The Chihuahua Affair: Best in Show

by Amy Jarecki

  Just like running football plays. I can do it.

  Amanda watched with a critical eye. “You’re looking better.”

  “Thanks.” He walked toward her.

  “Um.” Amanda folded her arms and hugged her body, biting her lower lip. “Remember when you promised that you’d just be friends with Momma?”

  Matt stopped short. “I remember promising that I would never take her away from you.”

  “You really like her, don’t you?”

  Matt nodded, walking the Shih Tzu in a circle. “Yes. She’s very special.”

  “Are you going to ask her to marry you?”

  Matt’s toe caught on a seam in the rubber mat and he stumbled forward. He clenched the lead and bit his lip. “Do you want me to?”

  “No.” Amanda’s eyes wandered to the mirror. “I still want things to stay the same.”

  “Things have a way of changing sooner or later.”

  “Sometimes I still hate you.” Her voice became a whisper.

  An arch to one brow, he picked up the Shih Tzu and leaned against the table. Did Mandy want to talk about what’s been bothering her? He cleared his throat. “You do? Tell me, what’s to hate?”

  “Momma likes you.”

  “And that’s a reason to hate me?”

  Amanda looked up and met his gaze. “I can’t explain it. I know it’s not logical, but it’s how I feel.”

  Matt rubbed the back of his neck. “I’d like it if you could look at me as your friend.”

  “That part’s okay. You’re kinda cool.”

  “So, it’s just the mom part that’s bothering you?”

  “Yeah. I guess so.”

  “You’re funny.” Matt shook his head and passed her the dog. “You walk the Shih Tzu down-and-back and let me watch. Maybe I’ll learn better as a spectator.” He wondered if he’d made any ground with this conversation. How could Amanda be so conflicted? If her mother were out of the picture he’d be Joe Cool. Did she need a psychologist to help her sort it out? How would she feel about him next year when she’s away at college?

  Amanda floated along the floor as she approached leading the Shih Tzu but she leaned into Matt with a wicked glint in her eye. “What I really wanted to say is, watch it when you’re in New York with my mom.” She tossed him the lead and traipsed out of the shed.

  That made more sense. She was obviously aware that Matt and Rebecca would be off to New York without her as a chaperone. Matt threw his head back and laughed out loud.

  ***

  Since Matt had a bigger car, they loaded the dog crates into the Lexus and drove to Secaucus across the Hudson River from New York. There they met Jack and Alan in a commuter parking lot.

  Jack looked at the back of the Lexus and gaped. “How many dogs did you bring?”

  “Eight including Patches.”

  “Mother Mary, do you think they’re all going to fit in the limo?” Alan asked.

  Rebecca held her hands up. “Are you kidding? I could fit my entire living room in a Hummer stretch limo.”

  “We didn’t bring any client dogs this year,” Jack said.

  Alan gave Rebecca a nudge. “We just brought three Paps. Trying to get some notoriety for our kennel.”

  “After the Philly win, I’ve got more business than I can handle,” she said.

  Jack shot her a hungry look. “Send them our way if you can’t take them all.”

  “Good thinking. I’ll do that.”

  A silver Hummer stretch limo turned into the lot and Matt flagged it down. A tall man of Italian descent, dressed in a black suit and tie with a chauffeur’s cap stepped out. “Good afternoon, I’m Guido.” He rolled his r’s.

  Alan stared him down like a succulent piece of prime rib. “Oh my God. Where did you get that hat? It is absolutely perfect.” Alan swiped the hat off the driver and puckered his lips in a “male model” pose. “Jack, I need a hat like this for the ring.”

  “Yes, you could totally play the indentured servant.” Jack egged him on.

  “But you have such nice hair,” Rebecca said removing the hat and handing it back to Guido.

  “They always like this?” Matt asked under his breath as they headed to pull the crates out of the Lexus.

  “Uh huh. Just wait until the movie.”

  “What movie?”

  Rebecca handed a crate to Guido. “Didn’t I tell you? We all watch Best In Show the night before Westminster.”

  “That doesn’t seem odd.”

  “But we act out the parts.”

  Matt shut the hatch. “Right. That’s a little weird. Let me guess, they play gay guys?”

  Rebecca smiled and handed Matt a heavy pink grooming kit. “You pick up quickly.”

  It was late Friday afternoon and the limo turned into rush hour traffic. Fortunately, most of the vehicles in the Lincoln Tunnel were heading out of New York and they would not have to sit for hours in crawling gridlock.

  Matt craned his neck, trying to catch a glimpse of what lay ahead. “I’ve never been in the city.”

  All eyes turned to him like he was an alien from Pluto. “Well, this is definitely a special occasion. Rebecca, have you got sight-seeing on your agenda?” Jack asked.

  “I’ll have to think of something.”

  Alan reached over and patted Matt on the leg. “We could show you around. We’re well known in certain circles.”

  “More like notorious.” Jack laughed.

  Rebecca cleared her throat. “I think we’ll stay out of the gay bars, boys. Matt would probably rather see the Statue of Liberty or the Empire State Building.”

  The limo shot through the tunnel into Manhattan onto Thirty-Fourth Street. Taking a right on seventh, they pulled up in front of the Pennsylvania Hotel. “There’s the Garden and Penn Station.” Rebecca pointed down Thirty-Third Street.

  “Right across the street from the hotel?”

  “Yep. That’s why we stay at the Pennsylvania. They also host the Toy Dog Show.”

  Jack leaned in. “And they allow dogs. That’s always a problem with hotels these days—too many irresponsible people out there.”

  “Too many careless ignoramuses. You’re so right, Jack,” Alan’s echo followed as usual.

  Matt grabbed a porter and stacked the dog crates on his luggage cart. With retro décor, the hotel foyer invited them in with a cream colored marble floor, the reflective mirrors framed with palms and grand chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Odd. There were shops lining the lobby, giving it the feel of a transit hub rather than a stately old hotel.

  Rebecca led him past guests sitting on black leather benches to the check-in desk where they stood in line corralled by black nylon barriers like those found in airport security. Matt watched the activity while they waited. There were several people walking dogs through the lobby. He spied a coffee shop and the entrance to Lindy’s. It looked like a restaurant.

  After standing in line for over an hour, they checked in and the bellhop followed them into the elevator with their eight barking dogs in tow.

  Rebecca handed Matt his key. “Our rooms are right across the hall from each other.”

  “Great.”

  The elevator door opened and they followed the bellhop to their rooms. “Remember to put plastic down under the crates.”

  “Of course.” Rebecca used her key and pushed open her door. The room erupted in a cacophony of barking dogs. She slammed it shut and shot a panicked glare toward the bellhop. “There’s got to be a mistake.”

  Matt opened his door. The room was dark, beds made, no dogs. “We could put the dogs in here.”

  The bellhop pushed the cart inside and started unloading. “Good idea. Give me your key, ma’am. I’ll run down to the desk and ask them to sort this out. You shouldn’t have to stand in that long line again.”

  “Thank you.”

  Matt handed him a tip. “You’ll have the front desk call us?”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

  Rebecca frowned
. “All right. We’ll set up the dogs in here, and then you can take the other room.”

  Matt handed her the room key. “That’ll work.”

  Rebecca started laying down plastic sheeting while Matt took a turn around the room. The décor had a retro seventies look. The bedspreads were striped tan, chocolate and gold. A gold chair perched in the corner. On the wall across from the beds was a dark brown desk with a chair and a television. Matt walked back and flipped the light on in the bathroom—it was worse. “It’s definitely a fifties retro look in here.”

  “I don’t think it’s retro. This is New York, there’re a lot of older buildings.”

  Matt helped her move the crates onto the plastic when the phone rang. Rebecca snapped it up. “Hello?”

  Her face flushed and her eyes looked like they would pop out of her head. “You’ve double booked? Exactly how does that happen?”

  “I need another room.”

  “You don’t have one? Well, you need to find one. What about the Holiday Inn?”

  “Of course I know it’s Westminster weekend. That’s why I’m here.” She covered the receiver with her hand and rolled her eyes toward Matt. “Morons.”

  Matt slid onto the bed beside her. “We could share—there are two beds.”

  “I can’t believe this.” Rebecca hung up the phone and drew in a deep breath. “I’m so sorry, but I don’t think there’s another choice. We’re going to have to share.”

  Matt bit his lip to hide his delight. Rebecca was obviously riled. To him this situation was ideal—a snafu by the hotel management. What was one to do?

  Rebecca slammed her fist on the bed. “I can’t believe I’m being forced to impose on you like this.”

  Matt grabbed her shoulders and pulled her between his legs. “Do you think for one second that this is upsetting to me?”

  “I’m furious.”

  “I’m not.”

  Rebecca stopped and studied him. “You’re not?”

  “I can do this.” He cupped her face in his hands and softly kissed her lips. “And don’t have to worry about who’s watching.”

  A guttural laugh came from the back of her throat, her eyes downcast. “I was afraid of that.”

  “We’ve kissed a lot before. Why are you afraid?”

  Rebecca twirled away and started stacking the crates on the plastic.

  Matt took one from her hands and finished the job. “Becky?”

  She looked up, face stricken. “The kissing, well that’s been nice. Really great. But sharing a room, that’s a big step. I’m not…” She stopped mid-sentence and carried her suitcase to the bed closest to the window.

  Matt wanted to hear more. What could he do to reassure her that the hotel snafu was a blessing? He slid beside her and put his arm around her shoulders “You’re not what?”

  She fiddled with a zipper on her suitcase. “I’m not sure I’m ready to go, you know, beyond kissing.”

  Matt squeezed her tight. “How about you dictate the pace? If you just want to kiss, that’s fine. I may have to take a few cold showers but I’ll follow your lead. Deal?”

  She nodded, giving him a thoughtful smile. “Deal. As long as you promise not to use up all the cold water.”

  Matt threw his head back and laughed. “I don’t think things will get that bad.” He pulled her around to face him and kissed her. She closed her eyes and fell into his embrace, her mouth yielded to him. Her body supple in his arms, Matt’s desire thickened below his belt. He wanted to see her naked. He wanted to take her to the heights of passion that he knew she’d locked away deep in her heart. If only she would let him break through.

  In the back of Matt’s mind, he struggled to understand the clear conflict between how Rebecca physically expressed her emotions and how she verbally expressed them. Maybe the whole family needed a psychologist.

  Nah.

  Rebecca pulled back and smiled. “Let’s get something to eat and I’ll show you where the Toy Dog Show will be tomorrow.”

  “Great. I saw a restaurant in the foyer.”

  “Lindy’s? Maybe for lunch or breakfast. This is New York. Let’s grab a taxi and go down to Little Italy. I feel like an N.Y.C. brick oven pizza.”

  “Pizza? I thought you’d go for steak tartar or something.”

  “Usually I would, but the best Pizza this side of the Atlantic is in Little Italy.”

  Rebecca let Matt hail the taxi and then asked the cabbie to drive them to Florio’s on Grand Street.

  She followed Matt out of the cab. “I prefer New York in the summer when you can walk for hours and the vendors in Little Italy have their wares out for sale.”

  Too bad it was February and blowing an icy-cold gale. Matt held the restaurant door. “No matter, we’re here to experience the most amazing and frenetic dog show in the world.”

  Rebecca rubbed the outside of her arms and grinned. “Sure are. Things will get crazy in the morning and stay that way.”

  The maître d’ seated them at a small table for two facing each other. Matt would have preferred to sit next to Rebecca. Ah well, this would allow him to gaze upon her beautiful face. He would never grow tired of watching her expressions and those deep pools of indigo, which so exquisitely expressed her inner machinations.

  Matt ordered a bottle of Chianti and Rebecca selected a pepperoni pizza with black olives. The waiter poured a splash of wine from the squat bottle covered in raffia. Matt swirled it in his glass and sniffed the bouquet. He sipped the ruby liquid and rolled it across his tongue, his taste buds bursting with the fruity sangiovese grape flavor, swallowing, the familiar complex aftertaste of spicy aged cedar remained. He nodded his head. “Good.”

  As the waiter filled the glasses, Matt flashed back to Bloomsburg and Rebecca’s frantic dash to the hospital after Ryan was hit by the car. “Remember the last time we had Chianti?”

  “Ha. I would prefer to forget.”

  Matt lifted his glass. “To big wins and happiness. May the next few days be uninterrupted.”

  “I hear that. Cheers.”

  Their glasses met with a crystal bell and their eyes held an unwavering gaze while they drank. Rebecca inhaled deeply as if she were letting out days of pent up stress. “This is the calm before the storm.”

  “Yes? We should relax and enjoy then.”

  “Most handlers only bring three dogs to the Garden.”

  “Really? Why have you got eight?”

  Rebecca smoothed her hands over the napkin in her lap. “I couldn’t say no. And I need the money.”

  “Handling pays well, does it?”

  “Yes. Now that I’ve won Philly, I can charge top dollar.”

  Matt lifted his glass. “That’s awesome. You deserve it, too.”

  “The big handlers have a bevy of apprentices working for them. A lot come from the junior showmanship ranks like Mandy.”

  “So, what’s your plan? Will she work for you when she goes to college?”

  “I don’t know. She got accepted to Rutgers, so she’ll be close enough to come home on weekends.” Rebecca took another sip of wine. “I know a couple that hitch up a motor home and tour the country during show season. They’re both top handlers and from the size of their rig, I think they’re doing well. Come to think of it, I’ve never seen them use apprentices but they always manage to juggle a pack of client dogs.”

  He studied the soft curve of her neck. Her skin looked like fresh cream—he wanted to taste it. “Sounds like a fairytale life. Touring the country in between dog shows and getting paid for it.”

  “It has its ups and downs. Being on the road for six months can take its toll.”

  Matt finished his wine and reached for the bottle, topping up Rebecca’s glass and filling his own. The first glass of wine started the hint of an unwinding buzz. He grinned at her as she watched him. She smiled back, her deep pools of blue reflecting feelings that a million words would be unable to express.

  He glanced down at the slender hand with well-manic
ured but modest fingernails and placed his large, rough hand over hers. His midsection stirred to life at the touch, her skin so supple compared to his. The moment drew out with no need for words. Sitting with her, watching her made him feel like a man. He needed to tell her but would she push him away? He could not bear the thought of her rejection.

  The waiter appeared with the pizza, breaking the magnetic field between them. Matt used the spatula to serve Rebecca first. With thin crust and a modest amount of cheese, Matt wondered why she liked it so much, but when he bit into his slice, his eyes widened. “This is delicious.”

  “It’s the sauce.”

  “Yeah, it’s like they used fresh tomatoes.”

  “Glad you approve.” Rebecca chewed daintily. “Hey, what did you say to Amanda at Christmas? It’s had my curiosity for weeks.”

  Matt wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Ha. I just told her a story about how I made an ass of myself over a girl when I was in college. I jumped to conclusions and nearly punched some nerd’s lights out when all he was doing was helping her with biology.” He picked up his wine glass. “I mentioned that people jump to conclusions all the time, but a mature person knows how to see past it and shrug it off.”

  “Mature person? That would have piqued her attention. You can do that more often if it’s a sure-fire way to pull her down from one of her rants.”

  Matt ordered a second bottle of wine against Rebecca’s protests. He reasoned that since neither had to drive, they could enjoy a bit more. By the time they left, they were arm-in-arm, laughing about life in general, too absorbed in each other to notice the cab driver take several unnecessary turns to crank up the meter.

  When they finally arrived at the hotel, Matt gaped at the price. “What-the-hell? This fare’s three times what it cost to get there.”

  The cabbie shrugged. “I don’t know. Traffic.”

  Matt grabbed his wallet and shelled out just enough for the ride. “You just lost your tip, buddy.”

  The cab driver started cursing in some foreign language and Matt slammed the door. Rebecca tugged on his arm but he really wanted to go back and teach that guy a lesson. How could he come to his country and take advantage of people? Was it necessary to watch every turn? He never used a cab in Los Angeles but in this city, he guessed it might be.