by Keeland, Vi
Sebastian flashed another wicked smile. “Sorry. Slipped.”
If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was intentionally making me feel on edge.
Luckily, Marmaduke came to my rescue. He charged at me and nearly knocked me over in an attempt to lick my face. “Hey, boy.” I scratched behind his ears. “It’s nice to see you, too.”
When I looked up, I found Sebastian’s eyes searing into me. He held a folded sheet of white paper in his hand that I hadn’t noticed before.
“Where did you say you got your training from again?”
Uh. I hadn’t that I remembered. Looking around the room, I felt a panic come over me. I could have just ripped off the Band-Aid and come clean right then, but my heart was racing out of control, and I just wasn’t ready. So what did I do? Of course, I dug myself deeper. The hallway we were standing in had a large round table. On top of it was a set of keys. “I went to the Key Training School.”
“The Key Training School . . .”
He glanced at the keys on the table and back to me with narrowed eyes. “Where is that located exactly?”
“Umm . . . downtown.”
“I’ll have to look them up. See if they have a comments section so that I can give you a good review. Is it K-E-Y Training?”
Shit. “Yes . . . but they’re closed now.”
“Closed today or closed for good?”
“For good.”
“That’s a shame. Since they clearly produced such a qualified dog trainer.”
What the hell? Was he mocking me? We’d ended on such a nice note after I’d saved his dog’s life, and now suddenly I felt like we were back to square one.
He tilted his head. “Why did they close?”
“Umm. I think because the rent is so high in the city.”
He squinted so tightly that I could barely see the whites of his eyes. Then, without another word, he turned his back to me and started to walk into the living room. “Follow me.”
Like a puppy, I trailed behind. Marmaduke had walked ahead and was busy doing something in the corner. Sebastian turned to me and pointed to the dog. “This is new. Perhaps we can start today’s session with you demonstrating how to stop my dog from doing that to my daughter’s stuffed animals.”
Leaning in for a closer look, I saw that the giant animal was humping a stuffed turtle. Ugh. His lipstick was out and everything. I scrunched up my nose. “He’s humping a turtle.”
“Is that what he’s doing? I wasn’t quite sure. Perhaps you get a lot more practice than I do.”
My eyes widened. Did he just call me a whore? I blinked a few times. “Excuse me?”
“Well, you told my daughter that you write about your dating life for a living. So naturally I assume that means you go out with a wide variety of men.”
I was getting more pissed off by the minute. I might be a liar, but I was certainly not promiscuous. My hands gripped my hips. “Just because I date a lot doesn’t mean I’m off humping anything I can get my hands on like your dog. Perhaps you should look inward—maybe your dog gets his hobbies from his master. What exactly is your dating life like?”
Sebastian practically snarled at me. Screw this. I snarled right back.
My attention was again distracted when Marmaduke started to really go to town. While before, he had been gently gyrating his hips in a haphazard motion, now he was pumping away like a man on a mission. Or a dog. A dog on a mission, I meant. I yelled at him. “Marmaduke. No!”
Shockingly, the big dog froze. He stood there midpump, looking like he hadn’t even realized anyone was watching, and now he’d been caught red-handed. While he was flustered, I marched over and slipped the stuffed turtle from beneath him. Ugh. It was . . . wet. I didn’t even want to know what type of canine bodily fluids I was touching. I held the tail between two fingers and looked at Sebastian. “Where is your washing machine?”
“The laundry room is off the kitchen.”
I knew which way that was, so I helped myself. I walked the offending turtle to the kitchen and opened a bunch of doors until I found the one that contained a small laundry room. Lifting the top of the washer, I tossed the plush toy inside and turned to Sebastian, who was watching from the doorway.
“What else is he humping?”
“A few of my daughter’s other stuffed animals.”
“Go get them.”
Sebastian disappeared and came back with three more small plush toys. He handed them to me, and I tossed them all into the washer. “Do you have any vinegar?”
His brows furrowed. “I think so.”
“Go get it.”
Once again, he surprised me by doing as I instructed without question. When he returned, I had the washing machine filling up with water, and I added two capfuls of the vinegar. “Puppies don’t reach puberty until six to eight months, so he isn’t humping for sexual pleasure. It’s usually just a playful game they find out is fun for them. Animals tend to pick things that smell good. A little vinegar in the wash might do the trick to stop him.”
Thankfully, I’d been reading a lot and stumbled on an article on humping. For a minute there, I almost sounded like I knew what the hell I was talking about.
Sebastian nodded, seemingly knocked down off whatever high horse he’d been on when I arrived. I brushed past him to exit the laundry room and went back to the living room to find Marmaduke sitting. It looked like he was waiting for me to return.
“You said you wanted to do some indoor training today. But I think it’s best if I take him for a walk before we attempt that. He has a lot of energy and follows commands best when he’s a bit tired.”
“Fine. I’ll join you.”
I held up a hand and showed him my palm. “I prefer to go alone.” Not wanting to tell him I needed a minute to gather my wits, I pulled yet another bullshit lie out of my ass. “It’s bonding time for me as Marmaduke’s trainer.”
Sebastian’s eyes roamed my face, as if he was debating what I’d said. Eventually, he gave a curt nod. “Fine. I’ll wait here.”
You know how you’re calm during the seconds of a narrowly averted disaster, only for your heart to start pumping like crazy after the situation is under control again? That’s exactly what I felt like as I walked down the front stairs of the Maxwell residence with Marmaduke. My legs shook with each step, and I had to gulp a few mouthfuls of air in order to catch my breath. What the hell had gone on in there? I replayed the last ten minutes over in my head—the mocking way Sebastian had spoken to me, how he’d seemed to challenge every word that came out of my mouth, the way he’d questioned my dating habits. But by the time I’d walked around the block a few times, I’d calmed down and convinced myself that my own guilt had me reading into things that hadn’t really been there. It was like the telltale heart beating under the floorboards—with every minute I was in Sebastian’s presence, I heard the thumping louder, and it had started to feel like the room was closing in on me. But really, there had been no beating heart under the floor. The entire crazy encounter had been a figment of my imagination.
Yeah, that was it. It had to be. I mean, sure, Sebastian was a tough nut. But he had no idea who I really was. If he did, he would have called me out on it immediately. So it had to be all in my head.
Twenty minutes later, I finally garnered the courage to walk back to the house. I took a deep breath and lifted my hand to knock, but the door swung open before my knuckles could connect with the wood.
“It’s about time.”
“Marmaduke had a lot of energy today.”
“I was beginning to think you were going to take off with my dog.”
I sort of laughed at that notion. Who the hell in their right mind would take off with this out-of-control animal? Only a person who was nuts, obviously. Oh. Wait. Maybe I did qualify, then. I guess I could see his point. “Sorry. I’ll stay a bit longer so you get your full hour of training time, if you’d like.”
Sebastian stepped aside, and I noticed that he again h
ad a folded-up piece of white paper in his hand. Only this time, I wasn’t going to let my imagination get the best of me by thinking whatever it was contained some ominous evil thing to expose me as a fraud. So I lifted my chin high and ignored his hand as I walked inside.
Back in the living room, I felt Sebastian’s presence all around me. It was uncomfortable yet oddly arousing at the same time. I cleared my throat. “Is there something specific you wanted to work on today?”
He watched me intently. “Yes. Jumping over people.”
My brows drew together. “Excuse me?”
“Your website said it’s one of the tricks that you teach. I thought my daughter might enjoy that type of thing, so I’d like you to teach the dog how to jump over people while they’re down on all fours.”
“You want me to teach Marmaduke how to jump over people who are down on all fours?”
Sebastian looked around. “Is there an echo in here?”
“No. But I just . . . It seems like a better use of our training time might be spent teaching Marmaduke some basic commands. Not something so . . . advanced.”
“Are you not capable of teaching him an advanced trick?”
Uh . . . no . . . I hadn’t gotten that far on YouTube yet. “Of course I am.”
Sebastian flashed a cynical smile and sat down on the couch. He stretched both of his arms out across the top and kicked his feet up onto the coffee table in front of him. “Good. Now down on all fours, Ms. Schmidt.”
“Schmidt?”
“Oh, is that not your real last name? Your website said Gretchen Schmidt. But yet you told my daughter your real name is Sadie? So what is it now? Are you Sadie Schmidt, or is there yet another name?”
I started to feel my cheeks heat. “Umm. No, it’s Schmidt. Like I told your daughter, I just use Gretchen for work purposes.”
“Right. Because it sounds more German.”
“That’s right.”
“Alright then, Ms. Schmidt. Why don’t you get started? What’s the German word for ‘jump’?”
Oh God. I totally panicked and said the first jumbled syllables that I could force out of my mouth. “Flunkerbsht.”
Sebastian’s brows jumped. “Flunkerbsht.”
“That’s right.”
I could have sworn I detected a hint of a smile at the edges of his lips. But then it quickly disappeared. “Ready whenever you are . . . flunkerbsht.”
CHAPTER 10
SADIE
It was the longest ten minutes of my life. Seriously. Every second that passed was excruciating as Sebastian just watched with his arms crossed as I made a fool of myself.
I tried in vain to get this horse of a dog to jump over my back with a made-up command that meant absolutely nothing. It was looking like I’d have a greater chance of turning water into wine.
How the hell do you teach a dog to jump over your back anyway? I tried everything, from demonstrating the act myself while jumping over an end table shouting “flunkerbsht” repeatedly . . . to grabbing another one of the stuffed animals from Birdie’s room and jumping over that. He ended up going after the toy and humping it.
I’m a flunkerbsht, alright. A huge flunker shit.
In a last act of desperation, I tried getting down on all fours and yelling “flunkerbsht” while nudging my head, hoping that by some miracle, Marmaduke would take that as a sign to jump over me. He’d either lie down with his chin on the floor or, worse, climb up on my back and try to stay there. At one point, I became pinned under him. Then, after I flipped around, he started licking my face as I struggled to get up.
How had I gone from getting ready to tell Sebastian the truth just this morning . . . to this?
I needed to end it.
Now.
I needed to tell Sebastian everything.
When I finally got Marmaduke off me, I stood up.
Brushing off my pants, I said, “Sebastian, we need to—”
“Stop it, Sadie. Just stop.” His tone was jarring and his eyes—they became filled with so much anger as he said, “Don’t say another word. It won’t matter. Because it’ll just be another lie.”
My heart pounded, and the room started to feel like it was spinning.
What’s happening?
He unfolded the paper he’d been holding and faced it toward me. It was a photo of a woman and some words. It looked like a bio maybe. The woman had long, curly red hair.
“Who is that?” I swallowed.
“It’s the real dog trainer Gretchen Schmidt. She contacted me recently to apologize for not showing up a few weeks ago due to a family emergency. Gave me the link to her new website, where I found her bio.”
Oh no.
I knew I should’ve said something at that point, but the words wouldn’t come.
He continued. “And what do you know . . . she trained in Munich while spending a year abroad, not at the . . . what was it you said? The Key Training School? Apparently, all they teach at the latter is how to lie through your teeth!”
I was seriously going to throw up.
“I can explain—”
“That’s good to know, but unfortunately, there’s nothing you could say at this point that I would believe. So, what I need you to do right now is to get out of my house and never come back.”
This is so bad.
So very bad.
“I’ll leave. But can I please just explain first?”
“Not unless you want to explain to the police.”
The police? He had to be kidding me. Was impersonating a dog trainer even a crime? I didn’t have enough legal background to figure out if I was in any kind of serious trouble here. So, rather than take a chance and make things worse, I decided to do as he said and headed for the door.
He might as well have told me not to let the door hit me on the way out, because I swore I felt it hit my ass as he slammed it shut behind me.
The New York air never felt colder, the skies never looked grayer as I made my way down the stairs and onto the sidewalk, feeling like a piece of tossed-out trash that had been fucked worse than Birdie’s stuffed turtle.
A mix of emotions pummeled through me. It wasn’t just the shock of having been outed but also an inexplicable sense of loss—not only the loss of Birdie but losing a sense of belonging that had come along with this experience. I hadn’t even realized it had been missing in my life until it was ripped away.
Two weeks after that horrible day at the Maxwells’, I still hadn’t gotten over it. The one thing I was grateful for was that Birdie hadn’t been there to witness any of it. I certainly hoped Sebastian never told her what really happened with me. It would break my heart if I thought Birdie saw me as a malicious person.
My heart was truly broken, and I’d spent many sleepless nights weighing whether or not I should try to find a way to explain myself to Sebastian again. He’d specifically said that he wouldn’t believe anything I had to say. Telling him the truth could also make things worse. Then again, how much worse could things get?
Dr. Emery was out of the country for a few months, so I couldn’t even run this situation by her. It didn’t matter how many times I went back and forth over it, I would always come to the conclusion that it was better to just leave well enough alone.
But of course, life has a way of sometimes coming around and making decisions for you.
One afternoon, I checked the mail to find that Birdie had sent “Santa” another letter. It had been a long time since she’d written, and I truly hadn’t been expecting her to write back ever again.
Given the circumstances, nothing could have kept me from ripping that envelope open.
Dear Santa,
I wasn’t going to write to you anymore, but now that it’s getting closer to Christmas, this can be like my one Christmas letter.
I have a dog named Marmaduke now. He’s a Great Dane like I’ve always wanted. I love him so much. Mommy brought him. Well, not Mommy herself, but Daddy said that she sent him a message to bring Mar
maduke to me. That’s how I knew she wasn’t mad at me for stealing cookies. (I still steal cookies. You know that, right?)
Mommy hasn’t sent me any more signs. But that’s okay. I know she’s busy being an angel.
I met someone who lost her mom when she was six like me. I never met someone else who had a mom die from cancer before. She was really nice. Her name is Sadie. Well, she has two names: Sadie and Gretchen. She’s the reason I have two names now: Birdie and Muffuleta. Anyway, Sadie was Marmaduke’s dog trainer. She taught him to sit and other stuff in German. Oh and she saved his life, too. I thought maybe you had answered my wish for a special friend when she first came. But then Sadie disappeared. I don’t know what happened. Daddy just said she wasn’t coming anymore. He said he didn’t know why. But he acted weird when I asked him about it. I think maybe it was my fault that she left. Maybe I made her sad because I lost my mom. Maybe it reminded her about hers? I wish I knew why Sadie left without saying goodbye. Why does everyone leave me?
Anyway, I don’t know if you can find Sadie and tell her that I’m sorry.
Thanks, Santa.
Love, Birdie
(AKA Muffuleta)
I ended up having to leave work early that day. Even though I’d wanted to hit the liquor store, I knew I likely wouldn’t have been able to know when to stop drowning my sorrows. I went straight home instead.
It didn’t matter how many times I reread that letter, the answer of what I needed to do next was now abundantly clear.
Sebastian had paid me for my services via a new PayPal account I’d set up before he realized the truth. So I had his email address associated with that payment.
Before I could change my mind, I opened my laptop, generated a new email from my real account, and started typing.
Dear Mr. Maxwell,
I opted to send you this email instead of trying for an in-person meeting, because I doubted you would agree to see me. I urge you to please read this and save your judgment until you’ve gotten to the end. I promise it will fully explain why I was at your doorstep that first day.
