me together.
Enough sappiness. I had more pressing issues. First things first, handing off Fluffy.
I’d lifted Cliff’s number from Mona’s phone last night. I headed to my bedroom and unplugged my cell from the charger. Bless her heart, Missy had followed me, snorting and shaking her head, leaving a trail of water and slobber on the hardwood floor.
I grabbed a hand towel from the master bath and quickly wiped up the slippery mess. I found a dry edge to blot the folds around her nose. Once she was clean, I tossed the towel onto the bathroom counter.
“Cross your fingers, girl.” I punched in Cliff’s number. Missy tilted her head, and we both waited as the phone rang and rang.
“Hello?”
I gave Missy the thumbs up. “Hey Cliff, it’s Melinda. Melinda Langston. I—” It suddenly dawned on me he might not know about Mona. “Uh, I just wondered if you’d heard about Mona?”
“Yeah. The police called last night.” He mumbled like he had a mouthful of rocks. Or I’d woken him up from a drunken stupor.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“The well’s officially run dry. Not that I’ve seen a single penny in the past month.”
Fluffy suddenly appeared in the hallway. I frowned at her as she shimmied her way in between Missy and me.
“Mona paid you support?” That was news to me.
“It was a private matter.”
I could hear the clinking of ice against glass and then a slurp. You know, that slurp men thought was appropriate when they drank Scotch. I’m no prude, but 10:00 am was a little early to be drinking.
“I had no idea,” I said.
“That’s why it’s called private,” he ground out.
Good grief, he could compete with Mona for Jerk of the Year.
Missy slipped beneath the bed looking for a cool spot to take a nap. Fluffy sprawled out at the foot of the bed, watching me with her intense eyes. I turned my back on her and cleared my throat. “Well, the reason I called was to arrange a pick-up time.”
“For what?”
“Fluffy.”
His dark manic laughter burst into my ear. “She’s as big of a pain in my ass as my ex. Unless it’s cash, Scotch or a trip to Vegas, you don’t have anything I want.”
I walked into the bathroom and closed the door, feeling the need for privacy. “But you have joint custody.”
“I only fought for custody so I wouldn’t have to pay Mona dog support. It bugged the hell out of Mona that I had her precious Fluffy.”
That rumor was true. What a cad. “But you’re supposed to take her every Wednesday.”
“I was. Now she’s yours.”
“No.” I shook my head. “Fluffy is not my responsibility.” I did not have the patience to take care of a high maintenance dog.
“Possession is nine-tenths of the law,” he said. “If she doesn’t get her afternoon snack, she’s a real pisser. Good luck.”
The line went dead.
As Grandma Tillie used to say, “He makes a hornet look cuddly.” No wonder Mona kicked his butt to the curb.
I opened the door a crack and peeked into the bedroom. Missy had come out from under the bed and was now lying alongside Fluffy, staring at me as if I’d lost my mind hiding in the bathroom. I closed the door so I could think without being stared at.
Now what?
Chapter Eleven
Fluffy was like an unexpected pimple the day of an eveningwear competition. As ugly and as painful as it may be, neither the pimple nor Fluffy were going anywhere soon. Fluffy wasn’t a bad dog. It was me; I’m a one-dog woman.
After quick shower, I threw on a pair of sand-colored cargo pants, a purple tank top, a hoodie and my flip flops. The dogs and I hopped in the Jeep and took a chance we’d find Darby at Paw Prints. It was time for a chat.
We were in luck. The “Open” sign hung in the door of the studio. I pulled into the empty parking spot behind the FedEx truck, which had selfishly staked out two spaces.
The three of us enthusiastically tumbled out of the Jeep, and the dogs instantly made a beeline for Bow Wow.
“Not today, guys.
Enough sappiness. I had more pressing issues. First things first, handing off Fluffy.
I’d lifted Cliff’s number from Mona’s phone last night. I headed to my bedroom and unplugged my cell from the charger. Bless her heart, Missy had followed me, snorting and shaking her head, leaving a trail of water and slobber on the hardwood floor.
I grabbed a hand towel from the master bath and quickly wiped up the slippery mess. I found a dry edge to blot the folds around her nose. Once she was clean, I tossed the towel onto the bathroom counter.
“Cross your fingers, girl.” I punched in Cliff’s number. Missy tilted her head, and we both waited as the phone rang and rang.
“Hello?”
I gave Missy the thumbs up. “Hey Cliff, it’s Melinda. Melinda Langston. I—” It suddenly dawned on me he might not know about Mona. “Uh, I just wondered if you’d heard about Mona?”
“Yeah. The police called last night.” He mumbled like he had a mouthful of rocks. Or I’d woken him up from a drunken stupor.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“The well’s officially run dry. Not that I’ve seen a single penny in the past month.”
Fluffy suddenly appeared in the hallway. I frowned at her as she shimmied her way in between Missy and me.
“Mona paid you support?” That was news to me.
“It was a private matter.”
I could hear the clinking of ice against glass and then a slurp. You know, that slurp men thought was appropriate when they drank Scotch. I’m no prude, but 10:00 am was a little early to be drinking.
“I had no idea,” I said.
“That’s why it’s called private,” he ground out.
Good grief, he could compete with Mona for Jerk of the Year.
Missy slipped beneath the bed looking for a cool spot to take a nap. Fluffy sprawled out at the foot of the bed, watching me with her intense eyes. I turned my back on her and cleared my throat. “Well, the reason I called was to arrange a pick-up time.”
“For what?”
“Fluffy.”
His dark manic laughter burst into my ear. “She’s as big of a pain in my ass as my ex. Unless it’s cash, Scotch or a trip to Vegas, you don’t have anything I want.”
I walked into the bathroom and closed the door, feeling the need for privacy. “But you have joint custody.”
“I only fought for custody so I wouldn’t have to pay Mona dog support. It bugged the hell out of Mona that I had her precious Fluffy.”
That rumor was true. What a cad. “But you’re supposed to take her every Wednesday.”
“I was. Now she’s yours.”
“No.” I shook my head. “Fluffy is not my responsibility.” I did not have the patience to take care of a high maintenance dog.
“Possession is nine-tenths of the law,” he said. “If she doesn’t get her afternoon snack, she’s a real pisser. Good luck.”
The line went dead.
As Grandma Tillie used to say, “He makes a hornet look cuddly.” No wonder Mona kicked his butt to the curb.
I opened the door a crack and peeked into the bedroom. Missy had come out from under the bed and was now lying alongside Fluffy, staring at me as if I’d lost my mind hiding in the bathroom. I closed the door so I could think without being stared at.
Now what?
Chapter Eleven
Fluffy was like an unexpected pimple the day of an eveningwear competition. As ugly and as painful as it may be, neither the pimple nor Fluffy were going anywhere soon. Fluffy wasn’t a bad dog. It was me; I’m a one-dog woman.
After quick shower, I threw on a pair of sand-colored cargo pants, a purple tank top, a hoodie and my flip flops. The dogs and I hopped in the Jeep and took a chance we’d find Darby at Paw Prints. It was time for a chat.
We were in luck. The “Open” sign hung in the door of the studio. I pulled into the empty parking spot behind the FedEx truck, which had selfishly staked out two spaces.
The three of us enthusiastically tumbled out of the Jeep, and the dogs instantly made a beeline for Bow Wow.
“Not today, guys.
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