Dog Training The American Male (37 page)

“Are you pregnant?”

“What? No.” Her eyes welled-up
with tears. “I have uterine cancer.”

“Oh, shit.” Jacob sat up, his
suddenly flaccid penis flopping inside his shorts. “How bad is it?”

“Pretty bad.”

* * * *
*

Nancy followed Olivia
through the
stateroom and outside to the aft deck bar. Seated on a sofa shaped like a giant
lifesaver was a couple in their late thirties. The man was Venezuelan, possessing
an athletic physique beneath his ivory suit, his dark hair slicked back into a
pony-tail. The woman was his equal, her long platinum-blonde hair pulled into a
stylistic weave atop her head, exposing her well-defined shoulders and upper
back.

“Dr. Beach, I want you to meet
Mercedes Duggan, the producer I told you about, and this is her fiancé,
Sebastian Bastidas.”

“Nancy?”

Nancy’s eyes widened in the dim
light. “Sebastian?”

Mercedes smiled nervously.
“Darling, do you know this woman?”

“You might say that,” Nancy
interjected. “Your fiancé and I were engaged two years ago when I found out he
was fucking my roommate.”

Instead of reacting, the platinum
blonde playfully tugged on Sebastian’s earlobe. “You are such a bastard, aren’t
you?”

“Guilty as charged.”

Nancy’s blood boiled. “Yeah? Well
he not only fucked her, he got her pregnant!”

“Really?” Olivia said. “Boy or
girl?”

“A boy. Little bastard has my
eyes.”

Sebastian’s sheepish grin poured
gasoline on the fire flowing through Nancy’s veins. “Let’s hope he doesn’t have
your dick!”

“Dr. Beach—”

“No, I’m sorry Olivia, but this
creep ruined my life. Asshole!”

“Is your life really ruined?”
Mercedes asked.

“Yes. No. Not anymore.”

“Would it have been better if you
had married Sebastian?”

“No. Definitely not.”

“Then his cheating with your
roommate turned out to be a blessing . . . yes?”

Nancy felt her cheeks flush. “I
suppose.”

Sebastian nodded. “You’re
welcome.”

Nancy stomped on his right shoe as
hard as she could, the heel of her pump crushing his big toe through the
Italian leather.

* * * *
*

Jacob hugged Ruby
, his skin tingling
against hers. “When’s the surgery?”

“Monday morning. I’m scared, Jacob.”

“Listen to me. You know how it
seems like everyone has that one thing they do very well. Surgery is what my
brother does really well. The guy was on-track to become a great brain surgeon
when he switched to women’s plumbing after Helen’s mother died of breast cancer.
But she didn’t have a surgeon as good as Vince. So don’t be scared, okay?”

 “Okay.”

He massaged her shoulders, his
hands becoming two spider-like creatures, working their way toward Ruby’s—

“Sweetie, what are you doing?”

“Feeling fig newtonie.”

“What?”

“Remember that old commercial
jingle? Ewwie gooey, rich and chewy inside. Golden flaky-bakey on the outside . . .”

Ruby pushed him away. “That
little shit, Cyril—I bet he slipped something in your drink.”

“I need to suck on something. Can
I suck on your lips? They look eewie-gooey.” Jacob tried to kiss her, only Ruby
ducked away. She didn’t get far – Jacob’s watch catching on her strapless dress,
causing her left breast to flop out—just as the cabin door opened.

Nancy covered her mouth. “Oh my
God.”

Jacob smiled stupidly. “Nancy,
hi. This is Ruby and this is Ruby’s tit. We had an itty bitty titty of a
wardrobe malfunction.”

Disgusted, Nancy backed away, slamming
the door shut.

“Your girlfriend?”

“She was.”

Ruby repositioned her breast, and
then slapped Jacob hard across his face. “Sober yet?”

“No, but my face hurts . . . ow.”

“Go after her!”

“And say what?”

“Apologize, Jacob.”

“For what? Never mind.” Jacob ran
out of the stateroom—

ZAP!

He collapsed in a heap, his legs
twitching.

Olivia helped him up. “Darling,
are you all right?”

“What happened?”

“You must have tripped. Come with
me, your head is bleeding.” She led him across the passage to the portside
master stateroom—a gaudy bedroom with ropes around the bedposts and sexual
devices adorning the walls.

Olivia hit a switch, causing
music to play, the cabin darkening with mood lighting.

The music pulsated in Jacob’s
veins, the lights melding into pools of colors in his eyes. “I . . . I
should go.”

Olivia shut the door, the dress
slipping off her shoulders.

Jacob glanced out the tinted
window. He saw Nancy by the guard rail, hailing a water taxi. “I have to go—”
He struggled to rise off the bed . . .

ZAP!
He went down
again, the colors in his vision sizzling like fireworks.

Olivia straddled him. “Cyril
thinks he’s so clever—I knew you weren’t gay.”

Jacob flung her off his waist
onto the floor. He made it to the door when . . .

ZAP!
He was
suddenly on the floor, his legs rubber.

“Stud-muffin, I’m gonna ride you
until the sun comes up over Santa Monica Boulevard.”

The cabin door was forcibly
opened, smashing him in the head.

It was Truman.

“Another rabbit, caught in your
trap, eh Olivia?” Reaching down, he grabbed Jacob by his jacket collar and dragged
him to his feet. “Go find your girlfriend before you lose her.”

Jacob nodded, then rushed out of the
cabin and up the stairs—in time to see Nancy speed away in a water taxi.
Distraught, he glanced across the dark waterway.

They were back in the
Intracoastal, cruising at ten knots past the private docks and yards of luxury
homes—land a good hundred yards away across a forbidding, dark chop.

Cyril joined him, holding an
inflatable life vest. “Sorry about the ecstasy, but you’ll need it to overcome
your fear.”

“You think I’m swimming at night?
In that?”

“I don’t know. I guess it depends
on how much you like the girl.”

Still a bit high, Jacob removed
his tux jacket, his heart pounding as he slipped his arms through the vest,
securing it around his waist.

Cyril yanked on the cord,
inflating the vest. He leaned in, pursing his lips. “For luck.”

Jacob punched him in the mouth.
“Thanks for a wonderful evening.” Climbing over the rail, he jumped from the
moving vessel.

He sank into thundering blackness.
For a frightening moment he was caught in the suction of the passing yacht, dragged
deep underwater.

Somewhere in this maelstrom of panic
his consciousness latched onto a memory.

“Fears actually create what
we’re afraid of. It’s always the guy who’s afraid of amputees that runs into a
VA hospital. The people who are afraid of flying—those are the ones who always
find themselves on the planes experiencing turbulence. Fear manifests a
negative energy field that brings the actual situation to life. When you panic you’ve
shut yourself off from God. Instead of drowning in fear, focus your mind on
swimming to the solution.”

 Swim asshole!

Jacob kicked and paddled against
the current—his head breaking the surface in time to be washed over by the
yacht’s wake. He gagged and fought his way to another breath even as he looked
around frantically to make sure there were no other boats bearing down on him.

 
Sharks . . .Olivia
said my head was bleeding!

Shut-up and swim!

He targeted the pier of a
restaurant and started swimming, no longer afraid.

DOG
TRAINING THE AMERICAN MALE

Lesson Fourteen: UNCONDITIONAL LOVE

The water taxi
had taken Nancy to a restaurant where she had caught a cab back to the Bridge
Hotel to get her car, burning through an entire
Adele
CD on the drive
home.

It was after ten by the time she
keyed into her house—only to be bulldozed by Sam. Enraged, she dragged the dog
into the kitchen by its cinch collar, tossing the German Shepherd out back. “I
don’t need you in my life anymore either!”

Entering her bedroom, she stripped
off the cocktail dress and donned her running clothes.

The dog leapt at the sliding
glass door, demanding to go with her.

“Forget it!”

She grabbed her house key and stormed
out the front door, her mind replaying the events of the last two hours. After
a minute sprint, she settled into a steady pace, her jog fueled by anger.

How did I allow the dog up on
the couch this time, Lana? I held the leash tight, kept Jacob in total control,
gave him wild sex . . .and he still cheated on me!

Rounding the block, she continued
on a second lap.

Lean in . . . Be
in control – bullshit! There is no control. Who we’re born to . . . who
raises us . . .who lies to us . . . who gets
cancer.
Tears welled in her eyes as she thought about her father.

 Nancy slowed. It was late, the
night quiet. She reached the end of the block and continued running.

 
Push through the pain. The
only thing we can control is ourselves. Like you have any control . . .big
hypocrite. Ratings, job, boyfriends, birth parents . . .it’s all
bullshit. Life is bullshit.

* * * *
*

Two blocks west
, an unmarked police car
drove slowly through the neighborhood, its lights off. The cop riding shotgun
signaled his partner to pull over to the curb behind a 2005 Buick LeSabre. “This
vehicle wasn’t here ten minutes ago. Let’s run the plates.”

* * * *
*

In the backyard
, Sam whined, pacing
nervously by the fence. The dog was agitated by a familiar smell in the air.

* * * *
*

Nancy approached the
end of another
block, the sidewalk disappearing behind a seven foot hedge. Still moving at a
brisk pace, she followed the path—startled by a cat that jumped out from behind
the row of shrubs. Her heart beating wildly, she stopped and bent over, smiling
at her own fear—

—her hair suddenly tearing from
her scalp as she was forcibly dragged backwards through the bushes, her skull
bludgeoned by an object that flooded her vision with blinking purple lights.

Nancy opened her eyes, confused.
She was on her back in the wet grass, the night sky spinning, her skull
throbbing.

She felt her assailant before she
saw him – he was straddling her hips, his weight pressing down on top of her,
his red buzz-cut familiar beneath the dark hood of his running suit.

The jogger . . . the
one Sam was growling at!

Oh, Jesus – he’s out to rape
me!

She screamed—then abruptly stopped
as he pressed the edge of a sharp knife to her throat. “Do that again and I’ll
open a vein.”

She laid her head back, fighting
the nausea rising up her esophagus. She heard Sam barking a million miles away;
she felt her body trembling uncontrollably as he leaned in closer and whispered
in her ear. “This is going to happen, do you understand? Lay back and enjoy it.
Make noise and you die.”

She stifled a cry as he yanked
hard on her jogging pants . . .

* * * *
*

The dog had
heard the cry.

Sam repeatedly attempted to leap
the fence but it was far too high. Circling the yard past the training circuit,
the German Shepherd suddenly broke for the doghouse and leaped onto its A-frame
roof, using it to hurdle the fence.

The dog landed hard on the other
side of the fence, regained its feet and raced across the street as it picked
up its master’s scent—

--cutting off the unmarked police
car. The vehicle braked hard, its driver executing a sharp U-turn to follow the
loose canine.

* * * *
*

The touch of
alien flesh to her naked
thighs was too much. Nancy opened her mouth to cry out—only her breath was taken
away as a brown blur smashed into her assailant, the suddenly clear night air
rent with terrifying growls and a man’s screams.

Somewhere in the insanity, Nancy crawled
away, her mind still shattered. She managed to hike her pants over her exposed
hips and buttocks and curl into a ball of sniffling paralysis beneath the shrub—the
chaos of screams interrupted by piercing red and blue strobe lights.

The unmarked cop car screeched to
a halt, its two officers moving quickly, their guns drawn, their car’s
searchlight revealing the German Shepherd, its teeth tearing into the jogger’s
blood-soaked sleeve.

“Help!”

“Partner, I’ve got a clear shot . . .”