Montana Nights

Chapter 7 : The Favor

Mila

I drove home from the grocery store in silence, lost in thoughts of Doctor Ethan the entire way back.

My one bedroom apartment in downtown Snowy Grove featured one bedroom, one bath, and a view of Main Street. My front door was entirely glass and steel, the old ski repair shop logo not having completely peeled off yet.

Up a sharp flight of stairs I went, bearing my reusable grocery bags three to an arm.

Dad always did give me and Lorraine a hard time for trying to get all the groceries in a single trip.

I could picture him, wizened face drawn into a bemused grin even as he shook his bald head in recrimination. Lorraine and I, stick-like arms straining from the weight of six blue plastic handles apiece, had struggled our way from the garage to the kitchen table.

You know this is how Bruce Lee died, kiddos. They say it was an aneurysm, but he really died trying to carry too many bags at once.

“It's okay, Pa."

Lorraine's voice came out in a rough growl, her lungs barely able to function under the strain of grapefruits, potatoes, and canned goods all on one arm.

“Me and Mila are tougher'n Bruce Lee."

So Lorraine said, but she'd still wound up with bruises on her forearms.

Back then, it had been worth the pain to get it done in one go.

“Stupid."

I set one of the bags down at the base of the steps, then ascended the stairs without having to kill myself. I unlocked the door and bumped it open with my hip. My hand darted out to flip the power switch and light flickered into existence.

The layout of my apartment had the kitchen immediately inside the front door, followed by an open-concept living room. A single door led to my bedroom and attached bathroom.

I unloaded the groceries, thoughts drifting back to Ethan.

Ethan is smart and practical. He definitely would plan things ahead and make multiple trips, if he had to.

He had acted as if he were happy to see me. I had kind of liked running into him.

There's a nice guy living under all that stiff awkwardness. Dr. Ethan does seem to really care about the animals he treats. Makes me think he's got the capacity to care about me, too…

I banished him from my mind by focusing solely on throwing together my dinner. A few seasoned chicken drumsticks went under the broiler, while I chopped up a head of romaine, sliced fresh beets, and grated carrots into a bowl until I had a reasonable facsimile of a grilled chicken salad.

Dr. Ethan kept creeping up on my consciousness, though. My exhausted body could not overcome the whims of my tired but active brain. Some voice whispered in my half awake ear, a voice my own and yet not of the waking world.

He was trying to ask you out.

I fought the urge to come fully awake, losing the battle due to an unexpected combatant on the field. I slapped my bedside table until I felt my ringing cell phone.

Who is calling me at this hour? Unknown number. Local area code.

I rubbed my eyes and grimaced at the blazing light of my screen.

Thinking it could be someone from the clinic, or maybe Lorrine calling from a different number than usual, I chose to take the call. I certainly hoped no telemarketers would have tried calling after midnight.

“Hello?"

My sleep-thickened voice cracked in my ears.

“Oh, I think I got the wrong number."

I squinted as my sleep-addled brain struggled to turn over. The voice sounded familiar. A little too familiar. My mind achieved full wakefulness.

Dr. Ethan.

I blinked.

Wait, why would Dr. Ethan call me in the middle of the night? Maybe I'm still dreaming.

“I was trying to reach Mila?"

“You reached her?"

I sat bolt upright. My bedding fell to my waist.

“Is this Ethan?"

“Um, yeah."

He heaved a long sigh. A truck horn blared in the call's background. Intermittent static buzzed in my ear.

“Dr. Ethan, are you outside right now?"

“Yes, I am. Um, I'm sorry to have to call you so late. You see, the boys are in a bit of a jam."

“The boys? I'm sorry, with half the population being male, you might have to get more specific, Dr. Ethan."

“Lucas Carrington and Oliver Green. Also, Lucas's rather obstinate kid brother."

“Chase."

I sighed and dropped the phone away from my ear. I looked up to the heavens beyond my ceiling and let my soul cry out.

Why?Why must there be someone who's as much of a pain in the ass as Chase Carrington? Why not send a plague and get it over with quickly? I've heard Gods are into plagues…

There were no windows left unbroken by Chase's childhood slingshots. There were no girls he didn't gross out with bugs on the elementary school playground. And, it seemed, there was no night on the town he couldn't turn into a night at the county jail.

“Are you at the Sheriff's station?"

“Yes. Mila, thank you."

“Have you been arrested?"

“No, no, no, no."

His vehement denial carried over the background sounds of wind and traffic.

“No, I stayed out of it. Literally, I left the bar when the brawl broke out. Do you have any idea how much I pay to insure my hands? Anyway, the jail is packed. They arrested half the people in the bar. We need your help to bail them out."

“I'm pretty much broke, but I can probably return some of the stuff I just bought at the grocery store. Some of it, anyway, Sid's usually pretty cool about that sort of-"

“Leave Sid out of it, actually… he's gonna need to bail himself out...and we don't need your money."

Ethan's gasp crackled over the line.

“I mean… that came out wrong. I never meant to… it's just that, geographically speaking, you're the ideal candidate… given that the Carrington boys don't want their dad to know about this, and Oliver's girl just kicked him out. And, well, your number was the only number I could remember… from the clinic's contact sheet."

“Oliver and his girl broke up? When did that happen?"

Ethan's voice sharpened to a stiff edge when he spoke again.

“Today, I think. He showed up at the ranch with a jeep full of his junk and a bouncy little German Shepherd puppy. Anyway, it's imperative you get my stash of petty cash out of my bureau. Top drawer, the pair of blue and white Star Trek Vulcan socks."

“Vulcan socks?"

“Yes, I never wear them."

“You want me to go to the Carrington ranch, ransack your bedroom-which I don't even know where it is by the way-and get bail money to get Lucas and his punk-ass brother out of the slammer?"

“And Oliver. Oh, and Oliver wants to know if you'll let Dottie out of the kennel so she can potty,,,and maybe feed and water her too."

I rubbed a hand down my face.

“It's going on one in the morning, Dr. Ethan."

“I know, and I feel terrible. Look, maybe we can work something out, cover your gas money, and something extra for going above and beyond."

“Oh, no."

I rolled out of bed and used my toes to open my underwear drawer.

“You can't buy me off that easily. I'll take your gas money, but y'all…all y'all…will be owing me a big, fat favor."

Silence hung in the air longer than I had expected.

Maybe I went too far…

“You have me there. I'm staying in the guest house, anyway, so you shouldn't have to go into the Big House at all."

“Ok…"

Dr. Ethan's voice grew tight as a drum.

“Look, Mila, I know this is asking a whole lot of you."

He sighed. I tried to balance the phone on my shoulder so I could put on underwear, but it was hopeless.

“Look, I'm going to let you go, now so I can put on my panties."

I cringed. It came out sounding way sexier than I'd intended.

“I mean, get dressed. I'm getting dressed. I'll see you in a bit."

“Okay. Thank you."

I hung up before I could put my foot in my mouth again.

“It wasn't like I was donning something sexy."

My words echoed back to me off the walls of my apartment. I finished dressing in comfy sweats and a matching t-shirt. I didn't have to be cute, I was rescuing them.

I drove through the night toward the ranch. I followed my phone's GPS through the valley.

I parked outside of the guest house and got out of my car as quietly as possible and headed inside. Ethan hadn't locked his door.

Why would he? No one would dare steal anything from Bret Carrington.

I entered the room, and fumbled for the light. When I couldn't find it, I gave up. I stood beside a stone fireplace and took out my phone . I moved the light over a stone hearth wide enough to sit on.

I followed the light to the chest of drawers next to Dr' Ethan's perfectly made bed.

So neat…

I opened the top drawer and fumbled around until I found the socks in question. They had plush, stuffed ears, like Mr. Spock. I grinned at that, as well as the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue Ethan had tucked underneath neatly balled pairs of socks.

The lights went on with a firm click. Blinking in confusion, I turned to see Lucas' father, Bret Carrington, filling the doorway. His eyes narrowed to slits, but the hunting rifle he leveled my way frightened me a lot more..

“What in the f**k are you doing?"

My voice failed me. His face turned ruddy red. Anger rolled off of him in palpable waves. I felt like a swimmer caught in a riptide, unable to think or speak under the onslaught.

“Missy, I asked you a mother f*****g question. What are you doing? Because, standing there in the dark with a wad of cash in your hands, you look like a damn burglar."

“I'm not a burglar. Ethan asked me to come here and get the money."

“Why in the Hell would he want you to do that?"

My voice wavered when I spoke. I couldn't take my eyes off the rifle pointing at my head.

Lucas and Chase may not want their dad to know, but there's no way I'm lying with a rifle in my face.

“Because he needs it to bail Lucas, Chase, and Oliver out of jail."

He groaned and lowered the rifle at last.

“Put that money back. Ain't nobody spending a damn dime on this bullshit. I'll take care of it. You get the hell out."

He stormed off to the Big House.

A whimper from inside the house caught my attention.

Poor Dottie!

I waited until the taillights of Bret's truck vanished in the dusty night before I snuck back inside to take care of Dottie.

“At least I can make one person happy tonight, puppy."