gorgeous,” Frankie said as he pulled his hair up into a man bun. He stared at himself in the mirror, posing in colorful striped pants, a tight white tank top, and a denim vest. He put on a pair of expensive D&G sunglasses that he definitely did not steal from his bestie Liz back in Chicago and picked up his phone as it buzzed.
Dr. Lupin [10:38 a.m.]: Hey, I’m outside.
His next message was a plain smiley face. Frankie frowned. He knew Dr. Lupin was older, but a plain old smiley? Who the hell does that? Serial killers and boomers?
He quickly blended in some concealer and gave himself another once over before heading downstairs.
“I look hot as fuck and no one is here to see me off?” he shouted as he stood in the empty hall.
August’s voice echoed from the back of the house. “You always look stunning.”
“Yeah, but now I look stunning in denim and stripes, and you’ll never know,” he said as he stepped outside. He nearly ran into Mat as he raced up the walkway, his face red.
“Everything alright?” Frankie asked.
Mat brushed past him, reaching for the door. “I—no, everything isn’t alright. I am annoyed at how many hot people are in this damn neighborhood. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need a cold shower or something.”
Frankie turned around and walked backwards down the path. “But are the hot people going to come here and help around the house?”
“If didn’t scare him off, then he’s coming over tomorrow,” Mat said, reaching for the door.
“Did someone get dickmatized?”
“Geez, Frankie. No. I just. Who the hell doesn’t wear a shirt when they’re working?”.
Frankie stopped backing up and looked out the door. “Oh, maybe I should be late for work.”
“No. Don’t you fucking dare go over there,” Mat glared.
“Whatever. We’ll talk about it over dinner,” Frankie said, turning back around and looking at the little silver Prius parked out front. “Wish me luck, bitch.”
“Good luck, bitch,” Mat grinned, skulking away into the house.
Frankie shook past through the gate.
He’d thought the man would match the Prius, that Dr. Lupin would be some skinny professor-looking guy with a silver beard who blasted NPR over the radio. As he got closer, he realized how wrong he was.
The man’s shoulder was pressed up against the window, and as Frankie walked around the car, he noted that Dr. Lupin’s arms were at least as thick as Frankie’s thighs. He wore a sleeveless, baggy gray hoodie, which Frankie would need to talk to him about. He was also missing a beard, but the silvery scruff and peppered hair tied back in a bun was an acceptable replacement. Frankie looked down at the road before his eyes traced over the man’s biceps for a bit too long as he walked around the car.
He popped open the door, and death metal played over the speakers. Definitely not NPR.
“Hi, Dr. Lupin?” Frankie asked.
The man turned down the radio and held out a gigantic hand. “Yep, but call me Remmy. Frankie, right?” His voice was deep and gravelly.
Frankie’s damn knees wobbled as he slipped into the car and took his hand, which was warm and soft. How the hell was this man so attractive? Remmy gave a gentle squeeze, and Frankie wondered how he could restrain himself from outright crushing Frankie’s hand.
“Nice. Nice to meet you,” Frankie squeaked as his throat became suddenly dry. Several scents assaulted him at once as he closed the door. A mix of wet dog and musky man sweat hit his nose first, quickly covered by a sweet pine cologne that was working hard but failing. Regardless of the mix of scents, and that Remmy was definitely not his type, Frankie couldn’t clear his damn head of all the things he’d love to do with this man.
Remmy pulled away from the cul-de-sac and out onto Belladonna Boulevard. “How are you liking Mandrake Manor?”
Frankie blinked and looked down at his feet. “It’s not terrible. We did just move in, so ask me in a few weeks.”
Remmy nodded. “Fair. Well, let me know if you need any help. I’m not the best, but I don’t mind getting my hands dirty.”
Frankie swallowed down a remark he was certain he’d regret. “I, uh, I haven’t looked up the animal hospital. How far is it from here?”
“A couple miles. If you want to carpool to work, I’m happy driving. I could use the extra motivation to leave the office on time.”
Frankie smirked and leaned back in his seat. “Well, in that case, I’ll happily use you for rides.”
Remmy laughed, “Well, I’m not your personal chauffeur, but a few bucks a week should cover it.”
“Oh, deal. I was gonna get a bike and everything, but trust me, that wouldn’t have ended well,” Frankie said.
They pulled up to the gates, and Gary waved from the booth. During the day, he looked even worse. His skin wasn’t just pale but one shade away from gray, and the wisps of hair peeking out from his cap looked brittle. Remmy waved back and muttered under his breath, “I swear this guy loves taking his sweet time.”
“I mean, the poor guy looks sickly, don’t you think? Like he’s gonna croak any second.”
Remmy bit his lip and muttered, “You don’t know the half of it.”
They drove through the gates and started down the road. Frankie peered out the side window, squinting along the tree line. “Demetri drove us through the woods somewhere over here.”
“He got you guys lost, didn’t he?” Remmy grinned.
“We turned around three times before we cut through the woods.”
Remmy came to a stoplight and turned onto the county highway, passing by the spot they’d turned around twice the night before.
Frankie frowned, swiveling his head back and forth. “Wait, this road wasn’t here before.”
Remmy shrugged. “It’s here now.”
“How can it be ‘here now’, but not here yesterday?”
“Some say Henbane Hollow is one of those weird places where the surrounding roads change. I’ve never had a problem finding it, but I know people who’ve been here for years and still struggle to get in and out.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Frankie said.
“You’ll see. Give it a few weeks, and you’ll start seeing a lot of things that don’t make sense.”
The highway crested over a hill, and a small coastal town came into view. German-style homes, intermixed with Victorian homes, peeked over trees along with churches and white-bricked apartment buildings. Frankie focused on a road that trailed closer to the coast and through a small downtown before reaching a harbor with anchored sailboats. It looked like every small coastal town in a Hallmark movie. A cookie cutter copy of a romance that Frankie could picture himself in.
“Well, here’s Greenwych,” Remmy said. “It’s not all that special, but you can get just about everything you need downtown. Although, if you’re looking for a bar, pick Ficus’ over Juniper’s unless you want something rowdy.”
They coasted down the hill, passing through neighborhoods and closing in on downtown. “I don’t know. Rowdy might be fun.”
“Of course, a city boy like you would say that.” Remmy grinned.
“Hey! You’ve got to let loose once in a while, right?”
“Oh, I know. I may or may not have been kicked out of Juniper’s a few times.”
They drove past a small two-story black brick building with a purple neon sign that spelled out Juniper’s. It looked quaint, and a lot like a bar Frankie would have found off the beaten path in Chicago. He bit his lip, then said, “Well, maybe you can take me sometime. A guy like you is bound to make sure nothing gets too . . . rowdy.”
Remmy nodded. “Yeah, I could probably convince some of the vet techs to come out for drinks.”
Frankie’s heart sank, realizing Remmy didn’t pick up on his hint. “Yeah, I can bring my roommates too. I’m sure they’d like to meet some locals.”
Remmy slowed his car and parked across the street from a one-story white building with the words “Greenwych Animal Hospital” above the door. In the parking lot were a set of tents and a little fence resting on an AstroTurf mat, filled with several puppies.
“What,” Frankie started, “no funny business name?”
Remmy killed the engine and shook his head. “I wanted to go with Ruff and Scruff, but the techs told me that might bring in the wrong crowd.”
Frankie rolled his eyes. “You did not.”
“I did. Went so far as buying the LLC before I realized,” Remmy said, popping open the door.
Frankie unbuckled and stepped out of the car. “Well, next time, run it by someone before—”
Remmy pulled off his gray hoodie, and Frankie’s eyes bulged out of his head. The man had muscles that shouldn’t be legal, and he wore a mint green shirt that was a few sizes too small. The distorted words “Happy Tails Adoption Fair Volunteer” were stretched across his massive chest, and a tuft of silver chest hair spilled out from his collar.
He pulled at his shirt and looked up at Frankie. “The techs keep ordering me the wrong size.”
“I—I wonder why,” Frankie said.
Remmy sighed and placed his hands on his hips. He looked like a damn statue. “I don’t think they know that I know what they’re doing. Maybe next year you can order the shirts. If you stick around.”
Frankie’s thoughts trailed off, imagining a day next year when he might just completely “forget” to order this man a shirt at all. “Yeah, maybe. If I stick around.”
Remmy started toward the clinic and waved Frankie to follow. “Well, time to meet everyone and get you a shirt of your own.”