By now we had an audience. Not just our small table of people. Oh no, half the room leaned in our direction, waiting for me to knock Tova on her beautiful butt.
I walked a fine line. Fleas aren’t deadly, but no one would knowingly expose their pet or themselves. I clenched and unclenched my fists. What to do, what to do…
“Melinda, what’s going on?” Mona Michaels and her Afghan Hound, Fluffy, paraded to our table.
Great. Trouble on six legs.
Mona ruled the rich and famous of Laguna Beach with the wave of her aristocratic hand and her elite American Express Black Card. She had her plastic surgeon on speed dial, injectable Botox in her purse and her private chef on a short leash.
Her simple black Valentino gown was most likely the envy of every woman at the ball. She was what the gated community housewives dreamed of being when they grew up.
Unfortunately for me, Mona and my mother were childhood friends. Mona thought that meant she could dictate, and I’d blindly follow. Not likely. I wasn’t a Mona fan.
From behind, Fluffy looked exactly like her human. A mistake I’d made more than once. Awkward.
Tonight, Fluffy seemed more haughty than normal. Her jeweled collar with a diamond-crusted, heart-shaped pendant sparkled like a mirror ball, and I’m guessing was equally as heavy. She looked like she couldn’t be bothered mingling with us average humans.
Too bad Mona didn’t feel the same indifference. She narrowed her assessing blue eyes at me and waited for an explanation.
Why she thought she’d get one was beyond me.
“Go back to your posse, Mona. Everything here’s just hunky-dory.”
Mona motioned to the crowd; her shocking white hair flowed softly around her razor-sharp cheekbones. “It is plain to everyone you do not have this situation under control, otherwise Amelia wouldn’t be cowering in the corner of the stage waiting for you to finish.”
As always, Mona’s condescending clipped voice raised my hackles.
“You may want to consider keeping your voice down,” Grey warned under his breath.
Too late. All eyes had followed Mona. Once she’d insinuated herself into my business, I had my reputation to protect. I turned my attention back to Tova.
“You still haven’t explained why I owe you money?”
“Well, I had to get Kiki groomed,” Tova stammered. Mona’s presence loomed over us, and Tova was beginning to crack. Amateur. If she wanted to make it here, she’d have to develop a thicker skin.
“And?” I could feel the weight of the room shift towards us waiting to hear the answer. Who knew dogs could be so quiet?
“My lawyer says you have to reimburse me for it.”
“Oh, hell no.”
Murmurs rolled through the room like Main Beach waves crashing against the rocks.
Tova stood her ground. “She got them while on your property. You have to pay,” she insisted.
I hiked up my gown, which pooled around my three-inch heels. I wished I was wearing my motorcycle boots. “You’re the only one with fleas.” I took a breath and tried to control my rising voice and cover the Texas accent that was threatening to make an appearance. “If this was a Bow Wow issue, someone else would have said something.”
“They’re afraid of you,” Tova whined.
“You’re ridiculous,” Mona pronounced with the wave of her hand.
“You’re out of control,” I said at the same time.
I don’t know if Mona was talking to me or Tova. I was talking about both of them.
Tova shook her head. “You don’t know what kind of nightmare I’ve been through. Kiki’s wardrobe had to be dry-cleaned, my carpet steamed, her travel bag replaced, and she had to be groomed a second time after her botanical dip.”
I’d had enough. “I do not have fleas!” I turned to the room, hands on hips and asked, “Did I give any of you fleas?”
There was a lot of throat clearing and minimal eye contact. No one said a word. It would have been comical if I hadn’t been so honked off.
I narrowed my eyes on Tova. “Looks like it’s just you.”
“Enough.” Mona pointed at Tova. “Take your dog and sit.”
“This isn’t over.” Tova looked between Mona and me like a confused puppy; her shoulders sagged, and her bottom lip quivered slightly. “You’ll regret pushing me around.”
“Does this mean you and Kiki won’t be by tomorrow to pick up the barrettes you special-ordered?”
“Melinda,” Mona said, “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll sit and stop causing a scene.”
“Don’t. As much as you like to worm your way into my life, and everyone else’s for that matter, you’re not my mother.”
Mona turned toward me. A glint of fire danced in her eyes. A chill of warning rolled down my back.
“True,” she said. “Fluffy earned her crown. I didn’t need to act like a dog in heat for the judges to see her true talent.”
That was it. The woman insulted me and my Mama.
Bitter emotion churned until it turned into a roar of fury. I yanked my wine glass from the table and tossed the deep ruby contents on Mona’s dress. Immediately, I knew I’d crossed the line. The fat was in the fire now.
Grey groaned in disappointment. Missy jumped out from under the table and barked, her crown rolling under my chair.
Everyone else was deathly silent.
Mona stood frozen, her hands in the air.
Then suddenly she hissed. “You fool.”
Fluffy tossed her pale tresses from her eyes and snarled.
The room erupted into chaos. People jumped up from their seats. They talked over each other, shocked, yet lapping up the juicy gossip of my behavior.
The dogs barked, Missy included. Canines turned on each other and their humans. Leashes wrapped around chairs, tables, and human legs, dragging everything behind them in their excitement.
“Don’t touch me,” Mona ordered to a handful of dimwits who thought they’d get into her good graces by mopping the wine from her dress.
I dropped to my knees to retrieve Missy’s crown.
“If you’d like to use the ladies room, I’d be happy to keep an eye on Fluffy,” Grey offered, his calm voice sounding out-of-place amidst the pandemonium.
I got to my feet, Missy’s leash in one hand her crown in the other.
Mona yanked the white cloth napkin Grey held out for her. She patted her dress as if taking a public wine bath was an everyday occurrence. “If you don’t leave now, I’ll call the police and have you arrested.” She quickly found her normal condescending voice.
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Are you kidding me? You deserved it. Everyone knows it.” I gestured toward the group of gawkers.
“Melinda, you’ve done enough.” Grey’s tone was tense and didn’t hold room for disagreement.
I whipped around. “You’re taking her side?” I felt like I’d been stabbed in the heart.
“No, I’m trying to keep you from going to jail,” he muttered.
I snagged my gold clutch from the table and shoved Missy’s crown on my head. Tears burned my eyes. “I’m sorry I’ve embarrassed you.”
I meant it. I was sorry. Of course, that didn’t change the fact that I’d just acted like an idiot. My snap judgment was in full throttle. Once in gear, it was difficult to apply the brakes.
He grabbed my arm and stopped my dramatic exit. “This isn’t about me.” He jerked his head toward the back of the room.
Caro looked like I’d just kicked her dog, Dogbert. Her face had turned the same color as the vintage red satin gown she wore. Her tightened lips formed a straight line and her snappy green eyes had narrowed into angry slits. Sam Gallanos, her date, stood silently at her side, his dark eyes studying me.
I’d forgotten all about Caro. I’d blindly embraced my anger and had completely lost sight of the fundraising goal for the Fur Ball.
Intense self-reproach latched onto my heart and squeezed. I wish I c
ould say it was an unfamiliar feeling. But I couldn’t.
I guided Missy through the mayhem with only one purpose in mind-to confront the only thing standing between me and a hasty exit so I could berate my lack of judgment in private.
“I didn’t plan on making a scene,” I said to my cousin. It was as close to an apology as I could manage at the moment.
Caro eyed the crown. Then the brooch.
Anyone else would have looked away and ignored me, casting me to social purgatory. Instead, her eyes locked onto mine, and she said, “You never do, sugar.”
I couldn’t argue. I’d left her one hell of a mess to clean up.
“You’ll need to call Nigel,” Caro’s soft southern accent hung on the family lawyer’s name.
I covered the brooch protectively with my hand.
“Are you fixin’ to sue me, cousin?” I asked, unable to keep the Texas out of my voice.
She shook her head and looked at me like I’d hopped on the crazy train, which apparently I had.
“Geeze Louise, Mel. You just humiliated Mona in public. You know she won’t let you get away with it.”
Chapter Three
After my outrageous behavior last night (yes, I admit I behaved badly), my shop was the place to be seen. It was crazy.
Melinda, the lead you sold me clashes with Chopper’s new outfit. I must have a new one. Melinda, why didn’t you tell me gold leather carriers are all the rage? Melinda, do you have more diamond-crusted collars? Can I special-order a pink mink snuggie?
And on it went. My clients were addicted to their dogs (and gossip). It was obvious their lives revolved around their pooches and their accessories. I loved the business, but it was exhausting.
If someone with significant height on the society ladder showed an interest in an accessory, I suddenly couldn’t keep it in stock. Everyone wanted what someone else had. The Oprah effect for pampered pet bling.
“Melinda, do you have the Prada collar in cantaloupe? Orange makes Diesel sad,” a newer customer asked.
I glanced at Diesel, a deaf Dalmatian. He looked outlandish in his Swarovski crystal sport coat and star-shaped sunglasses. He sparkled, shimmered and reflected with every shake. Trust me, the orange leather studded collar was the least of his worries. Diesel and his human needed some beauty queen intervention.
“Sorry, no cantaloupe. Try this.” I grabbed a flat-gold leather Prada collar instead. “Gold makes everyone happy.”
“Perfect.” She clapped her hands in delight, then deftly fastened the collar around Diesel’s skinny neck. “I’ll take two.”
I smiled at her enthusiasm. “Great.”
The door opened, and Mona Michaels strolled inside. Dark sunglasses, cream Chanel pantsuit, and a cloud of expensive perfume. No Fluffy.
In the chaos of the day, I’d forgotten all about Mona and the inevitable wrath I’d experience. Caro had hit it on the nose; Mona would extract revenge.
Tricia Edwards, Mona’s best friend and business partner, followed behind, carrying a sample case. The two were thick as fleas on a coonhound and just as irritating.
Tricia designed dog wear, but didn’t own a dog because they were messy. (That didn’t make sense to me, either.) Mona was the money behind Tricia’s label. The two had been badgering me for months to carry Tricia’s couture dog dresses. I’d finally agreed to meet with them next week to look at the inventory. I wasn’t holding out much hope.
“Melinda, I have a new selection of samples for you.” Tricia’s frosty voice cut through the fevered shopping chatter.
“Bring them to the meeting next week,” I said without giving either of them my full attention.
I gently wrapped Diesel’s second collar and rang up the sale. I slipped a couple of dog treats in the bag before handing it over. “I hope Diesel enjoys his new bling.”
His owner smiled broadly. “We will. Thanks. You’re still coming to Diesel’s Bark-mitzvah, right?”
“Absolutely. I wouldn’t miss it,” I promised.
“I’ll see you then.” Her smile faltered slightly as she brushed past Tricia and Mona.
“Mona’s unexpectedly free today,” Tricia pressed, setting her case on the counter. “You’re going to love them.” Her pushy excitement rang hollow in my ears.
“I’m swamped. Next week.”
I grabbed a box from behind the counter and headed for the front display case. I pulled out a handful of pink Juicy Couture collars with rhinestone charms from the packing material and restocked the shelves, keeping my back to the self-appointed mayors of Laguna Beach.
“Melinda, what are you wearing?” Mona’s haughty voice hung in the air like a guilty verdict thrust on an innocent man.
I took inventory of my typical work outfit. Black leather vest over my “Paws off!” t-shirt, motorcycle boots and, my most recent splurge, a pair of True Religion jeans. Even my hair was pulled back into a long sleek ponytail and out of my face.
“You have something against Yorkies?” I asked as I turned around.
“You’ve embroidered them on your…” Mona waved her sunglasses at my butt.
“You’d have preferred them somewhere else?”
“It’s silly,” she said.
“Not everyone’s bound by what others deem inappropriate.” Darby Beckett, my best friend for the last two years, closed in ranks behind me.
Unlike last night’s crowd, Darby represented the small faction of Laguna residents who don’t have piles of money. Originally from Nebraska, she didn’t always relate to the west coast shenanigans.
Darby owned Paw Prints, the pet photography shop next door. She’d had a last minute cancellation, and she’d graciously offered to pop over and help me with the mad crush of customers. God love her. Darby had the same Mona-chip on her shoulder as I did. Maybe even bigger.
Mona looked right past Darby. “Melinda, your mother would be appalled to see you dressed in secondhand throwaways.”
I sighed. Mona had me on that one. Mama would be aghast at my typical attire. “Where’s Fluffy?” I asked.
“Cliff has her,” Tricia said.
Cliff Michaels was Mona’s fourth ex-husband. They shared custody of Fluffy.
Fluffy wasn’t your average Afghan. She was a dog actor. In the past few years, she’d won two Daytime Emmys for a guest role on a soap opera. She’d played a Lassie type, saving the resident drama queen from drowning. Maybe the soap would still be on the air today if they’d have killed her off. The drama queen, not Fluffy. Never kill the dog.
Cliff, on the other hand, seemed like a nice enough guy, but after two years of marriage he’d had enough of Mona and had left their multi-million dollar mansion for a “modest” yacht he’d named Ruthless (Mona’s middle name was Ruth). Last I’d heard he’d docked the boat at Dana Point Marina, about twenty minutes south.
“Melinda, we have business to attend to. I don’t have all day,” Mona insisted.
I took a deep breath, well aware I couldn’t afford a repeat of last night.
“Mona, I have customers to assist. I will meet with you next week. Like we agreed.” One look around the shop, and anyone could see that my customers weren’t blazin’ a trail to pay up and leave behind the free entertainment.
“You don’t really want to cross me. Do you?” Mona tilted her head. Not much. Just enough to make her face look more intimidating than normal.
“We’re not afraid of you.” Darby’s bouncy blond curls slapped the side of her face. She stood next to me in an attempt to give the illusion of a united front.
Mona’s shrewd eyes locked on her. “You should be my little rabbit.”
Darby sucked in a sharp breath. She opened and closed her mouth, but no words came out. Her small frame vibrated in what I assumed was panic and anger. I squeezed my best friend’s hand.
“Mona, leave Darby out of this.” I kept my voice low, trying my darnedest to not make a scene. “If you have something to say to me, say it. Otherwise, get out.”
Dar
by wagged her finger at Mona, not willing to back down. “Some day, you’ll get what what’s coming to you.”
I could have sworn Mona stiffened, but it was hard to tell since she was already so unyielding.
Tricia stuffed her phone inside her Marc Jacobs bag and looked at Mona for their next move. We all waited.
Mona didn’t disappoint.
“When you continue to humiliate people in public, the only way for them to save face is to sue,” Mona slipped her sunglasses into the protective case.
“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.” Sue for what? Geez Louise. I didn’t have patience for mind games.
Mona casually adjusted her purse strap, and then thrust the figurative dagger into my back and twisted. “I called your mother last night. Babs and I had a wonderful time catching up. I talked her into coming out for a visit.”
I wasn’t afraid of Mona, but I was absolutely avoiding my mother (for the record, no one called Barbara Langston “Babs” to her face). I love my Mama, but she left me dog-tired.
“I’m sure you left out the part where you called her a prostitute,” I said. I had every right to be upset at my Mama, but for an outsider to insult her (and anyone who’s not family is just that, an outsider), was unacceptable.
I heard a soft gasp. I looked around the shop. There were at least five customers pretending to study the merchandise.
Mona shrugged. “I did no such thing. Besides, Barbara has moved past that.”
Just because Mama didn’t talk about The Incident, didn’t mean she was over it. She was southern. One didn’t air their dirty laundry in private. Let alone in public. Mona, on the other hand, didn’t have a problem dressing-down anyone in front of an audience. The bigger the scandal, the happier she seemed.
She had zero southern manners.
“We agreed. You owe me an apology. A public apology,” Mona continued, condemning me with every word and savoring every second.
“I hope you didn’t get your stone-heart set on that apology,” I said.
“You wouldn’t want to damage her reputation any more than you already have, would you, dear?”
Her arrogant tone choked me like a Texas heat wave in the middle of August. It took all the resolve I possessed to control my temper. “Get. Out.”
Get Fluffy Page 2
