Page 4 of Animal Tamer
I sputter. “I'm almost done, I just need to?—”
“Paige can finish with the dog.”
This reminds me of when I was eleven and Tasha Brennan tried to make me eat a frog. Same sadistic tone. Same flicker of pleasure behind the eyes when I shrink.
My fingers go cold around the tweezers.
“Yes, sir.” I set the instrument down. Wipe my hands on a towel. Keep my face very still, because if I let any of it show, he'll find a reason to make tomorrowworse.
“The carnival called.” His mouth twists like he's bitten into something rotten. “The one out at the fairgrounds. They've got an injured capuchin, and they want it seen today. I told them you'd be out within the hour.”
Paige and I lock eyes for half a second. Hers go wide. I feel mine do the same.
“A capuchin.”
Vance doesn’t even blink. “That's what I said.”
“Did they say what happened?”
“Do I look like the intake form, Wren?” He pushes off the doorframe. “Get your kit. Bill them double for the house call. And try not to get bitten. I don't want to fill out a workers' comp claim because you got handsy with a monkey.”
The door swings shut behind him.
The exam room is very quiet.
Banjo lets out a soft whuff and rests his chin on my forearm, oblivious. I stare at the wall above the autoclave for a long moment, the heat climbing the back of my neck.
“Wren.” Paige's voice is gentle now. The teasing gone. “He's a dick. Don't let him?—”
“I know.” I unclip my stethoscope and loop it around my neck. Then I grab my jacket off the hook. “I'm fine.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
I'm not. But that's a separate problem for a separate evening, probably with a glass of wine and the octopus documentary.
I gather my field kit from the supply closet, double-checking the sedation drawer, the suture pack, the gauze. My hands move on autopilot while my brain runs ahead of me, down the highway, out to the fairgrounds.
A carnival. With an injured monkey. On day one of setup.
“I knew it,” I mutter, zipping the kit closed. “I called this exact scenario not ten minutes ago, and the universe heard me and saidhold my beer.”
“Take pictures,” Paige calls after me as I push through the door. “For the report. Or for me. Whichever.”
“For the report.”
“Both. Take them for both.”
I'm already halfway down the hall.
3
ROWE
Peanut is curled into the hollow of my elbow, and he won't stop shaking.
“I know, buddy. I know.”
