by B R Snow
He glanced around just as I popped a bite-sized Snickers into my mouth. Embarrassed, I slipped the empty wrapper into my pocket.
“Sorry,” I mumbled through a mouthful of chocolate.
A man entered through the double doors and paused for effect in the doorway. Then he strolled toward us staring at Josie the entire time. He was wearing an expensive tailored suit and holding a leash with the Jack Russell attached to it. The dog grudgingly did his best to keep up, but his head jerked every time the lead tightened. Josie and I flinched each time it happened, and by the time Joshua Middleton reached the table, we were both steaming.
“Josie! Well, just look at you,” Middleton said, leaning down to slip the leash under his foot then moving in for a hug that Josie wasn’t fast enough to duck. “Whoa. You feel good.”
“Hello, Joshua,” Josie said flatly, then knelt down to pet the Jack Russell.
“Please, don’t do that,” Middleton snapped. “He’s working.”
“On what, a neck injury?” Josie said, glaring up at him.
“You’ll never change, will you?” Then he turned and gave me the once over. “I’m Joshua Middleton.”
“Suzy Chandler,” I said, reluctantly extending my hand.
As expected, he held it way too long and gave me a look that made me want to take another shower.
“So, I’ll be debating both of you?” he said, glancing back and forth at us. “That hardly seems fair. But I’ll just sit in the middle, and be surrounded by beauty. I do hope my fiancée doesn’t get jealous.”
“You’re getting married?” Josie said.
“Yes, I’m finally ready,” he said, nodding. “After playing the field all those years, I started asking myself, why do men keep chasing women they have no intention of marrying?”
“Probably for the same reason dogs chase cars they have no intention of driving,” Josie said.
Thomas laughed as he slid Middleton’s microphone into place. “Now, that was a good one.”
“Thanks,” Josie said, ignoring Middleton’s instructions and stroking the Jack Russell’s head. “What’s his name?”
“Jack,” Middleton said. “What else would I call him?”
“Russell?” she said, shrugging. “Who’s the good boy? Yes, he’s a good boy, aren’t you?” The dog rolled over on its back as Josie began scratching his stomach.
“I really wish you wouldn’t do that,” Middleton said. “Jack! Sit!”
The dog sat on its haunches and hung its head.
“That’s better,” Middleton said. “Okay, let’s get this thing going.”
Marjorie entered, stopped halfway down the center aisle to have a quick word with her son, then continued toward us.
“Okay,” she said, obviously still stressed by the sheer number of details she was trying to juggle. “Thanks again for doing this.” She approached the table that was draped with white tablecloths and looked around. “Thomas, we’re going to need some bottled water. And I don’t see pens or notepads. Could you grab one of the staff?”
“You got it, Mom.”
“Thanks,” she said, nodding with pride as he headed off. “I thought we would keep this pretty informal. Why don’t each of you open with a five-minute overview, then we’ll just take questions.”
“That’s fine,” Middleton said. “Do they each get five minutes?”
“I guess,” Marjorie said, shrugging.
“Then I’d like ten minutes,” he said. “In the interest of equal time and all that.”
“Take all the time you need, Joshua,” Josie said, shaking her head. “I’m sure we’ll all be mesmerized.”
“This is going to be so much fun,” Marjorie said, grinning at Josie. “Okay, we’ve got quite a crowd waiting to get in.” She turned to her son who was standing by the entrance. “We’re ready, Thomas.”
He opened the doors, people streamed in, and soon the seats were pretty much filled. I sat down on Middleton’s left, about four feet away from him. Josie did the same on the other side. Middleton slid the end of the leash under one of his chair legs and snapped his fingers. The dog stretched out on the floor and inched toward Josie as far as the lead allowed.
“I’d like to thank everyone for coming,” Marjorie said, addressing the crowd of about two hundred. “I’m sure you’ve all seen the title of this panel, but rather than try to recite that mouthful from memory, let’s just call it: Cash versus Care. Basically, we’re trying to get some insights about the best ways to provide great animal care and not lose our shirts in the process.”
The crowd chuckled and gave her a golf clap.
“Representing the economic side of the debate is Joshua Middleton.” Marjorie paused and waited out the round of applause. “As you all know, Joshua is the CEO of Middleton Enterprises, the largest pet store franchise in the U.S.”
“And Canada,” Middleton interjected.
“And Canada,” Marjorie said, sighing. “How could I forget that?”
Josie and I glanced down the table at each other and grinned.
“Excuse me for interrupting, Marjorie,” Middleton said. “But if anyone in the audience is interested in exploring the exciting possibility of owning one of our franchises, we have several staff members in the vendor exhibit hall who’d be happy to discuss it with you. And I will personally be in the exhibit hall later today from five to six signing copies of my new book; Tales From the Cages.”
By the time he finished talking, Middleton was puffed up and so full of himself it looked like he might explode. He glanced around the room.
“Does anyone have any questions for me before we get started?”
“Where’s Jack?” someone in the audience called out.
Middleton started to frown but turned it into a smile. He reached under the table, grabbed the dog and held it up in front of him. The audience oohed and ahhed, then gave the dog a round of applause. Middleton slowly lowered the dog below the table then tossed him on the floor like he would his work bag. Then he beamed at the audience.
“Jack’s a bit tired at the moment. He’s had a busy morning. But you’ll see him around later.”
“Okay, moving on,” Marjorie said. “Discussing the issue of compassionate animal care are Josie Court and Suzy Chandler, co-owners of the Thousand Islands Doggy Inn in Clay Bay. And speaking from first-hand knowledge, I have to say that they are doing some wonderful things.”
The audience applauded, and we gave them a quick wave.
“All three panelists will make some brief opening remarks, and then we’ll take questions for the remainder of the session. Just raise your hand, and someone will bring you a microphone so we can make sure everyone hears your question. Joshua, the floor is yours.”
“Thanks, Marjorie,” Middleton said, getting to his feet. “If you don’t mind, I thought I’d stand while I delivered my opening remarks. I like to move around.”
“Good idea,” Josie said. “I’m sure the snipers will appreciate the challenge.” Then she flushed beet red and glanced down at her microphone. “Oh, is this thing on?”
“Smooth,” I said, laughing.
As Middleton started pacing back and forth in front of the table, I glanced around at the audience. I recognized a couple of people, but it was mostly a sea of faces. That is, it was until my eyes landed on a woman sitting in the front row staring intensely at Middleton. Stunned, I glanced down the table to catch Josie’s eye. But she was staring out at the audience.
I flipped the switch on my microphone to off and leaned toward her.
“Pssst,” I said, loud enough to get her attention. She glanced at me, and I nodded my head at the front row. “Check out the blonde in the front row.”
Josie glanced around, then shook her head, confused about who I was referring to. I nodded at the front row and surreptitiously pointed at the woman. Then Josie’s mouth dropped, and she sat back in her chair. Then the woman took her eyes off Middleton long enough to grin and give us a small wave. We waved back,
then Josie lost interest and reached under the table. I glanced over and saw the Jack Russell, off its lead and sitting on her lap, munching on the dog treats Josie was feeding to him one at a time. Middleton continued droning on about the rapid recovery of franchise fees through the use of judicious buying practices, oblivious to what was going on behind him.
Josie placed the Jack Russell on the table and reached into her bag. She removed a tennis ball and glanced down the table at me. I smiled and nodded, then reached into my bag for the dog treats I always carried with me. The crowd began buzzing at the sight of the dog standing on the table. Middleton was convinced he had the audience in the palm of his hand and began walking back and forth in front of the table even faster as his voice took on the urgency of a Sunday preacher.
Josie rolled the tennis ball down the table, and I stopped it with my hand and left it sitting in front of me. The Jack Russell trotted down the table and picked the ball up in its mouth. I held out a dog treat, and the terrier gently set the ball down, ate the treat, then picked the ball up and trotted down the table back to Josie. A low chuckle rumbled through the audience. We repeated the process three more times until the audience was roaring with laughter.
“I know I’m not that funny,” Middleton said, confused. Then he turned around and glared at us. “This is an excellent example of what I’m talking about when I say that animal care has its limits.” He sat back down in his chair and watched the Jack Russell trot by on his way across the table. “Dogs, all animals, need to understand their boundaries. Jack. Sit. Jack!”
Jack was enjoying his snack and having way too much fun to pay attention to Middleton’s commands. I gave him another treat, then laughed when he picked up the tennis ball, paused to scratch one of his ears with the ball lodged in his mouth, then headed toward Josie. The crowd continued to roar with laughter, and Middleton’s scowl deepened. As the dog trotted past, Middleton reached out in anger and grabbed the dog’s tail.
Either the dog had had enough of his owner, or he just didn’t like having his tailed pulled. Or it could have been a lot of both. Jack dropped the tennis ball, then turned and sunk his teeth into Middleton’s wrist and hand and held on for dear life. Middleton screamed in pain and grabbed his hand. The dog accepted one final treat from Josie, climbed down off the table onto her lap, then hopped down onto the floor. He stretched out on the other side of Josie’s chair, his work apparently done. Josie reached down to pet the dog, then turned to look at Middleton.
“Good boy,” I whispered.
“Let’s have a look,” Josie said, inching her chair closer.
Middleton reluctantly showed her his wound. She held his hand and wiped at the blood with a white napkin that quickly began turning red.
“He got you pretty good,” she said. “You’re going to need some stitches.”
“I can’t believe that son of a-”
“Microphone, Joshua,” Josie said, raising an eyebrow.
“Right,” Middleton said, turning his microphone off. “I can’t believe he bit me.”
“Rule number one,” Josie said, laughing. “Don’t pull his tail.”
Marjorie approached the table and took a look at Middleton’s hand and the bloody napkin. “Oh, my. We need to get you to a doctor.”
“I don’t need a doctor,” Middleton snapped.
“I guess we’re going to have to agree to disagree on that, Joshua,” Marjorie said. “At a minimum, we’re going to have to reschedule the panel.” She turned around to address the crowd, then looked back at us. “Would you be willing to do this sometime tomorrow?”
All three of us nodded. Marjorie frowned for what must have been the hundredth time today.
“What are they supposed to do the rest of the day?” she said. “All the other afternoon sessions have already started.”
“If it were me, I’d just open the bar early,” I said, shrugging.
“What a great idea,” she said, refocusing on the audience.
Soon the room was empty, and Middleton was on his second napkin. The blood continued to ooze from the wound, and his face was drained. The woman who’d be sitting in the front row approached and placed a hand on Middleton’s shoulder.
“You poor baby. Are you all right?” she cooed, then smiled at me. “Hi, Suzy. How are you doing?”
“I’m good, Roxanne,” I said, still amazed to see her here.
Roxanne glared at Josie. Josie returned the favor. Roxanne was a woman who could only be described as a world class gold-digger, and we had crossed paths with her a few times in the past. The source of their tension came from an encounter they’d had at C’s one night when Roxanne was flirting heavily with Josie’s boyfriend at the time and playing a little fast and loose with her hands. When Roxanne’s hand roamed too close to Josie’s dinner plate, she’d ended up getting stabbed in the palm by Josie’s steak knife and ended up needing several stitches.
Josie maintains that it was an accident, and she’s sticking to her story.
“Hello, Josie. Have you stabbed anybody lately?”
“Not yet, but the day is young,” Josie said, returning Roxanne’s glare. “You’re the bride-to-be?”
“That’s me,” she said, beaming at Middleton.
“You all know each other?” Middleton said, thoroughly confused as he stared down at his wound.
“Yes, our paths have crossed,” Roxanne said, then glanced back and forth at us. “Let’s hope the third time’s the charm, right?”
“Third time?” Middleton said, glancing up from his hand to stare at his fiancée.
“Long story,” Roxanne said, shrugging.
“All the good ones are,” I said, grinning at Josie.
“Did you bring your bag, Josie?” Middleton said.
“My vet bag?”
“Yeah.”
“Sure. It’s upstairs in the suite.”
“You got a suite?” Middleton said, frowning.
“Yeah, it’s great. Why do you want to know if I brought my bag?”
“Because I want you to stitch me up,” he snapped.
“Are vets allowed to work on people?” Roxanne said, frowning.
“No,” Josie said. “But since Joshua is such a dog, I think we can make an exception.”
“Funny,” Middleton said. “C’mon, let’s go. Before I bleed to death. Roxanne, grab that stupid dog.”
Chapter 3
Joshua stepped inside the suite and whistled softly as he looked around the spacious living room. Josie pointed to one of the bathrooms.
“Let’s do this in there,” she said. “We don’t want you bleeding all over the carpet.”
“I can’t believe you have a suite,” he said, following her into the bathroom. “The front desk told me I was lucky to get a room with a king bed.”
“C’mon,” Josie said, grabbing her medical bag from one of her suitcases. “Let’s get this over with.”
Roxanne strolled around the room and seemed to forget she was still holding the leash.
“This is really nice,” she said, glancing out the window at the view. “It’s a beautiful city.”
“It is,” I said, taking the leash from her and bending down to remove it from the dog’s collar. I sat down on one of the couches, and the Jack Russell cocked his head at me. I patted the couch, and the dog hopped up next to me and nestled his head in my lap.
“Jack’s not allowed on the furniture at home,” Roxanne said. “Josh says he needs to remember his place in the pack order. Whatever the heck that means.”
“Well, Jack’s not home at the moment,” I said, rubbing the dog’s head. “Are you, Jack? What a good boy.” I glanced up at Roxanne who seemed even more confused than I was. “Why don’t you sit down so we can chat?”
“Chat? You mean, so you can get a whole bunch of questions answered?” she said, raising a finger at me. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten. You’re quite the snoop when you want to be.”
“Most days, I don’t think it matters if I
want to or not,” I said, shrugging. “It’s usually not an active choice.”
“What?”
“Nothing,” I said, spying the bottle of champagne that was still sitting in the ice bucket. “Now, there’s an idea. Would you like a glass of champagne?”
“Absolutely,” Roxanne said, sitting down on the couch directly across from mine.
I opened the champagne and poured four glasses. I handed one to Roxanne then headed for the bathroom. I opened the door and saw Josie kneeling down and trying to clean Middleton’s wound.
“Hold still,” she snapped. “You’re such a baby.” Then she looked up and saw me. “Champagne. You’re a lifesaver.”
“Oh, thank you,” Middleton said, reaching for a glass with his good hand.
“Hold still,” Josie said, then shook her head and stood up to take a long sip. “How can someone be so afraid of needles and the sight of blood and still call themselves a vet?”
“These days, I mostly consult on cases,” Middleton said. “I haven’t done surgery in years.”
“Score one for the animals,” Josie said, kneeling down to inspect the damage. “Okay, I’m going to hit you up with a couple of shots to numb the area. You’re gonna feel a slight stick.”
“No problem. Ow,” Middleton said, flinching. “You call that a slight stick?”
“Sorry.”
“I bet. How many stitches am I going to get?”
“Just as many as I can manage to fit in,” she said, casually as she paused to take another sip of champagne.
“Is this going to hurt?”
“Oh, you can count on it.”
“You haven’t changed a bit, have you? Ow.”
“Well, I don’t think I’m as tolerant as I used to be,” Josie said, stabbing Middleton’s hand with another shot.
“Ow. Geez, what is wrong with you?”
“I’ll leave you two alone,” I said, shaking my head as I headed back into the living room and sat back down. I waited until Jack got himself comfortable then raised my glass in salute to Roxanne.
“I heard them bickering,” Roxanne said. “They know each other?”
