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SIXTEEN
Lena left around six p.m. while Eden and Chandler hung around for a customer who was running late picking up his dog. Normally, they closed at five thirty, but Gary had called and begged her to stay open later for him and she’d acquiesced, not wanting the poor dog to sit in a cage at the salon all night.
“Want me to finish cleaning up in the back so we can go once this guy gets here?” Chandler asked.
“Sure. Thanks.” She grabbed a towel and disinfectant spray. “I’ll get the counters out here.”
He’d no more than disappeared into the back, though, when the salon phone rang. Eden thought about letting it go to voicemail, but since she was still here, and it might be the guy she was waiting on, she answered. “Perfect Paws Pet Grooming,” she said. “This is Eden speaking. How can I help you?”
“Yes, I need to bring in a dog tonight,” a man’s voice said, sounding hard and clipped.
“I’m afraid we’ve ended service for the night,” Eden replied. “But we open tomorrow morning at—”
“No, it has to be tonight,” the man said, cutting her off. “It’s an emergency.”
Eden frowned. “Emergency” wasn’t really something that came up especially often when it came to dog grooming. If the animal had gotten into something potentially dangerous, the owner would usually call a vet, not a groomer. She had gotten an emergency call once when a dog was supposed to be the ring bearer in a wedding and had run into a mud puddle, but this guy didn’t sound like an anxious groom. Mostly, he sounded like a jerk. “Did the dog get into something?” she asked, trying to think of what might constitute an emergency. “Paint, maybe? Or—”
“Yes, paint.”
“You should probably go to the vet first. There’s a chance of poi—”
“It’s fine,” the man said, cutting her off yet again. Eden was starting to get seriously irritated. “It’s…dog-safe paint.”
“Water-based?” Eden suggested.
“Yes,” the man said, sounding annoyed. “Water-based paint. He’s fine, he just needs to be cleaned up. Right away. I’m bringing him over now.”
“As I said, sir, we’re closing for the night. If you’re looking for a grooming business with later hours, I’m afraid there aren’t any places close by, but if you don’t mind driving over to—”
“No, I’m not interested in other options. I’m willing to pay extra to bring him to you. What’s the normal fee?” Eden quoted him a price fifteen percent higher than her usual rate. If he pressed her on it, she’d say it was the emergency fee. That sounded better than calling it the asshole tax. To her surprise, he didn’t cut her off or argue about the price. In fact, he offered to pay her even more if she’d stick around and take care of it that night.
“All right,” she said reluctantly. “But you’ll need to get here soon. I won’t wait all night.”
“Fine,” the man agreed curtly, then hung up. No thank you, no sorry for the inconvenience. Typical. She felt bad for the poor dog who was stuck with this guy.
Chandler poked his head out from the back room. “Did I just hear you agree to stick around for another client? I thought we were done for the day once the last dog got picked up.”
She sighed. “We were. But he said it’s an emergency and agreed to throw a lot of money at me.”
Chandler frowned. “Sounds sketchy,” he said. “He’s a stranger, right? Not one of your regular customers?”
“Definitely not a regular. But he’s just coming here to drop off his dog. That should be safe, right? I mean, you’ll be here the whole time. It’s not like he asked me to make a house call.”
Chandler’s frown didn’t go away, but he didn’t argue any further, he just returned to work cleaning up.
When the door chimed a few minutes later, she looked up and forced a smile, preparing herself to be polite to the jerk from the telephone call—but it wasn’t him. It was Gary, full of apologies, come to pick up the dog she had waiting for him. He also included a very nice tip. It was a shame the Telephone Jerk hadn’t been there to witness how someone was supposed to behave.
But Telephone Jerk wasn’t there. Five minutes passed. Ten. Still no Telephone Jerk. Picking up the phone, she punched the button to call back the most recent number.
“What?” he barked as he answered the phone.
“Hello, this is Perfect Paws Grooming Salon,” she said through gritted teeth. “You told me you’d have your dog here right away, but that was a quarter of an hour ago, and you still haven’t shown up.”
“I know, I know,” the man said. “I’m stuck in traffic, but I’m on my way. Give me ten more minutes.”
“Fine.” She sighed and checked her watch. It was six thirty now. “Ten more minutes, but then I’m leaving.”
Eden ended the call and finished tidying the front of the salon before heading into the back to check on Chandler. He’d made good progress on the floors, so she cleaned up her grooming table, gathering up the dirty towels to throw them in the washer. She got that going and decided to check up front again to see if the guy had arrived…but when she pushed on the door to the front, it stuck. Shit. Another repair she didn’t need right now.
