He growls. And then he pees. I can hear it hitting the little pee pad I keep in there for that eventuality.
So much for pie and bacon. I take five minutes to use the bathroom and then step outside the front doors, whipping out my phone and dialing Information. Before I can finish asking for a number for a taxi service, a cab pulls up to the curb behind me. I’m kind of stunned over the weird coincidence until the driver gets out and shouts over the roof of his car. “You the lady with the dog who needs a ride home?”
Okay, so my heart warms a little bit at the idea that my rescuer actually did a pretty good job of rescuing me and Felix. He could have just driven away and left us hanging out to dry, but he didn’t. He called us a cab. Another surprise from the grizzly man who smells like a dream.
What? Did I just think that? Whoa.
“Yes, that’s me.” I make my way down the sidewalk and stop at the back door, pausing to put my bag inside before I climb in myself.
The driver gets in too and puts his seatbelt on. “Address?”
“Frankie’s Bar,” I say, “just a mile or two that way.” I wave in the general direction I remember coming from.
“Sorry, lady, no can do. I was told to take you home, not bring you to the bar.”
My ears start a slow burn. This taxi guy probably thinks I’m a drunk who’s been cut off by her sponsor. Dammit. I wait a few precious seconds before speaking, to be sure I’m not about to let fly a few choice cuss words.
“I don’t care what that Neanderthal said to you . . . I need to get my car, and it’s at Frankie’s. Take me to Frankie’s.”
The driver scratches at his head nervously. “He was real specific, though.”
“I don’t care how specific he was. If you want my fare, you’ll go to Frankie’s.”
“He already paid the fare. Added a tip in too.” The guy grins in the rearview mirror at me.
“How could he have paid the fare if he doesn’t know where I live?”
The guy laughs, staring out the windshield again. “He figured it was somewhere uptown, based on how you were dressed. Gave me the fare to cover an entire round trip up and back.” He turns around to face me. “Was he wrong?”
I roll my eyes, so pissed I’m that easy to read. I feel like maybe I should move downtown just to keep things interesting. Then I get pissed at myself for caring even one bit what a stupid grizzly beard thinks about my life.
“No, he wasn’t wrong. But if you think I’m letting you keep that fare for not doing what I ask you to do, you’d better think again. Either take me to Frankie’s or forfeit the fare. That’s the deal.” I glare at him.
The cabbie smiles. “He warned me you might give me trouble.”
“How could he possibly have done that?!” I’m yelling, but I don’t care. “He doesn’t know jack poop about me!”
The guy has the nerve to chuckle. “You sure about that?” He turns back around and shifts the car into drive. “You gonna give me the address or what?” He’s looking at me in the rearview mirror again.
I want to reach into the front seat and break it off, but instead, I decide to play dirty. Desperate times call for desperate measures. He’s forced me into this. I have no other choice. It’s time for the waterworks.
Great big blubbering sobs well up from deep inside me as my shoulders shake and my chest heaves. I’m fake-crying like I just watched the Titanic go down in person. I think of every sad thought or feeling I’ve ever had and own them completely. I could so win an Oscar right now if they gave them out for performances in the back seats of cabs.
“Ah, no, don’t cry!” He sounds as distressed as I’m pretending to be. I have to battle not to smile with triumphant glee. “I hate when ladies cry! Come on, just relax, would ya? It’s for your own good. He said that place ain’t safe for you right now.”
“But I need my car for work!” I sob. “I’m going to lose my job, and then I’ll have to move, and I have nowhere to go, and no one will help me, and I’m down to my last twenty bucks, so I can’t get a cab back in the morning, and my dog is sick, and he’s probably going to have an accident in my purse because he ate some bacon, and bacon doesn’t agree with him, and—”
“Hey! Hey! It’s okay! I’m going to take you to your car, okay? And then I’ll just . . . I’ll just follow you home or whatever, and make sure you get there, okay? That’ll work, right?” He twists around and drapes his arm over the back of the front seat. “Okay? That’ll work for me. I can do that.”
I nod, letting out a few more sobs so he doesn’t suspect I’m not completely devastated over the idea of my dog pooping in my purse. Yes, it would be a tragedy, but not one I’d cry over. I have other bags. Besides, Felix’s poops are about the size of Ikea pencils.
We pull out of the diner’s parking lot, and I make a big show of wiping my tears away and sniffling. I don’t stop until we get to Frankie’s bar. There are cop cars parked at the curb, but no uniforms outside that I can see.
“Thanks,” I say, patting the taxi driver on the shoulder as I slide across the seat to get out. “No need to follow me home. I’m sure I’ll be fine. See?” I point out the window. “Cops are here.”
“Yeah, okay. See you later.” He sounds stressed. I’m not sure if it’s because of my Oscar-worthy performance or the fact that he’s not doing what he was paid to do, but I don’t care; I’ve got my car back and I’m going home.
I shut the door behind me and open my purse so I can find my keys. The distinct odor of doggy pee hits me in the face.
“Oh, for chrissake, Felix. Did you have to?”
He licks my hand.
I sigh, wrapping my fingers around my keys. “I am so going to kill Jen when I see her.” Glass of wine, my butt. I’m going to drive over there and give her a knuckle sandwich.
CHAPTER FOUR
I’m halfway to my sister’s place before I take a sharp right and head over to my house instead. I’m tired, Felix stinks, and I have a big family coming in tomorrow for portraits and my studio isn’t set up for them yet. I need to get to bed early. This is the only job I have booked for the entire month, so I can’t flake out and be a no-show.
My mind wanders as I make my way through the neighborhood streets. Those texts I got from Jenny make no sense. How could she have gone from being completely off the range to saying, “Come have a glass of wine with me”? It’s like she’s two different people today. Or someone hijacked her phone.
Then it hits me. Yes! A hijacking! That’s the only explanation that makes any sense. My sister’s not a crazy alcoholic. She never endangers her kids, and she wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like Frankie’s. Someone else must have her phone, or the lines got crossed when she got that new one today.
I’m so happy I could cry. This is so much better than having her committed and taking her kids away from her.
Speak of the devil . . . my phone beeps again. I tilt the screen toward me as it rests on the console by my radio.
Jen: I told you to leave your car in the lot.
A split second after reading those words, it’s like there are fireworks going off in my brain, explosions of light and sound, a jumble of thoughts and words and images. Nothing makes any sense. This message has to be from The Beard, but how is he using my sister’s new phone to text me?
Then it hits me.
He’s not using my sister’s new phone to text me.
He’s using his phone.
He’s always been using his phone.
Oh my god. Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod. It can’t . . . it didn’t . . . it . . . oh my.