What the Dog Ate (14 page)

Maggie felt like a schoolmarm
standing in the center of a raucous saloon.

“Wow,” Helen said. “That’s—”

“I know; it’s crazy.” Her hand
sought her heart-shaped jade pendant she often wore. Her dad had given it to
her when she turned sixteen. She rubbed it like a gambling addict fingering his
last coin.

“I was going to say special.”

“It’s not special. It just happened
that way. I mean, I fully expected to have some hot, casual sex when I went
away to college. I’d had boyfriends in high school, but no one special, ya’
know? No one I was even remotely serious about.” She sighed. “I started college
thinking I was so ready; going to sow my wild oats, or whatever. But then it
turned out, I had these very tame oats on my hands. I mean, these were some
seriously domesticated oats.”

Helen smiled, her hand over her
mouth.

“I met Dave right away and I
thought we were having casual sex, but, who knew? He turned out to be my first
and, so far, only love.”

“Maggie, that
is
special.”

“Yeah. So special that my so-called
one and only love started boinking another woman.”

“Well, that part’s not so special.
That part sucks. Total
merde
.”

“You said it.” They sat for a
minute in silence, Maggie studying her cuticles. When she looked up again, she
said, “Let’s change the subject.”

“Sure.”

“So... I’m attempting this new
thing, where I try to think more like Kona. I ask myself what he would do in
any given situation, and then try to act like him.”

“You’re planning to sniff people’s
crotches and eat everything that isn’t nailed down?”

Maggie laughed. “OK, maybe I won’t
act a
lot
like Kona, but, you know, try to go with
the flow more. Don’t over-think everything.”

“Sounds like a good idea.” Helen
nodded her head in approval. “So, you’ll be following his
dog
trine?
Get it?”

“Yes, you’re very clever. But, I’m
wondering then... if I’m trying to think like Kona, maybe I made the wrong
decision, saying no to Russell?”

“You’re saying Kona would have
slept with him?”

Maggie smiled. “Not exactly. What I
meant was, Kona’s always up for some fun. In fact, with the exception of going
to the vet, he sees potential for fun in every situation. And he never worries
about the consequences.”

“I’m sure that’s true, but dogs
also only do something if it feels right. And I know you didn’t think sleeping
with Russell felt right.”

“You’re right,” Maggie said.
“Right, right, right. I really do just want us to be friends.” She pictured
that kiss again.
Right?

~~~

Maggie had two bikes, the old
beater of a cruiser that she rode for bayside jaunts and a sleek road bike that
Dave had given her for Christmas five years ago. She hadn’t realized how much
she’d missed riding. She loved the wind in her face, working up a sweat, the
freedom. She timed herself on the hill at Torrey Pines each week. She liked
seeing the times drop.

The second Sunday after their
moment-that-was-definitely-a-moment, Russell joined Maggie on her ride. They’d
exchanged a few emails, but it was the first time she’d seen him. She felt
awkward at first, but he acted as if nothing had happened, so she soon felt
normal again.

As promised, she kicked his butt up
Torrey Pines. She pulled away on the steep incline and then made a show of
waiting for him at the top. She looked at her watch and tapped her cycling shoe
on the asphalt as he rode up behind her, panting. She suggested they ride a bit
further to a spot with a view of La Jolla Shores where they could rest and eat
an energy bar.

When they stopped, overlooking the
beach below, he took his helmet off and fluffed his brown locks.

“There’s no primping on bike rides,
Mister,” she said.

“I wasn’t primping. I was cooling
my head.” He gnawed at the bar she gave him. “Mmmm, yummy,” he’d said, deadpan.
“Just like momma used to make.”

“I know they’re not great, but eat
it. You need it, if you’re going to keep up with me.”

When they got back home, Russell
confessed to being beat. “You were right. You kicked my ass. But, you wait.
I’ll get in better shape. I’ll beat you up that hill one day.”

They agreed to try and ride every
Sunday and made a deal that whoever lost on the hill each week had to provide
the energy bars for the next ride.

“Just be sure whatever you bring me
is either some sort of chocolate or peanut butter flavor,” Maggie said. “I
don’t like the fruity ones. And you might want to pick up a box at Costco. I’m
pretty sure you’re going to need to buy them in bulk.”

“We’ll see,” Russell said, wiping
the sweat off his face and smoothing his eyebrows.

~~~

On their third Sunday ride, Maggie
and Russell stopped at their now standard rest spot to enjoy the view. He
pulled off his helmet and rifled his fingers through his hair. He swallowed a
bite of the PowerBar (which he had supplied) and said, “So, I’m seeing this
gal.”

“Oh, since when?”

“I dunno. Almost three weeks, I
guess. Her name’s Natalia.”

Hmmm, shortly
after that kiss. Guess he didn’t lose any sleep over it like I did
.
“That’s good.” She fastened and unfastened the Velcro strap on her cycling
glove. “But, are you trying to tell me I’m about to lose my riding partner?”

“No, she’s not into biking,
although she’s not crazy about my biking buddy being a gal.”

“We’re just friends.”

“I know that, but she doesn’t know
that. You should meet her, and then she’ll see that we’re just buds. You need
to find a man so we can go on a double-date.”

“I don’t know any men. I mean, not
that I’d want to date.” Again she wondered if she’d done the right thing in
stopping him when he kissed her. Maybe she should have had sex with him. Gotten
it over with. After all, she was no romantic.

But even to a practical person like
herself, she admitted that “getting it over with” didn’t sound very nice. It
was more fun to think about meeting someone, not to fall in love with, but just
to be excited about, to look forward to seeing. She’d begun to warm up to the
idea of getting out there again. She was even assessing most of the single men
she encountered as potential date, or even crush, material.
Might be fun to have a good, healthy, borderline-obsessive crush
on someone
. But no one had piqued her interest; not at work, or at the
museum, or at yoga (especially not at yoga where there were usually only two
men—both in their seventies).

“I thought you might say that.
Because, let’s face it, once you’ve kissed me, any other man is going to look
like chopped liver.”

She punched his arm. “You think
you’re such a stud? I’ll race you home.” She clicked into her pedals and started
off down the hill before he could even put his water bottle away.

Being heavier, he caught her on the
downhill and they took turns riding in front in the wind. But when they rode up
the hill on her street, she left him in her wake.

“I kicked your butt again today,”
she said, when he pulled up next to her.

“No fair. I feel like I’m catching
a cold.”

“Excuses. Come on in and I’ll make
you a Fuzzy Navel smoothie. It’ll fix you up.”

Kona greeted them and tried to lick
the sweat off Maggie’s legs while she gathered the orange juice, a bag of
frozen peach slices and a frozen banana for their drinks.

Russell picked up where he’d left
off. “Anyway, like I was saying before, I knew you wouldn’t be able to find a
man that could compare with me, so I’ve found one for you.”

“Excuse me?” She paused in the act
of pouring orange juice into the blender.

“There’s this guy at work, Mark. I
don’t know him real well, but he’s not bad looking. I know he got divorced last
year and he’s an accountant, so there you go. What else do you need?”

She got the brewer’s yeast out of
the cupboard. “What are you saying?” she asked as she shook a tablespoon or so
worth of the musty golden flakes into the mix.

“What is that?” Russell turned up
his nose. “Healthy junk?”

“It’s packed with vitamins. You
won’t even taste it, you big baby.” She snapped the lid down on the carafe.
“So, did you talk to this guy about me or what?”

“No. I just invited him to a Labor
Day barbecue this coming Saturday.”

“I hope you didn’t say anything
about me,” she shouted over the whirr of the blender. A feeling of dread
coursed through her as she watched the ingredients swirl together. She’d
thought she was ready to date again, but now faced with an actual possibility,
she felt as if he’d put her stomach in the blender and set it on pulse. She
filled two glasses with the pale orange smoothie and handed him one, while Kona
watched and hoped for spillage. “Seriously, did you?”

“No, I was cool. Just told him I
was having a few people over.” He took a drink and his eyes widened in
surprise. “Oh, damn. That’s good. I thought you were ruining it with that brown
stuff, but I think I’m hooked. I’m going to need one of these after every
ride.” She watched with pleasure as he gulped it down. Her pleasure turned to
panic when he added, “Anyway, I just told him there’d be this one particular
gal there.”

“Oh, God.” She set her glass down
on the counter with a thud.

“What? It’ll be super casual. You
come over, you eat dinner—” Kona lunged at Russell, barking at him. The dog
caught Russell off guard, knocking him against the counter.

“Kona, off!” Maggie grabbed a tin
canister painted with fire hydrants and pulled out a biscuit. When Kona heard
the schwoop of the lid, he left Russell alone and ran to Maggie. She tossed the
biscuit in the air and Kona snapped at it like an alligator.

“Did you just reward your dog for
going ballistic on me?”

“
No
. I
mean, well, I guess it kind of looked that way. But, I told you about his
trigger words. You can’t just say the D-word. Anyway, I’m sorry. Now, go on
with your terrible plan.”

“As I was saying, before I was so
rudely accosted, you come over for d-i-n-n-e-r; you talk to him. If you don’t
like him, no harm done.”

“Why did you do this without
telling me first?”

“I knew you’d say no.”

“Hey, you didn’t even invite me to
any barbecue yet. How do you know I’m even free?”

“Maggie, I don’t want to be mean,
but you’re always free on the weekends.”

She dropped her arms to her sides;
she had no retort. She looked down and noticed Kona begging for their empty
glasses; it reminded her:
Think like Kona. Go with it.
Maybe it will be fun
. “Can I bring Helen? That way it won’t be like
you’re shoving the two single folks together.”

“Yeah, I was assuming Helen would
come. Isn’t she your wing-woman?”

~~~

That evening Maggie invited Helen
to go to dinner. They decided on Helen’s favorite Mexican restaurant,
Alfonso’s, in La Jolla. It was an upscale version of Bandito’s with more
ambiance and less grease. Maggie sipped a strawberry margarita, while waiting
for Helen.

“Did I see you flirting with that
bartender?” Helen asked without saying hello. She hopped up on a barstool as
she indicated the well-muscled man in a black T-shirt behind the bar.

“No, I wasn’t flirting.” As she
said it she wiggled her fingers to get the bartender’s attention and called
out, head tilted to one side, “Could you bring one of these for my friend?”

He winked at her and walked off to
the blender. “He can tend to me anytime,” Helen said in her best Mae West. Then
added, “Yes, you were flirting. And look at this sexy ensemble.” She looked
Maggie up and down.

“Oh, well, I went shopping. My old
jeans were getting a bit baggy.” She wore a halter-style handkerchief top, with
black-on-black flowers embroidered on it, and slim low-rise jeans with strappy
black sandals.

“
Buenas noches
,”
Helen said into Maggie’s cleavage. “Nice to finally meet you, girls.” Helen had
told Maggie more than once that she should show off her figure.

The bartender brought the margarita
in time to see Helen talking to Maggie’s breasts. He grinned as he set the
drink down and asked if they needed anything else. “Anything at all?”

“Um, not right now,” Maggie said as
a blush cascaded down her cheeks and chest, which he openly stared at. Her hand
went to her jade pendant, her usual nervous habit, but also to hide her
cleavage. “Thanks,” she dismissed him, then whispered to Helen, “You are so
embarrassing.”

“Sorry. I’ll be good. But, really,
you seem different. Ready to get back up on that horse.”

“Russell said the same thing.”

“You talked to Russell about
riding?” “Horses” and “riding” had become code for sex.

“Noooo. Not about
riding
; just dating in general.” She told Helen about
Natalia and Russell’s plan to set her up with Mark. “So, will you come along?
Be my wing-woman?”

“Sure. I’m back from Paris on
Friday, so I can make it. Might be a little jet-lagged, but, what the heck. And
if you don’t like this Mark guy, maybe I will.”

Maggie almost said, “Hey, back off.
He’s mine.” Then realized she hadn’t even met Mark yet. Kona wouldn’t second-guess
a friend’s motives. In fact, Kona would just order nachos.

“Let’s order nachos.” Maggie held
up her margarita in a toast, “Here’s to having fun. Now get that cute bartender
back over here.”

Maggie and Helen arrived first at
Russell’s barbecue, which he was holding at Natalia’s. Compared to his condo,
her place had ample parking and a big backyard. He’d asked Maggie to come early
to get to know Natalia.

She was, as Maggie had expected,
gorgeous. Maggie thought she looked like everything round from Sophia
Loren—dark eyes, full breasts and buttocks—tacked onto Olive Oyl’s frame.