by Lolita Files
I’ll get her a puppy, he thought. That would give her something to pour her love into, and open the door for them to have dialogue again. He settled back in his seat, proud of himself.
Puppies were the answer to everything, he realized. There wasn’t a person alive who didn’t like them. He’d even read somewhere once that a post office brought them in for stressed-out employees during peak times like tax season and busy holidays. The puppies kept them from going postal. No matter how upset an employee became when overwhelmed with work, something about a bouncy bundle of fur just made it all seem better.
Dandre smiled as he reached in his pocket for the bottle of Visine.
It was after 8 P.M. when his flight landed. He rented an Explorer and drove straight to Manhattan Beach. He’d done Mapquest before he left New York, so he already knew general directions to where she lived.
He was careful not to appear conspicuous, lest she be outside or someplace where she would notice him. He wanted his first contact to be well planned.
His pace was slow as he drove past the address. The roads were slick and a slight drizzle was falling. The lights were on in the house in front. There was a side path that led to the back house, which he assumed was where she lived.
He pulled over to the side of the street, hit the lights on the truck, got out, and approached. The sound of barking could be heard from the front house. Dandre ducked behind a nearby tree. It was chilly and drizzling, and he was getting wet. He peered around the tree, toward the back of the house.
There was Black, parked deep inside the driveway, his New York plates in plain view.
“Perfect,” he said.
He rushed back over to his rental, turned on the lights, and pulled off. He’d make his move tomorrow, he decided. First, he needed a long night of rest and a chance to reacclimate himself to the world of Cali. It had been a while since he’d been on the left coast.
He could hear the dull thump of music as he walked up to the house. The silhouettes of swaying bodies were visible through the windows. He put his key in the lock, but it was already open.
It was cold outside, but it was warm inside the house, and the air was thick with the stench of primo chronic. People were everywhere, walking, talking, dancing, and lying about as if they were at home. Containers of half-eaten pizzas and buckets of wings were on the coffee table, along with empty bottles of beer and liquor.
A stunning assortment of bikini-clad and topless women made out with various men and each other to the sounds of Snoop pumping through the stereo system. Zoe and Chloe—both topless—were dancing in the middle of the room. Sandwiched between them was a Suge Knight lookalike, a bald and bearded guy chomping on an unlit stogie.
“Go Sleazy, go Sleazy,” they chanted.
Dandre stood in the doorway watching them.
“C’mon in, man,” someone yelled. “Shut the door, it’s cold.”
Zoe and Chloe looked in his direction.
“Dandre,” they yelled, running over to him, abandoning Sleazy to grind alone with his cigar.
“Who’s that cat?” asked a guy on the couch. He was rolling a blunt the size of a hot dog.
“I own this place,” Dandre said. “Who the hell are you, and why the fuck do you have all that weed in here?”
The guy raised up off the couch, ready for beef. Dandre dropped his bag at his side, sizing him up.
“Stop it, Ebay,” Zoe said to the man, her bare breasts heaving. “This is our cousin Dandre Hilliard from New York.”
“Cousin?” asked Sleazy, cocking his head at the girls as they stood beside Dandre. “Now this is kinda freaky. He don’t seem too shocked to see your titties hanging out like that.”
“We’re distant cousins,” said the twins and Dandre.
“Oh,” Sleazy said. “Well, whatup then.”
Random people in the room gave a nod and said what’s up. The rest continued with whatever they were doing. Ebay sat back down, licked the blunt to seal it, and lit up. Sleazy went back to dancing, his eyes closed as he waved his cigar in the air.
“How come you didn’t tell us you were coming out?” asked Chloe.
“Perhaps I should have,” Dandre said. “Now clear this place and go put some clothes on.”
Both women groaned and began to complain in unison.
“What? Why you trippin’? It’s not like you haven’t been in this kind of scene before. This used to be how you liked to get down.”
“Not anymore,” he said. “Get ’em out.”
Dandre turned the dimmer switch in the living room to high. People began to cower and cover their eyes.
“What’s going on?”
“Shut that light off.”
“Whodafuck?”
“Yo, who got my weed?”
“Y’all, the party’s over,” Chloe said.
“Yeah,” said Zoe, “y’all gotta get out.”
The guests moaned and griped as they snatched up their clothes, half-full liquor bottles, and unclaimed blunts on the coffee table.
Dandre walked past a couple going at it on the staircase.
“Time to break out,” he said, tapping the man on the shoulder as he passed.
He walked up to the landing, then down the hall to the master bedroom. The door was open and the scent of marijuana was thick. From the way the bedsprings sang, he knew he didn’t need to proceed any farther. He went back down the stairs. Zoe and Chloe had rustled most of the people out, barring a straggler or two.
“Handle that situation upstairs,” he said.
Zoe and Chloe looked at each other.
“The Tonies,” they said, and bounded up the staircase.
Dandre didn’t want to know who or what the Tonies were. All he knew was that it was going to take a concentrated cleanup effort and some strong fumigation to get the place back to a decent, livable state.
The twins had turned the expensive beach house into a hoe haven and roughneck central. Dandre couldn’t imagine why the neighbors didn’t complain. Perhaps they had and the girls kept it to themselves. Perhaps Hill knew and had bumped heads with them before.
The Strand was a renowned section of the beach, checkered with older homes, fabulous new ones, and some even more magnificent that were under construction. Hill had built this house five years earlier, after tearing down the original property. Zoe and Chloe, both twenty-three, had been living there rent-free and unchecked. All they paid were utilities. They had moved out West at the age of eighteen, determined to sparkle in Hollywood like the twin orbs of light they deemed themselves to be. So far their twinkle had been dim, but they were an obvious hit with the do-me crowd.
“Can I go to bed now?” Chloe yelled. “I’ve got an audition in the morning at eight. My nails are gonna be jacked up from this.”
She was wearing a sweatshirt without a bra and a pair of shorts, and was on her knees scrubbing the floor. Zoe was in the kitchen with a mop. Dandre was upstairs changing the sheets and covers.
“No,” he replied. “Not until this house is clean. This is ridiculous.”
“No, you’re ridiculous,” Zoe mumbled from the kitchen. She walked out into the living room and over to her sister. “He’s trip-pin’. What do you think is up with him?”
“I don’t know, girl,” Chloe said. “I thought he was getting married. I don’t know what he’s doing out here. Maybe he wants to use it for the honeymoon.”
She threw the scrub brush into the bucket of soapy water sitting beside her.
“Then where are we supposed to go?” Zoe asked. “He can’t just come kick us out like this with no advance warning. We should call Uncle Hill.”
“Call him all you want,” Dandre said, coming down the stairs with an armload of dirty sheets and blankets. “This place is mine too.” He dropped the linens on the floor in a heap. “And I’m not kicking you out. I just need a spot for a few days, until I straighten some things out.”
“Just a few days?” they asked.
“Yeah, but th
ose parties are history. There’ll be none of that action going on up in here again.”
“But, Dandre,” Chloe whined. “Everybody considers this the spot.”
“Well, everybody’s gonna have to go somewhere else. I need this place to be peaceful. I’ve got some important work to do while I’m here, and the last thing I need is that kind of chaos to fuck it up. You understand?”
They stood before him nodding their heads.
“Then say you understand.”
“We understand,” the twins chimed.
“Tomorrow we’re draining that hot tub,” he said.
Dandre went back up to finish the room.
“Yeah, right,” Zoe said. “He done went mad if he thinks this is the last time there’s gonna be a party up in here.”
“You know?” replied Chloe.
Dandre stood in front of the house. It was still cold and rainy and the twins had long gone to bed. A beanie was pulled tight over his head, and his hands were stuffed into the pockets of his sweatsuit. He was getting soaked, but he didn’t care.
He contemplated the roar of the ocean before him. Even though it was dark, he could still make out the foam crests of the waves as the choppy waters crashed against the shore. The salty scent of the sea was comforting.
“I’m getting her back,” he said. “Watch.”
It was a statement to the heavens. Dandre wanted the universe to know that no distance and no thing could stand between him and his woman.
“It’s time to put away childish things and step up…be a man.”
The crashing sound of the waves was the sole reply.
Three Dog Night
At noon the next day, Dandre was at a place called the Pet Sanctuary. The dogs were gathered together by breed in little playpens; so were some of the kittens. The place was filled with the happy sounds of yipping and screeching, barks and meows.
“How are these?” he asked the saleswoman, pointing at a batch of small, barking dogs.
“Miniature schnauzers are great,” she said. “They’re very friendly and alert, but they do tend to be a little noisy. Do you mind a barker?”
One of the schnauzers had the lungs of Pavarotti.
“What’s that?” he said, pointing at the face.
“The bushy eyebrows and muttonchops are very typical of the breed.”
“Oh. So it would look funny if I shaved it off?”
The woman glanced at him with surprise.
“I don’t think you want a schnauzer, sir.”
They walked farther down to a pen of beautiful little white dogs.
“What are those?”
“Some are bichon frises,” she said, “and some are Maltese.”
The dogs all looked the same to him.
“How can you tell them apart?” he asked.
“Bichons have curly hair. The Maltese, as it gets older, has straight hair. They’re related breeds and both have excellent temperaments. They’re also ideal because they’re hypoallergenic.”
“How’s that?”
She reached into the pen and handed him one of the dogs. It was a bundle of little curls with big black bright eyes.
“This one’s a bichon. They have silky hair, just like the Maltese, so they don’t shed. They do require their fair share of grooming, though.” She took the squirming dog from him.
“They’ve got a top coat and an undercoat, and if it’s not cared for properly, matting can be a real problem.”
Dandre imagined Reesy cursing him out for giving her a pet that needed its hair done more than she did her own. He wandered over to what looked like a pen of little foxes. There were only three of them—two that were a beautiful red sesame color and one that was black and tan. They flashed what appeared to be wide-mouthed grins when he approached.
“Now these are cute,” he said. “What are they? I’ve never seen them before.”
The woman put the bichon away and came over to him.
“Aah…” she said. “These are my babies. They’re very, very hard to get. I couldn’t believe these three even came through. They’ve only been here for a few days, but they’re inseparable.”
Of course they are, he thought, they’re together in a pen.
She knelt down, playing kissy-face with the puppies. “Aren’t you inseparable, my cute little munchkins?”
The foxettes leapt and grinned at her. They didn’t bark like the schnauzer and, without all that silky hair, they didn’t seem as high-maintenance as the bichons and Maltese.
“What are they called?” he asked. “Do they get very big?”
Reesy wouldn’t want a big dog. He was sure of that.
The woman picked up the black and tan one. It pinned its ears back and tried to lap her face. She handed the dog to Dandre.
“These are shiba inus,” she said.
“Shiba what?”
“Inus. They’re related to the Akita, although much smaller and with much better temperaments. They are a very happy, friendly breed by nature. They’re indigenous to Japan—the most common breed there—more than a million, I think.”
“Wow.”
Dandre petted the puppy’s head. It looked him in the eyes and grinned.
“Awww,” he said. “It’s smiling at me.”
“She likes you,” the woman decided, taking the dog.
She handed him the other two. Both puppies lapped his face and grinned, their ears also pinned.
“Oh, this is awful. Why’d you hand me these two? They look so cute when they lay their ears back like that. There’s no way I can decide on one.”
At that comment, the smaller red sesame puppy let out a yip.
“It’s okay, baby,” the woman said, rubbing the dog’s head. “He might not split you up. He’s still looking. It’s okay.”
“What do you mean, ‘he might not split you up’?”
“Well,” she said, “they’re so close. The two little ones are littermates—you know, siblings. The bigger one is from another litter, but these two took right to him like family. I’ve never seen three dogs so attached to each other.”
Dandre stared at her. The two red sesames licked his cheeks. She held the black and tan dog in her arms. It flashed him a white-toothed grin.
“They’re gorgeous, aren’t they?” she said. “They don’t bark at all, unless it’s to alert you to something. Every now and then you find one that has a curious bark, but that’s rare.”
“A curious bark?” he asked. “What do you mean by curious? Like this yipping? Because that’s not a problem. It’s kind of cute.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that other thing,” she said with a wave of her hand. “It’s nothing. These dogs are a joy. Very feline. They even clean themselves like cats, so bathing won’t be a big problem at all. They almost kind of look like cats, don’t you think?”
She played with the black and tan one’s curled, bushy tail.
“They’re not high-maintenance. And as long as a shiba has room to play, he’s happy. Well…” She looked at the puppies. “…as long as they’re together,” she said in an exaggerated baby voice.
Dandre thought of Reesy and how she might react to such a thing.
“How old are they?” he asked.
“The girls are two months and the boy is four months.”
Dandre coddled the dogs. They were reeling him in. The woman said nothing to him for a while as she watched him playing with the happy puppies.
“So how much do they cost?” he said at last.
“Six hundred.”
“Together?” he said with shock. “Man, they’re expensive. That’s two hundred a dog.”
“Oh my goodness, no,” she replied with a laugh. “They’re six hundred apiece.”
Eighteen hundred–plus dollars, twenty minutes, ten pounds of puppy chow, six chew toys, three collars, three name tags, three puppies, and one baby pen later, Dandre emerged from the pet store. The woman stood in the doorway waving good-bye.
“She’s gon
na kill me,” he said to the dogs. “I came for one of you. How in the world did I end up with three?”
The smaller red sesame shiba yipped. She sported a collar and tag with her new moniker—Harlem—named for her soon-to-be owner’s former place of residence. The black and tan one was dubbed Peanut, in honor of Reesy’s stage name as an exotic dancer, Peanut Butter. The larger red sesame shiba—the lone boy—was called Dante, a blend of Dandre’s name and Reesy’s real name, Teresa.
“Yeah,” he said to the puppies. “I got played, right? That’s what you’re trying to say.”
The three dogs yipped and wagged their curly tails.
He loaded them into the rented Explorer.
The woman watched him for a moment, smiled, then walked back inside the store.
“I can’t believe he took all three,” she said to her assistant.
“That don’t-split-’em-up bit hasn’t worked in years.”
The puppies were running around the beach house, pissing and shitting on everything that didn’t move.
“You just had us up all night cleaning this place,” Zoe said.
“How you gonna bring these rats up in here and let them loose on everything?”
“For real,” Chloe said. “I’m not getting on my knees again and scrubbing these floors, that’s for damn sure.”
Harlem ran toward her and leapt in her arms with surprising agility. She lapped Chloe’s face and tugged at her curls. Chloe laughed.
“Get off me, you little house of shit. That’s not gonna win me over.”
Harlem kept licking. Chloe cradled the dog like a baby and walked upstairs.
Dandre watched her as he sat on the couch writing out a Mahogany Hallmark card to Reesy. The twins were not animal people at all. If the dogs could win them over, he knew they’d be his way back into Reesy’s heart.