Page 32 of Situationship
daughter and they’ll never find your body.
—Unknown
“That’s not a service we really provide,” Colin said, wondering which one of the gods he’d pissed off. He wasn’t a Greek scholar but whichever one liked to cause chaos was clearly behind the fuckery of the past few days.
“I’ll pay extra. Whatever you want because this isn’t a normal problem,” Gary said.
“Why don’t you take a seat, Mr. Kent, and tell me what’s going on.” Because it must be dire. Gary’s hair was standing on end, his scruff was three days old, and his bloodshot eyes said he hadn’t slept in a week.
Instead of sitting, Gary paced back and forth in the ten-by-twelve exam room, which only took three steps. At six-four and two-hundred-twenty pounds, with a dozen different tattoos on his arms, Gary didn’t seem like an easily frazzled person. But the man was good and gone.
“I’ve got a daughter. Vivi. She plays varsity volleyball for Monterey High.”
“Congratulations?”
Vet visits were about as much fun as going to the dentist. But this guy’s response was different, almost as if Gary were borderline hysterical—a word he’d never ever use around Maddie.
Wanting to get back on track, Colin asked, “Is Ulysses showing any unusual behavior?” Colin ran his hands down the dog’s sides and flanks, gently pushing on the kidneys and stomach. “What has you concerned?”
“Oh, she’s good. That’s what has me concerned.”
“Ulysses?”
“No, Vivi.” Gary ran a hand down his face. “She’s better than good. Too good. So good that she’s one of a handful of high school volleyball players picked to play on the premiere division’s beach volleyball team.”
Colin was used to wearing a therapist’s hat. Between clients losing pets and the stress that accompanies procedures on beloved fur-babies, that one psychology class he’d taken during premed had more than paid off. But this was the first time he’d been asked to weigh in on family matters. After the last few weeks of drama with his own kid, he wasn’t sure he was qualified.
Out of solidarity, Colin extended a bro-branch. “How does Vivi feel about the summer program?”
“She’s over the moon. But the uniforms. God, those uniforms. They’re going to give me an aneurism.” Gary was back to pacing. “Overnight, she went from playing dress-up to dressing like she’s in training to be on the cover ofSports Illustrated. Which is why I need Ulysses’s . . . you know?”
Colin didn’t know what Ulysses’syou knowhad to do with it, but he felt Gary’s pain.
Lately, Maddie had been testing the limits—on everything. It started after her birthday, when her mom reneged on her promise to fly Maddie to New York for spring break. Seemed Amanda’s stepson was taking the semester off and was living with her, and she didn’t want the added stress of trying, after all these years, to “blend” the families. That’s when Maddie’s ’tude went supersonic.
For a while, Colin let it slide. Gave her a pass. Until last Friday when she lied about sleeping at her cousin’s to go to a party. His brother, Ethan, thought the girls were at Colin’s, Colin thought the opposite, and the little sneaks thought they’d get away with it.
They failed to see the hole in their scheme. Colin had practically written the Successful Sneak Handbook. Doors, windows, trellises, trees, he knew all the tricks. Including when to trust his intuition.
That night, his Spidey senses tingled. Kind of the way they’d reacted when he’d spied the grape juice stain on Teagan’s shirt—the cleavage part.
“And what does Ulysses have to do with this?”
“His testicles. After you castrate him, of course.”
At the word, Ulysses whimpered, then put his butt firmly on the concrete floor, guarding his testicles from any jars that might be present.
“We call it neutering.” Colin gave the dog a reassuring pet, then rolled his chair over and took a seat, leaning in, making sure his posture conveyed openness to reassure Gary.
“Call it what you like, but I want to keep them. I mean, I don’t want to hold them—I want them in a jar. Preserved in liquid so I can place it on my desk. That way when some punk from school decides to hit on my Vivi, I can bring him into my office and explain what happened to the last punk who hit on her.”
Colin’s pocket vibrated. Speaking of testicles, he’d give his left one to be at a poker game with the guys, a good hand, a cold beer, and his phone on the bottom of the Pacific.
“Do you need to get that, Doc?”
Colin paused. “You heard that? It’s in my pocket on silence.”
“Dad hearing. It comes with having five daughters.”
