Chasing Stanley Page 7

  “I know, it’s just . . .” Her voice drifted off as she stared down at her feet.

  “Afraid kissing coupled with caffeine might drive us to do something crazy?” Jason joked.

  Delilah appeared not to have heard him. She’d stopped staring at her feet and had instead turned her attention to a man in a pin-striped suit walking a German shepherd. The guy was the size of a meat locker; he reminded Jason of one of those omnipresent bodyguards hip-hoppers seemed to surround themselves with. Jason watched as the shepherd squatted and did his business before master and dog began sauntering away.

  “Excuse me!” shouted Delilah. She sped toward the man and dog as if shot from a cannon. “Hey!” she yelled. The man stopped. So did Jason’s heart.

  “You’re supposed to clean up after your dog,” Delilah scolded him. “It’s a law.”

  The man stared down at her contemptuously. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” Delilah put her hands on her hips. “How would you like it if you stepped in dog shit and ruined those lovely shoes you’re wearing, because some schmuck like you didn’t clean up after his dog?”

  The man thrust his boulder-sized head forward. “Yo, what did you call me?” he asked as his dog began to growl.

  “Quiet!” Delilah barked at the dog. Shockingly, at least to Jason, the dog shut up. Delilah’s expression was angry as she continued looking up into the man’s face. “Please clean up after your dog.” Like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat, she made a poop bag appear from out of her fanny pack and held it out to him.

  The man sniggered. “I’m not cleanin’ up any shit.” His expression turned menacing as he took a step toward Delilah, towering over her.

  “C’mon, Stan.” Jason picked up Stanley’s leash and hustled over to Delilah and the Man Who Refused to Scoop Poop. Stanley let out a couple of barks and a low, long growl, something he rarely did. He knew this guy was a threat to Delilah. The sharp-dressed man took one look at Stanley and took a big step back.

  “What’s going on?” Jason demanded. He couldn’t believe Delilah had picked this guy for a civics lesson; he was three times her size and looked like the type who drop-kicked toddlers for fun.

  “What the hell kind of dog is that?” the man asked nervously.

  Jason yawned. “Newfoundland. Canadian attack dog.”

  “Keep that dog away from me, bro,” said the man.

  Jason glowered at him. “Then do as the lady asks.”

  Muttering curses, the man snatched the poop bag from Delilah’s hand and scooped up his dog’s mess.

  “Happy?” he jeered, though he continued to peer fearfully at Stanley.

  Delilah pointed to a nearby garbage can. “If you could throw it in there, that would be great.” The man begrudgingly obliged. “Thanks!” Delilah said brightly.

  “C’mon, Tyson.” The man snapped his shepherd’s leash. “Newfoundland,” Jason heard him murmur to himself as he hurriedly walked away. “Damn, I gotta get me one of those.”

  CHAPTER 05

  “ Can I ask you a question?”

  Jason could barely keep up with Delilah as she bounded out of the park. She seemed to be annoyed with him, which was completely mystifying since he’d just saved her from being a headline in tomorrow’s Post.

  “What?” Delilah’s voice was clipped.

  “Are you out of your goddamn mind?”

  She increased her pace. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I’m talking about that stupid display of bravado back there. In case you didn’t notice, that guy looked like he ate women your size for breakfast. What were you thinking?!”

  Delilah stopped short, forcing Jason and Stanley to do the same.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, okay?” Delilah’s big brown eyes smoldered with anger. “But I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I didn’t need you to come over there and act all macho.”

  “I was just trying to help!”

  “I didn’t need your help. I wasn’t afraid of him.”

  “Well, I was!” Jason retorted.

  Delilah frowned dismissively. “I deal with jerks like him all the time.”

  “Yeah? So how come you’re fearless when it comes to canine crusading, but when I ask you out for a simple cup of coffee, you get all twittery?”

  “I do not!”

  “Well, well, well. Speak of the Devil. I was just about to call your cell, baby bro.”

  Jason’s shoulders sank at the sound of Eric’s voice. It was just like his evil twin to show up at exactly the wrong moment.

  Jason tried to ignore the puckish look in his brother’s eye as he made introductions. “Delilah, I want you to meet my brother, Eric.”

  Delilah peered questioningly at Eric as she shook his hand. “You look really familiar to me.”

  “You’ve probably seen me around the neighborhood,” he explained. “I live right down the block from Mr. Cosmopolitan here.” He tilted his head toward Jason.

  Delilah no longer looked angry; she looked puzzled. “You never mentioned you had a brother,” she said to Jason.

  “You never mentioned you turned into Wonder Woman when total strangers don’t pick up after their dogs.”

  Eric looked amused. “Am I interrupting something here?”

  “Not at all,” Delilah assured him.

  “Yes,” said Jason, glaring at Eric. “We’re training Stanley,” he added lamely, hoping to appease Delilah.

  “Stan the Man.” Eric crouched down in front of Stanley, rubbing him vigorously behind his big, floppy ears. “Isn’t he the greatest?” he said, beaming up at Delilah.

  “He is,” Delilah agreed, clearly moved by Eric’s love of the dog.

  You SOB, thought Jason. Usually Eric treated Stanley as if he were the canine equivalent of the Elephant Man. But now that impressing a woman was involved, he suddenly acted like a charter member of the AKC. Jason wanted to throttle him.

  “Aren’t you late for your cross-dresser’s support meeting?” Jason asked his brother. “Or maybe you were calling me to come over because you forgot what a real hockey player looks like.”

  “Anytime I want to see a real hockey player, I just look in the mirror, asshole.” His gaze cut quickly to Delilah. “Sorry. Sometimes my brother’s immature behavior drives me to speak without thinking.”

  Delilah looked back and forth between the two men. “You both play hockey?”

  Jason nodded. “He plays for Jersey. You were looking for me because—?” He wanted to wrap this up. The longer they lingered, chitchatting with Eric, the greater the odds his brother would try to show him up in front of Delilah.

  “A bunch of us are going out tonight for some pizza and beer,” said Eric. “Thought you might want to come.”

  “Who’s going?” Jason asked. Eric rattled off a bunch of Jersey players, all of whom Jason had hung out with before. It was a no-brainer. “Sure. Okay.”

  “Wives and girlfriends are coming along, too.” Eric’s expression was gallant as he once again regarded Delilah. “Would you like to join us?”

  “No.”

  Eric seemed shocked at the rapidity of her response. “My treat, of course,” he continued.

  “Can’t.” Delilah’s eyes darted wildly as if looking for the nearest escape route. The canine crusader was gone, replaced by the twittery woman Jason was determined to coax out of her shell. He smiled to himself. Delilah’s blunt rejection of Eric rocked. That would teach the pathetic egomaniac not to stick his nose where it didn’t belong.

  Delilah pushed her hair off her face as her anxious gaze finally settled on Jason. “So, um, I have the spare key to your place and I’ll walk Stan tomorrow night between nine and ten.” She kissed Stanley on the top of the head. “Bye, boy. Don’t forget to practice with him this week,” she added for Jason’s benefit.

  “I won’t,” Jason assured her as she started away.

  “Nice meeting you,” Eric called after her.

  “Oh.�
�� Delilah jerked to a halt. “You, too.” For a split second she looked unsure of what to do. Then she hustled on.

  Jason stared down at the sidewalk with a heavy sigh. He knew Eric; the minute Delilah turned the corner, his brother would be on him like a puma on his prey, toying with him mercilessly until zeroing in for the kill.

  “Cute,” Eric murmured as she disappeared from view. “Very cute.”

  Jason snapped his head up, glaring. “What the hell was that about?”

  “What?”

  “Pretending you give a rat’s ass about Stanley! Asking her out!”

  Eric smirked. “What, that bothered you? I thought you didn’t have the hots for her.”

  “I don’t!”

  “My ass.”

  Jason began petting Stanley’s head, hoping the soothing, repetitive motion might help calm him down. “Just keep away from her, okay? She’s a nice girl, nothing like the trolls you usually hang out with.”

  “I wasn’t really interested in her,” Eric admitted with a yawn. “I was just trying to break your balls.”

  “What a guy.”

  “She smells a bit doggy, don’t you think? Has a touch of Eau de Damp Pooch about her.”

  “No, she doesn’t,” Jason replied, offended. Eric was nuts. Delilah smelled great. Then he realized: puma time. The tormenting had begun.

  “What were you two lovebirds quarreling about when I so rudely interrupted?”

  “Nothing,” Jason muttered.

  “Tell big brother,” Eric cajoled. “Maybe I can help. We both know I have lots more experience when it comes to the opposite sex.”

  Jason ignored the barb. “We were in the park, right? And this guy the size of a Hummer lets his dog take a crap and doesn’t clean it up. So what does Delilah do? She runs over there and reads him the riot act. This guy was totally menacing, okay? It looked like he was seconds away from just reaching out and crushing her windpipe, I’m not kidding. So Stan and I came to her rescue. But rather than being grateful, she was pissed! Care to explain that to me?”

  “Yo, Mr. I Have No Impulse Control, this is not Flasher, okay?” said Eric as he watched two giggly coeds in NYU sweatshirts bounce along the street. “New York women can take care of themselves. Delilah might be small, but she’s obviously got spunk.”

  “What am I supposed to do now?” Jason asked. “Apologize to her for being a nice guy?”

  “Absolute-a-mento. Chicks dig it when guys admit they’re wrong.” Eric put his arm around Jason’s shoulder. “Look, I know you like her. If she’s stupid enough to like you back, it can’t hurt to act all chastened and shit, like you really didn’t mean to offend her or overstep your bounds or whatever. She’ll be eating out of your hand.”

  Jason removed his brother’s arm. “You really need to cancel your subscription to Maxim, you know that? It’s starting to rot your brain.”

  “You asked me what you should do. I told you.”

  Jason grunted. He had no problem apologizing. He was willing to do whatever it took to restore himself to her good graces. He hated that she might think he was some kind of macho jerk.

  “I gotta get going,” he told Eric, prompted by Stanley’s newly persistent pawing, which meant only one thing: hunger. “What’s the drill tonight?”

  “I’ll swing by at around eight, and we’ll head down to McDougal’s to meet the rest of the guys.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “If I run into Delilah, do you want me to say anything on your behalf?”

  Jason scowled. “No. I can handle things on my own.”

  Eric snorted as he walked away. “Keep tellin’ yourself that.”

  “Your mother’s here.”

  The doorman’s voice was cheerful as it crackled over the intercom, a stark contrast to Delilah’s own mood. For weeks, Mitzi Gould had been hounding her daughter to get together, completely ignoring Delilah’s busy schedule. Finally, unable to take the endless dramatic messages left on her answering machine (“You have time to train dogs to sit, but you can’t make time for your own mother?” “You haven’t called in three days. I could be dead for all you know.”), Delilah broke down and invited her mother into the city for lunch. The closer the date drew near, the more tense Delilah grew. She hadn’t slept at all the night before, which meant only one thing: within five minutes of letting her mother in the door, she’d tell Delilah how awful she looked.

  “Send her up.”

  Maddening as Mitzi could be, Delilah was hopeful lunch would her take her mind off Jason. Did she really act “twittery” when he asked her out for coffee? She knew she’d hesitated a bit, but overall, she thought she was doing well. If they hadn’t been interrupted by that jerk who didn’t pick up after his dog, she probably would have gone for coffee with him. And Stan. No, not probably. She would have. Especially after that kiss.

  Running into his brother had thrown her a bit, too. Not only because Jason had never mentioned having a brother, but because Eric was so flirty with her, so fast. Delilah might be more attuned to animals than people, but even she could tell Eric was trying to get Jason’s goat by asking her to join them for pizza. She didn’t appreciate being a toy in the competition between the two.

  “Helloooo.” The voice on the other side of Delilah’s door was quiet yet imperious, the knock accompanying it coming later than Delilah expected. Her mother must have taken the stairs rather than the elevator in her never-ending quest to “burn extra calories”—as if she were even in need of such thing. Mitzi Gould weighed ninety pounds soaking wet, if that.

  Delilah took a good look around her apartment before opening the door. She’d dusted and vacuumed, transforming disarray into order as best she could, no easy task when you owned three dogs and boarded others. She’d gone out of her way to get all her mother’s favorite foods for lunch: bagels, lox, smoked whitefish, even herring in cream sauce, which Delilah found revolting. If her mother saw she’d made an effort to please, she might think twice about criticizing. The odds were slim, but it was worth a shot.

  Squaring her shoulders, Delilah finally opened the door. There stood her platinum-blonde mother in a full-length raincoat.

  “Hi, Mom.” Delilah leaned over to kiss the powdered cheek, having learned as a little girl never to kiss her on the mouth, since it might mess up her lipstick.

  “Hello.” Her mother stepped over the threshold. “You’ve put on weight.”

  “Thanks, Mom. Nice to see you, too.” Delilah glanced quickly at the window. “Why do you have that raincoat on? It’s not raining.”

  Her mother’s disdainful glance zeroed in on Delilah’s three dogs, all of whom were sleeping peacefully on the living room rug. They were so well-trained they didn’t even stir when someone entered the apartment. “I don’t want to go home covered in dog hair and drool.”

  “None of them drool,” Delilah felt compelled to point out.

  “Well, they shed,” her mother replied tersely. “I’m keeping the coat on.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  Delilah had sworn she wouldn’t let her mother rattle her. But less than two minutes into their lunch, Delilah was losing the battle. “How was the train?” Delilah asked in an effort to shift the topic from the dogs to her mother’s favorite subject: herself.

  Her mother clucked her tongue. “Eck, disgusting. I should have driven. I remember when the LIRR used to clean their carriages. Now they’re just petri dishes on wheels.” She peered into Delilah’s face. “You look terrible. Aren’t you sleeping?”

  “I had some trouble falling asleep last night.”

  “Poor baby. You should get a prescription for Ambien. Works like a charm.” Her mother seemed genuinely sympathetic as she reached out to cradle Delilah’s cheek. “You know, a little makeup would help cover up those dark circles under your eyes.”

  “It’s fine, Mom. Really.” Delilah signaled for her mother to follow her into the kitchen. “Come on. I’ve made lunch.” Her mother made a face as she sidestepped one of
Sherman’s squeaky toys.

  Delilah could feel her mother’s deliberate gaze scouring every surface as she put up the coffee and pulled the lunch items out of the fridge. If there was a flaw in the room, no matter how small, her mother would find it. Stomach in knots, Delilah awaited the inevitable critique, shocked when it was semi-positive.

  “You’ve done a nice job in here. I wouldn’t have painted the cabinets that light a shade of blue—in fact I think dusty rose might have worked better—but it’s your apartment. You have to do what works for you.”

  “Thank you.” Thrilled to have gotten off so lightly, Delilah gestured toward the kitchen table, where the food was now spread out. “See? I got all your favorites.”

  Her mother looked horrified. “Do you have any idea how fattening all that is?”

  “I thought you loved this stuff!”

  “That doesn’t mean I allow myself to eat it.”

  “Fine.” Annoyed, Delilah began loading food back into the refrigerator. “We’ll go out.”

  “No, no, don’t be silly,” her mother insisted. “Half a bagel won’t kill me. I guess.”

  Delilah rested her forehead against the refrigerator door. “Are you sure? Because if you’re going to sit here making comments, I’d rather go out.”

  “This is fine,” her mother assured her. “Wonderful.”

  “You’re sure.”

  “Put out the food, Delilah.”

  “If you say so.” Delilah began unloading the food.

  “So,” her mother began coyly, “have you talked to your father lately?”

  “Not lately.”

  “I heard he’s got some new little tootsie. I was wondering if you knew anything.”

  “No, but why should you care?”

  After twenty-eight years of acrimonious wedlock, her parents had finally divorced. The final straw had been her father’s supposed affair with his longtime secretary, Junie. Delilah believed him when he denied it, but not her mother.

  Her mother appeared insulted. “I don’t care,” she insisted. “I’m just curious.” She took the plates Delilah handed her. “Is he still schtupping Junie?”

  Delilah put the silverware in her hand down with a clatter. “I don’t know, Mom. Why don’t you call him yourself and ask him?”