The woman who answered the door was in her late thirties, Aishe guessed, blonde and attractive but a little frayed around the edges. Too thin, Aishe decided. Like Michelle’s friend, Connie. The woman saw a big tattooed man with a mullet hairdo on her doorstep.
‘Hi.’ Nico smiled and reached out his hand. ‘I’m Nico Durante, from the shelter. This is my colleague, Aishe.’
‘Hello.’ The woman was regarding Nico’s hand as if it belonged to a proctologist with a bad reputation, Aishe thought. But she did give it a quick, tentative shake.
Then she glanced over her shoulder. ‘Look, I’m sorry, but Danny came home sick from pre-school today. I haven’t told him, and I—’ She scrunched up her face apologetically. ‘Could you come back another day?’
Aishe breathed in, but Nico got in first. ‘Ma’am, I’m afraid the dog’s welfare is our first priority now. We’ll make sure your son — well, we’ll be as quick as we can.’
Aishe couldn’t help herself. ‘How did you intend to explain it when he got home from pre-school anyway?’ she said. ‘Were you just going to pretend the dog was a figment of his imagination?’
The woman looked as if she were about to cry. Aishe felt Nico’s hand grip her upper arm in a way that was slightly too firm for comfort.
‘Ma’am,’ he said, ‘can you show us to the dog?’
The woman hesitated, her mouth working with anxiety and indecision. She glanced again over her shoulder and opened up the door.
‘It’s in the laundry,’ she said. ‘Come on through.’
It, thought Aishe? Your dog is not an it. But Nico’s grip on her arm had not slackened. She decided to keep quiet.
Aishe had half expected the dog to be chained up in a corner, but he was loose, and when the laundry door was opened came bounding at them, tongue lolling, crooning in the way Labradors do when they’re excited to see you. At least the laundry was a reasonable size, Aishe thought. And there’s food and water and a bed. But this dog shouldn’t be shut in here on its own. Labradors are social. They need company.
The dog was only a year old but already adult sized, and over sixty pounds. He leapt up on Nico, who emitted a short, sharp guttural sound. Immediately, the dog dropped to the ground and rolled over.
‘My God, how did you do that?’ said the woman. ‘I can never get him to stop jumping up.’
‘Dogs need to know who’s boss,’ said Nico. ‘I’m alpha dog now, so he’ll wait for my cue before he does anything.’
‘And all you needed to do was growl at him?’
Nico smiled. ‘I’ve had a lot of practice at getting that growl right.’
The dog was now sitting at Nico’s feet, gazing up at him adoringly. Nico reached down and fondled his ears.
‘Nice-natured dog. You know he could easily be trained? If you wanted to change your mind, I could suggest a good dog school for you.’
The woman blushed and shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. ‘Oh, no … I don’t think so …’
‘Mommy?’
A small boy in Blue’s Clues pajamas was in the doorway. He looked as if he’d just woken up. His face was flushed and his hair damp. Fever, thought Aishe. He should be back in bed.
‘Danny!’
The woman skittered along the floor towards her son and scooped him up. Her mouth opened, but she’d been caught on the hop and it was clear her mind had gone blank.
‘Hi, Danny,’ said Nico. ‘I’m Nico and this is Aishe. We’re here to visit—’ He blinked, realising. ‘What’s your dog’s name?’
‘Blackie,’ said Danny’s mother quickly.
Danny, head resting on her shoulder, gave a faint nod.
‘OK,’ said Nico. ‘Blackie’s going to come and live with us for a bit.’
Danny lifted his head. ‘Why?’ he said to his mother.
‘He’s — well, he’s going to play with some other dogs.’ Her voice was brittle, jittery.
‘Why?’ Danny was frowning now.
‘Oh, Danny.’ His mother’s small well of inspiration had dried up. She looked once again near tears.
‘Hey, Danny,’ said Nico. ‘What’s your favourite movie?’
Danny hesitated, then said. ‘Toy Story.’
‘Have you got it on DVD?’
Danny nodded.
‘Want to watch it now?’ said Nico.
Danny’s mother had finally clicked. ‘Why don’t we go watch it?’ she said. ‘I could microwave some popcorn?’
Danny beamed and clutched his hands together. ‘Yes! Yes!’
At the laundry door, his mother paused. ‘Thank you,’ she said, and hurried out.
Nico took a deep breath and bent to give the dog’s ears one last fondle. ‘OK, buddy,’ he said. ‘Time to go.’
The van’s engine whined before rattling into life. Blackie was in the back, in a cage into which he had gone willingly. His bed, bowls and all traces of his existence had been removed from the laundry and shoved into the van. Nico and Aishe had let themselves out the front door of the house without saying goodbye. From the living room, they could hear Randy Newman singing about having a friend in me.
Aishe sat in silence for the first five minutes because she was too angry to speak. Nico kept quiet too — for the same reason, Aishe assumed.
‘You should have told her that if we can’t find a home for her dog,’ said Aishe, ‘then we’ll have to put him down.’
‘Should I?’ said Nico.
‘Hell yes! She should know the consequences of being a stupid cow!’ Aishe gestured angrily. ‘I’d like to know what the hell she intends to tell her kid now.’ She put on an affected, saccharine voice. ‘Oh, honey, Blackie’s gone to doggy camp. He’ll have such a fun time.’
‘Shut up, Aishe,’ said Nico.
‘Oh, what?’ said Aishe. ‘You agree with what she’s done? You’re OK with her bullshitting her kid and potentially sending her dog to his death?’
‘NO, I AM NOT FUCKING OK WITH IT!’
Aishe had never heard Nico even raise his voice, let alone yell like that. The shock of it made her recoil. She shrank back in her seat and stared at him, waiting and wary.
‘Jesus fuck, Aishe.’ Nico had lowered his voice, but he was still breathing hard. ‘Why the fuck do you do this job? Why do you even fucking bother to be here?’
He didn’t wait for her to answer. ‘Can you not fucking see — have you not learned — that it’s not just about the animals? Sure, people who abuse animals need to be stopped and they need to be punished. But that’s not just for the sake of the animals — it’s for the sake of the people, the kids and wives and girlfriends, whom those assholes will also abuse. That woman—’ He waved his hand in the air, causing the van to swerve slightly. ‘She decided to get a dog because she wanted to distract her kid from the fact his father had gone. She wanted him to feel less alone. Was that smart? No. She should have found out more about what it meant to own a dog. Was it understandable? Was it a decision any reasonable human being could have compassion for? Hell yes!’
He paused to catch his breath. His face and neck had gone a dark, mottled red, and Aishe found herself trawling her memory for the basics of CPR. But then he straightened in his seat and started taking deep, calming breaths. The mottling receded. The octopus tentacle tattoo on his neck became visible again.
Aishe was willing him to look at her, but he was intent on the road. She had the urge to apologise over and over again, but it didn’t seem appropriate. It didn’t seem enough. She realised for the first time that she, too, had been a beneficiary of Nico’s compassion. He’s kept me on because he felt sorry for me, she thought. He’s seen though all my cranky bluster and understood how much I’ve needed this work. And even I don’t really understand why I need it.
He’s been good to me, she realised. I’ve always known that. It’s why I’m so desperate for him to think well of me. But in my usual way, I’ve managed to sabotage all my good intentions. He’s been good to me and in return, all I’ve given him
is shit.
‘I could take him,’ she said. ‘Blackie.’
It was a while before Nico replied. ‘I thought you didn’t want a dog because you wanted to stay mobile.’
‘I’ve lived in the same place for almost ten years,’ she said. ‘I think I was more attached to the idea of being able to leave at a moment’s notice than the reality.’ She paused. ‘Gulliver’s always wanted a dog.’
Again, Nico didn’t reply for some time. ‘I’ll think about it,’ he said.
And they drove the rest of the way back in silence.
29
‘Don’t sip it.’ Aishe said to Connie. ‘Toss it back. Down the hatch!’
‘I can’t,’ said Connie.
‘We’ll chant until you do,’ said Michelle. ‘Oi! Oi! Oi—’
‘For goodness’ sake!’
Connie downed the shot, and sat up straighter on the bar stool, her eyes watering. ‘Oh my …’
Michelle patted her on the back. ‘Excellent. One down. However many to go.’
‘Oh no.’ Connie fanned herself with her hand. ‘No, I simply can’t.’
‘It might not be a good idea,’ Aishe said to Michelle. ‘It’s not like she has any body fat to absorb it. If she has another she could die of alcohol poisoning. We’d have to take her out to a vacant lot and dump her, and that would waste valuable drinking time.’
Michelle considered this. ‘All right, Connie. You have our permission to pace yourself.’
Aishe said, ‘Speaking of which, we should get some food in us. Otherwise, this night will be over before it’s begun.’ She signalled to the bartender. ‘You do food here?’
The bartender of the Silver Saddle was a wiry man who looked like he’d been dried, smoked and then pickled in brine. It was impossible to tell how old he was, thought Aishe. Could be aged anywhere between fifty and ninety.
‘I got peanuts,’ he said, ‘or peanuts. Take your pick.’
‘Nuts aren’t going to cut it,’ said Aishe to the others. ‘Let’s go to the taco place. They have a model train.’
‘One for the road?’ said Michelle.
Aishe slapped the bar. ‘Line ’em up!’ she said to the bartender. ‘Except for the woman to my right who’s new to this drinking caper.’
‘You want a soda, hon?’ the bartender asked Connie.
‘Thank you,’ said Connie, gratified. ‘Um, do you have diet?’
‘This bar is called the Silver Saddle, Connie,’ said Michelle, ‘not the Girl’s Blouse.’
Connie smiled at the bartender. ‘Regular will be fine.’
As the three of them crossed the road to the cantina, Connie, in high heels and a short, fitted, sleeveless black dress, struggled to keep up.
‘When you said we’d go out for a drink,’ she said, when they’d been seated by a smiling man with a large moustache, ‘I imagined we’d be in a cocktail lounge at a hotel. If I’d known the truth, I would never have worn this dress. Or these shoes. I’m only grateful I thought to bring a coat.’
‘You look lovely,’ said Michelle. ‘Like Audrey Hepburn. Only she wasn’t blonde.’ Her brow creased. ‘Who was little and blonde in the sixties?’
‘Bridget Bardot,’ said Aishe.
Michelle shook her head. ‘Tits too big. Who was flat-chested, little and blonde?’
‘Twiggy. Jean Shrimpton.’
‘That’s it!’ Michelle snapped her fingers. ‘You look like her.’
The smiling man with the moustache was back. ‘Have you decided?’
‘Yes!’ said Michelle. ‘Connie looks like Jean Shrimp-thing.’
‘He means food,’ said Aishe. ‘Beef burrito. Gracias.’
‘Same,’ said Michelle. ‘With extra guacamole. And the gracias thing, too.’
‘I’ll have a chicken salad,’ said Connie.
‘She’s kidding,’ said Michelle. ‘She’ll have the burrito, too, with all the trimmings. And then we’ll all have a big, fat slice of that Mexican chocolate cake.’
The man was gone before Connie could protest.
Michelle beamed around the table at her companions. ‘I’m quite drunk,’ she said. ‘This is good. Don’t for Christ’s sake let me sober up or I’ll start to cry.’
‘What have you got to cry about?’ said Aishe.
‘My husband is supposed to back in two days, and I’m shitting myself that he’ll bail,’ said Michelle. ‘Or that he will come back but only to tell me that it’s all over.’
‘But you might be worrying unnecessarily,’ said Aishe. ‘So you don’t get the pity prize.’
‘My husband may be having an affair,’ said Connie in a small voice. ‘Does that make me a contender?’
‘God, Connie! Have you not asked him yet?’ said Michelle. ‘You must ask him. I wouldn’t put it past that bitch Becca to be winding you up. Don’t torture yourself. Find out!’
‘Who’s he supposedly banging?’ said Aishe.
‘His PA.’ Michelle grimaced. ‘Her name is Brandi. With an “i”.’
‘You could put a bullet in her just for that.’ Aishe snapped a corn chip in half. ‘No jury would convict you.’
‘But when do I ask him?’ said Connie. ‘When he’s eating his breakfast cereal? When he’s putting on his tie? When he kisses me goodbye before going to work? When he comes home and takes off his shoes? When he says, “Want to watch Leno?” When we’re in bed together? When?’
‘Connie, you just made your life sound boring as fuck,’ said Aishe. ‘But I see your point. It’s not exactly a natural segue from Bran Buds to adultery.’
‘This is what you do, Connie.’ Michelle tapped the table with her finger. ‘When he says, “Want to watch Leno?” you say, “No, Phil. I don’t want to watch Leno. I want to talk about you and that slut.” Simple! No beating about the bush, if you’ll pardon the expression. Though I bet Brandi has a Brazilian. Her kind always do. Probably a vajazzler, as well.’
But Connie didn’t seem to be listening.
‘It’s true,’ she said. ‘My life is boring.’
‘Don’t listen to Aishe,’ said Michelle. ‘She’s a rude strumpet.’
Connie put her face in her hands. ‘I haven’t done anything interesting. Ever!’
‘Straight to maudlin after only one shot,’ Aishe said to Michelle. ‘Impressive.’
‘Connie.’ Michelle patted her back. ‘Lighten up. The reason we’re out drinking is so we can forget all our problems, not come up with a whole set of new ones.’
‘At least you two have got husbands,’ said Aishe. ‘I’ve got no one. My bed is as cold and arid as an Arctic wind.’
‘Oh my God,’ said Michelle. ‘Our buzz is dying. Quick! More alcohol!’
She beckoned over the smiling moustached man. ‘We need liquor. Presto!’
‘She means pronto,’ Aishe said to the man. ‘Or possibly “hey presto”, like a magician.’
‘That’s it!’ said Michelle. ‘Can you magic up some liquor?’
The man raised his hands apologetically. ‘I am sorry. We are not licensed.’
‘Bet you’ve got some out the back though, haven’t you?’ said Michelle. ‘Could you just slip a little in three tall glasses? Add a jaunty plastic straw and no one will know. We promise not to fall over until we’re outside.’
The man’s moustache drooped. ‘I cannot. I am sorry. We could be shut down.’
He hurried away before Michelle could find another way to ask the same question.
‘It’s a family restaurant,’ said Aishe. ‘Hence the model train.’
‘Is there a liquor store nearby?’ said Michelle. ‘I could smuggle some in.’
‘And put him and his family out of business, so they’re reduced to becoming drug mules for some vicious Colombian psychopath?’
‘Oh all right,’ said Michelle. ‘Then just eat quickly, you two, so we can reacquaint ourselves with the demon drink before he forgets how much we love him.’
Back out on the main street, Michelle stifled a belch and s
aid, ‘OK, where to now? Back in the Saddle?’
‘I’m not sure that place was salubrious,’ said Connie. ‘There were spittoons on the floor. And that big man in the corner with the long hair and the leather jacket was leering at us. I saw him.’
‘Really?’ said Michelle. ‘Was he good-looking?’
‘He had “Bloodrunners” tattooed across his forehead.’
‘Yes, but was he good-looking?’
While they were standing talking, a bus pulled up.
‘Let’s get on,’ said Aishe. ‘We need to find a town with more than one bar.’
‘Bar crawl!’ said Michelle. ‘Whoop whoop!’
‘Oh, my Lord,’ said Connie.
Two bus rides later, they were standing on an almost deserted main street, outside a barbershop that was owned, according to the sign, by Rudy.
‘Where the hell are we?’ said Aishe.
‘Outside Rudy’s barbershop,’ said Michelle. ‘Look, there’s Rudy’s big pole.’
‘You think that’s hilarious, don’t you?’ said Aishe.
‘That’s because I’m drunk again,’ said Michelle.
‘Connie, do you know where we are?’
Connie was holding her shoes in her hand. There was a large ladder in her pantyhose.
‘I have no idea,’ she said wearily.
‘Connie, if you drank, you’d have more stamina,’ said Michelle.
‘If you drove, you could be home by now,’ said Aishe.
The sound of a rumbling engine made them look to their right. Heading towards them was a pick-up. They couldn’t see the driver, but it seemed the driver had seen them because the truck slowed as it approached.
‘If it’s a guy named Zeke with no teeth,’ said Aishe, ‘I say we pay him to take Connie home.’
The Not So Perfect Life of Mo Lawrence Page 25