Till Death Saves Me (Forced Mafia Marriages)

Halle

As I drive away from Beacon Hills Animal Hospital, I glance at the sign. Cat Puns Freak Meowt. Seriously, I’m not Kitten.

I died laughing the first time I read it. I thought Sam Figarello would have a sense of humor considering the sign, but he doesn’t seem to. “He’s a lot more serious than you'd expect,” I muse to myself. Not in a bad way, but he’s certainly intense.

And sexy as hell. Those eyes, that dark hair. Goddamn…

I wasn’t expecting that.

One of my neighbors, Joanie, told me she brings her dog to him. She’s an older woman, but she mentioned that Sam was one of the best vets in Illinois. I looked into him after I sent in my application, and it turns out he’s won a ton of awards.

Before he opened Beacon Hills Animal Hospital, he donated a lot of his time to shelters that needed a veterinarian’s help. All pro bono work.

Turns out, my sexy new boss has quite the reputation around here. Everyone that knows him loves him and swears by him. Joanie even told me that one of her friends couldn’t afford an expensive heart surgery for her cat, so Sam did the procedure free of charge. He even covered the cost of the cat's pain medication afterward. He definitely seems like the kind of man I want to work for.

It’s always been my dream to have my own practice, but that’s years away. For now, I’m content with my new job, and I cannot wait to start in the morning.

As I drive home, I pay attention to the stores around me. I pass a little coffee shop and breathe a sigh of relief. The last thing I want to do is show up to work tomorrow with McDonald’s coffee. I usually brew my own at home, but I want to impress Sam.

I want him to know how serious I am about this job. I’m not sure how many DVM’s applied for the position, but based on the amount of applications on his desk, there were quite a few. And the fact that he picked me makes me feel really good.

I pull into the parking lot of my two-story apartment building. My apartment is on the second floor. There’s no elevator, only a wide set of steps that lead up to it. There are only two apartments on each floor, and they’re all massive.

Just as I slide my key into the lock, the door across the hall from me opens and Joanie pokes her head out.

“Well?” she asks.

Before I even turn around, I’m smiling. Joanie stares at me eagerly. Her white head of hair contrasts sharply to the silky, pink floral robe she has wrapped around her. She’s an eccentric old white woman, but she’s kind.

“I got the job! I start tomorrow.”

“See! I told you everything would work out. I’m very happy for you, . I’m missing Columbo, though. I just wanted to hear about the job. I’ll see you there! Tell Sam I said he made a wise choice.”

I laugh. “Thanks, Joanie. I’ll see you soon.”

Once I’m in the confines of my new apartment, I look around at the wide open space. Or what will be a wide open space once I get most of these boxes out of here. My couch is supposed to be delivered on Wednesday, and now I won’t be here for it. I wonder if Joanie will sign for it for me.

Deciding to worry about that later, I grab a box labeled ‘living room’ and begin unpacking. It’s mostly odds and ends. I have a wooden carved statue of Ray Charles. He’s my favorite blues singer, and as I look around at where to put it, I feel a sense of excitement wash over me.

Maybe moving to Chicago was a good idea, after all. The weather isn’t ideal, that’s for sure. I guess nothing can beat California weather. But things are looking up.

After a couple of hours, I find my stethoscope and a white lab coat. I throw the coat in the washing machine to freshen it up while I continue to sort through boxes. Every time I empty one, I break it down and make a neat pile of cardboard for the recycling bin. After another two hours of this, I’ve had enough.

I’ve made a dent in my unpacking, and I decide to shower and wash my hair, which is a process. My hair is long, and when it’s wet, it’s even longer. After I wash and towel dry it, I apply generous amounts of curl cream and let it air dry, which surprisingly doesn’t take too long.

Once I’m in my pajamas and in bed, I turn the television on and grab my laptop, deciding to look up Dr. Samuel Figarello, DVM. A split second later, a picture of him flashes across my screen, and I can’t help but admire how incredibly handsome he is.

He only stood up once, when I shook his hand, but he was easily a foot taller than me. That would make him close to six foot four. The recent article I find says he just came back from a trip to Texas where he trained on new robotic-assisted surgery equipment.

My eyebrows hit my hairline while I read. I remember hearing about this. Only eight or nine DVM’s were chosen to partake in that, and Sam was one of them? Tomorrow I’ll be in the presence of greatness.

The robotic-assisted surgery equipment allows for a few small cuts that complete major surgeries. Usually, surgery will leave a massive scar but using this technique is far less invasive.

Impressed, I continue my search. His massive contributions to the animal shelters and his donation of time, I already knew about. But he also holds adoption events at Beacon Hills once a month on Saturdays.

Local shelters have teamed up with him to lighten their load on the third Saturday every month. Unless there is an emergency, Sam closes the clinic for the day, and it’s only open from noon to four for adoptions.

There’s also a Fifty Shades of Spay Day. I nearly fall out of bed laughing. There’s no way he comes up with these names.

On this day, Sam offers low cost spay and neuter for pets. However, it says here that the wait list is quite long.

I bet it is.

I close my laptop and set it aside on my bedside table. Thoughts of Sam and his practice fill my mind as I drift off to sleep.

***

The next morning, I wake up earlier than I mean to. I’m eager to get to work, so I eat a quick breakfast and make my lunch for later. I don’t like eating out all the time, so I try to pack my own food as often as I can.

I groan in dismay when I realize I don’t know where my lunchbox is. I’m sure there’s a break room or a mini fridge of some sort at the practice. I didn’t really explore the facility last night, and I wish I had.

Remembering that I told Sam I’d pick up coffee, I quickly dress in black pants, a dark blue top, and grab my white lab coat that I hung up last night.

After I grab my stethoscope, I glance at the clock and gasp. I rush out of my apartment one minute later. I have to be at work in less than an hour.

Cursing, I jump in my car and rush to the cafe. Thankfully, they opened at four a.m. It’s a cute little shop that has outdoor seating underneath red and white canopies. The inside allows for a few small, wooden tables.

All the decor is centered around coffee. There’s a painted mural on the wall of a steaming mug. The tables all have little jugs of fake milk and sugar on them. It’s adorable. I just hope everything tastes as good as it looks.

There’s a glass case displaying dozens of freshly baked pastries and muffins. With my sweet tooth screaming at me, I order a couple of things, grab my coffees, and head out the door.

As I slide back into the leather seat of my Camry, I turn the radio on, pleasantly surprised to find a station playing Stevie Wonder, and head to work.

The closer I get, the more nervous I become. You would think I was fourteen, heading into my first day of work ever. But after reading about all the wonderful things Sam does for the community, I feel insecure.

Being in a strange city and having no established relationships with patients, or friends, hits me suddenly. How are clients supposed to connect with me when there’s someone like Sam to compare me to? I could never measure up to him.

Where this sudden insecurity is coming from, I’ll never know. I shove aside my doubt as I pull into the parking lot. The sign isn’t lit up, but the saying has changed.

We Like Big Mutts and We Cannot Lie.

I laugh loudly and take a sip of my coffee. This is definitely the place for me.

The lights are on in the waiting room, and as I make my way toward the door, my nervousness is replaced by excitement. I can’t wait to start my day.