Chasing Stanley (26 page)

“No offense, but when we went shopping I got the sense that you weren't a big fan of the city. You seemed obsessed with crime.”

“No one's gonna hurt me if I'm protected by doggies,” Brandi pointed out brightly.

There was no way Delilah was going to win this one. If she turned Brandi down, her father would begin lobbying by phone day and night, and Brandi would do the same. It was easier to let Brandi try it and then quit.

“Let's give it a try then,” said Delilah. “We can work out the details later.”

“Oh, goody!” Brandi clasped her hands together. “I can't wait to work with the dogs! And get to know everyone in the neighborhood.”

Delilah smiled sweetly. “I'll bet.”

 

 

“Yo, Mitchie.”

Jason hated admitting it, but he'd been avoiding David and Denny since dinner the night before. He'd shown up at Met Gar in the sourest of moods, convinced they were going tease him about Delilah. Now, hearing Denny's voice behind him as he was about to climb onto the team bus, he knew he'd simply been forestalling the inevitable. Jason stepped aside to make room so others could board.

“What's up?” Jason asked, turning up the collar of his coat. He couldn't believe how cold it could get in the open-air tunnel between Met Gar and the adjoining train station, the wind whipping through with a vengeance. It reminded him of standing on the school bus stop in North Dakota as a child. He and Eric would freeze their nuts off. It would get so cold their snot would freeze before it even had a chance to leak from their noses.

“Last night was fun,” said Denny.

“Yeah,” Jason agreed cautiously.

Denny's mouth tilted into a slight smirk. “Your girlfriend's a little shy.”

“She can be.”

“I have to confess,” Denny continued with a derogatory chuckle, “that I was a little surprised.”

“Why? Lots of people are shy.”

“No, not that.” Denny glanced around. “You know.”

“No, I don't know.”

“C'mon, dude. Think.”

Jason was in no mood to play games. “I have no idea what the fuck you're talking about, Denny.”

Denny leaned in and whispered, “I was surprised you're going out with a Jew.”

Jason felt as if someone had just kicked his heart up into his throat. “What did you say?”

“C'mon. Delilah
Gould
? Total Hebe name.”

Jason grabbed Denny and threw him up against the side of the bus. “I should beat the shit out of you right now.”

“Go ahead,” Denny sneered. “Kike lover,” he added under his breath.

Jason's right fist landed a solid blow to Denny's jaw. Denny looked dazed for a second; then he began swinging wildly. It was no use: Jason had him pinned like a butterfly mounted for exhibit. Jason used it to his advantage, landing two more short jabs to Denny's ribs before releasing him with a shove. Denny crumpled to the asphalt with a groan. Before Jason could get in a much-desired kick, two of his teammates jumped in, holding him back. Struggling against them, Jason watched as two more helped the dazed Denny to his feet.

“Someone want to tell me what the fuck is going on here?” Ty Gallagher's voice echoed ominously through the tunnel as he strode into the center of the melee.

“It's nothing,” said Jason. He tried to shake off the teammates restraining him, but they wouldn't let him go.

“Don't give me the ‘It's nothing' line of bullshit. It doesn't wash.” Ty inspected Denny and his rapidly swelling jaw. “What did you say to him?”

“I didn't say anything!” Denny protested.

“Don't insult my intelligence, O'Malley.” Ty pushed Denny's handlers away, planting himself in front of him. “I'll ask it another way: Why did he hit you?”

Denny hesitated. “I dissed his girlfriend.”

“Good one.” Ty's glare was cringe-inducing. “I'm trying to build a team here, and you two are fighting like pussies on the playground.”

Jason hung his head. “I'm sorry, Coach.”

“You should know by now that sorry doesn't cut it.” Ty turned to Denny. “You. Get your ass on the bus.
Now.
”

Denny nodded, holding his face as he dragged himself onto the bus.

“Get one of the trainers to give you some ice!” Ty barked after him. He wheeled around to Jason, his expression of disgust holding steady.

“You gentlemen can get on the bus, too,” he told Jason's teammates. Jason hadn't realized how hard they were holding him until they released him: His arms were throbbing as he waited for Ty to tear him a new one.

Ty took his time, staring at Jason as if he were an exotic yet somewhat repulsive specimen in the zoo he'd never seen before. The longer he stared, the more Jason longed to yell in sheer frustration. Finally Ty just shook his head sadly and sighed. “What the hell am I going to do with you?”

“With all respect, Coach—”

“Did I say you could talk?” Ty snapped.

“No.”

“Nice to see you're not deaf.” Ty tilted back his head, staring up at the concrete ceiling. “I'm trying to think of a nice way to say this.”

Jason awaited his coach's next pronouncement. The longer they stood there with everyone else on the idling bus, the more time Denny had with their teammates to spin his version of what happened. Jason didn't want this ugly incident hanging over the rest of the season. He was relieved when Ty finally deigned to speak to him.

“I don't care if O'Malley said your girlfriend is a dead ringer for Jabba the Hutt. I care about one thing: the team. Fighting fucks that up. It wrecks morale, and I won't have it. If you want a future with this
team
, Jason, you better start thinking seriously about impulse control both on
and
off the ice. Am I making myself clear?”

“Totally.”

“Good. Now get on the bus.”

Jason nodded humbly and climbed up on to the bus, which fell silent. Not quite looking at anyone, he scoured both sides of the aisle for a seat. There was one open next to Michael Dante. That was out, since that's where Ty usually sat. The other available seat was next to Denny O'Malley. Jason would never understand God's perverse sense of humor as he made his way down the aisle to sit beside the man who judged his girlfriend on her religion, not her personality or values. Neither said a word the entire way to the airport.

“ I've never seen
a dog that big in my life!”

The childlike wonder in Brandi's voice almost made Delilah like her. Delilah had just brought Stanley downstairs from her apartment, and together she and Brandi were taking him to the park. Jason paid extra to have him walked privately, and Delilah enjoyed spending time alone with Stanley. It was fun to see people's reactions to him. Plus, silly though it might be, it was a way for her to feel close to Jason.

Stanley wasn't built for speed. Even so, Brandi was struggling to keep up with them. “You might want to wear sneakers rather than high heels if you're serious about wanting to help,” Delilah pointed out.

Brandi glanced down at her Candies. “I guess you're right.” She eyed Stan nervously. “Does he bite?”

“Does he look like he bites?”

Brandi bit her lip. “No. He looks like a big mush.”

“He
is
a big mush.” Delilah patted his back affectionately. “Aren't you, Stan?”

A woman and small girl approached. As they drew closer, the little girl's eyes doubled in size. “Mommy, look! Beethoven!”

“I saw that movie!” Brandi chimed in.

The mother flashed an indulgent smile and quickly moved the child along.

Brandi watched them go. “Wasn't Beethoven actually a Saint Bernard?” she asked after a considerable pause.

“Yup.” Delilah was impressed; not everyone knew the difference between a Newf and a Saint Bernard. Maybe Brandi wasn't a total ding-dong after all.

Delilah took a deep breath, enjoying the rush of cold air to her lungs. There was a metallic tang to the air; it felt like it might snow. Delilah hoped it didn't. Walking dogs in the snow could be a huge pain in the butt, and it distressed her when people paved the snowy sidewalks with rock salt, not knowing or caring how irritating it could be to dogs' paws.

“So, um, could I ask you a question?”

Brandi's high, squeaky voice never failed to catch Delilah by surprise. How could her father stand it, day in, day out? Perhaps he'd lost both his mind
and
his hearing.

“Sure,” said Delilah.

“Why did your parents break up?”

Delilah wasn't sure how to respond. “I'm sure my father's told you all about it,” she said.

“Yes, but he's, you know, biased.”

“So am I.” Delilah couldn't help herself. “What did he say?”

Brandi sighed with the relief of someone who's been holding in something forever, and had finally been given the green light to speak. “Well, he said she could be a drama queen and a bitch and that she accused him of having an affair with his secretary but he wasn't but she wouldn't listen and he thinks she just wanted him out so he wouldn't dirty up her white house.”

Terror struck Delilah's heart. Was that what
she
sounded like when she babbled? If so, Jason was right: she was doomed and needed help.

“It had nothing to do with the house,” said Delilah. She opened the gate to the dog park, ushering Stanley inside.

“Then what?” asked Brandi, kicking up a small spray of gravel with each shuffling step.

“They fought all the time.” Delilah unclipped Stanley's leash, and he immediately trotted off to play with Tango, his shepherd friend at the dog park. And to think that just a few months ago Stanley couldn't even relate to another dog! Delilah filled with pride. She'd done her job well.

“If they fought all the time, then why does he still want to know about her?” Brandi sat down on the nearest bench and took off her right shoe, massaging her cramped toes. “I hear him on the phone sometimes with his friends. He's always asking about her, wanting to know what this one's heard or what that one knows. It bothers me.”

Much to her surprise, Delilah actually felt sympathetic. “They still have a lot of mutual friends, Brandi. And they were married for close to thirty years. You can't just erase that overnight.”

Brandi pressed her lips together. “I guess.”

Delilah longed to ask
her
a question or two, like,
Do you really love my father, or do you just want his money?
She suspected it was a bit of both. She had no doubt Brandi was fond of her father. But it was Sy's net worth that enabled Brandi to look past the liver spots, of that Delilah was sure.

“Ladies!”

Delilah turned.
Eric.
She couldn't believe it. Jason wasn't kidding when he said Eric had an innate GPS. He was jogging toward the dog park with a big smile on his face. Delilah shot a quick look at Brandi. Her poutiness was rapidly transforming itself into the mindless vivacity Delilah knew all too well. She made a decision right there: if Brandi flirted wildly with Eric, Delilah was going to go running to her daddy and tell.

Eric entered the park and flopped down on the bench beside Brandi, breathless and sweating. “God, I hate exercising.”

Brandi looked surprised. “But you're an athlete.”

“All the more reason I hate having to do it in my spare time.” He mopped his brow, gaze scouring the dog park. “Ah! There's my nephew.”

“Nephew?” Brandi looked totally confused.

Eric pointed at Stanley. “That black beast over there is my brother's dog.”

“He's a mush.”

“I think you mean wuss.”

“Hey!” Delilah protested. “No one's allowed to say anything mean about Stanley. Got it?”

“Wouldn't dream of it.” Eric tilted his head back and shot a stream of Gatorade down his throat. “So, Brandi.” His voice was caressing.

Delilah tensed.

“I've been meaning to call you about those hockey tickets, but things have been kind of crazy.”

“Oh, don't worry about it,” Brandi assured him. “I've been busy, too.”

“Yeah, doing what?” His gaze slowly crept down to Brandi's cleavage. “Acting?”

“Planning my wedding.”

Eric deflated. “Oh.”

Delilah suppressed a smirk.

“But I'd still love to go to a game,” Brandi enthused.

Eric smiled flirtatiously. “Should I call the number at the spa-thingie?”

“You mean, the spalon?” Brandi whispered in a pained voice.

Eric nodded.

“I was fired.”

Eric looked indignant. “How could anyone
ever
fire you?”

He was laying it on so thick Delilah wished she had a trowel she could hand him.

“It's okay, though,” Brandi continued. “I'm going to be helping out Delilah.”

“Temporarily,” Delilah clarified.

“Well, Jason will be glad,” Eric said to Delilah. He regarded Brandi. “Jason is my brother, by the way. He's also Delilah's boyfriend.”

“Yes, Leelee mentioned that at brunch the other day,” said Brandi.

“Leelee?”
Eric snorted.

Delilah gave Eric the death stare. “It's a childhood nickname.” She rose. “We should be getting back. The dogs need to be fed.” She handed Brandi Stanley's leash. “Why don't you go see if you can get this on Stanley and bring him over here?”