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“Wes tells me you liked the ‘Walk in the Forest’ mushrooms,” Owen says, smiling brightly.
Maybe too brightly. Dude needs to tone it down. The woman is not an idiot. She’s going to suspect something. Which she would be right to.
“They were really good,” she says carefully.
After an awkward moment, I jump back in. “Livvy, do you have a moment? There’s something important we want to discuss with you.”
“What’s that?” she asks, alarmed.
She looks from one of us to the other, already on the defensive.
This is so not going to work. We should have just sent our lawyers. Which would be shitty, of course, even more shitty than what we’re doing right now.
But hey, it’s just business.
I finger the folder in my hand that contains all the numbers I’ve crunched as well as the initial offer for the purchase. Of course, I expect her to counter our proposal.
I cut to the chase. “We’d like to buy you out of this space so we can expand EastSide.”
Color drains from her face, and her mouth drops open.
Uh-oh.
But because I have her attention, I continue with my pitch, which sounds more and more pitiful with every word.
That’s when the doorbell screeches again. An elderly woman with a dog breezes in. Or should I say adogwith anelderlyperson walks in? The dog is definitely the one in control.
“Hello, hello, hello,” she calls, waving at all of us. “Busy here today, huh?”
She brushes past Enzo, where the top of her head just reaches his elbow, and lets the dog leash go, like the shop is a safe place for him.
But that doesn’t meanweare safe from him.
“Oh, Mrs. Perkins,” Livvy starts to say, “can you keep ahold of Sinbad? You know how… enthusiastic he gets.”
Put out, Mrs. Perkins sighs and turns just in time for her charge to lift a hind leg and relieve himself. Right on one of Owen’s expensive Italian shoes.
Owen jumps, but it’s too late. His shoe, sock, and the leg of his pants are wet with dog pee.
Mrs. Perkins reaches for Sinbad’s leash, but he runs away. When I try to help, he snatches the business proposal out of my hand, runs to a corner, and sinks his teeth into my handiwork, chomping hungrily.
Owen shakes his leg like that will get rid of the dog pee, I dodge Sinbad’s sharp canines to get my mangled papers back, and Enzo dives for his leash, knocking over a tower of pet aromatherapy ampules.
Mrs. Perkins adds to the commotion by alternately screaming at the dog and then at us, accusing us of poisoning him with our papers. Livvy’s eyes are wide with abject shock, horror, and helplessness.
You can’t make this shit up.
13
WESTON
“Stop! Everybody stop!”Livvy shrieks, waving her arms like some kind of movie director holleringcutin the middle of a botched scene.
Her outburst is so bloodcurdling, everyone stops for a moment, even the damn dog. “Gentlemen,out,”she yells, pointing at the door.
No problem, lady, like we really want to be here, for fuck’s sake. I can’t speak for the guys, but I’m out of this freakshow. The general humiliation and irritation at the thwarting of my five-star pitch has me realizing I should have just stayed in bed all day and watched porn.
Just as Owen, Enzo, and I inch towards the door, like we’re afraid to turn our backs on the madness, Mrs. Perkins calmly picks up Sinbad’s leash. The dog drops the papers he’s already destroyed, and, with great authority, Mrs. Perkins inexplicably passes the leash to Enzo.
