Page 23 of Vetted for Vengeance
While I chill in my joggers and hoodie, he's still dressed all prim and proper. Even sitting on his own sofa, he looks like he's about to walk onto a television set. The film crew could burst in here at any moment, and he’s been screen-ready the entire time. I, meanwhile, probably have tomato sauce down my chin.
“You were good with the camera today,” Rhys compliments, seeming lost for conversation.
“I was having the best day of my life. I was saving all the dogs. I wouldn't be any good if I didn't have something to focus on.”
He gives a dry chuckle, as if he knows I'm right but wishes I wasn't.
“I'll get out of your hair in a day or two. I'll start looking for jobs in the morning. “You won’t have to put up with me…”
“The producer wants to offer you a job.”
“On camera? I don't think…”
“Neither did I,” he interrupts again. “Especially with my… you know… but I gave it a try, and the practice is thriving now. Beyond my dreams.”
“You think I should take the job?”
“I think you need to see this through. Be part of the rehousing process. Visit the dogs in their new homes as part of the show.”
It would give me a little money to start my next job with. Enough to actually start over. Maybe even save toward my own place.
“You could do your veterinary nurse training here while you're filming.” He shrugs. That sentence lands harder than the film job offer.
Training.
A future.
I'm not sure of his motives. He doesn't want me here, invading his space, but he wants me to stay. To commit to a qualification, a job as a presenter. He wants me to see this through, but I don't know what this is.
He is a very private man, with good reason. Rhys Calder doesn't do anything without thinking three steps ahead.
Does he want to be friends, but knows he's going to need time to open up? Tying me here with commitments could just be his way of making that time.
“I'll need more information before I agree to anything.”
“Sure.” He shrugs dismissively, reaching for the TV remote. “The news channel is featuring us tonight. Putting out an appeal for your bosses to come forward.”
The news draws our attention to the screen. It's the farm, the dogs being brought out, and the happy wag of their tails to be outside.
My fingers grip the edge of the sofa as I search for myself on the feed. I don't breathe while I watch.
How will the camera see me? Evil kennel worker who failed to act in the dogs’ best interests? Poor, over-worked fool who couldn't save himself, let alone the dogs?
The camera pans around, following the path of Jolly. I know she's heading towards me; I'm braced and ready.
And there I am. Standing tall, looking confident. The police and veterinary nurses ask me questions, and I direct them with clear instructions.
I look good. Wow. For the first time in years, I like how I look. I look like someone who belongs there.
“The two brothers who operated the unlicensed breeding facility have not yet come forward. Police confirm they are assisting Trading Standards with enquiries and are urging owners Frank and Derek Hardwood to come forward to aid their investigations.”
“They won't show up now.” I maintain our narrative; neither of us liked slip ups and the more we built the story, the more natural it would come.
“Why not?” Rhys leans forward a little more.
“Because if they do, they’re admitting they ran it.” I try to maintain my innocent look, the one filling my face on camera. “If they're found guilty of running the farm, they could be looking at five years in prison, or fines and stuff. They won't come forward now.”
“You're probably right.”
