Obedience Lessons

Obedience Lessons: Chapter One

A/N: This version of the book is an early edition. The edited is now available for purchase online on amazon.

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People like him drove me insane. Dylan Ryman believed he sat on a throne to rule over the rest of us carrying about our insignificant lives. Where our own houses followed the same plain code the community had established early on, he built an ornate mansion, complete with four hundred meters of driveway from the gate to the doorstep. His gated home had security to turn away undesirables, from preachers to urchins and community petitioners, they all received the same unyielding answer - "Mr. Ryman is not seeing anyone today."

For a long time I'd managed to ignore him, after all we all had a life to live. Mine had enough shit without bothering with another asshole like Mr. Ryman. But that attitude all ended this morning.

I hadn't even taken note of the constant barking of the strays running after a car, it happened every few days since the pound was lethargic and always losing the dogs. Dave, the guy that ran it didn't have the heart to put them down, and let them out since a couple neighbors would feed them scraps from their kitchens. I ignored the yapping as I emptied my trash until a black Porsche screeched maddeningly around a turn.

Predictably, the dogs took up the chase with gusto, running along the car and barking their heads off. I watched, horrified as I realised Dylan's intention as he flipped the bird out his window and swerved suddenly towards the side where a spotted white dog kept pace with his car.

A high pitched yelp cut the air and my heart sped dangerously. I'd dropped the trash and started running towards the injured dog while the remaining strays scattered. The black Porsche continued its way, Dylan uncaring of the situation he'd created.

Spotty lay on the ground with his back legs at weird angles and blood seeping from his joints that were obviously broken. I phoned the vet that was right around the corner, blinking back tears and swallowing the nausea I felt at seeing the dog in pain. He started a low whimpering as he saw me standing over him that just broke my heart.

The vet picked up after a few rings and I guess I managed to explain the situation enough for him to have sent a van around for me and the dog. During the time waiting for the van a few neighbors came out. Mrs. Headley, a stocky, older woman that usually fed the dogs, rushed out with bandages and towels, then backed away as she saw the blood.

"Cruel son of a bitch," she said when I ratted out the perp.

I couldn't even be amused at the fact that she'd used foul language I'd never heard from her before. She'd gotten it right after all. I just knew that I'd be having words with Mr. Ryman later that day, whether he liked it or not. I snapped a photo of poor Spotty and started to murmur at him to calm him down.

Romeo whistled low when he caught sight of the dog, having rushed from the van to collect him. He picked him up gently as the dog licked at his face all throughout the process of being lifted from the van to inside on the examination table.

"You sure you want to stick around for this," Romeo asked, his face making it plain that I didn't want to see this.

I nodded, exiting the room. "Just let me know when Spotty's okay." I backed out of his office and took a chair. Then I worried and fretted.

The bastard wouldn't get away with it. One thing kept me from phoning the police on him. He could afford the damn fine, and the money wasn't the point. Someone had to teach this guy a lesson. So I opened up a new document on my phone and started to type.