Dial C for Chihuahua (15 page)

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Authors: Waverly Curtis

BOOK: Dial C for Chihuahua
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Chapter 25
“What an old beater,” said Pepe. “I have seen better looking cars in the Tijuana wrecking yards.”
I came out of the bedroom, where I was getting dressed for my date with Felix.
“What are you talking about?” I asked, noticing that Pepe was standing on the back of the sofa. From that vantage point he could see out my front window.
“I am talking about this old Volvo wagon that is trying to park in the load zone in front of our
casa
,” Pepe told me, a tone of disdain in his voice. “It looks so bad, I do not think we would have taken it at Hugo's. They would have had to go next door to Soledad's Auto Wrecking to get rid of it—and even then, they would have been lucky to get a few pesos.”
“What do you know about wrecking yards in Tijuana?” I asked, walking over to the window to see what my dog was going on about. It was an old station wagon, with rust spots on some of the panels.
“It is where I worked as a junkyard dog,” said Pepe. “At Hugo's, to be specific.”
“
You?
A junkyard dog?”
“I know it is not glamorous, Geri, but you have to start somewhere.”
“I don't believe it.”
“
Sí.
It is true. I worked the night shift.”
“No.”
“As a matter of fact, it was the first time I wore a collar. It was black with spikes. I was very scary.”
“That is ridiculous. Pepe.”
“You doubt my veracity?” he said. “How else do you think I came to the attention of the
federales?
The rest, as they say, is history.”
“And was that before or after you were a bullfighter?” I asked, as sarcastically as possible.
“It was before,” he said. “I was at the bullfights, working undercover, while doing surveillance on Joaquin, head of the Guacamole Cartel. Somehow my cover was blown. Joaquin ran and I gave chase. I was close to apprehending him, but I tripped over a tray of half-eaten tamales, and that is how I fell into the bull ring.”
I laughed. “Pepe, I don't think I've ever heard anything so outlandish.”
“It
was
a most interesting chain of events,” he said, seeming utterly unfazed by my incredulity. He was about to go on, but the doorbell rang.
It was Felix. He looked very handsome in a crisp white cotton shirt, dark slacks, and a tie.
His eyes lit up when he saw me. “You look great!” he said.
I was wearing one of my favorite vintage dresses, navy blue with white polka dots. Combined with navy tights and navy high heels, I thought it made me look a bit like a thirties starlet. I did a quick turn, showing off the way the skirt twirled.
“Hey!” said Pepe. “Watch it!” He was right underfoot, and I had almost stepped on him.
“Oh, I'm sorry,” I said, picking him up and giving him a kiss on the head. I left a little lipstick mark between his ears.
“What's his name again?' asked Felix, putting out a hand to pet him.
“Pepe,” I said.
“Keep your hands off of her, buster!” said Pepe.
“Pepe!” I said again more sharply.
Pepe drew back his upper lip and growled. It was a small sound but plenty menacing.
Felix drew his hand back quickly. “These little dogs are very territorial,” he said to me. “They were bred that way. To be loyal companions.”
“Yes, he is,” I said, putting him down.
“Are you ready to go?” Felix asked.
“What about me?” asked Pepe. “You forgot to mention I am going along, too!”
“Oh, that's true,” I said. “Felix, is it OK if I bring him along?”
“Of course,” said Felix. “He can ride in the back. I've got it all set up for the dogs I transport.”
“I do not like that idea,” said Pepe. “I do not want to ride in the back. I want to ride up front with you.”
“Too bad,” I said.
“Why is that bad?” asked Felix.
“Oh, I wasn't talking to you.” I hastened to assure him. “I was talking to my dog. He wants to ride up front.”
“That's really not safe,” Felix said. “Especially for a little dog like this. If we were to come to a sudden stop, he could go flying right through the windshield.”
“See, Pepe!” I said, turning to him. “He's only thinking of your well-being.”
“I am not a little dog,” said Pepe.
“He thinks he's not a little dog,” I told Felix.
“That's so typical of this breed,” he replied.
I saw that Pepe was about to protest. “Let me get my jacket,” I said, “and we can go.”
“Typical, schmypical,” muttered Pepe, following me into the bedroom.
“Don't worry, Pepe,” I said. “I know you are anything but typical.”
I took my navy jacket out of the closet and held it in front of me. Then I looked over at Pepe. He shook his head no. “Too matchy,” he said.
“How about this one?” I asked, pulling out my gray wool coat. “
Sí,
” he said. “Much better.”
Felix was standing in the living room looking around when we came out of the bedroom. I tried to see the place as he might see it.
Everything was secondhand. I just can't pass up a bargain, plus I don't have a lot of money to spend and I like to rescue things, give them new life. My couch was from the forties, with big wide arms; I had reupholstered it in brown velvet. The dining room chairs did not match but they were all adorable. I liked to choose where to sit by how I felt each day. The draperies were vintage thirties prints, nubbly fabric splashed with tropical plants, all brown and moss green and peach pink. I had made a pillow out of a scrap of similar fabric and put it on the couch. I often found Pepe sleeping under it. The lamp on the end table was a favorite, a collectible from the seventies with an elongated neck made of swirls of pink and green glass.
I thought it looked stylish and quirky but maybe it just looked sad. I turned to him. “What do you think?”
“I really like your place,” he said. “It seems like everything has a story.”
“Yes,” I looked over at Pepe. “You could say that's the story of my life.”
Chapter 26
True to his word, Felix insisted on putting Pepe into the back of the Volvo, which was separated from the front of the car by a wire-mesh screen. Pepe made this as difficult as possible, scrambling to get away, then rushing for the door before Felix could slam it shut. Finally we got him in there but he set up a big ruckus. I don't know what it sounded like to Felix but to me it was a long monologue about the indignities of being treated like a mere dog and demanding his immediate release.
I tried to ignore him and talk to Felix, but it was difficult.
“How did you become a dog trainer?” I asked Felix.
“What are we having for Easter dinner?” asked Pepe.
“My family has been in the film business in L.A. for decades,” Felix said. “My grandfather was a gaffer. My brother is a cameraman. My mother does hair and make-up. They assumed I would go into the industry, too, but my real passion is animals. So I decided to learn how to train animals for film and TV.”
“You can make a career out of that?” I asked.
“Well, is it a secret?” asked Pepe, a little huffy.
“Yes, I made a good living at it for ten years,” Felix said.
I pulled the sun visor down on my side of the car and looked in its small makeup mirror. I pretended to be checking myself out, but I was really using the mirror to keep my eye on Pepe. He had his nose pressed against the mesh screen.
“So how did you end up here?” I asked Felix.
“Well, I fell in love with Seattle when I was up here on a film shoot. And a few years later, when I needed to get out of L.A., it seemed like a natural place to come. I was in need of a change of scenery.”
“I hope it is not chocolate bunny rabbits and colored eggs and candy. Some Peeps would be good, though.” Pepe was still muttering about food.
“Why did you leave L.A.?” I asked.
“Oh, it's a long story,” said Felix. He looked mournful. I was reminded of how Pepe looked when I asked him why he was no longer living with Caprice.
“What part of L.A. did he live in?” Pepe asked.
“Where did you live in L.A.?” I asked.
“Started out in the Valley,” he said. “But I ended up in Venice.” He looked over at me. “Does that mean anything to you?”
“Venice!” said Pepe with a little snort. “Not the best part of town. Now if he came from Palos Verdes Estates or Bel Air or Beverly Hills. Even Encino. That would be different.”
“I've never been to L.A.,” I said. “I don't know why I asked.” Though, of course, I did.
“Did you grow up in Seattle?”
“No!” I said. It was my turn to snort. “I grew up in a tiny town in eastern Washington. Half the town walked in the Fourth of July parade and the other half watched.”
“Fourth of July,” said Pepe. “Very scary! Bombs going off.”
“You didn't march in the parade?”
“No, I wasn't into band or baton twirling or anything that would have earned me a place in it.”
“So what were you passionate about when you were in high school?” Felix seemed genuinely interested in my life. That was new for me. I realized Pepe had never asked me anything about myself.
“I was an art nerd,” I said. “Always doodling in my notebooks. My big claim to fame was winning an art contest when I was in eighth grade.”
“It was
muy horrible
,” said Pepe. “All around me explosions, like guns and bombs and bright lights and things bursting into fire.”
Felix pulled off the freeway at the exit that led towards Issaquah. “Where do we go from here?” he asked.
“Take a left,” I said.
“I'd love to see your art work some time,” said Felix, as he turned and headed down the street.
“Oh sure,” said Pepe. “That is the oldest line in the book. Do not fall for that, Geri!”
“I don't do art much anymore,” I said. “But I suppose I can dig up something to show you.”
“I think I am going to be sick,” said Pepe.
“I'd like that,” Felix said.
Then he looked in the rearview mirror. “Your dog seems upset.”
“He really doesn't like it back there,” I said.
“It stinks!” said Pepe.
“And he's very vocal about it,” Felix said.
“Can you hear him?” I asked.
“Oh, yes, he's speaking quite clearly,” Felix said.
“Really? What is he saying?”
“Well, his ears laid back tell me that he's angry and his tail down tells me that he's scared. And the fact that his nose is smashed against the screen tells me that he wants to be up here with us.”
“He gets carsick,” I said.
“He definitely doesn't look well.” Felix took another look in the rearview mirror. “I think I'll pull over.”
Felix brought the Volvo to a stop at a nearby gas station. We got out and went back to check on Pepe. As Felix lifted the station wagon's rear hatch, he said, “You don't like cars very much, do you, boy?”
“I like cars very much,” said Pepe, “but not your stinky dogmobile!”
I picked him up and cradled him like a baby in one arm, stroking his tummy with the other. He wiggled his little feet in the air.
“He seems a little better now,” Felix said. “Does he act like that when he rides in your car?”
“To tell you the truth, I always let him ride shotgun with me. And he's perfectly well behaved. Do you think it's OK if we try that?”
“Sure,” said Felix. “But you know, I could also give you some tips to help him get used to traveling in the back of the car.”
“Yeah, nice try!” said Pepe.
“Be quiet!” I told him.
“What?” said Felix.
“I'm sorry, I meant it would be great if he was more quiet,” I explained. “If you can get him to do that, I would be
most
appreciative.”
“Nice try, Geri!” said Pepe, as we got back in the car. “But is that what you really want? Do you want really me to be quieter? Because I can be.”
“Sure,” I said, “go right ahead.”
Felix gave me another puzzled look.
“We're ready to go,” I said, hoping that would explain my comment, as I settled back, trying to arrange my shoulder harness around Pepe as best as I could. He seemed content and curled up on my lap. But he was only quiet for about three minutes. Then he poked his head up and asked, “What do you suppose your sister is serving for dinner, Geri?”
“I hope you like ham,” I said to Felix.
“
Sí,
ham!
Muy delicioso!
” said Pepe.

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