I stare out the window. Our journey has taken us an hour out of the downtown and we’re now heading north on the 101.
“Where are you taking me?” I ask.
“Simi Valley. We’re almost there.”
“I’ve never been to Simi Valley. What’s in Simi?”
His eyes lock on me and I start to tingle. “Me. That’s what’s in Simi. It’s where I live now. Where my business is.”
For a second I’m hurt. I didn’t know he’d moved from Pacific Palisades. There was a time I knew every piece, every secret of him. I never thought he’d leave the coast and now he’s living inland. Why the change?
“How long ago did you move?”
Bobby’s eyes shift from me. He hits the turn signal to exit the freeway. “Almost two years, Kaley.”
Why, that was right after we broke up and he moved out of the beach house. And I never knew he moved away. I study the streets, fighting back unexpected tears.
“So why Simi?”
“I wanted some land. Some space.”
The farther east we drive the less suburban everything starts to look. There are now small ranches, horses, and other livestock mixed with the planned housing tracts.
“Land? For what?” I ask.
“I’m running a small not-for-profit foundation. Still in the fledgling stage.”
His answer takes me by surprise. “You are? What kind of foundation?”
His smile is very satisfied and a touch excited. “We’re almost there. This is something you’ll understand better if I show you rather than tell you.”
I take a small measure of hope from Bobby wanting me to understand this new, unknown element of his life. More than that, it sounds important to him to share this with me. I was right to take off with him today on his adventure. It’s right that I’m here. And if I’m lucky, very soon it will be right between us.
Again I am tempted, so very tempted, to take away the space between us and kiss him.
He hits the turn signal and turns down a narrow gravel road. There’s a small sign at a locked gate: Tiki’s House. What the heck is that? Bobby said he was running a foundation.
I bite my lower lip, refraining from grilling him, and watch as he stops the truck. If the guy prefers to show me, I’ll let him show me. Memories of us come tumbling back. I should have let him lead more often. I should have been willing to follow at times.
Bobby opens his door, hops from the truck and unlocks the chain across the road. He climbs back into the truck. We start to bounce down the gravel road.
I laugh. “What kind of place are you living in, Bobby?”
“It’s private. No one to disturb here. It suits my needs.”
“What needs? And why do you want privacy? Are you growing medical marijuana? Is that your new business?” I tease.
Bobby laughs and I’m relieved that he takes my comment as humor and remembers that I’m a tad sarcastic at times. I smile.
“Nothing so glamorous. I already told you that.”
“Well, you’ll certainly have privacy here. Who’d want to brave the driveway?”
He pretends to give it serious thought. “The driveway is pretty bad. Do you think that’s why I can never convince a date to come home with me?”
A date? I definitely didn’t like hearing that one. I have to force myself to maintain the teasing banter.
I playfully scrunch up my nose. “Maybe it’s your technique?”
He shakes his head. “No, can’t be that. My technique got me the hottest girl in Pacific Palisades.”
The way he’s looking at me makes me nearly cry from the joy of hearing him say that. “And it got a busy independent filmmaker here today.”
His eyes fix on me intensely. “Maybe my technique only works with you.”
I sure hope so, my heart whispers, and I can’t wait another second to touch him. I unbuckle my seat belt. Every inch of my flesh comes awake with anticipation. I start to ease into him.
He opens his door and pulls back. “Come on, I want to show you everything.”
I watch him disappear into the sunlight and a heavy sigh of disappointment pushes through me. Then I notice my surroundings: a charming blue-paint, white-trim farm house, velvet lawns, old oak trees, long rows of tiny structures and….barking?
I climb from the truck and closed the door. “What is this place?”
Bobby smiles. “Tiki’s House. My foundation.”
My eyes widen as I try to absorb my surroundings. “But why is there so much barking? What kind of foundation is this?”
“I rescue dogs. Most of them come to me by way of illegal dog fighting.”
He gestures to the sign. Dog Rescue, Rehabilitation and Sanctuary.
“Dogs?” I don’t know what to make of this. This is not on the list of what I expected Bobby to show me. “You run a dog rescue and rehabilitation foundation?”
Amusement dances in Bobby’s gorgeous green eyes. “You’re the one who told me to be less complacent. To do something meaningful with my life. To find something I wanted to do. To live my own life instead of yours. Well, this is it, Kaley. I’m living my own life instead of yours now. Doing what I love. I’m happy.”
Crap! Was I such a bitch when we were together that I actually said that? And what is he trying to tell me with that speech?
“I’m glad. I never wanted anything but you to be happy, Bobby. It looks like we’ve both found something worthwhile to do with our lives. It’s amazing what you’ve done here.”
He lowers his frame to give a gentle scratch to the fierce-looking pit bull inside a cage. “Maybe if I’d been more interesting none of the other stuff would have happened,” he says so softly I almost can’t hear him.
Other stuff? The lump swells in my throat. How like Bobby to take responsibility for my stupid mistake.
I stare at the long row of kennels. “How many dogs do you have here?”
“Fifty. I’m at capacity. The city won’t let me have any more. Every day new dogs are rescued and there is no place for them to go.”
I shake my head. “And all these dogs were used for illegal dog fighting?”
“Except the Chihuahuas. They don’t fight. They’re used in fight training.”
“I don’t understand. How are they used?”
Bobby straightens up. His eyes are heavy with that sensitive kindness that drew me to him from the start. “They’re bait dogs. Without getting too graphic, they are used to see which pits will fight. If the pit doesn’t kill the bait dog, he’s destroyed and the bait dog is either destroyed or used again.”
I feel sick, like I’m going to vomit. “That’s awful!”
“It’s an important story, Kaley. Maybe you’d like to go on a rescue sometime and film.”
Is that why I’m here? He wants me to make a documentary about the plight of these poor animals?
“Just tell me when and where and I’ll be there, camera in hand.”
Bobby’s lips curl in a slight smile. “Thanks, Kaley. I couldn’t think of anyone I’d rather have tell their story. Maybe with you onboard we can make some meaningful change to the law that will prevent this.”
The law? Did I hear him right? Is Bobby not only a dog rescuer but a full-fledged activist against animal cruelty? Bobby?
It feels like my head is spinning trying to catch up to all the changes in Bobby and all the old familiar sensations coursing through my veins. Everything is new in Bobby’s world. Everything is the same inside me.
“I didn’t even know you liked dogs. I would have never imagined that this would become a cause for you. That this is what you’d pick for your profession.”
“I didn’t pick it, Kaley. It picked me.”
My eyes widen. “Picked you, huh? You’re going to have to explain that one to me.”
Bobby shrugs and he looks a little uncomfortable now. He shoves his hands deep into his pockets and starts to guide me down the aisle between the kennels.
“After we broke up and I moved out, I just wanted to lie low for a while, think things through. We both made so many mistakes and you were right about a lot of the things that you said to me. I couldn’t just live off my folks and do nothing. Or worse, cruise through life as a passenger in your life. Without you, I realized you were right. I didn’t have any idea which direction I wanted to go. What I wanted to do. And then one morning I was up surfing at Rincon and someone tossed something onto the side of the road. When I went to check it out, I found a dog, Kaley. It was Tiki. Bloody. Half dead.”