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She cut me off with a searing glare. “I edited your paper. Your command of language was superb once I edited the small issues." She shook her head and dug in her bag for a high-end double-walled aluminum water bottle. "What a subject! The Paradoxical Irony in The Lame Shall Enter First." She picked up the cash and shook it at me. "I’ll bet you this wad of cash that you’ll get no less than a ninety-six. That’s why you gave me the money.”
Fastening Betina with my most winning smile, I explained, “It turns out, I had paid her to edit my American Lit term paper, and we decided to spend a little more time working on it.” Yeah, right.
I pursed my lips at Diana’s ego and then sat back down in my chair, stretched out, and rested my folded hands over my waist. So, my hippy friend’s sister is a smarty-pants.
The cash was back on the table, and she fanned a corner of it. "I can’t keep your money. Your paper only needed minimal editing. Buy me lunch and we’ll call it even.’”
I wanted her for more than lunch, so I went all in. “Look, this was a windfall, I didn’t earn this. It’s meant to be blown. Let’s go blow it!” On second thought, with her tastes, it might be gone by sunset. “Both of our fingertips were poised on the cash. Hey, let’s get out of here, go to the beach. You surf? I surf.
“She whipped her wet hank of hair off her shoulders. ‘Yeah, I surf. But…’
“We were being conservative, so I took her to Bob’s Big Boy for lunch. She scrutinized every page of what seemed like an endless menu and then opted for the salad bar. When we settled back into the booth she bounced with excitement. ‘I just thought of the perfect place for us to go, Stinson Beach. You know I grew in Mill Valley.’
What I didn’t tell them was her friend’s parents owned an old motor court called the Oasis. It’s small, cheap, and practically on the beach. Plus, we’d dodge the freeloaders.
“She was speaking my language. We went back to the event hotel to get my van.” In a hotel room women like a ten-inch surprise, but this one was on four legs. “I had my head turned, laughing with Diana as I opened the door to my room, and here comes this mini leviathan, tiny teeth bared with a staccato yelp, going for my ankle. I looked down with a “What the…” and Diana was on her knees in front of the little black and white thing with ears. That dog had ears for days!”
My pleasant memories were interrupted by the troublesome present at the Bauder estate. Through the open study doorway, I could see Diana taking a silver tray from a woman in a uniform and heading our way. She carried the tea tray through the door and spoke as if finding the dog was the most natural thing in the world. “Oh, are you telling Mama and Papa about finding Henri in your room?”
Her mother raised a brow. “What were you doing in this young man’s room?”
Diana didn’t miss a beat. “We decided to go for the day to Stinson Beach, we stopped in my room first for my beachwear, and then went to Gid’s room for his.”
I could tell we were in perilous waters, so I took over the narrative. “Yeah, I was just gonna grab my backpack, and suddenly here’s this little dog yapping at me. My roommate, you met Bluto, left a note saying this was his mom’s dog, she was going out of town overnight and left the dog for him to watch, but he had to be at the tournament. He asked me to feed and walk the dog till he got back. Yeah, Mcdonald’s gives free burgers for dogs. We had the dog, check. Leash, check. Food? It’s out there.”
Duckworth leaned forward pouring tea. “So, Mr. Bluto is the one who placed the dog in your custody?”
I stared at him in confusion. “Yeah…” What does the dog have to do with anything?
Diana supported me. “Pa-Pa, Gideon was with me the whole morning. We came back to the room and found Bluto had left the dog.”
While Duckworth and Betina poured tea and digested that, I thought about what really happened.
“Aw, where did you come from?” Diana purred, stroking the dog’s head and grinning ear to ear. She turned those green eyes up at me. “You didn’t mention you had a dog!” She was head down adoring this little freak, while he licked her face with the same tongue that licked his balls.
I headed to the sheet of loose-leaf paper under the mug on the nightstand. “I don’t have a dog.” I picked up the note and shook my head. “Damn Bluto!” I fisted the note and shook it at Diana. “My idiot friend’s mother gave him the dog to watch. He’s dumping it on me.”
“He’s little. We could take him with us. C’mon, let’s take him to the beach.” Great. I’ve been cockblocked by a seven-pound dog. “Aw, what a good boy! What’s his name?”
“I dunno. What does the collar say?” I read the tag on the thin velvet collar. “Henry.”
“No!” Diana fawned, holding the mutt. “It’s Henri. He’s French!” Henri should have been named Ornery. He made it clear he loved Diana and hated my guts.
One of the great things about my VW bus, aside from carrying my board without a hassle, is that the front seat is a bench. That means my dates can sit closer than in a bucket seat. Unfortunately, Henri came with a morals clause. There was no way my right hand was going to rest on Diana’s thigh. No way.
I backed out of the parking space with the dog growling at me every time I shifted gears. I shrugged. “I don’t get it. Dogs usually like me.” Diana scratched the petite pup behind his ear, and the little bastard closed his eyes with pleasure. I could relate, if only…
“Well, he doesn’t know you. He’s probably just nervous. Can you imagine having Bluto for a brother?”
I hung my arms over the wide steering wheel and squinted into the sun. “Yeah. What a bummer. Just let me point out, he doesn’t know you either.”
She cuddled the dog. “Well, maybe he’s hungry.”
“Fine.” I gritted my teeth and downshifted into the McDonald’s parking lot. “You want anything while we’re feeding the little prince, here?”
“Oooh. How about a strawberry shake?”
I ordered a dog’s burger, one large shake, and one large soft-serve cone. We pulled into a parking space, and I unwrapped the disk of questionable meat on a sesame seed bun. The dog stared at the meat, gave me a suspicious glare, and turned his nose up. Sitting in that hot parking lot with the windows down, I glared back at the beast and picked up the brown patty. I changed my expression, eyes wide, and with a high-pitched, enthusiastic voice, held up the meat and shook my head as if I was going in for a kill. As I neared the little asshole’s mouth I prodded, “This is so good! I know you want to eat it all gone. Yummy, yummy, juicy…” and with those words, the woman getting out of the car next to Diana pulled her prepubescent daughter away from my bus as if I were some kind of pervert.
