KD Robichaux- Wish he was you (The Blogger Diaries Trilogy Book 2) Page 9

  You just go around these worlds and kill shit, leveling up and buying more powerful weapons and armor, but what’s cool is you play as a team, not against each other. It’s much better than just sitting around watching him play crap I have no interest in.

  How did the date with that chick go? Was she as cool as she seemed on MySpace?

  Apparently, she is. Jason and I still write back and forth to each other, but not as often. Between him working and dating this new girl, I get a message from him maybe twice a week at most, when I had been used to talking to him about twice a day. We hadn’t actually spoken to each other on the phone since that day in Anni’s kitchen, but the messages had been like a lifeline. I could reread them while I waited for his next response.

  Without his letters to look forward to every day, I slip back into old habits, drinking every night with Aiden and his friends, when before, I’d just go to bed early while he stayed up and hung out with them. Our apartment was hardly ever empty. I guess making my dining room look like a pub wasn’t the brightest idea I ever had, accidentally creating a party place for everyone to come hang out when they didn’t want to go to a bar or club.

  Aiden and my relationship is…weird. It’s like we’re roommates with benefits or something. Not what I imagined married life would be like. Every day is always the same. We wake up around eleven, he goes to work from noon to eight, and I go to work from two to seven. Getting off an hour ahead of him, I get home and make us dinner, and we eat it on the couch while we either watch a movie or play our video game. If one of his friends doesn’t come over, we usually stay up pretty late just the two of us, or I’ll go to bed while he stays up to play by himself.

  On the weekends, it’s just the same as it was before he deployed. Party, party, party. Either at a friend’s place, or out at the bar. I’m actually grateful for it now, with the thought of Jason seeing another girl, being so into her he doesn’t hardly writes me anymore. When he does though, I cherish every word. And I value every word of advice he gives me when I write him with a problem.

  From: Kayla Lanmon

  May 13, 2006

  I am so fucking pissed off right now!!! How many times have I read one of my steamy books and pranced around naked in front of that asshole, trying to pull his attention away from that goddamn PlayStation, only for him to ignore me, not even LOOK at me. And do you know what I just found? Aiden. In the bathroom. Sitting on the fucking toilet. Looking at porn on his phone and jacking off.

  Seriously? We were in the middle of watching a movie we rented, at two in the afternoon on a Saturday, and he said he’d be right back. He was gone a while, so I went back to check on him, make sure he was okay, and I opened the door and he was fucking cranking one out! I grabbed his phone out of his hand and looked, and he has pictures on his phone of blonde-haired, big-breasted skanks from porn sites.

  I don’t know what pisses me off the most. The fact he was doing it in the middle of the day, when we were in the middle of watching a movie together, what the girls look like who he fantasizes about—which is the complete opposite of flat-chested, brunette me—or the fact I make it obvious I’m here whenever he wants me, but he chooses to jack off.

  He fed me some bullshit about being too tired to have sex, but still wanted to get off really quick. Oh, yeah, because it takes so much energy for you just to lie there while I do all the fucking work as usual. He had no excuse for the porn. He just stuttered and babbled incoherently.

  Oh, my God, I don’t even know what to do with myself right now.

  I ended up pressing send and then crying myself to sleep in bed.

  For comfort, for solace, for the end of my broken heart

  The next morning, when I wake up, Aiden is already up and ready for the day. He tells me to get dressed, that he is taking me somewhere. He won’t tell me where. I’m not really in the mood for his bullshit, but I’ll take any opportunity to get out of the apartment.

  I’m surprised when he pulls into Anni’s apartment complex, and when we pull up out front of her unit, I see her trot down the stairs, her big red purse slung over her shoulder. She opens the back driver’s side door and hops in, and after closing it behind her she looks at me with a grin and says excitedly, “Let’s go pick out your puppy!”

  “What?” I look between her and Aiden, and then back again, completely confused.

  “Yeah, dipshit here called me last night asking what he could do to make up for some indiscretion he wouldn’t give me details about—you can tell me later,” she stage whispers. “I told him while he was deployed you couldn’t wait to find an apartment when he got back, and the main prerequisite of said apartment was that it had to allow pets, because you wanted to get a dog. On your apartment’s website, it just says the dog must be under twenty-five pounds, so we’re going to the haven in Raeford to see if there’s a furbaby you want to bring home,” Anni explains.

  “We’re going to get a dog?” I ask, trying to process everything she just said.

  “Yes! The only stipulation is you have to forgive the douchecanoe for whatever stunt he pulled yesterday,” she tells me.

  Oh, if I’m getting a dog, I can pretend to forgive him for being such a sleaze yesterday. I’ll win the Academy Award for my acting skills if it means we’ll go right now and pick out a furbaby. I love Jade, don’t get me wrong, but she’s a cat. You only get to love on her when she allows it. I want a dog so badly, whether it’s a puppy or an adult. It doesn’t matter to me, as long as it’s mine and will snuggle with me.

  I lunge across the center console and kiss Aiden’s cheek, squeaking, “Forgiven!” before bouncing in my chair. “Let’s go, let’s go!”

  He grins and puts the car in reverse, and then we start our trek to Raeford. It takes about forty-five minutes to get to the animal haven, and when we arrive they are just opening. We park and get out of the car, and as we make our way through the gate, a woman walking a big mixed-breed dog greets us. “Hey there, folks. What can I do for ya?”

  “We’re here to find my new baby!” I practically shout. Thankfully, she finds my enthusiasm a good thing, and she asks what exactly we’re looking for. “Well, we live in an apartment, and the only rule is it has to be under twenty-five pounds. I’m not one of those people who has to adopt a puppy, but I also don’t want a senior.”

  “So what we call a teenager would be fine with you. Full-grown, but not about to keel over,” she jokes.

  “Exactly. I’m not picky on breeds. It can be a mutt for all I care, but I want it to be super affectionate. I want a lapdog for sure,” I explain.

  “Ooooh, I think I have the perfect pup for you. You just wait here and I’ll go and get the little fellow,” she tells me with an excited gleam in her eye.

  I stop her before she goes. “What kind of dog is it? I’m just curious.”

  “He’s a sweet little Chihuahua. You’re just going to love him!” she says, and then hurries off with the large dog in tow.

  I turn to Anni with a sneer on my face. “A Chihuahua? Ugh, I don’t want a little rat. I want a dog.”

  “Well, you told her you didn’t care about breed,” she reminds me.

  “Yeah, I guess. I just meant I didn’t care if it was an AKC freakin’ purebred show dog. Oh, well. Let her bring him out. It’s not like we have to go with the first dog she shows us.” I shrug.

  As we stand around waiting for her to bring the Chihuahua out, I take in the haven around us. There is a giant barn directly in the center of the property, and we can hear dozens and dozens of dogs barking inside it. To the left is a smaller building, and if I’m not mistaken, that’s where the sound of cats meowing is coming from. There is a big fenced in area, where I see a couple of horses milling around. As I glance in the direction the woman had gone, I see there are large wire pens that hold small groups of dogs. I can’t tell how they are organized, because there is a mix of all sorts of breeds and sizes in each kennel.

  A few minutes later, the woman returns carrying a tiny
white dog, who is curled against her chest, shivering like it’s below freezing outside and not the ninety degrees it is right now. When she approaches me, she turns him to face me, and I swear on my books, he has tears in his eyes. My face and heart melt instantly at the sight of him, and I reach out to take him from her. When I pull him against my chest, he wiggles up until he can bury his miniature face into my neck, and I’m done for.

  “Oh, my God. This is my baby,” I whimper, rocking the dog back and forth, stroking his back as I feel him sniffling against my throat.

  “I had a feeling,” she tells me with a nod.

  “What’s his story? Why would anyone get rid of such a sweet little guy?” I inquire.

  “Someone found him wandering the woods in Ft. Bragg. Poor thing was about starved to death. It’s a wonder some type of bird of prey didn’t swoop him up. We don’t really know where he came from, but the usual story is a soldier will either get deployed or stationed somewhere else, and instead of taking the time to find the animal a new family, someone to keep it for them while they’re gone, or to bring them to the haven or the pound, they just let them go. I guess hoping someone will take them in,” she explains.

  “Well, that’s just sad,” I say quietly, still stroking the little furball. “Anything else you can tell me about him? Health and all that stuff?”

  “Judging by his teeth and a couple other factors, we think he’s around two or three. He’s already neutered, and when you adopt from the haven, you get a package with Banfield Animal Hospital to get all his shots, since there’s no way to tell if he’s had them or not. He’s not microchipped, but he seems to be in really good health, now that we’ve gotten him to a much better weight than when he was brought in. He’s a little anxious. We put him in a kennel with much larger dogs, because for some reason the smaller ones scared him more than the big ones.” She reaches out and scratches him behind his ear, and he wiggles closer to me.

  “So where do I sign?” I laugh. I know this tiny creature is meant to be mine, and I’m ready to take him home.

  “Wait, maybe we should see some other dogs before just choosing the first one with a sob story,” Aiden interjects.

  I turn toward him with a death glare. “We came here for me to pick out a dog,” I remind him.

  “Yeah, I know that, baby, but he’s the very first one you’ve seen. We haven’t even made it inside yet.” He gestures toward the giant barn where the barking is coming from. “What if there’s one in there you’d like even more than this…Chihuahua,” he says with an unattractive look on his face.

  “Look, when she said Chihuahua, my immediate response was negative. But look at him.” I turn him to face Aiden. The little guy struggles to get back in the nook he’s found against my body and I giggle. “He already loves me.” I kiss the soft fur of his neck right below his ear. For some reason, the doggy smell there is comforting, and I hold him a little tighter. He doesn’t seem to mind.

  “Okay, hang on to him, but still, let’s at least look at the others. Would that be all right?” he asks the employee.

  “Sure! Who knows? Maybe you’ll end up adopting more than one,” she says teasingly, obviously recognizing from our conversation we’re only here because my husband is in the doghouse. I snort at my own thoughts.

  We spend the next twenty minutes walking through the aisles of kennels inside the barn, and sure, a few dogs make my heart melt, but none of them make me feel the way the tiny guy in my arms does. He’s let me carry him like a baby the entire time, sometimes making adorable little sighs and doggy-moans of delight as I rub his belly or scratch his neck.

  I’ve basically tuned everything else out, except watching Anni melt over dog after dog is quite entertaining. Unlike me, who’s landed on my little dog soulmate, she can’t decide between any of them. She wants them all. She eventually says if she could have any dog there, it’d be the gargantuan Saint Bernard who gave her a full body tackle-hug when the woman opened up his kennel for her, but she knows she can’t have a dog that big at her apartment complex.

  In the end, Aiden gives in. Not that he has a choice. The Chihuahua is mine. The haven only accepts cash or checks, so the woman tells us she’ll go run the paperwork for us, while Aiden runs up the road to the gas station to use their ATM. I happily sit next to Anni on a swing to wait for him to get back, still snuggling the little white animal in my arms.

  I try to get him excited, making my voice high-pitched and energetic, attempting to get him to play and be rambunctious, but he won’t have any of it. He ignores me and buries himself under my shirt. Soon, his breathing evens out and he gets really warm, like a miniature personal radiator, and when I pull the neck of my shirt out and look down at him, he is sound asleep. I let him stay there with a goofy grin on my face, even as I feel sweat bead between my boobs and start to trickle down my stomach.

  Aiden returns with the cash and we get all the papers signed. She gives us a packet of all sorts of coupons and goodies for dog stuff, and then wishes us a happy life with our new furbaby.

  Heading back to Fayetteville, we all decide to stop for some lunch, and land at my favorite restaurant, Smithfield’s Barbeque. We go through the drive-thru and park in a space to eat in the car, not wanting to leave the Chihuahua in the heat.

  “So what shall we name you, little guy?” I pick him up out of my lap and hold him in front of my face. I could seriously hold him in one hand he’s so tiny.

  “Snowball?” Anni suggests.

  “Nah, I don’t want him to have one of those cutesy pet names. Let me think.” I hum as I consider the animal in my hands. “Okay, he’s a Chihuahua, so he’s Mexican. But y’all know my obsession with Irish stuff. What’s a good, strong Irishman’s name?”

  “Angus,” Aiden calls out with his mouth full of French fries.

  “Ugh, no. He’s not a cow,” I shoot down.

  “Conan,” Anni says.

  “Hmmm…that’s a good one. What else?” I tilt my head, looking at the dog.

  “McNeil…McDougal…O’Connor…O’—”

  “Riley!” I shout, interrupting Aiden’s list of suggestions. “Riley. My little Irish Chihuahua. Oh! And I’ll name you after Zorro, the coolest Mexican ever. I dub thee Riley Alejandro.” I laugh and pull him to me, rubbing my face against his soft fur.

  “Perfect,” Anni confirms, and after tucking Riley back against the side of my leg in my seat, I grab my bag of food and devour my barbeque sandwich and fries, washing it down with the best sweet tea in the world.

  God, I’d missed Smithfield’s while I was in Texas. I can remember playfully bantering with Jason over who has the best barbeque, Texas or North Carolina. Here, barbeque means pulled pork in a vinegar sauce, and it’s served on a hamburger bun and topped with coleslaw. In Texas, barbeque is beef brisket with red sauce. I could eat Smithfield’s every day for the rest of my life. Nothing can top it in my book.

  When we finish our food, I ask Aiden to take us to Petsmart. I’m excited to get all the new dog stuff we’ll need for Riley. I sift through all the coupons the woman at the haven gave us, and see there’s one for just about everything we’ll need, from food to a doggy bed, and everything in between. When I’m done with this shopping trip, Aiden will think twice before sneaking away to jack off to porn when his willing wife is sitting right next to him.

  Kayla’s Chick Rant & Book Blog

  July 3, 2006

  I haven’t heard from Jason in almost two months. I can see on his MySpace that he’s dating a different girl than before, and it makes me wonder what happened. What happened to the previous chick he was dating? How did he meet this new one? Why did he never write me back if he wasn’t too busy in between girlfriends?

  These are the things I have time to stress and obsess over, because I literally have too much time on my hands. All I do is go to work, come home, and go to bed. Aiden spends every minute he’s not at work either playing his PlayStation, or online, his new obsession: online poker tournaments. And yet
, he freaks out if I want to go hang out with my girlfriends. It’s gotten to the point where I just said fuck it; I’d rather just read in bed than have another screaming match over me going out without him, since he doesn’t want to come with me.

  At least my blog is doing fantastic! Have y’all been able to keep up with all my reviews? I know I’ve been posting a shitload of them, so I hope you’ve found a few books that interest you. God knows I can barely keep my stash stocked I go through them so fast. Aiden tried, futilely, to tell me I needed to cut back on how many books I buy. He shut up that line of ranting when I picked up his fancy wireless PlayStation remote and threatened to throw it over our apartment’s balcony, because if he spent money on frivolous shit like a controller for the ultimate purpose of being able to play his stupid-ass game, even when he had to go to the bathroom, then I would buy as many fucking books as I damn well pleased.

  Without the letters from Jason, or the time spent with my best friend—who had tried several times to kidnap me, a couple of times succeeding, but the fighting the next day with Aiden wasn’t even worth the effort—I became severely lonely, depressed, almost desperate.

  If I was going to waste away inside my apartment, only allowed to spend time with my jerk of a husband, then dammit, I was going to be the best little housewife there ever was. Our apartment is always immaculate, our dinners are always delicious and pretty, and there is not a single thing Aiden can complain about, from his perfectly-pressed work uniform, to his homemade lunches, to his ever-present stock of snack foods he likes to munch on while playing his games.