by Jay McLean
There might not be a sandy beach or eighty degree weather, but I was pretty sure this place was a thousand times nicer than Paul’s apartment. Besides, Rob had been kind of an asshole when I told him I moved my flight so maybe a little space was good. By asshole I mean he had barely reacted. “That’s too bad babe,” was all he said as he weakly shrugged his shoulders. Did he even care that I was coming along? I mean, he had seemed excited when we first made the plans. Maybe I just read too much into things.
Mocha’s high pitched bark snapped me back into the present. Someone had realized there was a stranger in the house. Not much of a guard dog if you ask me, although I don’t suppose anyone expected a Yorkie to guard anything. I crouched down to her level and let her smell my outstretched hand as she eyed me suspiciously. She was groomed to perfection as if she might be whisked off to a dog show at a moment’s notice. I’d met Mocha once before when Will brought her to work and she was definitely a people lover. A few treats and she’d be my new best friend.
I walked into the kitchen and scoured the pantry for dog treats. Score. Organic wild salmon bites? Mocha ate better than I did. More often than not I sustained myself on a bagel with avocado and cream cheese. I dropped a few treats on the ground and opened the giant Viking refrigerator. Three bottles of Veuve Clicquot, two bottles Pellegrino—one half finished—a lemon, a wedge of gouda, about five different take out boxes and a half bottle of rooster sauce among various other condiments. I shook my head and grabbed the champagne. He had said help yourself.
I popped open the bottle and carefully poured myself a glass, trying to avoid wasting a drop of the sparkling liquid. My phone buzzed and I picked it up. “WTF Kiera,” blinked back at me followed by “HAWAII!?!” Shit. Avery had gotten my text message. She has been my best friend since the moment we met in our shared college dorm room. It was like friendship at first sight. It hadn’t hurt that we were basically forced to spend half our lives together in a ten by ten room, but never the less, plenty of dorm mates hated each other. Last summer we rented the cutest tiny apartment in the north end of the city. My first real place.
I’d been complaining to her for months about how Rob and I never went on vacation together. She had listened, half-heartedly at times, but she had listened. She had the attention span of a fly, and wasn’t particularly fond of Rob in general, so it was a true gesture of love on her part. I could tell she was pissed without even seeing her piercing brown eyes.
“I know. Work.” I typed lamely, knowing it wouldn’t be enough.
“WTF!” blinked back at me, followed by her pale face as the phone started ringing. I stuffed my phone under a pillow on the couch. I didn’t want a lecture on why I was wrong for choosing work over vacation. Avery graduated from UW with a bachelors in sociology and a minor in women’s studies, but now taught Barre classes on weekend and worked at Cupcake Paradise in University Village. She was one of those people who never worried about the future. I envied her attitude.
I needed a distraction—and more Champagne. I topped off my glass and starting poking around the cabinets under the giant flat screen until I found a familiar looking Comcast remote and flipped on the TV. ESPN. No way. I scanned through the guide until I came across a ‘Real Housewives of Beverly Hills’ marathon and clicked. Brainless, trashy TV. It was perfect.
I could still hear my phone buzzing under the pillow and turned up the volume on the TV. Ugh. I drained half my glass of champagne, turned on a few lights and sat down. It was already getting dark out and the sunset over the lake was breathtaking. This would almost be romantic if I wasn’t alone—and at my boss’s house. Mocha jumped up beside me and curled up next to my leg. I wondered what Rob was doing on the flight. Probably chatting up the stewardess.
Rob oozed charm in an effortless manner that drove women crazy. Young, old, good looking or not, he somehow managed to flatter everyone into loving him. At first I had felt so special. He was the king of the compliment and when he was talking to me it was like I was the best, most beautiful girl in the world. It took me six months to figure out he bestowed those compliments rather freely, but I was already hooked. Our relationship was like my addiction to Starbucks caramel macchiatos. I know they aren’t good for me, but if you put one in front of me I just can’t say no. I turned up the volume on the TV again. No thinking about Rob.
Three episodes and two glasses of champagne later I stood up—and sat back down. Maybe I was going a little overboard on the Champagne. Skipping dinner probably hadn’t helped. I got up again, more slowly this time, and stumbled over to the kitchen. I just needed to eat something and I’d be fine. I got out the Gouda and found some crackers in the pantry. Perfect. My phone buzzed again. I still didn’t want to talk to Avery, but maybe it was Rob. His flight probably landed an hour ago at least.
I walked back to the couch and rescued my phone from under the pillow. Three new voicemails. None of them from Rob. I frowned. Should I call him? I mean, he was probably just rushing to pick up his bags and meet Paul. I hated that he made me feel so needy sometimes. Maybe I should send him a text? No. I held my chin up, as if someone was there to see me. I wasn’t going to be that girl.
Mocha barked as if she agreed with me and I rewarded her with a treat. I missed having a dog. I picked up my phone again, opened Facebook and started scrolling through my feed. Nothing very exciting. Wait. Rob Winters via Instagram. It was a selfie of Rob and Paul in front of a rental car with two bikini-clad girls off to the side. Who the hell were they? I slammed down my phone, poured the last of the Champagne into my glass and drank it in one gulp.
He didn’t even have time to drop me a text, but here he was posting selfies on Instagram. Asshole. I wanted to call him and tell him off, but that would just make me look more pathetic. I wanted to call Avery, but she’d just tell me he’s always been an asshole. It was too humiliating to call anyone else. Fuck. What an awesome start to my vacation. I opened the fridge and grabbed another bottle of Champagne.
Chapter THREE
I slowly blinked open my eyes and lifted my head from the velvet pillow. Ouch. A sharp pain seared at my temples followed by a dull throb. The blinding sunshine didn’t help either. Where was the grey overcast skies I was used to? Two bottles of Champagne sat on the coffee table in front of me and cloudy memories of the previous evening starting coming back. At least I hadn’t finished both bottles. I shivered. I had managed to remove my jeans and shoes before passing out on the couch, but where did I leave them? I carefully stood up and started looking around the room.
“Ahem,” a man cleared his throat behind me.
I whipped around. “Who the hell are you!?” I grabbed one of the bottles from the coffee table and held it up.
He raised his eyebrows and folded his muscular arms across his chest. “Will always goes for the feisty ones. Please don’t throw that at me. I’m Jeremy, Will’s brother, and you are?”
Why hadn’t Will ever mentioned a brother? Not that they sat around talking about family. A hot brother for that matter. This guy must be a number of years younger than Will—maybe twenty seven or twenty eight. He was tall, maybe 6’2” with light hazel eyes, dark hair. Very handsome.
“Keira. Keria Vane,” I stammered, slowly lowering the bottle. “I work for Will.”
He raised his eyebrows again, his eyes mirthful. “I see.”
Shit. I looked down at my rumpled Cupcake Paradise tee and purple boy short underwear. At least I wasn’t wearing a thong. I grabbed the blanket off the couch and wrapped it around myself. “I’m watching Mocha while Will’s out of town on business.”
It sounded lame in my head, but worse when I actually said the words. Here I was, standing in my underwear, clearly hung over, with the evidence sitting on the coffee table in front of me. Will was going to fire me when he found out. Emily would be so fucking happy about it. Avery would tell me fuck corporate America. And Rob? He was probably having brunch with those bikini girls right now.
I stepped to the side to bloc
k the view of the champagne bottles, as if he hadn’t already seen them. “I didn’t know anyone else would be here. Honestly, I’m just here to watch the dog. Will’s in Vegas.” I felt tears welling up.
“Don’t worry.” His expression softened. “Look, I won’t tell Will if that’s what you’re worried about. So, you’re keeping an eye on princess Mocha.”
“Thanks,” I started to relax. “Yes, Mocha. Mocha?” She must have run off to her bed in the corner of Will’s room. “Mocha!” I called out a little louder this time.
“Mocha!” Jeremy joined me. “Come here girl!”
“Mocha!?” I tried again, but nothing. My neck was starting to get warm as the panic set in. Where was Mocha? I ran into Will’s room. The small faux fur dog bed was sitting empty. She must be here somewhere. I ran back into the kitchen and got the dog treats. “Mocha, Mocha!” I called, waving around a handful of morsels.
Jeremy headed downstairs while I searched the main level again. She wasn’t in the kitchen/living room. The office was empty. I ran into Will’s room again, this time opening the closets and checking the master bathroom. Nothing. I started opening cabinets. How would Mocha end up in a cabinet? This was ridiculous. She couldn’t have vanished. Shit. I was still in my underwear. I grabbed my jeans and sweatshirt off the ottoman and pulled them on as I scanned the room for some sign of Mocha.
“She’s not downstairs,” Jeremy emerged from the stairs, concern in his eyes. “Are you sure you didn’t let her out last night?”
“No, I swear,” I leaned back into the cushions of the couch and shook my head. “She was with me, here, sleeping on the blanket. I didn’t open a window, let alone a door. It’s freezing out. Why would I even consider it?”
“Maybe you don’t remember,” he nodded to the Champagne bottles.
I hung my head in my hands. This was all my fault. I was sure I remembered falling asleep with Mocha resting peacefully next to my legs. She was such a sweetheart nuzzling her furry head into the crook of my knees. I couldn’t let anything happen to her. I had to do something. “Are you sure you didn’t let her out this morning when you came in? When did you get here anyway?”
“Just before you woke up from your um—slumber—and no, I didn’t let her out.” He started pacing. “I think we better go around the neighborhood.”
“I know.” I pulled on my fawn suede UGG’s and stood up. I knew I looked like a mess, but I didn’t care as long as we found Mocha. “I still don’t get how she could have gotten out. Is there a dog door somewhere?”
“Not as far as I know,” he grabbed his jacket. “Better bring those treats.”
Chapter FOUR
I walked back into the house, my shoulder slumped in defeat. We’d circled the neighborhood for an hour calling Mocha’s name and nothing. We’d knocked on all the neighbors doors and talked to a half dozen people, none of whom had seen Mocha. “Where could she be?”
“I’m sure she’ll turn up.” Jeremy put his hand gently on my shoulder, but I felt no warmth, only guilt.
“What if something happened to her?” A tear slid down my cheek. My cat Pinky ran away when I was about nine. At first my parents insisted that she would turn up. Eventually they claimed that she must have been adopted by another loving family. I knew it was all hopeful thinking to make me feel better. I couldn’t bear thinking of Mocha stuck alone in the cold. I didn’t care if I got fired anymore. I just wanted to find Mocha.
“Hey, I bet she had one of those chips. You know, vets put microchips in dogs and cats these days and I’m sure my brother would have had Mocha chipped.”
My eyes brightened a little. “You could be right.” Will was all over any sort of technology and there was no way he’d pass on micro-chipping Mocha unless Harmony got in the way. Pleeeeease let her have a chip. “We need to call the vet.”
“Do you know what vet she sees?” he asked, taking off his jacket.
I held up my hands. How would I know Will’s vet? “I’ve met Mocha once, at the office.”
“Right.” He studied me for a second. “It is a little usual dog sitting for your boss, isn’t it? Staying at his house.”
My cheeks burned. Unusual was an understatement. How did I explain to him that I was actually supposed to be in Hawaii, but got caught up in competing with my perfect co-worker and insisted on this ridiculous scheme? “Uh yeah. I was just trying to help.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Will must be a pretty good boss.” He paused for a moment. “Maybe he has something in the office.”
“Do you think we should call him?” As soon as I got the words out, I held my breath, scared of the potential answer.
Jeremy gave me a sympathetic look. “Let’s just see if we can get a hold of the vet first. There’s no point in worrying Will for no reason. And it’s not like he’d have the microchip number with him in London. Mocha is probably with one of the neighbors we didn’t catch.”
I nodded and followed Jeremy into Will’s office. It was the one room in the house that was actually a little bit messy. Magazines and papers were stacked on a crowded desk and full wall of bookshelves was crammed with books, picture frames and random tchotchkes. Where to begin? I felt a little bit weird rifling through his things, but his brother was there and we had to find Mocha.
Jeremy rubbed his hand across his jaw as he surveyed the room. “Why don’t you start with the desk and I’ll tackle the filing cabinet?”
I sat down on the cool leather roller chair and gingerly started flipping through the stack of papers in front of me. Copies of the Economist and GQ were scattered among old utility bills and bank statements. I hoped to find a statement or something from her visit to the vet about her foot, but nothing was turning up. Ugh. I looked over at Jeremy. He was methodically flipping through files in silence.
Will must have kept all the vet stuff in a file somewhere. The drawers. The bottom drawer was deep like a file cabinet. I pulled it open. Success. I grabbed the first three folders and placed them on my lap. The first one looked like stuff for the house—a warranty for the dishwasher, a booklet for the microwave. Some sort of claim information for a problem with some tile work in the bathroom. I set that folder aside and opened the next one.
An expense report for a trip to Paris sat on top. This looked like work stuff. Wasn’t it sort of odd he kept it at home? What was this stuff? A receipt for someplace called Axon Technology was next. One sixty inch flat screen, custom speaker system, installation. Fifty-three thousand, five hundred and eighty six dollars. Did I just read that right? I flipped the paper over looking for some more description, but there was nothing. Was this for an event? It was dated a few months before I started on the team. The huge TV upstairs flashed into my head. Ridiculous. Why was I looking at this stuff?
“Found it!” Jeremy stood up waving a paper in his hand. “Here’s a bill from two weeks ago so it must be current.”
I slapped closed the folder and shoved the files back into the drawer. “Thank god. Let’s call.”
Jeremy pulled out his cell phone. “Maybe I should call. It is my brother’s dog.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. I didn’t really want to explain how I misplaced Mocha after watching her for less than a day. I just wanted her back. I still couldn’t fathom how she had gotten away. There must have been a window open, something.
“This is Jeremy Stanton, Will Stanton’s brother…” his voice trailed off as he walked out of the office.
I leaned back in the chair. How had I gotten myself into this mess? Emily never would have lost Will’s dog. She probably wouldn’t have drank his Champagne either. She probably would have story boarded some amazing marketing strategy and presented it to Will—with Mocha by her side—on his arrival home. I stared listlessly at the book cases.
Before I could get any farther with my pity party, Jeremy walked back in with an expression that did not look encouraging. “I left a message.”
Shit. Of course the vet wasn’t there. I looked at my phone in dist
ress. 4:26. “Let me guess. The vet closed at?”
“Four o’clock,” he finished quietly. “Look, they are open at ten tomorrow and I’m sure we’ll be able to get the tracking number then.”
I held his gaze for a second, my eyes welling with tears. I tried to stop them, but it was hopeless. I dabbed at the rims of my eyes with the cuff of my shirt leaving a dark blotch of yesterday’s mascara on the white cotton. “I need to call the shelters.”
Jeremy walked over and sat on the desk across from me. “We’ll find her,” he said firmly. “Let’s make a list. I’ll help.”
Chapter FIVE
An hour later Jeremy and I emerged, defeated, from the office. None of the area shelters had taken in a Yorkie in the last 24 hours, but they would all put us on their call list in case one turned up. We spent another half hour circling the nearby houses and yard calling Mocha’s name, but as the daylight faded so did my hope. I sat down on the low concrete wall that ran in front of Will’s house. The damp surface soaked into my jeans but I didn’t care.
“She’s probably at one of the neighbor’s houses and that’s why she can’t hear us,” Jeremy was trying to project optimism, but his eyes gave him away.
“You don’t really believe that,” I started biting my nail—a bad habit from my childhood that reappeared when I was stressed. “Look at this place,” I gestured to the tall canopy of fir trees above us, the thick foliage filling the space between neatly landscaped yards. “You know there are raccoons out there.”
Jeremy held out his hand. “Come on, I’ll make you something to eat. Sitting out here in the rain will not bring Mocha back any sooner.”
