My Boyfriends' Dogs Read online

  We ruled out applying to Carly’s dad’s bank and continued up Main. The street jogged, then shot uphill to the highway. The town changed as sharply as the road curved. Behind us lay a tiny bridal shop, an ancient pharmacy, a photo shop, a used-book store, and a candy store. Ahead lay twenty-first-century America. Fast-food joints lined both sides of this stretch. Gas stations sprang up faster than a blinking stoplight.

  “Now this looks promising,” Went commented, “if a little crass.”

  “I heard that,” I said. “And second it.”

  We struck out in every fast-food joint, but not because of Went. He charmed each manager. But when they refused to re-hire me, Went told them we were a team. It was the same story everywhere we went. At Millet Markets, Went had the owner eating out of his hand. “More than anything, Mrs. Hales,” Went said, concluding his job pitch, “I really want to get to know the people of Millet. And what better way is there than working in the heart of the town, the center that meets people’s basic needs? ”

  “We could use a few more like you around here,” Mrs. Hales said.

  Went smiled over at me. “Great! Then you have room for my friend, too?”

  Mrs. Hales frowned at me so hard I took a step back. “Bailey?”

  “Afternoon, Mrs. Hales,” I chimed in, wishing I’d stayed outside with Adam.

  She turned back to Went. “You, yes. Bailey, no.”

  I understood. She liked me. She just hadn’t liked my bagging methods. I’d gotten so bored after a week bagging items exactly the same way that I mixed things up for fun—yellow with yellow, red with red. It wasn’t my fault strawberries and tomatoes had to go with canned tomatoes and red meat. “It’s okay, Went,” I whispered.

  “Mrs. Hales,” Went said, “if Bailey can’t work here, I can’t work here.”

  Without the slightest hesitation, Mrs. Hales said, “Nice meeting you, Went.”

  Outside, I kept apologizing, but Went laughed it off. Our last stop was Grady’s Gas and Snack. Halfway there a dachshund, Bertha, waddled out of a bush and ran to greet me. Adam tried to get between Bertha and me.

  “So you’re, like, the Pied Piper of Dogs? ” Went asked.

  “Something like that.” I sent Bertha on her way. But before we reached the top of the hill, two more dogs fell in behind me.

  Grady’s Gas and Snack looked like a million other quick stops—red awning over two rows of pumps, a handful of parking spaces out front, and a one-room snack shop inside. Sarah Jean Kinney was sitting behind the counter reading the Millet Messenger . She’d gone to school with my mom. If there were “good ol’ girls” the way there were “good ol’ boys,” Sarah Jean was one.

  She looked up at us, then folded her paper. “Well, look who we got here. How you doing, kiddo?”

  “Fine, Sarah Jean. How are you? How’s Rudy?” Her son, Rudy, was still in elementary school. He’d been born with some kind of syndrome that kept him from holding on to skills he learned. Everybody loved Rudy.

  “That boy’s got it into his head he wants a horse. It’s all he talks about.” As if she’d just noticed I wasn’t alone, she turned to Went. “Who’s your friend?”

  Went introduced himself and explained that he needed a job. “I guess I’d like to show my mother I’ve changed since she moved to St. Louis. Before I see her again—it’s been two years—I’d like to be able to tell her I have a good job.” He smiled at Sarah Jean. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone on like that. You’re just so easy to talk to.”

  By the time he was finished, I thought Sarah Jean might quit her own job just to make a place for Went at Grady’s. She promised to talk to the owner.

  When we left, I wasn’t sure what to say to Went. “Listen, I’m sorry about things with your mother. I’m sure she’ll be really happy to see you, no matter what.”

  His forehead wrinkled. “Are you talking about that job stuff? That I need a job to prove myself to Mom?” He laughed and put his arm around me. “Bailey, I just made that up. I saw Mom last week. We’re cool.” His arm tightened around my shoulder. “You’re pretty cute, you know that?”

  I wasn’t sure I understood what had just taken place in Grady’s, and I didn’t really care. Went’s arm was around me, he thought I was cute, and all was right with the world.

  6

  I had no idea what time it was when Went and I strolled up Ukulele Lane toward home. I’d lost track of time. Maybe there was no such thing as time on the other side of that universal line I’d crossed. To me, it felt like Went had been my boyfriend forever.

  “I thought you were kidding when you said you lived on Ukulele Lane,” Went said when we walked under the green street sign.

  “Didn’t you notice Guitar Drive and Harp Road when we crossed them? We’re a very musical neighborhood.”

  “I see that,” he agreed.

  Music blared from the corner house, where the four Johnson kids lived. I used to babysit for them, the worst job of my career. Our street was nothing to brag about. The houses were all small, like ours. Nobody paid much attention to lawns, not like they did in Amber’s neighborhood.

  “Ukulele Lane,” Went repeated for the fourth time. “So that makes you—” He cracked up, unable to finish the thought.

  I confirmed it. “Bailey Daley of Ukulele Lane. I know. I sound like a Dr. Seuss story. Amber says that with this name, I have to be a songwriter when I grow up.”

  “Or a stripper,” Went added helpfully.

  “I hadn’t thought of that.” But I liked thinking of Went thinking of Bailey Daley of Ukulele Lane as a potential stripper. What if my boyfriend was thinking of me as a sex object? Too cool. I could hardly wait to tell Amber.

  Mom’s van was parked in the driveway, and I spotted her inside it, wrestling with the garbage-pick table we’d scrounged that morning.

  For a second I wanted to keep on walking past our house. It was pretty early in our relationship to have Went meet my mother. But sooner or later, a boyfriend has to meet his girlfriend’s mother. “Hey, Mom,” I called, turning up the drive.

  “Bailey!” she cried from inside the van. “I need help. Hurry!”

  Went and I ran to the rescue. Mom was stuck between table legs, and the table was lodged in the van door. “Get me out of here, Bailey.” She tried to duck under the table, but even my tiny mother couldn’t fit.

  “How did you get in there?” I asked, thinking what goes in must come out.

  Went brushed me aside and put one foot inside the van, under the stuck table. Grabbing the tabletop in both hands, he said, “I’ll lift it, and you can duck out.”

  True to his word, my boyfriend lifted the table.

  Mom, in her bright-green-and-teal pantsuit, rolled under the table legs and out of the van. “I’m free!” she cried, lifting her arms to the heavens.

  “You okay, Mom?” I wondered how long she’d been caged by the table, but I didn’t ask.

  “More or less.” She leaned in and whispered, “So that’s Went.”

  “How did—?” Then I remembered Sarah Jean at Grady’s. “Man, news travels fast around here.”

  “Where do you want the table?” Went asked, backing out of the van.

  “I sure hope you didn’t scuff it,” Mom said.

  Went let go fast and stared at the table. “Wow. I’m sorry if I—”

  “She’s kidding, Went,” I explained. “Have you gotten a good look at that table? It’s all scuffs.”

  “Yeah,” Mom said. “How on earth did you manage to scuff up the whole thing in such a short time?”

  Went’s grin was a match for Mom’s. “It’s a family secret.” He stuck out his hand. “Went Smith.”

  Mom shook his hand. “I know.”

  “And you’re Bailey’s sister?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Sorry, Went. She gets that all the time.”

  “But it never gets old,” Mom admitted.

  “Apparently, neither do you.”

  Mom laughed. “Where did you find this
boy, Bailey? Honestly, my daughter has been bringing home strays her whole life.”

  As if on cue, Adam barked from inside the van.

  “Adam?” I ran to the little dog’s rescue. Somehow he must have jumped inside while we were rescuing Mom. I picked him up, and he licked me in great thanksgiving. “Poor baby,” I murmured. “Mom, this is Adam. I’ve known Adam longer than I’ve known Went.”

  “That long?” she quipped. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m starving. Went, would you like to stay for dinner? What do you think, Bailey? Pepperoni and extra cheese?”

  I could have hugged Mom for inviting my brand-new boyfriend to dinner. This is how it was meant to be. My boyfriend and I, my boyfriend’s dog, and my mom, all having dinner together. “What do you like on your pizza, Went?”

  His cell phone rang.

  “Fancy California boy,” Mom commented when Went pulled out a slimline iPhone with enough bells and whistles to launch satellites.

  My old-fashioned cell had three more weeks of probation remaining from the cruel and unusual punishment meted out by my equally old-fashioned mother, simply because the poor, hard-working cell phone had put in overtime—about one thousand minutes of overtime. Our phone bill, said my mother, the only witness and the hanging judge, equaled the national debt of half a dozen Third World countries. Man, I missed my phone.

  “Okay.” Went said this loud enough into the phone to bring me back to the present. “I said I’d be there. Yeah. . . . Soon as I can, Dad.” He slid it back into his pocket.

  Mom closed her eyes and touched her forehead like she was getting a vision. “Wait, wait. I see an angry father wondering where his wandering son is. I see two women—who look like sisters instead of mother and daughter—eating a whole pizza by themselves.” She opened her eyes.

  “Sorry. Dad wants us to have dinner together. Thanks for the pizza offer, though. And the séance.”

  “Anytime,” Mom said.

  “Want me to walk with you?” I volunteered. I couldn’t have cared less that his place was at least a mile away. I would gladly have forgone pizza and walked with him to the top of Mount Everest.

  “I think I better run,” he said.

  “Need a lift?” Mom asked.

  “Almost forgot.” Went rushed to the battered table. “Speaking of lifts, where can I put this? ”

  “We can get it, Went,” I assured him.

  “No problem.” He lifted that big table as if it were a surf-board. “Just show me where you want it.”

  Mom hopped to the driver’s side of the van and poked the garage door opener. The garage door lifted, revealing piles and piles of furniture.

  Went didn’t even make fun of the mess. He dashed straight for one of the few openings and set down the table. When he came out, he brushed his hands together. “If you want to refinish it, I’d be glad to help.”

  “You’re kidding,” Mom said. She turned to me. “Is he real, Bailey?”

  I nodded. “I’ll walk you to the corner.”

  “Bye, Mrs. Daley of Ukulele,” he called over his shoulder as we walked arm in arm, Adam tagging along behind us.

  “I’ll take you up on that refinishing offer!” Mom shouted after us.

  “She’s great,” Went observed.

  “All the Daley women are.”

  At the corner, Went stopped and turned to me, his green eyes intense. I knew it was time for him to go. It was only for the night. We’d see each other in school the next day. But I didn’t want him to leave.

  Adam sat down behind me. “I have a feeling you’ll have to carry Adam home.” I picked up the little dog, kissed his head, and held him out to Went.

  Instead of taking Adam from me, Went didn’t move. I pressed the dog to Went’s chest and smiled up at him. “Here you go.”

  “No,” Went said softly, “here you go.” He placed his hands on my shoulders and leaned down, Adam smushed between us.

  And he kissed me.

  The kiss couldn’t have lasted more than a second, but I could still feel his lips when he took Adam from me and stepped back. “See you tomorrow, Bailey Daley of Ukulele Lane.” He turned and ran, with Adam tucked under one arm like a football.

  I watched until I couldn’t see even the shadow of Went Smith. As I floated back down the street, I was shouting on the inside:

  I am sixteen, with extraordinarily large breasts, a fantastic bod, and hair to die for.

  I am sixteen, with extraordinarily large breasts, a fantastic bod, and hair to die for.

  I am sixteen, with extraordinarily large breasts, a fantastic bod, and hair to die for.

  And for the first time in my life, it felt true.

  7

  I got to school early the next day and waited outside for Went. Amber arrived, looking amazing in a pink-patterned top and orange cargos, tied together with this funky orange-and-pink belt. She waited with me for a few minutes. “Maybe he’s not coming.”

  I shook my head hard, discarding that outrageous impossibility. “He promised he’d see me at school. Went wouldn’t break a promise.”

  Amber frowned. “You did hear yourself, right?”

  I glared up at her. She didn’t understand because she didn’t have a boyfriend. “Maybe he’s already inside.”

  We walked to our lockers, and there was Went, talking to Carly by her locker. Carly gave me a prom-queen wave.

  Went turned around, beaming. “Bailey! Morning.” He came over to my locker. I messed up my combination because I couldn’t think with him standing over me, his breath on my neck. “How’s your mom?” he asked.

  “Good,” I answered. “Your dad?” I hated being so formal. It was as if the day before had never happened, as if I hadn’t crossed the line, as if there had been no kiss. Carly was calling him. I jerked open my locker, and three books fell out. Before I could get them, Went picked them up. I held out my hands, but he wouldn’t give me my books until I looked at him. “Save me a seat at lunch?” His green eyes were soft and deep.

  I nodded.

  He handed over my books, and the bell rang.

  I watched him walk up the hall with Carly. He stopped and said something to Meagan. He exchanged greetings with the Marlowe twins, gorgeous freshmen who could have passed for juniors.

  “Come on,” Amber said. “We’re going to be late.”

  We were in our back-row seats before either of us spoke again. “You know,” I began, trying to be reasonable, “it’s not Went’s fault if Carly flirts with him.”

  “That depends,” Amber said.

  “On what?” I snapped.

  Amber’s eyes grew big. She and I never argued about anything except music. “Never mind.”

  I didn’t see Went until lunch, when he was friendly and wonderful to both Amber and me. We’d all packed our lunches.

  “Where do you buy your clothes, Amber?” he asked. “They’re great.”

  “Thanks.” She bit into her sandwich. He waited for more, but she didn’t give it.

  I didn’t like that Amber was retreating again, so I jumped in. “Amber makes almost all her own clothes.”

  “You’re kidding.” Went opened his bag of chips.

  Amber nodded, but didn’t say anything.

  I changed the subject. “Where’s Adam? He didn’t attack me this morning. I missed that.”

  “Adam sends his greetings. He whimpered all night. I think he missed you.” Went set down his chips and touched my wrist. “I know I did.”

  Amber choked. “Sorry. Too much mustard. I’m having trouble swallowing it.”

  I kicked her under the table. “Do you have a yard for Adam?” I asked Went.

  “This whole dog thing isn’t working out that great. There’s no fenced-in yard. And Dad refuses to let the dog have the run of the house when we’re gone.”

  I pictured sweet Adam. I really liked the dog. After all, he was the one who had led me to Went. “So what did you do with him?”

  “Dad bought a kennel. It’s not ve
ry big, though.”

  “A cage?” Amber asked.

  Went shrugged. “I don’t like it either. I’m hoping Adam will sleep all day.”

  “Went, you can’t leave Adam caged up every day,” I said.

  “I can’t let him out. He’ll wander off.” Went crumpled the empty chips bag. “I don’t like it, but there’s nothing else to do with him, except kennel him all day.”

  I couldn’t stand it. “Adam could stay at our house.”

  “Bailey?” Amber said. “Your mom doesn’t even like dogs.”

  “She just says that.” Mom’s heart’s the size of Wyoming. She’d never turned away a single stray I’d brought home. Once, we had three cats, a really old and smelly dog, and a bird with a broken wing. “Mom will love Adam once she gets to know him.”

  “Are you serious? That would be great, Bailey.”

  My mind was spinning overtime. It would be great. I tried not to act too excited about the implications. “You could drop Adam off every morning,” I said. Which means we would have to walk to school together. “He’d be fine at my house all day while we’re in school.” And then you’ll have to come home with me to get your dog!

  “Sounds good,” Went agreed. “Check with your mom and let me know. Did I give you my cell phone number?”

  Yes! “I don’t think so,” I answered.

  Amber rolled her eyes. I would have kicked her, but she’d scooted out of range.

  Went wrote his phone number on his napkin and handed it to me.

  I folded it carefully. “I kind of lost my cell,” I explained. “I’ll find it in a couple of weeks. But my home number’s in the book. And if you don’t have a phone book yet, all Millet numbers are the same except for the last four digits, and my last four numbers are all fours. And seriously, don’t worry about Mom. She’ll love Adam like I do. So, bring your dog by tomorrow morning, and—”

  “My dog?” Went stuffed his trash into the brown bag. “Hey, if we share the work, we share the dog.”

  “You mean it?” I hadn’t had a dog since old Brownie died.

  Went grinned at me. “I mean it. From now on, Adam is our dog.”