Karma's A Bitch (A Pet Psychic Mystery)

by Esposito, Shannon

  He nodded to her, grabbed his cup and left without another glance my way.

  Some other time? What did that mean? Okay, weird.

  “Next,” the girl called.

  ***

  “Here we go.” I slid the tray on the table and placed a steaming ham and Swiss cheese omelet in front of Mad Dog with a cup of black tea, then a second one on the ground for Karma. “Should be able to gum some eggs,” I said, as the drooling mastiff stuck his face in the dish. Entertainment at its finest.

  “I can’t pay you back.” An uncomfortable, dark expression flashed across Mad Dog’s face as he ripped open a raw sugar packet.

  “You are paying me back by keeping me company.” I stirred honey into my white tea, mala bead bracelets clacking on my wrist. “I’m the new girl in town, remember?”

  “Sure. Thank you.” Mad Dog nodded, slid an arm around the plate and moved a forkful of steaming omelet toward his mouth. “We appreciate your kindness.”

  I bit into a buttery croissant and eyed my breakfast company. “So, Mad Dog, what’s your story?”

  “My story?” he asked, around a mouthful of food.

  “Yeah, everyone’s got a story, right? What’s yours?”

  His weary eyes searched my face. The whole social aspect of human interaction, and how much butting in was polite, still baffled me. Maybe I had crossed the line?

  Then he shrugged. “Persian Gulf and Iraq war vet turned homeless bum. Not much to tell.” His slow, self effacing words were hard to swallow. Thick waves of despair washed over me.

  I sipped my tea, forcing down the lump and waited for the emotional storm to subside.

  After an uncomfortable minute, it did. “Well, that’s not very nice.”

  His shoulder moved slightly and his expression stayed neutral. “The world ain’t nice.”

  “The world is what you make it.” At least that’s what I’ve always believed. Of course, it was easy to believe that back home, in our controlled corner of the world. But what about here in this balmy, enchanting city with a history and trajectory of its own?

  Mad Dog sat back, scrubbed his mouth with the paper napkin and studied me. “You grow up with money?”

  I popped a few blueberries into my mouth and crunched, holding his gaze. “I suppose, yes.” Though I never did like where that money came from. Or should I say who it came from?

  “Then you were sheltered from the real world, Darwin.”

  I didn’t want to admit it, but his words stung. Being sheltered was part of the reason I’d left home. I moved here to change that. And I liked hanging around Mad Dog because he didn’t judge me. Was I wrong? I moved my gaze across Beach Avenue to the sun-dappled park. “Well, you could teach me about the real world then.”

  “I wouldn’t wish what I know about the world on my worst enemy. Let alone a kind soul like you.” He managed a small dry smile, though his eyes remained sad. “Thanks for the meal.” He stacked our plates and stood. Karma pushed himself up, yawned and stretched.

  “Sure,” I said. “Same time tomorrow morning?”

  Mad Dog eyed me with caution, lifting his back pack from the ground. “If you have something that needs done at the store. As long as it doesn’t require staying indoors too long.”

  “Deal.” I could find something for him to do. Not indoors though? Hmmm. Why ever not? Mind your own beeswax, Darwin. Not something I excelled at. “Okay. See you two in the morning. Bye, Karma.” The dog swung his head around with a big, panting grin. I watched them cross the street then headed back to the boutique. Almost time to open up.

  CHAPTER THREE

  By Thursday I was exhausted but happy our first week open was going so well.

  Just from walk-by traffic and word of mouth alone, Sylvia’s grooming book filled up for the next three weeks, which she celebrated with a box of apple and lemon tarts. We also had a good idea of which products were going to be a hit in the area. These folks definitely liked to pamper their pets and we definitely enjoyed helping them do it.

  I busied myself in the boutique straightening up and signaled “five minutes” to Mad Dog as he wiped down the glass double doors. It was the only thing I could come up with outside, but it made him comfortable enough to accept breakfast for his effort. We had grown into this easy routine. He would show up at seven, we would do the morning duties and then head over to Hooker Tea Company for breakfast before I opened up.

  This morning, I got a small shock when I stepped out to greet them.

  “Good heavens, Mad Dog, what happened to your face?” A bruise had formed a purple half-moon under his eye.

  “This ain’t no biggie, Darwin. Always trouble to be found when other people are involved.” He leaned the squeegee handle against the front door. I noticed he was babying his right side, too.

  “Well, did you file a police report, at least?”

  He just shook his head and walked with a slight limp on our way to breakfast. I kept eyeing him sideways, my concern mounting as I thought about his situation. It must have been a big guy to get the jump on Mad Dog—or lots of guys. He and Karma made a formidable target. I remembered how quickly he had pinned me down on our first meeting. What kind of skill and strength would take to actually hurt him?

  I carried out our usual omelets and slid into the chair under the umbrella. “So, you know, if you need a place to stay for a few days, you’re welcome to my couch.” I fiddled with the tea timer, hoping I wasn’t crossing that line again. I didn’t have much experience with people period, let alone people in Mad Dog’s situation.

  “I’m not really an indoor type guy, Darwin, and you shouldn’t go around making offers like that to homeless guys. They can be dangerous. Could get yourself hurt.” He dropped a croissant on Karma’s dish. “You can’t be so trusting.”

  I watched Karma sniff it then go back to his omelet. I waved him off. “You’re harmless.” Why was he homeless, though? He seemed perfectly capable of holding a job, mentally stable. Drug problem? Police record? Okay, I would just have to be nosey. “What does that mean, exactly, ‘not an indoor guy’ and where do you stay then?” I had assumed in a shelter. Don’t cities have shelters for people with no place to go?

  “Military shrinks call it PTSD. It just means screwed up.” He shrugged in that self-depreciating way that made my heart ache. “I was involved in door to door urban battles so I prefer to be out in the open now. As far as where I stay, you don’t know about Pirate City?”

  Pirate City? Was he pulling my leg? Swallowing a mouthful of warm tea, I shook my head.

  “Not part of the tourist attractions so I’m not surprised. Just a bunch of homeless people in tents, unmoored from society and trying to survive day to day.”

  Tents? I glanced at him to make sure he wasn’t joking. “So what do y’all do for things like food and clothes?”

  A dark cloud passed over his face. “Whatever we can.”

  I grew silent. Karma finished his breakfast, burped and rested his fifty pound head in my lap. I tensed up and waited. No image. No influx of energy. I usually only got zapped by animals who had suffered recent trauma—emotional or physical, big or small. Karma was a happy dog. I stroked his velvety ear.

  Did Mad Dog mean illegal stuff? Is that why he wasn’t willing to file a police report for getting beat up? Did he try to steal something and get caught? Guilt crept in. Why did I automatically jump to something illegal? Am I judging him because he’s homeless? This interaction out in the world was so complicated. Just to clear my own conscience, I asked out loud, “So, nothing to do with drugs, right?”

  “Naw. I managed to stay clear of that nightmare. I’m one of the lucky ones. Been sober for five months, too. Being responsible for another soul has been a life-saver. Ain’t that right, Karma?” Mad Dog shook his head at Karma, who cocked an eyebrow his way but didn’t move his head from my lap. “I think someone has a crush.” He drained his cup and reached down for the licked-clean plate.

  “I think someone just appr
eciates a good meal,” I laughed, scratching under his ear with one hand and wiping at the drool on my leg with the other. Too bad scientists haven’t come up with something useful for dog drool, like spackling houses.

  “Speakin’ of…” Mad Dog pulled a twenty dollar bill from his pocket and shoved it under my empty plate. “This one’s on me today.” I started to protest but he stood up. “I insist. Come on, Karma. Time to go, boy.”

  “All right.” I frowned. “I guess I should say thank you, then. See y’all tomorrow.” Karma huffed after Mad Dog as he crossed the street. I picked up the twenty and sighed. He should have used it on something he needed. Well, I’d just buy some supplies for Karma and give them to him tomorrow. I considered his injuries as I walked back to the boutique. Maybe I should buy him some aspirin, too.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  We were in the last hour of a busy day when Sylvia strolled up to greet a new customer.

  “Aí what precioso bebês!” She plucked a tiny long coated Chihuahua from the girl’s pink croc doggie purse. Another one popped her head up. Soon other customers had surrounded them, ooooing and ahhhhing over the puppies. “What you need for these babies?” Sylvia asked, cuddling one under her chin and stroking the one huddled in the purse.

  The girl flicked a curly, auburn lock off her shoulder. “Well, my boss, Frankie Maslow, these are her new puppies, and she heard about the flower essence therapy you have here. She wanted me to get something that would help them adjust to their new home. Little buggers whine all night.”

  “Ah, Frankie. Okay. This, you would need Darwin for. Darwin!” Sylvia called.

  “Yes?” I stepped out from behind the counter, where I had been watching the exchange while opening a fresh shipment of botanical shampoos and flushable poop bags. “Cute babies! What can I help you with?”

  “Eu sei, couldn’t you just eat them up?” Sylvia kissed the one in her hand on her glistening nose and placed the pup reluctantly back in the purse. “This lady needs something for her boss’s pups to help calm the bebês, help them adjust to their new home and sleep at night.”

  “Sure, no problem.” I eyed her leather mini skirt and biker boots. “Why don’t you have a look around, see if there’s anything else you need while I get that for you.”

  On my way to the back, I plucked a bottle of fish oil from the top shelf for an elderly lady cradling a plump poodle who was about to bring the whole shelf down on herself. Mental note: People shrink with age, and St. Pete did used to be known as “God’s waiting room.” I needed to lower the shelves.

  “Here we go. Honeysuckle, Mariposa Lily and Cosmos.” I showed the girl the bottles before wrapping them in tissue, timing my words between her gum snaps. “Four drops a few times a day, massage into the pups’ skin. Should have them sleeping like babies by the end of the week. I’ll put a discount card in your bag. When they’re ready for a grooming, Sylvia will be happy to take care of them.”

  “Sure. I’ll take these, too.” She dropped some organic chews on the counter along with two tiny, glow-in-the-dark t-shirts.

  “Those are fabulous!” Sylvia swooned. “Please tell Frankie Sylvia Alvarez said ‘hi’.”

  “Will do, thanks.” After one last cuddle from Sylvia, the pups disappeared out the door.

  “Charming girl. You know her boss?” I asked.

  “Everyone knows her.” Sylvia moved closer and lowered her voice. “Frankie Maslow was homeless then she won the lottery four years ago. Thirty million, I think. Afortunado! Took a lump sum of seventeen million. Now she look down on St. Pete from the Vinoy. But,” she held up a finger. “She has not forgotten. Every Sunday morning, she go to Mirror Lake and hand out hot meals to the homeless. She has a good heart but some, they try to stop what she is doing. They say she is encouraging them to sleep downtown and residents are apreensivo…afraid of them.”

  “Sounds complicated.” I’d like to meet this woman. Maybe we could pair up and do a charity dog wash or something to raise money for the homeless. Ever since I’d met Mad Dog, I’d been brainstorming for ways to help.

  ***

  Friday had finally arrived. I watched Mad Dog limp across Beach Drive and frowned. The chores could wait. I stepped out into the morning sunshine, locked the doors behind me and crossed my arms. Karma spotted me and lumbered in my direction, his large rump and tail wagging slowly.

  “Good Mornin’.”

  “Don’t you good morning me, Mad Dog.” I shook my head at the purple knot on his right cheek bone. I had watched all week as he arrived with fresh injuries and I’d had enough. “I’m taking you to the police station and you are going to report whoever is doing this to you.”

  “Can’t do that,” he sighed. “It’s my own fault.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  He dropped his head. “Maybe I shouldn’t come around anymore. I don’t want to upset you.”

  “What? No!” My chest squeezed at the thought. “All right. I’ll stop asking you to go to the police if you promise that you’ll think about telling me what’s going on with you. It’s just hard seeing you like this every day.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  I glanced down at Karma. He didn’t look very happy either. “All right. Let’s go get breakfast.”

  When we were situated with our food at the table, Mad Dog turned to me. “So, what’s your story?”

  “My story?” I plopped my chin down on my hand.

  “Yeah, everyone’s got one, right?” He brushed an ant off the table.

  I raised an eyebrow as he gave me a rare smile. “Are you teasing me?”

  “No, I really want to know.”

  I stirred my tea and shrugged. “All right, what do you want to know?”

  He watched a group of bicyclists navigate Beach Drive and then turned back to me. “Well, for starters, how’d you get a name like Darwin?”

  “Oh, going right for the jugular, huh?” I grinned. “Well, if you really want to know, my mom got knocked up with me at seventeen and named me Darwin to be spiteful to her overbearing, religious parents.”

  He stopped chewing and stared at me. “Seriously?”

  “Yep.”

  A laugh escaped him that startled Karma. “That’s great. I think I’d like your mom.”

  I hadn’t ever heard him laugh before. It was nice. “Glad I could be your entertainment this morning.”

  “Where’s your family? Carolinas?”

  “My mother was raised there, yeah. But I grew up in Savannah. The southern twang gave me away, right?”

  He nodded. “So, what brought you to St. Pete?”

  “Sylvia.” I chewed and swallowed a bite of omelet. “We met on a bulletin board. We were both attending an online business school. Just hit it off and kept in touch. When she had an idea for a pet boutique, she ran it by me. I had the money to invest in it with her and so, here we are.”

  “And your family was okay with you leaving?”

  “You mean escaping?” I frowned. “No. But, I’m hoping they’ll forgive me eventually.” I downed the last of my tea and wiped at the sweat trickling down my bare neck. I may have to switch to iced tea tomorrow. “So, what about you? Your family from here?”

  A haunted look gripped him, like he had just remembered something terrible. “My parents are gone. No siblings.” He reached down and picked up Karma’s empty plate. Karma took this as his cue and grunted as he pushed himself off the ground and stretched.

  Oh, I forgot. “Hey, Mad Dog? You know Frankie Maslow?”

  “Mama Maslow? Yeah, sure. Good lady. Millionaire and still takes time out to feed people. Why?”

  “Oh, I met her assistant yesterday. She brought in Frankie’s new puppies. I was thinking about asking if she wanted to team up for a fund raiser for the homeless. Is that something you think she’d be interested in?”

  Mad Dog rubbed his buzzed scalp and stood. “Sure, I guess. Just stay clear of her boyfriend, Vick. Guy’s bad news.”

  “Thanks for t
he tip.” I watched him shrug a shoulder into his backpack. “Hey, you be careful.” He waved without turning back. I did realize how ridiculous it sounded. Me telling this military trained tough guy to be careful, but I really was worried. What’s going on with all the injuries? And why were they his fault? I had to find some way to make him open up.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  I rose with the morning sun and decided on a bike ride to Mirror Lake to see if I could talk to Frankie Maslow. I missed my sisters more on Sundays. Sundays back home had been something we always looked forward to. No work, just pancakes and gardening and girl talk. Neither one of my sisters were speaking to me right now, though. They couldn’t understand why I needed to leave, why I wanted to leave. Being “different” had never been a problem for them. I, on the other hand, wanted a normal life surrounded by people who considered me to be normal. I could only hope that one day they would understand.

  It was another gorgeous June morning, filled with the sounds of light traffic and bird songs. The sky was a soft metallic silver, brushed with wispy gray clouds as I steered onto the Third Avenue sidewalk. A few early risers perused the area. The ride to Mirror Lake should only take fifteen minutes but I had packed an iced water bottle, a bagel and some fruit in case I had to wait for Frankie to show up.

  As I approached the road that circled around Mirror Lake, a ferocious barking echoed off the surrounding buildings from the other side. My muscles tensed. Could I outrun an angry dog on a bike? I hoped so. I steered off Mirror Lake Dr. and onto the sidewalk, my curiosity piqued as the barking grew more insistent.

  As I rounded the final bend, I could see police cars in the gated parking lot and a crowd of people in the grass. When I pulled around behind the police cars, I dropped my bike and weaved my way through the crowd. What was going on? Two of the officers had their guns drawn and pointed at the lake. A few others were trying to get the spectators to back up. I wasn’t real comfortable around guns but I was even less comfortable with an animal in distress.