You Lucky Dog

by Julia London

  Victor pressed his lips together and stared at the screen. He ran his hand over the top of his head then said, “What inspired me was a paycheck. What I thought of the outcome? Stupid and lame. Frivolous.”

  “Whoa!” Carly said, and laughed. “Victor is kidding, Kristie—”

  “I’m being real with you,” Victor said, and looked at Carly. “Look, I know that disappoints you. You think I’m not disappointed in myself? But when I look back, all I can see is someone who has been inspired by a paycheck instead of art. I need to be inspired by art.” And with that, he stood up and walked out of sight of the camera.

  Carly looked at Kristie. Kristie was staring back, wide-eyed with surprise and a bit of delight. “Wow. Is someone having a bad day?”

  “Can I call you back in a few minutes?” Carly asked.

  “Sure!” Kristie said. She was grinning, as if she was thoroughly enjoying the story she’d just stumbled into.

  Unfortunately, there was no talking to Victor. He told Carly he’d thought a lot about it, about what was wrong with him, why he couldn’t create, and he didn’t want to talk about it. Carly told him he was making art, that every piece he sewed was art, but Victor didn’t want to hear it. He said if she was going to “run her mouth,” she could leave. Carly was going to run her mouth, so she left.

  She and Baxter sat on a bench outside and she called Kristie back. Kristie took her call, but it was clear she was not going to leave out a single detail in her story. “I hear the pressure can really get to these young designers once they reach fame.”

  Oh really? Did you hear that, Kristie? “Victor is working really hard for the New Designer Showcase, and it’s a lot of stress. As you can imagine, there is a lot of interest in him, and these interviews are added pressure. You know, the artist likes to create and doesn’t want to waste time talking about it.”

  “Uh-huh,” Christie said. “Well, thanks, Carly, for setting this up!” she chirped, and hung up the phone.

  “Damn it damn it damn it,” Carly groaned. She fell back against the bench.

  Baxter hoisted his front paws onto the bench and licked her arm, then laid his head in her lap. She sighed and bent over to hug him. “You always know the right thing to say. Who’s a good dog? You’re the best dog, Baxter.”

  * * *

  The day had turned overcast, and the air was damp and cold when Carly met Max at the dog park. They sat on a bench in contemplative silence as Baxter and Hazel explored. Max looked as tired as Carly felt, as if he, too, had been aged in a single day. She felt weary to the bone, really. Her life continued to collapse around her and now, her buoyant little raft with Max had sprung a leak. She tried to assess his mood. He smiled, but it seemed like he had to make himself do it.

  He took her hand in his. “So this thing on Sunday.”

  “Yeah,” Carly said. “Should be interesting.” She picked at some lint on the sleeve of his professorial sweater. “My mom has been texting photos of wedding gowns all day.”

  “Wedding gowns. Wow.” He squeezed her hand. “Honestly, Carly? Last night, I thought sure, we can weather this. Today, I can’t wrap my head around any of it.”

  “You and me both.” She leaned her head against his shoulder.

  “Is it weird that I’m not prepared to see my dad with anyone but my mother?”

  “Not at all. Is it weird that I wish my parents were still together?”

  “Nope. Should we just . . . I don’t know . . . take the dogs and run away to Costa Rica or something?”

  “Live on the beach?”

  “Eat coconuts for breakfast.”

  “Fish for our supper.”

  “Start a fire to cook the fish and talk about maybe building a tree house. With a dog elevator, of course.”

  “Yes,” Carly said. “We should go right now, this very minute, before things get crazier. Or, maybe, we hold off until after Sunday so we see for ourselves just how crazy this is.”

  “Sure, why not,” he said wryly. “Jamie is coming over tomorrow so Dad can”—he flicked his wrist—“go on a date.”

  “Shoot me,” she muttered.

  “No way.” He put his arm around her shoulders. “You’re my only ally right now and I would miss you so bad.”

  “Same,” she said softly. “What are you and Jamie going to do?”

  “I’m going to plug in one of the dog show DVDs and work on my presentation. I got an email today. It’s next Thursday.”

  “But I leave for New York on Wednesday. I won’t be here!”

  He chuckled. “Don’t worry about it. I’m probably going to want to drown my sorrows in a few beers and, since I can’t hold my liquor, I’ll probably be sorry company.”

  “Max, you never know—”

  He stopped her before she could give him a speech. “But I do know. I’m not being fatalistic, I just know how these things work, and the bottom line is that she is the stronger candidate. Hey, don’t be sad for me,” he said, and playfully pinched her chin. “I’ll buck up. It’s not like I’m losing a job. It’s a setback, that’s all. Anyway—how is your boy wonder?”

  “Where do I begin?” Carly asked. “He shaved off his rainbow hair. And he was wearing a polo shirt.”

  “My God,” Max said, and pressed his hand to his heart. “What malign influence has befallen him?”

  “Hilarious, professor. It may not seem like a lot to you, but for a guy like Victor to shave his head and put on a polo shirt? Instead of something he’s made to express himself? I’m really worried about him. The showcase is next Friday, and if he doesn’t make some clothes now, he’s going to have nothing to show.”

  Max frowned. “Can he make clothes in a week?”

  “No! I mean, I don’t know, but it seems impossible to me. He says he can. He said he created a beautiful red collection in, like, four days, but he worked around the clock to do it. I don’t know if he will do that now.” She stared up at the gray of the early evening sky. “All the press and publicity I have lined up is flitting out the window, one by one. I’ve had to cancel so much because he has nothing to show. And then, today, he did a Skype interview with Entertainment Weekly and told them he thought his red-carpet looks were frivolous and he was in it for the money. The kid is a train wreck right now, and I get it, I do, and I feel bad for him. But at the same time, I am so angry, because I have worked really, really hard.”

  “I’m sorry, Carly,” Max said softly. He pulled her tighter into his side. “Man, did we stumble into a regular Peyton Place or what?”

  “No kidding.” Carly sighed.

  They returned to staring into space. Carly thought of herself in his house, lying in his bed, staring out the window into that pretty backyard, thinking that for once, something spectacular was happening for her. That it was finally her turn.

  It wasn’t her turn at all. She wondered if it would ever be her turn. “We are, like, the two most unlucky people on the planet, aren’t we?”

  He chuckled darkly. “If we’re not, we’ve got to be running a close second or third.”

  They didn’t say any more than that.

  There didn’t seem to be anything more to say.

  Twenty

  When Sunday afternoon rolled around, and Max and Jamie arrived at Evelyn’s home, Max could not deny that Dad and Evelyn looked like a couple in love. Their happiness had taken years off his dad’s face and Max was happy for him. But, like Carly, he was also a bit resentful. Why this now?

  He and Jamie had come with flowers. Jamie thrust the bouquet at his dad, but his dad said, “I think you meant those for Evelyn, didn’t you, Jamie?”

  “Loyal Dad,” Jamie said, and thrust them at his dad again.

  “That’s okay,” Evelyn said, and took the bouquet. “Aren’t they lovely! That was so considerate of you!” She suddenly surged forward and kissed Max on the cheek as
if she’d known him for ages instead of days. And then she made the mistake of trying to do the same with Jamie. Jamie made a sound of alarm and ducked out of the way.

  “Oh. I beg your pardon,” Evelyn said. She twirled around and disappeared into her house with her flowers.

  “It’s all right, Jamie,” his dad said, his voice full of warning. “Come in, you two.”

  Evelyn’s house, just around the corner from a shopping center with a Target as the anchor, was much bigger than the Sheffington house. The yard was filled with bird feeders and fountains. It occurred to Max that he didn’t know where his dad and Evelyn were going to live. He had a hard time picturing his father here. He was an old Austin kind of guy. North Austin seemed like the land of PTA and retail sales and neighborhood restrictions.

  The house had a sunken living room and an expansive view of the yard. Evelyn’s tastes were definitely antique and formal. Far too formal for the Sheffington boys. His mother used to say the one thing she would never have on this earth was fine furniture, because why would she pay all that money on something her boys were going to break?

  He could hear that somewhere in the house there were children, and then suddenly, they burst forth, three of them streaking by, one of them screaming at the other two. Jamie caught Max’s arm. He was humming to himself, a technique he’d been taught along the way to calm his nerves.

  A woman, blond and petite like Evelyn, but who resembled Carly in her features, emerged from the kitchen in the company of a tall, athletic Asian American man. “Hi!” she said, striding forward, her hand outstretched. “I’m Mia. Soon to be your new sister!” She laughed. “My husband, Will, and those three hellions are Finn, Bo, and Millie.”

  “Very nice to meet you,” Max said, and shook Will’s hand. “This is my brother, Jamie.”

  Jamie turned the other way, avoiding eye contact.

  “Who’s here?” a male voice shouted from the hallway.

  “That’s Trace, my brother,” Mia said as a man walked into the living room. He was dark haired, like Carly, with a stocky frame. “But don’t worry about remembering him. He only comes at Christmas.”

  “It’s not Christmas now, and I’m here, aren’t I?” Trace looked at Max, sizing him up. “So you’re Toby’s son?”

  “Sons,” Max said, indicating Jamie. He wondered if any of them had noticed Jamie’s humming. He sure did—it was getting louder.

  Trace studied Jamie for a moment, then seemed to remember himself. “Good to meet you.” He shook Max’s hand, then tried to shake Jamie’s. Jamie ducked behind Max.

  “He’ll warm up to you,” Max said apologetically. “New things take some time.”

  “Max, darling, would you like something to drink?” Evelyn trilled from the doorway to the kitchen.

  So he was a darling now. Congratulations, your stepmother thinks you’re darling. “No, thank you,” Max said.

  Trace’s phone rang, and he took the call, moving away from them to the windows.

  “Are you sure?” Evelyn asked. “This is a celebration! Gin and tonic?”

  “Max isn’t much of a drinker,” his dad said, appearing at Evelyn’s side. “But he’ll take a beer. Won’t you, Max?”

  “Sure,” Max said. He didn’t want a damn beer.

  “I’ll get it,” his dad said. He kissed Evelyn, and she tousled his gray hair, and Max thought he was going to have to sit down before he passed out.

  “Guys, there is a lot of PDA going on in here,” Mia said.

  “Well? We’re in love,” Evelyn said dreamily.

  The front door opened just then, and Carly banged in with Baxter. Her hair was mussed like she’d run all the way here, and she was wearing a shiny aquamarine dress with little flower appliques that looked . . . different. As usual, when it came to Victor Allen’s clothing, he had questions.

  “There you are!” Evelyn said.

  “Sorry. I got caught up with Victor.”

  “Obviously,” Evelyn said, looking at her outfit.

  One of the kids appeared and ran straight for Carly, throwing himself at her legs and almost knocking her over and causing her to drop Baxter’s leash. “Oof,” she said, catching herself on the kid. “Hello, Bobo.”

  “Good boy,” Jamie said, and went down on one knee. Baxter eagerly trotted to him.

  The child who was wrapped around Carly’s legs apparently spotted his sister with something that belonged to him and shrieked, “That’s mine!” and took off again.

  Carly straightened. She tried to smooth out the thing she was wearing and smiled warmly at Max. “Hi, Max. Hi, Jamie.”

  Jamie had taken a seat on the floor and didn’t look at Carly. Baxter had arranged himself across Jamie’s lap to take full advantage of the attention.

  “Hey, Sis.”

  Trace was still holding the phone to his ear, but he sauntered across the room, put one arm around her, and hugged her. He looked at her dress. “Hold on, Jerry.” He pulled the phone from his ear and gestured to Carly’s dress. “What the hell is that?”

  “It’s call art, Trace.”

  Trace snorted. “Don’t think so,” he said, and put the phone back to his ear. “Go on, Jerry.”

  “So! Now that everyone is here, Will and I have some news!” Mia said brightly. She put her arm around her husband’s waist. He was grinning widely. “We’re pregnant!”

  Someone screamed and Baxter leapt off Jamie’s lap and began to bark in response. It took Max a moment to realize it was one of the kids, who had somehow found their way into Evelyn’s backyard.

  “I’ll take this one,” Will said, and walked outside.

  Jamie scrambled to his feet and began to rock back and forth. “Too much noise,” he muttered. “Too much noise from all the boys.”

  “Oh, you made a rhyme,” Evelyn said cheerfully.

  “It’s cool, Jamie,” Max said softly.

  “Hello?” Mia demanded. “Is no one going to congratulate me?”

  “Mia, seriously?” Carly said. “You can hardly handle the three you have. You complain you have too many kids all the time.”

  “Carly! I had a couple of bad days, that’s all.”

  “Well I, for one, am thrilled,” Evelyn said. She picked up a tray of appetizers and began to swan around the room in her caftan. “You can’t have too many grandchildren.”

  “Congratulations, Mia,” Max’s dad said.

  “Thank you, Toby,” Mia said, and glared at Carly. “See, Carly? It’s not that hard.”

  “Congratulations,” Carly said. “I’m just a little taken aback is all. Four is a lot.”

  “Congratulations,” Max added, just as Will returned to the room.

  “Thanks, man,” Will said. He was still beaming, clearly happy about this turn of events.

  Evelyn brought the tray of cocktail weenies speared with toothpicks to chunks of pineapples around to Max and Jamie. It looked like something right out of a dusty old 1950s cookbook. Jamie grabbed several and Max had to ask him to slow down. Max, on the other hand, could hardly look at the appetizers.

  The kids raced through again, Millie shrieking at Finn for taking her doll and Finn laughing maniacally.

  “I rest my case,” Carly said, gesturing to Mia’s children. Mia shrugged.

  “Too much noise,” Jamie said.

  “Toby, when did you plan to grill the burgers?” Evelyn asked.

  “In about thirty minutes,” he said, and sipped from a cocktail glass. Another new development—his dad was drinking cocktails now.

  “Well, now is a good time, isn’t it?” Evelyn asked, and put down her tray.

  “Oh no. No no no.”

  Carly spoke so softly that no one else but Max heard it. He had to agree with her—there was never going to be a good time for whatever was about to happen.

  Evelyn took Dad’s han
d and pulled him into the middle of the room. “Trace? Could you please put the phone down?”

  Trace looked up to everyone’s attention on him. “Gotta bounce, Jer. I’ll call you in a few.” He clicked off and gestured to his mother to continue.

  “Will? Could you summon your children, please?” Evelyn asked.

  “Kids!” he shouted.

  Jamie put his hands over his ears. “Too much noise from all the boys,” he muttered.

  The kids came running, Millie still crying, and took seats on the floor before their parents.

  Evelyn, apparently pleased with all the undivided attention, wrapped both arms around Max’s father’s waist, leaned her head on his shoulder, and said, “Toby and I would like you all to know that we have set a date!”

  “I thought you said we didn’t have to go,” Trace said instantly.

  Evelyn lifted her head and glowered at her son. “No, Trace, you don’t have to go, but I thought you’d at least want to know when your mother is getting married.”

  “Oh. Sure.” He glanced down at his phone.

  “When, Mom?” Carly asked.

  The two lovebirds exchanged a look. “Next weekend.”

  “Next weekend? Like, seven days from now?”

  Max knew that Carly was the one who had shouted that question, but he shouted it just as loudly in his head. He and Carly exchanged a look of panic. He said, “Dad, why the race to the altar?”

  “Good question, dude,” Trace said to his phone.

  “Too much noise from all the boys,” Jamie muttered. He was rocking back and forth, and Max wanted nothing more than for this to be over so he could get his brother out of here.

  “I have to agree,” Mia said. “This weekend seems really soon. Does Dad know?”

  “What?” Evelyn said. “What on earth, Mia?”

  “Dad,” Max said, “can you postpone this?”

  “Why are you all so against this?” Evelyn asked. “We are two grown adults who know what we want. We are eager to get on with our lives together, so why would we delay it?”

  “If you’re worried about your brother, Aunt Sandy is going to come and stay,” his father said. “Now listen, all of you. We know this is sudden. But we are happy and in love and, like Evie says, we want to get on with it. We want us to be a family. We’d like to propose a Thanksgiving feast to celebrate our marriage and our new family.”