Susan Donovan: Aint too proud to beg

You know, Rick, Josie repeated. Hes a groomer at this store? Light brown hair? She hoped these details might jog the girls memory.

Sorry, but theres no groomer here named Rick. In fact, the only groomers who work at this store are women. Did you want to make an appointment or something?

Josie shifted her weight from foot to foot, puzzling this out. Could she have imagined Rick? Had the lack of sleep that day, combined with that pornographic list, led to some kind of hallucination of wishful thinking? Had she imagined that whole conversation? Those emerald eyes and that luscious mouth? Her mother had always accused her of letting her imagination get the best of her. But not this time, Josie knew. No way. Rick was real.

Of course theres a man here by that name, she said with confidence. I met him. I spoke to him. He /touched/ me.

The girl slammed her book shut with annoyance. I dont think so.

Josie was becoming agitated. But he was here on opening day. I was one of the first ten dog owners to come in the store. I won a whole years worth of free grooming and he signed me up!

The girl pursed her lips, then said, I dont know what to tell you, lady.

Theres no groomer here named Rick. Besides, whats with your eyelids?

Josie gasped, touching her brow, cursing herself for not checking herself in the mirror before waltzing in here. Allergies, she said.

Right. So if you want to schedule a grooming appointment, great. If not, Im going to have to call security.

Josie sighed in exasperation, then leaned an elbow on the counter. Maybe she needed a new approach. Okay, heres the thingthis man was so sexy I had to change my underpants when I got home, all right? Green eyes so deep you could take a bath in them. Diana Ross eyelashes. And theres a really wicked tattoo running up the side of his neck and when I saw it my knees got so weak I thought Id fall down. And I dont even like tattoos.

Dude! The girl bolted ramrod straight in her chair. Ricks not a groomer!

No? Josie backed away, startled by the girls sudden zest.

No way. Rick Rousseau owns the place.

Huh?

Yeah. Rick Rousseau owns all fourteen Celestial Pet Superstores in Northern California. Hes the CEO! He always helps out in all the departments at a grand opening, and yeah, youre right, he was in here for a while that morning.

I had no idea, Josie mumbled. This definitely changed things. How do you spell that last name? Josie asked, pulling a note pad from her new bag.

You said he /touched/ you? The girl looked at Josie with newfound respect as she spelled it. Damn. I wish I were you.

Josie thanked her for her time. She used her car visor mirror to apply a dab of concealer to her eyelids. She located the Celestial Pet corporate offices on her GPS before either her nerve or her hairstyle could wilt.

She was about to pull out of her shopping center parking space when she heard a tapping on the drivers side window.

Josie? A mans pale blond head appeared at eye level. Wowyou look fabulous. Ive really missed you.

Josie sighed. It was Lloyd, the latest man to break up with her. It had been nearly three months, and she couldnt say that she missed him. She rarely even thought of him. In fact, the last time he crossed Josies mind was about a week ago when she found one of his CDs mixed in with her music stash. It was a Clay Aiken live bootleg recording.

She rolled down her window. Hey, Lloyd. Whats up?

His eyes looked her over hungrily. Have you done something different?

Your hair? Your weight? Your makeup?

Nope. Ive always looked exactly like this. Okay, it was probably impolite messing with his head like that, but so was the way he left her. She came home from work late one night and found a note that read, /Its just not working for me. Take care./ No further details. Josie was ashamed to admit it, but at the time she actually appreciated Lloyds correspondence, owing to the fact that the previous disappearing boyfriendthat would be Spikehadnt left a note of any kind. It was as if Spike had been sucked into another dimension, along with his toiletries and clothing. She never saw or spoke to Spike again. Later she heard hed moved to Los Angeles and was working at a Chuck E. Cheeses, so shed been dead-on correct about the other-dimension part.

What are you up to, Josie? Doing a little shopping on the /Herald/s dime? Lloyd laughed at his own unfunny joke, one of the things shed never liked about him.

I have every other Thursday afternoon off, remember? Because I go in every other Saturday morning, remember?

He nodded. Sure. Sure.

He didnt remember. A man had to care about the woman he lived with before he detected any kind of pattern in her work schedule. Well, I need to go, Lloyd. Nice seeing you.

Can you have lunch with me? My treat.

Josie shot him a look that said /hell no/ but her mouth said, Nows not a good time.

We had something special, Josie. I think about you a lot. His eyes continued to scan up and down her person. You sure you havent done something different? Because you look great. I mean, you always looked nice, but you look, you know, /a lot/ better. I hope you dont take that the wrong way.

Was that even possible? She shook her head and laughed. Okay, Lloyd, I confess. Youre right. Ive done something radically different. Im now choosy about the men I have lunch with. And the truth is, I wouldnt eat with you if I were a starving typhoon survivor and you were with the Red Cross.

She rolled up her window and put the car in reverse. She heard Lloyd cry out but she didnt catch what he said, and worried that she might have run over his foot.

Celestial Pet Superstores, Inc., was headquartered just outside Berkeley in a two-story office complex made of mirrored glass and shiny steel. A three-dimensional corporate logo hung over the entrance, big as a tractor-trailer. It was a globe orbited by cats, dogs, birds, fish, and small rodents that could have been either guinea pigs or gerbils, it was anybodys call. Josie entered, but before she could make it across the marble lobby, a security guard with a badge and gun headed her off. He inquired about her business.

Ive come to see Mr. Rousseau.

The guards bushy eyebrows knitted together. Do you have an appointment?

In a way.

He chuckled. What way would that be?

Umm… Josie began to question her plan. Maybe she should have just phoned. But you cant show off a kick-ass make over over the phone, now can you? Rick said hed call me, but never did.

The guard looked at her quizzically. So youre a stalker?

No, Im a reporter.

Wrong answer. He marched over to the security desk and dialed up the public relations department. He checked Josies press ID and her drivers license, made her sign a visitor log, clipped a temporary badge to the strap of her bag, and gave her directions.

She took the elevator but skipped the PR office entirely and headed toward a set of unmarked glass doors that screamed executive suite. The reception area inside was empty so she headed down an interior hallway.

A huge man nearly crashed into her.

May I help you? His eyes darted to her visitors badge.

Josie looked up, up, and up some more. Huge really didnt cover it. The guy was a giant. Close to seven feet tall. Blackest of black skin. Shiny bald head. A diamond stud the size of a blueberry in his right ear.

Rick Rousseau, please, she croaked.

The man stiffened, as though he were alarmed by her request. Im afraid hes unavailable. How did you get in here?

May I speak to his secretary?

That would be me.

She laughed. She didnt mean to be rude, and she knew it was well into the twenty-first century and there was no such thing as typical anymore, but shed never seen a secretary of his proportions. I just need a moment of his time, she said, composing herself.