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

Chapter 7

Dear Dad

Today, I think I’m getting my new puppy. I say “think” because I need to first pass the pet shop’s test. Apparently, it’s not enough to join the posse, not walk on hot coals, and choose to be a new coloured crayon.

I’ll explain some other time.

Wish me luck!

Miss you. Love you.

Your Za-Za xoxo

I am so excited!Today is the day. Forget turning thirty and birthday parties and hot guys called George—okay, don’t forget him, just put him in a box to be opened at a later date.

Today is the day that I’m getting my puppy!

Well, I hope to get her, that is. It all comes down to whether I pass Penelope’s Pooches’ next test.

I’ve got Lottie lined up and ready to go. She’s under strict instructions not to say anything whatsoever. I don’t want her to go telling them she wouldn’t join a posse to find the bad guys, or not dive to the bottom of the ocean to find the treasure. She might not be the one getting the dog, but as my flatmate, she’s going to be a part of her life. She needs to pass this.

And so do I.

I’m still plumping cushions and dumping dirty dishes I haven’t had the chance to clean in an empty bottom drawer when the doorbell chimes. Although I’m expecting it, I almost jump out of my skin.

“It’s them. Lottie, it’s them!” I call out down the hall.

“Who?” she asks as she wanders into the living room, rubbing her eyes, still wearing her PJs. “And do you think you could speak at a little less than full-on shout volume? Some of us are a little worse for wear after a certain someone’s birthday bash last night.”

I run my eyes over her appearance. Her pyjamas are rumpled, her hair is flat on the side she’s been lying on, and last night’s eye makeup is smudged beneath her eyes. “Lottie! You need to get dressed now. Penelope’s here.”

“Whose Penelope?” she asks with a yawn.

“The dog people,” I explain as I dash down the hall. I press the button to let them into the building, saying, “Come on up to level 2!” and pull the door ajar. I grab a brush from the bathroom. “Here,” I say as I thrust it at her. “Sort that bird’s nest out, get dressed, and remember not to say a word.”

“Do you really think the dog is going to care if my hair isn’t brushed?”

“No, but the Penelopes will.”

“They sound like a cult to me.”

“Or like they’re in an 80s movie, like Heathers,” a deep voice says from the doorway.

I turn and gawk. Asher’s standing in the doorway wearing a pair of jeans and a grey jacket over a white tee, holding a cardboard tray of coffees in his hands. “What are you doing here?”

“You let me in. And nice greeting, by the way. You sure know how to make your future husband feel loved, especially one who comes bearing coffee.”

Lottie brushes past me. “Mmm, coffee. You’re an angel sent from the heavens. Thanks, Ash,” she says as she takes one.

I raise an eyebrow at her.

“All right. I’m going,” she says as she remains standing in the same spot.

“Lottie, your bedroom is that way, and Asher, you’re meant to be the people from Penelope’s Pooches, here to assess my home,” I say as he comes in and closes the door behind himself.

“Sorry to disappoint you. That’s happening now?”

“Yes! And I need you to not be here.”

He flicks his eyes to Lottie. “Is your roommate a little stressed, by any chance?”

She lets out a giggle. “Zara, stressed about getting this dog? Never!”

The buzzer sounds once more.

A flash of adrenaline bursts through me. “That’s got to be them,” I say. I lift the handset and say, “Hello?”

“This is Penelope from Penelope’s Pooches. We’ve come to do an assessment,” a tinny voice says through the speaker.

“Come on up to the second floor. Flat four.” I press the entry button before I turn to face Asher, who should not be here, and Lottie, whose hair is still a fright. “Right, you two. Lottie, go sort your hair out and throw some clothes on, and Asher, you’re here now so you’ll have to stay, but you can’t say a word.”

“Alright, I’m going,” Lottie says as she wanders back down the hallway to her room as though she’s got all the time in the world.

“Bathroom, Lottie! You need to wet your hair first.”

“Sure.”

I watch as she totally ignores me and wanders through the door to her bedroom instead.

“She’s not wetting her hair,” I say, incredulous.

Asher passes me a coffee. “Relax, wifey. It’s fine. Although on second thought, maybe you shouldn’t be having any caffeine right now.”

I take a sip. “Has anyone in the history of time relaxed when they’ve been told to relax?”

“Well, if they have, I don’t think you’ll be joining their club anytime soon,” he replies with a grin. “Seriously, though. It’ll be fine. They’re just gonna ask a few questions like ‘did you realize dogs poop’ and ‘don’t forget to pet them every now and then’ and then be done with it. You’ll have your dog and considerably less money, and we can all get on with our lives.”

I let out a puff of air, my rock-hard shoulders dropping. “You’re right. It’ll all be fine.”

“It will. I’ll go sit in the living room.” He strides down the hallway just as there’s a knock-knock at the door.

I take a breath and then pull it open with a bright, extremely relaxed, and in-no-way-unnatural smile on my face. “Hello!” I say to not one, not two, but three people, all wearing the same light blue boilersuit and pigtails. “You must be… Penelopes.”

“We are,” they say in unison with identical smiles.

Wow. So unsettling.

“Do you have individual names, or should I just call you all ‘Penelope?’”

“Penelope is fine,” the one with blonde frizzy hair and freckles says. “Our individual identities are secondary to our purpose.”

“Of course.” I stand back to let them in. I avoid looking in Asher’s direction, because I just know what he’s thinking, and it will not be helpful right now. “Come on in. Welcome to my dog-friendly home.”

The three of them walk into the entry hall and look around. I notice a cobweb up the wall at the ceiling and wish I’d looked up while I was frantically cleaning the flat moments ago.

“Where is a good place for us to sit and chat?” Frizzy Blonde Penelope asks.

“The living room’s great. Follow me.” I walk down the hall and into the living room, where both Asher and Lottie are sitting. Lottie has managed to get dressed in some jeans and a sweatshirt and has even brushed her hair.

Frizzy Blonde Penelope raises her eyebrows. “Hello. Do you live here, as well?”

“I do. Hi, I’m Lottie.” She waves at the Penelopes. “I’m Zara’s flatmate and I’m super excited about Stevie.”

“And you are?” One of the other Penelopes asks Asher. She’s got straight black hair and a blunt fringe.

“Oh, I’m just a freeloader. A guest. Not a roommate.”

“But Asher, you are Zara’s future husband so you’re so much more than just a freeloader,” Lottie insists with a smile that tells me she’s having fun with this.

I shoot her a look, my lips drawn into a thin line. Why did she have to mention the back-up thing? It’s not in the least relevant to me getting this dog.

“You’re getting married?” Black Hair Penelope asks. “Well, that changes things. We’ll need to ask you a few pertinent questions before we can proceed, since your husband will also be in Stevie’s pack.”

“We’re not getting married,” Asher says. “That was just a joke. Pretend I’m not here.” He rises to his feet. “In fact, I’ll leave you to it.”

“Sit,” Frizzy Blonde Penelope says, and to my surprise, Asher sits right back down.

I stifle a giggle. I’ll have to remember that next time I want him to do something.

“You both need to stay. You,” she says, pointing at me, “sit with the other two.”

“But—”

“Sit!”

“Okay.” With my tail between my legs—figuratively because I’m not a dog, even if the Penelopes seem to think I need to be treated as one—I slink over to the sofa and plonk myself down between Asher and Lottie.

“Good doggie,” Asher says under his breath, and I elbow him in the ribs.

“Ditto.”

“Now, the other Penelopes are going to assess the suitability of your property while we have a little chat.” Frizzy Blonde Penelope takes a seat opposite us and pulls a notebook from her bag.

“I’d be happy to show your colleagues around the place,” I offer.

“Not necessary,” she replies without looking at me. “They’re perfectly capable to manage the process on their own.” She nods at the other two Penelopes, and they immediately begin to wander around the flat.

“I have a few questions for you, Asher.”

“Shoot.”

“If you were a packet of biscuits, what would you be and why?”

“Excuse me?” he questions.

“If you were a packet of biscuits, what would you be and why?” she repeats.

“I can’t answer that. I promised not to talk,” he says.

I scrunch my eyes shut in humiliation.

“You can answer the question,” Frizzy Blonde Penelope says.

“Do I have to?”

“You do.”

“You know, the thing is, that’s not a question I’ve ever actually asked myself.”

I widen my eyes at him “Asher, just go with it,” I say with a forced smile.

“Okay. Let me think. If I were a packet of cookies,” he begins, emphasizing the word, “I think I’d be biscotti.”

“Why biscotti?” Frizzy Blonde Penelope asks.

“Because like biscotti, I’m a quarter Italian, and I’m tough to crack but worth every bite.” He grins at her, and I want to sink into a hole in the floor.

Frizzy Blonde Penelope looks up at him through her lashes. “I like that reply,” she says, and promptly begins to blush.

“Thanks. I kinda like it, too.” Asher shoots me a look that says so there.

So mature.

“Lottie, a question for you. If you could be a colour, what would you be.”

“Rain,” she replies promptly.

I blink at her. “She said a colour, Lottie.”

“Rain is a colour. In fact, it’s many colours. It’s white, it’s blue, it’s grey, it’s taupe, it’s deep, dark, foreboding black.”

“Fascinating,” Frizzy Blonde Penelope says as she taps at her tablet.

Is that a good sign? Please let that be a good sign.

“What if you were a fish? What would you be? This question is for both of you.”

“Oh, that’s easy. I’d be a tiger shark,” Asher replies. “Ferocious, uncompromising, totally in charge.”

Frizzy Blonde Penelope taps.

“I’d go a different direction altogether,” Lottie begins. “I’d be a starfish. That way I get to observe the world around me while sitting serenely on a rock.”

More tapping on the tablet.

“Tell me more about the tiger shark,” Frizzy Blonde Penelope says to Asher, her blush intensifying. “I find that so interesting that you would say that.”

As Asher goes on about alpha sharks and plankton, I roll my eyes so hard they’re in danger of spinning out of my head. Women love Asher. Sure, he’s easy on the eyes, but he’s also funny and charming and has a knack for making people feel at ease. And right now, I’m thankful for him because Frizzy Blonde Penelope seems happy.

The other two Penelopes return to the room and my nerves kick up. “Is everything okay with the flat?”

“There is one concern,” the Dark Haired Penelope says. “Come with me.”

I spring to my feet and follow her from the room and down the hall to the kitchen. “What is it? What’s the problem?”

Asher and Lottie and the other two Penelopes arrive in the room soon after.

“At Penelope’s Pooches we specialise in small dogs, as you know. My concern is that the kitchen window is too low for a dog to see out.”

“Really?” I ask as my mind races. Do I need to move the window? Is that possible? Would our landlord even allow it?

“See the distance from here to here,” Dark Hair Penelope says as she gestures at the floor to the window. “It’s clearly too high off the ground.”

“I can see that,” Frizzy Blonde Penelope says. “Our dogs need to be able to see blue sky.”

“Well, they probably shouldn’t be living in London, then,” Asher mutters under his breath but loud enough for me to hear.

“Not helping,” I trill.

“It rains here a lot. Just sayin’,” he replies.

“So, is there a way around this? I mean, what if I hold her up to see the sky? Or get a seat she can jump up onto.”

“What kind of seat?” Dark Hair Penelope asks with a furrowed brow.

“One low enough for her to jump up on and look out.”

The three Penelopes lean in towards one another and begin to speak in whispers. I hold my breath. I can’t lose Stevie over a stupid window height. I’ve come so far with this, frankly insane, process. If my heart hadn’t been set on Stevie…

“Can we have the room?” Frizzy Blonde Penelope asks.

“Sure.” I bustle Asher and Lottie out of the kitchen and close the door.

“This whole thing is insane. You know that, right?” Asher says.

“I can understand it. They want to make sure their dogs go to good, loving homes,” Lottie says.

“Yeah, but the window’s too low for the dog to see blue sky? What’s that about?”

“Shhh,” I say to them both as I press my ear against the door, listening. All I can hear is muffled talking.

“Let’s go sit and finish our cold coffees,” Asher suggests.

“I’ll be right there,” Lottie says as she pads down the hall and into her bedroom.

Asher and I return to the living room, and I sit and wait for their verdict, my nerves clanging like pots and pans.

“This puppy had better be the freakin’ queen of dogs to go through all of this for,” Asher says as he stretches out on the sofa.

“She’s worth it. And what was with that flirty talk back there? I wondered if Lottie and I should have left the room at one stage.”

“I thought I’d try to help you out.”

“By flirting?”

“By being charming. There’s a difference, you know.”

“I don’t think Frizzy Blonde Penelope knew the difference.”

He laughs. “You call her Frizzy Blonde Penelope?”

“They won’t give me their names. How else do you differentiate between three women all dressed like identical toddlers who insist they’re all called Penelope?”

“Good point.”

Lottie arrives back in the room and flops down on a chair. “This is so weird. They’re in our kitchen discussing us while we sit around and wait for them.”

“It’s just hoop jumping to get my puppy.”

“When are you seeing George?” Asher asks me.

“I don’t know. I only just met him last night. You guys have rules about how quickly you contact a girl. Don’t you?”

‘No,” he replies.

“Oh, you so do,” Lottie agrees. “I even had a guy tell me he decided to break the ‘three-day rule’ once. He said he didn’t care if he seemed too eager and he’d be breaking the guy code, he had to do it.”

“I don’t have a three-day rule,” Asher replies. “So, you’re not expecting to hear from the guy for three days, is that what you’re saying?”

“Exactly.”

“Us girls are onto you,” Lottie warns.

“Well, whether he calls in three days or three years, the guy’s still an idiot.”

Lottie pulls a face at me, and I giggle.

“If you say so, Asher,” Lottie says.

He flicks his eyes between us. “What? I don’t like the guy.”

“You just don’t want your future wife dating someone else. That’s what’s going on here,” Lottie says.

“No, it’s not,” Asher says as I reply, “No way.”

Lottie sizes us both up, her eyes dancing. “Hmmm. Very interesting. Let me know if you pull the wedding up, okay? I’ll need time to get a killer outfit for it.”

“You’re hilarious,” I deadpan. “I wish I’d never told you about us being back-ups for each other.”

“She’d have found out soon enough, wifey. You know, when we’re married,” Asher says with a cheeky grin.

I shake my head at him. “You’re not helping here, Ash.”

The door to the kitchen swings open, making me jump. I look up to see Frizzy Blonde Penelope in the doorway.

“Come back in, Zara,” she instructs, and I dart a look at my friends before I follow her back into the kitchen where I’m met with all three Penelopes.

“Have you decided if I can get Stevie?” I ask eagerly. “I mean, if I can join Stevie’s pack.”

Frizzy Blonde Penelope levels her gaze at me. “We have concerns.”

Uh-oh.

“Does that mean…? Am I not getting…?” I swallow down a rising lump. “You’re not letting me have Stevie.” My shoulders slump.

“We will need to carry out a random check-in after you’ve formed a pack.”

I ping my gaze to hers as hope bubbles up inside me. “Does that mean what I think it means?”

Frizzy Blonde Penelope gives me a curt nod. “It does. Welcome to Stevie’s pack, Zara.”

“Oh, thank you!” I rush across the tiled floor to her.

She immediately raises her hand and shouts, “Down, girl!”

I come to a crashing halt and raise my hands in the air. “Sorry, sorry. I don’t know what came over me,” I say. “I’m just so excited. When can I see her?”

Frizzy Blonde Penelope cracks a smile for the first time since Asher was flirting with her—sorry, charming her. Potato pot-ah-to. “Does right away work for you?”

“Are you kidding me? Of course it does.”

Ten minutes and a large chunk of my savings gone to Penelope’s Pooches later, I’m sitting on the floor of my flat as Asher and Lottie look on, playing with my new, adorable, gorgeous, wonderful puppy, Stevie. She’s bouncing around, gnawing on anything she can, her little white tail wagging a mile a minute.

“Isn’t she adorable?” I gush as I pick her squirming little body up and she frantically tries to lick my face.

“Oh, she so is. Here, give her to me.” Lottie reaches out and takes her in her hands. “Who’s a gorgeous girl, then? You are, yes you are.”

Asher arches his brow. “Baby talk, Lottie? Seriously?”

“You cannot hold this ball of canine deliciousness and not baby-talk.”

“Sounds like a challenge to me.” He stretches out a hand and takes Stevie from Lottie. Holding her up, she wriggles and wags her tail, trying with every ounce of energy to lick him.

I sit back and watch as he tries not to say anything to her. It’s obvious he wants to. She’s simply too adorable.

“Give her a cuddle,” I instruct. “You know you want to.”

He cups her at chest height, and she claws her way up to nibble his ear. He lets out a laugh. “That’s so ticklish.”

Lottie tells him, “Okay, now hold her so you can see her face and tell her she’s a good doggie.”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes, you do!”

He holds her up once more and looks directly at her. “You’re a good dog,” he says in an extra deep and manly baritone before he immediately places her back down on the floor rug. She promptly dives on an old sock and tries to bite it. “See? There’s no need to baby-talk the dog.”

“And you were totally unaffected by her, weren’t you?” I ask.

“Are you telling me I’m some sort of robot? Of course I think she’s cute, but I still don’t see the need to talk to her like she’s a baby.”

“Whatever,” I reply with a laugh. Nothing can dent my mood now that I’ve got my very own puppy. I pat her little body as she gnaws on a chew toy that was part of the puppy paraphernalia pack Penelope sold me. “Good, Stevie. Good girl.”

“Stevie’s a better name for her than ‘Steve,’” Lottie announces as she lifts her up and the puppy begins to nibble on her ear. “No, Stevie, no!”

“Oh, Stevie is way cuter. Like Stevie Nicks. I need photos. Where’s my phone?” I ask.

Asher shrugs. “I dunno.”

“Try the kitchen bench. You were googling how to toilet train a puppy earlier, remember?” Lottie says.

“Toilet training?” Asher says. “That’ll be fun for you.”

I locate my phone on the kitchen bench. When I press the home button, I notice a missed call from a number I don’t recognise along with a message. I dial my voicemail.

“Hi, Zara. We met last night at your party. Sorry I had to leave. I had a thing I had to go to, so I slipped out. I wondered if you’d like to get together Tuesday? Let me know.” There’s a pause before he adds, “Oh, this is George Honeydew, by the way. Okay, bye.” He hangs up and I stand there staring at the wall, my phone still against my ear.

He called me. George called me, and he didn’t even wait a full day.

Happiness leaps inside of me.

I wander back into the living room.

“What are you grinning at?” Asher asks, peering up at me from the floor.

“I’ve got a date.”

“With that idiot George?”

“Yes, with that idiot George, only he’s not an idiot. He’s wonderful.”

Lottie’s eyes are like saucers. “OMG, Zara! He broke the guy rules for you. He must be serious.”

Asher harrumphs. I ignore him.

“He seems like a good guy.” I’m totally downplaying it of course. Inside I’m happily skipping, leaping, and twerking my brains out.

Lottie tells me, “This could be the start of something big.”

“Give me a chance here. I’ve only just met the guy,” I protest, but I don’t mean a word of it. We had a connection in that brief conversation, and I for one am excited to see where this thing can go.