The Dog Town Collection

by Sandy Rideout

  Covering his ears, Frank chanted, “Can’t hear you, can’t hear you.”

  Bridget tugged at his sleeve. “Come on, Frank, puleeze. I’ve never had a raise in five years of working here.”

  The cutlery clattered as he went back to wrapping it. “A raise usually reflects exceeding expectations, right? And I gotta say, you don’t always. Some customers are scared to sit in your section. Like I mentioned, you’ve only smiled seven times in five years. Not that anyone’s counting.”

  “You’re exaggerating.” Bridget threw in another smile for good measure. It felt foreign, as if her facial muscles had gotten rusty. “Smile or no smile, my section is usually full all day.”

  “With your buddies, yeah.”

  “My buddies and my clients, and the sponsors for that huge event I throw every year. They all sit in my section, and they buy lots of Doggone Burgers.”

  “Most of your friends are vegans who pressure me to add legumes to the menu.”

  “Frank, I may not be as sweet as Rachel—”

  “You’re lovely, hon,” Rachel said. “An acquired taste.”

  Frank gave up and let the cutlery drop. “I’m sure you’re yanking my chain like usual.”

  Bridget pushed off and spun around again. “Not yanking your chain, boss. I really would like a raise, please. And if you do, I promise to bring in even more big sponsors and convert them to the Boners magic.”

  He shuddered. “Don’t call it that.”

  “Everyone calls it that. At least everyone with a sense of humor. And they’re the only people who matter.”

  “Like you would know,” he muttered.

  “Oh, Frank, I laugh. I laugh all the time. I just do it on the inside, so no one sees.” She stopped spinning and grinned at him. “Isn’t it better that way?”

  He flicked a nervous glance at her grin. “Yeah. Put those fangs away.”

  “And if I do?”

  “Stop scaring people and you’ll get your raise. Your tips might go up, too.”

  “I’ll keep scaring people, bring more sponsors in, and you’ll give me and Rachel a raise. Deal?”

  “I’m missing what’s in it for me, exactly,” he said. “You’d bring these people in anyway because it’s easier to meet during your shift.”

  “He’s got you there, Bee,” Rachel said, topping up Bridget’s coffee.

  “True,” Bridget said. “So you’ve left me no choice but to point this out, Frank: You like me.” She held up her hand. “Yes, I also annoy you. But the fact that I’ve had a key to Boners for four years and you trust me with the bookwork and your bank accounts suggests you also want me around. You just like complaining about me so that you don’t have to pay me more.”

  “You’ve got him there, Bee,” Rachel said. “You could give yourself a raise and he wouldn’t notice.”

  “Correct. Because he can’t remember his own passwords.”

  Frank sighed. “I need you, but I could do without your attitude.”

  Bridget leaned across the counter and kissed his cheek. “My attitude is part of my charm. It keeps the customers coming back for more.”

  “Don’t push it, Bee.”

  She knew their banter was mostly in fun, but still it bothered her a little. Why wasn’t it enough to offer good service without being phoney? “With all I have on the go, I still never miss a shift, Frank.”

  “You’re reliable, both of you,” Frank said, relenting. “Bone Appetit wouldn’t be the same without you. For better or worse.”

  “So, I can give us a raise next time I do payroll?”

  “You win.” He started in on the cutlery again. “Just try not to scare new customers, okay? Hallowe’en’s over and Dorset Hills is moving into the season of giving thanks.”

  Bridget raised her coffee cup. “I give thanks to you, Frank. And I’m going to show my gratitude by not pulling a single prank on you this month.”

  He pointed at her with a knife. “If you can make it to Christmas, I’ll up you another fifty cents an hour.”

  Bridget joined him in rolling the cutlery. “Excellent. I guess I’m not above a little fakery when it comes to paying my mortgage.”

  Frank left the cutlery, sat down on the stool she’d vacated, and spun. “Sounds like we’re in for quite a ride.”

  Chapter 6

  Bridget wandered from room to room, a sloppy smile on her face. It was hard to believe that less than a week after she laid eyes on it, the house was already hers. The Olsons’ daughter had delivered early, so they hired a company to pack and move them in short order. Bridget had her own small army to do the same.

  “Aw, look, Bridget’s in love,” said Cori Hogan. She was pulling pots and pans out of a cardboard box and then stacking them in the kitchen cupboard. “Did anyone ever think they’d live to see it?”

  “I did.” Duff pushed up the sleeves of her cashmere sweater. Yanking on yellow rubber gloves, she opened the fridge door. “I just hoped it would be with a human.”

  “You don’t need to clean the fridge, Duff.” Bridget circled open boxes with Beau at her side. “The Olsons left the place in good shape.”

  In her sky-high heels and designer jeans, Duff had been working harder than anyone, but she had good help. The five women, known among themselves as the “Rescue Mafia,” had sprung into action when the movers left. In just a few hours, they’d nearly finished unpacking and setting up. Bridget had never been one to accumulate stuff, so it wasn’t a huge job.

  As the women moved quickly, dogs of every shape and color wove among them, investigating their new home. Somehow, no one tripped. It was like the action had been carefully choreographed.

  Maisie Todd, a dog groomer, was on a stepladder trying to change a lightbulb. “This thing is stuck.”

  “Let me try,” Duff said, pulling off her rubber gloves.

  “Be my guest.” Maisie backed down the ladder. She had crazy corkscrew golden curls and a cherubic face, but her rosebud mouth was no stranger to F-bombs.

  Bridget watched as Duff quickly scaled the ladder. “Wow, you really can leap tall buildings in heels.”

  Pushing glossy hair behind her ears, Duff grinned down at her. “Absolutely. But I’ve never been good with home repairs, I’m afraid. That’s what men are for.”

  “Oh, please,” Cori said. “We don’t need a guy for this. We’re capable women.”

  She went up the ladder next, climbing to the very top. Small and fine-boned, with short dark hair and brown eyes, Cori had the most commanding presence of all of them. Dogs that outweighed her obeyed without question, and that gift made her the most popular trainer in town.

  “This is stupid.” Cori leapt off the ladder and landed lightly. “We moved a five-ton dresser to the basement and we can’t do this?”

  “How many dog rescuers does it take to change a lightbulb?” asked Nika Lothian, getting ready to take her shot. She was the sweetest of the group, and arguably the prettiest, with her smooth brown skin, black hair and striking amber eyes that glowed with warmth. As a veterinary technician, she was invaluable in keeping all their pets healthy.

  As Nika came back down the ladder, Maisie laughed. “We can turn a feral wolf-cross into a lapdog together, but we can’t change a lightbulb.”

  “My turn,” Bridget said. “If anyone’s going to break it, it should be me.” Sure enough, with one twist, the glass bulb came away in her hand, leaving the metal base stuck in the socket. “Well, that sucks.”

  “I’ve got a guy,” Duff said.

  “You’ve got a guy?” Maisie and Nika spoke over each other.

  “She’s always got a guy,” Bridget said. “The bigger question is… what’s happened to the rest of the harem?”

  Duff shook a rubber-gloved finger as she went back to the fridge. “I meant I have a handyman who can help with repairs around here.”

  “I want a handyman,” Nika said, dreamily. “Is he single?”

  “He is.” Duff laughed ruefully. “I just cut him loose and
I’d be pleased to see him well-homed with one of you.”

  “Let’s let Bridget work her magic,” Maisie said, filling the upper cupboards with dishes. “She’s the professional matchmaker.”

  Bridget snorted from the top of the ladder, where she was trying to pry the metal from the light socket with her fingernails. “It’s accidental. I’d never call myself a pro.”

  “Yet more than twenty couples credit their relationships to you,” Duff said. “Not to mention the others that won’t admit it.”

  “I match dogs with people,” Bridget said. “The human hookups are collateral damage.”

  Bridget was happy to brag about her record with dogs, but the other matches somewhat baffled her. It was true that pageant participants often paired up, but it seemed mostly the result of bringing dog lovers together.

  “That only adds to your mystique,” Duff said, her voice muffled by the fridge.

  “How is it that the matchmaker’s friends are all single?” Maisie asked, starting to line up canned goods on a shelf.

  “It’s a ‘shoemaker’s wife goes barefoot’ situation,” Nika said. “Get on it, Bee. We’re all amazing.”

  “That you are.” Bridget smiled down at four faces, each a unique flower in a bouquet of friends. “More than you know.”

  “Then why?” Maisie pressed.

  Bridget didn’t have a good answer, or at least one she cared to share. She suspected they were an acquired taste, just as she was. They were all attractive, talented and kind-hearted. But like most people who’d seen many animals suffering and abandoned, they could be cynical and guarded.

  “I’ll tell you why,” Cori said, smirking. “We’re bitches.”

  There was a squawk of indignation, and Bridget’s laughter floated over the hubbub.

  “Speak for yourself,” Nika said.

  “I am. I’m a bitch and proud of it.”

  “Well, I’m not,” Nika said.

  Cori dropped one pot into another to make a statement. “Self-awareness, Nika. I’ve seen you hiss like a rabid racoon at abusive dog owners.”

  “I do not!”

  “You do, Nika. We all do. I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. But it’s true. Ask Duffer.”

  Duff was more like an honorary member of the Rescue Mafia. Her work as a real estate agent meant she needed to keep her nose pretty clean. She tended to help out behind the scenes, and at the pageant.

  Rescuing dogs could be a touchy topic in Dorset Hills. In a city known for its dog-friendly ways, that some should be neglected, cast off or worse was hard to admit for civic leaders. City Council backed the annual rescue pageant but allocated minimal funding for animal services. When legit channels failed pets in need, the Rescue Mafia sometimes worked like thieves in the night. As part of a wider network that spanned other Hills communities, they had war stories galore.

  But today they could put down their swords. It was a celebration.

  “Don’t put me on the spot, Cori,” Duff said. “You’re all wonderful, and I’m not the matchmaker, anyway.”

  “But you’re the only one of us who dates regularly,” Nika said. “What’s your secret? I mean, aside from the heels.”

  Duff laughed. “If there’s a secret, it is the heels. Or more specifically, in acting feminine.” Objections began and she raised her hand. “You asked! I may not be as capable of scaling a fence and liberating a neglected dog as you are, but when it comes to dating, I know a few things. Basically, I try to put on the girl.”

  “So, be fake, you mean?” Cori said.

  “See, this is why I didn’t want to be dragged into the discussion.” Duff loaded produce into a fridge drawer with too much force. “I’m not faking anything. It’s all me.”

  “What do you think, Bee?” Maisie asked. “Are we scaring men away?”

  “If they’re so easily scared they’re not worth having,” Bridget said. “Besides, if there’s one thing I’ve learned in rescue, there’s a lid for every pot. Your numbers will come up eventually, and if I have any magic touch at all, you can be sure I’ll help.”

  Mollified, Maisie offered Bridget a set of pliers. “Give those a try.”

  “Uh-uh. Leave the light alone, Bee,” Duff said. “Getting electrocuted before the pageant is a bad idea.”

  “Afterwards wouldn’t be ideal either,” Bridget said. “I have one helluva mortgage to pay.”

  “It’ll work out fine.” Duff buffed the fridge door with a dish towel. “Now to decorate the place.”

  “It’s already perfect,” Bridget said, glancing over the kitchen and living room. “But you can do what you like, as long as it’s not dog-kitschy. I get enough of that at work.”

  “Nearly done, and it’s not even four o’clock,” Nika said. “How about I make my famous chili for dinner?”

  Bridget noticed that Beau was pacing back and forth by the low front windows of the living room. “What’s wrong, buddy?”

  Cori looked around quickly. “Head count!”

  She called out the dogs’ names one by one and they came and sat in front of her. Where there should have been 13, there were 12.

  “Fritz!” they all yelled at once. The gray-and-white terrier mix did not appear.

  “Spread out and search,” Cori said, assigning each of them an area of the house. They deployed without question. When it came to this sort of thing, the trainer ruled humans as well as dogs.

  Five minutes later, they regrouped. No Fritz. “Could he have gotten out with the movers?” Bridget fretted. “He’ll have no idea where he is. What if he tries to get back to my old place?”

  “Relax,” Cori said. “He won’t have gone far, and it’s a nice day. Let’s get moving before we lose the light. We’ll fan out and find him in no time.”

  They grabbed their coats and gathered at the door. The housewarming effervescence had evaporated.

  Maisie went out first. She stopped suddenly and they smacked into her from behind.

  Slipping around them to see what had caused the jam, Bridget came face to face with Sullivan Shaw. He was standing in the middle of the parking area. Under the arm of his leather jacket was Fritz.

  “What are you doing here?” Bridget asked. “And how did you get my dog?”

  Fritz struggled to get down but Shaw held onto him. “This little charmer knocked over my trash can and spread the remains of my week all over the driveway. I figured he belonged here and came over to ask.”

  “Your trash can?” Bridget asked. “Where exactly is that?”

  “Right outside my house,” he said, smirking. “Which happens to be on the other side of your barn. I guess you didn’t bother checking out the neighbors before making an offer. Let alone checking out the house itself.”

  A fire started in the pit of Bridget’s stomach. If she’d had something to throw at that smirk without risk of hitting the dog, she might have.

  Duff moved through the women and blocked Bridget. “Thanks for bringing Fritz back, Sullivan. It’s nice to have good neighbors.”

  Sullivan set Fritz on the ground and the dog trotted over to Cori and sat down in front of her. “Good boy,” she said. “You little brat.”

  The other dogs pushed between knees and feet, and then surged down the stairs to greet Sullivan with enthusiasm. Only Beau held back. His tail dropped gradually, as if he didn’t want to be blatantly rude. He didn’t like Sullivan, and he certainly wasn’t a faker.

  “Do you mind?” Sullivan said, as muzzles poked and prodded him according to the dog’s height. Fritz pawed at his Blundstones, which had apparently survived the puddle. Morty the Lab mix and Lulu the collie got a lot more personal. Shaw raised his knee and pushed the dogs gently away.

  “They smell something good,” Cori said.

  Sullivan raised his eyebrows and Cori’s face reddened. Bridget didn’t remember seeing her warrior friend blush before.

  “Are you packing liver treats?” Cori asked.

  “Why would I carry liver treats? I don’t have a
dog.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry.” Cori’s tone made it clear that a man without a dog was a pitiful thing indeed.

  “I’m not. This crew seems like trouble.” He threw Bridget a glare. “I’d ask you to keep them on your property—since you didn’t want it to be my property. We don’t all have fences out here.”

  “So, this is the guy.” Cori turned to Bridget. “The sore loser who tried to bribe you.”

  “Cori, please,” Bridget said. “We’re neighbors now, apparently. And Fritz was just picking through his garbage.”

  Cori picked Fritz up and held him in front of her face. He tried to lick her nose. “Good thing we have a few weeks before the pageant, pal, because you’re not perfect yet.”

  Sullivan snorted. “He tried to nip me on the way over.”

  “He was just scared,” Cori said. “If a strange man picked you up, you’d nip, too.”

  “I’d do worse than that,” Sullivan said.

  The women laughed, including Cori. Sullivan grudgingly smiled, too.

  Seeing a chink in his armor, Duff stepped forward. “Could I ask you a favor, Sullivan? We’ve got a little problem none of us can solve.”

  “I’ve got to get home,” Sullivan said.

  “It’ll only take a minute, honestly.” Duff’s voice was like honey, golden and sweet. “If you don’t mind.”

  “Well, okay.” He came toward the house and the women scattered. Cori, Maisie and Nika went down the stairs, and Bridget and Duff backed inside.

  In the kitchen, Duff handed him the pliers and gestured toward the ladder. “Each one of us has tried to get what’s left of a lightbulb out of that socket. And failed, I’m afraid. I think we need a man’s touch.”

  Shaking his head, Sullivan said, “Are you trying to manipulate me or electrocute me?”

  “Neither,” she said. “I’m trying to ease neighborly relations for my friend. Is it working?”

  “Turn off the switch and I’ll see what I can do.” He climbed the ladder and took care of the problem in about fifteen seconds. Climbing back down, he handed the pliers to Bridget instead of Duff. “That’s just the beginning of stuff that’s going to fall apart here.”