It was a balmy night. Not warm. Not cold. A perfect temperature for a short stroll to pee. It's quiet. The only sounds that Dan and his little dog could hear is the pulsing soft hum of the freeway on the other side of the hill. He took a swig from his bottle of Jack Daniels and looked down to appreciate his little bundle of joy.
Nicky had wanted a dog. Dan, had also wanted a dog. Nicky had wanted something small and cute. Dan had wanted something large, and fun to wrestle with. Nicky had gotten her way, and brought home a beautiful little Maltese and named her Sadie. Dan didn't like the idea, or the name, but Sadie warmed up to him right away. Ironically, she never liked Nicky, and rarely (if ever) obeyed her. When Nicky threw Dan out, she insisted he take "his" dog with him. His dog.
Here he was, a man in his late 20's, thin, single, with decent fashion sense, and a thirteen pound dog named Sadie. It was too bad he wasn't attracted to men, because if it weren't for that one failing, he'd make a great catch in the gay dating scene. Jesus Christ, he was never going to get laid again. With that thought, he took another long pull on his bottle.
A car pulled up beside the patch of grass that Sadie was furiously investigating, while Dan watched. It's brakes made an almost inaudible whine right at the last second before stopping. Dan could hear the parking brake engaged, and the loud purr of the engine shut off.
It was about 9 pm and Dan was waiting under a streetlight for Sadie to find just the right spot to pee. Sadie, like many dogs, was keenly aware that every pee has a preordained perfect spot. Every pee has it's own destiny and she would be damned if she won't find it. Sometimes it might happen right at the outset of the trip. Just two simple sniffs and... AH-HA! There's the rub. Mission accomplished, and the bladder emptied. But not tonight. Tonight she was taking her time, so Dan let his eyes wander over the newly arrived car.
It was just outside the orangey pool of streetlamp light, so Dan couldn't make out the model, but he could plainly see it was expensive. He could tell by the shape, the lines of the thing. It was a car that made a statement, and that statement was "I have money." Probably one of Paul's rich, asshole friends. Dan found himself crashing in his father's guest room. Paul was only allowed to grant him this after his wife, Rebecca insisted on several cold and insulting conditions, one of which being he was to be back out of their house in no more than sixty days. This being only his second week, he was taking some time out for some good, old fashioned, self destructive wallowing. As though surprised to remember he was still sober, and suddenly reminded that this was currently a condition he was not fond of, he took another swig from his bottle, while Sadie continued to search.
Through the car window he could see the vague shape of a female driver with a cigarette between her lips. Dan decides to call her "The Duchess." Just as quickly, it occurs to him that he's being unfairly judgemental. This woman may be a maid or nanny for some rich bitch, and just happened to be driving her employer's car on an errand. That happened all the time in the circles that Paul and Rebecca ran in. Then the car door opened.
A blond woman in her mid 40s stepped out of the driver's side. She sighed for a moment, looked around and dropped what was left of her cigarette, and cruched the butt with her high heal shoe. Her eyes slowly creep up from the cigarette and connect with Dan's. An expression flits across her lips. Was that a smile? If it was, it was a weak smile. Calling it half-hearted would have been giving it too much credit. It was a smile that made it very clear that it was the minimal possible effort she could manage at being pleasant. As if to say "you don't look important enough for a full smile. I'm saving those up. You get this one instead. It's the same one I give to the neighbor whose dog shits on my lawn."
Yep. "The Duchess" it is.
Apparently, Sadie had just then finished her potty break. That head-to-toe shake that dogs do when wet is something of a tick for Sadie. She'll shake when she's just gotten up from a nap. She'll shake when she's just finished eating. She also shakes whenever she's just finished peeing, something akin to the human male's "follow up jiggle."
The Duchess was apparently startled by the sound of Sadie's tiny ears slapping against the sides of her tiny dog head as she enjoyed her good shake. The Duchess's attention shifted from Dan to Sadie, and suddenly the woman's fake-almost smile grew to a full beaming ear-to-ear, toothy grin. This is the one she probably gives to the pool boy who is secretly banging her behind her husband's back. There I go again, Dan thought. I don't even know if she's married. Or if she even has a pool.
She then looked back to Dan, gracing him with this new, upgraded smile. "Your dog is SO adorable. What's her name?" Apparently Dan was somehow also SO adorable by association. Suddenly now he was worthy.
He might have responded favorably if it were not for the sickening smell of stale cigarettes and hand lotion pouring off of her. Or maybe it was the copious amounts of booze that got in his way. Who could know?
"You want her?"
"...excuse me?" The Duchess's smile shrank, but only a little. She was deciding whether or not he was joking.
"It seems to me, this is all you're missing."
"Missing? I'm not sure I follow."
"Oh yeah, lady. I mean, you've got the ridiculously expensive car, and the shoes, and the rich friends. All you need is a little dog to spoil. You'd need to go buy a Coach bag to carry her around in everywhere, of course, but yeah. I think you need her more than me." He punctuated this with a large belch.
"What a horrible young man you are. I hope you treat her better than you treat complete strangers."
"Oh yeah, light of my life, this one. Apple of my eye. Man's best friend." The Duchess began to walk away. "You sure you don't want her? No? Wrong color, I guess, yeah? Yeah, you know, you're right. She wouldn't look right with those shoes."
Dan was definitely talented at being an asshole. That was undisputed.
"Come on, Pooper. Let's go get you a treat."
...more to come
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