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Most of the older ladies in the condo have purse dogs like little miniature poodles or a yappy Maltese, but not Mrs. Montgomery. She had to have a giant German shepherd named Trixie. She swears Trixie is just a puppy, but the size and heft of the bulldozer-like pet suggests otherwise. Deep down I’m slightly jealous of Trixie. She has a diamond-encrusted collar and only drinks imported water. I remember the day Mrs. Montgomery told me the hefty price of that collar, even furnishing papers to show she had it insured. Damn dog lives better than I do.
“Jessica, thank heavens you showed up just in time,” says Mrs. Montgomery, smiling to reveal yellow teeth with a smear of lipstick on them. “I need to go back up to my apartment for a moment. Trixie’s in a mood and is being a little stubborn.”
I pull my lips into a tight line. Every time I see Mrs. Montgomery she calls me by the wrong name. I’ve been called Jessica, Jasmine and Janelle on more than one occasion and once all three names during a single conversation. At this point I’m somewhat grateful she at least calls me by a J-name, even if it’s the wrong one. When we first met, she used to simply snap her fingers at me to get my attention.
After ignoring her and allowing a few elevator doors to “accidentally” close in her face, she started trying to call me by a name, even if it’s not mine.
“It’s Jade,” I say.
She claps her hand to her forehead as if she just forgot, her withered fingers weighted down with several diamond and ruby rings.
“Jade, that’s right. Sorry, honey,” she says. “As I was saying, Trixie is being a bit stubborn and I just need you to hold on to her while I run upstairs to grab some filet mignon to coax her back inside. Based on how stubborn she’s acting, I may have to bring in the big guns and grab that imported pâté she likes. At two grand a pop, I completely understand why she loves it so much.”
I try to wave her off and sidestep my way around Mrs. Montgomery. “Well, I ca—”
But before I’m able to finish the word, she shoves the leash into my hands and waddles right by me.
“Thanks, darling, I’ll be right back,” she says, disappearing inside before stepping into the elevator.
I look down at Trixie, feeling well… tricked. Magdalene only gives me an hour and a half to shop and my already-limited time is ticking away. I pull out my phone to check how long I have left.
Shit.
I glance back at the lobby for a sign of Mrs. Montgomery, but it’s empty.
What the hell is taking her so long? Maybe I can tie Trixie to a post and just apologize to Mrs. Montgomery later.
As if she can read my mind and knows I’m trying to get rid of her, Trixie starts to pull away from me. Given her size and strength, versus my own, she easily wins the brief game of tug-of-war and the leash slips from my hand.
“Damn it, Trixie, get back here,” I say, but it’s too late. Trixie takes off running, her diamond-studded collar reflecting brightly in the sunlight.
Mrs. Montgomery is going to kill me.
I chase after Trixie, cursing loudly under my breath. She weaves in and out of the parked cars and heads to the alley. I inhale and exhale, measuring my breaths as I kick my high-school track star talent into high gear.
Trixie turns the corner, but I’m right on her heels and manage to get close enough to dive for the leash just as she enters the alley.
“Gotcha,” I say, grabbing the leash.
Trixie and I both pant loudly as we struggle to catch our breath. I really want to tie her to something and leave her to be Mrs. Montgomery’s problem once again.
Just as I’m about to drag Trixie back to our building, loud voices draw my attention further down the alleyway. I instantly recognize the dirty jumpsuit worn by Grant, the lazy maintenance man of the building next door. I don’t consider him the maintenance man of anything really. Most of the time, he’s in this alley smoking a cigarette or sitting in the stairwell of our building arguing loudly with his girlfriend on the phone. Here he is yet again, arguing with someone else, judging by the heated exchange between the two. I take a few steps closer as the man Grant is going at it with turns just enough for me to catch his profile. I’m stunned for a moment, but quickly regain my senses. I’d know that face anywhere, even though I’ve only seen it briefly from afar.
It’s him. Mr. Peeping Tom from the other day.
I instantly make up my mind to confront the creepy asshole on the spot. I want him to know he’s busted and his little game is over. This is as good a time as any, especially since I doubt he will try anything crazy with Grant standing around as a witness, or Trixie standing in as my bodyguard.
