by Heidi Lang
“I-I’m sorry. The towel, maybe the dye from the towel is—”
The man didn’t let Monique finish. He just grabbed his dogs away from her and marched off.
“He’s an eccentric, that one,” Wes said, suddenly next to Jessie. She jumped, almost falling over. “Sorry, kiddo, didn’t mean to scare you. Good work, eh?”
“H-how did he know to come here?”
Wes looked innocently at his fingernails. “Someone may have left him an anonymous message that his dogs were in trouble.” He dropped the act. “Luke and Leia are show dogs, or they used to be when they were younger. He takes their grooming extremely seriously.” He started walking and Jessie hurried to fall into step beside him. She wanted to be as far from the scene of the crime as she could be. Even though the yelling hadn’t been directed at her, she could feel the man’s anger like it was burrowing into her skin.
“Your turn, kiddo. What’s our next Operation?”
Jessie shrugged. That little ball of guilt deep inside her was beginning to unfold.
Wes stopped suddenly and looked at her, really looked at her. “Did you want to take a break?”
She nodded.
His grin faded. “All right, kid. We gave her a tough week. We can ease up for a bit and see what happens.”
“Thank you.” Jessie dug around in her pocket and pulled out Monique’s key. “For safekeeping,” she said, handing it to Wes. She didn’t want to carry it anymore. It felt like it was burning her.
CHAPTER 24
“Showered, presentable, and present,” Jessie recited. “Check, check, and check.”
“Are you sure about that shirt?” Ann asked.
“Yes, I’m sure. Quit bugging me.” Jessie tugged at her navy blue college basketball team T-shirt. It was one of her favorites, even if it wasn’t soccer.
“No time to change it now; they should be here any minute,” Aunt Beatrice said, setting a platter in the middle of the table.
“Why would I change it?”
“Change what?” Uncle David asked as he wandered into the kitchen. “Don’t ever change a thing, Jessie.”
“Don’t worry, Dad. Jessie never changes.” Ann shook her head and finished setting the silverware on the table.
“What’s gotten into you?” Jessie whispered to her cousin.
Ann pursed her lips but didn’t say anything.
Fine, Jessie thought. Whatever. Ann had been acting a little nicer lately, but clearly she was back to Ann-Marie again.
The doorbell rang.
“Coming,” Aunt Beatrice trilled. Jessie’s stomach did a flip-flop. She felt like she was on top of a roller coaster, about to plummet down, only the tracks were missing. She didn’t want to sit with Monique. She didn’t want to play nice and eat dinner with the woman who was stealing her dogs.
And then she looked up, and her eyes met Max’s as he walked into the kitchen. He didn’t even seem like the same Max, in his button-down plaid shirt and khaki shorts and missing his trademark hat. He looked away from her quickly, and her face heated. Was he . . . was he mad at her? Was she mad at him? Her stomach was so full of conflicting emotions, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to eat. Luckily it was meatloaf today, so that would be no big loss.
“It smells wonderful, Bea. Thanks for having us.” Monique smiled warmly. “And I see we have the elusive Jessie here.”
“H-hi.” Jessie swallowed. If looking at Max was hard, looking at Monique was like trying to stare at the sun, a sun you’d been actively sabotaging the whole week. She could feel the guilt blazing across her face like a neon sign.
“Well now, isn’t this nice?” Aunt Beatrice beamed. “Go ahead and sit. I made meatloaf.”
“Aren’t we lucky,” Jessie muttered under her breath. Max heard her, his lips quirking up, but he still didn’t look at her as he took a seat next to his mother.
Ann tried to nudge Jessie over to the seat next to Max, but Jessie ignored her, and finally her cousin sighed loudly and took that chair instead.
“You’re being stupid,” Ann whispered.
“So’s your face,” Jessie whispered back.
Ann rolled her eyes and muttered something about “childish” and “missed opportunities.” Definitely back to Ann-Marie.
There was a lot of polite small talk at the table that Jessie easily ignored as she poked at her food, conscious the whole time of Max, of where he was sitting, of how he was eating. Even though she didn’t look at him, not once. OK, maybe once. Or twice, but very briefly. And even though he didn’t say anything, she was very aware of his silence. What was wrong with her?
Even worse, the whole time she kept waiting for Monique to mention dogs or Wes. As the conversation droned on and on and it didn’t happen, Jessie imagined herself as a spring being tightened and tightened, until her insides were so twisted she wasn’t sure if it was anxiety or the taste of meatloaf that was making her nauseous.
But, of course, Ann couldn’t let sleeping dogs lie. “Is it true your sister walks dogs for Bianca?” she burst out.
“Ann-Marie, I told you not to pester her about that,” Aunt Bea said quickly, but Jessie noticed how she leaned forward eagerly, like she was dying to hear more about this, too. Why was everyone so interested in this Bianca person? All she did was sing. Jessie didn’t get it.
“Oh yes. Grace is a ‘celebrity dog walker.’” Monique made those annoying air quotes next to her head. “She’s the one who convinced me to get into the dog-walking biz.”
“It’s probably not as glamorous here as it is in Hollywood,” Aunt Beatrice said.
Monique winced. Was she thinking about the ripped poop bags? The bacon juice on her leashes? Jessie couldn’t bear to watch, so she poked at her food as talk of celebrities and Hollywood washed over her, leaving her safely untouched.
“You know, Jessie’s been getting into the dog-walking business, too,” Uncle David said.
Jessie froze, her fork stuck in her half-eaten meatloaf. She’d really been hoping that wouldn’t come up.
“Is that so?” Monique’s voice was surprised, but her eyes were not. They had the same kind of look in them that Jessie had seen in her dad’s eyes when he was about to haggle for something he wanted.
“Yeah, she’s been working with ole Wes down the street,” Uncle David blabbed. “Isn’t that right, Jessie?”
Jessie yanked her fork out of her meatloaf. There was no way she’d be able to eat it now. Not with Monique staring at her like that. Stop looking at me, please, Jessie thought at her. Just leave me alone. She suddenly felt the strangest urge to confess all her crimes. Yes, I cut holes in your doggie bags. I put fish in your car. It was me! She had to clamp her lips closed to keep those words squashed down inside. She pictured herself as a garbage disposal, smashing all her lies and guilt and sabotage down and down and down.
“Jessie, you want to tell Monique about dog walking?” Aunt Beatrice chimed in. “You could compare notes.”
That was the last thing Jessie wanted to do. She thought of her dad again and tried one of his expressions instead. “Let’s talk about something else. I don’t like to mix business with pleasure.”
Monique’s eyes widened, and this time the surprise in them was genuine. She burst out laughing.
“Jessie,” Aunt Bea began warningly, but Monique waved her off.
“It’s fine, Bea,” Monique said, launching into another story about her sister’s Hollywood life.
Jessie relaxed. Still, she caught Monique glancing at her throughout the rest of the meal and knew it wasn’t over yet.
After dinner, Aunt Beatrice made Jessie and Ann clear the table and start on the dishes while she headed out to the porch with Monique. “Max can help, too,” Monique said, giving her son a meaningful look.
“Nonsense. He’s a guest,” Aunt Beatrice protested.
“I’m a guest, too,” Jessie said, but at her aunt’s dark look, she shut her mouth and grabbed a stack of plates. Max followed her, his hands full of silverwa
re.
“I just remembered, I have to be somewhere else,” Ann said, leaving Jessie alone in the kitchen with Max.
Jessie shifted uncomfortably, stepping way to the side so Max would have plenty of room to dump the silverware in the sink. “You really don’t have to help,” she said as he turned on the water. “Honest.”
Max shrugged. “Might as well be useful.” He glanced sideways at her. “Why are you being so weird?”
“Me? I’m being the normal amount of weird. Why are you being so weird?”
“The normal amount of weird?” He grinned. “I didn’t realize there was such a thing.”
“It’s carefully calibrated.” She inched a little closer and picked up the sponge.
“No dishwasher?”
“You’re looking at her.” Jessie scrubbed half-heartedly at a plate. Meatloaf was the worst to clean off. It looked a little too much like the piles she was stuck cleaning up for Wes.
That made her think of Monique and the ripped bags, and she flushed.
“Seriously, though, you OK?” Max asked.
“Never better.” She half-turned from him.
“If that’s the face of never better, then we’re all in trouble.” He turned the hot water on top of his pile of silverware and then liberally squirted soap over all of them. “I notice you haven’t been back to the park to play soccer in a while.”
“I haven’t really had time.” Last time she’d played Max, Loralee had come by and thrown her little fit, and Max had been quick to ditch Jessie. She wasn’t about to put herself through that again.
“Well, maybe once we’re done here, we should do something fun.” Again with the sideways look. It seemed out of place on him, like a dog walking upright. “Like . . . we could go for ice cream?”
“Tonight?” Jessie asked.
“Sure, why not? My mom would drive us. She suggested it, actually.”
“She did?”
“She thought you might like to . . . to get away a little, after dinner.”
“Oh.” Jessie didn’t know what to think of that. “Wouldn’t . . . wouldn’t that make Loralee angry? I mean, she didn’t even like you playing soccer with me.”
Max frowned. “I’m not always glued to her side, OK? I’m free to eat ice cream with anyone I want.”
“Max! You ready?” Monique called from the front of the house.
Max shut off the water and looked at Jessie. “You coming?”
“You call that done?” Jessie picked up a fork. It still had food stuck to it. Gross.
He shrugged. “Done enough.”
“That was the worst washing job I’ve ever seen.”
“You want to stay here and rewash the dishes or go eat ice cream?”
Moments later, Jessie was out the door, following Max and his mother. “You sure you don’t want to go?” she asked Ann.
“I’m sure. You go and have fun with Max.” Ann gave Jessie a sly smile, which vanished when Jessie told her the dishes weren’t done yet.
“Kids in back,” Monique said, sounding a tiny bit like Wes.
Jessie got into the back seat next to Max and pulled on her seat belt. Monique started the car and the doors automatically locked.
Jessie’s mouth went dry. She’d just gotten into a car . . . with the enemy. She was trapped, right here at the scene of so many of her crimes. What had she been thinking? How could she let the promise of ice cream with Max take over her better judgment?
Jessie’s stomach twisted, and not just because of the faint smell of rotting fish. She could feel Monique watching her in the rearview mirror. She could feel it, and she was powerless to stop whatever was coming.
CHAPTER 25
At first Monique didn’t say anything at all. She just drove, like she was a normal mom taking kids to get ice cream, and not like a merciless dog stealer who’d caught herself an enemy spy. Jessie wasn’t fooled, though, and she desperately tried to remember the Rules of the Ruff, hoping one of them could help her.
Calm, confident energy . . . impossible right now. OK, be aware of your surroundings. Jessie glanced around as they headed down the street. She could do that. Know when to leave it. Well, she still thought that rule was useless, and it certainly didn’t help her here. Always be ready. She swallowed, not sure what she’d be ready for. A surprise attack? Monique torturing her for information? And finally, be patient.
Patient.
Jessie took a deep breath, let it out slowly. She would wait, then. Wait and see what Monique was up to.
“You doing OK there, Jessie?” Monique glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “The dog fur isn’t bothering you, is it?”
“No, I’m used to it.” Whoops! Jessie clamped her mouth shut before any more information could slip out. The last thing she wanted was to talk about her familiarity with all things dog.
Monique’s laugh was warm and rich. “I guess you would be, after working with Wes.” Another look in the mirror.
Jessie gulped. The air felt charged now, like a thunderstorm was brewing. Here it was.
“Beatrice mentioned you might be getting a dog at the end of the summer?” Monique said.
Jessie blinked. That was not the question she’d been expecting. “I-I hope so.”
“You know I wanted a dog when I was younger, too.”
Max groaned. “Mom, please, not the dog story again.”
“My mom promised me and my sister we could get a dog,” Monique continued, ignoring her son, “but we’d have to be responsible for everything. It was a lot more work than I thought it would be. I couldn’t hang out with my friends after school if it was my turn to take Sadie out. Or this one time, I saved up for months to go on a trip to New York, but then Sadie ate a sock and needed surgery. So, trip canceled.” Monique’s laugh was pained, as if this long-ago trip that never happened still bothered her. “Nowadays, I like borrowing dogs much better than having one around all the time.”
Jessie felt the first faint squiggles of unease in her stomach. She had soccer practices later this year. Would a dog get in the way of that? Which would she choose? The dog, definitely. Right? But what if her dog got sick, too? Could her dad afford the vet bills? Monique stared at her through the rearview mirror like she was waiting for an answer, so Jessie said, “I know that dogs are a lot of responsibility.”
“You’ll probably be just fine, then,” Monique said. “You seem very responsible; I’ve seen you out working with Wes. Looks like he’s got you working hard.”
“He tries.” Jessie fiddled with the edge of her T-shirt. Next to her, Max turned so he was pointedly looking out the window, as if he wanted nothing to do with this conversation. Jessie wished she could do the same.
“So . . . how’s business?” Monique pulled up to the ice-cream parlor. “You know, for Wes?”
Jessie stiffened. Of course, this was what Monique wanted to know. “Good. Business is good.”
Monique’s eyes widened. “I didn’t mean to pry—”
Jessie yanked open her door, grateful the parlor was so close. “Thanks for the ride,” she said, firm but polite. Her dad would have been proud.
Monique nodded. “You’re . . . you’re welcome.” Max opened his door and started to get out. “Max, wait. A word, please?”
He grimaced and shut his door. Jessie got out and closed her door, then leaned her back against it. The sun was just sinking below the horizon, leaving behind streaks of fire. It still felt warm, too, the heat of the day radiating around her, then slowly draining away into the chill of night. She closed her eyes and enjoyed it. She’d survived. Her first interrogation, and she’d made it through. And now, now she was getting ice cream . . . with Max. Almost like a date. Her treacherous heart leapt like an unleashed dog, even though she knew it wasn’t a date at all. He was still with Loralee.
The door next to her opened and Max practically sprang out. “No need to wait, we’ll walk back,” he told his mother, then slammed the door. “Let’s go.” Without waiting to see
if Jessie would follow, he stalked toward the parlor.
Jessie frowned, not sure at this sudden change. Was it something she’d done? Maybe he didn’t want to be here with her? She slowly headed into the Ice Cream Scream. The air-conditioning slammed into her, but it did nothing to cool the heat rising in her face. Even the ghost mascot didn’t make her smile.
Max waited by the counter, his shoulders tense. He glanced at Jessie, then away again. “So. What kind you want?”
“What’s it to you?”
“What’s it—wha?” He scrunched up his face. “I . . . don’t understand.”
“Well, you seem angry, so I figured we were fighting. I was just going along.”
He grinned suddenly, his sharp canines on full display. “You are such a weirdo. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome?” She wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or an insult, but just seeing him smile like that, with his dimples and the way his nose crinkled . . . she shook herself. What was wrong with her? She was being ridiculous. “Everything OK?” she asked.
“Yeah. My mom just wants me to do something, and I don’t want to. But it’s fine. Some might say ‘never better.’” His grin widened. “And for the record, this is a much better face for ‘never better.’” He pointed at his smile.
“That looks like a face for selling used cars.”
“Ouch.”
“Also chocolate.”
“What?”
“My ice-cream flavor. Chocolate. Unless there’s chocolate fudge brownie?”
“There most certainly is!” The teenager behind the counter sounded a little too enthusiastic, like he was very eager to get rid of it.
“Er . . . maybe just chocolate, after all,” Jessie mumbled.
“So, your own dog, huh? That’s your endgame?” Max asked. They had finished their ice cream a while ago and were taking their time walking back to Ann’s house.
Jessie felt relaxed and happy for the first time in days. It was dark out, but not full dark, the sky hanging on to tendrils of light. All up and down the road, streetlights filled the rest of the night with little pockets of brightness, and she was walking next to Max with no Loralee in sight. Not a bad way to end a Friday.