Page 13 of Wreck Me

“I’m nothing if not nice, bro!” The sign for Placard came into view. “Okay, I’m almost there. I’ll update up later.”

Vince said goodbye, and Nico clicked off as he got within sight of the house. The tall weeds in the lot to the south were bending and flowing like waves on the ocean, and a tiny tornado of leaves blew in a crazy eddy up the porch stairs. There was no sign of the dogs, and no sign of Ginny. With those dogs around, she probably hadn’t been spending much time outside as of late. The music was certainly just as loud as when he’d left, with every word clear as a bell even through his rolled-up car windows.

Twang, twang, twang!

Nico grinned as he rubbed his hands together in evil triumph—that greedy squatter waif must be losing whatever pathetic shreds remained of her unstable little mind.

Using an app on his phone, Nico had the power to turn the music on or off or change its volume. Pulling up the app, he hovered his finger over the “Stop” button. It would be nice not to have to deal with the song while he was trying to get her to sign the papers. But he quickly slipped the phone back intohis pocket. Any auditory relief might decrease her willingness to submit to his demands.

The second he turned off the engine, all three dogs came barreling toward him from the back of the empty lot, making his heart jump.

Bark, bark, bark! Twang, Twang, Twang! Bark, bark, bark!

It hardly seemed possible, but the dogs looked even more menacing than before as they threw themselves against the flimsy-looking fence again and again like demonic battering rams. Was the song driving them crazy, too? The poor creatures certainly didn't deserve that. The generous gift he intended to give to the dog rescue mentally doubled in size.

But, since he had to walk past them to get to the house, he suddenly wished he had an app for turning the dogs off, too. Maybe he and Ginny could conduct their business over the phone? He dialed her number, but she didn’t answer.

Taking his time, he rolled up the legal papers and wrapped a rubber band around them, securing them against the wind that was ceaselessly buffeting his car, until a glance at the clock got him moving. Eleven am. If he got this over with quickly, he’d squeeze in a stromboli at Bruno’s—he and his brother’s favorite hang-out spot when they were teens—before his one o’clock meeting at the realty company. The reality team had finalized the listing details and wanted his approval of the photos and wording.

He called Ginny again, but no one answered. She had to be home. Annoying. Well, there was nothing for it. He’d have to exit his car and trust the fence to remain upright. It looked solid enough.

The dogs went bananas as he began the short walk to the house.

Bark, bark, bark! Twang, twang, twang! Bark, bark, bark!

He’d paid a guy to stop by once a day and give them food and water, but still, there was a look in their collective, beady eyes that said “lunch” as they growled and snarled at him. Suddenly, the largest of the three—a big, brindle mutt with a square block of a head and a missing ear—hooked his front paws over the top of the fence and began heaving himself up using his back feet! Nico watched in mounting terror as the dog struggled up and over, then launched himself like a solid muscle rocket toward Nico. The remaining two dogs immediately followed suit. Spit flew from their bared lips, and time seemed to slow.

He couldn’t possibly outrun them, so he had a split second to decide whether to face them straight on, using his height to his advantage, or curl into a ball on the ground to protect his face and vital organs. He decided to go down fighting. Puffing up his chest, he turned toward them. He was about to shout the last sounds he might ever emit on this earth, when all three dogs ran straight past him as if he were invisible.

Spinning around, he spotted Ginny, who must have just walked round from the rear of the house. In heavy-looking jeans, a faded army green work jacket, and covered in some kind of blonde-colored dust, she was now surrounded by leaping, tail wagging pooches, each one of them nearly as big as she was. The wind whipped wildly at her jacket and hair, giving her the look of a Victorian woman hiking the Scottish moors with her hunting dogs.

“Aw, Mick, you got an extra itchy ear this morning, huh?” she said loudly over the music to the largest dog as she gave its sole remaining ear a two-handed scratching. “I give you some satisfaction.” A middle-sized brown dog nosed the brindle one away. “You got the itchies today too, Jumpin’ Jack? Ya big lug,” she said as she rubbed its neck and chin. The third dog, white with large, mottled light-gray patches, hung back, but Ginny called her forward. “C’mon, Angie, I love you too, baby,” shecooed. Angie’s tail wagged so hard that the dog’s entire rear half had no choice but to wag along.

Watching the dogs—to whom Ginny had cheekily given names from Rolling Stones songs—Nico’s emotions ranged from relief that he would get to keep his face and viscera, to amazement that, in the span of forty-eight hours, this woman had turned the least adoptable dogs in all LA County into giant, docile puppies. Finally, he remembered that the dogs were supposed to be doing a very important job for him and were quite plainly failing at it. Perhaps his donation to the dog rescue wouldn’t be so large after all.

“So, I guess they aren’t that mean,” he said loudly over the music, his adrenaline-shaking arms hanging limp at his sides.

Ginny, still petting the dogs, didn’t so much as glance his way.

“I said,” he began, practically screaming this time, “I guess the dogs aren’t so mean.”

Again, Ginny just kept petting the dog mass as it swirled happily round her legs. Nico was reminded of how she’d intentionally ignored him after her paint had fallen on his head. He stepped closer and noticed some purple objects poking out from her ears. Ear plugs?

He stretched out an arm and tapped her on the shoulder. When she finally looked up at him, he said, for the third time, “Looks like the dogs aren’t mean after all.”

With both hands, she pointed to her ears as she yelled with exaggerated consonants, “I can’t hardly hear anything with these in. They’re made for industrial use.” She gave him a helpless sort of shrug and, not looking the least bit sorry, added, “So sorry!”

He pulled his head back in surprise. Did earplugs exist that could block out this much sound? It didn’t seem possible. She was playing more of her mental games. For now, he’d go along.“Can you take them out so we can talk?” he said, as he mimed removing the ear plugs.

She leaned toward him and gestured for him to lean toward her. He did so, and when her face was inches from his right ear, she boomed, “You want me to take them out?”

He staggered back, grimacing and pressing a finger into his ear. His eardrum had just developed a brand new, Ginny-pitched ringing.

Straightening back up, she shook her head. “I’m keeping them for now but…” Her eyes suddenly widened as she sucked in a breath. “Can you feel it coming?” Grinning, she stuck her index finger into her mouth, then pulled it out and held it high in the air as if she were checking the direction of the still roiling wind. “It shouldn't be much longer!”

“What shouldn’t be—” he began, but she spoke over him.

“Woohoo!” she yelled excitedly. She threw both arms out to her sides with child-like glee and began to spin in a circle. “Here it comes!”

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