Celebrity

by De Ross, Melinda

  “Oh, anxious to get rid of me already?”

  His tone sounded joking, but there was a slight edge to it.

  “No, of course not. Far from it,” I whispered softly.

  “Whew! That’s a relief, because I’m sitting here in the limo, whispering into my phone like a teenager and wondering how it’s possible to miss you already.”

  I let myself slide down the pillow and onto the bed like melted ice cream, closing my eyes in bliss. I remembered his lips on my breasts, his hands on my body, his mouth on mine, his incredible gray eyes smoky with desire.

  “I miss you too, Blake.”

  After a few moments of silence, during which I was sure our erotic recollections merged together as our bodies had last night, he said, “Listen, we’ve arrived at the hotel. I’ll call you later, okay?”

  “Sure. Take care.”

  “You too. I can’t wait for you to get here.”

  I put the phone back on the nightstand, unable to wipe the large smile off my face. He’d missed me! Blake Tyler, famous movie star and idol of millions of women across the world had missed me. Somehow, this simple statement was just as important, or even more meaningful than our lovemaking.

  I wasn’t as naive as to think he’d been a saint. He’d probably had dozens of women in and out of his bed. As I pictured him doing with another woman what he’d done with me, my smile faded. I felt a painful twinge in my heart. An image of Richard and his blonde bimbo flashed through my mind. It was absurd, because I honestly didn’t love Richard and didn’t care about his betrayal anymore. I had never been as attracted to him as I was to Blake, and never had he made me feel so special, so wanted. I guess my subconscious wasn’t ready yet to forgive and forget his cheating. But I wasn’t going to let the ghost of the relationship I’d had with Richard ruin the happiness Blake made me feel.

  I didn’t want to think about what would happen next, if what we had would last for a week or a lifetime. I was going to enjoy every second by his side. With renewed energy, I sat up again and began writing, mentally sketching my fictitious heroine and placing her in absurdly comic situations. I hadn’t been so inspired in a long time, so I had to take full advantage of this creative spell.

  ****

  It wasn’t until the light began to fade that I lifted my gaze from the screen of my laptop. When I looked out the window, I saw the sun had set, leaving only a few scattered reddish rays to peek through the California palm trees. I’d been so engrossed in my work the day had passed without me. However, even as I stretched my stiff legs and rubbed my aching back, my good mood lingered. I had put in over five thousand words, which was an impressive accomplishment for any writer.

  As I put the laptop aside, my stomach gave a loud growl, reminding me I hadn’t eaten since yesterday. Blake was not going to feed me golden potatoes tonight, so I had to content myself with the next best thing. I grabbed my phone and dialed my usual restaurant, to order a large pizza with extra cheese and pepperoni. While I waited, I took a quick shower. I was drying my hair with a towel when the doorbell rang, announcing my pizza had arrived.

  After I paid the delivery boy, I dashed to the bedroom and opened the divine-smelling box. I took only a second to admire the rich dough covered with a mountain of melted cheese, then I dug in. Between bites, I opened my laptop again to put on a movie, since I had no TV yet. I chose The Addams Family, one of my all-time favorites. I had nothing better to do, so I might as well have a movie marathon night.

  Half a pizza later I was so stuffed I had difficulty breathing. Somehow, I’d never mastered the ability to control my appetite. I was lucky I had an excellent metabolism, otherwise I would be obese because of all the junk food I ate. Not to mention the cookies and other sweets.

  By the time I finished watching the first Addams Family movie, it was dark outside. A glance at the clock showed me it was almost ten. I wondered what Blake was doing. I longed to call him, but didn’t want to look—actually, show him—how desperate I was to hear his voice. It was going to be a long week.

  Groaning, I forced myself to get up and do some tidying. I opened the window to let in the cool, fragrant night air. Nearby, crickets were chirping their beautiful, melodious serenades. I’d read somewhere that only male crickets could sing. The sounds were produced when the insects rubbed their wings together, and were mostly mating calls.

  I bent to pick up the pizza box and an empty can of Cola. Sliding my feet into flip-flops, I unlocked the front door and walked around back to put the garbage in the trash bin. I was just lowering the lid on the bin, when I had the eerie feeling someone was watching me.

  I looked around slowly and thoroughly, trying to ignore the goose bumps that rose on my arms. Then I spotted the intruder, his face half hidden, his eyes glinting among the abundant foliage of a bush.

  My heart gave a short leap as I straightened, trying uselessly to find a weapon in the dark. There was nothing I could use to defend myself. As though sensing this, the intruder advanced a bit, seemingly unsure of what to do next.

  “Holy crap! Where the hell did you come from, Baskerville?”

  I barely breathed the words, as the huge black dog took a hesitant step toward me, then another. Scared as I was, I thought he looked like a wolf. An enormous, terrifying, lethal wolf. I almost expected his eyes to turn a glowing red.

  I honestly don’t know what I would have done if he’d attacked me, but in the next moment two things happened at once: I noticed one of his front paws was bent and hanging loosely, as though it was broken, and when he tried to take another step toward me, he stumbled and put his weight on it. His involuntary yelp was heartbreaking. I was beside him in a second, regardless of any potential danger.

  “Poor boy, what happened to you?”

  I knelt in front of him and extended my knuckles toward him, letting him smell me. It was a trick I’d read about in Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander, and I hoped to God she knew what she was writing about.

  The dog—not a wolf as I’d initially thought—gave me a cautious sniff. Then he did something extraordinary: he rested his head on my thigh, as though he’d finally found solace after a long, exhausting journey. My heart melted. I stroked him, whispering random words of comfort as I touched him gently, searching for more injuries other than his broken paw. I found none, except for a patch of missing fur around his neck. There was a scar that circled his throat, where the raw tissue was exposed. Obviously he’d been tied tightly, for an extended period of time. Tears stung my eyes and my teeth clenched at the thought of the monster who’d done this to a defenseless animal.

  “Thank God you got away.”

  At this, I received a grateful lick on my hand, which made me laugh through the tears. I buried my hands in the thick fur, wondering what to do about the dog. It was too late to take him to a vet, even if I knew one, which I didn’t. I half dragged, half carried him up the back porch, turned on the outside light, filled a bowl with water and grabbed the rest of the pizza I had yet to put in the fridge. When I rushed back, he was lying patiently on his side, waiting for me.

  “I’m sorry, honey, but this is all the food I have,” I said, placing the water and a piece of pizza in front of him.

  He didn’t acknowledge the food, but he pounced on the water, lapping it up greedily until the bowl was empty. He was parched, poor thing! I brought him another one, my heart full of pity. Only after he drank another bowl did he stop and put his head back down, panting, his pink tongue hanging between his white teeth.

  Now that I was able to analyze him closely, I saw he didn’t look malnourished. His black fur was clean and glossy. I couldn’t tell what breed he was—I took a peek to confirm it was a he—but my initial impression of a wolf was accurate. Probably a German Shepherd hybrid. His dark eyes watched me earnestly as I gently explored his crooked front paw. I had no idea how he’d managed to break it, but I was sure it was broken. When I tried to probe further, he gave a short yelp and snatched the paw away, placing it onto the gro
und.

  I sat helplessly beside him, stroking his head soothingly. There wasn’t much I could do for him tonight, other than give him water and food. And make him more comfortable. Back inside, I took the blanket off the bed and folded it to create a soft makeshift mattress. I was startled when my phone rang. It was Blake.

  “Hey, I was just thinking of calling you,” I said, cradling the phone between my cheek and shoulder as I walked through the kitchen, to the back porch.

  “Really?”

  “Yep. I have a... request involving you, me and a large black dog.”

  There was a beat of silence. Then two. Finally, he said, “You’ve got my full attention.”

  I choked out a laugh as I spread the blanket next to the dog and helped him move onto it.

  “It’s nothing kinky, just so we’re clear.”

  “My hopes are crushed.”

  “You pervert!”

  “That’s not what you said last night.”

  Damn him! With a single sentence spoken in that evocative tone, he could make me turn into a pile of horny jelly. However, this wasn’t the time to play. I told him briefly about the dog and his condition.

  “So I wanted to ask if you know a good animal clinic around here,” I finished. “I don’t necessarily mean in Malibu. I can take him to Los Angeles if I have to. I just want him to have the best care.”

  Blake blew out a long breath. “Nope, sorry. I can’t think of any vet clinic. I love animals, but I haven’t had pets since I moved to L.A. Too busy. What about his owner?”

  “I don’t care about his owner. I’m not returning him to be mistreated again,” I said firmly, ruffling the dog’s pointy ears. He seemed better now, pushing his long muzzle into my hand, as though he sensed he’d been rescued. “For better or worse, he’s mine now.”

  I could hear the smile in Blake’s voice. “I can’t blame you. I’d do the same. You should search vets and clinics on Google. I’m sure there has to be at least one in Malibu.”

  “I’ll do that.” I glanced at my watch. “Hey, it’s past eleven. What time is it over there?”

  “Almost two a.m.”

  “And why aren’t you sleeping?”

  “I am, almost. I just wanted to call you before I crashed.”

  Only now did I realize his voice was a bit slurred with fatigue. My heart warmed again and my stroking fingers sought comfort in the dog’s fur. I wanted to touch Blake, to hold him, but I had to content myself with a phone call for now.

  “I’m glad you did,” I murmured. “But please, go to sleep now. You didn’t get any rest last night.”

  “I know,” he replied huskily. “Fortunately.”

  “Yeah... Well, I’ll let you rest. Sweet dreams.”

  “To you too, Kendra.”

  I was about to disconnect when he asked, “By the way, what do you plan to name your new pal?”

  I looked down at my unexpected companion, who was watching me steadily with kind, devoted brown eyes. Even if he was a mongrel, he had a classy air about him. I immediately dismissed cliché-ish names like Butch, Spike or Krull.

  On a wave of inspiration I said, “Duke.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  As soon as I woke up the next morning, I flung the sheet aside and padded to the back porch to see if Duke was still there. I was relieved to find him lying on the blanket, black fur shining in the sunlight. I could swear he smiled when he saw me. As I knelt beside him, he lifted his head and licked my hand.

  “Hey, boy, how are you doing?”

  I cooed as I inspected him once more. The broken paw was stiff and obviously he was in considerable pain. He couldn’t stand my touching it. I frowned, worried when I saw he hadn’t eaten. He’d finished the water though, so I quickly refilled his bowl. Rushing to the bedroom, I switched on my laptop and began to research local animal clinics.

  I found one near the Malibu Civic Center, and less than twenty minutes later I was on my way, with Duke settled as comfortably as possible in the back seat.

  To my relief, the staff at the clinic were very helpful and, more importantly, efficient. The slender, young doctor asked me pertinent questions about the dog. After he examined Duke and took a blood sample, he told me the animal’s paw wasn’t broken, but his knee joint was dislocated. The doctor assured me that this was good news, and that the injury could be treated more easily than a broken bone.

  I sat patiently in the waiting area, while the doctor treated Duke’s leg. Several hours later, when he finally returned to the waiting room, my ass was numb and my nerves taut.

  “The procedure went well,” he told me, smiling when he noticed my shoulders slumped in relief. “I would like to keep him under observation overnight. I don’t foresee any problems, but I’m a cautious person by nature,” he added, giving me a glimpse of white teeth from under his hairy upper lip.

  I smiled back. “Whatever you think best, Doctor Hopkins. I can’t thank you enough. When shall I come pick him up?”

  “Tomorrow afternoon would be best. I’ll also test him further to make sure he’s parasite-free and has all the necessary vaccines. He is in good shape, although he’s very shy and subdued. He needs a loving owner who’ll give him the affection and attention he needs. Dogs require someone to talk to them and treat them like buddies. I’ll prescribe an ointment for his neck, to help the healing process. I’ll leave the prescriptions and other information with Nurse Campbell.”

  I thanked him once again, paid the exorbitant bill at the reception desk, then walked back to my car. As I drove off, I thought of all the adjustments this unexpected pet implied. I had to buy dog food, a collar, a leash, a dog bed, food and water bowls... Most importantly, I had to think what the hell to do with him when I left for New York. Taking him to a kennel was the last option. I didn’t want him to leave the house now, not when he needed to start considering it his home.

  On a whim, I called Harvey, the contractor, and asked him to recommend a housekeeper, one that could be trusted to take care of my dog for a few days, while I was away. To my delight, he told me his sister was a housekeeper, who currently had an opening in her schedule, and also provided house-sitting services. I had no idea there was such thing as a house sitter, but after Harvey explained and assured me of his sister’s discretion and reliability, I asked him to send her to my house the next day.

  That problem hopefully solved, I stopped at a fast food restaurant and ordered some takeout, then made one last stop at the local furniture store, to buy the much-dreamed-of divan I wanted for the front porch. I picked a dozen embroidered cushions as well, left the clerk my address and was promised my divan would be delivered by seven p.m. that evening.

  I couldn’t believe how quickly the day had passed, because as I was driving on the dusty road to home, I could see the sun low in the sky, admiring its reflection in the gleaming ocean. Against a backdrop of fire and sky, seagulls fluttered their wings with poetic grace, in a last flight before nightfall. I sighed, gazing wistfully at the breathtaking scenery, and wishing once more Blake was here with me.

  ****

  The week went by faster than I could have imagined, especially now since I had a companion to help me chase away boredom. In fact, Duke proved to be the best friend I’d ever had, one who didn’t mind when I worked for hours at a time, who waited patiently until I unglued my reddened eyes from the laptop’s screen and remembered to come out of my fictional worlds. He was still a bit too submissive for a dog, but I helped him come out of his shell little by little. In the mornings we took long walks on the beach, frolicked together, then splashed around at the edge of the water until we were both covered in sand. Afterward, we would start all over again, with me laughing in delight and Duke smiling widely, tongue hanging out, furry face glowing with happiness.

  His paw healed quickly, and when the bandage came off, the doctor allowed me to bathe my new pal. It was an interesting experience, because although Duke was extremely well-behaved and even stayed out of my flower beds
, it turned out he went crazy when he saw soap bubbles. I couldn’t stop giggling as I tried to wash him and he clamped his jaw madly on every cloud of foam, right and left, splashing water all over the bathroom and me. When a bunch of bubbles landed on his nose, I heard him bark for the very first time—a playful and amazingly expressive sound. His childish joy made me so happy I wanted to cry, grateful I could offer him a better life than the one he must have had until now.

  In the evenings we sat cuddled together on the front porch, lying decadently on the red and gold divan, like two sheiks straight out of The Arabian Nights, buried among soft cushions. Helped by Harvey and his sister, Mrs. Finch—a domestic miracle on two legs—I had installed rope lights all around the front and the back porch. At night, it was a wondrous sight, as though hundreds of colorful fireflies curled around the railings, rested on the edge of the steps and climbed up the pillars. Lights peeked out from the wisteria tangles, making my house look more fanciful than any fairytale castle.

  And the fairytale wasn’t confined to the scenery. To complete my utter state of bliss, Blake called me every night, without fail. No matter how tired he was, he always found a few minutes to phone and see how I was. They’d already built the sets and started shooting. Mark was renowned for driving the actors at a mad pace, but that was one of the things that made him so good at his job.

  “If you don’t get here soon,” Blake told me on Thursday night, “I’m afraid you’ll be too late. We only have a few more days to film here, then we move on to a village in Northern California for the second part of the movie.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be there Monday,” I promised, lazily stroking Duke’s ears, as he lay with his heavy head in my lap. “Tomorrow I’m expecting the furniture and appliances, and a few of the guys are coming over to help me put everything in its place. I’ve already booked a flight for Monday at 5 a.m.”