The Chihuahua Affair: Best in Show

by Amy Jarecki

“Anyway, I work plenty and my art is very popular on Rodeo Drive.”

  He nuzzled into her shoulder. “That’s right, baby, you have your wonderful lingerie line, and I love it when you model for me. Only me.”

  Monica smiled and gave him a shove. “Maybe I should open my own East Coast Operations.”

  Brad knitted his brows. “I think you’re doing well enough right here. I need you here, baby.”

  “Of course I would live here, but I could have a partner run the East, I might have to travel to New York to get things set up. I’ll have to think about that.”

  Brad completely brushed her idea off and pointed at the television. “Look, there’s Matt.”

  Monica laughed. “He’s ridiculous next to that tiny dog.”

  “I think he looks pretty good. He seems to know what he’s doing.”

  “Humph. Come on, let’s go. Mom’s waiting and I can’t wait to eat turkey.”

  Brad eased back against the couch. “We’ve got some time. Don’t you want to watch Best In Show?”

  “And watch the evil redhead win? No thank you.”

  “Evil redhead? I think she’s adorable. Aren’t you glad that Matt’s found someone? After all, we really hurt him.”

  A malicious grin passed across Monica’s lips. “I don’t know. Maybe Matt should come back and we could be a ménage-a-trois.”

  Brad laughed out loud. “You are so funny. You get the craziest ideas in that blonde head of yours—I love your sense of humor, honey.” He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her.

  Monica’s mind churned. The scheme of taking her lingerie line to New York was brilliant. The Big Apple was not far from Philadelphia and Matt. She could disguise her trip as business and take a detour to see him. She knew that if he laid eyes on her she could get him back. If she poured on enough charm she would be impossible to resist.

  Brad turned out to be such a bore, and shallow. Monica looked at Matt’s antique engagement ring that she now wore on her right finger. After all, he was of old money and she’d found out too late Brad was of no money. If only she had realized how wonderful Matt really was, she wouldn’t have cheated. At least she would have made a much bigger effort to not cheat. Matt knew how to treat a lady.

  Hmm. This trip will take some planning. I’ll need introductions. Maybe Daddy can help with that.

  “Bra-ad, let’s go, I’m starving.”

  ***

  Ryan hopped into Matt’s SUV just after ten o’clock on Black Friday. “You sure you want to shop today? The dance isn’t until after Christmas.”

  “Why not?”

  “The mall will be packed.”

  “So? We’re big, mean football players, who’d get in our way?” Matt pulled out into the busy traffic. “Anyway, we’re also two handsome men shopping for women’s stuff and that’s irresistible to every clerk on the planet.”

  Ryan fastened his seatbelt. “Yeah?”

  “Just wait, dude, the crowd won’t be a problem, except maybe parking.”

  “Okay. Mom and Amanda are already at the mall.”

  Matt’s eyebrows arched. “Do you know what they’re shopping for?”

  “Christmas stuff I guess.”

  They approached Cherry Hill Mall via Church Road and several blocks before the mall, the traffic stopped. Matt hung a U-turn and pulled off to the shoulder. “We’ll walk from here. It’ll be faster.”

  “You’re gonna leave your car here?”

  “Sure, it’s probably safer than in that cramped parking lot.”

  Others, frustrated with sitting in stagnant traffic with the mall in sight followed Matt’s lead, and soon a line of cars parked both in front and in back of his.

  Heads turned as the two men confidently strolled through Cherry Hill Mall’s big glass doors. People unconsciously stepped aside as they strode with purpose and headed straight to the bridal shop. The clerk’s eyes lit up when Matt walked toward her and grinned. “Hello Irene,” he said reading her name tag. “We need to buy a prom gown and all the accessories for a beautiful seventeen-year-old girl. Do you think you could help us with that?”

  With a gracious smile as toothy as a shark, Irene nodded her head agreeably. “Absolutely. You’ve come to the right place. Do you know what you’re looking for?”

  Matt gestured to Ryan. “She’s about five-foot seven, wears a size six dress and a size seven shoe.”

  Matt gave him a nudge. “Nice job, dude. You didn’t even need the paper.”

  Irene scrawled the info on a pad. “Hair and eye color?”

  “Brown,” Ryan said.

  “Brown?” Matt shook his head. “Dude, you’ve got to give her more than that.” He looked at Irene and made a balloon gesture with his hands. “She has long, silky chestnut hair and her eyes are striking deep pools of liquid chocolate.”

  Ryan’s mouth gaped. “Dude?”

  Matt thumped his chest. “Just watch the pro, Ryan.”

  Clearly entertained, Irene slipped out from behind the counter and put her hands on her hips. “My. You must be attached, because men like you don’t live in my world.”

  Matt and Ryan exchanged glances and Irene, in her black miniskirt and plunging purple blouse, strutted down a line of colorful gowns, stopping and parting the dresses while she considered the options. She returned with three selections. “Have you thought about style?”

  Matt cleared his throat. “Good question. Tell us about style.”

  “Well, juniors are favoring sleek fitted dresses that are sexier like this one.” She held up a purple strapless chiffon dress with rhinestones along the top, which was very slinky.

  Matt’s arms folded. “I’m not so comfortable with something that sexy.”

  She then displayed a classic teal ball gown with a straight bodice, pretty rhinestones and a full skirt. “You might go for the classic Cinderella style like this lovely frock.” The guys exchanged frowns and she held up another. “Or you might go for the mermaid look. This dress just came in and I think it’s gorgeous.”

  Matt focused on the stunning gold satiny dress sporting a splay of glittering pecan rhinestones, skirted by shiny golden flair at the bottom. “That is spectacular.” He glanced at Ryan. “What do you think?”

  “I’m not sure I want to see my sister in that.”

  Matt ignored him. “Perfect. We’ll take that in size six, please.”

  “Can the young lady come in and try it on? The sizes can run small.”

  “No, the dress is a surprise. Is there anyone here who wears a size six? Could we get someone to try it on?” Matt looked around and spied a young woman looking at wedding dresses. Without a second thought, he walked up to her. “Ma’am, I’m so sorry to intrude, but I’m trying to buy a dress for a young lady and you look like you’re about her size. Would you mind trying it on for us?”

  The woman looked at him as if he were Jack the Ripper. “Are you serious?”

  Irene pattered across the room. “I’m sorry. We need a size six model but it is perfectly understandable if you are uncomfortable with that.”

  She looked at Irene and then back at Matt and relaxed. “I’m a six. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.”

  Matt heaved a sigh. “Thank you. The dress absolutely must fit, and it has to be a surprise.”

  “Sounds like fun.”

  Matt and Ryan sat on plush couches toward the back of the store as “the model,” Maryann, slipped into the dressing room. When she emerged, the dress fit her perfectly.

  “Lovely,” Irene said.

  Matt jumped up excitedly and walked around Maryann. “It’s just exactly what we’re looking for. Irene, do you have a necklace and earrings that would go with this?”

  “Don’t forget the shoes too,” Ryan added.

  “What about a wrap?” Maryann asked.

  Matt snapped his fingers. “Yes. How could I forget a wrap?”

  Irene zipped around the shop pulling out shoes, wraps, jewelry and tiaras. Luckily, chocolate rhinestones were popular t
his winter. She held up necklaces while Maryann stood like a mannequin, enjoying the ad lib frenzy.

  Matt suddenly became a two-hundred-twenty pound serious fashion critic. “No, that’s too much. It will overpower the dress.”

  “How about this one?”

  “Hmm. Have you got anything else?”

  “This is nice, brown rhinestones laced with tiny gold beads.”

  “Yes. Try that one.”

  Irene clasped it around Maryann’s neck and held up the matching earrings.

  “Ryan?” Matt asked.

  “Definitely cool.”

  Irene found a matching tiara and a hooded chocolate velvet cape lined with gold satin that could have been out of a Regency Romance. Then she found a pair of perfect gold strappy stilettos to finish off the ensemble. Maryann went to change while Matt and Ryan stepped up to the cash register.

  “What is the dress for if you don’t mind my asking?” Irene asked.

  “Father-daughter dance,” Ryan said.

  Irene looked at Matt. “You must be a wonderful father.”

  He shrugged. “I’m just a surrogate. Her father passed.”

  “Oh. Well, that makes it even more special then.”

  Ryan leaned forward. “Yeah, and she doesn’t even like him.”

  Matt grinned as he handed over his credit card. “What’s not to like?”

  Irene shook her head. “The girl’s crazy if you ask me.”

  Maryann waved on her way out. “Thanks guys, I’ve never had so much spontaneous fun on a trip to the mall.”

  “You bet.” Matt slapped his hand on Ryan’s shoulder and headed for the door. “We couldn’t have done it without you.”

  Ryan darted behind a rack of dresses. “Hide! It’s Mom.”

  Matt dashed alongside Ryan and pretended to look at the hem of a dress. “Can you see her?”

  Ryan peered through a gap between two dresses. “Yeah, she’s looking in the window.”

  “Jeez. I hope she doesn’t come in here.”

  “Oh no, Amanda!”

  “She’s there too?”

  “Yeah, she’s showing Mom what’s in her bag.”

  Matt put down the hem of one dress and reached for another. “Great.”

  “Hey, they’re walking away.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah, they’re heading into Penney’s.”

  Matt peeked around the gowns. “Whew, close one.”

  They waited behind the rack for a few minutes. “Let’s get out of here before we bump into them again.”

  Back at the house, by the time Rebecca and Amanda pulled up in her Subaru, Ryan and Matt were outside in the cold, running plays, stained with grass, the gown safely stowed at Matt’s condo.

  ***

  After the Thanksgiving weekend, Rebecca was inundated with phone calls from people wanting to buy a champion Chihuahua, inquiring about training classes, Bruno’s stud services, and her grooming services. She knew winning on national TV would help her business, but the frenzy of attention was far more than she expected. She had two litters of puppies on the way but there was no way she would be able to keep up with demand. She started a list of potential buyers and how long they would be willing to wait for Bruno’s offspring. Someone had even offered an obscene amount of money for Bruno himself.

  As if I’d ever sell my beloved stud!

  Rebecca’s phone wouldn’t stop ringing. Everyone wanted a winner’s puppy, or to have their dog shown by a winning kennel. She was going to need an assistant if this pace kept up.

  By the end of the week she had more client dogs than she had ever handled and there would be enough income to pay Amanda part-time. Generally, Rebecca never took on more than four client dogs and now she had twice that. Thank heavens Amanda seemed eager to help now that her junior showmanship days were over.

  Rebecca agreed to let Matt pick her up for Ryan’s last football game of the season and his first game after the accident. They huddled under a woolen blanket sipping from a thermos of hot chocolate and cheered for the Renegades as they faced Cherokee High School’s Chiefs.

  Due to his injury, Ryan wasn’t allowed to start. Late in the third quarter Coach sent him in and Rebecca squeezed Matt’s hand—excited but nervous. Another injury would be a huge setback and Shawnee had yet to put points on the board against Cherokee’s twenty-one.

  Matt gave her a reassuring grin. “He’s ready and Coach knows it.”

  The blanket slipped from their shoulders as she moved to the edge of the bleacher. She held her breath as the ball snapped. The quarterback faded back for a pass. It flew over Ryan’s head, crashing into the ground ten yards past him. “Darn it.”

  Matt readjusted the blanket over her shoulders. “It was a lousy throw.”

  She nodded, tugging the blanket taut against the freezing cold. “Thanks.”

  The line of scrimmage was so close to their seats, they could hear the quarterback’s call. “Ninety-two, ninety-two, hut, hut.” He faked a hand-off and rolled left—a new move—Rebecca remembered the quarterback always rolled right after the fake.

  Matt leaned forward. “Looks like they’re going to use my bomb play.”

  The blanket fell again as Rebecca jumped to her feet.

  A bomb?

  Ryan flew down the field, his defender all over him. Ryan pushed himself, gaining speed, the defender dropped a pace behind. The quarterback released the ball just as a linebacker pummeled him into the turf. Ryan glanced over his shoulder, opened his arms and drew the “bomb” into his chest.

  “Run, run, run!” Matt roared slamming his fist in the air.

  “Touchdown!” Rebecca threw her arms around Matt, jumping with unbridled excitement, hot chocolate slinging across the stands as Rebecca forgot the open thermos in her hand.

  Unfortunately, the Renegades lost and a sullen Ryan quietly rode home in the backseat of Matt’s Lexus. Rebecca shook her head. “How can you be so down? Shawnee wouldn’t have even scored if it weren’t for you.”

  “I asked Coach to put me in sooner.”

  Matt glanced in the rearview mirror. “I wouldn’t let it get to you Ryan. You were only out there for part of the second half.”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Tell you what. You want to stick it to Cherokee’s football team next year?”

  The boy’s face lit up a bit. “Uh huh.”

  “Then you gotta work on your speed. If you go out for track in the fall, you’ll stay in shape and you’ll develop faster than you could imagine. No one on their defensive team will be able to catch you.”

  A smirk crossed Ryan’s face. “I like it.” He nodded. “I’m gonna kick some butt next year.”

  Matt winked. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Monica leafed through a Cosmopolitan as she reclined in her first-class seat during the flight to New York. Her assistant set up meetings with New York buyers and she actually looked forward to the possibilities of her new business venture. Though her motives initially were to get to the east coast so she could see Matt, the excitement of finding buyers interested in her lingerie line gave her added motivation.

  Monica started her business out of boredom, similar to so many ventures in her life. She went to college for the social life. The daughter of a wealthy movie producer, she had a comfortable trust fund which made her financially set for life. Her father had ensured her lingerie was sold in the finest dress shops on Rodeo Drive and that had been satisfying part-time work for her. She prided herself in the quality of her garments and insisted they be manufactured in Los Angeles. She firmly believed her merchandise must sport the Made in USA label and she didn’t care how much more expensive the labor was.

  Her father had helped her gain the contacts in the garment district but she worked through her assistant to set up the meetings. The return e-mails raved about her designs. Deep down that astonished Monica. She knew her success in California was due to Daddy’s connections and th
at gave her a feeling of inferiority, though she projected the exact opposite. She played the role of supercilious heiress as if she were royalty.

  This foray into New York might be her opportunity to show the world she could actually be successful without Daddy. Dressed in a smart red suit with ivory lace under, outwardly she looked the part of the self-assured business woman, at least a business woman who designed beautiful lingerie.

  She slipped her magazine into the seat pocket and pulled a portfolio out of her briefcase. She would be showing her lace lingerie that emphasized the sensuality and femininity of the female form through the unsparing use of expensive lace. Most items manufactured in red, ivory and black.

  Monica sat next to a dark-haired gentleman in an Armani suit who took an interest in her reading material. “That looks like high quality underwear. Where can you get that stuff?”

  Monica beamed, always pleased with a compliment. “You’re right about the quality, but it’s lingerie and presently only available on Rodeo Drive. I’m looking to expand my business in New York.”

  “Your business? Are those your designs?” he asked with renewed interest.

  “Yes, they are. I call this line wrapped in lace.” Monica flipped through the pages showing revealing corsets, breasts barely covered by ivory lace, and thongs sporting sexy, round bottoms.

  “Ahem.” The man leaned in closer, so she could distinctly smell his cologne. The aroma was provocative and erotic at once. Could it be CK One? Monica loved the clean, refreshing fragrance and had given it to all of her long term beaus.

  “Very nice,” he said.

  Monica chuckled, loving the attention. “Do you have someone at home you’d like to see wearing my designs?”

  He sat back with a jolt and shrugged. “Uh, no.”

  She folded up the portfolio and slipped it back into her red leather briefcase. “That’s too bad. Every woman should be spoiled with lace.”

  “I’m not sure every woman would fit into those things.”

  “Hmm. They do come in all sizes.” There was a pause in conversation, and the stewardess offered a beverage. “I’d like a glass of champagne. Do you have something decent?”

  The flight attendant held up a bottle of sparkling wine. Monica rolled her eyes, heaving a sigh. “Just give me a Chivas on ice.”