Blame It On The Dog. Amy Frazier

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СКАЧАТЬ what it was like to guard from intruders the little bit you thought you owned.

      He pulled a business card out of his pocket and handed it deliberately to Drew. “It’s your dog, your decision,” he said before moving toward the door. He could see Axel in the kitchen, rummaging through an overturned trash bin. “Call me if you change your mind. The fee that went on your charge card was for my standard three sessions. After today’s consultation, if you decide to go elsewhere, I’ll refund the price of two.”

      As he descended the stairs from the apartment, he thought of the woman above. In the five years since his wife Anneka’s death, he’d worked with many women in an effort to rehabilitate their usually spoiled dogs. In the past year he’d begun to date. In all that time he hadn’t met one woman who aroused a personal curiosity, no one for whom he regretted saying a final farewell. Until today.

      Warmed by, but distrusting, this instant attraction to Selena Milano, he pushed through the building door to cool, moist air, into the neighborhood changing from bustling daytime business to early evening social. Normally a solitary man, he found the sounds of music, the smell of food, the shouts from neighbor to neighbor jarring. If Selena interested him, why not ask her out? He knew why. Her son. Although Jack might be drawn to the woman, he’d be a fool to pursue even the most casual relationship in the face of the boy’s obvious antagonism.

      CHAPTER TWO

      WITH THE MOUTHWATERING aroma of tamales floating up from the taquerías across the street, Selena sat on a stool on the roof of her building, checking the fabric samples laid out in the open. They were for an upcoming installation on the campus of San Francisco State University. The theme was tolerance, and Selena envisioned scrims stretched taut on enormous frames planted in the earth. On one side would be a picture and personal statement by an ordinary person, describing a small, everyday act of tolerance. On the other a visual pulled from the headlines showing the stark reality of intolerance. She wanted the contrasting images imposed on opposing sides of fabric to highlight what little lay between the two directions. She didn’t have the whole ideological thing worked out yet. Or even the execution. Right now she and Maxine, her assistant, were testing fabrics to find the one most likely to stand up to both the printing process and four weeks of San Francisco’s ever-changing weather.

      Drew had taken Axel for an after-school walk—well, run—in the park. For the past few days, he’d been committed to burning off some of his pal’s energy. Neither Selena nor Drew wanted to have to bring back Jack Quinn and his boot-camp ideas. Trouble was the outings seemed to be stoking Axel’s energy levels, not diminishing them.

      With a groan, Maxine stood up. “I have to move around. You want some coffee?”

      “Please. I made a fresh pot before we came up.” Blowing on her hands, Selena watched Maxine head for the door to the stairway to the apartment below. Although it was probably fifty degrees, up here you caught the brisk winds off the Pacific. Coffee sounded good.

      Maxine had been Selena’s art teacher in high school. And when Selena had come back to San Francisco, pregnant, her old home sold, her parents off saving the world, Maxine had helped her find her first job at a community center, teaching adult education art classes. They’d stayed in touch, and when Maxine retired, she’d been eager to keep her artistic juices flowing as Selena’s Jill-of-all-trades assistant. She was also the only grandparent figure Drew knew up close and personal.

      “I put a little something in it,” Maxine said, returning several minutes later with two mugs.

      “Thanks.” Selena would have to be careful. Maxine’s “little somethings” could knock your socks off. And Selena was really only a two-glasses-of-wine imbiber.

      Maxine leaned against the low brick wall that edged the roof. “So are you going to tell me about the dog shrink?”

      Selena had been avoiding that subject. “I don’t think he liked it when Drew called him that.”

      “The sensitive type. Well, pardon me.”

      “Sensitive is the last word I’d use to describe this guy. If I had to pick only one word, it would be controlling.”

      “Oh? Whips and masks?”

      “He was more subtle. But controlling all the same. Not to mention frosty, smug and a tad dogmatic. Pun intended. Talked a lot about discipline and submission.”

      Maxine chuckled. “I’m assuming he was talking about Axel. And a little discipline wouldn’t hurt that four-legged brat.”

      “You know how I feel about relationships—even cross-species relationships. They should be built on equality and mutual respect.”

      “Then I bet you and this guy got on like a house afire.”

      Selena grimaced at the unpleasant thought of Mr. I-Will-Teach-You-To-Be-Pack-Leader Quinn.

      “Hey, Selena, give him a break. He’s a dog trainer, for pity’s sake. Someone’s got to be in charge of the training. It might as well be the human.”

      “He didn’t like being called a dog trainer, either.”

      “So what does he think he is?”

      “I don’t know. Some kind of Zen master, for all I know. It doesn’t matter anyway. We gave him the boot.”

      “And your backup plan would be?”

      “I don’t have—”

      Just then a crash and an ear-splitting shriek came from the sidewalk below, followed closely by a string of baritone expletives. Selena jumped up to peer over the wall and saw a river of fruit rolling in a cascade of oranges, yellows, greens and reds over the pavement and into the street.

      Axel. She’d bet the farm.

      She tore downstairs with Maxine on her heels. Outside, one of the stands that bracketed the produce market door lay overturned on the sidewalk. As Drew and several customers scrambled to right the stand and pick up the fruit, Sam raced around, waving his arms and chasing Axel, who held a grapefruit in his mouth and didn’t seem to understand why Sam didn’t want to play fetch.

      On one of his run-bys, Selena grabbed Axel’s collar, then Drew’s sleeve. “Take him upstairs. Now. I’ll settle with Sam.” For once, Drew disappeared with his dog, without argument.

      “Sam! Calm down!” Selena stepped in front of the red-faced man who seemed intent on following Axel right up into the apartment. “I’ll clean this up. You tend to your customers.”

      “And what will they buy?” Sam growled. “My fruit is ruined!”

      “Not all of it, I’m sure,” Maxine said, stepping up to take Sam’s arm, urging him into his shop. “Selena and I’ll check every piece. If it’s good we’ll restack it.”

      “And if it’s damaged, I’ll pay for it,” Selena added, her heart sinking. Bruised fruit could not be counted as a project expense. Now breakfast and lunch for the next week looked like smoothies, smoothies and more smoothies. “I’m sorry, Sam. I promise it won’t happen again.”

      Maxine almost had the greengrocer inside his shop when he whirled to face Selena. “That dog of yours is a menace. A menace! Do you see Charlie?” Sam waved his arm in the direction of the homeless man across the street, СКАЧАТЬ