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Briar

“Did you hear?” my best friend, Heidi, says, her eyes scanning my face.

I brace myself, already guessing what’s coming. “If you’re about to tell me they filled the bird trainer spot with an outside hire, I might just scream.”

Heidi’s face falls flat. “Okay, I won’t tell you then.” She starts tapping away on her phone, obviously scanning the dating app she’s on.

I slump into the chair in the break room of the Saint Pierce Zoo Bird Aviary. This place—the largest open-air Asian aviary in the Western Hemisphere—is where I’ve dreamed of working as a bird trainer for as long as I can remember. It’s an important role here; training some of the rarest birds in the world for the zoo’s educational shows is a big deal.

I’ve been chasing this job for a year, only to be consistently overlooked. Right now, I’m stuck with cleaning cages and handling other menial tasks that the zookeepers usually avoid.

“I can’t believe they hired someone else,” I mutter, the disappointment heavy in my voice.

Heidi tucks her phone into her handbag and settles down beside me, her big brown eyes locking onto mine with a mix of sympathy and determination. “They’re idiots,” she says, her voice firm. “Briar, you’re one of the best bird trainers I’ve ever seen. I mean, who else would take in a rescue parrot and teach him how to speak?”

I nod, the mention of Jeb, the Congo African Grey parrot I’ve been working with, tugging at my pride and frustration. “Jeb’s great and easy to train, but yeah, I don’t understand it either.”

Heidi leans in closer, her expression serious. “Listen, maybe you need to sit Marcie down and tell her how you really feel.”

I shake my head vehemently. “I can’t do that. No way.”

Marcie’s my boss, the head of what Heidi sarcastically calls the ‘grunts,’ and one of the toughest women I’ve ever met. She’s the no-nonsense, doesn’t-take-shit-from-anyone type. I once asked her for a day off to go to the beach, and she told me the beach wasn’t going anywhere and I could visit it when we weren’t in the middle of the busy season.

Since then, I’ve learned to navigate around her as much as possible, avoiding her like the plague. I’ve gotten pretty good at it, too. It’s not just a matter of preference; it’s survival.

“Hey, Marcie wants everyone over by the entrance to the Wings of Asia in ten minutes,” Perry calls out as he passes by. He’s another grunt worker like me and Heidi, part of our little trio of bird poop warriors. It’s not glamorous, but someone has to do the dirty work at the zoo, and that someone is us.

I sigh, grabbing my gloves and standing up from my seat. “This is my life. I’ve accepted it.”

Heidi, always the optimist, stands too and wraps an arm around my shoulders, giving me a reassuring squeeze. “No, it’s not. This is just a stepping stone on the way to bigger and brighter things. Trust me. And hey, at least you finally left Jason. That guy was toxic as fuck.”

If only she knew how toxic. And how he’s still lingering. Just the thought of him sends a bitter taste to my mouth. It’s been weeks since I left him, and he’s just not getting it. He still messages.

“When we first met, it was… I don’t know. Like everything was falling into place,” I admit, half to myself, as the memory of Jason’s charm flickers through my mind. He had that effortless way of making me feel special, but it was short lived. And then all the red flags started appearing. “I really don’t know why I stayed with him as long as I did.” I should have left at the first sign.

“But I was so wrong,” I continue, my voice hardening as the memories of the lies, the manipulation, and the gaslighting come flooding back. “I never thought I could be that wrong about a person. I mean, I can read birds like nobody’s business, but humans? Apparently, I’m terrible at it.”

Heidi rubs my back, her expression soft but knowing. “You weren’t stupid, Briar. He was just that good at lying.”

“I believed every word,” I mutter. “Every damn word. He was a manipulator, and I was the fool who trusted him.”

Jason had been a master of pretending. He spun lie after lie after lie. I cringe at the thought of how easily he had me wrapped around his finger. Now, I feel like an entirely different person—more guarded, more cautious, and definitely not as na?ve.

“Thank God that’s over,” I lie, shaking off the dark thoughts.

“Damn right,” Heidi agrees, giving me one last squeeze before letting go. “Onward and upward, girl. Let’s show Marcie that you’re meant for more than this grunt work. We’ll make sure that bird trainer spot has your name on it next time.”

I nod, forcing a small smile. Maybe Heidi’s right. Maybe this is just a stepping stone. But for now, it’s hard to see past the bird poop and broken hearts.

“I’ll never make another mistake like that again. I’m done. I’ll never fall for anyone ever again,” I declare with finality, feeling the conviction settle deep into my bones.

Heidi’s brown eyes widen, her usual easygoing expression tightening with concern. “Well, that’s a bit extreme, don’t you think?”

“I’m serious,” I insist, my voice firm. “I have way too much I need to accomplish before I let another man into my life like that again. And for what? To be completely shattered? Never again.” I shake my head, more resolute than ever.

Heidi sighs, her brow furrowing. “You can’t let one asshole dictate your future. That’s not fair to you, Briar.”

“I’m not,” I say, my voice softening but still unyielding. “But I’m also not about to pretend like I didn’t learn from my mistakes. I trusted him blindly, and it backfired in the worst way. I’d be a fool to do that again.”

Heidi shrugs, her playful nature dimming just a little as she considers my words. “I guess I see your point. I just don’t want you to shut yourself off from the world because of some douchebag.”

I offer her a small, tight-lipped smile. “Trust me, Heidi, I’m not swearing off the world. Just… relationships. At least for a long time.” I cross my arms, trying to make the decision feel more empowering than defensive.

A teasing grin pulls at Heidi’s lips as she eyes me mischievously. “Well, I’ve just been asked out by Perry.”

I burst out laughing despite myself, the tension in the room easing slightly. “Perry? Seriously?”

Heidi widens her eyes and opens her mouth in mock shock, but the blush creeping into her cheeks betrays her. “I don’t like Perry,” she says, the denial coming out far too quickly.

I arch an eyebrow, folding my arms as I smirk at her. “Uh-huh. Sure you don’t.”

Her cheeks flush an even deeper pink, and she swats at me playfully. “I don’t! It’s just… he’s funny, okay? And kinda cute in that dorky, bird poop-cleaning way.”

“Uh-huh. Sure,” I say, stretching the words out as I give her a knowing look.

Heidi huffs dramatically, but I can see the smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “I swear it’s not like that! But hey, at least one of us should be allowed to have a little fun, right?”

I shrug, my smile softening. “If you want to date Perry, you should. Don’t let my past relationship deter you.”

Heidi laughs, her earlier tension fading as she rolls her eyes. “I haven’t said yes yet.”

But even as she says it, I can see the glint of amusement in her eyes, and I know she’s considering it.

As for me, I’m still committed to my decision—no more falling for smooth-talking charmers like Jason. I’ve got my work, my goals, and my birds to focus on. Love can wait. Or maybe it’s better off not showing up at all.

I laugh, dragging the word out. “ Riiiiight .”

Heidi rolls her eyes, grabbing her things with a huff of mock indignation. “I haven’t.”

“Uh-huh,” I tease, my grin widening as we leave the break room and head toward the aviary. The air outside hits me like a warm blanket, thick and humid, but the sky is bright and clear, a perfect shade of blue with barely a cloud in sight. “Let’s hope we avoid the afternoon showers today.”

“Fat chance,” Heidi says, glancing up at the sky with a skeptical squint. “You know it rains like clockwork at four p.m. every day.”

She’s right, of course. Like a daily ritual, the afternoon rain always sweeps through, cooling everything down for a few moments before the humidity comes back with a vengeance. The birds love it—happily flapping their wings in the downpour—but I can’t say the same for my hair. I run a hand through it, dreading the inevitable frizz. Not that it matters. It’s not like I’m trying to impress anyone these days.

As we stroll through the park, the lush greenery of the aviary stretches out before us, a beautiful oasis of tropical plants and the melodic sound of birds chirping in the trees. This is one of my most favorite places in the entire world. But today, there’s a subtle edge to my mood, a nagging sense of frustration that lingers just beneath the surface. Maybe it’s the constant rejection for the bird trainer position, or maybe it’s Jason still haunting my thoughts despite my resolve to move on.

My phone pings with a text, pulling me from my thoughts. I reach into my pocket and glance down at the screen, relieved when I see who it’s from—my mother.

Mom: Got you someone to watch over you.

I frown, quickly typing back, wondering what on earth she means.

Me: What? Who?

Her response is immediate, which makes my stomach drop even further.

Mom: Security.

“What the hell?” I mutter under my breath, stopping in my tracks.

“What is it?” Heidi asks, peering over my shoulder as I stare at the screen.

“My mom…” I hesitate, trying to make sense of the sudden, cryptic message. “She says she’s got me a bodyguard. Like, someone to watch over me.”

Heidi’s brows shoot up. “For what? Did Jason do something?”

“No,” I lie, my fingers hovering over the screen. A familiar mix of frustration and anxiety bubbles up inside me. My mom has always been a bit overprotective—especially after what happened with Jason—but this? This is next level shit.

“I mean, it’s kind of sweet, I guess?” Heidi says, though her voice is unsure. “Maybe she’s just worried about you after everything.”

I shake my head, my thoughts racing. “I don’t need a babysitter. I’m not some damsel-in-distress.”

“I know, but you can’t really blame her after everything with your ex,” Heidi says, her tone softening. “You know how your mother gets.” Heidi’s been my best friend for years, and sometimes I swear her and my mother are closer than I am with my own mother.

However, she’s right. My mom never really liked Jason, and after everything blew up between us, her protective instincts obviously kicked into overdrive. But this—hiring security? I groan internally, already dreading whatever conversation I’m going to have with her later.

I glance around at the aviary, its peaceful beauty suddenly feeling a little less comforting with this unexpected complication looming over me.

My mother can be a bit... dramatic. I hate that about her sometimes, though I know it comes from a place of love. She panicked the second I mentioned Jason calling and texting me again. He hasn’t done anything threatening or dangerous—just his usual desperate attempts to "explain" how he’s not a lying, cheating jerk. But my mom? She jumped straight to DEFCON 1.

I roll my eyes at the thought. A bodyguard? Really?

I fire off a quick response, trying to reassure her.

“Mom, I can’t have a bodyguard following me around at work. I’ll be fine.”

I shove my phone into the back pocket of my jeans, feeling the weight of the conversation still hanging in the air. Just another thing to worry about.

With a sigh, I join the rest of the staff, lined up near the entrance to the Wings of Asia exhibit. Marcie, in her usual authoritarian fashion, stands front and center, arms crossed, her sharp blue eyes scanning us like a hawk. As always, she’s meticulously put together, her red hair slicked back in a tight ponytail that could probably withstand a hurricane. She’s tough, no-nonsense, and always demanding excellence—especially from me.

“Now, we have some VIP parties this upcoming week,” she begins, her voice clipped and commanding, “so let’s make sure this cage really shines.”

It’s the same speech she gives before every shift, and yet, the unspoken pressure to make everything perfect seems heavier today. Clean, clean, and more cleaning. That’s the core of our lives here in the aviary. No one, especially the high-paying guests, wants to see bird poop when they’re marveling at exotic species.

I glance around at the familiar faces of my coworkers, who seem just as thrilled about today’s work as I am. Perry stands a little too casually, hands in his pockets, like he’s mentally checked out. Heidi is beside me, tapping her fingers restlessly against her thigh. We all know the drill—scrub down the enclosures, polish the windows, make everything sparkle. But even so, Marcie feels the need to remind us. Every. Single. Time.

“And remember,” she continues, her gaze sweeping across the group, but landing directly on me, “when someone asks you specifically about the species of bird, or anything more technical, refer them to the zookeepers. Don’t try to answer the questions yourselves.”

Her words cut right through me, her eyes boring into mine like she’s already anticipating that I’ll mess up. I bristle under her stare, fighting the urge to snap back. I know she’s talking to me. It’s like she enjoys putting me in my place, constantly reminding me of the invisible line between the “real” zookeepers and us grunt workers.

As if I don’t already know.

I glance down at the gloves in my hand, my knuckles white from the tight grip. I’ve worked here for three years, busting my ass day in and day out. I know these birds better than most of the keepers. But does Marcie see that? No. To her, I’m just another cog in the cleaning crew, here to handle the dirty work while the real stars answer questions and get all the glory.

I tuck a stray strand of brown hair behind my ear, trying to look as nonchalant as possible. In my own defense, I’ve only answered a few questions here and there when the tourists asked. I mean, what’s the harm? If someone’s genuinely interested in learning about the birds, I’m not going to stand there and act clueless. They’re here to enjoy their time, and if I happen to know a fun fact or two about parakeets, who am I to deny them that bit of knowledge?

Okay, maybe I know more than a fun fact or two. The truth is, I’m a walking encyclopedia of bird facts. Years of obsession and dedication have filled my brain with more bird knowledge than even some of the zookeepers here. And if I occasionally outshine them with my enthusiasm? Well, that’s not really my fault, is it?

I can’t help but smirk at the memory of a group of tourists last week, wide-eyed and completely captivated as I talked about the parakeets' natural habitats, feeding habits, and quirky behaviors. The zookeeper on duty had shot me a look that could kill, but it’s not like I was trying to show him up on purpose. I just love what I do. I love birds, and I’m not about to let anyone dim my brightness just because I know my shit. And I so do.

Still, I give Marcie a quick, tight nod, signaling my agreement. “Yes, Marcie,” I say, my voice flat but polite. “I’ll keep the bird facts to myself.” Even though every fiber of my being rebels against that idea. It feels wrong to hold back when people are genuinely curious, but I know how it works around here.

Play the game, Briar. Just play the game.

I glance around the aviary, taking in the lush greenery and hearing the soft flutter of wings as the birds move through the space. I know every inch of this place, every bird call, every branch in the trees. I’ve worked so hard to get here, and I’m not going to let a little thing like being “too knowledgeable” hold me back. If they don’t want me to answer questions, fine. I’ll play along for now. But one day, I’ll be the one they come to for the answers.

Marcie moves on to the next set of instructions, oblivious to the internal pep talk I’m giving myself. But I’m not just a grunt worker cleaning cages. I’m a future bird trainer—and a damn good one.

“Also, try not to get in anyone’s way. Remember, a hidden cleaner is the best cleaner,” Marcie repeats, her usual mantra. We all mumble the words back in unison, like a group of bored school kids who have heard the lecture a thousand times. With a dismissive wave, she sends us off to do our glamorous duty—cleaning bird poop, but discreetly, of course.

As soon as we break formation, Perry strides past, lobby broom and dustpan swung over his shoulders like some kind of avian sanitation cowboy. “I can’t take another day of cleaning parrot shit,” he groans, shooting a wink at Heidi, who blushes faintly and pretends not to notice.

“I’m right there with him,” I say, more to myself than anyone else. The monotony is wearing me down. Sure, I love the birds, but cleaning up after them day in and day out without any sign of advancement? It’s starting to feel like a cruel joke. I know I’m more qualified than whoever they brought in to fill the bird trainer position. I’ve paid my dues, worked harder than anyone, and yet here I am, scrubbing cages.

As if on cue, the new hire walks in, and my stomach drops.

Speak of the devil.

“Name’s Heath Hone, new bird trainer,” the new hire says with a smug smile, adjusting his black-rimmed glasses and tugging at the sleeves of his tweed jacket. A tweed jacket? At the Saint Pierce Zoo. In the middle of Summer? In ninety-degree heat. I bite back a snort, but seriously, who wears tweed to a zoo job?

He looks like he belongs in a lecture hall, not among the exotic birds here at the zoo. I can practically feel my blood pressure rising just looking at him. He oozes pretension, like he thinks he’s too good for this place already.

Heidi leans in and whispers, “Who wears tweed to work with birds?”

“Someone who clearly hasn’t met the humidity yet,” I mutter under my breath, crossing my arms over my chest. Heath flashes a too-wide grin, oblivious to the side-eye he’s getting from the rest of us.

“Pleasure to meet you all. I’ve got a few fresh ideas on how to improve the bird training program here. Just wait until you see what I’ve got planned for the shows,” he says, puffing out his chest.

Oh, give me a break. I can’t believe this is the guy who got the job I’ve been busting my ass for. Fresh ideas? Please. He probably learned everything out of a textbook. Does he even know the difference between a True Parrot and a regular parrot?

Perry catches my eye and raises an eyebrow. He can sense my irritation bubbling beneath the surface. I grit my teeth and force a smile, determined not to let Heath Hone and his tweed-jacket arrogance get under my skin.

“Welcome, Heath. We’re excited to see what you bring to the team,” I lie through my teeth, trying to keep things professional, even though all I want to do is throw him into a cage with the loudest, most obnoxious macaws and see how well his fresh ideas hold up.

This is just another roadblock, I tell myself. I’ve worked too hard to let some tweed-clad know-it-all stand in my way. My time will come.