“Nope. If you would like to name one of them, then by all means.”
“I—”
“Okay, Dick and Harry it is. Let me know if you need any help.”
“Just get in the damn truck. Please.”
Smiling, I do as he asks. I know it killed him to add the word please to his demand, and it makes me laugh. Turning on the ignition, I blast the heat and then angle myself to watch the show.
Every few minutes, I see Loki dart across the open doorway, but so far, Dick and Harry are still inside. After twenty minutes, I take out the phone Ashton gave me.
“You can do everything you would normally do with this, but keep conversations short and infrequent. We will route all of your data through our office in Tokyo, so anything you send will appear as if you’re in Japan.”
“Social media is a huge part of my business. Can I still Google, post, Snap, Tok—”
“Sloane,” he interrupts. “If you must post something, send it to me, and I’ll post it for you, but yes, you can Google.”
“I don’t need a freaking babysitter, Ashton.”
“It’s not for content, Sloane. It’s so I can make sure nothing inadvertently shows up in the background that can lead people to you.”
“Oh …”
“Yeah, oh. This is serious, Sloane. I know you need to work, but put everything you do into perspective for the time being, okay? It’s all about safety.”
Jesus, that was a sobering conversation. But, knowing I have permission to Google, I look up raccoons and what I learn is fascinating. It’s also likely to piss Loki off. Ten more minutes pass, and he still hasn’t come out, so I turn off the car and make my way inside.
“Don’t move, Red. They have babies or something over there, and they get pissed if you get too close.”
“They’re kits,” I tell him.
“Please. Please don’t tell me you’ve named them, too.”
“No, I mean raccoon babies are called kits. I looked them up in the car to see if there were any suggestions for removing them.”
“Yeah? What did you find out?” he asks from across the room.
“Ah, the MSPCA basically says to let them have your house until the kits are old—”
“That will not happen,” he interrupts.
“Yeah, I figured. Then we have to annoy them.”
“You want me to piss off two protective raccoons?”
“The website says to play music and shine lights on them. The adults should leave. If they don’t take the kits, we have to relocate them and make sure the parents know where they are. Then you have to find their entry point.” Glancing around, I see the fireplace. “It’s most likely the fireplace.”
“Okay, leave the door open and slowly make your way to me. Hopefully, we can harass them enough they leave without attacking us.”
I do as he asks, and when I reach him, he steps in front of me. Glancing over his shoulder, he asks, “What now?”
“We play music,” I tell him. Removing the phone from my pocket, I pull up my playlist. I’m glad Ashton thought to transfer that. I need my playlists for writing. After scrolling until I find what I’m looking for, I turn the volume up full blast and hit play.
“Milkshake” by Kelis comes on, and Loki glances at me over his shoulder. His expression is priceless.
“This is what you choose to irritate a couple of raccoons?”
“Hey, if a milkshake can bring the boys to the yard, it can get Dick and Harry to the mountain, too.”