crazy parallel universe did I think I could just take over Gavin Slater’s dog and his apartment and everything would be OK? I’m deliberate. Prudent. Careful. Safe.
I’m blowing it.
“I didn’t know,” I admit in a tiny voice.
“Don’t worry,” Charles reassures me. “You were just trying to be nice to him. He’s a basenji—an African dog. Their breed is finicky and about as obedient as cats, but basenjis were originally bred to hunt lions.”
“Lions?” I can’t hide the skepticism in my voice. Jasper is barely a step up from a purse-dog. “What were they—bait?”
“They’re tougher than they look.” Charles strokes Jasper’s side as he recovers. “These dogs are from Kenya, same place my parents are from, and they can’t handle shrimp or most seafood.”
“Now you tell me,” I mutter.
Charles doesn’t hear me. “But cheese is another matter. This dog is so cheese-obsessed, he will do anything for cheese, even high-five me. I keep dog biscuits for most residents’ dogs, but I keep cheese in that little fridge under my desk for Jasper.”
“How old is he?” I ask.
“Gavin got him maybe three months ago, and he was still a little puppyish then,” Charles says thoughtfully. “So I guess something less than a year? It’s a real shame Gavin had to travel so suddenly. Jasper’s a nice dog.”
Ah, yes, the sudden travel. Strike three hundred and forty nine against Gavin Slater, Rock Star and Dog-Neglecter.
A much-recovered Jasper and I say goodbye to Charles, but I feel anger blooming in my gut along with the wine. Who the hell does he think he is? I decide to send him a message.
Dear Mr. Slater,
You’ll be pleased to know your apartment is being cleaned and we have sorted, paid, and filed all of your bills. You will see each bill itemized on your client account statement, with charges against the credit card you have on file with us.
Additionally, we learned that Barks in the Park will no longer board Jasper, so we have arranged for a house sitter to care for the dog at your apartment until you return. Please advise us of your return date so we can make arrangements.
Sincerely,
B. Sutton
Keystone Property Management
“You’re welcome.” I scowl and hit SEND to dispatch the email even though it sounds snotty. After all, he’s paying Keystone a ton of money to deal with the details of life that most humans handle as a matter of course.
I imagine he takes our service, and most other things in his life, for granted.
CHAPTER TEN
It’s late when I take Jasper downstairs for a quick pee. Charles trades him a bite of cheese for a hand-to-paw high five.
I realize that I’ve got to figure out where I’m sleeping and if any of the bathrooms are sanitary enough for a shower tomorrow morning. I don’t want a repeat of the frigid, dripping shower from this morning’s hotel room.
Back in the apartment, I explore beyond the living room and Jasper follows me, his toenails clicking on the hardwood. A massive granite island lit by pendant lights strung from the ceiling divides the living room and kitchen.
Under the grime, the kitchen is beautiful—it has a huge, glass-door Subzero fridge, a deep double sink facing the terrace and view, and a six-burner stove with a grill top.
But the abundance of takeout cartons, which I still haven’t eliminated entirely from the apartment, suggests that not much cooking is done here.
I turn a corner and discover an office dominated by an old wooden desk with papers strewn everywhere, so thick I can’t see the floor. I leave the glass French doors to that room closed and move on.
I find a small powder room next, with some kind of sludge filling part of the sink bowl. I’m getting good at suppressing my gag reflex, so I hit the drain lever and as it glug-glug-glugs down the sink I note that the toilet paper roll has just a scrap clinging to it. Mental note to buy more.
Jasper runs ahead of me as we climb a steep, spiral metal