by M. L. Ryan
Alex nodded in approval of the arrangements. “When will she arrive, and how long does she plan to stay?”
“Tomorrow, and she didn’t indicate the duration of her visit.”
“Well, at least that gives us time to prepare,” I observed.
Sebastian huffed. “Indeed. I hope there’s enough Mezcal in the city to keep her happy. I’d hate to run out.”
3
I felt obligated to defend Karttyx from Sebastian’s accusation that she was a lush. He contended that his concern was not that she might become drunk, only that she was easier to deal with when she was content. He had a point, at least in terms of the potential for intoxication. The Coursodon could definitely hold their liquor. In fact, I’d never seen any Courso tipsy, even when they drank enough to kill a human. And the way she’d taken to Mezcal, she alone could go through a lot of booze. As far as her temperament, I never had a problem with Karttyx. Then again, she wasn’t my boss.
The next morning, tasked with purchasing the alcohol, I headed out to the nearest liquor store. As I entered the garage, however, the stray started to bark. I stopped for a moment. I’d given him more scrambled eggs for breakfast, along with some ham and a leftover baked potato. Good boy that he was, he’d gone the whole night without making a mess, and I had taken him to relieve himself away from the patio twice already. He had water, too, so I was fairly certain his yapping was not due to any of those discomforts.
I stood there, one hand on the handle of Alex’s Jeep Cherokee—I still hadn’t figured out what car I should buy to replace my RAV 4 that burnt up in the carport when my house went up in flames—hoping the dog would shut up. No such luck; his barking escalated quickly to howling. I ran back, grabbing the makeshift leash as I made my way to the patio enclosure.
“Keep it down, would you?” I admonished as I looped the rope around his neck. He wasn’t making any noise now, just wagging his tail furiously. I didn’t see any sign of Sebastian raging over the racket, but there was no way I could leave Big Brownie here in case of a repeat performance.
“You’re coming with me, but no excessive drooling in the car. Alex just got it detailed.” The dog gazed at me, his amber eyes full of anticipation. At least I thought it was anticipation. It wasn’t hard to decipher if a dog was happy versus agitated or afraid, but the finer points of canine expression were a lot murkier.
Being fall, it wasn’t very hot outside, but I parked in a shady spot and cracked the windows so my curly canine companion would be comfortable while I ran into the Booze Barn to get the Mezcal. It took longer than I thought; the place had twenty-four different kinds, and I couldn’t decide which one would be best for an inter-dimensional bigwig. I finally settled on the Wild Shot Reposado, because the description intrigued me—delicate aromas of vanilla, spice, oak, and leather, leather?—and the Scorpion Anejo—because instead of a worm at the bottom, there was a scorpion. I figured Karttyx would enjoy something out of the ordinary.
When I returned, the dog was sitting quietly in the back of the Jeep right where I left him. He greeted me with a full-on face lick, and I noticed that even though the dog was clearly adult, he still had puppy breath. Apparently, some people despised the smell, but I thought it was the most glorious scent ever. If someone made a puppy-breath air freshener, I’d buy it in a heartbeat.
I chose the Booze Barn, not only for its impressive selection of liquor, but also because there was a pet store next door. Using the makeshift leash, I took the pup inside while I bought some proper food and all the other accoutrements he might need. While I paid for the cartful of items, the customer who was behind me in line—an older woman buying hairball preventer for her cat—asked what kind of a dog I had.
“Got me,” I replied and gave her the short version of how I became a dog owner. “Frankly, your guess is as good as mine as to his lineage.”
“Well, he’s just darling, whatever he is. Check on the Internet, I can’t remember the company, but you can send some sort of sample and they will tell you what he is,” she offered. “It’s like a doggy paternity test.”
“I might do that, thanks.” I took my change from the cashier and guided the dog back to the car using his new collar and leash. In reality, he seemed to be very well behaved and would follow me anyway, but I didn’t want to risk it.
Back home, I returned him to the patio and then carried my purchases into the kitchen. On my third trip, Alex happened to be there, grabbed the box with the liquor, and set it on the island. He perused my alcohol choices.
“You think four bottles is enough?” he remarked with a smirk.
“The last time Karttyx was here, she went through a fifth and a half in one evening. Better to have too much than not enough. It’s not like it will go bad.” I started to unpack the bottles when Alex noticed the pet store purchases that I’d already brought in. He didn’t say anything; he just raised an eyebrow.
“What? I only bought stuff that Rufus needed.”
“Rufus? You have decided to call him Rufus?”
“I’m just trying it out. I can’t keep calling him ‘the dog’ forever.”
“Uh-huh,” he said as he rooted around in the first of the large bags. He pulled out a box of treats, a brush, two bowls, and a nail trimmer, setting them on the counter next to the twenty pounds of dog food I’d already left there. “Okay, what’s in the other bag then?”
“Toys. A bored dog is a destructive dog,” I said defensively.
“What, no cushiony bed shaped like a sofa?”
“That’s still in the car,” I admitted.
Alex smiled and shook his head. As he checked the contents of the second sack, he suddenly appeared perplexed. Extracting a large, rubbery ball with different shaped holes cut into it, he asked, “I understand the rawhide bones, but what’s this?
“It’s an interactive game,” I sputtered as I grabbed it from him. “You stick treats in it and they have to figure out how to move the ball around to make them fall out.”
Alex eyed me as if he thought I might be slightly daft. I knew he was worried about me going overboard. Hell, I was worried about it, but it was annoying enough trying to keep myself in check, I didn’t need the voice of reason forcing me to admit my over-indulgence.
“And this?” he inquired, holding a manila envelope marked “Canine Breed Test.”
“That’s to find out what he is. You swab the inside of his cheek and mail it to this company that checks his DNA against all the known breeds.” The cashier at the pet store overheard the woman talking about it and actually had a few in stock.
Alex seemed skeptical. “And you need to know this because…?”
I snatched the envelope out of his hand. “Different breeds have varying propensities for certain diseases; like Dalmatians are more likely to develop gout and Samoyeds tend to get diabetes.”
He didn’t say anything, just pressed a quick kiss to my forehead. As he left the room, I thought I was damn lucky to have Alex in my life. You gotta love a guy who knew when to shut up. That, and the view of his well-toned ass as he made his exit, made me downright giddy.
Despite Alex’s obvious skepticism, I daubed Rufus’ mouth with the scraper supplied in the test kit and slapped a stamp on the envelope. I’d mail it in the morning.
Given the housekeeper’s penchant for keeping the house spotless, there wasn’t much else to do to prepare for our guest’s arrival. Alex and I went for a run to pass the time. To avoid any repeat of the excessive barking when I tried to leave earlier, we took Rufus along. He seemed to enjoy it and didn’t pull on the leash at all. Yet another indication that he must have had a previous owner. What imbecile would abandon a trained animal with perma-puppy breath? I wondered, but their loss was my gain.
Just after lunch, my best friend Rachel stopped by. As usual, she looked fantastic. Her flaxen hair was casually styled in beachy waves, and her outfit—white skinny jeans, camel-colored, suede, high-heeled ankle boots, and a drapey cardigan—completed the oh-I-just-threw-this-toget
her-but-actually-spent-all-morning-getting-it-perfect look. She had every physical attribute I craved but didn’t have—blonde, buxom, and beautiful. Normally, I would be so consumed with envy I’d take an instant dislike to anyone so blessed in the looks department. But Rachel wasn’t at all like most the gorgeous women I’d met. She was considerate, not the least bit self-centered, and an unfailingly loyal friend.
“How was your trip?” she inquired as she glided through the front door. “You were gone a couple days longer than Cortez thought.”
She knew her new boyfriend, Cortez, worked with Alex and Sebastian. She knew I started working with them after I quit my job. But she had no idea about the Xyzok or Coursodon. She thought the guys were private investigators, and I did odd jobs for them. I guess turning into a hawk was an odd job, but she didn’t have a clue about that either. Cortez told her we went to North Carolina to investigate a corporate bigwig, whose stockholders suspected he was skimming their profits. They hired us to make sure he was guilty before they involved the police.
“Fine, but we weren’t completely successful. Our target turned out to be pretty cagey. We never did get a clear bust, and we stayed a little longer in case he slipped up.” Sebastian told me if I had to fabricate a story, to make sure there was a lot of truth in the fib. He said I would be less likely to slip up that way. I didn’t like lying to Rachel, but the secrets of a parallel dimension weren’t mine to tell. “I did find a dog. We brought him home.”
“A dog? Where is he?”
She followed me into the patio, while I filled her in on the details of how I became a dog owner. Rufus was curled up on the cushioned settee, and leapt to his feet the minute he saw us. He greeted me first, by shoving his long nose in my crotch. Good thing he’s harmless, and I’m not wearing a short skirt. Enthusiastic as he might be, genital sniffing was a habit that definitely needed to be nipped in the bud before someone ended up nipped in the bud.
“You think dogs do that to check your scent?” I wondered as I pushed his head out from between my legs.
Shrugging, Rachel began to scratch behind Rufus’ curly ears. “I don’t know, maybe it’s because people’s groins are right at head level. Is that right, boy? Is that right?” In seconds, Rufus was on his back, squirming on the flagstone, while Rachel crouched down and serenaded him with the slightly goofy, universal dog-speak voice that canines adore. The tummy rub probably helped as well.
I wasn’t sure who was enjoying the attention more, Rachel or the dog. “Oh my god, Hailey, he’s adorable,” she squealed.
“You think he’s adorable now, check out his breath.”
Rachel leaned in and let Rufus give her a long lick across her face. I expected her to wax poetic about the gloriousness of his scent and was surprised when all she did was shoot me a confused look.
“You don’t smell puppy breath?”
“Nooo. Should I?” she asked, furrowing her perfectly contoured brows.
It occurred to me that maybe only I could smell it, much like my perception of Alex’s ice-cream aroma. I wasn’t sure how to gloss over why I thought an adult dog would still be blessed with the most heavenly scent ever, so I simply changed the subject.
“You want some iced tea or something?” I offered, pointing toward the kitchen door.
“Sure. You got any cake?”
Yet another reason to loathe Rachel—she could eat anything and never gain weight. There wasn’t any cake in the kitchen, but I did find some Girl Scout cookies that Sebastian had purchased. He maintained he was a supporter of free enterprise, but I suspected he was trying to make headway with the kid’s hot mother who accompanied her on her door-to-door solicitations. Sebastian denied my accusation, declaring he only had eyes for Rachel. As long as she was involved with Cortez, he vowed to curb his self-described insatiable sexual needs until he had the opportunity to take out all his pent-up proclivities on my friend. His obsession with her kind of creeped me out, but I had to admit, he’d kept his womanizing to a minimum since he realized Rachel was “the one”. Of course, I didn’t keep him under twenty-four-hour surveillance, so I still had my doubts. He really didn’t know much about her except that she was my friend, beautiful, and not entirely opposed to kinky sex play. Although, to Sebastian, perhaps the last two were all he needed to know.
We finished the Do-Si-Dos and dove into a box of Samoas. Fortunately, snack time had distracted Rachel from asking any further questions about the dog, so I didn’t have to craft some feeble explanation for my odd assertion. When all the cookies were gone, and we had exhausted our repertoire of usual girl talk, I asked Rachel how things were going with Cortez.
She leaned back in her stool at the kitchen counter and sighed. “I like him and, of course, the sex is fantastic.”
I mentally cringed, wondering why she took for granted that I’d know their sex life was top notch. I had seen them in a compromising position, although I guess she was the only one in a compromising position, being tied to a chair mostly naked and all. But frankly, that was an image I could have definitely done without. Apparently, I disguised my discomfort because Rachel continued without a hitch.
“But we never really talk, and I have a feeling he’s not being completely honest with me.”
“Well, he doesn’t ever say much. I feel lucky if I can get two or more sentences out of him. As for the other thing, what do you think he’s hiding?” I knew exactly what he was hiding, but I tried to appear baffled by her concerns.
She placed her elbows on the granite countertop, rested her head in her hands, and peered out the window. “I don’t know,” she said finally. “Maybe he’s seeing someone else. Does he talk about other women?”
He doesn’t even talk about you. “Like I said, he doesn’t really say much about anything. Besides, I don’t know how he’d have time for another woman. He works a lot of hours.”
“That’s another thing. Even if he’s not involved with anybody else, he’s not around very much. I feel more like I’m his after-hours booty call than his girlfriend.”
That didn’t seem good at all. If there was one thing I knew for sure about Rachel, she always fell hard and she needed a man who worshipped her like she worshipped him. At least for a year or so, until she started to notice all his non-worship-worthy traits. I was about to question that maybe Cortez wasn’t the guy for her, when we were interrupted.
“I hope you don’t mind, Rachel, but I couldn’t help overhearing. A woman like you should be cherished, not made to feel as though she was being used.” Sebastian punctuated his advice with a comforting arm across Rachel’s shoulders. If I didn’t know him better, I’d have thought he was truly concerned about her well-being, instead of trying to weasel his way into her love life.
“You’re right, I suppose.” She gazed up at him, seemingly lost in thought. “You know him, Sebastian,” she began finally. “Do you think he’s cheating?”
Sebastian pondered her question. “I am not privy to his personal life, but if I had to guess, I would say no. But, more important, is the reason why you feel insecure. If your relationship was strong, long absences would not cause you to doubt his intentions.”
Rachel blinked, and then burst into tears. Sebastian took the opportunity to wrap both arms around her and whisper supportive words of encouragement. Although he did surprise me by saying he didn’t think Cortez had someone on the side, the sight still made me want to grab a large sauté pan from the overhead pot rack and pummel him with it repeatedly. I settled for pretending I was gagging when he glanced at me over Rachel’s shoulder mid-hug.
In what was probably only a few minutes—although it seemed like hours—Rachel pulled away. As she used her fingers to wipe away the tears, she sputtered, “I’m so sorry; I don’t know what came over me. I hardly ever cry.”
The apology was obviously aimed at Sebastian. I knew Rachel blubbered all the time—at sad movies, weddings, even when she missed a sale at Nordstrom’s. The waterworks would start even if she saw a complete
stranger sobbing. Anyway, she must have been really embarrassed to display her emotions so freely in front of Sebastian, because she quickly composed herself and declared she had to run or she’d miss her mani-pedi.
We watched as she made a speedy exit. I wanted to walk her to her car, but she said it wasn’t necessary. In fact, she practically insisted I stay put. Alone in the kitchen, I turned to Sebastian and scowled.
“Why are you so distressed?” he asked innocently. “I was merely attempting to assuage her anguish. Affairs of the heart can be quite agonizing.”
“Agonizing my ass. What were you doing, skulking nearby, waiting for an opportunity to swoop in and insinuate yourself with her?”
“Insinuate myself? I don’t know what you mean.” Cocking his head slightly, he added, “However, my dear, I am impressed with your improved vocabulary. Insinuate, indeed.”
“Don’t try to change the subject,” I growled through gritted teeth. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. Rachel is conflicted about Cortez, and you tried to fan the flames.”
“Mixed metaphors aside, was there anything I said that you yourself would not have expressed to her?”
I replayed the conversation in my head. Damn it, Sebastard was right. I might have said exactly the same sort of things to her—she deserved more, and she should figure out if Cortez was giving her what she needed. There was no way I wanted to admit he was right, though. I settled for a little churlish diversion of my own.
“Yeah, but you didn’t have to be so… touchy-feely.”
Sebastian smiled rakishly. “Only a complete cad would stand by and not embrace a damsel in distress. I am many things, Hailey, but an unfeeling lout is not one of them. I have only the most honorable intentions toward your friend. I find her fascinating. But, perhaps more importantly, because she is your friend, I would never manipulate her for my personal agenda.”
The sincerity with which he spoke made me feel really shitty about doubting his intentions. Because of his feelings for me, he’d be respectful and caring with Rachel. Much as it pained me, I had to apologize.