Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 129110 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129110 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
I have to know.
I don't know when I became such a wannabe hero.
I stuff my phone into my pocket, no longer needing the light. Ignoring my audience, I lift the lid again, more prepared for the weight this time.
I stand on my tiptoes, trying to see inside. I can’t make out the bottom, but I don’t think there’s anything there.
Now I know this is bad.
The media is going to have a field day. They already are having a field day.
I shine my phone's light inside the dumpster, looking for something, anything to help the situation.
Nothing but garbage and horrible stench.
I’m about to give up when something moves. I jump back with a scream and the lid slams shut.
Laughing.
More flashing.
I brace myself before taking another quick peek down the alley. The crowd has grown.
Another whimper.
Okay something is definitely in there.
I grab a half broken crate to stand on and pry open the lid once again.
Where is it? Where did it go? And more importantly, what is it?
A moment later I get my answer.
An animal.
Cat or dog? Shit, it better not be a rat!
I pause for a minute. Think!
I really have no other option at this point but to ride this out. I’m in it to win it, committed.
I hoist myself up and over.
Landing with a thud I push through the garbage.
Next thing I know a different sort of light starts to flash and a man with a burley voice starts shouting at the crowd.
Police.
Fucking great.
I know it won’t be long until he appears on the other side of the dumpster, and when he does he stares at me with this look of shock. It really says a lot. I mean the things this man must have seen being a New York City cop and this is the look he gives me?
Completely covered at this point in dirt and filth, I offer a half smile.
“Do I want to know what's going on here?”
I stand on my tiptoes, watching the crowd disappear, the photos already likely sold.
Shit.
“Hello?” The officer repeats, annoyed. “What are you doing?”
I make a face and lean forward, trying to see in the dumpster.
“I… I…”
The animal whimpers again.
The officer looks in the dumpster, spotting it immediately. I follow his stare and finally see it too, only a few feet from where I'm standing.
Dog! It's a dog!
I smile at it, bending to help.
He radios for animal control.
“Wait, what are you doing?” I immediately look up.
"Lady, we can’t have a dog in the dump. He needs animal control and probably to be put down. He looks sick.”
“You can’t kill him!”
“Look at him! He’s already half dead. Come on, get out of here and go home.” He shines his flashlight right on me, making me flinch.
“But it’s my dog!” I yell, having no idea what I'm doing. He offers a questioning look. “Yes.” I confidently nod. “He’s been missing for, um, a month.” I was going to say a week, but that’s nowhere near believable. "I can't believe I found him!" I don’t know where the words are coming from, or what I’m thinking, but I know they can’t just go and kill him.
I look at it again, more prepared this time. It looks like a dirty mop.
I bend and pick him up.
He's light. So light I can lift him with one hand, but as I do he cries, clearly hurt. I add my other hand and try to be more gentle.
“Okay lady, whatever.” The officer sighs. He keeps the light on me as I start to get out, having no idea how.
He rolls his eye. "Need help?" He offers his hand.
"Thanks."
“So, uh, what’s with the photographers? You someone I should know?”
“No, but my boyfriend is.”
He nods.
"By the way," he pauses. "Your dog is a female."
"What?"
"You referred to it as he before." He flashes a knowing look.
Caught.
"Come on," he sighs. "My shift is almost over. I’ll drop you off at a vet. There’s one not far from here."
I thank him with a smile.
And people say New Yorkers aren’t nice.
The following morning the phone wakes me.
I let it go to voicemail.
Then I roll over and check the time, surprised to find it’s already afternoon. I rub my eyes, as last night comes back to me.
The dumpster.
The photographers.
That poor dog.
I reach over to emptiness, already forgetting the time of day. I half expected to find Asher still here, but it's show day.
I recall his quick kiss goodbye, still in a half asleep daze, similar to last night when I passed out quickly. As soon as I got home I took a shower, warm bath, and another shower. Exhausted, I barely remember feeling his weight as he got into bed.
The phone rings again and I lazily reach for it.
“Hello?” I mumble.
“Hello. Is this Elle Harris?”
I sit up. Before Asher came into my life I never had a problem answering that question.