Love Is in the Air (98 page)

Normally Jazmine would have left it at that. Clearly the guy had no clue what he was doing, but he was the first person today, no make that this week, that Andrea had responded to at all. He was definitely better than that aging hippy chick that had offered to give them her recipe for “herbal” brownies. Or the guy in a full Native American headdress that thought channeling General Custer was somehow going to be helpful.

She cocked her head to the side, asking a question that had been on her mind a lot since entering this ballroom. “Which, by the way, would you be speaking dog to them or would they have to translate into English to talk with you?” she pressed, mainly to watch him squirm.

He was cute, she supposed, if you liked that type of I’m-trying-really-hard-to- look-like-I-don’t-care kind of look. If she had to hazard a guess, he’d spent more time perfecting bed-head look than studying animal behavior. And the artfully disheveled shirt with the cuffs unbuttoned? Please.

Jazmine cupped her hands over Andrea’s ears. “And then the kicker is that you can somehow do all of this communicating across the mysterious, unknowable veil between life and death?”

“It’s… it’s what the sign says.” Wyatt coughed, pointing at the banner…
Speak with your beloved pet, mind to mind
.

But even he didn’t look like he believed it. As exasperated as Jazmine was she had to admit that at the least he wasn’t trying to sell them anything. Not like the rest here. As a matter of fact, Wyatt had actually tried to warn her that he wasn’t a psychic. That had to count for something, right? Besides her main priority was Andrea.

“Look,” she said more softly. “I’m just the nanny, but her dad died last Christmas.”

Wyatt’s sad exhale caused Jazmine to pause. She hadn’t expected him to show any emotion let alone sympathy. He nodded solemnly to Andrea who sighed equally heavily in response.

“And now the dog…” Jazmine removed her hands from the little girl’s ears, instead stroking her hair. “Andrea hasn’t spoken since we took Blackie to the vet.”

Wyatt leaned over and patted Andrea’s knee. “That’s tough.”

“Her mom won’t allow any talk of…” Jazmine hugged Andrea close. “Well, of heaven or anything, so I thought if someone here could reassure her…”

“I hear ya,” the man replied softly.

Was he going to help? He looked like he was going to help. Bed head and all, but then he pulled back, his eyes scanning room like a coyote trying to get out of a bath. Jazmine watched as he seemed to struggle with himself then he abruptly stood.

“But I don’t think I’m your guy.”

She rose as well, “But you’re the only one she’s even remotely responded to though and I think—”

The buzzer sounded loudly, making the man across from her, her one hope for Andrea, jump like it zapped him in the pants.

“Sorry,” he said not soundly all that terribly sorry. “But duty calls.”

Jazmine watched helplessly as Wyatt sped to the next table, cuffs flapping wildly in his self-generated wind.

* * *

Bodhi surfaced from a haze of migraine pain to feel Diablo’s wet nose nudging insistently at his palm. He groaned as he rolled over in his bed, the pain impossibly blossoming into stabbing shards of glass. Diablo hopped over to Bodhi’s face, licked him twice on the cheek, then whimpered.

“It’s okay, little one, I just can’t get settled,” he murmured soothingly, trying to keep the pain out of his voice. He just needed to get back to sleep. If he could sleep this off, he would be fine. More than fine. He’d be able to get back up and maybe even make it to the event before Wyatt made a complete mess of things.

Good kid, Wyatt. Just a little self-absorbed. A bit more time with him, maybe some work with the animals. Animals could really turn a guy around. What better evidence for that than Bodhi himself?

Just a little more rest. Then he’d be up and running. No problem.

Diablo licked Bodhi’s face once more before snuggled into his neck. Now perhaps he could get some sleep.

* * *

Martin eyed the young lady that sat across from him. She had red hair. Some might call it cinnamon. He called it brassy. Not his tastes, per se, but he had been known to make an exception from time to time. He took his “concerned face” up a notch higher. Women loved to feel understood, and this look said nothing if it didn’t say,
I understand
. He really should trademark it.

She was saying something. Martin refocused his attention on her words rather than her locks.

“Anyway, I’m just the nanny and—”

“You’re the babysitter?” He retreated slightly from his compassionate-lean-in- posture. Well, this was an unpleasant bit of news. Not completely without remedy, however. “But your boss sent you with a check or a credit card perhaps?”

“Um. No,” the redhead stated. “She doesn’t even know that I’m here.”

Wait. Perhaps he should have paid slightly more attention to her situation before committing his
I understand
patent-pending pose. But all might not be lost. Au pairs could often exert enormous influence on an absentee parent worried about a child.

“So… no way to put down a retainer?”

“No,” the redhead stated firmly. Now why in the world would she become irritated by him? Yet she went on, “Like I just said, we’re just here for Andrea to grieve.”

“Your boss doesn’t want a sage cleansing ritual for the home?” Martin pressed. Surely there was an upsell in here somewhere.

“No.”

“A pro-biotic series of enemas?” All right, that was a long shot, but Martin could see the sale disappearing right before his eyes.

Her lips pressed firmly together, creating a most unattractive straight line. “
Definitely
not.”

A spark of inspiration caused Martin to glance at the morose rag-doll girl next to red head. Maybe the child was his ticket in.

“I can’t interest you in a lost pet séance for a slight fee?” He overrode the woman, going for the sale. “I’ll contact up to three animals.”

The woman crossed her arms. “That’s still a ‘
no
.’”

That was it. Crossed arms were the ultimate sale blocker. Martin knew when to cut his losses. Slouching back into his chair, he inspected his nails.

“Well, this is going to be a really long three minutes.”

* * *

Jazmine watched the man buff his nail against his sleeve. Okay, she got that this guy needed to make a living, but how could he be so… heartless? Yet there he sat, touching up his manicure when a heartbroken little girl sat right in front of him. And Jazmine could swear that his non-specific, vaguely European accent had dissolved into something distinctly more mid-western.

She glanced down at Andrea. God, that look of despair kicked Jazmine in the gut every time. Maybe Martin simply needed a little more promptly for his conscious to show up. Clearly her throat she started again.

“I was hoping you would help a little girl in pain…”

His dark, slicked back hair glistened as he turned to face her once more. His eyes scanned her up and down. Much like a person might survey a horse before they purchased them.

“Sorry,” he said with very little sympathy. “I don’t know. Something’s just not working for me.”

“What?”

“Maybe if you were younger or less red-headed,” he motioned to her hair. “Or maybe less curly, I’m not sure.”

Jazmine patted down a curl that had gone astray. “What are you talking about?”

“You want me to do you a favor,” Martin said as he leaned forward, that smooth accent working overtime again, “then I’d want…”

“You don’t mean—” Well, Jazmine couldn’t exactly say what he meant, at least not in front of Andrea. “You are such a—” Well, Jazmine couldn’t say that either now could she?

Martin waved his hand, chuckling, “Yeah, yeah,” The Ohioan in him coming out again. “You should have heard what the gerbil at table number nine just called me.”

Jazmine wasn’t sure if she felt better or worse that others felt the same about him. Before she could formulate an age-appropriate come back, Martin turned his attention to Andrea, taking his pitch straight to the little girl again.

“You wouldn’t happen to have any lunch money on you, would you?”

“No,” Jazmine snapped, pulling Andrea close to her. “She doesn’t.”

“Maybe I can interest you in an allowance payment plan?” Martin coaxed.

Jazmine couldn’t think of a single thing to say that was G-rated so she simply shook her head, sending those red curls Martin hated so much flying as she tucked Andrea in a hug.

Seriously. When were those three minutes going to be up?

* * *

Wyatt watched as the body builder’s massive bicep rippled up and down as he pet his… Shih-Tzu. His very small Shih-Tzu. His very small, very fluffy Shih-Tzu. His very small, very fluffly Shih-Tzu with a blue rhinestone collar.

Unlike most of the pets and their owners, who looked distinctly alike, this guy and his “dog,” - if you could call a Shih Tzu a dog. Really. Shih Tzu? It sounded more like somebody was in the middle of a curse when they sneezed – could not be more different. The contrast was well… shocking. And not in the good way.

Suppressing a chuckle. Wyatt responded “Soooo…” Um, how exactly was he going to put this without cracking himself up? “The other dogs are laughing at
him
, huh?”

There. Totally delicate.

“People laugh at him, too. It’s very upsetting to him.” The bodybuilder spoke with a light, pleasant tenor. “My girlfriend thinks—”

“Your girlfriend?” Whoa. Another curve ball. “Okay, you’re not a friend of Ashley over there, then?” Wyatt pointed to the mustached “lady.” They did seem like a natural pair.

The man’s eyebrows spoke his confusion much more eloquently than his response, “Ashley? Who?”

Wyatt regrouped. “All right, okay, good information.”

Girlfriend, huh? And a body builder? Those two things went together like a PBJ sandwich with the crust cut off. What didn’t go together was the extremely fluffy Shih Tzu and rhinestone-studded collar. Clearly Wyatt needed to take a slightly different tack.

“You see,” he started, motioning to the body builder’s muscles that bulged out from under his tank top. “You’re a big guy…” He waited for the gleam of understanding to appear. Nothing. So Wyatt did a Vanna White to the fluff ball. “And he’s a little dog…”

Wyatt let this one hang a bit longer. Still nothing.

“He’s really, really, really fluffy, and those little gems around his neck—”

“But they’re
blue
.”

“Yeah,” Wyatt answered. “I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that’s not really helping.”

The man’s slumped his shoulders in defeat. He stroked his pet dejectedly, his huge hands dwarfing the tiny dog’s head. These two were destined for years of being laughed at. Wyatt, unfortunately, could relate. Before he got his mojo and non-sticky hair gel, he had endured some heckling during high school. Clearly his classmates did not understand that he was years ahead of them fashion wise.

But then his uncle had come to rescue. Bodhi had suggested to Wyatt that instead of hiding in the bathroom every lunch period, that he laugh along with them. Or better yet find them something else to laugh about. Of course Bodhi had also promised that it would help him get chicks, but still. The dunking in the toilet had been reduced to a minimum.

If there was something Wyatt couldn’t stomach it was someone laughing at another. Granted this big body builder would probably have been one of those guys to shove Wyatt in a toilet, it still wasn’t right for people to be making fun of them.

Wait. Maybe that was the problem.

“You know,” Wyatt said, thinking on the fly. “I don’t get the sense that… Wooda-Baby?… That’s
really
his name?”

That tree trunk of a neck, nodded the body builder’s head up and down. “Yes, and sometimes, Wooda-Wooda-Wooda Baby.”

Really, this guy wasn’t making it any easier on himself or the dog. “Okay, well, my feeling is that Wooda doesn’t think they they are laughing
at
him.”

“Trust me, they
are
laughing.”

“Oh, trust me,” Wyatt said with a chuckle. “I don’t doubt that for a single instant. I just think Wooda is laughing
with
them.”

The man lifted his head. “What?”

“He’s a Shih-Tzu, right?” Wyatt asked. The man nodded vigorously. “Well, with a name like that… He’s
gotta
have a sense of humor.”

The look of defeat weighed down the man’s features. “I don’t know—”

“Come on, he’s sticking his tongue out all the time.” Wyatt said pointing to the aforementioned lolling appendage. “You don’t think a jovial guy like that can laugh at himself?”

The corner of the man’s mouth twitched upwards. “He is pretty light-hearted.”

“Yes, yes. See? He’s fine. He’s good. He likes the attention.” Wyatt breathed a sigh of relief. People may laugh at little Wooda, but what they didn’t know was that Wooda was laughing right along with them. And if they happened to be laughing at the guy standing next to Wooda, well, at least the body builder would be none the wiser.

“Wooda, Wooda, Wooda,” the man said, burying his face in the dog’s fur. “I
wuv, wuv, wuv
you.”

Okay, even the little old man next to them with a Chinchilla on his head was snickering at the sight. This table may require a slightly more aggressive intervention.

“But ya know,” Wyatt added, feeling genius about to descend upon him. “Wooda’s looking for a little change.” Off the man’s frown, Wyatt rushed on. “Not much. Just a
little
.”

“What do you mean?” the body builder asked as his eyes squinted.

This next part was going to take a leap of faith.

“I’m getting the sense from Wooda that he’s like a little hair cut?”

The frown was back as the body builder stroked Wooda’s long and completely tangle free coat. “But he loves it when I brush him.

“Oh, absolutely,” Wyatt barreled on, riffing all the way. “He’s just thinking of maybe going short for the summer. A buzz cut, so those girl dogs can see his muscles.”

“Then the collar will be too big.”