Sparkle Abbey - Get Fluffy

Cliff, on the other hand, seemed like a nice enough guy, but after two years of marriage he’d had enough of Mona and had left their multi-million dollar mansion for a “modest” yacht he’d named Ruthless (Mona’s middle name was Ruth). Last I’d heard he’d docked the boat at Dana Point Marina, about twenty minutes south.

“Melinda, we have business to attend to. I don’t have all day,” Mona insisted.

I took a deep breath, well aware I couldn’t afford a repeat of last night.

“Mona, I have customers to assist. I will meet with you next week. Like we agreed.” One look around the shop, and anyone could see that my customers weren’t blazin’ a trail to pay up and leave behind the free entertainment.

“You don’t really want to cross me. Do you?” Mona tilted her head. Not much. Just enough to make her face look more intimidating than normal.

“We’re not afraid of you.” Darby’s bouncy blond curls slapped the side of her face. She stood next to me in an attempt to give the illusion of a united front.

Mona’s shrewd eyes locked on her. “You should be my little rabbit.”

Darby sucked in a sharp breath. She opened and closed her mouth, but no words came out. Her small frame vibrated in what I assumed was panic and anger. I squeezed my best friend’s hand.

“Mona, leave Darby out of this.” I kept my voice low, trying my darnedest to not make a scene. “If you have something to say to me, say it. Otherwise, get out.”

Darby wagged her finger at Mona, not willing to back down. “Some day, you’ll get what what’s coming to you.”

I could have sworn Mona stiffened, but it was hard to tell since she was already so unyielding.

Tricia stuffed her phone inside her Marc Jacobs bag and looked at Mona for their next move. We all waited.

Mona didn’t disappoint.

“When you continue to humiliate people in public, the only way for them to save face is to sue,” Mona slipped her sunglasses into the protective case.

“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.” Sue for what? Geez Louise. I didn’t have patience for mind games.

Mona casually adjusted her purse strap, and then thrust the figurative dagger into my back and twisted. “I called your mother last night. Babs and I had a wonderful time catching up. I talked her into coming out for a visit.”

I wasn’t afraid of Mona, but I was absolutely avoiding my mother (for the record, no one called Barbara Langston “Babs” to her face). I love my Mama, but she left me dog-tired.

“I’m sure you left out the part where you called her a prostitute,” I said. I had every right to be upset at my Mama, but for an outsider to insult her (and anyone who’s not family is just that, an outsider), was unacceptable.

I heard a soft gasp. I looked around the shop. There were at least five customers pretending to study the merchandise.

Mona shrugged. “I did no such thing. Besides, Barbara has moved past that.”

Just because Mama didn’t talk about The Incident , didn’t mean she was over it. She was southern. One didn’t air their dirty laundry in private. Let alone in public. Mona, on the other hand, didn’t have a problem dressing-down anyone in front of an audience. The bigger the scandal, the happier she seemed.

She had zero southern manners.

“We agreed. You owe me an apology. A public apology,” Mona continued, condemning me with every word and savoring every second.

“I hope you didn’t get your stone-heart set on that apology,” I said.

“You wouldn’t want to damage her reputation any more than you already have, would you, dear?”

Her arrogant tone choked me like a Texas heat wave in the middle of August. It took all the resolve I possessed to control my temper. “Get. Out.”

Tricia’s eyes widened in shock. “You can’t kick us out.” Her voice trembled.

“I just did.”

Mona’s eyebrow rose in warning. “You’ll regret this.”

Cold anger oozed through my body and settled in all the wrong places, making me say and do all the wrong things. Again. Some day I’d figure it out. But that wasn’t today. Mona had crossed the line.

“You’re a bitter selfish woman. I don’t cotton to threats against my family or my friends. The only thing I regret is that I didn’t take y’all down last night when I had the chance.”

Sometimes I find myself on the brink of trouble without trying. It was doubtful I’d “regret” ordering Mona and her lap dog, Tricia, out of Bow Wow. Although I had to admit, I hadn’t thought through what I’d meant by “take you down.” That was an unfortunate choice of words.

I’d like to report Mona and Tricia had immediately skedaddled, but that’s not how it played out. They’d split on their terms-right after Mona had received an “urgent” call from the pet psychic, Josephine “Jo” O’Malley.

My loyal customers had been all abuzz about how I’d stood up to Mona-half proud, the other half worried about the repercussions. Their concern was unexpected, touching and probably warranted.

God bless Darby, she’d had my back the whole time and stuck around until the last customers had toted their purchases out the door. Darby was top dog in my book.

It was three o’clock, and I was starving. I locked the shop to woof down a late lunch. I’d just swallowed a mouthful of turkey and avocado sandwich when Darby pounded on Bow Wow’s front door. I dropped my food on the counter and scrambled to let her in, my boots squeaking on the hardwood floor.

I swung the door open, and the salty ocean breeze rushed inside. “I wasn’t expecting to see you again.”

Darby swept past me, looking very Annie Leibovitz in her black button-up shirt and jeans.

“I’m not alone,” she said.

Sixty pounds of sleek muscle trailed behind her. Fluffy.

“Where in Sam Hill did she come from?” I choked out, shutting the door behind them.

Fluffy paused next to the Louis Vuitton dog carriers and shook. Stray fur and a handful of leaves landed on the throw rug. She blithely scanned the empty shop, nose and tail in the air.

That dog had more attitude than an Orange County teenager.

“I was propping my ‘I’m next door’ sign in the window, when Cliff’s Land Rover sped by. That’s when I noticed Fluffy.”

Unfortunately, this wasn’t the first time Cliff had ditched Fluffy at my boutique. A while back, he’d petitioned the court for a neutral meeting point, arguing Mona’s mansion was a hostile environment. The judge had decided that, for the welfare of the dog, the hand-over had to happen at a place familiar to Fluffy, but not at either residence. I don’t think the judge meant Bow Wow.

“Come here, girl,” I called out.

Fluffy’s dark almond-shaped eyes regarded me skeptically. The aloof expression she carried so effortlessly was firmly in place. With a shake of her head, she strutted to my office in the back. If history was an indicator, she was headed for Missy’s dog bed.

“Good thing Missy’s home.” Unsure of how the day’s events would unfold, I’d left her at the house where she could sleep in peace.

Darby and I plopped onto the stools behind the counter. She tossed her keys next to my water bottle and snagged a salt ‘n vinegar chip. She popped it in her mouth and immediately made a sour face. I slid the bag closer to her. The sound of our crunching chips filled the silence.

“I thought Cliff only had Fluffy on Wednesdays and every other weekend?” Darby asked. “It’s Monday.”

“That’s what I thought, too. Hey, about earlier. Mona got a little crazy. Are you okay?” I asked.

She shrugged. “I’m fine. What about you?” Concern shadowed her delicate features.