“Yeah, about that,” Preppy said, scratching his neck. I waited for him to continue, but his only answer was an awkward grin.
“After last night I might be a little confused,” I explained. “So bear with me. What happened? Why didn’t you take Kevin home?”
“I did take him home, that’s the fucking problem,” Preppy said with a groan. He plopped down on the bed and unlaced his boots, kicking them off he lay back on the mattress and looked at me upside down. I sat down next to him and stroked his hair. “The place where he lives is a shit hole. And I don’t mean that like it had a bulb out on the porch or like the espresso machine overflowed and stained the carpet. I mean it like I could smell actual shit from the street. Kevin said the landlady who rents him the room has a fuck ton of cats and no litter boxes. Plus, the roof over his room is non-existent. It’s covered with a tarp where there was fire damage that was never fixed.”
“Shit,” I said. “Why does he stay there? Can’t he find another place?”
Preppy shook his head. “I asked him that. He said he can’t afford anything else. Makes sense though. The kid’s only nineteen. Being a small time weed dealer with a ninth grade education doesn’t get you too far.” He sighed. “I know I should've asked you if I could bring him here, but it was kind of a spur of the moment thing. All I knew was that I couldn’t let him stay in that place so I told him to pack his shit and I brought him here.” Preppy looked up at me through his ridiculously long lashes. “He can’t go back there. I won’t let him.”
My heart squeezed.
“You mad?” he asked.
I leaned over and pressed an upside down kiss to his lips. “No,” I said. “I’m not mad. I’m very proud of you, Samuel Clearwater.”
“Thanks, Doc.” Preppy nuzzled into my touch as I continued to run my fingers over his hair, lightly scratching along his scalp with my nails.
“Do you trust him?” I asked.
Preppy closed his eyes for a beat. “No. Not entirely, but I still couldn’t turn my back on him.”
There was a knock at the door. “Uh, Preppy?” A hesitant voice asked from the other side.
“You can come in, Kevin,” I called out.
The door slowly opened. Kevin stood there with a tattered army green duffel bag slung over his shoulder. “There’s someone here for you. Outside. Some guy.”
“Who?” Preppy asked, sitting up and reaching for his boots.
“I’m not sure, but he’s kind of being a dick,” Kevin said.
I went over to the window and pulled the lacy ivory curtain to the side. I peered out and spotted a man wearing overalls, standing against a large blue unmarked semi truck that was parked in the street. The man was impatiently tapping a clipboard against his leg while glancing between bikers guarding the yard.
“Kevin, Doc, you stay here,” Preppy ordered. He opened the door to Bo’s room. “Come on my boy. It’s here.” Bo scrambled to his feet and ran after Preppy who didn’t appear to be worried. He had a little spring in his step as he bound toward the front door. He was excited at whatever was waiting for them outside.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“It’s a surprise,” Preppy called back. The screen door slammed shut behind them.
“A surprise?” I muttered, trying to figure out what kind of surprise was delivered to your house in a semi-truck. “What the hell could it be?”
“I’ve got no fucking clue,” Kevin said, coming to stand beside me at the front window. “But whatever it is, it’s making a shit ton of noise in the back of that truck.”
“Noise?” I asked, scrunching up my nose. “What kind of noise?”
Kevin shrugged and turned back toward the kitchen.
“The screaming kind.”
****
“You got him a dog?” I asked, spying the leash and dog bed in the hall when Preppy finally said it was safe to come out of our bedroom because he’d insisted I hide while he and Bo got ‘the surprise’ ready.
“Suuuurrreeee...” Preppy said. Just then a loud squeal ripped through the room followed by laughter. A blur of white and black tore into the living room and out to the backyard through a new doggy door that had been installed in the sliding glass door. Bo followed, crawling through the door behind him.
“That wasn’t a dog,” I stated, walking over to the kitchen window.
“That depends. What’s your definition of dog?” Preppy asked.
I held up my hands to my chest with my fingers curled over my palms to mimic paws. “Wuff. Wuff.”
“Then no. No, I didn’t get him a dog. Not in the DNA sense,” Preppy said. He stood behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. He bent his neck and pressed his nose into my hair and breathed in deep, inhaling my scent. I relaxed into him. “You smell so fucking good,” he groaned.
“Is that who I think it is?” I asked, still not believing what I was seeing. Bo chasing around a giant pig in the backyard. “That’s not just ANY giant pig, is it?” I asked, feeling my hopes start to rise.
Preppy shook his head and smiled into my hair. “Nope. It’s not.”
“Oscar?” I asked, spinning around in Preppy’s arms. “How is that even possible?”
Preppy shrugged. “Mrs. Saddleston, the lady he was placed with after Mirna, died a few weeks ago. The Alzheimer's agency thinks that Oscar was too sad to be placed with another Alzheimer patient, apparently he doesn’t handle death well. Anyway, it was time for him to retire and they said he could come back and live with us if we wanted. So...”
“So you got Oscar back!” I shouted, wrapping my arms around his neck and standing on my tiptoes to place a soft kiss on the corner of his upturned lips. “You did it. You got him back!” I said, not sure if I was even making sense I was so excited.
“Yes, ma’am. I motherfucking did it,” Preppy said proudly.
“Thank you,” I breathed, turning back to the scene in the backyard. The one where my son was playing with his new, my old, pig.
“After all, every boy needs a man’s best friend,” Preppy said, running his hands across the delicate skin on the front of my throat and across my collarbone.
“I’m pretty sure that they meant dog when they came up with that saying,” I replied. My nipples hardened.