“Well, I have a lead on a gallery job for you too.”
I took a huge gulp of the sulfite-free wine.
“Well, I appreciate it. I binge-sent résumés to all of them, but I’m not even sure I want to work in a gallery again. For someone else, that is.”
“Then what would you want to do?”
A young, beautiful beaming couple next to us fed each other bites while laughing.
“Maybe be them?” I suggested.
Brady sighed. “That stuff fades. You need long term satisfaction.”
“I’d take a one night stand at this point.”
“Seriously, Page, what would your dream job be?”
“I honestly don’t know.” I looked up at the mast, the sail slightly fluttering. “Can I just be lost at sea?”
He sighed and took a sip from his glass.
“Look, I know you found your calling or whatever . . .”
“Page, running a restaurant is not my calling. A couple years and I’m out. I’ll be moving to some wide-open space. I don’t know, get chickens.”
“Chickens? Okay, if anything, you’ll always be able to make me omelets.”
“What about sales? You’re funny and endearing. You always have been.”
“Endearing? That’s more like you and Dad.”
“Listen, Page, it’s not the end of the world. You’re thirty-four, not seventy.”
The waiter came with “palate cleansers,” which he lowered in slow motion. Tiny blue bowls of shaved ice infused with fresh grapefruit and “ghost mint.”
“So it’s just the ghost of the mint, right?”
“Essence of mint,” Brady said, playing along.
“Whatever it is, it’s the best thing yet,” I said.
“The next course is a bowl of unicorn tears.”
I almost thought he was serious, but then he started giggling.
“This is a really good Malbec, though, eh?”
We clinked glasses, and then it was me who sighed.
“I like that dress, by the way,” Brady said.
“Well, I actually got invited to a dinner party by a friend from the dog park. Which is why I got it.”
“The dog park?”
“Yeah, remember? I told you about it. I’ve been going there every . . . a lot.”
“You don’t have a dog . . .”
“I’m aware.”
“Hmm. Okay. Well, it’s a good way to meet people, as long as they don’t think you’re stalking them.”
“Well, I am, a little, I guess.”
“Hey, why don’t you start a dog walking company? In the meantime, I mean.”
“Yeah, then maybe I’ll expand to a lemonade stand!”
“Just saying. Dog walkers can make bank . . .”
The evening continued as such, with Brady trying to be helpful and me getting more and more cynical as each highly manipulated food item was placed in front of us.
On the way home, I made him stop at Five Guys, where I wolfed down a greasy burger under the neon light of the sign. It tasted like heaven.
CHAPTER 7
DAY DRINKING AT THE DOG PARK
The next day, the EDP was packed with a lot of people and dogs I didn’t recognize, but the upside was that no one seemed to realize I was dog-less. I got some good squeeze time with a droopy-faced bullmastiff and threw a ball for a graceful Skye terrier.
Still no sign of Banana Republic.
I read more of my trashy novel until I heard someone clear his throat right near me. It was the large man with the golden retriever.
“Excuse me, I was just wondering. Do you have a dog?”
At that point, I didn’t really care what people thought. Surely there were weirder things to do than go to a dog park without a dog.
“I just like dogs, really. I don’t own one right now.”
“I knew it. One day I counted the number of dogs, and there was one extra person.” He said this like it was some huge revelation.
“Wow. You must have been on the math team.”
He chortled.
“This may sound strange as I don’t know you, but I’m looking for someone to walk my dog three times a week. Would you consider that? I could pay you, of course.”
I looked at his sad retriever, who was lying down in the dirt part of the park, licking himself in a half-ass way, like his paw was chewing gum that had long lost its flavor.
“Sure, I basically have no life right now, so why not.”
I handed him my phone with the notes app opened.
“Oh, excellent. Not about the having no life part!” He typed in his email, then handed me back my phone. We shook hands. “It’s Bond. Kevin Bond.” He smiled.
“Doesn’t really have the same ring to it, I’m afraid,” I said.
“I know, but it’s fun to say. If you wouldn’t mind, email me a reference or two?”
“Will do,” I said, unable to keep from smiling. As Kevin sauntered away, I thought, Maybe Brady was right. A dog-walking job just walked into my lap. Who would I give as a reference, though? I imagined my former boss, Liv, getting a call from Kevin, thinking it might be some sort of prank. I chuckled at the thought.
“Wait a second, you’re going to walk that dude’s dog?”
It was a young woman, around my age, maybe a little younger, with beautiful sun-kissed skin and a small Louis Vuitton bag, scooting closer on the circular bench. Her eye makeup was intense, and her teeth were perfect. In her lap was a tiny, white, fluffy cotton ball of a dog whose eyes were nowhere to be seen.
“I’ve done worse things,” I said.
“Ha. Me too,” she said, letting her dog down on the bench. “Go play, Beanu.”
The dog was not having it and just jumped back up on her lap. She grunted.
“Beanu?”
“Yeah. I just made it up. You like it?”
“Interesting.”
“She’s a teacup poodle. Three pounds.”
“Wow. Needs to lay off the carbs.”
“Yeah, maybe a juice cleanse?”
She smiled, but her face didn’t move that much. I wondered if it was filler. About a dozen silver bracelet bangles rattled as she fixed her hair. “I’m Nadine,” she said. “And I know you don’t have a dog. I’ve seen you here before. I’m cool with it. But I seriously think you should reconsider walking that guy’s dog.”
“He seemed harmless.”
“Don’t they all.”
“Think I can handle him?”
“I guess. But maybe don’t go in to his apartment.”
“That may be a challenge.”
She scooted a little closer, placing her manicured hand on my forearm.
“So I’m dating this guy, and my family, who are all kind of snobs, love him. Absolutely love him. Then with me he’s like, really emotionally abusive. One time he told me that if I died, no one would miss me, no one would care.”
“How touching.”
“Right? He’s just wicked salty. And he wears turtlenecks.”
“So why are you with him?”
“’Cause it’s familiar, I guess. My father wasn’t the warm and fuzzy type. And he’s pretty good in bed. Not my father!”