by Mike Faricy
A brown and white camper was parked at the far corner of the field and we drove over in that direction. The camper seemed to age the closer we got to it. There were patches of rust above all four wheels. The dash board appeared to be littered with papers and maps. The side view mirror on the passenger side held only half a mirror and the passenger door was dented.
The door into the camper was centered on the rear of the unit and had glass louvers that theoretically could be adjusted for air flow. The bottom louver was missing and the next two were held together with duct tape. There was a bumper sticker stuck crookedly on the back of the camper next to the door that simply read, “Uppity.”
The bumper sticker rang a bell and I remembered seeing the camper parked in the driveway the first night I met Natasha. I pulled alongside and climbed out.
“Morton, watch the car for me while I go meet with our new clients,” I said careful not to mention Princess Anastasia for fear Morton might attempt to jump through the window.
He seemed content to just lie in the back seat. He raised his head when I spoke, but then settled right back down when I closed the door. I’d have to remember French toast as a calming breakfast for him.
I had to knock a few times on the door before Natasha finally called out.
“Who is it?”
“Dev Haskell, Natasha. We were going to meet at ten this morning.”
“What time is it?”
I pulled my cellphone out and checked the time. “It’s about ten after ten,” I said.
“Already? Oh it can’t be. All right, just give me a minute and I’ll be with you.”
I had the feeling I may have woken her up. It was more like twenty minutes before she appeared and when Natasha opened the door you had to wonder what she’d been doing for the better part of a half hour. Obviously make up and getting ones self looking presentable had never entered the picture.
She was dressed in grey sweatpants that looked like they hadn’t seen a wash since this time last year. The knees were soiled as if she’d crawled across the polo field for a good fifty yards. The sweat shirt was grey, but a different shade of grey. It appeared to be soiled as well, but more from what looked like chunks of food, some sort of sauce splatter and one large red wine spill. The cuff on the right sleeve was torn and frayed.
She still had a semblance of bed head, hair standing up on one side and completely flat on the other. It was sort of tangled and knotty and looked like she just ran her fingers through her hair instead of using a brush.
The door squeaked loudly as she stepped out. She placed a foot on the bumper and sort of half jumped to the ground, landing with a groan and taking a couple of quick steps just to keep her balance.
“So, Haskell, we’re meeting at ten?”
“Yeah, we spoke on the phone last night. Do you remember?”
“Of course,” she said, but in such a way that I thought she probably had no recollection.
“We discussed me taking on the position and you said you were going to draw up some paperwork”
“Right, I think I’ve got it on the table, somewhere. Won’t be but a minute,” she said and climbed back into the camper. It was more like ten minutes before she climbed back out. She was wearing lipstick and eyeshadow now, sort of a nuclear pink lipstick and the eyeshadow, another shade of pink, only seemed to accentuate the bloodshot eyes. Her hair was still a mess and she clutched a two page document held together with a large paper clip.
“Here, read through this contract just to make sure it all makes sense.”
I took the paper and began reading. The initial paragraph covered the top two-thirds of the first page and was simply a laundry list of Princess Anastasia’s blood lines starting with the paring of Constable and Lady Zsa Zsa De Wallen over fifty years ago.
I read through the next six paragraphs, none of which consisted of more than a sentence or two. The second page of the contract had a large round stain in the lower right hand corner that looked suspiciously like red wine. Natasha had already signed and dated the document.
Basically, all I had to do was make sure she, Natasha, could work with Princess Anastasia, uninterrupted for eight hours per day until they went to the Blessington show. I was allowed a forty-five minute lunch break, but I was required to eat on location, wherever the location was on any specific day. I would be paid upon completion of my duties.
It seemed simple enough and I signed on the line.
“Let me just get this notarized,” Natasha said then pulled a notary stamp out of the pocket of her sweat pants, stamped the document and then signed the signature block on the stamp.
“Here, you might as well keep this damn thing, I know what it says.” She handed me the notarized, wine-stained document. I folded it in half, then half again and stuffed it into my back pocket.
Ten minutes later she was drilling Princess Anastasia out in the middle of the polo grounds over and over in a series of routines, from walking alongside her at a fairly brisk pace to leaping over obstacles using hand commands. Even as someone who isn’t into dogs and training I have to say it was pretty impressive. If this was all I had to do for the next week it would be a cakewalk.
A little after two they took a break and walked back to the camper. I’d been sitting on the back bumper wishing the clock would tick a little faster. Still, getting paid for doing absolutely nothing was just fine with me.
“Well, Mr. Haskell, we’ll be taking a short lunch break and then starting up again in forty-five minutes. You’ll of course maintain your position,” Natasha said.
“Not a problem. I have to tell you that was pretty impressive. Especially the hand commands.”
“Yes, well thank you, consistency is the key. I may ask for your assistance this afternoon.”
“My assistance?”
“Nothing much, I would like you to provide a slight distraction as we go through our moves, you see. It would simply consist of you clapping your hands and letting her become used to fools attempting to create a distraction.” She was suddenly over emphasizing her Ivy league accent and clenching her lower jaw again as she spoke
“I can be a good fool,” I said.
“No doubt,” Natasha said, but didn’t comment further.
Chapter Twenty-Three
They worked until six that evening. I did my part and played the fool, clapping and calling the princess whenever I got the nod from Natasha. By the end of the afternoon I felt almost as well trained as Princess Anastasia.
“Thank you, Mr. Haskell, I’d invite you in, but we’ve got quite the journey this evening. I would like to meet at the same time tomorrow, ten o’clock.”
“I’ll be here,” I said.
“I’m afraid that won’t do.”
“No?”
“No. Do you know Lake Phalen? The park over there?”
“Yeah, I think I know where you mean.”
“That’s where we’ll be.”
“Okay, so you’re heading home now?”
“No, I’m working on the assumption that a moving target is more difficult to find. So we’ll be staying in here,” she nodded at the camper. “Until we are registered at the show at which point I’ll be staying there.”
“Have there been problems since the other night?”
“Let’s just say I’m playing it safe and leave it at that, shall we?”
“Does this have anything to do with Tommy Allesi?”
“Among others.”
“If you’re worried about something or someone in particular, Tommy Allesi for example, it would be nice to know so I can keep an eye out.”
“At this stage I’m worried about everyone. I’d appreciate it if you would be wary of everyone and anyone who might approach. There’s a good deal of wagering that follows this competition, not to mention the potential cash cow once Princess Anastasia wins Best of Show and I make her available for breeding. And, we do intend to win, Mr. Haskell you can rest assured of that.”
“So you’re
going to do what? Remain here over night?”
“No, we were here last night. I believe I explained the moving target concept just a moment ago. I intend to be somewhere else this evening, please don’t take offense, but I think the fewer people who know where we’ll be the better. Now, I’ll plan to see you tomorrow at Lake Phalen, ten sharp. Questions?”
“No, I guess not.”
“Of course. It might be wise if one were to arrive with a lunch tomorrow.”
“I’ll be sure to do that.”
“I bid you adieu, Mr. Haskell,” she said then opened the door to the camper for Princess Anastasia and followed her inside. I heard the dead bolt slide into place from where I stood.
As I approached my car it suddenly dawned on me that Morton had been locked in there for the better part of eight hours. I opened the driver’s door and my first thought was where did all the leaves come from? Then I realized it was bits of foam. Lot’s of foam. Morton had pretty much chewed up the passenger seat.
“You gotta be kidding me, Morton what the hell were you thinking? Did it even taste good? You idiot.”
He refused to look me in the eye.
“Morton, damn it, look at me. You are one stupid son-of-a-bitch.” I grabbed him by the snout and rubbed it into a pile of foam. “No, no, bad dog, bad dog,” I said, but to tell the truth my heart wasn’t in it. I was the one who’d left him to his own devices and now I paid the price.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Morton sat sheepishly in the back seat all the way home. My phone rang just as we were pulling into the driveway, Heidi’s new ringtone, Blondie’s “Call Me,” ‘Cover me with kisses….’ It had been about three weeks since we’d been together. I knew she’d started dating some hairdresser and three weeks was right about at the point when things suddenly seemed to always go sour in her new relationships.
“Heidi, long time, darling. How are things?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“That bad, hunh?”
“You wouldn’t believe it. I’ve got a fund that’s seriously under performing. My phone’s ringing off the hook with investors who want to jump ship because of missed projections, I have to take my car into the shop tomorrow, the floor in my living room is being refinished and can’t be walked on for twenty-four hours, and my love life crashed and burned this noon.
“That hairdresser guy? What was his name, Alphonse?”
“No, Alexi, and don’t ever mention that worthless scum bag again.”
“That bad?”
“He got me out of a meeting for an emergency phone call.”
“He okay?”
“He just wanted to dump me,” she said, then screamed, “On the fucking phone, can you believe it?”
“What in the hell is he thinking? God, I’m sorry to hear that, Heidi. Honest,” I tried to sound sincere.
“Yeah, sure you are, not. And don’t go telling me that you warned me he was a snake. Believe me, I’m well aware of it.”
“Okay, I won’t mention the fact that I warned you,” I said and let that just hang out there.
There was a long pause and I thought I heard sniffles. Then Heidi said, “Dev, can I come over tonight? I can’t sleep in my house with all the fumes from the floor being refinished. I’ll wake up and be brain dead or something. I’m sorry, I guess maybe you had a point and I should have listened to you earlier.” Huge admission from a person who never makes a mistake.
“Forget what I said, Heidi. Yeah, I suppose you could come over. I gotta warn you I’m not alone. I….”
“That didn’t take long, a couple of days. You know what, forget it, it serves me right thinking I found Mr. Right who turned out to be a complete jerk off. I deserve all this shit and….”
“Will you calm down and just listen. Yes, I want you to come over. No, I’m not alone. I’m watching a friend’s dog for a couple of days. So Morton is here.”
“Morton, that’s the dog’s name?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, he sounds so cute,” she said sniffling and then suddenly sounding all cheery.
“Cute? Really? Believe me he’s anything but, as a matter of fact right now he’s in the dog house with me, pardon the pun.”
“Oh stop it you big crab. I’ll pick up dinner and wine. See you about eight?”
“Eight works for me. I should tell you I’m working with a client and we have to be out of here by about 9:30 tomorrow morning.”
“Not to worry, I’ll be gone long before that. I’m back in the fray with an investor meeting first thing.”
“Okay, see you whenever you get there.”
“Bye, bye, bye, bye,” she said and hung up.
I twisted round to look at Morton lying in the backseat. He turned his head away so he wouldn’t have to look at me.
“You are on thin ice, pal. And by the way, you’re back on that horseshit, healthy dog food that Maddie packed for you. Cheeseburgers, Bar-B-Que potato chips, pork rinds and beer are a thing of the past where you’re concerned, buddy. And you can forget about Princess Anastasia, too.”
Morton sat up and stared at me, his tail was slowly moving from side to side just waiting for the go ahead from me before he started wagging. “No. No way. No, Morton, no.”
That got him looking dejected and he put his head back down on the seat and refused to look at me.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Vintage Heidi, she arrived about forty-five minutes late. She had three bottles of wine, enough Thai takeout to feed ten and a large soup bone for Morton.
I met her at the front door and took the bag of wine and the shopping bag full of takeout food. She had a new hair style, again, sky blue on the top before it morphed into a darker blue on the side, from there it changed to burgundy, then fire engine red, until the final quarter inch became pink along the very ends. It was parted on the left flowing across the top of her head and hung down to her right shoulder. Both sides and the back of her head were her natural brown hair color, I think. They’d been shaved to about an eighth of an inch long so it was tough to tell. I tried not to stare and focused on the two large bags with all the food and wine.
“Heidi, all this food, it’s just you and me.” At which point Morton walked into the front hallway and introduced himself by inserting his nose between her legs.
“Oh, this must be Morton, he’s adorable. Did you teach him this move?” she said giving him a good rub behind the ears. Morton’s tail banged excitedly off the door frame and walls.
“Yeah, right. He’s still in deep weeds with me. He basically ate the entire passenger seat in my car today.”
“You’re kidding, how long did you leave him in there?”
“That’s not the point. Don’t you think after the first bite he’d catch on that it didn’t taste that good?”
“So in other words you abandoned him, didn’t you?”
“He was just in there for a little bit.”
“Sure he was, I’m guessing hours. You’re just lucky it wasn’t hot out or he could have died in there. I could ask what in the hell you were thinking, but it’s obvious you weren’t. Sorry, but it’s your own fault, Dev. Don’t blame this poor guy,” she said and began giving him hardcore rubs and scratches behind the ears.
“Hey, I could go for some of that action,” I said.
“What you can go do is bring this food out to the kitchen, open a bottle of wine and pour me a glass while I bring my clothes in. I’ve got that early pain in the ass meeting tomorrow morning and I’m going to have to leave from here. There’s something for Morton in the bag, too.”
I had a glass of wine waiting when she returned. She had a conservative looking dress and blouse in a dry cleaning bag along with a suitcase on wheels and a makeup case. Just hanging there in the dry cleaning bag the conservative outfit seemed to clash with her bizarre hair style.
“You staying the week?” I asked and handed her the glass of wine.
“We’ll have to see how you behave.”
I didn’t want to stare at her hair so I took the dry cleaning bag and her luggage and ran them upstairs to the bedroom. I quickly changed the sheets and tossed the old ones into the closet then went back down to join her in the kitchen.
Morton was in the far corner of the kitchen attacking his soup bone. Heidi was sitting at the kitchen counter and had this look on her face that said, “Go ahead, get it over with and ask me about my hair.”
I chickened out and said, “So how’s the wine?”
“If it wasn’t good I wouldn’t have brought it.”
I’d been here uncountable times before and knew there was a battle on the horizon if I didn’t nip it in the bud. “So you want to tell me about the breakup?”
At the word “breakup” she moved her eyes involuntarily toward the top of her head, took a big double gulp of wine and said, “Don’t ever mention that scum bag to me ever again. I don’t want to talk about it. Ever.”
“Okay.”
“Look at what he did to me. He’s made me the laughing stock of the entire nation. Four hundred million people think I look ridiculous.”
“That number might be a little high.”
Her eyes flared at me and she drained her glass. I was afraid she was going to throw the empty at me, but instead she thrust it out and said, “I’ll have another.”
I quickly filled her glass and considered myself lucky.
“The bastard said he had this cutting edge, avant-garde style and I’d be the first woman with it. He failed to mention I’d also be the only woman stupid enough to trust him.”
“That might be a little harsh.”
“Not by half,” she said and gulped more wine.
“I’m getting used to it, it’s kind of cool, I like the way the color flows and it works well with your eyes.” I didn’t add especially when they look ready to kill, which at the moment they did.
