TUESDAY TALES - SHOE

WELCOME TO TUESDAY TALES. I'M WRITING ANOTHER EPISODE OF THE RESCUED HEART TO THE WORD PROMPT "SHOE".

THE RESCUED HEART

Rory held the phone to her ear as she returned to the sofa.
“Wait, Bess, Hack's here,” she looked up at him.

“Remember this. The Pound. Three-fourteen East Ninetieth. On our way.” She hung up the phone and slipped on her shoes as Hack approached the computer chair.
“Don’t bother. We have to go to…that address I just gave you?” Hack repeated it verbatim.
“I have to be here and only here. According to the judge.”

“But we need to rescue a pug from the pound. They’re gonna put him to sleep because he’s old.”

He shook his head. “The judge said…”

Tears filled Rory’s eyes.
“You call yourself a vet and yet you’re going to let a pug die because you don’t want to be... inconvenienced?” 

He stared at her as tears cascaded down her face.
“Fuck it. Let’s go. Don’t tell the judge, okay?”
“We’ll take the train.”
“A cab... on me.” He held the door for Rory.
“For a minute, I thought I’d pegged you wrong,” she said, in the cab, drying her eyes with his handkerchief.

“Pegged wrong?
How did you have me pegged?”
Rory glanced out the window.

“As a nice guy.
A guy who cared. Underneath all that arrogant, self-satisfied crap might actually be a guy who gave a damn about others. Otherwise, why would you be a vet?”

Hack looked at his hands. She glanced at him and saw color in his face.
“Guess I forget that sometimes.”
“Not today. Today you’re a hero. Right here, driver,” Rory said, leaning forward.

****

Back in Rory's apartment.
She held the door while Hack carried Alfred inside. He laid the small pug on the floor.
“He needs to have his nails clipped. He’s filthy, flea-infested, and looks like he’s coming down with something. His nose is running. I’d better take him to the clinic. Don’t want Baxter to get sick, too.”

Rory nodded.
“Of course, I’m still your slave for another hour and a half.”
“I give you my blessing to take him to the clinic.”

Rory put a dish of fresh water down in front of Alfred. He drank.

“That’s great. Give him water, so he can pee all over me on the way.”
“But he’s thirsty!”
“Bleeding heart…” he muttered.
“Can you say the same of Miss Thin Mints?” She stared at him.
“Why do you care if I’m engaged to Felicia? You hate me anyway…smug, creep that I am.”
“I don’t hate you,” Rory turned away to hide her blush.
He arched an eyebrow. “You give a damned good imitation of it.”
“How I feel about you doesn’t matter. We have a life to save.”

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