by Josie Brown
Bettina frowned. “Dog? No, the cupcake is for me, and I’d like a chocolate one.”
The clerk laughed appreciatively. “Yeah, I know! The stuff in here looks good enough to eat, doesn’t it? Take a peek at this one.” He pulled a cake box off the shelf behind him and held it open for her. The round cake’s caramel-hued icing had been whipped into stiff waves and was inscribed: Happy Birthday, Wags!
For the first time since New Year’s Eve, Bettina laughed out loud.
She turned back around to read the signpost protruding from the shop’s bay window:
Le Marcel Bakery
for Dogs
She took a good look around the shop. Her mistake was an easy one to make. Small tables bore trays of what looked like bonbons and cookies. One open box was labeled “ruffles” and held what could have easily passed for chocolate truffles. Tins of delicacies that looked like biscotti and bags of tiny pretzels filled the shelves along its sweet pink- and coco-hued striped walls.
Granted, the number of patrons with fluffy little dogs tucked lovingly in the crux of their arms should have been a giveaway, but this was San Francisco, where pet-friendly merchants were the rule, not the exception. And in most cases, four-legged friends were treated better than some people.
Deservedly so was Bettina’s opinion.
The clerk’s grin was tantalizingly flirtatious. “Still want that pupcake?”
No, she thought. Instead, I want someone to play with, someone to cuddle.
Someone worthy of my love and devotion. I want someone who will love me unconditionally. And forever.
“Maybe,” she answered him in the coy, breathy voice she hadn’t used in ages.
Not since she’d set her sights on Art.
I sure know how to choose ’em, don’t I? she thought, as the vision of Art rose in her head.
Yes, it was Art alright. Making lust to Kelly.
Right then and there, she decided she wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.
At that moment, a man walked into the shop. The dog with him was a grand beast, long-snouted, tall, with a massive chest and a thick, bushy coat, the color of rust. Had it not been walking on all fours, it could have passed for a bear.
Bettina glanced at the clerk. As tempting as he was, males with four legs were much more loyal than those with two.
And easier to discipline—and neuter.
As for getting a female dog, no way. Bettina knew there was room for only one bitch in the Cross household.
Bettina honored the clerk with a come-hither smile. “I’ll need a puppy first, won’t I? So, tell me. Where do you think I’d find one like that big boy over there?”
The clerk nodded appreciatively. “Caligula? Yeah, he’s a beaut, alright! A Tibetan mastiff. In fact, I know his breeder. And you’re in luck. Mama’s got a litter due any day now.”
Bettina watched as he scribbled a name on one of the bakery’s order forms. His fingers were large and thick.
Nothing like Art’s.
But as tempting as the manboy was, Bettina knew a puppy was a much better way to go.
Less merde to clean up after.
Besides, she couldn’t wait to tell Lily they were getting a dog. It wouldn’t make up for the lost ballet skirts, but hey, it was time Lily learned that life was filled with tradeoffs.
The newest members of the Pacific Heights Moms & Tots Club were about to learn that as well. In hindsight, the Onesie members’ initiation had been a cakewalk. Why else would Lorna have made it through and with flying colors?
Well, no more pussyfooting around. It was time to make the Onesies members prove they were truly worthy of the honor of belonging to PHM&T!
And Art would learn his lesson, too, most certainly the hard way.
The paddle in Bettina’s purse was just one of the ways she could prove her point.
Chapter 3
Friday, 4 January
8:14 a.m.
“What do you mean I don’t qualify for unemployment benefits?” Jillian Frederick’s hand was shaking so hard she could barely hold the phone to her ear.
It had taken her almost an hour to get more than an automated voice on the line, someone who could actually answer her questions about how to file a claim. Within that hour, her cell phone beeped because its battery was low. To top it off, someone had just texted her. No doubt the waiting text was zapping her juice as well.
“Sorry, my dear, but them’s the breaks.” The Unemployment Office clerk practically yawned in Jillian’s ear. “You worked for, like what…two months? And for minimum wage at that. What did you expect?”
“My husband left me and our two babies a few months ago. It was the only job I could find!”
“Seriously, hon, I feel for you. But I’m not Dear Abby, and the Unemployment Office isn’t your parents’ ATM.”
“This is an emergency! I may lose my house! I supported my husband through college, so I’m sure my benefits from back then still count, don’t they? Listen, can you check and see how far back you can go?”
Just then one-year-old Amelia yanked a branch of the Christmas tree so hard that three glass ornaments fell and cracked. Both she and her twin sister, Addison, wailed in union.
As Jillian scooped both girls up into her arms to cuddle them before they grabbed at the glass shards, the cell phone fell out of her hand, hitting the cold marble floor with a loud crack.
“Oh my God! Are you—are you okay?” Jillian could barely hear her own voice over her daughters’ wails.
“I think you broke my eardrum,” the clerk finally retorted.
“I’m so sorry! One of my daughters almost pulled down our Christmas tree.” Jillian was trying with all her might to keep the tears out of her voice. “Listen, isn’t there any way to find out if those benefits are still good?”
“Yeah sure. What’s your maiden name?”
“McKeever.”
“I’ll check. Let me put you on hold again.”
“Hold? Oh my God, no! My phone battery is dying, and I was on hold for forty minutes before I reached you! Can’t you just call me back? Wait!”
But it was too late. She was being serenaded by a symphonic version of the Black-Eyed Peas’ “Boom Boom Pow.”
Frustrated, Jillian fell back onto the couch. The drop in altitude left the toddlers giggling. They smacked Jillian’s face as if that would relieve her too-early-in-the-morning exhaustion. She sighed, forced her lips into a smile and wiped the tears from her eyes before opening them.
Truth be told, even if she hadn’t been canned, Jillian’s credit card bills were mounting so fast that no amount of generous tips could’ve saved her. She was now four months behind on her SUV’s payments. She hid the car in the alley behind her house so she could dodge the repo man who kept knocking on the door. As it was, she barely used the damn thing, except for Costco and Wal-Mart runs. Having rammed it repeatedly into the Porsche of her philandering soon-to-be ex, Scott, her car’s bumper now scraped her front wheels on tight turns.
Last week she had just managed to scrape together the money to pay the gas and electric bill. To keep them under fifty dollars a month, she closed off the vents in every room of her rambling mansion on Pacific Street except for the kitchen and the nursery, where for the most part Addison and Amelia slept and played, or burned used paperbacks in the old home’s fireplaces.
She had traded the convenience of her pricey local Whole Foods and the neighborhood grocery markets on Union, Polk, and Chestnut streets for Chinatown’s vegetable markets, where produce could be purchased for less than half the price.
The thought of collecting unemployment benefits shamed her. But it was going on three weeks since she lost her job, and she had to do something, anything.
She was too proud to give up the home she had so lovingly restored. Further, it would have been one more intolerable defeat at the hands of her two-timing husband.
A commotion coming from the alley behind her house roused her from where she sat prostrate
on the couch. She picked up both girls before walking to the window, just in time to see her SUV being hoisted onto a flatbed truck.
She set the girls down in their playpen and ran down the stairs and out the side door. The tow operator, a large bear of a man sporting tattoos on every inch of skin not covered by his jeans or the jacket emblazoned with Bay Area Repo, had already chained down her vehicle.
Jillian grabbed his arm. “Wait! That’s my car! Where do you think you’re taking it?”
The man shrugged. “Back to the dealership. Sorry, lady, three missed payments means they own it again.”
“How will I get around without it? It’s the only transportation I’ve got, and I have two toddlers! Please—”
He looked down at her. “Nothing I can do about it. Here’s a tip, though. Next time, disengage the GPS so we can’t find it so easily. Just sayin’.”
If only she’d known that earlier.
She watched as he backed the truck through the alleyway before gunning it down Pacific Street. Then it occurred to her that she’d left the kids alone inside. Both were now adept at catapulting themselves over the playpen’s side with a kamikaze flip they’d learned from their little gal pal, Zoe Thornton. She ran back into the house.
Too late. The girls were toddling toward the Christmas tree.
She grabbed them just before they hit the field of broken glass.
Now, for her cell phone. Where had she put it?
It took her a full five minutes before she realized she’d tossed it into the playpen with the girls. By the time she did, it was too late. The damn battery had gone dead.
She threw it back down into the playpen.
Big mistake. The girls climbed down out of her arms and into the playpen after it. She was just about to fish out all three one more time when the doorbell rang.
Who the hell could it be now? Jillian wondered. Before she opened the door, she looked through the peephole.
Scott.
She slumped up against the wall. What the hell was he doing there? Well, at least his pregnant new fiancée, Victoria, wasn’t with him.
Not that she’d dare show her face round Jillian. The last time she did, Jillian slapped it, hard.
Then she ran before the police got there.
“Jillian, I’ve been trying your cell phone all morning. I know you’re in there. I saw you go in after the repo guy pulled out.”
Just great, she thought. Knowing he’d witnessed it made her losing the SUV all the more humiliating. She swallowed hard. “What do you want?”
“I…I left something in the closet of my office. The MacBook Air, the one that looks like yours? I’d like to get it, if you don’t mind.”
“No, you’re not coming in here. Besides, if you left anything here, I probably threw it out already.” Really, she hadn’t touched the damn thing. In fact, she hadn’t been near the room he’d made his home office. It reminded her too much of him.
She was glad the girls were in the kitchen. If they heard their father’s voice, they’d be calling his name. She couldn’t bear the thought. She didn’t want to let him in, let alone back into their lives. Not after he betrayed and deserted her.
Not now that he was preparing for the son he’d always wanted.
“Go away,” Jillian shouted.
“For once, try to be reasonable. I need it!”
Fuck that, she thought. And fuck you.
“Jillian, please don’t make this any harder than it has to be.” He sighed. Then, as if he were trying to reason with a child, he added, “Also, I’ve got something for the girls.”
She looked through the peephole again. True, there were gift bags in his hands.
Words danced on the tip of her tongue. What they want most is something they’ll never have again: their father…
But what good would that do?
Besides, it had been a lousy Christmas. The girls were too young to know it, but that didn’t make it easier for Jillian.
Unless she could find another job quickly, without Scott’s support, all their future Christmases would be just as glum.
Scott had proven to be a lousy husband. But he was also the only financial lifeline she had in her life. As much she wanted to forget him, a tiny part of her still held out hope that he’d come to his senses and come back to her. That he’d realize the mistake he made in leaving them and ask her forgiveness. That he’d beg her to take him back.
Maybe…just maybe…
She opened the door slightly.
He held out the bags. “For the girls. Just a few things I saw in a store window and picked up for them.”
She grabbed the boxes out of his hand. Through the tissue paper, she could see a tiny pink and yellow plaid coat. In fact, there were two of them: double-breasted with pink and yellow bull’s-eye buttons, and Peter Pan collars.
They were adorable.
She looked at the bag. The coats were from Dottie Doolittle, a children’s boutique in the Presidio Heights neighborhood of San Francisco.
“Scott, tell the truth. Did you pick these out yourself?”
His hesitation told her all she needed to know. Victoria had chosen the coats for the girls.
For her girls.
She imagined Victoria’s disgust at having been coerced by Scott to buy the gifts. Jillian knew Victoria hated her and the girls.
No way in hell would they ever wear these coats.
She threw them in his face, slammed the door, and locked it tight.
“Okay…you’re right. Victoria picked them out. But it’s the thought that counts, isn’t it?”
“You’ve already gotten them a gift. It was a DNA test, remember?”
He was silent on the other side of the door.
“By the way, when are you and your pathetic brother, Jeff, going to have your tests?” Jillian taunted him. “Are you stalling because you know the results will show he’s lying? Ha! I can’t wait to see you eat crow for trying to get out of providing child support to our babies.”
“There is nothing I’d rather do more. In fact, my test is tomorrow. But unfortunately, Jeff took a teaching job in Japan. He’s not expected back until the middle of May.”
Jillian snorted. “Ha! A likely story.”
“I’m serious! As much as it disgusts me to think of you and Jeff screwing behind my back, I’d hate it even more if the girls…if the girls weren’t mine.” Even through the thick oak door, she could tell he was all choked up. “Look, Jillian, I never wanted it to come to this.”
“You should have thought about that before you got your assistant pregnant. Oh, and by the way, once again for the record, Jeff and I never had sex!” Jillian hit the door with her fist, hard. She tried to rub away the pain.
If only it were just as easy to rub away her heartache.
“Jillian, please...Can I have my old laptop now? It’s important! Please?”
She thought for a moment. Then, with a shaky voice, she muttered, “Wait out there. I’ll go and get it.”
She stumbled upstairs to his office.
The computer Scott was looking for had been purchased along with a twin, for Jillian. They were a couple of years old now. It had been a joint celebratory gift, when Scott made partner at the financial firm where he worked.
In the past, all the family photo JPEGs from their digital camera had been uploaded into her computer, which also held her favorite recipes, her email correspondence, and anything pertaining to their family life.
He should have photos of the children, she thought. I doubt it will change his mind about me, but some day he may regret having left the girls. I’d rather he still cared about them, even if he no longer loves me.
Jillian opened her computer. In a moment she downloaded the file containing the family photos onto a thumb drive.
She took a wild guess at the password to Scott’s computer: JackNicklaus
Everything about him was just too obvious.
When she put the thumb drive into his computer,
she noticed he’d already set up a file labeled Photos. So, he’s already downloaded their family pictures? She wondered.
She opened the file and opened the first JPEG.
It was a nude photo of Victoria.
She opened another. And another.
Raunch, raunch and more raunch.
In one, Victoria had a vajazzle. Its jewels spelled out Hole in 1!
Really? Barf. Truly. Barf.
Jillian tried hard not to throw up in her mouth.
He hasn’t used the computer in two years, thought Jillian. And yet all that time he had been screwing Victoria!
She was ready to fling the computer against the wall when she had a better idea.
Scott’s brother, Jeff, was the family’s techno-geek. In fact, while surfing on their couch those few months in which he claimed to have had the affair with Jillian, he tried hard to convince both of them to open secured accounts with a digital cloud company, where the files could be uploaded for safekeeping. To get Jeff off her case about it, she reluctantly agreed. Now cloud computing was second nature to her.
Obviously, Scott had never moved his files onto the cloud, or else he wouldn’t be bugging her about the computer. That was par for the course. Scott was always of the mindset to let others do the grunt work for him.
The way he’d convinced Victoria to buy the girls’ Christmas gifts was a great example.
Well, Jillian had a gift for Scott, too.
In a flash, all the files on his computer were uploaded into her iCloud account. It took just a few moments to erase everything off his computer’s hard drive: his financial reports, work assignments, and certainly those files with the nude shots of Victoria.
The only thing she left him was the Excel spreadsheet containing his old golf scores.
She ran downstairs, opened the door and thrust the computer into his arms.
“Get the DNA test, so we can all get on with the rest of our lives,” she commanded.
She didn’t wait for him to respond, but slammed the door as hard as she could.
