Something buzzed through the house. She jumped about a foot.
Even he startled a bit. “What unholy sound is that?” Damn, maybe Mrs. Afonsowasan unlikely representative of the occult.
“It’s the front gate.” She got up. “I have it set up so it buzzes my phone but also this wall unit thing over here. I thought that if I lost my phone or didn’t have it on hand when someone buzzed—like now—I needed another way to see and control the gate. But I could definitely turn the volume down.”
“Do you think it’s trick-or-treaters?”
“They don’t bother around here. The houses are too far apart, and many of them are inhabited by people who don’t want to invite strangers onto their property.”
“Is that your way of saying famous people?”
She spoke as she walked across the room. “Some famous people but also just rich assholes. No one trick-or-treated at my house growing up, either.”
“Is that your way of calling yourself a rich asshole?”
“No, it’s my way of calling my parents rich assholes.”
This wasn’t the first time she’d referenced her parents in a negative light. She’d said earlier that moving into this house the first time had represented a hard-won freedom from them. He surprised himself by wanting to know more.
She pressed a button on the wall by the kitchen. “Yes?”
“It’s me.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m just a girl, standing at the gate of another girl, asking her to buzz me in.”
Blair snorted, and in short order Jack was being introduced to a statuesque brunette wearing an off-white onesie with a hood trimmed with fluffy white fur, a blue headband, and an absurdly large blue brooch.
“Jack Branksome, this is Tiffany Murphy,” Blair said. “She’s my producing partner and the chief operating officer of my company and also my best friend. You met on the Zoom of Doom.”
“No, no,” the dog-woman said. “I’m not Tiffany Murphy.” She bent her elbows and folded her hands over to look like paws. “I am Chow Chow Wendy.” After posing for a moment she collapsed on the sofa theatrically.
She must have correctly interpreted Jack’s blank stare. “Chow Chow Wendy is a character fromBluey.” The next blank stare yielded more information. “Blueyis an inexplicably yet wildly popular kids’ cartoon about a family of Australian dogs. I was until”—she looked at her watch—“ninety minutes ago dating a man whose child is, like all modern children, obsessed with this show.”
“What!” Blair shrieked. “What happened?”
Chow Chow Wendy ignored Blair in favor of continuing to provide Jack with information he neither had requested nor wanted. “This kid wanted me to join her trick-or-treating. She was Bluey and her dad was Bandit, who is, wait for it, Bluey’s dad. She wanted me to be Chilli. That’s Bluey’s mom.Iwanted to be Chilli. Thank God cooler heads prevailed.”
“And by ‘cooler heads’ you mean my head,” Blair said.
“Yes. You were right. How much do you love hearing that? Want me to say it again? You were right.” She turned to Jack. “She told me not to rush it on the whole stepmom role.” Chow Chow Wendygestured at the wine bottle sitting on the coffee table. “Can I have some of that? In theory, I am here to deliver the punch-ups toGreen Light.” She produced a sheaf of paper from her tote bag and plopped it on the table. “But in reality, I’m here to drink and cry.”
“Of course,” Blair said. “I’ll grab you a…”
Chow Chow Wendy picked up the bottle and emptied the rest of the wine into the huge glass that was sitting unused on the coffee table, filling it almost to the brim.
Blair shot Jack an amused look and sat down next to her friend. “What happened, hon?”
“What happened was he dumped me. We went trick-or-treating, we got back to his house, he sent Bluey inside with her candy, and we stood on the porch in our dog costumes and he told me it wasn’t working anymore.”
“What? Why?” Blair glanced at Jack again, and he somehow knew that was his cue to leave.
“I’ll get out of your hair.” He stood. “Thanks for dinner.”
“You’re welcome,” Blair said.
Chow Chow Wendy sat up from her slouching position and surveyed the remains of their dinner. She looked back and forth between Blair and Jack. “I’m glad you’re keeping Blair company, even if I do think you’re a bit of a—”
