Beneath the Glitter: A Novel (Sophia and Ava London) (14 page)

“You to put on your seat belt?”

Looking down she realized he was right, she wasn’t wearing it. God, he was annoying! She jammed the belt into the clasp and he pulled away from the curb.

He surprised her by staying silent for most of the ride, until they got close to Zuma. Then he said, “Have you ever done anything like this before?”

She found herself searching his voice for sarcasm but there wasn’t any. “No. But I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

Dalton did a U-turn and pulled the van onto the rocky shoulder of the highway, right next to the ocean. “The report we got is that someone abandoned a mother German shepherd and a litter of puppies on the beach. They’re trapped in the breakwater and the tide is coming in which means this could get ugly. High tide is in about half an hour. Whatever happens, I’m in charge. Got that?”

Ava nodded.

“I’m serious. This could get ugly. If I say we leave, we leave.”

“Aye, aye, captain.”

He looked at her. “Okay. Grab the ropes, the harnesses, the two baskets with the blankets in them, and the muzzle stick and come with me.”

The words “breakwater,” “tide,” “trapped,” and “could get ugly” took on new meaning in person. The sun was rising behind them, painting bands of orange and blue across the sky and sending scattered points of light along the surface of the ocean. The shoulder of the road was ten feet above the beach now but Ava could tell by the lines in the wall of jagged rocks that supported it that at high tide the water would reach to nearly where they were standing. Good-sized waves pounded the sand and the tide was already moving up the beach in frothy lines.

There was a steady wind which whipped Ava’s hair out of its ponytail. The air was cool but not cold, yet Ava had goose bumps. She had to lean close to hear Dalton.

“There!” Dalton pointed to a spot a little below them and to the left.

Ava made out the mother dog and, against the wall, the tinier shapes of five puppies. “They’re safe.”

“For now. When the tide comes up—”

Ava nodded. “—they’ll be completely underwater.” She understood why he’d been so insistent now.

“And so will we,” Dalton stressed. “We can only work until the water reaches that wall. After that we won’t be safe either. Which gives us about half an hour.”

“Why are we talking?”

They tied the ropes to the hitch on the van. Dalton went down the rocks first, using the rope to descend quickly despite the basket and supplies he was holding. Ava brought the muzzle stick and the backpack with first aid supplies.

They landed five feet from the dogs, close enough to get a look but far enough to avoid overly alarming the mother. What Ava saw on the beach broke her heart. Apparently understanding the danger she and her puppies were in, the mother had dragged objects from all over the beach—a bright blue plastic margarita glass, a red Converse shoe, a Superman sippy cup, a battered green bottle—using other people’s discarded junk to create a safe haven for her puppies.

Unfortunately, it wouldn’t last a second against the tide, which had risen visibly even in the minutes they’d been there. Tying the ropes off among the rocks, Dalton took a step toward the enclosure.

The mother dog began to bark furiously, hissing him away. Spit frothed at the corners of her mouth and her ears were pinned back against her head.

“She’s under an enormous amount of stress.” Dalton said to Ava, without moving his eyes from the mother dog. “We have to calm her down. We won’t be able to get to the puppies unless we get her out first.”

“We don’t have time to calm her down,” Ava said, watching the water.

“Yes,” Dalton told her, “we do.”

She realized what he was saying without saying it, that the calmer they were, the calmer the dog would be. Ava took a deep breath as he took another step toward the mother.

She hissed again, saliva gathering at the corners of her strong jaw and around her sharp incisors.

“You know proper first aid for a dog bite, right?” Dalton asked casually. “Just in case?”

“No.” Ava shook her head. “So don’t get bitten.”

“Thanks.”

Ava had been watching the water but something compelled her to turn now toward the dogs. She found the mother dog staring at her.

Without saying anything Ava made a low clicking noise in the back of her throat and took a step toward the dog.

The dog stayed where she was, watching Ava intently.

Ava took another step. The dog didn’t move.

Ava’s heart was pounding so hard in her chest she was surprised it wasn’t visible.
Sophia will kill you if you miss the meeting because you had your hand bitten off,
she told herself.

If you have your hand bitten off that meeting will be the least of your worries,
another voice pointed out.

Ava’s feet suddenly felt cold and looking down she saw that the last wave had covered her shoes. The next one would be higher. They didn’t have a second to lose.

She took another step and without hesitating lunged forward, grabbed the mother dog by the collar, and hauled her away from the puppies in one smooth motion.

For a moment Dalton just stood there gaping but then he sprang into action. Ava crouched down next to the mother dog, talking to her and holding her attention while Dalton stepped into the walled-off sanctuary and began scooping up the puppies. He put them all into one of the baskets with the blanket that they’d brought down, and carried it toward Ava and the mother.

The water was now past their ankles.

“We did it,” Ava said.

“Not yet. I think you should go up with the mother first, to keep her calm. Then I’ll come up with the puppies.”

Ava coaxed the mother dog into the free basket and tied a rope to it. Using the other rope she scaled the rocks as quickly as she could with the equipment bag on her back, her wet shoes sloshing and slipping down the rocks, her fingers, numb with cold from the water and the wind, barely able to hold the rope.

She was out of breath when she got to the top but she didn’t waste a moment and began hauling the mother dog up. It was harder than she expected and her biceps were screaming in protest by the time the basket crested the top of the wall.

Maddeningly, it took her three tries to adequately tie the mother dog to the fender of the van because her hands were shaking so much from cold and exertion. When the big dog was secure, she stepped back to the edge of the shoulder to haul the other basket up.

Just in time to see one of the puppies slip out of the basket and go running down the beach, diagonally toward the water.

Ava could imagine the calculus Dalton was doing. He couldn’t put the basket of puppies down to chase after the other dog, but if he took them he wouldn’t be able to go as—

Cradling the basket in one arm, Dalton leaped forward, grabbing the puppy and raising it and the basket in the air as a wave came crashing over him.

For one terrible moment the only part of Dalton Ava could see were his two hands, one holding a basket of mewling puppies and the other holding a single pup that kept trying to twist himself away.

Then Dalton sat up, used his shoulder to wipe the water off one lens of his glasses, and got to his feet.

Ava hadn’t realized that she’d stopped breathing but when Dalton stood up and started walking toward her with both the basket of puppies and the one roamer, she brought her hand to her mouth and took a deep, ragged breath. She wasn’t sure if she was laughing or crying.

The sun was cresting the mountains behind them, sending a line of dancing white spots across the ocean behind Dalton and making him, with his glasses and soaking wet shirt and jeans, look like some kind of (very fit) hipster hero. Holding the basket of puppies up with one hand and the wayward puppy up in the other he gave her a huge smile and then Ava knew she was laughing.

Ava saw that the water was above his waist as he tied the basket of puppies to the rope and tugged it twice to signal she could begin hauling it up. It was lighter than the mother had been but it still took effort and her biceps and forearms stung with every pull. Finally she got them up, setting them next to their mother, and tugged on Dalton’s rope.

The end came up easily. She peered over the edge—

—and was nearly knocked backward by Dalton vaulting over the top of the seawall. Only his arm, coming around her waist to grab her at the last minute, kept her from falling.

Their bodies were pressed so closely together that she could feel his heart racing and the warmth of his breath on her neck. Or was it her heart? Slowly she raised her eyes to his.

He looked away almost immediately.

“You’re freezing,” she said. “We have to get you out of those wet clothes.”

“Unfortunately, unlike you I didn’t bring half my wardrobe.”

She gave him an appraising look. “And unfortunately I don’t think I’m your size.”

He did look at her then, right at her, and seemed like he was about to say something. That was when they realized that he was still holding her, that she was still standing pressed up against him, that her arms had gone around his waist for absolutely no reason at all.

What are you doing?
she asked herself, stepping backward so hastily that she almost put her foot into the basket of puppies.

He pulled away at the same moment and nearly catapulted himself back down the seawall.

“You get the dogs—” he said at the same time that Ava said, “I’ll pick up the supplies—”

Ava stopped. “You’re in charge. What’s next?”

They secured the puppies in the back and let the mother dog sit up front with them. Rooting around the equipment bag for some gauze, Dalton’s hand closed on something unfamiliar and he pulled out a green glass bottle.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“A souvenir.” Ava started to lean close to him then stopped herself abruptly. “It was part of the wall the dog made. Hold it up to the light. Do you see?”

Dalton twisted the bottle around. “What’s in there?”

“A message!” Ava said. “It’s a message in a bottle.”

“Should we open it?”

“No way,” she said, taking it from him. “Besides, I need it for my meeting.”

“You really do have a meeting? I thought that was just an excuse to bring a bag as big as the trailer I live in.”

“You don’t live in a trailer.”

“Wanna bet?”

“Where are there trailer parks in
LA
?”

“What kind of meeting?”

Ava glanced at the clock in the dashboard of the van. “The kind I’m going to be late for.” She looked at him. “Unless you’ll drop me there instead of going right to the shelter. It’s on Wilshire in Santa Monica.”

Dalton agreed and while he drove she took her bags into the back of the van with the pups and shimmied into her clothes.

She should tell the Shaveventure people about this, she thought—shaving in a van that not only contains live animals but also a boy you’re trying to avoid flashing while going 60 mph made the phone-booth stunt seem like a piece of cake.

She’d given up trying to tame her hair or put on eyeliner and was struggling with her mascara when Dalton said, “Hey. Thanks.”

Ava paused with the mascara wand halfway to her eye. “For what?”

“Out there. You were great. How you handled the mother was amazing. And hauling all that stuff. I know guys who couldn’t have done it.”

“Really?”

“No. Well, maybe little guys. Still, it was great working with you.”

“Thanks. It was great working with you too.”

Ava found she was having trouble keeping her cheeks in the proper position to apply blush because she was grinning so much. Not to mention that the van seemed to hit a bump every time she got the stick near her face. She gave up on blush too.

When she was as together as she was going to get in a confined space surrounded by wet puppies—she’d given up on her belt, letting her minidress float lose around her—she ducked back into the passenger seat. Dalton glanced at her. “You look very nice.”

She laughed. “Thank you. And you look very action hero-ish.”

“I’m going to imagine that in your world that’s a compliment.”

Her smile vanished and the frown line appeared between her brows. “What does that mean?”

He shrugged. “Just that my ideal isn’t to resemble some cookie-cutter tool for marketing fast cars and liquor.”

“And that’s exactly what I had in mind.”

“It is whether you realized it or not. All of that, the movies, is really about selling something. First making people feel like they’re missing something because they’re not perfect like the people on the screen, and then making them feel like they can at least fill a tiny part of that void by buying whatever car or soap or shaving cream they see the hero using.”

“You’ve thought a lot about this for someone who doesn’t care.”

“And you haven’t, for someone who’s in the middle of it.” He shook his head. “Don’t you ever get tired of selling stuff? Makeup? Liam Carlson?”

“I’m not selling stuff,” Ava said, putting the phrase in finger quotes, sitting up straight. “Not the way you mean. I’m just being myself.” She sat with her back to the door, facing his profile. “Why are you so quick to judge all the time? Why do you think you’re the only one who has the right idea and understands how things really are?” She knew what she was saying was true, but somewhere at the back of her mind she suspected that maybe her frustration wasn’t only with him. “Why do you care?”

“It just seems like kind of a waste.”

“I’m going to imagine that in your world that’s a kind of compliment,” she shot back at him. “I’ve had enough of you, Mr. Judgey McJudgeypants. Maybe if you gave people a chance instead of pushing them away all the time you’d be able to smile once in a while.”

He pulled up to the curb in front of the LuxeLife offices on Wilshire Boulevard. “Did you just call me Mr. Judgey McJudgeypants?” Ava saw that his jaw was tight.

Good. Maybe she’d hit a nerve. “Yes,” she said defiantly. “And I’m not sorry.” She got out of the van, dragged her bags after her, and slammed the door.
You will not turn around,
she told herself.
You will walk straight in and not look back at him.