Chihuahua Karma

by Rice, Debby

  A flute in each hand, the two-fisted drinker led us to a cocktail table, teetering on her stilettos and spilling droplets of champagne on my back.

  “Let’s sit here for a minute.” Charmaine set the glasses on a cocktail table. “My feet are killing me, and this dress is so tight it’s hard to breathe. Oh, my God. You’re wearing those ugly boots. Why?”

  “Not ugly. UGG. I guess I forgot to take them off.”

  “Well, they may be UGG, but they are ugly, and they look really strange with your dress. Jimmy, Manolo and even Miuccia Prada—who adores jolie laide—would rather die than design a shoe that looks like a sheep turned inside-out. Do you want to go change?”

  “I don’t think so. No one will notice if I’m standing up.”

  “Suit yourself. Look at this view. Isn’t it beautiful?” Charmaine stared wistfully out the window. “I’m going to be sorry to leave all this behind.” Her arm swept dramatically around the room. “But I’ve made a decision.” She picked me up and put me on her lap. “Sugar and I are leaving tomorrow. I just can’t stay here anymore. I’ve got a bag packed. We’re going to my parents in Texas, and then we’ll go to Disney World with them. That will be fun. I’ll have Larry ship the rest of my things. Unless, of course, something happens with Richard. Then I’ll need to have a Plan B.” Charmaine was talking to herself. Since she could hardly make a Plan A, I imagined that Plan B was unlikely.

  “Please, Charmaine, can’t I come?”

  “Lucille, we’ve been over that.”

  “But I don’t understand why you don’t want me. I won’t be any trouble. You’ve already seen how much I can help.”

  “My parents don’t like children.”

  “Not even you?” Lucille asked.

  “I’m not a child anymore,” said Charmaine, finishing off another glass of champagne. “Besides, you’re going to have a brand-new family of your very own. Zoya will watch out for you until they come to pick you up.”

  “Well, at least I’ll still have Sugar.”

  “Now, I just want to warn you, Sugar’s got to come with me.”

  “Whatever you say,” said Lucille. She took a sip of champagne and looked up at Charmaine with her best poker face. “I can take care of myself.”

  “Good, I’m glad we got that settled.”

  The party’s shine was tarnished by the casual way Charmaine dismissed Lucille. I felt the sting of her words as keenly as if she had said them to me. Lucille was irrelevant, like last year’s shoes. I thought of all the children who are chauffeured from one play-date to another in padded strollers or armored with tricycle helmets and knee guards, whose lips have never been tainted by a Ho Ho or a hot dog, and I considered the million horrendous accidents of fate that can sideswipe even those cosseted childhoods. I remembered my mother and her ridiculous and impractical dreams for me. Although I constantly doubted the wisdom of her vision, I never questioned its power.

  Lacking a parent’s watchful eye and optimistic heart, Lucille’s vulnerability seemed immense. My own future was also a toss-up, and no matter how the coin landed, it did not seem promising. Would I be watching “the game” while nibbling on pigs-in-blankets from Mom and Pop Ratzinger’s Naugahyde Laz-Z-Boy or huddled in a damp corner of the Lucky Dream’s basement with Lucille? I would do my best to stay with Lucille. But I had learned that the smaller you are, the fewer your choices.

  I gazed out at the city that held all of us helpless creatures in its glittering net, and even in the face of such incredible uncertainty, I was inspired by the hope and wonder of the season. I could almost believe that Don Paco was right and that my rebirth was shimmering, like a mirage, on the edge of possibility.

  “Happy holidays, ladies.” Richard’s smiling face looked down at me. He was holding a glass of champagne in each hand. “How about a toast to the season?” He handed Charmaine a drink that she didn’t need. The cold still hung on his clothes. His face was flushed, and there were ice crystals glistening in his hair.

  “Merry Christmas, Richard!” Charmaine was beaming. “I’m so glad you could make it in spite of the awful weather.” Her face had the eager look of a dog slavering over a bone.

  “Wouldn’t have missed it. I’m kind of a poker junky, and I love Vegas. You all look terrific. This is quite a party. Hey, Sugar, come on up and say ‘hi’ to your biggest fan.” Richard lifted me up and held me next to his heart. I snuggled into him. “Oh, what are these bracelets on your paws? I think they’re a little tight.”

  He slipped the anklets off and handed them to Charmaine. “She wasn’t looking very comfortable.”

  “Sugar’s lucky to have such a handsome guy watching out for her.” Charmaine winked at him.

  I couldn’t imagine what had caused her to try this silly come-on. Richard looked confused. His face reddened.

  “Would you like to sit down?”

  “Sorry about the jeans. I didn’t realize the party would be so elegant.”

  “You look fine,” said Charmaine.

  And he did. He was wearing a brown jacket the same chestnut color as his hair and eyes and a black wool turtleneck. He looked rugged but felt soft.

  “You know,” Richard said as he eased himself into a rickety folding chair that had been draped with a silver cover to hide its humble origins, “I thought when you gave me this address that it sounded familiar, and when I got here, I realized something strange. Your boyfriend, Larry, used to be married to a good friend of mine.”

  “Cherry was a friend of yours? What a coincidence.”

  My ears were on fire and my heart was racing.

  “Hey, Sugar, what’s the matter, girl? Why are you panting like that?” Richard scratched me between the ears. “Well, I hadn’t seen her in a long time when she died.”

  “Yes, that was sad.” Charmaine did not sound the least bit unhappy.

  “It was the worst thing that ever happened to me. I don’t think I’ll ever get over it. She was such a terrific person. She just lost her way and got into some problems with drugs. It shouldn’t have happened. She should have had a long, happy life. I’ll always miss her. I still can’t believe she’s gone. Every once in a while I think I see her on the street or in a restaurant. In fact, the other day…Oh, well. You know what that’s like?”

  “No, I really can’t imagine,” said Charmaine.

  “You never believe they’re really gone. You always hope there has been some terrible mistake. Anyway, sorry. I didn’t mean to mention it.”

  Richard’s words were like heavy stones. To cry would have been a relief. Instead, I licked his hand.

  “Here, I brought a treat for you, Sugar.” Richard reached into his pocket and pulled out a dog biscuit.

  “Well, I’m sorry for your loss. I never really knew her.” Charmaine’s voice was flat. She took a pull on her champagne and finished the glass. Since Richard’s loss was her gain, this conversation was more than uncomfortable. Me and my messy death were the last thing Charmaine wanted to discuss. “Lucille, why don’t you get us a couple of fresh drinks?” Her speech was beginning to slur.

  “I thought I might jump into that game going on over there,” said Richard, handing me back to Charmaine. He pointed in the direction of the table where Larry and CJ were playing.

  “You know, Larry plays at a professional level. I would think twice about joining that game.”

  “Why don’t you come over with me?”

  “I don’t play poker.”

  “Well, Sugar’s my lucky charm, so you’ve got to watch at least.”

  “Okay, here’s to luck.” Charmaine touched her glass to Richard’s. “Come on, Miss Lucky Charm. Let’s go watch Richard lose his shirt,” Charmaine whispered in my ear.

  Chapter 26

  “Souls are poured from one into another of different kinds of bodies of the world.”

  Jesus Christ in Gnostic Gospels: Pistis Sophia

  Larry was not laughing now. His face had shrunk into the cards. All his concentration was focus
ed on the two shiny pieces of plastic in front of him. He did not see us. Seated around the table were CJ, Mandy, Brandy and two other men. Mandy and Brandy were also absorbed in the game. Their Irish pixie features wore identical expressions of concentration. They were exact replicas down to the symmetry of their short black curls. Four limeade eyes fanned by licorice lashes, two wet mouths bright as maraschino cherries and four cheeks with marshmallow dimples created a scrumptious double vision. Larry’s “business associates” were finding it impossible to pay attention to their cards. They were mesmerized by the cream-puff cleavage served up on identical trays of green silk. Had someone intentionally stacked the deck? There was a large pile of chips in front of CJ and another in the center of the table, but the other players did not appear to be doing well.

  “Where’s Lucille with those drinks?” said Charmaine. She had torn her cocktail napkin into shreds, which were scattered about her on the floor like confetti after a parade.

  “Maybe she went to bed. It is a little late for her to be up,” said Richard.

  “I’m sure she’s around somewhere,” said Charmaine. “She probably went to change those ugly boots.”

  I was so distracted by Richard that I hadn’t notice that Lucille had disappeared. She never returned from the bar. Now I imagined her shivering on the corner waiting for her pudgy superhero with his load of chemically sanitized clothing to come rattling to the rescue, and I felt afraid. I considered the possibilities for escape, but there weren’t any viable options. Charmaine would never take me for a walk now. All the same, I had to try. I whimpered and scratched her arm with my paw, our signal.

  “What’s the matter, Suggie? You’re so nervous. Do you have to go pee pee? I’m not taking you out now. You can go on the newspaper. Could you get us s’more drinks?” said Charmaine.

  “Sure,” said Richard. “They just started this hand. But are you sure you want another drink? I could get you a Coke or some water?”

  “Of course I want a drink. It’s Christmas,” said Charmaine, rolling her eyes in mock frustration.

  “Okay, I’ll be right back. Are you still good with champagne?”

  “You know, I’d really like a martini with a whole bunch of blue cheese olives—maybe five. I’m pretty hungry. Who could possible eat that rubbery tofu?”

  “You got it,” said Richard.

  “He’s sooooo cute, isn’t he, Suggie? He could be on TV. He’s so much sexier than that Dog Whisperer,” said Charmaine, hugging herself. “I really like him. Do you think he likes me? Do you? Do you? Why’d he have to tell me about that damn Cherry? I can’t even imagine those two together.”

  Charmaine was holding me next to her lips so the others couldn’t hear. Her breath, ripe with stale champagne, made the fur around my neck soggy. I tried not to move, in order to avoid sending her any signals she would misinterpret. My body language was Charmaine’s I Ching, and it did not seem like a good idea to contribute to her agitation. In spite of all the champagne, she was popping out of her skin. Her fingers snapped as she wriggled her hips and shuffled her feet to the jazzy Christmas music, her attention darting between Larry and Richard’s explosive possibilities—the one a nasty device on a short fuse, the other Fourth of July fireworks.

  “Here you go. Salad in a glass,” said Richard, offering Charmaine a cocktail in which most of the vodka has been displaced by a stack of olives.

  “Oh, thanks so much. That looks terrific.” Charmaine put me in her lap and picked up the drink. She chugged the liquor and dipped her fingers into the glass, using her nails like tweezers to extract an olive. “Yuuummmy. These are delicious. Would you like one, Richard? Where’s your drink? You’re not going to let me drink alone, are you?”

  “No thanks, I try not to drink too much when I’m playing cards, and it looks like they’re just about finished with this hand. Say, would you like me to take Sugar for a quick walk before they get started?”

  I squirmed and pawed Charmaine’s arm.

  “Oh, she’s just faking because we’re not paying enough attention to her. Don’t worry about it.”

  There was a clatter as CJ, sporting a lopsided grin that slashed his face like a lightning bolt, gathered his winnings. He wouldn’t have been smiling if he had any idea how much Larry hated to lose.

  “This might be my last hand. I’m running out of cash,” said Mandy.

  “Me too. God, we won’t have money for the rent if we keep this up,” said Brandy. Then she tilted her perfect head back and laughed like a person who knows that the rent is her last care in the world.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll stake you both if you want to stay in the game.” Said CJ, who was sitting between them. He put a proprietary hand on each girl’s bare shoulder and tried to draw them closer. They giggled and backed away. He leaned in.

  At the adjacent table, Suzie froze, watching CJ and the girls. I saw her motion to a dealer across the room whose table was empty. He replaced her, and she moved quickly out of sight. I wondered what the police did to confiscated dogs. Would they train me to be a drug sniffer or put me in an auction with the cars and bicycles? I took my cue from Charmaine and decided that I was on emotional overload; a drug bust was more adversity than I could contemplate.

  “I think Mandy and Brandy might want to mingle with the guests.” Larry’s eyes were as hard and black as his lost chips.

  Brandy’s voice moved into the soprano register. “Absolutely not. We love poker. Hey look, there’s Charmaine. Hi Charmaine. It’s so great to see you.”

  “Great party. Thanks so much for inviting us,” echoed Mandy.

  They rose in unison and wrapped Charmaine in a fragrant four-armed embrace, leaving twin splotches of shiny red lipstick on both of her cheeks.

  “How have you been?” said Mandy. “We miss you so much at Barney’s. It’s just so boring in cosmetics without you. We never have fun anymore.”

  “That’s the cutest little dog I’ve ever seen. Can I hold her?” said Brandy.

  “She’s a mini Chi, and they have a very delicate spine. I really don’t let anyone else hold her,” said Charmaine.

  “Oh, they’re a tougher breed than you might think,” said Richard.

  “I don’t care. I’m not comfortable with anyone holding her who isn’t an experienced handler,” said Charmaine. She squeezed me so tightly, I choked. Brandy raised an eyebrow.

  “Girls, we’re gonna deal the next hand. Are you in?” said the man sitting next to Larry. He was wearing a synthetic toupee which had been pushed to the back of his head like a bonnet as a result of poker nerves. Patches of sweat were starting to bloom on his dark silk shirt.

  “We’re in. We’re definitely in,” said the girls.

  “Hi, I’m Richard Preston, a friend of Charmaine’s from Chi Rescue. I’d like to play.”

  “Sure, have a seat. The more the merrier,” said CJ, still grinning like a hyena. He was completely consumed with ill-advised glee at the tower of chips rising in front of him.

  “My friends here are Mandy, Brandy, Larry Finkelstein, your host, and Monte Cohen,” said CJ, indicating the guy wearing the hair hat. “That’s Monte’s brother, Lester,” he said pointing at the man with the toupee.

  Lester’s bald head was shiny with sweat. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and swabbed it off. Then he mopped his face.

  “Suggie, what’s the matter? Did you eat something off the floor? I hope you didn’t chew on one of those champagne corks,” said Charmaine.

  I was fixated on Lester. Something about him made me very uncomfortable. I whimpered and squirmed in Charmaine’s arms. He caught my gaze, and our eyes met. His droopy face looked ready to sprout fur. The sagging jowls were so basset-like that I expected him to bark. Instead, he extended a paw to Richard and said, “Great to meet you. Have a seat.”

  Did Lester represent the reverse of my accident? Was his sloping middle-aged body the unintentional prison for some hound’s lost soul? My heart stopped when I considered the possibility that
Lester might be my vessel. I tried to imagine being trapped in that drooping flesh. But the thought was so absurd and unfair that I wiped it from my consciousness.

  “We wisth you a merry Christmas. We wisth you a merry Christmas. We wisth you a merry Christmas and a happy New Year.”

  The party quieted. Larry and his guests looked toward the dance floor, where a spotlight illuminated the entertainment. As our trip to Macy’s had demonstrated, the suit does not make the Santa. This Santa, aka Mademoiselle Daphne, aka James Russell Williams, had her own unique interpretation of the role. Holding the microphone like a teacup with pinky extended, Daphne swayed to the bossa nova beat. The sequins on her red-mini dress shimmered. Her long legs, smooth as oil, ended in Doc Martin boots topped with rabbit fur. The heavy metal buckles jingled like sleigh bells when she moved. A luxurious white Santa beard reflected the spotlight, completely obscuring her face. In the gesture of a Voodoo priestess blessing her worshipers, Daphne’s arms reached out to caress the audience. As she shimmied, the fuzzy tassel of a 6-foot-long Santa hat swept the floor. Slung over her shoulder was a black velvet sack from which she extracted tiny packages wrapped in silver foil and tossed them to the audience.

  “What is that?” Something other than cards had finally captured Larry’s attention. He squeezed his eyes together as if squinting would make the tableau before him disappear.

  “That’s Daphne. Isn’t she spectacular?” said Brandon. He and Jared had been watching the card game.

  “I thought this party couldn’t get worse, but it just did. I need a drink before we play the next hand,” said Larry. He got up slowly from the table as if rising was painful and walked past Charmaine without a glance in her direction.

  “Open your goodie bag, Char,” said Brandon.