The Second Life of Nick Mason (Nick Mason #1)

He went all the way down to the south end, where men were playing beach volleyball. He looped around back under Lake Shore, past the ball fields. He stopped and watched a game of bare-handed softball—he knew it was a game that once ruled Chicago, but he didn’t think anyone played it anymore. When the game was over, he kept walking.

I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do on a day like this, he said to himself. Or how many days like this there’s gonna be. All by myself, just waiting for that phone to ring again . . .

As he got closer to home, he hit another row of shops, all with blue canopies outside. Pricey salons, coffee shops, wine bars. Then he came to a pet shop. There was a dog sitting there, looking out the window. To Mason, it looked like part boxer, part pit bull, part dinosaur. He was about to keep walking, but the dog looked him right in the eye and started wagging its little stumpy excuse for a tail. Mason stopped and the dog sat down, still staring at him.

He went inside the store, feeling the instant chill of the A/C. There was a gated-off area by the front window, with separate sections for a half-dozen cats and the only dog in the shop, who now came over to Mason and did his best to body-slam the gate right out of the way.

“Easy there, Max!”

The voice came from the back of the store. A woman emerged from the storeroom, carrying a large bag of dog food. She put it on the counter and came over to Mason.

“He seems to like you,” she said. She had short brown hair and brown eyes. Her cheeks were red from the summer sun. She was wearing jeans and a blue polo shirt with the name of the pet shop on one side of her chest. On the other was her name: Lauren.

He reached over the gate and rubbed the dog’s head. The dog wagged his tail even harder.

“What kind of dog is he?” Mason asked.

“I’m guessing Cane Corso, mixed with something else. We don’t usually sell dogs here, but he came in as a rescue.”

“Cane Corso? Never heard of that.”

“Smart dog. Athletic. Obedient.”

“If I wanted this dog . . .” Mason said.

“I bet Max would like that very much. He’s three hundred dollars.”

Mason looked down at the dog. Max was sitting patiently as if waiting for the next chapter in his life to begin.

“Okay,” he said, trying to convince himself.

“There’s a twenty-four-hour waiting period,” she said, “after we fill out all the paperwork.”

He was already starting to feel the dog slipping away from him. Paperwork meant personal history. This might be a bad idea, he thought.

“He likes you,” she said. “Come on over here and we’ll get started.”

He gave the dog one more look, then followed Lauren to the counter.

“Okay, I need your name and address,” she said, picking up a clipboard with forms attached to it.

“Nick Mason.” He gave her the address on Lincoln Park West.

“Wow, okay. I bet that’s quite a place.”

“I just moved in.”

“Where’d you move from?”

Mason hesitated. “I’m from Canaryville.”

“Canaryville to Lincoln Park,” she said, nodding her head. “That’s a change of scenery, I guess.”

“Both places have lots of animals. They just keep them in the zoo up here.”

“That’s a good one,” she said, nodding again.

“My name is Nick. It’s nice to meet you.”

“I’m Lauren,” she said. “What happened to your face?”

The question surprised him. It was direct and honest and he thought carefully about how to answer. He liked her short hair and the color of her eyes. Most of all, he liked the way she stood her ground and waited to hear his explanation.

“I got in a fight,” he said.

“What about?”

“Long story,” he said. “But he was a bad guy. If that matters.”

She looked at him and considered her answer.

“It matters.”

“Does it matter enough that you might overlook it and let me take you to dinner?”

“You didn’t come in here for this dog, did you?”

“I did,” he said. “I’m taking the dog.”

“Max.”

“I’m taking Max. Max is going to have a great home. It’s just when I saw you, I didn’t want it to be one of those things I didn’t do but wish I did for a long time afterward.”

She looked at him carefully like a cop considering an alibi.

“You can come for Max tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

He turned and started out.

“And you can come back for me at seven,” she said. “I’ll be here, closing the store, if you still want to get something to eat.”

“I’d like that. I’ll see you at seven.”

Mason went back outside into the hot sun. He was as surprised as Lauren was that he had asked her out. But it felt good to have something to look forward to that evening. This chance to connect with someone.

He wondered what her last name was, if she’d ever been married, if she had any kids. There’d be time enough to find out. He was open for anything.

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