The Felix Fiasco

by Randi Devilkin

  SATURDAY MORNING, WHEN Princess and I get back from the dog park, it’s after 10 a.m. We find the management office open, but empty. A gigantic floral bouquet sits on a table, aromatizing the air. A note scribbled on the message board reads: Enjoy a cup of coffee, back in ten minutes. As soon as we sit down, an office staffer hurries in. “Sorry. Mr. Marple bought a new car and forgot. He got upset because he thought someone had parked in his covered space. What can I do for you today?”

  “Hi, you must be new. I’m Bev from Unit–”

  “Oh,” she interrupts. “These flowers are for you. They must have cost a fortune. By the way, I’m Dora. Nice to meet you.”

  “For me?” I stare at the mass of flowers, then at Princess, who looks on curiously. The card reads: Please forgive me. I was a terrible date. Sincerely, Fabio.

  The day turns fuzzy. I must be in a trance because when I place the flowers on my dinette, I have zero recollection of the walk home. Princess watches intently. I imagine the gears turning in her brain as she works to uncover the mystery. I don’t have a clue.

  The day’s to-do list has nothing pressing on it, and that’s a good thing. My concentration is shot. In the evening, I join several girlfriends for a movie, and when I get home, I can’t recall the plot. For the second time in eight nights, I indulge in a healthy dose of allergy medication. I hope my brain reboots overnight because in the morning I meet Austin. Tomorrow evening, maybe Jodi and Sandy can help me figure everything out.

  Chapter 7

  Reeking Havoc

  The atmosphere is oppressively sticky when Princess and I take our Sunday morning stroll. We get home, open the door, and get a whiff of the floral arrangement. It emits a more robust fragrance than I’d have imagined.

  While Princess watches Animal Planet, I shower, dry my hair, style it in a mussed top knot, and hope the result is sexy rather than frizzy. I put on a distressed denim skirt and a red crocheted top that accentuates my curves, but my heart isn’t in it.

  Jodi gifted me a heartwarming, racy rom-com about a mature woman falling for her college sweetheart. I plan to arrive early and enjoy a cup of coffee and a great read. Out of curiosity, I attempt to interest Princess in one of the leftover SPAM biscuits. She picks it up with her teeth, marches to the trashcan, presses the lever with her paw to open the lid, and neatly drops the biscuit inside. She glares at me.

  “Message received.” I go back to the kitchen and grab one of her premium treats, which she accepts coolly. “Don’t forget, tonight we have dinner at Jodi and Doug’s. Snuggilicious will be there with her parents. See you in a couple of hours.” I reach to pet her, and Princess steps back. She settles down to enjoy her treat and ignores me.

  Queen’s Don’t Stop Me Now blasts from the radio when I start my car. That’s got to be a sign. At the shopping center, I score a prime parking space, another fine omen. I’m not even thinking about Fabio. Shoot, why am I thinking about that man?

  At the counter, Doug hands me a small coffee in a large mug that allows space for plenty of cream and sugar. “Jodi’s taking muffins out of the oven right now. When your date gets here, order the Cowboy Confection.”

  The coziest spot in the bakery, the two-seater next to the oversized bay window, is available. That’s a trio of good signs, and there’s still time to read before Austin arrives.

  “Hi, Bev.”

  I look up. “Oh. Hello.”

  “Mind if I have a seat?”

  “Sure,” I say. “But I’m meeting someone in,” I check the time on my phone, “about fifteen minutes. How are you?” He looks great, better than I’d remembered.

  “No problem,” Felix says. “I stopped in for a drink.” He holds up a to-go cup. “The coffee here is the best.” He takes a sip. “I saw you sitting here and thought I’d tell the lady in red she looks great.”

  “Uh, thanks.” I feel myself blush to match my shirt. “Oh, I saw the newspaper. Congrats on all that.”

  “Thank you. We finally got some publicity for the program. Those kids are so bright, but don’t have access to quality materials.”

  “I’m glad you got an award for that.”

  “Award?” He furrows his eyebrows. “Oh, you’re talking about the article in last week’s paper.”

  “Wow. You’re a busy man.”

  “Well, nice to see you. Bye.”

  As he walks away, I enjoy the view. Did he look that fine two weeks ago? I settle back into my rom-com.

  “Excuse me. Beverly?”

  I look up to find a balding Ben Stiller look-alike in a tight navy shirt that showcases impressive muscles. “Hi. Austin?”

  He smiles and takes the seat vacated by Felix.

  Austin seems normal and pleasant enough, but our conversation never gains traction. The Cowboy Confection muffins filled with blueberries, cranberries, and orange bits turn out to be the highlight of our meeting.

  After fifty unexceptional minutes, Austin pockets the receipt, leaves cash to cover our order and tip, and bids me farewell. “It’s been a pleasure. Here’s my card if I can ever help you with insurance or anything.”

  He walks away. A heavy sigh sums up the relief I feel. I’d stay and read, but the bakery is packed, and I don’t want to hog the table. After throwing kisses at Jodi and Doug, I head home to Princess. I’m ruminating over the Fabio situation when Felix’s mischievous smile pops into my mind.

  When I open my front door, a sickly funereal scent assaults me. I dispatch the floral arrangement to the back patio, and despite the humid day, open the windows to air out the room.

  Princess isn’t in the living room or the kitchen. After a frantic search, I discover her under the guestroom bed. She has her nose covered with a blanket, and she eyes me with hostility. I don’t blame her, our home reeks. We’re not due for dinner until six-thirty, so it’s out for a walk, then a rest.

  A restorative nap proves elusive. Each time I drift off, Princess puts her nose to my ear and sneezes. She’s not about to forgive the unbearable stench in our home. I give up and start readying for our evening.

  “Hey Princess, let’s take a picture of our flowers to show the gang.” She perks up and follows me to the patio. The arrangement has wilted, but it’s still massive. Princess watches me snap a photo, then marches to the table and knocks the blooms to the ground before she strolls back inside. I gather up the mess and drop it in the trash.

  JODI AND DOUG’S OLDEST son and his family are in town, which keeps the conversation away from my pitiful social life. Their youngsters dote on the dogs. Princess allows the children to teach her tricks she’d already mastered at Polly Purebred’s Canine Academy.

  After dinner, while the menfolk supervise the kids, I pull out my phone. “Get a load of this. Fabio sent flowers.” My girlfriends study the photos, shaking their heads.

  “Interesting. Why are they outside on the patio?” Jodi asks.

  I recap the events from Thursday’s concierge call to Princess sabotaging the flowers.

  “That’s one smart dog,” Sandy says. “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know. Intellectually, I know Fabio stood me up, but our connection–”

  “Dumped,” Jodi interrupts. “Fabio dumped you.”

  “Whatever. Amazing chemistry isn’t easy to forget.” My friends stick out their tongues, roll their eyes, and pretend they’re gagging. “Stop that, please. You’ll be happy to know that other interactions with men have me thinking twice.”

  “Really? I thought things didn’t go great with Austin,” Sandy says.

  “How’d you...oh, never mind. Jodi, it’s my story to tell.”

  “Oops.” Jodi shrugs, but doesn’t look remorseful.

  “The morning wasn’t great, but Austin seemed, well, normal. And another man told me I looked great. Maybe the Fabio thing is weird.”

  “Did you get the number of the man who complimented you?” Sandy asks.

  “Um, no.” I won’t confess to them it was Felix.

  “T
hat’s okay. Darren has a co-worker I’m interviewing for your next date. In the meantime, try to get through the week without doing anything rash.”

  When Princess and I get home, I rummage through the fridge for a bedtime snack and discover all the celery I forgot to give my friends. Subconscious or fortuitous oversight?

  I wash and chop up several stalks, then fill a container to take into the living room while we watch the news. While I’m munching away, Princess sits directly in front of me, staring. “Do you like celery?” She nods and graciously accepts a stick. As she walks away, I say, “I’m keeping all that celery for the two of us.” Princess wags her tail.

  Chapter 8

  Fine Wine and Cheap Beer

  The events of the past two weeks have tuckered me out. That’s fine because my dating life is on hiatus until Sandy deems otherwise. However, my daily celery intake has increased, so if and when a date materializes, I’ll be ready. I can’t stop thinking about Fabio, and more often Felix too, but my instincts can’t be trusted.

  The publishing house’s sales are tanking. The cookbooks have been the only bright spot. I’m due a promotion and need to bring my A-game every day. Maybe I’ll even get to champion my own venture. Jodi occasionally mentions that we should collaborate on recipes from the Double S. A cookbook is an arduous project for someone philosophically opposed to cooking on general principle, but I’ve faked it this far, so maybe....

  Ah ha! Jodi and I should create dog treats. If we can find a dozen Princess approved recipes, our publication would be a best seller. Sandy could partner with us. Princess and Snuggilicious would be celebrities and get their own product line. We could–

  “Beverly, how goes Celery, the Unsung Kitchen Hero?” My boss stands at my desk awaiting a reply.

  “Uh, Scott, hi. It’s great. I was, uh, concentrating. I don’t like to overlook a single detail.”

  “Your work’s been outstanding.” He nods earnestly. “Dill Dos and Don’ts is next in the queue, but a higher-profile project has popped up that requires your skills.”

  Dill Dos? I’m happy to pass on that. “Whatever the business needs, I’m up for it.”

  “That’s what I like to hear. Are you familiar with Harley Johnson, a.k.a. The Big Man?”

  “Yes, sir. He’s got that A Man’s Gotta Eat line of books and merchandise. Just a Man and His Steak and Just a Man and His Ribs have been top sellers for years.”

  “He had a falling out with his publisher, and he’s bringing his business to us. This could be the project that puts us back in the black. I want you to handle him. His new project is Just a Man and His Balls, featuring prime meatballs. He’s hands-on with his projects, so you’ll need to be diplomatic. He’s stopping in on Monday.”

  Just a Man and His Balls? Suddenly Dill Dos looks attractive. Oh well, Princess will enjoy sampling meatballs.

  WEDNESDAY NIGHT, A blocked number rings on my cell phone. After the call goes to voice mail, I check for a message. “Good evening, Bev. Fabio here. I hope you enjoyed the flowers. I’d like to talk to you. Ciao.” With my eyes closed, I replay the message three times, relishing his baritone voice, before growing angry with myself and throwing the phone on the sofa.

  That man’s voice seduces me, stirs something deep inside, and throws my brain off-kilter. Did Fabio realize we belong together, or is that fantastical thinking on my part? His behaviors have been strange, bordering on rude, but maybe he has social anxiety. Oh wait, that’s me. But oh, that attraction. The chemistry is palpable. No one can deny that.

  Should I return his call? My fingers itch to pick up the phone, but Sandy’s words loop through my brain: Although I could phone a man on a Wednesday night, I could do so only if it’s been two days or more since his overture, or if I want to look desperate. Furthermore, I can’t make the call on a Thursday or Friday unless I act as though my weekend is already booked, but then I can’t go anywhere because if he sees me out and about, he’d realize I had nothing particularly interesting going on. Rationally, the earliest I can return Fabio’s call is next Monday. This strategy will keep me from looking anxious or needing to fib. Maybe Fabio will think he has to work harder to get me. If I can restrain myself, maybe he’ll call again.

  Thursday and Friday, Celery, the Unsung Kitchen Hero e-book edition gets wrapped up and the hardback edition readied for a print run. I’ve noticed everyone who worked on this project eating more celery than ever before. My mind still wanders to Fabio, but more frequently to Felix.

  This weekend, Jodi and Doug’s adult children are still in town. Sandy and Darren are taking a weekend getaway. Snuggilicious will hang out with Princess and me. My weekend’s overabundance of free time is on account of my not returning Fabio’s call and Darren’s co-worker failing Sandy’s screening interview. The leisurely weekend is a gift because I need to be rested for Harley Johnson’s project.

  Princess, Snug, and I begin our Saturday at the dog park. The day is toasty, but a breeze from the north keeps us comfortable. The girls play with the other dogs, and after two hours in the bright sun, all three of us need a nap.

  Back at home, I lay down on my bed. Demonstrating power in her compact terrier legs, Snuggilicious hurdles up to join me. Princess gasps, her mouth agape. Within seconds, Snug snores full throttle. Princess closes her mouth and stands guard. After a few minutes, she pads around the room, perhaps pondering her conundrum. Finally, she springs up to snuggle next to her canine BFF. It doesn’t happen immediately, but soon she’s snoring delicately, as only a true princess could do.

  After our long nap, I send a text to my movie buds letting them know I won’t be joining them tonight. As much as I love a flick with sexy superheroes in tights, I sense Princess softening toward me, and I want to make the most of this opportunity.

  After dinner, I prepare apple slices, carrots, and celery for us to share, then turn on the television. Snuggilicious doesn’t like Animal Planet, but she settles right in for Lady and the Tramp. They’re not ready to go to sleep after the movie, so I pop air popcorn, and we watch Snow Dogs. The dogs don’t sleep in my bed, but both give me good night nuzzles. It’s been a wonderful day, and I haven’t thought much about Fabio.

  Sunday morning, we’re off to the dog park early because rain is expected after noon. The air is heavy, and between the moisture and the wind, my hair morphs into a frizzled, tangled mess. The sticky weather doesn’t deter the dogs, who have a ball.

  “Which one is yours?” a kind, masculine voice asks.

  I point to my squad. “That beautiful mocha brown girl. The cute shaggy terrier is her BFF.” I look up to find Felix on his bike. “Oh, my goodness. What a nice surprise.”

  “Here,” he says, handing me a coffee. “I was at the Double S Cafe. The owner said you’d be here and asked me to bring this over. She bribed me with a muffin, but I’d have done it for free.”

  “Well, thank you both. Isn’t it hard to ride with a hot drink?”

  “I had it in my messenger bag.”

  “This coffee is far superior to the mud I brewed earlier at home. Hey, you got any of that muffin left?”

  Felix’s eyes sparkle mischievously. “No. I ate that right away, so I wouldn’t have to share.” I put my hands on my hips and make a pouty face. He says, “I could bring you some later.”

  “Hmm. I’d like that, but we’re heading home soon. This weather zaps the energy right out of me.”

  “What are you doing later?” he asks.

  “Just hanging with the pups. A rainy day calls for a movie.”

  “What movie?”

  “I’m trying Best in Show, but if they don’t like that, I’ll try One Hundred and One Dalmatians, the animated version.”

  “Classics. May I join you ladies? I’ll bring muffins.”

  “When you put it that way...hell, yeah.” I give him my address and set a time before he rides off. I wonder if Princess and Snug will like him.

  Felix knocks on my door at 2:30 p.m. He brings muffins and specialty d
og treats from the Double S. Snuggilicious wags her tail madly, frenetically wriggling her entire body, and slobbers him with kisses. Princess watches Felix and Snug dote on each other before she promenades over to sniff Felix. He reaches to scratch behind her ear, but she backs away.

  He asks me, “May I give her a treat?”

  “Sure.” I’m curious to see how she’ll react.

  Felix holds out a treat to Princess. She gives it a sniff, then a lick. She accepts it, gives it to Snug, and returns expectantly.

  “Commendable manners,” Felix says, and holds out another biscuit. She evaluates the treat before accepting it.

  “Wow. Either that biscuit is irresistible, or she likes you.”

  “Maybe both,” Felix says hopefully.

  “Now let’s eat the muffins. Would you like tea?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  When I return from the kitchen with our teas and the muffins cut into halves, Felix sits on the sofa, and Snug sits on his feet. Princess watches from three feet away. Conversation feels forced, so I put on the movie Best in Show. Snug doesn’t respond to the movie. After a few minutes, Princess steps closer and shakes her head. I try One Hundred and One Dalmatians. Snug is mesmerized, and Princess relaxes, her hostessing responsibilities fulfilled.

  “Is it my imagination, or did your dog select our movie?” he asks. I nod and smile. “Amazing.”

  We stop the film at the halfway point to let the dogs out for a bio-break. Conversation flows easier now that we’re outside watching the dogs.

  Princess nuzzles Snuggilicious’s ear. “I wonder what she’s whispering,” Felix says.

  We get back inside and seated on the sofa. Princess jumps up to the left of Felix and Snug hops up to my right side.

  Felix’s and my shoulders touch, and I say, “If it were possible, I’d think they were pushing us closer together.”