The room erupted into chaos. People jumped up from their seats. They talked over each other, shocked, yet lapping up the juicy gossip of my behavior.
The dogs barked, Missy included. Canines turned on each other and their humans. Leashes wrapped around chairs, tables, and human legs, dragging everything behind them in their excitement.
“Don’t touch me,” Mona ordered to a handful of dimwits who thought they’d get into her good graces by mopping the wine from her dress.
I dropped to my knees to retrieve Missy’s crown.
“If you’d like to use the ladies room, I’d be happy to keep an eye on Fluffy,” Grey offered, his calm voice sounding out-of-place amidst the pandemonium.
I got to my feet, Missy’s leash in one hand her crown in the other.
Mona yanked the white cloth napkin Grey held out for her. She patted her dress as if taking a public wine bath was an everyday occurrence. “If you don’t leave now, I’ll call the police and have you arrested.” She quickly found her normal condescending voice.
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Are you kidding me? You deserved it. Everyone knows it.” I gestured toward the group of gawkers.
“Melinda, you’ve done enough.” Grey’s tone was tense and didn’t hold room for disagreement.
I whipped around. “You’re taking her side?” I felt like I’d been stabbed in the heart.
“No, I’m trying to keep you from going to jail,” he muttered.
I snagged my gold clutch from the table and shoved Missy’s crown on my head. Tears burned my eyes. “I’m sorry I’ve embarrassed you.”
I meant it. I was sorry. Of course, that didn’t change the fact that I’d just acted like an idiot. My snap judgment was in full throttle. Once in gear, it was difficult to apply the brakes.
He grabbed my arm and stopped my dramatic exit. “This isn’t about me.” He jerked his head toward the back of the room.
Caro looked like I’d just kicked her dog, Dogbert. Her face had turned the same color as the vintage red satin gown she wore. Her tightened lips formed a straight line and her snappy green eyes had narrowed into angry slits. Sam Gallanos, her date, stood silently at her side, his dark eyes studying me.
I’d forgotten all about Caro. I’d blindly embraced my anger and had completely lost sight of the fundraising goal for the Fur Ball.
Intense self-reproach latched onto my heart and squeezed. I wish I could say it was an unfamiliar feeling. But I couldn’t.
I guided Missy through the mayhem with only one purpose in mind-to confront the only thing standing between me and a hasty exit so I could berate my lack of judgment in private.
“I didn’t plan on making a scene,” I said to my cousin. It was as close to an apology as I could manage at the moment.
Caro eyed the crown. Then the brooch.
Anyone else would have looked away and ignored me, casting me to social purgatory. Instead, her eyes locked onto mine, and she said, “You never do, sugar.”
I couldn’t argue. I’d left her one hell of a mess to clean up.
“You’ll need to call Nigel,” Caro’s soft southern accent hung on the family lawyer’s name.
I covered the brooch protectively with my hand.
“Are you fixin’ to sue me, cousin?” I asked, unable to keep the Texas out of my voice.
She shook her head and looked at me like I’d hopped on the crazy train, which apparently I had.
“Geeze Louise, Mel. You just humiliated Mona in public. You know she won’t let you get away with it.”
Chapter Three
After my outrageous behavior last night (yes, I admit I behaved badly), my shop was
And on it went. My clients were addicted to their dogs (and gossip). It was obvious their lives revolved around their pooches and their accessories. I loved the business, but it was exhausting.
If someone with significant height on the society ladder showed an interest in an accessory, I suddenly couldn’t keep it in stock. Everyone wanted what someone else had. The Oprah effect for pampered pet bling.
“Melinda, do you have the Prada collar in cantaloupe? Orange makes Diesel sad,” a newer customer asked.
I glanced at Diesel, a deaf Dalmatian. He looked outlandish in his Swarovski crystal sport coat and star-shaped sunglasses. He sparkled, shimmered and reflected with every shake. Trust me, the orange leather studded collar was the least of his worries. Diesel and his human needed some beauty queen intervention.
“Sorry, no cantaloupe. Try this.” I grabbed a flat-gold leather Prada collar instead. “Gold makes everyone happy.”
“Perfect.” She clapped her hands in delight, then deftly fastened the collar around Diesel’s skinny neck. “I’ll take two.”
I smiled at her enthusiasm. “Great.”
The door opened, and Mona Michaels strolled inside. Dark sunglasses, cream Chanel pantsuit, and a cloud of expensive perfume. No Fluffy.
In the chaos of the day, I’d forgotten all about Mona and the inevitable wrath I’d experience. Caro had hit it on the nose; Mona would extract revenge.
Tricia Edwards, Mona’s best friend and business partner, followed behind, carrying a sample case. The two were thick as fleas on a coonhound and just as irritating.
Tricia designed dog wear, but didn’t own a dog because they were messy. (That didn’t make sense to me, either.) Mona was the money behind Tricia’s label. The two had been badgering me for months to carry Tricia’s couture dog dresses. I’d finally agreed to meet with them next week to look at the inventory. I wasn’t holding out much hope.
“Melinda, I have a new selection of samples for you.” Tricia’s frosty voice cut through the fevered shopping chatter.
“Bring them to the meeting next week,” I said without giving either of them my full attention.
I gently wrapped Diesel’s second collar and rang up the sale. I slipped a couple of dog treats in the bag before handing it over. “I hope Diesel enjoys his new bling.”
His owner smiled broadly. “We will. Thanks. You’re still coming to Diesel’s Bark-mitzvah, right?”
“Absolutely. I wouldn’t miss it,” I promised.
“I’ll see you then.” Her smile faltered slightly as she brushed past Tricia and Mona.
“Mona’s unexpectedly free today,” Tricia pressed, setting her case on the counter. “You’re going to love them.” Her pushy excitement rang hollow in my ears.
“I’m swamped. Next week.”
I grabbed a box from behind the counter and headed for the front display case. I pulled out a handful of pink Juicy Couture collars with rhinestone charms from the packing material and restocked the shelves, keeping my back to the self-appointed mayors of Laguna Beach.
“Melinda, what are you wearing?” Mona’s haughty voice hung in the air like a guilty verdict thrust on an innocent man.
I took inventory of my typical work outfit. Black leather vest over my “Paws off!” t-shirt, motorcycle boots and, my most recent splurge, a pair of True Religion jeans. Even my hair was pulled back into a long sleek ponytail and out of my face.
“You have something against Yorkies?” I asked as I turned around.
“You’ve embroidered them on your…” Mona waved her sunglasses at my butt.
