“Oh, no. Your mother would kill me.”
“She won’t mind.”
John heard the catch in Lexie’s voice and knelt down beside her. He felt his other engine die with the ground rushing up at him. He had to think up something fast before he crashed. “Yes, she will, but I’ll tell you what. I’ll buy you a turtle and you can keep him at my house, and every time you come over, you can play with him.”
With the dog curled up happily in her arms, Lexie leaned into John’s chest. “I do
n’t want a turtle. I want little Pongo.”
“Little Pongo? You can’t name him, Lexie. He’s not yours.”
Tears welled up in Lexie’s eyes and her chin trembled. “But I love him, and he loves me.”
“Wouldn’t you rather have a real dog? We can look at real dogs next weekend.”
She shook her head. “He is a real dog. He’s just really little. He doesn’t have a mommy, and if I leave him here, he’ll miss me really bad.” Her tears spilled over her bottom lashes and she sobbed, “Please, Daddy, let me keep Pongo.”
John’s heart collided with his ribs and surged up into his throat. He looked into his daughter’s pitifully sad face, and he crashed. He burned. No chance of a reprieve. He was a sucker. She’d called him “Daddy.” He reached for his wallet and surrendered his Visa to the happy saleslady.
“Okay,” he said, and put his arms around Lexie and pulled her closer. “But your mom is going to kill us.”
“Really? I can keep Pongo?”
“I guess so.”
Her tears increased and she buried her face in his neck. “You’re the best daddy in the whole world,” she wailed, and he felt moisture against his skin. “I’ll be a good girl forever and ever.” Her shoulders shook and the dog shook and John was afraid that he would start shaking, too. “I love you, Daddy,” she whispered.
If he didn’t do something quick, he’d start bawling like Lexie. He’d start bawling like a girl right there in front of the saleswoman. “I love you, too,” he said, then cleared his throat. “We better buy some food.”
“And you’ll probably need a crate,” the saleslady informed him as she took off with his credit card. “And since he has very little hair, a sweater, too.”
By the time John loaded Lexie and Pongo and the dog’s accoutrements into the Range Rover, he was almost a thousand dollars lighter. On the way across town toward Bellevue, Lexie chattered up a blue streak and sang lullabies to her dog. But the closer they got to her street, the quieter she became. When John pulled to a stop beside the curb, silence filled the car.
John helped Lexie out of the vehicle, and neither spoke as they headed up the sidewalk. They stopped beneath the porch light, both staring at the closed door, postponing the moment when they would have to face Georgeanne with the shivering rat in Lexie’s arms.
“She’s going to be real mad,” Lexie informed him barely above a whisper.
John felt her small hand grasp his. “Yep. Shit’s gonna hit the fan.”
Lexie didn’t correct his language. She just nodded and said, “Yep.”
You can have your career with the Chinooks, or you can have Georgeanne. You can’t have both. He almost laughed. Even if he were to suddenly fall madly in love with Georgeanne, he figured that after tonight, his career was as secure as Fort Knox.
The door opened and John’s prediction about the fan came to fruition. Georgeanne looked from John to Lexie, then to the shaking dog in Lexie’s arms. “What is that?”
Lexie kept quiet and let John do the talking. “Uh, we went into a pet store and-”
“Oh no!” Georgeanne wailed. “You took her to a pet store? She’s not allowed in pet stores. The last time she cried so hard she threw up.”
“Well, look on the bright side, she didn’t get sick this time.”
“Bright side?” She pointed to Lexie’s arms and shrieked, “Is that a dawg?”
“That’s what the saleslady said, but I’m still not convinced.”
“Take it back.”
“No, Mommy. Pongo’s mine.”