A Dog Cupid Fiction Story
ALL THAT GLITTERS
A Dog Cupid Fiction Story
“Let’s see. That’s five days of house-sitting, feeding and walking the dog, plus getting the mail.” Mark peeled off a generous sheaf of bills from his gold-plated money clip and held it out. “This should do it. And this too for the tip.”
The eyes of the attractive woman before him were wide and staring. “I can’t take that tip! It’s almost as much as my wages, Mr. Sheraton.”
“I’ve asked you to call me Mark,” he reminded her with a smile. “And it’s not too much. My last house-sitter stole my spare watch, ignored my dog, and threw a party in my house. I haven’t had one problem since I’ve used your services. You’re a blessing, Jennifer. I’m grateful. So is Baron. I always have to work late Fridays, and you’re his favorite dog-walker.”
Jennifer grinned. “I’m his only dog-walker. But he’s my favorite, aren’t you, boy?”
Mark watched her hand stroke the glossy coat of his black Labrador retriever. Baron’s tail wagged against Jennifer’s skirt, fur and material swishing together in rhythm.
“Please, take the tip money. You earned it.”
Jennifer hesitated. “Actually, I’d rather have something else from you.”
Mark’s hand dropped to his side, bills still in hand. “Something else?”
“Yes. You see, I need some advice. Fashion advice.”
“Fashion…” His voice trailed off in disbelief. “But you look lovely!”
Jennifer laughed, a delightful sound that filled every corner of his spacious Manhattan penthouse. “Oh, really, Mr. Sheraton, you needn’t be so polite. I know I’m no prize.”
Mark did as she requested. He took in the riot of hair that flowed free down her back; the red curls tangled around a ridiculous pair of oversized parrot earrings. Her top matched the swirling skirt, a cotton tropical print, the colors as flamboyantly vivid as her hair. Beneath the shapely legs were a pair of bright green sandals that exactly matched the shade of her sparkling eyes.
You light up the room, Mark thought, but he couldn’t say that. He settled instead for, “You’re a very striking woman.”
She grimaced. “I stand out like a sore thumb. My boyfriend says I look a flower-power hippie from the 70s.”
“He doesn’t like your clothes?” Mark’s fingers tightened and crumpled the bills still in his hand. “Is that what this is about?”
“It’s not just that,” Jennifer quickly replied. “This is the city. Good jobs are as tough to find as good apartments. Don’t get me wrong, I love animals.” She patted Baron’s rump. “And house-sitting and dog-walking pays my bills, but not everyone’s as generous as you. I have my pre-vet degree, but I need a decent job if I’m to start vet school in the fall. I’ll never find one dressed like this.” She sighed. “Bill says I dress like a fifteen year old. Maybe he’s right.”
“So you want me to change your image?” Mark slowly asked. He didn’t like the sound of that.
Jennifer nodded. “If you wouldn’t mind giving me a few pointers. I mean, you’re sophisticated and very mature.”
Mark kept his temper under control. “I’m only seven years older than you–hardly in my dotage.”
“I know,” she said, giving him another lovely smile. “But I’m a lost cause when it comes to New York chic. While you–” She gestured to his understated tailored clothes, the expensive cut of his hair, and signet ring. “Would you help me?”
Mark hesitated, and he was a man who rarely hesitated at anything. “I never saw myself as Henry Higgins. And you’re certainly no Eliza Doolittle.”
“But I am!” Jennifer insisted. “Please, Mr. Sheraton. I don’t want to clean people’s bathrooms the rest of my life!”
“You clean houses, too?” His tone of voice was so shocked that Baron’s ears pricked.
Jennifer lifted her chin, not ashamed in the least. “It helps pay the rent.”
There was silence in the room. Then, “I’ll do it,” Mark decided. “But only if you take my tip.” She reluctantly took the now-crumpled money.
“Come by Saturday. Whenever you get here is fine. We’ll see what we can do.”
“Saturday? But don’t you have plans for the weekend? People to see?”
“If you’re worried about my social life, don’t. Baron and I usually hit Central Park for a good ramble.” An unpleasant thought came to him. “Unless this interferes with your social life.”
“Bill hasn’t asked me out lately.” Jennifer abruptly broke off. “Saturday is just fine. Thank you, Mr. Sheraton.”
“That’s Mark,” he insisted.
Jennifer nodded, but she still didn’t use his first name. “Call me if you change your mind.”
“I won’t,” he said firmly. He walked her to the elevator and watched until the doors closed. Baron whined.
“Don’t be a fool, boy. She doesn’t live here.” Baron whimpered again, and Mark absently fondled the black ears. “Besides, the weekend will be here before you know it.”
Those days seemed to drag on forever. But finally, his buzzer rang, the elevator doors opened, and Jennifer stepped foot inside his apartment again. Baron barked a greeting, then enthusiastically jumped up on Jennifer, his paws resting on the giraffes of her safari shorts.
“Hello, Jennifer. Baron, get down,” Mark ordered, reaching for Baron’s collar.
“Don’t scold him, he was only being friendly. Right, boy?” She gave them both her familiar brilliant smile. “I hope I’m not too early.”
“Oh, no. We’ve been waiting.”
Jennifer gave the dog one last pat. “Well, here I am, ready for my make-over.”
“Make-overs aren’t my specialty,” Mark replied. “But I have some ideas. There’s this outlet store that carries inexpensive designer knockoffs.”
“You’ll tell me what outfits are classy?”
“I can try. I know what my mother and sister like to wear.”
“Great!” Jennifer clapped her hands together. “I brought my charge card.”
Mark firmly ignored the Baron’s mournful expression as he and Jennifer left him behind, then stepped into the elevator. “Let’s go.”
The taxi ride seemed all too short with her at his side. Mark happily walked Jennifer toward the store. As always, the New York sidewalks were filled with bustling throngs of people. But Jennifer’s animated presence eclipsed them all.
“What kind of job are you looking for?” he asked.
“I have a minor in art history. A friend of mine told me about an opening coming up in the gallery where he works. I’d work days and take classes in the evenings.”
“A gallery. Hmmm. I’d suggest a classic look in muted colors—simple and subdued.”
Jennifer frowned. “That doesn’t sound like me.”
“No, but you need to blend into the background in an art gallery. You can’t detract from the exhibits.”
Her hand rose self-consciously to her head. “My hair,” she groaned. “I can’t very well shave it off.”
“Good heavens, no!” He was horrified at the thought. “Put it up in a French braid. I’ll give you the name of my sister’s hairdresser.”
“I’ll do it myself,” Jennifer decided. “How hard can it be?”
Mark hated that she had to pinch pennies. He remained silent and forced himself to keep from touching the bright red curls tumbling over her shoulders. He was never one to poach another man’s woman, yet it was proving to be exceedingly difficult to keep to that resolution. He tucked Jennifer’s arm inside hers, telling himself it was the polite thing to do in these crowds.
“We’re here,” he said lightly. “After you, madame.”
A few hours later they came out again, his arms filled with sacks of new purchases.
“Let me carry some,” Jennifer insisted. “I must have bought out half the store. You were right about those prices. They’re fantastic. So are the clothes.”
Mark smiled. “You’ll get hired in no time.”
“Only because you have good taste. I wouldn’t have looked twice at these. Not one bright color among them.”
“I’m sorry about that.” He really was. Out the dressing rooms, the stunning sophisticate in the designer cuts hadn’t seemed like the woman who didn’t mind dog hairs on her clothing.
Jennifer gave him a puzzled look. “Don’t be. I mean, it’s all window-dressing anyway, right? I’m not changing on the inside.”
“I hope not.”
Jennifer kindly patted his arm. “I know how to cheer you up. How does a hot dog and can of soda sound? I see a cart on the corner. My treat. I’ve worn you out.”
“That sounds great, and I’m not tired at all,” Mark insisted. “I’ve had marathon shopping sessions with my mother and sister. Dad refuses to go, but I don’t mind. It’s fun.” And it was even more fun with her.
“You’re a very nice person, Mark.”
Nice. That word rang in his head long after the cab dropped her off at her walk-up. Nice. The ultimate insult to any red-blooded male. He wasn’t handsome, or debonair, or charming, or intelligent, or–heaven forbid–sexy. He was nice. Mark was still trying to force that word out of his head when the following Friday rolled around.
Baron rose from his spot under the grand piano at the sound of the elevator, but Mark was even quicker. He beat the dog by a good ten feet to the front door, opened it, and let Jennifer into the penthouse.
“Jennifer?” Mark froze in his steps. “Is that you?”
“In the flesh.”
Mark blinked in surprise and stared at a vision of New York high fashion. Everything from the tip of her French-braided head to the grey pumps was sophistication personified.
She laughed her delightful laugh and pirouetted for his benefit. “Well, what do you think?”
“You’re certainly a fast study,” he said, not knowing exactly what to think. She looked like something out of Vogue, not the woman who petted his dog and brightened his home.
Jennifer took his remark as a compliment. “Thank-you, kind sir. I’ve worked hard at this facade.”
“I can tell. Are you ready for another shopping trip?”
“I am, but not today. I’m afraid I can’t stay.”
Mark hid his disappointment. “No?”
“No, but it’s good news. I’ve been called back for a second interview at the art gallery. I’m on my way there now. I just had to thank you first. If it wasn’t for your help, I wouldn’t have made it this far.”
“Don’t go yet.” Mark walked up to her, and gently touched the wooden parrot in one ear. “Better take these out first.”
“Oops!”
Jennifer’s fingers, complete with newly painted nails flew to her ears. In all the times he’d used Jennifer’s house-sitting services, he’d never seen with fancy nails.
“Those silly things. I forgot to change them.” She removed them and he held out his hand to hold them. “I have the ones I want to wear in my purse.” She slipped simple gold studs into her ear lobes. “There. How’s that?”
“It looks…” Like the last trace of the real Jennifer was gone. “Nice.” There was that word again. Well, she’d used it on him. He could use it on her.
Jennifer gave him an assessing luck. “I thought you’d be happy for me, Mr. Sheraton. If I get this job, I can start vet school this fall.”
“That’s Mark,” he automatically corrected. “And I am happy for you. But I–that is, Baron–will miss you when you’re off in class.”
“That’s not for months, yet. You’ll both see me next Friday,” Jennifer promised. “Fingers crossed.”
“I’m rooting for you.” He slipped the bright parrot earrings into his pocket, leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the lips. “That’s for luck.”
She blinked in surprise. “I–uh–have a taxi waiting. Bye.”
Mark punched the button that activated the elevator doors as Baron pushed past him to lick Jennifer’s hand.
“Get away, Baron.” She impatiently stepped away from the eager dog. “You’re shedding.”
The doors closed. Baron stared at Mark with sad eyes, and Mark withdrew the parrot earrings from his pocket.
“Don’t look at me like that. It wasn’t my idea to play Henry Higgins.” Mark angrily threw the earrings in the kitchen trash can. “She was never interested in us anyway.”
But much later, he carefully fished the parrots out and put them on his desk, knowing Friday would come again. And with it, Jennifer.
The elevator bell rang, signaling her entrance a week later. Baron refused to greet her. He had his pride, but Mark didn’t. The dog ignored the elevator doors, but Mark was waiting as she stepped out. The two entered his place.
“Jennifer!” He eagerly drank in her familiar face in the unfamiliar dressy clothes. “Did you get the job?”
“Well, no,” she answered, her smile as lovely as ever as they both sat down. “But they want me to interview at another branch next week. I’m so excited! Who would have thought a few new outfits could make such a difference? Why, even Bill–“
“What about him?” Mark’s voice was harsh, but Jennifer didn’t seem to notice.
“Bill’s fallen in love with me all over again! It’s like when we first met.” Her eyes were shining with happiness, her expression soft and tender. Mark, on the other hand, was in the grips of jealousy. With control acquired during hundreds of business deals, he appeared calm and collected on the outside. But not on the inside.
“How lucky for you both,” he managed to say. “Has he popped the big question yet?”
“He might. That’s why I’m here,” Jennifer breathlessly explained. “He wants to take me to the fanciest restaurant in Manhattan. Would you help me buy a new evening dress?”
“No way.”
Jennifer’s eyes opened wide. “Why not?”
“I won’t be part of this. You want to marry someone who only loves your clothes? What kind of man is that?”
Jennifer stared at him; lips parted wide with shock. “You didn’t mind when I dressed up for my job interviews.”
“You aren’t going to be spending the rest of your life with some employer! Wake up, Jennifer! Bill isn’t the man for you.”
“He is, too!”
Mark rose to his feet, as did she. “Then prove it. Put on those bright clothes you usually wear to this fancy place. Then see if he still proposes.”
“I will! And it won’t make any difference because he loves me!”
“I don’t believe that for one bit.”
“I’ll show you my engagement ring next Friday.” Jennifer’s face was pale as she added, “But that’s the last time I ever visit here. My life’s with Bill now.”
“Whatever.” Mark showed her out and savagely punched the elevator button. “Good-night, Jennifer.”
“Good-bye, Mr. Sheraton.”
This time, he didn’t bother to correct her.
The next Friday rolled around. Mark was miserable. Of course Bill would marry her. Any fool would marry a woman like Jennifer. No one was crazy enough to throw away happiness because of tie-dyed prints and beaded sandals. His only hope was that Jennifer had enough sense to call it off–or that Bill would take a long walk off a short pier.
Mark groaned aloud. He should never have sent her off to Bill. Instead, he should have thrown his arms around her and kissed her senseless. He should have told her he loved her. He didn’t care what she wore or how she looked, save for her lovely smile. More than once he’d picked up his cell phone and called her number, but each time he stopped short of punching in the last digit.
Baron stretched and yawned, then whimpered.
“She’s not coming until Friday, and I just walked you. So lay down and be quiet.”
The dog didn’t obey. Instead, he whimpered again and came to lay his head on Mark’s knee. Mark scratched his dog’s ears and patted the muscled neck.
“Thanks to me, boy, she’s off getting engaged to some idiot. He’ll probably make her straighten her hair and dye it blonde. Can you believe it? What a waste.” For both of us.
The doorman buzzed his speaker. Mark rose, cursing. He was in no mood for company until he heard it was Jennifer.
“Send her up.”
Jennifer had been crying. Mark’s chest wrenched at her red eyes.
“Well, you were right.” The cheerful colors of her rainbow print wrap-around clashed with her sad face. “Bill was all set to propose until he saw me like this.”
“He broke it off?” Please, please say he broke it off!
“Yes.”
“I’m so sorry.” I’m not sorry at all! Lucky me, the man’s an idiot!
“Bill said I was embarrassing him in public. Said I looked like someone he dragged off the street. That I was dressed for a fast-food place, not a high-class restaurant.”
Mark was incensed. If Bill was around, he’d cheerfully wring his neck, and let Baron gnaw on the remains down to the last bone. “He has nerve. And no class. None whatsoever.”
“That’s what he said. I have no class. Wouldn’t fit in with his lifestyle.” She wiped her eyes, pulling black streaks of mascara down her cheeks. She rarely wore mascara.
“Don’t you believe it! You’re a class act all the way. Bill’s the loser.”
“I guess I…kind of figured that out. But I really liked him.”
Liked. Not loved. That means she’ll get over it. He felt like doing cartwheels from joy.
“Any man who can’t see beyond some knockoffs and fancy makeup isn’t worth it.” He grabbed a tissue and gently wiped the black streaks off her cheeks.
“I know.” Jennifer sniffed, then bravely smiled. “But I’m not here to cry on your shoulder. I wanted to tell you I was hired for that job at that other gallery. I’m finally going to vet school!”
“Congratulations!”
“Thanks. I’m very excited.”
Baron rose from his spot under the piano and padded over to her chair. She dropped to her knees and gave the dog a big hug. Baron collapsed on the floor, all four legs waving in the air as he begged for a belly rub. She obliged; the wild print of her skirt outlined brightly against the lab’s black fur. Mark jealously wished he was as close to her as his dog was.
“I had to tell you the good news,” she said, keeping her eyes low. “Also, I’ll keep house-sitting and dog-walking, if you want.”
Mark’s heart gave a big leap in his chest, then he reeled it in. “Are you doing this for all your other customers?”
“No, just you. If Baron needs me, give me a call.”
Just us. No one else. Mark felt hope cast rainbow-colored hues in his heart. “I’ll take you back under two conditions.”
Confused, Jennifer tilted her head.
“One, you have to wear these again. Starting now.”
He passed her the parrot earrings.
“I wondered what happened to them.” She immediately exchanged the gold studs for the parrots.
“And two?”
Mark boldly reached for her hands and took them in his own. “I want us to be friends, not worker and boss.”
“Friends?” Jennifer echoed.
“You know, eat out together, take in a movie or two, walk the dog in the park, use each other’s first names…that kind of friend. But no pressure.” For now. Then soul mate and wife, if you’ll have me.
“Well, you can never have too many friends,” Jennifer replied in a shaky voice.
Mark pulled her to her feet. Baron softly woofed his approval and moved toward them. Mark gently touched the parrot in her right ear. The earring swayed, but Mark’s eyes were only on Jennifer.
“How about you and I go out for some hot pretzels? Baron, too. I’m buying.”
Jennifer gave him that lovely smile, the one he’d dreamed of night after night.
“I think I’d like that…Mark.”