by Rice, Debby
Lucille sighed. She picked me up and held me close to her face so that our noses touched, and whispered, “I will be the best me I can be.” There were tears in her eyes. Then she said, “I love you, Sugar.”
“What did you say, Lucille?” said Charmaine. “I told you not to dangle Sugar like that. It’s bad for her back. The mini Chi has a very delicate spine.” She detached the pencil from her hair and let it fall around her face, our signal that Business Charmaine might be about to morph into another mode.
“I’m sorry, Charmaine. You know I would never hurt Sugar. Can I get you some more tea?”
“No thanks. But could you come and hold the other end of the tape measure. I want to double-check the measurements for where we’re going to put the blackjack tables.”
Lucille held the tape measure while Charmaine directed her to the right, then to the left, then back to the right again with the intensity of an air-traffic controller bringing in a jumbo jet. Lucille acted as though nothing strange had just happened. Perhaps she had been in contact with Veronica for longer than I imagined.
I watched them, knowing that in some upside-down universe, Veronica was watching us. The task that Don Paco had set seemed impossible. How would I ever convince Veronica that death is not the end but a second chance? She would never have the opportunity to be a better mother to Lucille. And yet, who better to understand this harsh lesson than myself?
“Okay, Lucille, get the tape and put an X right here,” said Charmaine pointing to a spot on the floor.
“Here?”
“No, move back a few inches. That’s right. Now just fill that in on the diagram. Then you can close out these files so I don’t lose anything.”
I wondered whether Veronica was upset by Charmaine’s evil-stepmother behavior and what sort of retribution she might exact. Don Paco had warned that she would cause trouble.
“I need to drop the diagram by CJ’s house. And Larry said he has some stuff I should pick up. I want to take Sugar, but she has to stay in the car because CJ has a nasty boy dog. So you can come along and wait in the car to keep her company.”
“Okay, that’s great,” said Lucille. “I’m done with my homework. Would you like to read my report on Bulgaria?”
“Bulgaria? Why on earth are you writing about Bulgaria? Does anyone go there?”
“There are lots of terrific gymnasts from Bulgaria, and it’s a really interesting country.”
“Well, I’m sure it is. Now let’s get this wrapped up so that I can drop everything off to CJ.” Charmaine looked slightly exasperated, as though Bulgaria had thrown a wrench in her plans.
The two of them made their final notations on the graph paper and folded it. Lucille closed the computer files.
“Okay, we’re done here.” Charmaine put the diagram into a large leather briefcase. “Go get the coats, Lucille.”
Lucille returned dressed in a red wool coat with a black velvet collar, red rubber snow boots and black rabbit-fur earmuffs that made her look like Princess Leia. The fairy wings had been repositioned to the back of her coat. A large forest creature hung over her arm. It was Charmaine’s mink jacket with the opossum collar and cuffs. She handed Charmaine my knitted mink sweater, and Charmaine dressed me and snuggled me into my plastic case. “Here, Suggie baby,” she cooed, “something to keep you busy while we ride.” She dropped my Pupperoni chew toy and several Lucky Pup biscuits into the carrier. They landed on my head. Someone should make a helmet for small dogs.
“You might want to take those wings off, Lucille. They’ll get smashed in the car.”
“Oh, please let me keep them on. I promise to be very careful.”
“All right. But do you realize how silly you look? Didn’t you tell me you were a grown-up girl? Those wings are for babies, and they make you look like a baby. People will be looking at you and thinking BABY. Do you want that?”
Lucille hesitated. Then she slowly detached the fairy wings and laid them on the desk. She was taking Veronica’s advice not to upset Charmaine seriously. Charmaine flipped her cell phone open and dialed the garage to tell them to bring the Porsche down.
Chapter 13
“God generates beings and sends them back over and over again, till they return to Him.”
The Koran
“Right turn on Lake Street and proceed going west on Lake...” Charmaine had switched on the GPS. She listened to self-improvement CDs in the car, so bossy GPS woman and preachy self-fulfillment lady were competing for attention. I guessed she had never visited CJ. Otherwise, she would have known that the fur coat and the diamond that winked every time she turned the steering wheel might not be the best wardrobe choices for his neighborhood. But the red Porsche screamed “rob me” even louder, so what she was wearing was not really important. I was in the front passenger seat, hunkered down in the carrier. Lucille rode in the back. The idea of coming within Viagra’s scent radius was terrifying. Dogs savor the memory of a sexy smell like humans cherish a first kiss. Viagra would not have forgotten my olfactory attractions.
“Lucille, get out the map and look up 2610 West Lake Street. There must be something wrong with this GPS. This doesn’t look like it could be the right neighborhood. I hate it that I can’t trust this machine.”
I heard papers shuffling and Lucille unfolding the map. “No, this is right. We should be going west down Lake Street. Let’s see, we just passed 2600. Oh, there it is on the right. See the number above the door.”
Charmaine pulled up to the curb.
“Oh, my God. I can’t believe Larry sent me here. What was he thinking? Maybe we should just go home. I really don’t like the look of this, Suggie. But he told me it was very important to pick up the package today.” Charmaine reflexively checked her makeup in the rear view mirror. “Okay, Sugar, I can’t leave you in the car. Lucille, you’ll have to come in too. Wait till I tell them to put the dog away. Then, when I call you, get Sugar and come. After we’re inside, try to stand by a window so that you can watch the car while I talk to this CJ person.”
The car door closed. After several minutes, which hardly seemed long enough to make sure that the monster was caged, we heard Charmaine calling.
“Come on, Lucille.”
Lucille grabbed the carrier. Even if I could have disappeared, I knew that Viagra could smell me from a mile away. And, sure enough, as we approached the house there was wild barking and the sound of something being ripped to shreds. I imagined tsunamis of drool and jaws snapping blindly.
The door shut behind us, and Lucille put the carrier on the floor. I braced myself.
“Hi. What can I do for you?” I recognized Suzie’s Valley of the Dolls drawl.
“Hi, I’m Charmaine. I’m dropping off the diagram for the gaming tables, and Larry Finkelstein wanted me to pick up a package. Listen, is that dog locked up? Are you sure he can’t get out? I’ve got a very expensive pet here.”
“Oh, don’t worry. He’s in the strong room. It’s got a steel door. What kind of pet is it? I love animals.”
“It’s a mini Chi. Have you heard of them? It’s a very rare breed.”
“No kidding! My mom had one of the only ones in the city. It got stolen. She was crazy about it. Let’s see yours!”
I could not believe Charmaine would risk taking me out of the carrier, but she couldn’t resist showing off.
“Don’t worry, Suggie, you’re safe. The nasty dog is locked away,” she whispered into my fur. She picked me up and squeezed me to her chest. The barking turned to an ear-splitting howl.
Suzie was shockingly transformed. She looked like an African fertility statue. Her watermelon-size pregnant belly and ballooning breasts were prominently displayed in spandex. Suzie’s compulsion to be noticed had taken another mesmerizing twist. She had dyed her bangs Day-Glo green and sculpted them into a fat Dairy Queen curl that sat like an unfinished question mark in the center of her forehead. This hairstyle was like a piece of spinach stuck on someone’s front tooth. You’re damned i
f you notice and damned if you don’t. Charmaine’s eyes were popping, but she seemed to have decided to ignore the elephant in the room.
“That looks exactly like my mom’s dog. It even has the same name. Where did you get it?” Suzie’s gaze ran from my head to my tail like she was trying to locate the Lucky Dream brand.
“We got Sugar from a breeder in Indiana,” Charmaine lied. “You may not know this, but the mini Chi has a very small gene pool, and there’s a strong resemblance from one litter to the next. In fact, the puppies are just like identical twins.”
I was amazed by Charmaine’s creativity. I didn’t think this factoid was in Wikipedia.
“Listen, we’re in kind of a hurry here.” Charmaine stuffed me inside her sweater so just my head was sticking out.
I was glad to be tucked in beside her. Viagra’s psychotic barking was the soundtrack to a horror show. CJ’s living room was a circle in Hell that could not have been imagined even by Dante. If the devil exists, he probably hangs out with CJ and his dogfighting friends. Enormous sacks of dog food lined the wall like sandbags. Machines that appeared to be an amalgamation of gym equipment, medical devices and instruments of torture dominated the room. Hanging from hooks were metal chains that ended in leather collars—fixtures that looked like they belonged in a meat market. A basket on the dining-room table was filled with adhesive tape, gauze pads, scissors and a bunch of orange pharmacy containers. Several poster-sized photographs of massive dogs with the nicks, dents, welts, skewed features and oddly protruding bones of has-been prizefighters ensured that there was no mistaking the sleazy purpose for this paraphernalia. The stench of fear and wet dog made the room feel small and choked.
“I just can’t get over how much that looks like my mom’s dog. She’s still grieving for that dog, you know, and my dad will never be able to afford to buy her another one. Whoever stole it should have their fingernails torn out one-by-one. It was a really mean thing to do,” said Suzie, staring at Charmaine’s hands.
“Well, I certainly know how much I love my little dog. So I feel for your mom.” Charmaine’s voice had the fake sweetness of a Diet Coke. She made a point of pushing up her sleeve and looking at her watch. “Now, we really do have to get going.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to stick around and have a cup of coffee? CJ will be back in five minutes. He just went out for a six-pack. He wanted to talk with you about the setup for the poker tables, and I want him to see that dog of yours.”
“Oh, no thanks. I have to get this little one to her tumbling class,” Charmaine said with a nod in Lucille’s direction. There was the same nervous pitch in her voice that happened when Larry was angry with her. “Oh, here’s the diagram I made.” Charmaine snapped open the briefcase and handed Suzie several sheets of graph paper, which were wrapped around a stack of hundred-dollar bills.
“Okay, I’ll get your package. Back in a flash.” Just as Suzie disappeared down a dark hall, the front door slammed shut.
CJ tripped over a pair of boots and stumbled into the room.
“Suzie, don’t go leaving your stuff all over. I almost fell on my ass. Oh, sorry, ladies. I didn’t know we had visitors. You must be Charmaine. Larry mentioned you’d be coming by. Nice to meet you.” CJ extended a grimy hand.
“Nice to meet you too. I was just telling Suzie that we’re in quite a hurry. I left the diagram with her.”
“Hey, that looks like Suzie’s mom’s dog. Viagra almost chewed that li’l bit up. Lucky for her she’s so small. He couldn’t find her. I heard she got stolen. What’s she doing with you?”
“Oh, this is not the same dog. As I was telling Suzie, all the dogs in this breed look exactly alike.” I could feel Charmaine shaking.
“Is that so?” said CJ, his eyebrows raised in mock surprise. He put his face down next to mine, so he was breathing into Charmaine’s chest. She stepped back so quickly she almost fell, and CJ stepped forward again. His mouth was smiling, but his eyes were hard.
“Doesn’t that look just like Mom’s dog?” said Suzie as she came back into the room carrying a package wrapped in brown paper.
“Sure does, and I know my dogs,” said CJ, patting Suzie on the butt.
Charmaine snatched the package from Suzie’s hands. “Button your coat up, Lucille. We are so late for your class.”
“But I don’t have…”
“Lucille, button up.”
“Drive carefully! You wouldn’t want any cops stopping you with that package.” CJ winked at Charmaine.
Charmaine stuffed me into the carrier, motioned to Lucille, and we made our exit.
As we walked out the door, CJ said, loud enough so we were sure to hear, “I don’t know how that fuck Larry Finkelstein got your mom’s dog. But we’re gonna get it back. Thinks he’s better than us guys who still work the street.”
“Oh, my God. Oh, my God, I can’t believe this!” The carrier lurched as Charmaine ran to the car. “Hurry up, Lucille, and get in here.” Charmaine gunned the Porsche, and we peeled away at 50 miles an hour, skidding dangerously from one side of the icy street to the other.
“Don’t worry, Suggie, I will never let that awful man near you again. I just can’t believe Larry would do that to us. What could he be thinking? You are not a stolen dog. No, you are not. And even if you were, I’m sure CJ’s mother-in-law does not deserve such a lovely pet. She is probably as repulsive as he is. I can’t even imagine what they might do to you. We got you from a breeder in Indiana, and that’s that. Right, Lucille?” Charmaine’s pronouncement was punctuated with the frantic staccato tapping of fingernails on the steering wheel.
“That’s right, Charmaine. We got Sugar from a breeder in Indiana,” Lucille enthusiastically repeated the affirmation. “She can’t go back to those people.”
I, too, hoped with all my heart that CJ was history. Although I felt sad to have been the one bright spot in Mrs. Lin’s dingy life of dirty clothes and disappointing children, I never wanted to see her again. I would rather be Charmaine’s purse buddy for the next 10 years than sleep in Mrs. Lin’s laundry basket for 10 minutes. I also had the dim and probably outrageous hope that, along with the other third-dimension personalities hanging out in Larry’s condo, was the ghost of my former self. And that someday I would find Cherry Paget again. She was like a lost friend, someone whose faded snapshot brought back a rush of memory so intense that it warped time. I thought of her with unbearable nostalgia. Lucille’s precarious situation and my longing for Richard were the only things that helped me forget how much I missed Cherry.
I asked myself whether things would have been different if my accident had not happened—whether I would have rescued Lucille. I imagined leaving Larry and taking her with me. The two of us living together in a little apartment. I’d sell real estate. She would go to school and do her gymnastics. We’d make popcorn and watch movies together. I would help her with homework. Richard would give me a second chance, and we would all be happy.
That fantasy was almost as absurd as my current predicament. I had been a selfish, misguided person, someone whose life was defined by bad choices. I had only just realized the level of denial involved in being Cherry Paget. Did I actually believe that Larry made millions of dollars snuffing cockroaches and rats? The answer is “of course not,” and neither did Charmaine. It was perfectly obvious that my friend, Miranda Harrison, was right. Larry was a slimeball crook. I just chose to see the mahogany veneer and ignore the crummy particleboard underneath.
I wondered what I could do for Lucille now. Making sense of Don Paco’s riddles was like trying to understand the Mad Hatter’s gibberish. The more I thought about them, the more confusing they became.
Charmaine slowed the car to legal speed once we were safely removed from dog fighting territory. I wished she would take me out of my child safety seat, aka dog carrier, so that I could see the trees and sky. I loved this city, and there were so many things I had taken for granted that I now missed. Looking people in the eye seeme
d unimaginable. When you are less than a foot tall, you become intimately acquainted with the ground. Most of my time was spent staring at dirt. In the condo, it was harmless bits of lint, dust and crumbs, but the sidewalk is littered with a million repulsive or dangerous objects—spit, glass, condoms, cigarette butts, rusted safety pins and, of course, the dog shit—form a treacherous mosaic on the concrete.
I consoled myself by remembering sights that used to make me happy. I thought about Richard’s smile or the color of his eyes. Or I pictured the panoramic view of the city skyline against the evening sky or the expanse of Lake Michigan on a foggy morning when the horizon merges with the clouds. I savored those memories like a candy you suck down to the last shard.
We pulled up to the curb.
“Good afternoon, Miss Charmaine and Miss Lucille, and is that Miss Sugar hiding her beautiful self in there? Three pretty ladies.” Darien, the doorman, rapped three times on the window of the dog carrier as he said this. Even through plastic, his crooked teeth gleamed inside his round black face.
“Would you like me to get that package for you, Miss Charmaine?”
“No thanks, Darien. I can manage; just give me a hand with Sugar.”
Darien chuckled as he unloaded me and carried me to the elevator.
“How you doing today, Miss Sugar? Everything awright for you?” I always made Darien smile. “Hey, Lucille, when you going to show me how you can walk on your hands?”
“Oh, I could show you now, Darien.”
“Not now, Lucille. We need to get Sugar upstairs. She’s had a long day.”
“Mr. Finkelstein just got home too.” Darien looked expectantly at Charmaine, waiting for her to smile.
“It’s about time,” Charmaine muttered under her breath.