The Sordid Promise (3 page)

Incessant barking and the sound of a loud party at my new neighbors’ house disrupted the viewing of,
Shark Tank
, my mother’s favorite television show. I continuously turned up the volume, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the loud party.

I screamed, unable to take the noise outside, and moved to the deck.

The moon danced on the murky water, the stars were hard to see due to the neighbors having every light inside and outside their house on. I stood on the end of the deck to investigate. The house was full of guests, who were spilling out into the backyard while obnoxiously shouting and dancing around. A few took a dive in the bay—some weren’t clothed.

I heard the click of a shutter and saw a light flash at me. Concentrating on the sound, I directed my eye to a man not too far from the deck. He was teetering on my mother’s property line while surrounded by a bunch of giggly females. My glare didn’t stop him from taking pictures of me.

I immediately marched over, having not a care that I was wearing clothes that were only suitable for bed; a tight black mid-drift T-shirt and cutoff jogging pants.

He lowered the antique-looking camera away from his face, revealing the same guy I ran into at the park earlier in the day. My steps slowed until a mere few feet stood between us. His friends called to him. He was so still in the moment, I don’t think he heard them. After a time, I didn’t hear them either.

His steely gaze froze at my breasts, reminding me that I wasn’t wearing a bra. His bottom lip disappeared between his teeth for moment before he lazily lifted his eyes to my face. Feeling self-conscious, I folded my arms across my taut nipples.

One of his friends whistled at me and drew a sharp, pointed glance from my new neighbor. With a frown, the catcalling friend threw up his hands and shook his head, relenting under my neighbor’s ire.

He contemplated me again as I began to shiver in slight embarrassment. Removing his striped cardigan sweater, he draped it over my shoulders. I observed his strong and sturdy hands as they fixed the sweater about my shoulders. He smelled like citrus spice—remnants of which had settled on the sweater he placed on my shoulders. The scent recalled a memory. A memory of the only decent guy I’d ever met. He helped me when I was having a hard time, and I never knew his name, nor saw his face. My sense memory kicked in and slightly subdued my anger.

In stillness, we continued to stare at each other. His smile endured despite my frown. I couldn’t deny it. Out his sweats and into a body-hugging button down and slim-fit slacks, with his raven hair styled in a neat, medium taper; he was a
very
attractive man.

I blinked out of our common daze and roughly grabbed the camera from his hands. Stepping to the edge of the property, towards the bay, I tossed it in the water.

With the exception of one gasping woman in particular, the crowd with him began to laugh. The woman, who seemed most bothered by the action, was beautiful to say the least. Her coconut shell complexion was smooth and lightly made up. Her jet hair was gathered in a neat topknot. She had an effortless beauty and an athletic physique.

The man before me furrowed his brow with a frown. “I gave you my sweater…” He turned stiffly to the bay with a look of befuddlement. “…saved your phone from the shatter screen of death, and offered to buy you a coffee, even though you were a severe bitch to me. In return, you destroy a really fucking expensive camera? Seems like a fucked up trade off.”

“You shouldn’t take pictures of people without prior permission,” I retorted.

“I get that…now. Apologize for that, even though it seems pointless now. Don’t you think your reaction was a little severe?”

“Now that you understand what you did was wrong, I don’t think it was
that
severe.”

He rolled his eyes to the sky, shoving his hands inside the pockets of his denim jeans with his thumbs out. “Destroying a priceless camera to prove a point…” He held me in his gaze with a frigid front. “…isn’t severe to you?”

“I told you, Eric,” said the beautiful woman as she stepped forward, “this chick looks like she has a little too much crazy to her. She just proved it. It was my camera, by the way, gifted to me by Eric. It was his deceased uncle’s. You should feel like utter shit for what you just did.”

“Estelle.” Eric held out his hand to stop her from her warpath. “Go back inside,” he told her without directly regarding her.

She dropped her eyes to the ground and followed his command.

I folded my arms and arched a brow at Eric. “I thought it was expensive, not priceless. It couldn’t be priceless. Nothing tangible is priceless.”

He narrowed his eyes at me through a scowl. “I know you said something about not being human—hell, you look like a cute human girl to me. You may not act like one—you have no idea what I went through to get that camera.”

“So it wasn’t that it was priceless or expensive, it had sentimental value? You shouldn’t place your emotions into tangible things that can be broken.”

“I don’t know whether to take you over my knee, or walk away before I say something that’s going to show you how pissed off I am. I think I’ll do the second. Seeing as though we’re direct neighbors, I’ll be sure to avoid you in the future. Fuck me over once. Fine. Fuck me over twice, and I’ll be damned if you get a third chance.” He plodded away.

That was odd.
I wouldn’t have counted our brief interaction in the park as a time in which I ‘fucked’ him over. “Wait!” I called after him as I tugged on the hem of the sweater. “Your sweater.” It was too late. He was gone.

As the crowd continued to leer and snicker at me, I turned to the bay, contemplating if what I did was really so wrong.

Before diving in the water to retrieve the camera, I tossed off Eric’s sweater and kicked off my shoes. I searched the murky bottom floor for where the camera dropped.

I found it…just barely.

I took the camera home with me and set it on the dining room table.

While shivering and dripping wet, I sat in the leather wingback chair as I examined what I ruined.

After I found the make and model name: Leica M9, I retrieved my tablet to search for a similar camera. My timer went off, reminding me that it was time to take my nightly dose of medication. I decided against skipping it and moved to my bathroom upstairs.

I stretched my legs as I stood on the sidewalk in front of my mother’s house. The fog floated thickly as dawn began to break. I popped in my earbuds, ready to walk to the park that no one else in the neighborhood cared to frequent.

My stride was immediately broken by a full-grown Rottweiler, who stood in my way. Her tail remained still as the hair on the back of her neck bristled. A black collar full of pink crystals adorned her neck. Unafraid, I stepped forward as she began to growl.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Mrs. Hobbins scolded me from her mailbox post with a bat in hand. She was hard to miss in her head-to-toe bright pink jogging suit with a matching sweatband. “That mongrel has already mauled one dog in the neighborhood. Mangy thing needs to be shot. They never lock ‘em up. They just let ‘em run around.”

Ignoring her advice, I stepped forward with my shoulders strong. I wasn’t going to submit to her. It was clear someone needed to alpha her.

She made a move like she was going to lunge, so I stood stronger. “Don’t you dare.” I pointed to her. “Sit.”

She licked her chops and stepped backwards. I bent down. Pacing myself, I grabbed her collar, and lightly placed my hand on her spine. She began to growl, resisting against my attempt to dominate her. “I’m not trying to hurt you, dog. I need to get you home, but I can’t do that unless you give in. If you work with me, there is a nice slab of raw meat in it for you. I know you’re a smart girl. You know I won’t hurt you. Now…sit.”

As she looked in my eyes, I stared back even stronger. She tossed her hips and eventually sat down, breaking my eye contact.

From across the street, Mrs. Hobbins gasped.

I took my new friend by the collar, walking her to the neighbors’ house. Since I’d never saw her in the neighborhood before, I figured she belonged to the new arrivals. She was without name tags to indicate whether or not I was wrong.

Already upset, because I wouldn’t have time to go to the park before I went to the hospital, I was in a less than stellar mood when I knocked on the door.

No one seemed to be home. The house was dark and there wasn’t a single car in the driveway. I waited on the steps until dawn broke and the dog began to impatiently whine.

“Come on, girl. Not safe out here. People are watching us, waiting to talk to us, and we don’t want that.” I guided her by the collar to follow me home. Halfway there, she began to follow me on her own.

I searched around my freezer and found a steak for the dog to eat. I defrosted it in the microwave for her. Serving her the steak raw, I added a few fresh blueberries and green beans to the mix. While I watched her eat, I contemplated what I was going to do with her when I left.

After following me around the house for a while, I let her out back to relieve herself in the yard that surrounded the boat deck. She sniffed around and did her business. At which point, she found a dirty tennis ball and dropped it on my foot.

An hour of play later, my medication alert went off. It was also far past time I started toward the hospital.

I went inside, ready to try and return the dog to my neighbors again, but she jumped on the couch, nested, and looked at me through drooping eyes.

With a small smile, I decided to let her stay.

My mother wasn’t awake when I got to the hospital, which was unusual for her. It meant that her pain was so severe, she couldn’t hold out and wait for my arrival. She also couldn’t hurry and access her makeup bag to hide the remnants that she wasn’t well, as she usually did.

I used to envy how beautiful my mother was. Beauty she claimed she gave to me, but I never saw it—especially not lately. When I still lived at home, I marveled every morning at how well dressed and made up my mother was before she went to work. She was and would always be the most beautiful woman I’d ever known.

I touched her forehead—it felt clammy. Her breathing was shallow, labored.

Janet came in with a white coat behind her. “Nikki? This is Dr. Brenton. The doctor I wanted you to meet.”

Realizing who the doctor she wanted me to meet was, I was a little stunned.

Eric’s lids slowly lifted as his light brown eyes peered at me from underneath his thick eyelashes. He fought back a creeping smile as he contemplated me.

I looked over his white coat, wondering why he didn’t have the hospital insignia embroidered on his jacket like all the other doctors. “Fitting.”

His face dropped. “Excuse me?” he asked with total disregard to his normal niceties.

Unfazed, I eyed him from head to toe with a sour look on my face. “Your personality suits one of a doctor.”

Eric glanced at Janet, who gave him an uneasy shrug. He shot his gaze back at me.

“I don’t need you to speak to me. I get the same speech every few weeks. They lead in with the ‘we’re just trying to make her comfortable’ to guise the fact that she’s dying. She signed a DNR order. She knows what’s coming and so do I. Just do your job and give the orders to up her morphine, so she can
really
be comfortable.” I popped my earbuds back in my ears and turned around.