Don’t Have a Dog in This Fight
Addison stood on a gum-speckled sidewalk on the edges of the Mission District double-checking the address on her golden ticket one more time. She held Felix’s card under a flickering streetlight to read the address. It was far from the glorious Chocolate Factory, but she was in the right place. When she crossed the street, she could read the faded sign at the top of the building that assured her she was at JOE’S DIVE.
She approached the heavy oak door and peered through the cracked stained-glass window next to it. It was only nine o’clock, but the lights inside the bar were so dim, she wondered if it had already closed and someone just forgot to turn off the flickering OPEN sign in the window. However, when she tried the grimy brass door handle and stepped inside, it was open, just sparsely populated with the Sunday-night faithfuls. And one quick scan of her surroundings told Addison that Joe couldn’t have chosen a better name for the place.
Addison hesitated in the entrance to let her eyes adjust to the weak glow of the filthy pendant lights dangling from the exposed ceiling. Dark leather booths hid the odd lone drinker and a young couple canoodling in the far corner.
The place could have passed for a chic industrial theme with very little effort, but Addison didn’t think Joe’d had a particular décor in mind when he chose the mismatched wooden chairs and metal tables.
Addison’s shifting eyes found the bar at the back of the room where a shelf lined with spirits stood behind it, along with Felix. His black button-up shirt collar gaped open to reveal a Rolling Stones T-shirt as he leaned across the bar to talk to a brunette in painted-on jeans. His thick black curls shone beneath the pendant lights and his white teeth flashed with a flirty smile.
The girl shifted beneath the light, and her cheap-looking red bra peeked out of her low-backed top. It was the server he’d been flirting with the night before at the cocktail mixer.
Felix hadn’t seen Addison come in yet. She was tempted to stand there and watch him for a while, to observe him in his own element, to study the man who supposedly “sees all.” To discover what made him tick. But as he laughed again at something Red Bra said, Addison found herself marching up to the bar.
She dropped her purse on the counter with a thud to catch his attention and instantly regretted it—the thick oak slab was sticky from a spilled drink.
Felix pulled away from Red Bra and sauntered over to Addison. He did a double take when he recognized her. Or maybe it was the low-cut hot-pink halter top she’d slipped on that night—and not by accident. She needed all the help she could get convincing Felix to join her cause. It was a graceless tactic, but Felix didn’t strike her as the highbrow type. Besides, desperate times called for desperate measures.
He ran a hungry tongue across his bottom lip like an animal on the hunt. Halter top one, Felix zero. “Just couldn’t resist me, could you?” he asked her.
I might be desperate, but not that desperate, she thought. “You’re not as charming as you like to think, you know.”
“You’re here, aren’t you?”
“Okay, you caught me.” She batted her eyelashes, just in case the halter top wasn’t enough. “Actually, there is something you’ve got that I want.”
“There is? Well, I aim to please.” He pushed his sleeves up and leaned his elbows on the bar. “Tell me. What is it that I can give you?” he said, lacing each word with meaning, or maybe a promise.
The deep hum of his voice washed over her, settling inside of her like a warmth, deep and low in her belly. She cleared her throat, ignoring the effect he had on her.
“I want information.”
“Well I’m thirty-one, I like sports—the 49ers are my favorite team—I love music. The classics, mostly. You know, Rolling Stones, Zeppelin, Journey. Oh, and don’t forget banana pancakes with caramel chocolate chips after a sleep-in on Sundays.”
“Caramel chocolate chips?”
“I have a sweet tooth. Not that I’m not sweet enough already.” He flashed that charming smile at her and Addison took it back; he was as charming as he thought he was—not that she’d ever tell him that.
She felt the surge rush over her again, this time very specifically beneath her miniskirt. His gaze drew her in, like a storewide sale on the last ticketed price. Ahhh.
Men like Felix were dangerous. Men who knew the power they had over women. At the cocktail mixer he told her she was a target for men to take advantage of her. Well, if anyone knew how to read her and play her, it was going to be Felix. And when men knew how to use their power, it was usually because they exerted it often. Felix was bad news.
She shook her head, hoping to bring some of that blood flow back north of her waistline. “No. Not that kind of information.”
“Well, we can get a little more personal, if you like. But you’ll have to buy me dinner first.”
Bad news, bad news, bad news, she repeated in her head. She crossed her legs, clamping them tight together. “No. I mean information about the other night at the cocktail mixer. You said you do the dog show circuit often.”
The sudden change in direction put a furrow between his brows. “Every year for the last five,” he said, after a moment.
“You know the contestants, the owners, the judges, the ins and outs of the competition.”
“It’s like having a backstage pass.” He smiled, clearly happy she’d taken an interest in what he had to say the night before.
“So you know the owners of the missing dogs?”
“Sure. I know of them.”
“And their dogs?”
“Sure.” His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Mostly.”
Addison leaned in closer. “Even potential suspects?”
Understanding dawned on his face. “Now, hold on a minute.” He held up a hand, pulling away from the bar, but she leaned even closer.
“You would know who was there last night, both contestants and the staff.”
“Yes, but—”
“And anyone else with a vendetta against the past dog show winners. Maybe someone with a grudge, or who runs an underground puppy mill. Or maybe someone who has a debt to the mob and their only way to pay it off is by selling show dogs. On the black dog market.”
His expression screwed up with the tumult of ideas. “Black dog market? You’ve been watching too many mobster movies.”
Addison ignored the jibe. She was onto something. She could feel it. “Or maybe it’s someone who hates what dog shows stand for and they wanted to set them all free as a statement.”
Felix reached across the sticky bar and shook Addison’s shoulders to get her attention. “Whoa, Nancy Drew. You’re getting a little ahead of yourself, aren’t you?”
Her starry eyes focused again, and she returned to reality. “You’re right. Sorry.” She waved off the excitement. “You’re the expert here. Where do you think we should begin?”
“How about with a cocktail?”
“Like as in the cocktail waitresses? You think it was one of the staff who took the dogs?” Her eyes shifted around the room. Secretly she hoped Red Bra was the criminal. At the very least, her fashion sense should have been considered a crime.
“No.” Felix slammed a glass down in front of Addison, making her jump. “Cocktail. As in alcohol. This is a bar, sweetheart, and if you haven’t noticed, I’m a bartender. Last time I checked that meant I serve drinks. I don’t solve crimes.”
He turned his back to her and picked out a few bottles of alcohol and mixers seemingly at random. As he began to slosh them into a battered old cocktail shaker, she reached into her purse and drew out his card.
She slapped it down on the bar, pointing at it like an accusation. “But you said if I ever needed anything—”
“Yeah, like a drink,” he said, pouring the mystery contents into her glass. It came out in a shock of pink, like a glass of blended flamingos.
She narrowed her eyes at it. “What’s this?”
“A consolation prize.” He pushed it toward her.
“So you’re not going to help me?”
“I am helping,” he said. “I’m a very helpful guy. But I’ve got other customers I need to help right now.” Reaching under the bar, he produced a pink umbrella and plunked it in her martini glass. “Enjoy.”
Addison’s shoulders slumped as Felix turned to a middle-aged man wearing a plaid shirt. However, Addison wasn’t giving up that easily. It wasn’t like he gave her a firm “no.” Not exactly. There was still room for argument. Besides, without Felix and his Intel, her next best strategy was to hang posters around the city asking, HAVE YOU SEEN THIS DOG? Not exactly an investigation worthy of Sherlock Holmes.
Settling onto the bar stool, she eyed the drink in front of her suspiciously, wondering if he’d go so far as to poison her just to get rid of her. Not likely, she finally decided, then took a sip. Her taste buds sang with pleasure. It was like a liquefied tropical island, flamingos and all.
Addison took another sip as she waited for Felix to finish serving the lumberjack, but then another customer ordered a round of shots. Shots? Who drank shots on a Sunday night? But man, was her drink ever good. There couldn’t be much alcohol in it, if any, she told herself. It practically tasted like juice.
After the minutes ticked by and more orders rolled in, she figured one more drink couldn’t hurt, right? She’d had a rough week, after all.
At the cocktail mixer, Felix had looked smooth, polished, a man who could serve gentlemen with numbers at the end of their names—that is, until he’d opened his mouth. But he also seemed to fit in at this rough dive. The man was like Johnny Depp, a chameleon of roles. Here in the little hole in the wall, he was at ease. In fact, he seemed to thrive, a prince among thieves.
Finally, Felix finished serving an elderly woman a brandy and grabbed a cloth. He started to wipe down the counter, even though he’d barely let a drop hit the surface with his practiced hands.
Addison stared at those hands, wondering what else they were practiced at—not that she cared. She shook the thought right out of her head. She was still hoping to receive a call from Phillip Montgomery III. Okay, who was she kidding? After what happened at the cocktail mixer, she’d probably never see him again.
When Felix continued to ignore her, she switched bar stools to sit closer to where he was pretending to look busy. “Look, Felix. You said so yourself, you’re in the perfect position to people-watch, to understand what makes them click.”
“Tick,” he corrected her with a smirk.
“Tick,” she agreed, chasing her straw around with her tongue before catching it to take a sip.
“There’s a reason people trust me,” Felix said. “It’s because I can keep my mouth shut. I certainly don’t start investigations on them.”
“No, no, no.” She wagged her finger. “Not investigate. This is just a friendly chat. Between two professionals.” She indicated him and herself, nearly knocking her drink over. “This is just business.”
“And why would I want to talk to you?”
Addison flinched like he’d insulted her. Why wouldn’t he want to talk to me? And why do I want him to want to talk to me? Now she wasn’t even making sense to herself. She pushed the drink away, focusing her thoughts.
“Because it’s about one professional helping another professional. You know, helping? Caring? Because these poor dogs need our help? What have you got to lose?”
“My job,” he said flatly.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean these rich snooty types live some interesting lives, lives they want to keep secret.” He widened his eyes, and she wondered just what kind of secrets they kept. “If people suspect that I’m sneaking around and spying on them at functions, I won’t get any more private gigs. Not to mention my boss, Joe, won’t be too happy about the complaints. He’s not exactly the forgiving type.”
“Okay, fine. Mum’s the word. I get it.” She pretended to zip her lips. “How about I just talk and you listen. If I start to get close to guessing the truth, all you have to do is wink. Like this.” She gave a slow wink, as though he needed a demonstration.
His stare remained even. “The answer is no.”
“Good, good. Play along. That’s good.” She gave him a thumbs-up. “Okay, here we go. Do the missing dogs have something to do with the mob?”
She watched his eyes very carefully. His left eye moved, and for a second she thought it was a wink, but maybe it was more of an annoyed twitch.
“Okay, that’s not it. Onto the next question.”
He sighed and yelled out, “Last call!” making her jump.
Felix turned to move away from her. She opened her mouth to argue, but she was interrupted by the sharp clink of a glass on the counter in front of her. She looked down to find another tropical island sitting before her like a mirage.
Well, she figured, she wasn’t leaving until she got the answers she was looking for, so one more couldn’t hurt.
Imbibing the nectar of the gods, Addison watched Felix tidy up the bar. Every time he got a break between customers or cleaning, she tried once again to convince him. But every time she did, she found a fresh drink in front of her. Probably because she couldn’t argue if her mouth was busy. Little did he know, she thought.
Addison was sticking another umbrella into her updo when the pendant lights above her shut off. She glanced around to discover she was the last customer in the bar. In fact, she and Felix were the last two people in the whole place.
There were noises coming from the adjacent room where she could see pool tables through the doorway. Sliding off the stool, she followed the sharp sounds of billiard balls cracking together and found Felix tidying up.
Startled, he glanced up to see her standing in the doorway.
“You’re still here,” he said.
“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” Addison said, leaning against one of the tables. “I haven’t gotten what I wanted yet.”
“You’re a persistent little thing, aren’t you?” He finished organizing the pool cues into their wall holders before shutting off the lights.
The bar was thrown into darkness, the only light filtering in through the dirty windows and cracked stained-glass accents. Streetlights glowed green and purple through images of grapes on vines, coloring Felix’s tanned skin.
She followed his slow movements across the pool hall, slinking with that same animal allure that she’d seen in him earlier. A predator looking for the kill. No prey had ever been so eager to be caught.
Felix stopped in front of her and reached up. She thought he was going to touch her face, but then he plucked an umbrella out of her hair with a smirk. When a disappointed sigh escaped, she realized how badly she’d wanted him to touch her.
“What about me?” he asked. “If I’m putting my job on the line, what do I get out of this deal?”
“The satisfaction of knowing you helped save seven poor, defenseless dogs?”
“Not quite what I was thinking.” She saw his bright teeth flash in the dark room, like a panther baring its fangs.
She couldn’t help the pant that escaped her. Her body tensed, her senses heightened, as though waiting for him to pounce. Heat radiated off him, or maybe she imagined it. When did he get so near, she wondered.
“What did you have in mind?” she asked.
“I’ll help you,” he said. “I’ll give you some leads … In exchange.”
“Exchange for what?”
“A date with you.”
Addison inhaled sharply, wondering if the drinks were making her foggy, or if it was Felix’s nearness, the spice of his cologne, the way his eyes were holding hers.
“What makes you think I’d go on a date with you?”
“You’re here aren’t you?” he said, with a cocky tilt to his head.
“Only because I need your help.”
“You know what I think?” he asked, closing the last few inches between them. “I think it’s more than that. I think it’s an excuse to come around and see me. I think you’re interested and just won’t admit it.” The umbrella twirled between his fingers and he brushed the crepe paper against her neck, down the low neckline of her halter top.
She snorted, backing away, but her butt hit the pool table. “Delusional much?”
“Curious much?” he retorted, moving closer.
“What would I be curious about?”
“What it would be like to kiss me.” His voice was filled with confidence, making Addison second-guess herself that he wasn’t the Prince Charming she was looking for.
She scoffed, but her eyes automatically dropped to his lips.
He placed his hands on the pool table on either side of her, trapping his prey. “To feel my lips against yours.”
“Ha.” She turned her face away from him, but couldn’t find the words to deny it as he brought his face to her neck. His wavy hair brushed her face, his breath tickled her skin, and his lips hovered over her, not yet touching, maybe waiting for her to give in.
“You’re curious to feel what it’s like to run your fingers through my hair, to press your body against mine.” His lips finally grazed her neck, as light as a flicker of eyelashes. Her breath left her in a moan that startled her.
“Too close,” she said. “Too close.”
Felix froze, not coming any closer, but not pulling away. Although she couldn’t see his face, she could sense him smile. “Then push me away.”
Addison brought her hands up, but instead of shoving him away, those curious fingers of hers wove into his thick locks, dragging his face down to hers.
Like a panther pouncing, he finally made his move. He met her hungry need to taste him with his own animal hunger, his tongue finding hers over and over again.
His hot hands ran down her halter top and skirt, cupping her butt. As easily as he’d lifted the stools onto the bar, he set her on the edge of the pool table. Now they were at an even height so he could kiss behind her ears, along her neck, down her plunging neckline.
Felix settled there a moment, enjoying his face pressed against her breasts. He pushed his hips between her legs, parting her thighs, hiking up her skirt. It sat around her waist as he pressed himself against her pink lace booty shorts.
Addison’s toes curled as his lips found that perfect spot beneath her ear. She couldn’t take it anymore. Gripping his shirt, she yanked him closer. Felix didn’t need any more encouragement. He hopped onto the pool table.
He laid her down against the green cloth and hard balls dug into her back. She quickly rolled them aside before gripping his shirt and dragging him down on top of her. Then he settled between her legs, and she could feel something else just as hard press against her. But it wasn’t the pool balls.
Her moan was cut off as his mouth found hers again. This time their hands ran over each other with a new purpose, greedily, over clothes and under them, tugging impatiently at fabric.
Addison’s head swam with a storm of sensations surging through her body. She’d never felt such a pull toward anyone. Maybe it was because she’d told herself she wasn’t going to let herself have Felix, that he was a mistake. He was supposed to be off limits.
Addison had thought she was done choosing the wrong guy. She was supposed to be using her brain for once and ignoring her heart. The heart was unreliable. It was easily swayed. It couldn’t tell the difference between an explanation and a lie. Couldn’t tell deadbeat from dependable.
She was supposed to be choosing with her brain, choosing the one. The one who would be there for her through anything, for better or worse, not run out on her after three years when they found something that wasn’t perfect about her. Who she could have adventures with or simply cuddle up on the couch and watch movies with. And that wasn’t this guy.
Felix, with his faded band T-shirt and his constant five-o’clock shadow and his midnight bartending job that he probably used to hook up with the stragglers at the end of most nights. The girls who were desperate for attention and confused the bartender’s glances and free drinks with affection. Girls who stayed after last call hoping there was something more. Girls, she realized belatedly, just like her.
Addison’s arms that had been wrapped around Felix’s sturdy body suddenly pressed against him, creating a wedge between their bodies. She shoved him as hard as she could, wriggling away from him on the stained cloth top.
“Get off. Get off.”
Felix backed off, his hands in the air like he’d just burned himself on a stove. “What? What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”
“Not yet, you haven’t. And you’re never going to.” She scrambled off the pool table, landing awkwardly. She gripped her head, suddenly feeling the full effects of those deadly pink drinks. Why did she have to be such a lightweight?
Felix flinched like she’d just slapped him. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Look. I didn’t come here for a make-out session. I came here for help.” She jabbed a finger in the middle of his chest, unsure if she was angrier with him or herself. “Now are you going to help me or not?”
He glanced down at the finger poking him. “Not with that attitude I’m not.”
“I’m not going to go on a date with you just because I’m desperate for information. It’s coercion. It’s extortion. It’s—”
“Is it a deal?” He grabbed her finger, dragging her closer to him. But Addison wasn’t playing, and as she pushed him away again, the look on his face showed that he finally got the hint.
“So you won’t help me unless there’s something in it for you?”
He shrugged, but the flirtatious smile had left his face. He was serious too. “A guy’s got to try, right? Besides I have my own livelihood to look out for.”
“And what about mine? What about the dogs?”
He pointed a thumb at his chest. “I’ve got to look out for number one.”
“You’re looking out for something, all right.” Her eyes dipped down to the crotch of his well-worn jeans, which she couldn’t help notice were a little tight at the moment. “You’re exactly who I thought you were,” she said. “Forget it. I’ll figure it out on my own. Thanks for nothing.”
“What about the free drinks, the company, and the hot make-out session? You call that nothing?”
Storming over to the bar, Addison reached into her purse and grabbed all the bills she had. She slammed the money down on the table. It definitely wouldn’t cover the bill—not that he deserved a tip. It was only twenty-four dollars. But it would have to do.
“There. Now all I owe you is a bad memory.”
“Keep your damned money,” he said, thrusting it back at her.
“Is that how you get girls to go out with you? You liquor them up, find a way to take advantage of their situation because you have nothing else to offer? That doesn’t surprise me!” she yelled, because if she didn’t yell, she thought she might actually cry.
Why did she always fall for the wrong guy? Why was she so gullible? She wanted a good guy, like Phillip Montgomery III. She didn’t want to want a guy like Felix. A guy that wouldn’t inconvenience himself to help somebody unless something was in it for him.
But she wanted Felix. Oh, boy, she wanted him. Her damp booty shorts could attest to that, and she felt all the worse for it. She was hopeless.
“Excuse me?” Felix wasn’t yelling, but his voice held a certain power, an authority. It was almost worse than if he did yell. She was so used to his cool, cocksure attitude that the little vein popping out on his forehead had her backing up. “I’m not trying to take advantage of you. And I’ll have you know that I’ve got a lot going for me. I’m a catch. You came here looking for me tonight, remember?”
Addison didn’t need the reminder. She scoffed. “A catch? Yeah, as in I might catch something from you.”
He crossed his arms. “Why don’t you tell me how you really feel?”
“Why bother?” she said, slinging her purse over her shoulder. “I don’t want to waste my breath.”
“You weren’t able to catch your breath just a minute ago,” he said. Addison turned on her heel, but he grabbed her arm. “Why the sudden change of heart?”
“I was faking.” She flicked her hair in his face and marched toward the door.
“So that’s a no to the date, I suppose?” Although by the sarcasm coating his voice, it didn’t sound like he wanted one anymore.
Grasping the door handle, she glanced over her shoulder. “You’ve got about a dog’s chance.”
“That’s good,” he threw back at her, “because I hear you have bad luck keeping track of dogs anyway.”
Addison’s mouth dropped open and she stood there sputtering for a moment, caught between fury, humiliation, and outright insult. When all of the things she wanted to spit back at him, the insults and swearwords, balled into one, the only thing that came out was something between a grunt and a scream.
Wrenching on the heavy door, she flung it open and stormed out onto the sidewalk. The door slammed behind her and she heard the deadbolt snap home.
Addison was in no shape to drive, so she abandoned her car and stomped down the street in search of a cab. Her car would have to sit until she came back for it in the morning.
The walk did Addison good, the cool night air like a splash of water in her face. All the things she didn’t say to Felix, the responses that wouldn’t come to her, suddenly formed clearly in her head. Boy, were there some zingers. She was tempted to turn right around and throw them in his face, but at that moment a cab appeared. With a shaking hand, she hailed it and got in.
The taxi drove down the rolling San Francisco streets to her tiny Mission apartment. The eclectic mix of San Francisco row houses and colorful shops and bars passed outside her window. Looking for a distraction from her anger and her sudden self-loathing—because she was beginning to think she’d taken her anger out on the wrong person—she pulled out her phone to scroll through her contacts.
She didn’t know many of the people at the cocktail mixer the other night. It’s not like she’d been on the scene as long as Felix had. The only person she had connections with was Holly Hart, and she was the reason the entire incident escalated in the first place.
Addison just couldn’t bring herself to suck it up and call her. Besides, Holly wouldn’t help Addison prove her innocence. That would only take the wind out of Holly’s own story, not to mention make her look like a sloppy reporter—which would be entirely true.
Addison was about to chuck her phone into her purse when a new text message caught her eye. It was from an unknown number. Dreading yet another appointment cancellation, she opened it.
Hello Addison. This is Phillip Montgomery III. I was able to track down your number from a client of yours. It was a pleasure meeting you at the cocktail mixer. I’m sorry events prevented us from getting to know one another better. I’d like to see you again. I’m still holding the fundraiser this week, if you’re interested in attending. Regards, Phillip.
Addison clutched the phone, reading it over again. Phillip had tracked her number down. After losing seven dogs, her embarrassing debut on stage, the media blowup, and everyone blaming her, he had still tracked down her number.
She automatically touched her locks to see if there was a hair out of place—which, after her run-in with Felix, there were undoubtedly a lot. The giddiness she felt when she met Phillip at the cocktail mixer suddenly returned like a refreshing rain. It cleared her mind of any fog remaining from her heated pool table session.
Who cared if Felix saw her as a last-call girl when she was destined to be Mrs. Phillip Montgomery III?