Unlikely Read Online Free PDF Page A
Author: Sylvie Fox
association and I think we should have a reception with all of his friends and colleagues at the house.”
“We?” Sophie laughed, unable to hide her incredulity. Her parents never missed a chance to express their disappointment at her life and career choices. “I don’t think they envision me being co-host of a party for another of Daddy’s endless honors. Besides, my Norma Kamali is at the cleaners.”
Selie sighed, the old hurts resurfacing. “It was just a thought, Sophie. I think you and the ’rents need to bury whatever hatchet you guys have between you—or however that metaphor goes.”
“I know,” Sophie said, closing her eyes and trying to draw on some reserve of inner calm. “You’re right. We’re all getting a little too old for this. I’m never going to finish college, and they’re never going to have the perfect younger daughter they wanted. The sooner we all settle on that, the better.” She paused to clear her thoughts. “Let me think about it. Maybe I can play the perfect daughter for one night. So,” she said, abruptly changing the subject back to her original reason for calling. “Do you think I should get Sasha?”
“Who?” her sister asked. Sophie sighed. Why was it so hard for anyone in her family to focus on her problems for more than a minute? It was all too easy for them to dismiss anything that concerned her as frivolous.
“The dog, Selie. That’s our nickname for her.”
“Our? Yours and whose?” Selie said, fully attentive now that her curiosity was piqued. Sophie wanted to kick herself in the ass for that unintentional slip.
“No one, really. There was just a guy who helped me out when I caught her on the freeway,” Sophie said doing her best to minimize Ryan’s role and avoid any awkward questions.
“Is this guy single?” Selie asked, very much back into the conversation.
“Yes, I think he’s single, but he’s a suit. And you know I don’t do suits.”
“Mmmm.” Selie packed a lot into her mmmms. “That’s too bad. A nice normal boyfriend could do you some good. Anyway, I can’t make that doggy decision for you,” her sister said, displaying the wisdom of age, or at least the wisdom of being a few years older than Sophie. “But I do know that you can put ‘first rights’ on the dog, so you can be the first to adopt her if you decide to.”
“What are first rights?”
Selie explained the procedure that guaranteed the dog would go to the person who brought her in. Almost decided, Sophie ended that call and placed another call to the animal shelter. With a little trepidation, she forked over her credit card information and paid ten dollars for the right to be able to adopt Sasha when she became available first thing Monday morning.
Ryan had completed his pro and con lists, neatly printed on a thick yellow legal pad, Saturday night. The reasons for bringing Sasha home outnumbered the reasons against. He was getting the dog, and that was that. He had called the shelter and knew Sasha would be available for adoption first thing Monday morning. Ryan would be there bright and early to make sure he was first.
“I’m getting a dog,” Ryan announced to his mother and brother at Sunday brunch.
He was the last to arrive to the busy upscale eatery on Ventura Boulevard, Sherman Oaks’s restaurant row. His brother had a large mug of steaming coffee, likely his second, and his mother, tap water, per usual. He ordered decaffeinated tea.
“That’s cool,” Cameron said, clapping him on the shoulder. His mother didn’t look as thrilled. “I think you need a wife, not a dog. Someone to take care of you, not something to take care of.”
“Mom, it’s not like I’m not trying,” Ryan said, casting a sidelong glance at his brother. Cameron shrugged almost imperceptibly, looking happy not to be the brother under scrutiny for once. Cameron was two years older than Ryan and already had one divorce under his belt. His mother had given his brother a
“We?” Sophie laughed, unable to hide her incredulity. Her parents never missed a chance to express their disappointment at her life and career choices. “I don’t think they envision me being co-host of a party for another of Daddy’s endless honors. Besides, my Norma Kamali is at the cleaners.”
Selie sighed, the old hurts resurfacing. “It was just a thought, Sophie. I think you and the ’rents need to bury whatever hatchet you guys have between you—or however that metaphor goes.”
“I know,” Sophie said, closing her eyes and trying to draw on some reserve of inner calm. “You’re right. We’re all getting a little too old for this. I’m never going to finish college, and they’re never going to have the perfect younger daughter they wanted. The sooner we all settle on that, the better.” She paused to clear her thoughts. “Let me think about it. Maybe I can play the perfect daughter for one night. So,” she said, abruptly changing the subject back to her original reason for calling. “Do you think I should get Sasha?”
“Who?” her sister asked. Sophie sighed. Why was it so hard for anyone in her family to focus on her problems for more than a minute? It was all too easy for them to dismiss anything that concerned her as frivolous.
“The dog, Selie. That’s our nickname for her.”
“Our? Yours and whose?” Selie said, fully attentive now that her curiosity was piqued. Sophie wanted to kick herself in the ass for that unintentional slip.
“No one, really. There was just a guy who helped me out when I caught her on the freeway,” Sophie said doing her best to minimize Ryan’s role and avoid any awkward questions.
“Is this guy single?” Selie asked, very much back into the conversation.
“Yes, I think he’s single, but he’s a suit. And you know I don’t do suits.”
“Mmmm.” Selie packed a lot into her mmmms. “That’s too bad. A nice normal boyfriend could do you some good. Anyway, I can’t make that doggy decision for you,” her sister said, displaying the wisdom of age, or at least the wisdom of being a few years older than Sophie. “But I do know that you can put ‘first rights’ on the dog, so you can be the first to adopt her if you decide to.”
“What are first rights?”
Selie explained the procedure that guaranteed the dog would go to the person who brought her in. Almost decided, Sophie ended that call and placed another call to the animal shelter. With a little trepidation, she forked over her credit card information and paid ten dollars for the right to be able to adopt Sasha when she became available first thing Monday morning.
Ryan had completed his pro and con lists, neatly printed on a thick yellow legal pad, Saturday night. The reasons for bringing Sasha home outnumbered the reasons against. He was getting the dog, and that was that. He had called the shelter and knew Sasha would be available for adoption first thing Monday morning. Ryan would be there bright and early to make sure he was first.
“I’m getting a dog,” Ryan announced to his mother and brother at Sunday brunch.
He was the last to arrive to the busy upscale eatery on Ventura Boulevard, Sherman Oaks’s restaurant row. His brother had a large mug of steaming coffee, likely his second, and his mother, tap water, per usual. He ordered decaffeinated tea.
“That’s cool,” Cameron said, clapping him on the shoulder. His mother didn’t look as thrilled. “I think you need a wife, not a dog. Someone to take care of you, not something to take care of.”
“Mom, it’s not like I’m not trying,” Ryan said, casting a sidelong glance at his brother. Cameron shrugged almost imperceptibly, looking happy not to be the brother under scrutiny for once. Cameron was two years older than Ryan and already had one divorce under his belt. His mother had given his brother a