Hello Love (13 page)

TWENTY-SIX

Eating lunch at the Café Mocha later that week, Andrea couldn’t help but notice all the lovebird couples. Two college kids splitting an order of fries were one table over from an older couple who sat leisurely by the fireplace, sipping cappuccinos, lost in each other’s eyes. On the opposite side of the room, Philip sat with a gorgeous woman Andrea presumed to be his wife, Vanessa. Vanessa had an elegant high ponytail that emphasized her fabulous cheekbones and long, swanlike neck. She and her husband were splitting a large frosted cookie and comparing notes on the flavor. Like they couldn’t each have their own. Andrea sighed. First it was Cliff and Doreen, and now this. Love was definitely in the air. How nice for all of them. She reached down to drop a piece of meat to Anni, who waited underneath the table. When Anni was done eating, Andrea gave her a quick rub behind the ears. “That’s my girl,” she said.

When it was time to go, Andrea wrapped her scarf around her neck, and thought about putting on her knit beret, but stuffed it in her purse instead. For her, the scourge of winter had always been the cold, the slush, and the horror of hat hair. Knit hats, the kind that really kept your head warm, created static electricity and flyaway hair. Either that or dents on either side of her head. Luckily, it wasn’t snowing or cold enough to require a hat, or maybe it was that she’d just gotten used to it. As they left, Joan called out good-bye, and through the door they went, Anni bounding onto the sidewalk, happy to be on the move.

They were a few blocks away from the coffee shop when Andrea heard a loud shout. “Hey!” a man yelled, sounding irate. “Hey there, you with the dog!” Alarmed, she looked up to see a dark-colored junker pausing at the stoplight on the opposite side of the street. The car looked like it had been painted with a brush, and multiple bumper stickers covered the door. The driver, a guy in his twenties, had the window down and his arm all the way out, his hand fashioned like a gun pointing straight at her. The hand shaped like a gun and a black knit hat pulled over his forehead overshadowed the rest of his appearance.

“Me?” she said, looking around, but there was no one else in the vicinity, and not very many cars either.

“Yeah, you.” Now his voice was furious. “Where’d you get that dog? That’s not your dog.” Each word came out like machine gun fire, madder and louder. The yelling of a madman. Unpredictable and crazed.

Anni whimpered and pulled at the leash. Andrea followed her lead and kept walking, picking up the pace. Her heart pounded, as she went into defense mode, keeping her purse clutched to her side, scanning the road for other pedestrians who could help her. But no one else was around and she prayed silently that he’d just drive on and leave them alone.

“That’s my dog, bitch!” The traffic light went to green and he darted a mean glare their way before driving off. Anni’s body language had changed; her back hunched, tail tucked down. She trembled and pulled at the leash like she’d never done before. Already Andrea had surmised that this man was one of the frat boys, and the dog’s reaction confirmed it. Anni was afraid of this man.

Andrea crossed the street and looked both ways, but the streets were ghost town empty. The businesses up ahead, a barbershop, a gas station, and a tattoo parlor, weren’t necessarily the kind that would welcome dogs, but if she had to, she would dart inside for protection. She concentrated on her breathing.
Think. Think. Think.
What do people do in emergencies? Of course, they call 9-1-1. Why hadn’t she thought of that right away? She paused for a second to get her phone out of her purse and Anni whined at the interruption. “Just a minute, girl.” She felt better, having the phone in hand, just in case he came back.

When they went another thirty feet or so, she started to feel better. Anyone could be brave yelling out a car window. And Anni didn’t look that distinctive. There had to be other dogs that looked like her. Any reasonable person would know that. She could easily make the case that Anni was her dog. She’d say she’d had her for years. Who would know any differently? And better yet, who would believe him over her?

They passed the barbershop. Through the window Andrea noticed two chairs occupied by men getting haircuts, a reassuring, everyday sort of scene. Even Anni relaxed somewhat, still pulling on the leash, but not with enough force to almost yank Andrea off her feet. As they made their way down the block, she vowed not to walk this way with Anni again. She would drive or take another route. Having pepper spray on hand wasn’t a bad idea either. She’d find out where a person could get a can. Getting ID tags for Anni had been on her list, and she’d put it off for too long. This weekend she’d have the tags made and she’d look into getting a microchip implanted too. It would resolve any ownership disputes. The frat boys were not getting Anni back. It was never going to happen.

By the time they’d passed the tattoo shop and approached the gas station, her death grip on her phone had lessened a bit, and her heart rate had returned to normal, so when the man jumped out from behind the pump and onto the sidewalk, it took her by complete surprise. She gasped, the phone falling out of her hand and clattering onto the pavement.

“Where did you get that dog?” The guy’s face was contorted with rage. The knit cap pulled low, combined with his unshaven face, gave him a dangerous look.

Anni cowered and tried to go back the way they’d come, nearly wrapping the leash around her legs. Andrea struggled to keep calm and pull the leash short so that she could get Anni right next to her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. This is my dog,” she said with determination.

“That’s funny because she looks a lot like a dog I used to have. Someone reported me to the cops and they took her right out of my house.” His fists clenched by his sides. “It wasn’t even legal for them to go into my place. I checked. I know my rights.”

While he spoke, she spotted her phone on the ground a few feet from where she stood. If she bent to get it, would he try to take Anni? “Come on, Anni,” she said, clicking her tongue.

“Funny, my dog’s name was Anni too. And surprise, surprise, they look exactly the same,” he said, sneering. “Kind of a big coincidence.” He had a wild-eyed look and was close to her now, so close she could smell the beer on his breath.

“You’re scaring me. You need to back off.” She let her eyes dart over to the gas pumps. A middle-aged woman dressed in a parka was running her credit card through the pay station. If Andrea screamed, she would almost certainly call for help. She spoke, trying to appear calm. “Move aside. Right now.”

He hesitated, but just for a second, then took a step over and kicked her cell phone into the street. “Not until you tell me where you got the dog. Who called the cops? Tell. Me.” His upper lip curled cruelly as he reached for the leash.

Andrea had a tight grip on Anni’s leash, but he had his hand on it now too and was trying to yank it away from her. She tried to choke back her fear, feeling her knees go weak. At her side, Anni squirmed and whimpered, a trail of her urine steaming on the pavement. Andrea managed to spit out the word, “No,” and then something unloosed and she was able to scream, just a little bit at first and then louder and louder. The kind of wail toddlers make at the mall when they don’t get what they want. Earsplitting.

Time froze while she wrestled with the frat boy for control of the leash. He was in her face now, telling her to shut up. “Just tell me who called the cops!”

In those few moments she became hyper-aware of all her senses: the thin-pitched scream streaming out of her mouth in the crisp air, the pull of the leash against her gloved hand, and Anni straining to get behind her, away from him. Anni’s fear rose up the leash and became her own. Steadily mounting despair overcame her while she frantically wondered if anyone at the gas station heard what was going on. She felt her stomach knot up and her throat become raw.

Andrea heard the pounding of heavy footsteps on the pavement coming up behind the frat boy’s back, and then a man shouting, “Hey! Leave her alone!” The frat boy was hit from the side and caught off-balance. He let go of the leash and staggered before falling backward, landing on the sidewalk with a shocked expression on his face. Towering over him stood a man with broad shoulders.

It was Marco. Andrea had never been so glad to see him, ever, and that included all of their dating years and the day of their wedding. Marco leaned over the frat boy, who suddenly didn’t seem nearly so large, and pointed at Andrea, screaming, “Did you hurt that woman? Did you? If you hurt her, I’m going to kill you.” The vein in his forehead stood out, and he had both fists clenched as if ready for a fight.

“Dude,” the frat boy said, still sprawled on the pavement. “Just chill.”

“I’ll chill,” Marco said. “I’ll chill your stupid mouth right up your ass.” Which didn’t make much sense, but when Marco got agitated, there was no telling what might come out of his mouth.

Andrea took a few steps back and soothed Anni, who still trembled and whined. The poor thing didn’t like the man on the ground or all the shouting, and there was no way she could understand what was going on. Poor baby. “It’s okay, girl. It’s okay,” Andrea said.

Marco grabbed the frat boy’s coat and pulled him to his feet as easily as he would a child. “If you hurt her, you’re dead,” he screamed.

“I didn’t hurt anyone,” the frat boy said, real fear coming over his face. His eyes darted to Anni and Andrea. “We were just talking.”

Andrea said, “It’s okay, Marco. Just a misunderstanding.”

But once Marco became angry, he couldn’t shut it off just like that. He still had a grip on the guy’s coat and he had the look of a man ready to punch someone.

The frat boy followed Andrea’s lead. “It was just a misunderstanding.”

Marco said, “It didn’t look like a misunderstanding to me. I say we call the cops and get your ass charged with assault.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Andrea said. “Really, Marco, it’s okay.”

“Dude,” the frat boy said. “Listen to the lady. We’re all good here.”

“Let him go, Marco,” she said gently. “He’s not worth it.” With Anni still at her side, she stepped into the road and picked up her cell phone, which was slick with slush. She wiped it against her coat and stuck it in her pocket, all the while listening to Marco tell the guy how lucky he was that Marco was in a forgiving mood. “Any other day I would break every bone in your body,” he snarled.

“Okay, okay, I get it.” The frat boy held his hands up in surrender. The sight of him afraid gave Andrea some satisfaction. Good, she thought. Now you know how it feels.

Marco wasn’t done, though. “You apologize to the lady,” he said, one hand on the guy’s coat, the other pushing his chest. “Right now!”

The frat boy looked at Andrea and said, “I’m sorry.”

“Tell her why.”

He looked puzzled. “Why what?” he asked timidly.

“Tell her why you’re sorry, jerkwad.”

“Oh,” he said. “I’m sorry I thought you had my do
g . . .
”

“And?” Marco prompted.

“I’m sorry I grabbed the leash and threatened you. You seem like a very nice lady and I can see now that I made a big mistake.” He looked at Marco to see if his words had passed muster. “I’m really sorry. I will never bother you again.” The transformation from thug to penitent was amazingly swift.

Marco gave him a shove and the frat boy staggered backward, just catching himself before he toppled over again. “Get out of here,” Marco said, pointing off into the distance. “If I find out you’ve been anywhere near this woman again, I will hunt you down and make you pay.”

The frat boy ran off, his open coat flapping in the breeze, his footsteps muffled against the snowy sidewalk. Andrea watched as he rounded the corner and went out of sight. She said, “Thank you, Marco. I really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome,” he said gruffly. “My car’s over there. Why don’t I give you a ride?”

Andrea hesitated, but only for a second. She was still shaken up from the encounter and Anni was a mess too. The idea of walking the rest of the way to the office wasn’t at all appealing. “Fine,” she said, nodding. “But it doesn’t mean we’re getting back together. I just want a ride back to the office.”

She recognized his car, of course. It was a silver Jaguar, the one he’d bought used right before the divorce. Jade had called it his midlife-crisis-mobile. They could have gotten two cars for what this one had cost, but Marco had claimed it was an investment, a classic car that would only appreciate in value. Climbing into the passenger seat, Andrea pulled Anni onto her lap before fastening the seat belt. Lowering her head, Anni nervously licked her lips. “It’s okay, girl. You’re safe now,” Andrea crooned, positioning Anni to look out the window, away from Marco, who seemed to stress her out.

“You really like that thing, don’t you?” Marco said, pulling out of the gas station parking lot.

“How did you happen to be there?” she asked, ignoring his question.

“What?”

“How is it that you were there to show up at exactly the moment I needed help? Were you following me?” She glanced over. Even in profile, his grin was unmistakable.

“Sort of. I was heading to the coffee shop hoping to run into you when I saw you on the sidewalk. You looked like you could use some manly intervention.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Don’t help you? I should have driven right past?”

“No, not that. I appreciate the help, thank you,” she said. “But don’t go to the coffee shop trying to run into me. And don’t send me flowers. I gave them away, just so you know. Whatever this is you’re trying to do, it won’t work. We’re divorced and it took me a long time to come to peace with that. I’m in a good place. I wish you luck, but I don’t want to have coffee with you or for you to send me gifts. We’re done.”

“Oh, don’t be like that,” he said, his mouth downturned. They were stopped at a traffic light, so he was able to turn and look right into her eyes. “I mean, I know I deserve it and all. My behavior was reprehensible.” He grinned, both of them knowing that reprehensible wasn’t a word that would normally be in his vocabulary. This apology had been scripted ahead of time. “I do love you, Andrea. I don’t deserve another chance, but I’m hoping you’ll give me one.”