Charly's Epic Fiascos (13 page)

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Authors: Kelli London

BOOK: Charly's Epic Fiascos
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17
T
he city bus doors closed behind her, and Charly made her way down the aisle, looking for a place to sit as she held onto each seat, trying to steady herself. Her feet squished inside her boots with each step, and she was sure people were watching her. Rain or storm, she was certain no one could've been more drenched than she.
“I'm telling you, I can't stand these dogs,” she heard a woman say as she passed her seat. “If I didn't make so much money from selling 'em, I'd send 'em all to the pound—instead of just this one. Well, actually, I ain't sending it to the pound. Too much paperwork. I'm gonna leave it in a box somewhere,” the woman declared.
“Why don't you just drop it off at a vet? Don't just leave the thing to die,” some other passenger said.
Charly released her wet weight in the seat just in front of the bus's back doors and put her purse on the empty one next to her. She scrunched her face at the squishy feeling of her wet pants sticking to the plastic seat. The driver assured her that the Panera Bread was on the bus's route, and promised to let her know when the stop was coming up. Charly only hoped they were talking about the same restaurant. Her recent travel history dictated that there would be some sort of problem, and that's what she was expecting.
“I'm going to Wally World,” the loud lady up front was still talking. “I'm gonna sell as many of 'em as I can. Some man 'posed to meet me there to buy the litter, but he don't want no runts,” she was telling someone in the seat across from her, who Charly couldn't hear.
For less than a second, Charly wondered what a runt was; then the woman answered her question. She held up the cutest dog Charly had ever seen, gripping it by the loose skin on the back of its neck. Charly winced, sure that the way the woman was handling the dog had to hurt. Thoughts of Brooklyn and her sad eyes made Charly's heart bleed for the puppy.
“You know pets aren't allowed on the bus,” the driver announced over the bus's speakers through a CB-like device.
The lady laughed, then removed the dog from sight. “I know the rules. You know that,” the lady said loudly. “And you know these ain't no pets. These here dogs are my job—how I make money. So I guess you can call 'em commercial property.” She laughed, reaching across the aisle and slapping someone five. “All except that one,” she continued. “That one gon' be the property of puppy heaven. See what I'm saying? Put. To. Sleep. Rat poisoning or something should do.”
Charly cringed and stared straight ahead. The poor puppy had no more of a chance at happiness or living than she'd had at Brigette's house.
“About thirty minutes to Panera,” the driver announced, glancing at Charly in the large rearview mirror.
Charly nodded and smiled a thank-you. Warm air blew from the vents above, and Charly settled in for the ride. Her eyes were tired, and she decided to close them for a moment. A quick nap would let her rest up and make the ride go by faster.
“Panera in two stops,” she thought she heard the driver say as someone pulled her boot. Her eyes shot open. She'd been through a lot, but to think someone would have the nerve to take her boots while she was still in them was a bit much. She moved her feet around on the floor, and didn't feel anything. She had to have been dreaming, she told herself, closing her lids again.
“Ouch!” A sharp pain punctured her leg, and she reached for the wound, opening her eyes again and looking around. There was no one around, but she was almost certain she'd been stabbed with a needle. Her eyes moved to the seat next to her. Her purse was gone. Gone. Charly jumped up, frantically looked around; then she calmed. Her bag had slid on the floor. Relief moved through her as she sat back down in the seat and reached for the long strap. She froze. The purse moved. She didn't know whether to scream or run. She opened her mouth to yell out, but was silenced by a slight whimper.
“Next stop, Panera” the bus driver said, nodding to Charly.
“Puppy. Puppy. Puppy!” Puppy Peddler called. “The runt done got away. She gotta be somewhere 'round here. Soon as I find her, I'm throwing her into the water. Never mind all this poisoning stuff,” she said. “I almost forgot about that . . . Drowning always works.”
Charly opened her purse all the way and locked eyes with the runt the lady was looking for. The bus pulled over, and a loud, airy noise sounded as the doors opened.
“Panera!” the driver informed Charly.
Charly looked over and saw that she had indeed been taken to the correct location. She breathed deeply, pushed the puppy down into her purse, then exited the bus, ignoring Puppy Peddler's pleas for someone to help her locate the dog that she was planning to drown.
The rain had stopped. Charly walked quickly toward the Panera Bread, looking for someone who resembled Lola. As if sensing her name being thought of, Lola's name popped up on Charly's cell phone screen.
“I'm here,” Charly said instead of hello.
“Whew. Good. I'm glad to hear it, and it's about time. You should've seen all I had to go through to get that money to you. First off, you know I didn't have it. Secondly, I had to go to Smax, who made me give up a month's worth of free meals for it. Now you know you owe me for that. You know I don't give up my meals, Charly,” Lola said. “I guess Stormy told you about Brigette, huh?” she rattled.
Charly nodded her head, listening to Lola go on and on, all while looking for Lola's cousin. Pressing her forehead against one of Panera Bread's huge windows, she didn't see anyone inside who resembled Lola. Stepping back, she looked over and saw a bench. She could wait there, she decided, then saw it was wet. She'd had enough water on her butt, and didn't feel like enduring her pants sticking to her any more than they already were. A dog barked somewhere in the distance, catching Charly's attention. A huge sign for a pet store that she hadn't before noticed suddenly stood out. Her cash was extremely low, but her new dog would need food. She shrugged. Lola had wired money to her cousin to give to Charly.
“Why not?” Charly said to herself, walking toward the pet store.
“Why not what?” Lola asked from the other end of the phone.
“Oh, I was . . .” Charly's world stopped spinning. Just up ahead, a Jaguar just like Nicole's was parked alongside the curb. The trunk and driver's side door was open, but Charly couldn't see the owner.
“Hold on,” Lola said, then clicked over.
Charly sped up, petting the dog, who'd stuck out its head from her purse. She narrowed her eyes, trying to see who the car belonged to.
“You there? Charly?” Lola asked. “Dang, I hate these three-ways. I can never figure out how to conference these dumb calls.”
“I'm here. Can you hear me?” Charly asked, still walking. The car was farther than she'd thought.
“Yes. Can you hear us? My cousin's on the line.”
A garbled, mechanical noise met Charly's ears. Obviously, someone was on the phone with Lola. Charly just couldn't hear them. “I can only hear you, Lola. It must be a bad connection.”
“I can hear both of you guys fine,” Lola said. “She said she's already there, Charly. In the parking lot waiting for you. She said she needs you to hurry up because she left her friend at the store to come get you.”
Charly stopped walking and looked around. There was no one in front of Panera Bread, and she didn't see anyone or anything except the Jaguar that looked a lot like Nicole's. She shook her head, ready to fight. If she ever laid eyes on Nicole again, only God and the angels would be able to help her, she promised herself. She was tired of people stealing from her, and she swore that Nicole would have to take a beat-down for all of them. She was only feet from the car now, and was almost sure it was the same Jag.
“What's your cousin's name?” she finally asked Lola. Then her eyes bulged. She could see inside the open trunk, and, sure enough, lavender luggage was inside.
“Her name's Nicole. She said she's driving a new Jaguar. You can't miss her. We look just alike,” Lola said enthusiastically.
Charly's jaw dropped and her feet froze. A young lady about her size and a little bit darker-complected appeared from the front of the car, and closed the trunk. Her hair was so blond it was almost white, and it was all over her head just like Lola's.
She turned and locked eyes with Charly. “Charly?” she laughed. “I can't believe it's you.”
Charly just looked. She was face-to-face with the same Nicole she'd been with for hours. The same Nicole she thought had stolen from her and left her stranded. “What happened to your hair and glasses?” Charly asked. “Why'd you leave me?”
Nicole waved her hand, walking up to Charly. “Oh, I change my looks all the time. Wigs. Contact lenses. Glasses. You name it, I rock it.” She smiled. “I left because I was supposed to come get
you
from here. . . .” She shrugged. “Lola finally got through to me while I was in the store, and said it was an emergency. As you know, my phone had died. Remember, I was charging it before we left.” She laughed, shaking her head. “I can't believe all that time I thought I was waiting for a dude named Charlie, I was waiting for you. Stupid text on the cells. I don't know why they call the auto-correct feature smart text.” She pulled out her phone, pressed a couple of buttons and showed it to Charly. “See?”
Charly shook her head and laughed. Lola's first text read:
Charlie @ Panera, Plymouth Rd.
“Okay. You really had phone problems. Auto-correct smart text and dead battery. I tried calling you, but kept getting sent to your voice mail that hasn't been set up, by the way.”
“Let's go,” Nicole said. “We gotta get you to New York.”
18
D
owntown Detroit was live. L.I.V.E. and in living color. Girls and women had flawless and sometimes colorful hairdos. A lot of older men resembled males from an era when they wore suits that matched from the lining all the way down to the socks and insides of Dobb brims. Many were in different flavors, and looked like they had been designed by Crayola. The younger guys stood out like they were fluorescent. The dudes weren't bright. They just seemed extra gorgeous, and Charly couldn't help but look at them. Still, though, on West Jefferson, none were as beautiful as Mason.
“Haa-shew!” Nicole sneezed for the kazillionth time, then rubbed her eyes. “If I didn't grow up around animals, I'd think I was allergic to your dog. I must be coming down with something,” she said, turning down a street lined with apartment buildings, shotgun houses, and brownstones.
Charly covered her mouth and nose. The last thing she needed was to catch a cold. The dog wiggled on her lap, licking her wrist. She smiled.
“I still can't believe that lady was gonna put that tiny thing to sleep,” Nicole said, nodding toward the puppy. “So you thought of a name yet?” she asked.
Charly held up the dog and looked into its eyes. She'd been eyeing him on her lap for the better part of the trip, and couldn't think of a name for him. Her eyes moved from his cute little puppy face to his stomach to his tail. Something was missing. “Um . . . well, it won't be a boy's name,” she told Nicole. “It seems that he is a she.”
Nicole laughed. “We're terrible dog owners. We've been calling
her
a
him
for almost an hour. We're here,” she announced, pulling into an apartment building parking lot.
They got out of the Jaguar, and made their way to the back of the car. Charly put the dog on the ground and tightly gripped the leash they'd stopped and purchased from the pet store along with food, a toy, a collar, and an inexpensive dog tag that had Marlow's name and Charly's number engraved on it. She was waiting for Nicole to open the trunk, then remembered that Nicole didn't want her to see the contents. She began to walk away.
“I know you don't expect me to get my stuff
and
yours too,” Nicole said.
Charly raised her brows. “You didn't want me to see what was in it before—”
“Before I knew you were Lola's best friend. That changes everything.” She put her hands on her hips and deadpanned. “So, best friend, I suggest you come help me. We are almost related, after all.” She popped the trunk and took out a folded shopping cart.
“What in the . . . H-E-Double-L?” Charly asked, disbelief on her face. The trunk of Nicole's car had enough expensive merchandise to fund a small village. Mink and leather coats. Jewelry. Designer handbags. Shoes that retailed for almost a thousand dollars in magazines. Charly's eyes lit.
Electronics
. “Oh my . . .” she said, picking up a box as if it would break. “This is the phone the guy in the store showed me. This hasn't even been released yet. How did you . . . ?”
Nicole unfolded the shopping cart, laughing and ignoring Charly's question. She took out Charly's luggage set, and handed it to her. “Can't believe this trunk is so deep. Who would think all this would fit in here?” she said, filling the cart. “Let's go,” she said, then closed the trunk and pressed a button. The car alarm beeped, signaling it was activated.
What Charly assumed to be Nicole's apartment building wasn't really her residence at all. “This way,” Nicole had instructed, wheeling the shopping cart toward the back of the parking lot, then pushing it to the side. “Help me,” she said to Charly, then walked behind a huge Dumpster. Charly raised her brows, then rolled her luggage next to Nicole's things. She wrapped the dog's leash on the telescopic handle of her bag so the nameless puppy couldn't run away and followed Nicole.
“Here,” Nicole said, handing a wooden crate to Charly, and then another and another. With the crates out of the way, Charly saw a steel door that had wheels on the bottom. Nicole pressed a couple of buttons on a keypad, and Charly could hear a faint click. With two hands and a bit of woman power, Nicole slid open the door until it all but disappeared behind tall, overgrown and unkempt bushes. “Go ahead and go in,” Nicole instructed, stepping to the side and rearranging the wooden crates, stacking them next to the opening.
Charly got her luggage and scooped up the puppy, then entered through the opening. Her eyes strained in the darkness, trying to see where she was. Suddenly, low lighting alongside a stacked-stone walkway turned on automatically, allowing her to see clearly. The yard resembled a semi-fortress, boxed in by steel gates that were higher than she was tall. There were pine trees around the perimeter of the small space, which looked like an English garden.
“Year-round greenery. They don't shed,” Nicole explained as if her backyard being fortress-like was normal. She slid the gate door until it clicked.
Charly stepped off the walkway to allow Nicole room to go around her and lead the way. Her eyes brightened more and more. She was in disbelief, and had never seen such a yard before. Her eyes landed on the back of the brownstone, and she looked for signs of life in the windows. Surely, Nicole couldn't live in the big space alone. There had to be other tenants, she thought.
“Come in,” Nicole said, unlocking the back door and entering. The lights popped on.
Charly stood by the door, gazing inside. Hard flooring that looked as if it belonged in a five-star hotel was underneath expensive furniture. Statues and paintings decorated what must've been a den. “Marble?” she asked.
Nicole nodded and shrugged. “Yeah. A donation,” she explained. “Come in. Don't just stand there.”
Hesitantly, as if she would break anything she touched, Charly eased inside. Everything about Nicole had the wow factor. Charly was afraid to wheel her luggage across such an expensive floor, and even more afraid of putting the dog down on it. If either she or the dog destroyed anything in Nicole's place, she knew she'd never be able to replace or fix it.
Nicole waved her hand in a follow-me motion, then journeyed into another area of the house. “You can sleep here,” she said, pointing to a sofa in a small office space, which was really a hallway. Bookshelves with a recessed desk were on one wall, the couch was on the opposite one, facing the workstation. “You can get to the bathroom through there.” She pointed left. “Kitchen's over here.”
Charly looked left and right, taking note. “Where's your bedroom?” she asked, thinking it had to be on another floor. The brownstone was large, and what Nicole had shown her of the place was small.
“We passed it. It's right off the living room where we came in.” She ran her fingers through her wild blond hair, then rubbed her eyes. She sneezed. “Mmm. I need to take some medicine, maybe some vitamins. I don't know where this cold is coming from, and my eyes itch.”
Charly put her luggage next to the sofa. She cradled the puppy to her, then bounced it gently as if it were a baby. “I don't understand. The place looks so huge from the outside. And I don't know why, but I assumed you lived in the whole building.”
Nicole laughed. “I guess Lola doesn't know. If she did, I'm sure you would because she can't hold water. But I do own the whole building, and I'm the only one who lives here.”
Charly sat, still cradling the puppy. “How old are you?” she had to ask. Nicole looked way too young to have so much, and she wondered what she really had and how she'd gotten it. After all, Lola had had to wire money for Nicole to come get her.
“Twenty-two.”
Charly's eyes bulged. She held up the dog to her face and began rubbing noses with her. She didn't know what else to say to Nicole without seeming so nosy, so she stayed quiet.
“Question,” Nicole said, walking in front of Charly and squatting. She petted the puppy from behind. “You've never had an animal before or something? You seem very attached. Too attached not to have named this dog yet.”
Charly thought back to the dog her dad had surprised her with when she was four. The same one her mother had dropped off at the pound less than twenty-four hours later. She nodded. “Yes, for a hot second. Then Brigette—that's my mother, unfortunately—took Marlow away when I was at daycare.” A saddened smile crossed her face as she thought about Marlow.
Nicole patted the puppy's head. “Now you have another Marlow, and your mom can't take her.”
Charly smiled. Yes, she did have another Marlow. “That's her name. In memory of my first puppy, this one's named Marlow 2, like in the number two.” She stopped petting Marlow 2, then looked Nicole dead in her eyes. “Okay, so now that I'm here, I think I should know. What do you do, Nicole?”
“I'm a contractor. You know, like real estate? Building?”
Charly was impressed. She'd never met a contractor before, though she'd seen several on HGTV and knew a bit about what they did. “Cool. So you help build houses, apartments? What?”
Nicole stood and winked. She waved her hand for Charly to follow her. “I build people and communities. And so will you . . . if you want to make money to get to New York.” She shrugged. “Then there's always the row,” she said, laughing and confusing Charly because she had no idea what a row was.

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