Annie never had a lot of luck with Valentine’s Day. Case in point: That time about five years ago she spent four hours making dinner for her almost boyfriend back in Oconomowoc, Wisconsin. Ed Winterbottom and she had been dating for about two months. He was nice enough, super cute, captain of the bowling team, even scored high on the home version of Jeopardy during game night. She thought when he texted, ‘Have a great Valentine’s Day. But…see you…’ that his message had mysteriously been chopped off. She assumed the last word in that text was “soon” or “But—you won’t believe what I got you!” Something along those lines.
So, she blasted a cheery playlist on her speakers, spent a few hours in the kitchen that Valentine’s Day (she didn’t mind, really), made him a tossed salad, beef stroganoff from scratch—not that icky pre-made stuff—and baked him a double fudge chocolate cake. But, Mr. Loser no-showed, no-texted, and then was tagged in pics on social media smooching it up with Candy Strowoski from Strowoski Farms. That’s when she realized his ‘See you’ was less of a kiss and more off a kiss off.
She drowned her sorrows for a week with beefy noodles and chocolate cake while streaming seasons of that show about the psychic chick who talks to ghosts and figures out who murdered them. Ghosts did that to her too, and she picked up some of her best crime-solving tips from that TV chick. She might have lost Ed Winterbottom in one night but it took her a month at the gym to burn off the tub of stroganoff lard she gained around her mid-section that week.
But times had changed. Annie had moved on and she had a good feeling about this Valentine’s Day. She was dating hunky Detective Raphael Campillio—he of the thick black hair, the kind heart, and muscular shoulders she could rub her hands across all day. They’d been exclusive for a while now. She’d gotten him tickets to his favorite blast from the past 1970s band at the Hollywood Bowl. She was meeting Rafe at Positano Trattoria on Main Street, a cute little Italian place that they both loved. He was coming straight from his detective job at the LAPD Pacific Division because they could only snag an ‘Early Bird’ reservation and were lucky to score that.
Annie might be a hardworking baker with a pinch of psychic ability but she was still a chick who liked to look nice on occasion, and a Valentine’s date with her sweetie was one of them. She shuffled through her itsy-bitsy closet while her beloved Himalayan-mix cat Theodore von Pumpernickle helped her select the perfect Valentine’s outfit. Teddy was not a big talker but she could always tell from the expression on his face if he approved or not. Eyes round and excited: approval. Eyes narrowed into slits and tail twitching: disapproval. Eyes darting to and fro: tracking a fly that dared to trespass in her bedroom.
She finally picked out an above-the-knee, tasteful-but-sexy red sheath, held it out in front of her and frowned. When was the last time she wore this thing? Pre-Ed Winterbottom days. Hmm. Annie thought it would fit. She pulled it on, sucked in her stomach and slid up the side zipper. It squeaked in protest over her forever stroganoff challenged waistline. But, voila! Mission accomplished. All body parts were firmly covered and contained.
She fashioned her hair in a messy bun, applied minimal makeup, and fussed over which earrings would look good with a romantic candlelight dinner with the handsomest detective in the world. She settled on simple gold hoops and grabbed a jacket from her closet. She checked herself out in the full-length mirror and did a double take. She cleaned up nicely: more than a few steps up from everyday Annie Graceland 2.0—the T-shirt and yoga-wear edition.
She fed Teddy. Or she tried to feed Teddy. She cracked open three cans of food and spooned the contents onto little plates for Mr. Finicky before she found a flavor he deigned to eat. “Be a good boy and finish the whole thing,” Annie said and gave him a little scratch behind his ears while he too noshed on his early bird dinner. “Cat Mother will bring you home something special tonight for Valentine’s Day. Promise. Love you, sweetie.”
As much as she adored her cat, Annie was so excited to be celebrating this day meant for ‘Love’ with an actual human being who loved her back for a change. Wasn’t that how Valentine’s Day was supposed to work?
As Annie walked down Main Street, the winter sun dipped low over the Pacific Ocean. L.A. was a big city but it was filled with pockets of neighborhoods that had a hometown feel. East L.A. had breweries and bakeries. Malibu had delis, sushi joints, and beaches. Main Street in Santa Monica was a mish-mash of trending and disintegrating, the street dotted with boutiques, cute little restaurants, a dive bar, a beauty parlor, and an ice cream shop. Annie loved it here.
The storefronts were decked out with heart-themed displays and Valentine’s Specials. She approached the most seductive store on the block and firmed her resolve to ghost this joint for a change. She picked up the pace, marched a little faster. She squared her shoulders and vowed to be strong. She could resist temptation. She, Annie Rose Graceland, might be known for baking cupcakes, but she wasn’t a sweet treat pushover. She was not stepping one foot inside Susan’s Pet Emporium today.
Hold on. Wait up. There was a gigantic colorful board in the shop window. Yes, Annie was still totally, 100%, committed to ‘Just saying No’ to venturing inside this place and getting lost for an hour or three but she slowed down and leaned in for a closer look. The splash of color was actually a super cute ‘Be Mine’ bulletin board pinned with photos of people and their pets. Her heart flip-flopped a little.
A hipster guy cradled a cute Maine Coon cat with big green eyes. They both looked so happy. A gigantic Bernese Mountain dog wore a goofy grin on its face and leaned against a woman around Annie’s age wearing jeans and a T-shirt. He practically knocked her over. Adorable! A Golden Retriever lying next to a lady with long red hair smiled at the camera, a squeaky toy in his mouth. They all looked so cute but Annie’s happiness was cut short by a pinch of guilt.
Why hadn’t she snapped a selfie of Theodore and herself and sent it in to Susan’s Pet Emporium for their Valentine’s Day montage? Oh, right. She’d been busy catering cupcakes at some TV producer’s kid’s birthday bash and trying to solve the murder of the midlist YouTube starlet. The dead starlet’s ghost had followed Annie everywhere, dramatically hunching over her ghost phone, complaining incessantly about the total unfairness that she’d only been deceased for a week and she wasn’t “trending” anymore on social media. Annie had worked 24/7 to figure out who had killed her (it was her manager) and sent that one to the Light in record time.
But, Annie recognized the pattern. She was working all the time and not paying as much attention as she should to her personal life. If she’d just stopped for a second, taken a moment to soak up the sunshine and appreciate all the goodness around her, maybe she would have taken the time to snap a picture of herself and Teddy, and send it to Susan’s shop. Then a pic of her cat’s cute mug could have been up on that board with all the other adorable pets. He had seemed so finicky with his food tonight. She should probably pop inside Susan’s Pet Emporium and grab him something yummy to make it up to him. She had promised to get him something special for Valentine’s Day…
Step away from that store, Annie Rose Graceland! Her voice of reason—a grownup lady who lived somewhere in the neglected, weed-filled area of Annie’s brain that governed sensible matters—declared.
Dang, she was usually right. Annie was meeting her hot boyfriend in half an hour. She would order a glass of Cabernet and actually enjoy Valentine’s Day with a human for a change—the way it was supposed to be done. But Theodore was her fur baby sweetie. He deserved care, attention, love…
Bah humbug! the adult lady insisted. Theodore’s a cat. Besides, Annie could keep her word by sprinkling a little nip on his scratchy pad later when she got home. He wouldn’t know if his special treat was new or old. You need to smell the scent of calamari fritti wafting through the air, Annie told herself. Hear the fresh cheese ravioli with sage butter sauce that calls your name. Watch the waiter light the little candle as you stare across the table at gorgeous Detective Raphael Campillio, goosebumps growing on the back of your arms when he smiles, flirts, and waggles his eyebrows suggestively.
Wait. Just a minute. There was another giant colorful poster next to the bulletin board. A picture of a black cat next to a bag of “Gussie Gunk’s Cat Grub Launch party.” Hmm. A launch party for a new line of cat food meant free things. Samples. Treats. And the sign said you could take a picture with the Spokesmodel Kitty? This sounded almost too good to be true.
Annie checked her watch. The event started in five minutes. Her dinner reservation wasn’t for another thirty. She pressed her nose against the glass. A decent sized crowd had already gathered. She hesitated but then she saw boxes of free samples being laid out and her resolve disappeared faster than Ed Winterbottom did on Valentine’s day five years ago. Annie pushed the door open. The little bells rang innocently, and she walked inside.
What would five minutes hurt? She’d grab some food, maybe take a pic with the spokeskitty, pick up a little nip for Theodore. Seriously, it was a pet store. What could possibly go wrong?