Never Fall for Your Back-Up Guy by Kate O’Keeffe

Chapter 11

Dear Dad

So, I’m definitely not going to become Mrs. Zara Honeydew any time soon. Or ever.

On the plus side, my darling puppy is such a blessing! Stevie is bouncy and fun and totally full of the joy of living. She makes me smile every time I look at her. Okay, not every time exactly. Sometimes she chews my shoes. Sometimes she poops on the hand knotted woollen rug I ‘acquired’ (okay stole) from Martinston’s study to remind me of you. But the rest of the time? She is absolutely divine.

I so wish you could meet her.

Miss you. Love you.

Your Za-Za xoxo

I arriveat the shop with Stevie the following morning, bracing myself for the inevitable onslaught of questions from Scarlett. George must have said something to her boyfriend, Harry, last night because she peppered me with messages about my date after I got home.

The shop is empty when I arrive. I glance at the time on my phone: 9:45am. For once, I’ve beaten Scarlett in. I unlock the door and put Stevie down on the floor. She immediately scampers around, sniffing everything as though this is the last moment of her sense of smell before it’s gone forever and she needs to smell everything.

I eye the dog pen I bought from Penelope’s Pooches after my visit to Asher’s place. “You’ll need to go in your pen when Scarlett gets here, little girl. So go crazy.”

She doesn’t need telling. She is a puppy, after all.

I wander to the back of the shop, flick on the lights, and power up the computer. I scan the day’s appointments, and my heart sinks at how few there are. I chew on my lip, deep in thought. How can the little guy beat the big guy? I mean, you hear these stories about how it can happen, how the little guy—or girls in our case—fight back. But how are we going to do it? Karina has scale. They’ve got a bunch of designers, relationships with all the suppliers, and a killer store that screams you’re in safe hands with us! We’ve got a tiny, but charming shop off the beaten track with only two designers—and a dog who is admittedly extraordinarily cute, but who pees on people and destroys the stock.

It’s not exactly a fair fight.

I’m just about to Google how David managed to beat Goliath when the bell above the door chimes. I look up, expecting to see Scarlett, and am surprised to see a couple of girls about my age. They’re both wearing long skirts, ankle boots, and cute tops, with long mousy brown hair hanging down their backs. I blink a couple of times, thinking I’m seeing double for a moment before I realise they’re identical twins.

“Hi, girls,” I say with a warm smile as I slot my phone into the back pocket of my wide-legged pants. “Welcome to ScarZar. Can I help you with something?”

As the words leave my mouth, Stevie comes bounding over to them and hurls herself at one of the girl’s legs, yapping excitedly.

“Oh, what a cute puppy!” she says as she leans down and pats her. Stevie bounces around and the girl only manages to get a hand on her for a split second.

“She is cute, but she also needs to go in her pen,” I say.

“Oh, leave her,” Twin #1 says. “She’s too cute. Look at her, Prue. We should get one.”

“Oh, yes. We so should,” Twin #2 replies.

The two girls coo over Stevie as she vaults between them doing what she does best: being an adorable and excitable puppy. One of them picks her up and Stevie starts climbing up her top to get to her ear where she promptly begins to lick and nibble on her lobe. As she giggles, I ask the other twin what I can help them with.

“We’re trying to decide what to get our mum for her birthday. She’s turning fifty and utterly depressed about it,” one of them says.

“So, we thought we’d buy her something gorgeous to make her feel better about getting so old,” the other one finishes.

“Can you imagine being fifty?” Twin #1 asks before she bursts into a fresh wave of giggles with Stevie’s licks. “Puppy, stop!”

“Being fifty would be so awful,” Twin #2 says with a shake of her head.

I smile at them. “It’ll happen to us one day too, you know. What sort of thing are you looking for?”

“We were thinking a few things to brighten up the living room.”

“Scatter cushions? Lamps? Ornaments?”

“All of those,” Twin #2 says.

“Tell me what the living room looks like now and what your mum’s taste is.”

“Oh, her taste is awful,” Twin #2 says.

Twin #1 nods her agreement. “Truly awful. She needs a total style makeover.”

“We like the sofa in the window,” Twin #1 says, referring to the gorgeous green velvet sofa.

“It’s divine, isn’t it? Why don’t I get some of the cushions and put a few things together while you have a wander around? There are some beautiful things on the shelves in the back.” I suggest and the girls agree.

As I pull a few items together from around the shop, the two girls give a cursory look at the shelves before they sit down on the floor and spend the rest of the time playing with Stevie. I smile to myself. This is exactly what I wanted to happen with having a shop dog. Stevie adds fun and personality, and she’ll help differentiate us from the big Karina’s of the world.

I stand back from my display and call the girls over. “What do you think?” I ask as Twin #2 hands me Stevie.

“I like it, but I don’t love it. You know?” Twin #1 says. “Remember we saw that design on line?” She says to her sister. “Pull that up.”

Twin #2 takes her phone from her bag and stares at her screen. After a beat, she turns the phone around and I inspect the image.

“That’s much more of a Boho look,” I say as I examine the image. I notice it’s a design by Karina. “I can totally do that for you. We’ve got some things out back. Give me two minutes.”

“Leave the puppy, please. It’s my turn for a cuddle,” Twin #2 says as she reaches out toward me.

“Sure.” I rush out back and rummage through a pile of cushions, looking for the ones I know will fit the scheme.

When I return, the two girls are talking quietly between themselves. “Here we are. What do you think of these paired with the throw and that large vase?” I remove the original cushions and replace them with the new ones. I stand back and look at the display. “Gorgeous, don’t you think?”

“Oh, totally,” Twin #2 says as her eyes dart to Twin #1.

“Thanks for all your help, but we’ve, ah, got to go,” Twin #1 says.

Twin #2 crinkles her nose. “Yeah, sorry. Thanks, though. You’ve been super helpful.”

“Super helpful,” #1 echoes as the two of them edge towards the door.

“Are you sure? I’ve got a bunch more ideas.”

“We’re good. Thanks though. Your puppy is gorgeous.”

“So gorgeous.”

One of them pulls the door open, and then they both turn and scramble out of the shop as though it’s on fire, and I’m left holding the proverbial baby—okay, cushions—wondering what the heck just happened.

I spy Stevie, curled up in a ball on a leather armchair, and on instinct, I follow them and hang back enough so that they can’t see me—but I can see them. They walk out of the mews, turn right, and walk until they reach a shop about three doors down, turn, and walk inside.

Karina.

I chew on my lip. That image was from Karina. While I was out the back searching for cushions, they probably realised that and decided to simply head there.

With a deflated feeling in my chest, I trudge back to the shop. I push through the door and glance at the display I’d put together for them. Another customer lost to the big, flashy shop down the road. Sure, all the twins were after was a few accessories to brighten a room, but it hurts all the same.

The bell tinkling pulls me out of my reverie. I look up to see Scarlett.

“We just lost another customer to Karina,” I say without preamble. “They literally got up and left in the middle of a design conversation. Can you believe it?”

She cocks an eyebrow. “A little like you got up and left in the middle of a date with George Honeydew?”

“Don’t start. He brought his parents to our first date. Enough said.”

“Only because they’re a really close-knit family.”

I shoot her a you cannot be serious look. “Riiiight. There’s close and then there’s weird.”

“I told you George is a catch, Zee,” she replies, ignoring my response. “You should call him and apologise.”

“Apologise?” I say with a surprised chortle. “No, thanks. George and his eavesdropping parents might just be the universe’s way of telling me to forget about finding Mr. Right and instead be happy being a spinster with Stevie.”

“You don’t mean that.”

I push out a breath of air. Another failed romance. Only it wasn’t even a romance. Just a first date gone wrong. “I know I don’t, even if it is tempting.”

“You’ll never find the perfect guy, you know. He doesn’t exist. So what if George invited his parents on your date. Do you think he would have done that if he wasn’t serious about you?”

“Scarlett, he kissed my hand and told me he wanted to snog me on his sofa, all the while knowing his parents were listening to every word he said.” I shudder at the memory. “I’m not going back there.”

“Your loss, babe,” Scarlett says as she waltzes past me.

Maybe it is, but also maybe it’s not. Scratch that. It’s definitely not.

The bell chimes and I turn to see who it is. It’s the Kensington Uniform mother and goth daughter combo from a week or two ago. “Hello. Victoria and Chloe. How lovely to see you both again.”

“We were in the neighbourhood, and we thought we’d pop in to see if the sofa we ordered had come in yet,” Victoria says.

“It’s due in about a week,” Scarlett answers.

“Good. Now, in the meantime, I’d like to have a chat about window treatments.”

“Of course. I’ve got some ideas about those. Do come and have a look.”

As Scarlett and Victoria gather around the laptop on the counter, I smile at Chloe. “How’s the new flat?”

“S’all right,” she replies in her characteristically articulate way.

“No swords on the walls, though, right?” I ask with a wry smile.

“Nope.” She pulls her lips into a line and begins looking around the shop.

Giving up on trying to make conversation, I refocus my attention on rearranging some of the items on the shelves.

After a couple of minutes of listening to Victoria and Scarlett discussing the scheme, Chloe declares, “Look at this cushion. It’s shaped as a dog. I want one, Mum.”

A dog cushion? I don’t remember having one of those in the shop.

“Where, darling?” Victoria asks as she walks across the shop to where her daughter is standing by a leather armchair. “Oh, it’s so realistic.” She reaches out to pick it up.

It’s then that I realise they’re not talking about a cushion. They’re talking about Stevie. She’s curled up in a ball on the armchair, sleeping soundly. “Oh, that’s not a cushion,” I begin, but it’s too late. Victoria has pinched what she thinks is a cushion to pick it up, and immediately Stevie’s eyes ping open. Her surprised gaze darts from Victoria to Chloe. Dressed all in black with her pale white face and black-rimmed eyes, Stevie gets the fright of her life and leaps to her feet, yapping and yapping and yapping as she backs away from the two, her teeth bared.

Chloe recoils, stepping back and landing on her mother, who immediately calls out in pain and hops on one foot, losing her balance and falling backwards into a shelving unit. Down come the scented candles, down come the Buddha heads and book ends and vases and all kinds of ornaments. Down they fall until they land on the floor, and I watch in horror as Victoria clutches wildly for the shelves and them promptly crashes to the ground herself.

“Mum!” Chloe yells as Scarlett races over and crouches down beside her.

“Victoria! OMG, are you okay?” Scarlett asks.

“I’m sorry,” I shout over the noise. “It’s my dog, Stevie. She’s not a cushion. I should have said something.” I reach out and pick Stevie up. She yaps and yaps, and even me holding her tight and cooing soothing things in her ear isn’t enough to calm her down.

“I can see that. Make it stop, will you?” Victoria demands as she peers up at me from the floor. “And you. Help me up.” She reaches out for Scarlett, who hoists her back onto her feet.

“I’ll take her out the back,” I say, and Scarlett shoots me a look as I turn and dash to the back of the shop and into the storeroom, where I shut the door firmly behind me.

By now, Stevie has calmed down, so I pop her on the floor and watch in horror as she decides now would be a good time to relieve herself. All over a stack of placemats.

“Nice, Stevie. You’ve totally outdone yourself,” I mutter as I grab some paper towels from the adjacent toilet and begin to soak her mess up.

Scarlett pulls the door open, her face like thunder. “She has got to go!” she declares.

“I’ll just keep her in the pen. I shouldn’t have let her sleep on the chair. It was dumb. I’m sorry, Scarlett.”

She glares at me, her hands on her hips. “If she’s going to stay in the shop, you need to get her trained.”

“I can manage her,” I insist at the precise moment Stevie clamps her sharp little teeth into the edge of my skirt and begins to yank on it as she growls menacingly. Well, as menacing as a small dog can be. “Stevie, no,” I grind out through clenched teeth. She doesn’t listen, so I pick her up and lift both her and my skirt. “Let go,” I tell her as I tug on my skirt. I get it free after a minor tussle, only to look back at an empty doorway. “Scarlett?” I call out.

“Puppy school!” she yells back from the shop, adding a threatening, “Or else.”

I look down at Stevie. She gazes up at me, her liquid brown eyes as innocent as the day she was born. “Do you want to go to puppy school?” I ask her.

Her response is to wag her tail and nuzzle me before she scrambles up my chest and bites down on my earlobe.

* * *

That eveningon my way home, Asher calls and I share the story of how Stevie brought down a Kensington Uniform mum.

“Zara, that’s unbelievable!”

“It wasn’t her finest hour, but to be fair to Stevie, the daughter’s a goth. She looks quite scary.”

“Let me get this straight. You got the dog to add to your business and bring new customers in, right?”

“I know what you’re going to say. So far, she’s destroyed stock and sent clients running.”

“You said it, Zee. You know you need to take her to puppy training school, right?”

“I suppose so.”

“No ‘I suppose so.’ More ‘I will, Asher. Whatever you say, Asher.’ That’s what I’m looking for here.”

“But I know how to train a dog.”

“Do you really?” he asks, and I can imagine the look on his face right now. He’d have his eyebrows raised, a subtle smile on his lips, looking at me intently. “Come on, Zee. I’ll go with you to the classes. Will that help?”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Nothing would make me happier than to be in a room filled with untrained, out of control puppies,” he deadpans.

I giggle. “You’d love it.”

“It’s set then. You book it, I’ll be there, and we’ll train that dog of yours to be Kensington’s best behaved canine.”

I reach my block of flats, balance my phone between my ear and shoulder, and slot my key into the lock. “How about we aim a little lower, like say, she won’t pee on the merchandise or frighten the clients?”

He lets out a laugh. “Good goal. So, how was your date with George the idiot?”

“He’s not an idiot. He’s actually a really nice guy.”

“Who also happens to be a complete idiot.”

I open my mouth to reply and then close it again, doing my best fish impression.

I hate it when he’s right.

“You see? You don’t want to say it, but you agree with me.”

I pinch my lips and harrumph, which only serves to make him ask, “What happened?”

I push out a breath as I climb the stairs to my flat. I’d may as well come clean with him since my other friends already know, thanks to our online group chat as I cowered in the Greek restaurant’s toilets. “He invited his parents to our date,” I say and I scrunch my eyes shut as I wait for Asher’s inevitable reaction.

“Wait, what?”

“They sat at the table next to us all evening and I had no idea they were listening to every word we said until he asked me if I wanted to meet them and turned to them to introduce me.”

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“You were right. He was an idiot.” I look down at Stevie and cringe as I think of Victoria crashing to the ground. “A bit like me, really.”

“You mean the shop incident.”

“Yup.”

“You just had a momentary lapse of dog responsibility. George is a terminal idiot. You know what you need?”

“A nun’s habit and veil?” I ask as I unlock the door to my flat and push it open. I’m immediately met with the aroma of chocolate cake. “Uh-oh.”

“What?” he asks.

“Lottie’s baked a chocolate cake.”

“And that’s bad how, exactly?”

“It means she’s been to see her mother and needs carbs.” I slip off my heels, let Stevie go, and pad down the hallway where I find Lottie sitting at the kitchen bench, shovelling chocolate cake into her mouth like she hasn’t eaten in a month.

She looks up and gives me a half smile, her teeth covered in chocolate icing.

“I don’t get it,” Asher says in that bloke-y way of his. Because of course he doesn’t get it. He’s not a girl.

With my eyes on Lottie, I say, “I’d better go, Ash. I’ll explain the whole mother-daughter dynamic another time.”

“That sounds like a laugh a minute.”

“Oh, it will be.”

“Promise me you’ll book the puppy school.”

“I will.”

“Say it. Say, ‘I will book the puppy school.’”

“I will book the puppy school. Happy?”

“Delirious. Give Lottie a brotherly pat on the back for me. Catch ya later.”

I hang up and plonk myself down beside Lottie. “You saw your mum, huh?”

“Yup.”

“What did she say this time?”

“She only told me that I’m wasting my life and that I should be more like my sister and why was I still living with you and not married with three kids by now and didn’t I know that she gave up so much for me so I could have this life I’m now wasting.”

“So, the usual.”

“Yup.” She scoops some more cake on her fork and piles it high with chocolate icing.

“I’m sorry, Lottie. Will it help if I tell you Stevie wrecked a bunch of stock and scared away a client and Scarlett is annoyed with me and I told Asher I’d take Stevie to puppy school?”

Without a word, Lottie offers me a fork, and I plunge it into the cake and take a large bite, savouring its chocolatey yumminess. “Mmm, dabth gooo,” I say with a full mouth.

“Whoever said you couldn’t solve your problems with chocolate cake has got to have been a guy.”

I clink my fork against hers. “Preach it.

“Stevie scared off a client?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“And you’re going to puppy school with Asher?”

“Yup.”

She pushes the cake towards me. “Eat up.”

And we do eat up. The whole dang cake.

Dear Dad

You know how I said Stevie is a total blessing? Well, it turns out she’s equal parts blessing and liability. Don’t get me wrong, she’s totally adorable and I know how much you’d love her, but I’ve come to the conclusion that we need some help.

And Asher and Scarlett telling me to take her to puppy school had nothing to do with it.

Miss you. Love you.

Your Za-Za xoxo