Unleashed (A Sydney Rye Novel, # 1) - By Emily Kimelman Page 0,1

unadventurous lemmings.

“Oh, this isn’t what I ordered,” she said, looking down at my small cup of perfect caramel macchiato from above her two chins.

“Yes it is. It is a shot of caramel and a shot of espresso with a touch of frothed milk on top.” I had been wrong. She was like all the rest of them.

“No, I’ve ordered this before at Starbucks and it’s iced and in a very large plastic cup with a straw. It’s not at all like this,” she said as she waved her pudgy hand at my creation.

“Actually, this,” I pointed at the little cup, “is exactly what you ordered. Exactly.” I looked at the line of tourists that snaked out the door behind her onto 60th Street and continued, “I asked you if you wanted a shot of caramel and a shot of espresso with a touch of frothed milk. You said, ‘Sure, let’s give it a go.’ “I used a high-pitched nasal voice to imitate her. “Now, I will make you a new drink,” I said, “but it won’t be any Starbucks knockoff and you won’t get whatever it is you want unless you first admit that you are an idiot.” Her face turned red and all her features made a mad dash to the center, leaving her with only cheek, forehead, and chin.

“That’s right,” I was really rolling now, “an idiot, a dumb-ass who has no idea what is in her coffee. I bet you don’t know that Frappuccino is a Starbucks name, not the name of a real coffee drink. Frappuccino is a trademark, not a beverage.” I was still explaining the finer points of coffee in an outdoor voice to the tourist when my manager, a guy named Brad who always seemed to be staring at my tits, came out from the back and fired me. Although the way I stormed out of there, you would think I had quit. I threw my apron on the floor and told Brad to fuck himself and stop masturbating in the coffee grounds. Yeah, the customers liked that one.

By the time I got home, I was crying.

A Huge Fucking Dog

It is not often that the weight of daily existence catches me in public. I usually have to be in bed, alone, in the dark. But this time I was standing outside my apartment crying so hard I could barely get my key in the door. The thing is. I wasn’t crying because I got fired or because I’d broken up with Marcus. My job was stupid, and Marcus was an ass. Breaking up with that dick-wad was something on the list of “shit I’ve done lately that I can be proud of,” but it was pretty much the only thing.

Blue whined and circled me at the door, desperately happy I had returned. I sat down in my hall, my back against the door, crying. Blue nuzzled me and licked my face. I hugged him and he squirmed. “You’ve only known me a day and already you like me this much, huh?” I asked him, sniffling back my tears. He flopped onto his back, exposing his belly and warbled at me in answer.

Blue followed me down the hall and into the kitchen, where my answering machine sat blinking. “Five messages,” I told Blue, wiping my face with the back of my hand. He leaned his weight against me and nuzzled my stomach.

I hit play on the answering machine and heard Marcus’s voice. “Hey, listen.” In my mind I could see Marcus’s tongue sneaking out to wet his lips. My chest tightened. “I was thinking I’d come over later and we could…I don’t know…talk or something. Call me back.” Beep. “Hey, it’s me again. Look, I’m in the neighborhood. I guess you’re not home yet. I think I’m just going to head over…alright, um, bye.” Beep. “What the fuck, Joy. I was just at your house and there was a huge fucking dog trying to kill me. I—” Beep. “Your fuckin’ machine sucks, and where the fuck did you get that vicious dog? I mean, we just broke up last night and you already have a new dog. I don’t know what that means, but I just don’t know about you anymore.” Beep. “Listen, just call me, OK?” Beep.

I exhaled. “Did you really attack him?” Blue wagged his tail and sat. “I suppose it would be your natural instinct,” I hiccuped. “He was invading your home, right?” Blue looked at me blankly. “You don’t look