Page 4 of Honkers Under the Holly

“I’m gonna head out. Let you get your beauty sleep.”

She blinked at me and something flashed through her eyes, but she nodded and stood up, stretching.

She walked me to the door, a soft smile on her face. “Thank you again, Mac. For everything.”

“Anytime,” I replied, meaning it more than I’d ever meant anything in my life.

Just as I was about to leave, a loud honk came from the living room, followed by the sound of flapping wings and a crash.

Sara Jayne’s eyes widened in panic. “Oh no, Sir Honksalot.”

We rushed back to find the goose had somehow escaped his pen and was now proudly perched atop the TV, which was upside down with a shattered screen.

Of course, that was the exact moment Sara Jayne’s roommates got home. They took in the scene, and the one who’d chastised her before fixed Sara Jayne with a steely glare. “That’s it. The goose goes, or you do. You have until the end of the week to decide.”

The roommate slammed her door shut, and Sara turned to me, her eyes filling with tears. “Oh Mac, I can’t abandon Sir Honksalot, but no way will I ever be able to afford to move out onmy own. I’m barely getting enough gigs to keep up with the rent of this place.”

I looked at Sara Jayne, then at Sir Honksalot, who seemed far too pleased with himself, and a crazy idea formed in my sleep deprived brain. “I might have a solution. Hear me out.”

A MODEL DILEMMA

The incessant honking pierced through my dreams, dragging me back to consciousness. I blinked, disoriented, as sunlight streamed through the blurry curtains. What time was it?

I sat up, rubbing my eyes. “I’m coming, Sir Honksalot. Keep your feathers on.”

As if on cue, another honk echoed through the apartment, followed by an aggravated groan from the next room. Right. My roommates. Who were probably plotting goose-icide at this very moment. None of us were early risers, but thank goodness Honksalot had woken me up before noon. I had an appointment at the agency this afternoon.

I padded into the living room to find Sir Honksalot parading around his cushion fort, head held high like he owned the place. Which, given the events of last night, he kind of did.

“Good morning, Your Honkness,” I said, scooping him up. He nuzzled into my neck, surprisingly affectionate for a bird I’d known less than twenty-four hours. “Let’s get you some brunch before the natives revolt.”

I rummaged through the lackluster fridge contents looking for a meal to prepare for both Sir Honksalots and me. Ourchoices were salad or salad. Sigh. What did everyone have against carbs? “Kale or cabbage, buddy?”

The goose eyed the salad suspiciously before deigning to take a bite. As he munched, I leaned against the counter. I’d much rather be hanging out with Mac again than what I had to do today. Mac’s strong arms holding my rescue goose... and me. Kissing like that one last night. The hours we spent talking...

Sir Honksalot flung a piece of kale at my face. He was way more excited about greens than I was.

His potential solution was as intriguing as it was vague. What could a sports agent’s client possibly do with a goose? Start a water polo team?

I shook my head. “We can’t pin all our hopes on a guy we just met, Honksy. No matter how impressive his... problem-solving skills are.”

Sir Honksalot made a soft snuffling sound, almost as if he was agreeing with me... or he was just enjoying his food. I really needed to make some friends who weren’t of the avian variety.

“But it’s not like I know what I’m going to do with you. You got any ideas?” I asked him, stroking his feathers.

He responded with one loud honk, then turning his attention back to his breakfast.

A door slammed, jolting us both from our breakfast. My roommate Zoe stormed into the kitchen, her face a thundercloud.

“Sara Jayne,” she said, her voice dangerously calm. “Why is there a goose eating my organic kale?”

I glanced down. Sir Honksalot had his beak buried in the bowl of fancy greens. “Um... he has expensive organic taste?”

Zoe was not amused. “This isn’t funny, Sara Jayne. That bird has to go. Do you know how much noise he made this morning while we were all trying to sleep? I have a big shoot today, and I’m gonna look like the marshmallow man sat on my face.”

“I’m sorry, Zoe. I’ll find him a new home, I promise. I just need a little time.” Or for a particularly sexy sports agent to come to our rescue, again.

She crossed her arms. “There are plenty of models, who are actually working and can pay their rent on time who would love to take your half of that room. You have until Friday. After that, it’s you or the goose.”

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