by Philip Elrod
The voice replied, “Please wait for just a minute while I check.” After a few seconds, she returned to the phone. “Yes sir. It’s still available, and I’ll be glad to make your reservation. What time do you plan to arrive?”
“Monday, probably about noon. Just a minute and I’ll give you my credit card number.”
A few minutes later, with the reservation completed, Tom laughed out loud when he hung up the telephone.
“I’m sure Jim’s dog sitter neighbor and her sister will have a great weekend in the city. I just love arranging things for deserving people. And we just couldn’t have Jim Slater out of town this next week. Oh no, Jim must be available for his assignment later on in the coming week.”
****
On the short drive to his condo in Georgetown, Jim sighed philosophically. “Oh well, at least there is Henry’s to look forward to tonight.”
He parked his new Hyundai Sonata in his reserved space, grabbed his laptop, and ran up the steps to his condo. Before he could unlock the door, he heard angry, loud barking. Someone would be quite upset, and he would, most likely, have to pay the consequences. Mitch would be in a sulky mood for at least an hour. He opened the door and braced himself for the furious onslaught.
Mitch gave him an evil glare. She was a miniature Shih Tzu, gold and white with black tips on her ears. He had received the little dog as a gift from his girlfriend of the moment when he moved into the condo. It was supposedly a house-warming present. She, he could hardly remember her name, just knew that having a cute, little dog would be the perfect gift. Humph! He remembered thinking at the time, Why didn’t she just buy a toaster?
Jim had wondered at the time if she had wanted to punish him for some unknown romantic misstep.
The pet deposit had been enough to cause an ulcer. Worse still was Mitch. She looked angelic but beneath that countenance beat a heart as independent as anything he had ever seen. She asked for—no, she demanded—anything that she wanted through barks and growls and other strange doggie language sounds. If he didn’t comply, she would turn her back to him for at least an hour to show her utter disgust at his lack of understanding.
There was no sense in trying to train her to come when called. She was one stubborn little bitch when she wanted to show her displeasure. That was how she got her nickname, “Mitch the Bitch."
The girlfriend was long gone, but Jim would never forget the sly smile that she gave him while giving Mitch a last pat on the head. As she went out the door for the last time, she gave Jim a big smile. To him it said, “Revenge is sweet. Gotcha!”
He never did figure out what he had done to offend her enough to foist Mitch upon him. He often wondered how long it had taken her to find the dog with the “perfect personality." But, the tables had been turned. Jim and Mitch soon became perfect partners. They both breathed a silent “thank you” frequently to the fading memory of the young lady who had brought them together.
Very few of Jim’s friends could understand this unique bond. Mitch seemed to come first in his life (she had trained him well), and he spent an inordinate amount of time seeing to her comfort and well-being.
For example, she hated going to the groomer. There had been many bloody experiences for the poor person trying to make her look like a show dog. Her sweet little face hid a multitude of sharp teeth that she did not hesitate to use if it suited her, and it suited her to bite groomers. Jim, after considering the possibility of a lawsuit, eventually found, at great cost, a professional dog groomer who would come to his condo to do the deed. This arrangement proved to be marginally acceptable to Mitch, who only uttered a few growls during the process. She just didn’t want to lose her reputation as “the dog from hell."
She was, in her own way, a devoted companion who provided him with constant enjoyment and hilarious entertainment. Every evening, after dinner, she would curl up contentedly in his lap. She would ooze sweetness and almost purr like a cat, but not for long.
Mitch would invariably think of something more interesting to do. Then, she would hop down and race around the condo with one of her many toys, snarling and snapping as if she were bringing down a wild beast.
Jim would eventually take notice, and they would have a great game of chase. He would throw the toy. She would run to it and stand at attention beside it. Jim would trot over to her, pick up the toy and throw it again. That routine would be repeated over and over until Mitch was confident that Jim had gotten enough exercise for the day. At least that’s the way it seemed to him.
Jim was fortunate that he didn’t have to worry about Mitch while he was working. His next door neighbor, Marjorie, had volunteered to take her for walks during the day and make sure that she always had plenty of food and water. She was a widow and seemed rather lonely, so taking care of Mitch was a real pleasure for her.
The arrangement worked out perfectly for everyone. Mitch and Marjorie got along famously, much to Jim’s surprise. Soon he gave her a key to his condo. She guarded it as though it was the Hope Diamond.
Every day, she would take Mitch for a noontime walk around the neighborhood that they both thoroughly enjoyed, except if it rained or snowed. To her chagrin, Mitch would refuse to go out in anything except perfect weather.
Mitch hated wet pavement. She hated puddles. She hated cars that splashed rainwater up on the curb. The poor lady finally gave up and kept Mitch in her condo on rainy afternoons, and that was just fine with Mitch. She liked this lady. She was quite controllable and never, ever said “no” or “bad girl." Best of all, she was very generous with tasty treats.
But Jim’s biggest problem with Mitch was her jealousy of his dates. She had never met one of Jim’s dates that she liked. She would curl her lip in distaste and usually glared at the interloper. Nothing could make her friendly with even one of them. He sometimes had nightmares about the time that she slipped out of the room with a date’s Prada purse. The lady had shrieked uncontrollably when the shredded purse was finally found under his bed. Mitch, of course, sat wagging her tail with a look of pure innocence.
How much could a purse cost? He graciously offered to replace it. The romance ended abruptly when the offended owner presented him with the bill. Jim clutched his chest when he saw the amount. He wondered if this heart attack would prove fatal. He survived, after downing a stiff drink, but his bank account suffered severely for several months. This event resulted in an epiphany for him. Never date a girl who only shopped at exclusive boutiques and wore designer clothes. He just couldn’t afford it.
Following that harrowing experience, he always made sure to warn anyone who might visit him at his condo. He even considered placing an “Enter at your own risk” sign on the door.
After attempting to console Mitch with only modest success, Jim tossed his computer case on the coffee table and dropped his jacket on a chair. He grabbed her leash and took her for a quick walk around the block.
Returning to the condo, he freshened Mitch’s water and food bowls and placed his dinner in the microwave. The leftover lasagna from Bugatti’s Italian Grill would be just about as good as when he had first gotten it on Tuesday. That was one reason Jim loved Italian food. As a single guy, it was tough to cook for one, so he often ordered prepared food to go from one of the many good restaurants nearby.
Finishing the lasagna and his second Sam Adams lager, he began to clean the table. He picked up the empty beer bottle and then looked at the lasagna. What kind of swine would drink beer with lasagna? Surely, a nice red wine, maybe Chianti, would have been far more appropriate. He cleaned the table and flopped into his lounge chair to watch the local news and give the paper a quick scan. Then, he would be off to Henry’s, his favorite neighborhood bar.
****
Henry’s was located in a historic old brick building not too far from Jim’s condo. The place had been in business for about seventy-five years and had aged quite gracefully. There was rich, dark paneling and stained glass windows giving an air of relaxation. The dim lighting
and discreet wait staff made this a favorite haunt for politicians, young professional types, and even the occasional presidential aspirant. Indeed, this was just the place for discriminating patrons and those who desired a bit of privacy.
Jim found a seat at the end of the polished, wooden bar where he could sip his vodka martini and have an unobstructed view of the room. People-watching here was almost always interesting and sometimes quite amusing. He usually tried to discourage conversation politely and tonight was no exception. He just wanted to relax, enjoy the ambiance, and maybe hear a little local gossip.
He was a regular and knew the waitresses and bartenders by name. As he looked out across the room, filled with Friday evening laughter, he noticed that one of his favorite waitresses wasn’t working. She had been employed there for quite some time, but Jim was never surprised when someone moved on. The business just didn’t seem to breed any longevity in employment.
Then, he spotted the new waitress. There was something subtly different about her. Not odd, just different. She was rather tall with dark hair and eyes that constantly darted around the room as if she were in search of something. She watched everyone, not just her customers.
Jim continued to watch her with interest as she darted from table to table. In a far corner sat a very recognizable politician who was in deep conversation with a much younger, attractive blonde lady. The waitress edged closer and closer seemingly attempting to eavesdrop.
There was another interesting couple at a nearby table that had also caught Jim’s eye. An expensively dressed woman of indeterminate age sat with a well-dressed young man. He was obviously athletic with tousled hair that made Jim think of a California surfer.
Even in the dim light, Jim could tell that some plastic surgeon had fattened his bank account at the women’s expense. Pretty good work but she had visited him one time too many.
She wiggled her diamond-clad hand toward the new waitress to order another round of drinks. The new waitress quickly turned to acknowledge the request and Jim imagined a stealthy cat that had just spotted an unwary bird.
He got it! She must be working undercover for the USA Monitor magazine or some other gossip rag. She would probably be cited as a “confidential informant” in some tell-all cover story. And, as for those glasses she wore, they were probably some spy cam device like he had seen on TV. She would most likely be sending her surreptitiously acquired information to a monitor somewhere nearby, maybe in her car.
Jim smiled to himself since he was a regular at the tavern; he knew that the politician was probably just discussing his next political campaign with his manager whom Jim had recognized. As for the older lady with all the diamonds, she was the widow of a prominent D.C. psychiatrist. She was just enjoying an evening out with her son who was home from Harvard, where he attended medical school. Things are not always what they seem at first glance, not even in Washington D.C.
The young waitress quickly pulled a small pad from her pocket and made a quick notation with her pen. Jim knew that she wasn’t just documenting their cocktail order. He had decided to teach her a lesson. Ah, yes, he would use the trick that the old man had used to get his attention. He wrote, “I know who you are. I know why you are here, and I know what you are doing.” He folded the napkin and handed it to the bartender to deliver to the waitress.
The bartender placed the note discreetly in her hand and returned to the bar and began polishing glassware. She unfolded the note and read the contents. Her lips curved into what could be called a sneer, and he could see that she angrily muttered something under her breath. She lifted her head defiantly and looked around the room, obviously trying to determine the identity of the writer. Jim shivered. What had he done?
With her eyes glinting, she marched to the bartender who had delivered the note and made a furious gesture for him to follow her to the back room.
A few moments later, they emerged. The bartender looked chagrinned and went to the opposite end of the bar from Jim. At least there didn’t appear to be any fatal wounds. Oops. Now, she headed straight toward him looking as if she could end his very existence with one incendiary look.
“So," she hissed, “Who do you think you are? How in the hell can you possibly know who I am, much less what I am doing?”
Jim squirmed but didn’t reply. She continued her withering stare until he had to break the silence.
“I am Jim Slater and I have been watching you. I know that you are not just taking orders and serving drinks. You have the look of a spy. I think that you probably work for one of those trashy gossip magazines. I’ve seen your type before in this city, and I think that you should probably find some more respected line of work.”
With that, she appeared to relax a bit. “OK, you’ve got me. I have been checking out the customers. That’s why I took this job. It’s a perfect place for what I’m doing. I am a grad student at Georgetown working on my master’s in psychology.
“You’d be amazed at how much valuable Intel that I can gather just from watching and listening. If you want to study human nature and what makes important people tick, especially politicians, just go to a bar. Quite obviously, you would not be anyone of interest for my studies. Now that you have blown my cover I’ll probably have to find another job. I hope that you choke on that martini.”
Jim threw up his hands in mock surrender. “Please forgive me. I haven’t reported you to the manager. I was just sitting here by myself and noticed you. I noticed that you were quite attractive. That’s why I watched you instead of the other customers the way I usually do.”
She glared at him again, “Where did you come up with that pathetic line? You must think that I’m some half-wit to fall for it.”
A hint of a smile crossed her face, resulting in a much more pleasant look. Looking directly into Jim’s eyes, she said, “My name is Elaine, and maybe we should just start over. Right now, I have to get back to my customers. That guy over there just asked for his fifth bourbon, and I have to figure out how to tell him no without causing a stink.”
Jim countered, “How can you possibly get that guy out of here without any trouble? I’ve seen him in here before, and he’s a real whiner if he doesn’t get what he wants. The manager has been known to send him home in a cab on more than one occasion. I hope that there’s funding for that in the budget.”
Elaine looked him straight in the eye, “Wanna bet that I don’t get him to pay his bill and leave amicably? Just watch me!”
With that, she left. Jim noticed that she deftly opened the top button of her blouse as she headed for the customer. She bent toward him with a brilliant smile on her face and whispered in his ear.
The rather obese old guy laughed and leaned forward to get a better look. He seemed to be asking her some questions. She leaned forward again and whispered in his ear softly. He had completely forgotten that next drink. She quickly placed the bill on the table. Seemingly still mesmerized, he pulled out his wallet and handed her his credit card. She made sure to brush her hand against his as she took it. The old geezer had an ecstatic look on his face.
Jim was almost in hysterics. She took the credit card and made her way to the bartender who would complete the transaction. As she passed Jim, she winked and said, “Works every time. You lost the bet.”
“OK, OK. I quit. How about we go someplace else after your shift? I promise I will then pay up.”
With that brief encounter, Jim was set for the weekend. At least until Sunday. Sundays were for Mitch and himself. They both looked forward to their private time together.
Jim ended up having a very pleasant time with Elaine. They went to a late night restaurant when she got off work. She had quite a wicked sense of humor and kept him laughing with tales of her “research” at Henry’s. Saturday evening they went to an art house movie and then to her place where they binged on ice cream topped with dark rum. Crazy mix but it was good.
She had a cat named Snow because of its pure white coat. Naturally, the cat recognized t
he smell of a dog, specifically Mitch, and immediately crawled all over him leaving incredible amounts of white fur all over his clothes. That darned cat hair stuck to him like Velcro. Mitch would probably take this as a supreme insult. It was bad enough that he would leave her for one of those floozies. But a cat! That would surely get her dander riled. Introducing Elaine to Mitch would require some intense planning, subterfuge, and more than a little bribery.
On Sunday, Jim lounged around the condo with Mitch. She had his undivided attention as she had already taken great offense at his unacceptable absences over the last couple of days. He was sure that the little diva suspected another woman. She had an uncanny sense of what was going on around her and Jim was quite convinced that she could read his mind.
After lunch, hoping to appease her, Jim took Mitch for a walk through a nearby park. Mitch loved these walks and was usually perfectly behaved. In fact, strangers frequently stopped to tell him how adorable she was. That was true today until a rotund little woman wearing a bright pink jogging suit and red sneakers appeared on the scene.
It was most unfortunate. At the end of a leash held firmly in her chubby right hand was “the creature." A hairy little creature. An ugly little creature, at least to Mitch. A miniature poodle wearing a rhinestone studded collar. Oh my God! The poor thing had toenails painted to match the hideous collar! Mitch was appalled. How could a fellow canine submit to such indignity? It was an embarrassment to the species! She hurled herself at the little beast before Jim could restrain her. The little fat woman tripped over the leash and fell gracelessly to the ground. Thud! The poodle howled in terror and lost control of her little bladder causing a large wet stain on the fat lady’s pink pants. Things were not boding well for Jim.
Jim helped her to her feet offering profuse apologies. He hoped that he hadn’t sprained his back with the effort. She was furious. “Why can’t you control that horrid animal? It should not be in a public park. God knows, it probably even has fleas. I assume it is up to date for its rabies shot. I am going to report you. My son is a lawyer. I’ll make sure that you and that monster are banished from places where law-abiding citizens walk their innocent pets. My precious Francoise is probably scarred for life.”