Boomer's Bucket List

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Boomer's Bucket List Page 16

by Sue Pethick


  Even if Jennifer was right, though, and Boomer had been cyanotic, by the time they got him back to the truck, he clearly was not. If he’d recovered that quickly, Nathan argued, then whatever the problem was, it couldn’t have been very serious. Furthermore, Boomer seemed to be suffering no lingering aftereffects. He was tired, sure, but that was to be expected after all the excitement he’d had. Nevertheless, there was no denying that the tour had not been the fun experience Nathan had promised, and the damage done to the factory’s toys had cost him almost a quarter of the money Rudy had loaned him, so calling it a disaster wasn’t much of a stretch.

  A spiderweb of lightning crackled across the sky, followed by a low roll of thunder that sounded like a warning from a dangerous dog. As the truck pulled into the motel parking lot, enormous drops of rain started hammering the windshield. Nathan jumped out and wrestled their luggage out of the back while Jennifer and Boomer ran inside.

  At the front desk, there were no coy looks, no intimate discussions about how many rooms they’d be needing. Jennifer gave her name to the clerk and handed over her credit card without consulting Nathan, then picked up her suitcase and headed off to her room with only the briefest of thanks. As she hurried down the hall with Boomer in tow, the dog gave him a sad, backward glance.

  The motel room was modest—a single queen bed, a nightstand, a wooden desk and chair—with pictures of livestock and Stetson-wearing cowboys on the walls. Nathan stepped inside and put his sodden duffel in the bath to dry, then grabbed a towel and started drying his face and hair. It was as if the heavens had opened up out there, he thought, the rain coming down in sheets. In the time it had taken him to haul the bags into the lobby, he’d been soaked to his skin. He stripped off his T-shirt, hung it over the shower rod, and kicked off his shoes.

  Why was Jennifer so mad at him? Nathan wondered. Did she really think that he’d suggested the toy factory so that Boomer could exhaust himself? He’d thought she was putting the paranoia aside and letting the poor dog have a good time. Instead, she’d started blaming him for Boomer’s poor health. Well, forget it. If that was the way things were going to be from now on, he was going to have to take a step back and rethink this whole relationship.

  Nathan was wiping down his backpack when his phone rang. He felt a jolt when he saw the caller ID.

  Julia.

  It had been four days since he’d sent her a story, four days without a single word of explanation. Not that any excuse would absolve him. She’d just say they’d made a deal and that any deviation on his part was a betrayal. His only hope was to distract her long enough for her ire to cool. Nathan took a deep breath and tried not to panic.

  “Hey, Julia. What’s up?”

  His editor was in the middle of one of her nicotine-fueled coughing fits.

  “Ooh,” he said. “That sounds bad.”

  “Just a cold,” she gasped.

  “Maybe you should take some time off.”

  “I did … three days”—she hacked again—“in the hospital.”

  “For a cold?”

  “It was a bad cold.”

  He heard paper ripping and the distinctive snick of a cigarette lighter followed by a wheezing inhale.

  “And yet, you’re still smoking.”

  Julia cleared her throat. “I got the kind with menthol. They’re good for you.”

  Nathan shook his head. If the woman wanted to kill herself, there was nothing he could do about it.

  “I don’t see your articles in my in-box,” she said.

  “I’m working on them.”

  “Of course you are.”

  Julia’s sarcasm was irksome. Nathan felt his lips tighten.

  “Look, we both know you’re not going to run them anytime soon. What’s the rush?”

  “You’re right,” she said. “If I run them at all, it’ll be next summer.”

  “So why the call? And don’t tell me you miss me.”

  There was a long pause while she took another drag on her cigarette. The smoke coarsened Julia’s voice, but she sounded more avid than annoyed.

  “How’d you like your old column back?”

  Nathan’s heart began to race. Was she kidding? After his ignominious demotion the year before, his entire world had gone to pieces. He felt like a starving man being offered a five-course meal.

  “If this is a joke—”

  “It’s not. I’ve already cleared it with the powers that be.”

  His eyes narrowed. A column was a plum position at a newspaper. Nobody just gave it to you without expecting something in return.

  “Okay, you’ve got my attention. What do I have to do?”

  “Have you got Wi-Fi out there in the hinterlands?”

  “Supposed to, yeah.”

  Nathan pulled the laptop out of his backpack and started groping around for the username and password the clerk had handed him when he checked in.

  “Good,” she said. “I want you to get online and take a look at something.”

  He signed on to the motel’s system and grimaced at the hundreds of unanswered e-mails that filled his in-box. It wasn’t just work he’d been avoiding the last few days, Nathan thought guiltily, it was the entire world.

  “Okay, I’m on. Now what?”

  “There’s a page I want you to check out that’s generating a lot of buzz. It’s called Boomer’s Bucket List.”

  He hesitated, his fingers poised over the keyboard.

  “Boomer’s …”

  “Bucket List, three words. It’s about a woman who’s taking her sick dog on a trip across the country to do things she thinks he’d enjoy before he dies.”

  Nathan typed in the name and hit “return,” feeling as if a cold hand had seized his heart. Sure enough, a Web page full of pictures of Jennifer and her dog filled the screen. It was quite a production, too, with funny memes, GIFs, and a place for comments. Visitors to the page could even play a game called Where’s Boomer? by uploading pictures they’d taken of Boomer and Jennifer. As he scrolled down the page, he saw himself in one of them, sitting in the audience at the dog show, and felt a shock. If Julia had seen it, too, that might explain the phone call.

  “Okay, I see it.”

  “What do you think? Pretty slick, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “So, it’s grabbed a lot of eyeballs and generated a lot of interest in a story that was practically tailor-made to do just that.”

  He blinked. “Are you telling me it’s a fake?”

  “I don’t know if it is or it isn’t. What I do know is that the PR firm managing it has a reputation for, let’s say, playing fast and loose with the truth where generating business is concerned. That, and the fact that its ads are all over the page make me very, very suspicious.”

  Nathan sat back and ran a hand through his hair. Was Jennifer’s story about Boomer’s illness a publicity stunt? He’d wondered himself just how sick her dog was, but the way she’d choked up when she told him about the vet’s diagnosis had been pretty convincing. He walked over to the window and parted the curtains, peering out at the black Toyota truck sitting in the motel’s parking lot not twenty yards away. The thought that he might have been duped put a bitter taste in his mouth.

  “So, what is it you want me to do?”

  “See if you can find out what’s really going on. The Web site says the two of them are following Route 66 west to the coast. It’s a long shot, but if you can find them, the Trib is willing to resurrect your column so you can tell the world about it.”

  “An exposé?”

  “That depends on what you find. Right now people are going crazy over Boomer and this Westbrook woman. If you can nail their story down before the competition does, it’ll mean a ton of exposure—for you and for us.”

  Could he do it? Nathan wondered. If Julia was wrong and Boomer’s condition was as bad as he’d been told, he could put the rumors to rest, but if she was right, he’d not only have his column back, he’d be scooping the
competition on a big juicy scandal. Either way, though, he didn’t think Jennifer would ever forgive him.

  He pushed the thought away. This wasn’t personal, it was his job, and Jennifer was a big girl. If she was telling the truth, then she should understand. If she wasn’t … He shook his head. Well, if she wasn’t telling the truth, then it didn’t matter because she wasn’t the woman he’d thought she was. The only important question was, Did he want his column back or not?

  “So, what do you think?” Julia said. “Can you find them?”

  Nathan closed the curtains.

  “I think I already have.”

  CHAPTER 24

  “Oh, my God, Stacy. This place is gorgeous.”

  Stacy and her best friend, Madison, were standing on the sidewalk, admiring Jennifer’s town house. The tree-lined street, tasteful exterior, and lush landscaping were a far cry from the South Side apartment building the two of them called home.

  “I come here every day now,” Stacy said. “Jennifer told me to just make myself at home while she’s gone.”

  Ever since Boomer’s Bucket List had taken off, Stacy had become something of a celebrity to her friends. The notoriety had not only helped to dispel her lingering unease about the Web site, but she’d found that she enjoyed their envy and newfound respect. It seemed only fair that she should share it with her BFF.

  As they started up the walkway, Madison spotted the accumulated offerings on the front stoop.

  “Look at all the flowers! You were right; this place is like a memorial or something.” Madison glanced at the stuffed animal in her hands and bit her lip. “Would you mind if I just put it down here for a second so I can take a selfie?”

  “Go ahead.”

  Stacy smiled indulgently. She’d told her friend not to bring anything, that too many gifts had been left there already, but Madison said that it would be practically sacrilegious to show up empty-handed, and in the end she’d given in. As long as it wasn’t another bunch of flowers, she could bring whatever she liked.

  Madison stepped forward and set the miniature Rottweiler—a Beanie Baby she’d had since the second grade—down on the pile, then took out her phone and snapped a couple of selfies, checking after each one to make sure that both she and the toy were clearly visible. As she scooped the Rottweiler back up, Stacy opened the door, leaving the flowers behind.

  “Aren’t you going to get those?”

  Stacy shook her head. “There are already tons of them inside. I’ve been donating the new ones to a nursing home.”

  Madison was eyeing them covetously.

  “You can take a couple if you want.”

  “Really? Thanks.”

  They stepped inside and slipped off their shoes. The bouquet in the foyer had started to wilt; Stacy put it in the trash and poured the water out in the powder room sink, then checked on the plants downstairs to make sure they were still moist. Madison stepped into the living room and set the Rottweiler down reverently on the pile of stuffed animals.

  “You think she’ll like it? I put a note on it to tell her how sorry I am about Boomer.”

  “Sure,” Stacy said. “Jennifer’s really nice.”

  She opened the curtains, turned off the porch light, and started slapping incipient dust bunnies off the furniture while Madison surveyed the room.

  “It’s like a picture in a magazine.”

  Stacy looked around, seeing the place anew through her friend’s eyes. It did look like something out of a magazine. The colors Jennifer had chosen were soothing, and the style was classic, neither extravagant nor too trendy.

  Perfect, she thought. Everything about Jennifer was perfect. She might be beautiful and rich, but she wasn’t bitchy or stuck-up and she didn’t act like she was better than anybody else, either. Stacy smiled. It was like Jennifer was what she wanted to be when she grew up.

  “When can we eat?” Madison said. “I’m starved.”

  “In a minute. I have to check upstairs first.”

  “Can I come?”

  “Of course,” Stacy said, grinning.

  Madison was as impressed with the second floor as Stacy had been the first time she’d been there.

  “Look at all this space,” she said, throwing her arms wide. “And she doesn’t even have a roommate.”

  “She doesn’t need one,” Stacy said. “The place is hers.”

  Madison huffed. “Yeah, well. You’re born on third base, you don’t have to run too far to score a homer.”

  Stacy was checking the moisture in the office plants.

  “That’s the thing, though. She came up from nothing—worse than us, even. Her dad died when she was in high school and her mom was too depressed to work so Jennifer had to get a job and support her.”

  “In high school?”

  “Right after. She got married, too, and the guy used to beat her up.”

  Madison’s look was skeptical. “Did she tell you that?”

  Stacy blushed. “No, but I read her Wikipedia page and you can pretty much tell by what it says.”

  “Oh, well, I guess she’s earned it, then.” Madison grimaced. “Can we eat now? I’m dying here.”

  They walked into the kitchen, and Stacy set the Dunkin’ Donuts bag on the counter, then turned on the Keurig and checked the K-Cup supply. She bit her lip; the drawer was almost empty. Had she really used that many? She’d have to remember to buy some soon. Jennifer probably wouldn’t mind that she’d been using her stuff, but she didn’t want her to come back and find everything gone, either.

  “Ooh, this is real granite.” Madison ran her hand over the countertop. “Feel how cold it is? When I win the lottery, I’m getting a kitchen just like this.”

  There was a tray next to the sink that Stacy used when she ate outside. In the three days since Derek Compton had given her permission to spend more time at Jennifer’s, breakfast on the balcony had become her morning ritual. She set two plates, plus napkins and spoons, on the tray, then took out a third plate and started arranging the donuts on it.

  “I brought the paper from home. You want to read it while we eat?”

  “Sure.” Madison walked over and peered at the Keurig. “What’s that thing?”

  “It’s a fancy coffeemaker. What kind do you want? There’s Green Mountain, Tully’s, and Starbucks.”

  “Is the Starbucks light or dark roast?”

  Stacy checked. “Dark.”

  “I’ll take the Tully’s.”

  “Latte?”

  Madison giggled. “Of course.”

  When the coffee was ready, they set their mugs on the tray and went out to the balcony. The air was chilly that close to the river, but the fog had broken up, and there was very little breeze. The promenade was busy. Joggers and bicyclists passed by in neon-bright outfits, and a teenager on a hoverboard slalomed through the fallen leaves. A young woman walked by, pushing a stroller while she talked on her phone, and a man in a gray tweed suit sat on a bench, holding a large orange cat in his lap. The two friends watched it all in companionable silence while they shared the donuts and hugged their coffee mugs for warmth.

  “This is so civilized,” Madison said. “Must make it hard to go to work some days, huh?”

  “You can say that again.”

  Stacy sighed. Sitting there, she could almost forget the town house wasn’t hers and that as soon as she left she’d be going back to a thankless job for which she was paid less than the janitors.

  “How are things at work with that Jason guy?”

  “Better, I guess.” She made a face. “Mostly, he just leaves me alone.”

  “You ask me, he sounds like a jerk.” Madison reached for the newspaper. “You want sports, local, or headlines? I’ve got dibs on the comics.”

  “Sports, I guess. Everything else is too depressing.”

  Madison parceled out the paper and handed her the sports section. Stacy pursed her lips as she scanned the first page. The Bears had lost every one of their first three games, and
basketball season wouldn’t start for another month. Except for a few rivalries she remembered from high school, there was nothing else on the sports pages that held any interest for her. Maybe she should have taken the headlines.

  “Ooh, this is interesting,” Madison said. “Looks like they’re bringing back Nathan Koslow’s column.”

  “I thought they fired him after that lawsuit.”

  “I guess not.”

  Stacy was glad the Trib had reconsidered; she’d missed the guy’s take on Chicago’s movers and shakers. Some people, she thought, just needed to be taken down a notch.

  “So, who’s in his crosshairs this time?”

  Madison was skimming the article, looking troubled.

  “Maddy, what’s wrong?”

  “I’m not sure,” she said carefully. “I mean, it almost sounds like it’s about your friend and her dog.”

  “What?” Stacy snatched the paper out of Madison’s hands and started to read.

  The title was “Heartaches, Headaches, and Hoaxes,” and the first two paragraphs were about a bookkeeper who’d been caught embezzling from a local charity.

  Stacy scowled. “What’s embezzling got to do with Jennifer?”

  “Keep going. It’s near the end.”

  She skimmed the next couple of paragraphs—something about a fight between the mayor and advocates for the homeless—still wondering what Madison was talking about. Then Stacy reached the final paragraph, and the hair rose up on the back of her neck.

  No one who’s ever read a quote from “Abraham Lincoln” about the dangers of the Internet believes that the World Wide Web is a purveyor of unvarnished truth. Nevertheless, one hopes that there are some lines even the most cynical among us won’t cross; lies about kids and animals happen to be at the top of my list. So when rumors about a popular Web site featuring a local woman and her “dying” dog reached my ears, discovering the truth became my top priority. No answers for you yet, dear readers, but rest assured that this reporter is on the case. Stay tuned for more and better particulars.

  *

  “What do you think?” Madison said. “Is he talking about Boomer’s Bucket List?”

 

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