth.” Whoa, dude. Heavy. Right, man. Don’t lose your head over it.

JESS

Wednesday night, when I find Bella waiting for me in the lobby of Shakespeare Boston’s winter home, I give her a big hug and whisper, “It’s a good thing you bought the tickets ahead. Only the thought that I’d be wasting your money got me here tonight.”

She puts on a pouty face. “Standing me up wasn’t enough?”

“I can’t even tell you how tired I am,” I moan.

“Jess, I suffered through months of dealing with a baby that never slept more than three hours in a row. You have no idea what tired looks like.”

“Damn. You always win with the mom card.”

“So, what’s got you so tired? Hot sex every night? This is where I lose with the mom card, you know.”

Her smile tells me that she’s kidding. Mostly. Bella only drops hints about what she calls her “checkered past.” But this is not the time nor place to be flapping dirty laundry about.

“Tickets?” When we hand them over, the usher recognizes us, and her smile shifts from professional to personal. “Oh, how nice to see you girls. I’m so sad you’re not in this play.”

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