Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
“Okay. Alright,” he said, nodding. “Go feed your dog. What’s her name by the way?” he asked.
“Oh,” I said, frowning.
“She doesn’t have a name?”
“I don’t think they ever used one for her.”
“Well, she needs a name.”
“Got one?”
“Not without seeing her,” he said as if that was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard.
“She’s… tan.”
“Yeah, but, what’s her personality? Is she a lover or a loner? Does she enjoy—“
“I have a feeling this is going to go off-track really quickly,” I cut him off. “Focus on the Czech’s address. I will name my own dog.”
With that, I headed out, stopping outside to let out a loud snarl that everyone passing ignored before jumping back on the subway to Spanish Harlem where I did a paranoid sweep of the building before going back down to greet the dog, tossing out toys that she stared at, unsure what she was supposed to do with them.
And that, well, was sad as fuck, wasn’t it?
“We’ll work on the toy thing,” I told her as I set up her food dish, filling it with kibble, then using a paper plate to plop the wet food on. “You’re going to just have to not judge me on the paper plate, okay? The idea of scrubbing that stinky crap off of a bowl makes my stomach churn,” I told her as she walked over and started to scarf said stinky crap up before following up with a good half of the kibble as well.
I filled up her gravity-feeding water dish as she ate, then went over to spread out her bed that suddenly didn’t seem big or soft enough now that I saw it in the space.
“I’ll upgrade it,” I told her as she walked over to sniff it, then stand on it, turn around, and, finally, curl up on it.
It occurred to me then that she’d likely never had anything soft to sleep on before. Her whole life was outdoors. And, sure, she had a little plastic igloo to hide from the rain and snow in, but I doubted they had a bed in there.
I had the sudden urge to buy her the fluffiest fucking bed in the world.
Maybe my newfound desire to shop would include online shopping after checking for reviews.
“Alright. You take a little nap while I go and mess around in my office, okay?” I told her. “Then we will go for a walk and do your business before I head out for the night.”
She was already asleep, belly full, warm, and comfortable by the time I made it to the steps.
I went ahead and surfed for beds, finding an orthopedic one that was nine inches thick and big enough for her to stretch to her full size on it.
Was it almost two hundred dollars?
Yes.
But she’d had an outside life up until now.
She deserved comfort.
I also ordered other things I missed at the pet store. Shampoo, a collar that wasn’t a chain, dog tags with my address, enrichment toys, a toothbrush and paste, and a collapsible dog waterer to take on walks. I considered getting her booties because, well, city streets were disgusting. But I didn’t know her well enough to know if she would let me put them on. I put them on a wishlist along with a coat that she might need in the coming months, but I had to measure her first.
Several hundred bucks poorer, I sent Keith the crypto, knowing where to find him if he didn’t make good on the deal, then I went downstairs to walk my first dog, and have the lovely experience of cleaning up my first dog mess with the little baggies that were in a clip attached to her leash.
“Alright, girl. I am going to go get some work done, okay?” I said, petting her head as she immediately went back to her bed to relax. “I will come and take you out one more time before bed,” I promised her, then headed back out.
I was in my storage unit, shifting some boxes and totes around to get to the stash of gold bars I kept at the bottom, knowing I was going to need to take a trip to Jersey to pay the bikers.
Gold bars were a slightly unconventional way to keep my money. But, well, cash was risky. Cash made the IRS get all squirrelly and curious. Gold bars weren’t traceable if you purchased them anonymously.
At the current conversion rate, two one-pound bars would pay back the bikers. Leaving this unit with another twenty of them. Half a mill, give or take. Part of my retirement plan.
Because, let’s face it, you couldn’t be an arms dealer forever. And it was smart to sock away as much as possible early on, so you could get out before you got yourself killed.
I had a few storage units in the tri-state area, a couple of safety deposit boxes, and a go-bag in my house. But that one had diamonds, not bars. Easier to take on the run. Enough to get started somewhere else.