“How’s he breathing?”
“Panting.”
“He’s anxious.”
“He’s anxious?”
“You’re probably making him nervous.”
“It’s our goddamn driveway, not his.”
“Calm down,” she said. “You’re being irrational.”
“Knowing that doesn’t flip the switch to rational.”
“Just get out of the truck.”
“That’s it?”
“This isn’t number theory.”
“You’re not the one who has to do this.”
“I know that,” she said.
Service said, “When I was a kid I never thought dog and mail carrier jokes were funny.”
“Just get out, but don’t make eye contact. He’ll read that as a challenge.”
“So he can attack me blind?”
“Work with me, Service. I’m trying to help.”
“Maybe I could shoot him.”
“The animal hasn’t done anything.”
“You can’t see what I see.”
“Listen to me,” she said. “Get out the passenger door, duck into the garage, and go from there to the house.”
“He’ll nail me before I get to the garage.”
“No, he won’t.”
“He’s right here, waiting.”
“Have you got a better plan?”
He didn’t, but maybe if he opened the door sharply, he could knock the dog away and scare him. “I could just stay in the truck until it leaves.”
“And if it stays all night?”
Damn dog. “Okay,” he said.
“Okay what?”
“Just okay. I’m thinking.” If he got to the garage it was a short leap from there to the house. If he got into the house he could let Newf out and she could take care of the intruder. But what if the dog got between him and the garage? He could run for the house and if the animal attacked, he had no choice. He could give it a squirt of pepper spray—if he had a canister with him, which he didn’t.
“Grady Service, you can’t sit in your truck all night.”
“I have a plan,” he said.
“My plan, I bet,” she said.
“Your plan, yes.” With a modification: He would shoot the animal if he had to.
“I think you can’t do this,” she said.
“Do what?”
“Get out of the truck with the pupper sitting there.”
“It’s sure as hell not a pupper.”
“You can’t do it. You’re gonna sit there like a boob all night.”
“Am not. I can do this.”
“Standard bet?” she said. Standard bet meant the winner got their choice of time and place for sex.
“Really?”
“Sure. I’ll win,” she said.
“We’ll see about that,” he countered.
“Call me if you actually get into the house,” she said, hanging up.
“Traitor,” he said, snapping the cell phone shut.
He tried his door and the red dog immediately tensed. He pawed under the seats and found the remnants of some crackers, opened the window slightly and threw them onto the driveway. The dog took a step toward them, but stopped. A second batch sent the dog after them and Service went quickly through the passenger door, hitting the electronic garage door remote as he got inside, and out the back door, leaping onto the porch and into the house without looking back.
Newf was all over him, but he opened the door and yelled, “Get that red piece of shit!”
She charged out snarling, got almost to the marauding dog, stopped, wagged her tail, and the two animals began to play and roll around on the grass.
He opened a bottle of Bell’s Amber Ale with a shaking hand and tried to steady his nerves. It took an hour for him to call Nantz.
“Have you been in your truck all this time?”
“No,” he said.
“Yes you have,” she said.
“I’m in the house and I win the bet,” he said.
“There was a time limit,” Nantz said.
“You never said anything about a time limit.”
“There’s always a time limit. You can’t make a bet after the Army-Navy game’s over.”
“This wasn’t a football game. There’s no time limit.”
“There’s always a time limit, hon. Sorry.”
“It’s a mean-looking dog.”
“Where is it now?”
He turned his back so he couldn’t see Newf and the strange dog standing side by side on the lawn. “I can’t see it now.”
“Go see if it’s still out there.”
As he walked toward the door Newf and the red dog jumped up on the porch and lay down together.
“You see it?”