Page 44 of Doggy Style

“Hawai’i is always great. Too bad it was cut short. But at least we saved a dog.” I bring up finding Cuffs to deflect from the Gidget situation. Maybe that’ll help me win back some brownie points with Yessi’s friends.

“Oh, the ‘pibble?’ Yeah, they’re always hard to adopt, poor things. They’ve gotten such a bad rap, but that’s mostly because of irresponsible owners.” Eden signals and we merge onto the freeway.

“So, you’re going to adopt him, too, right?” Avril starts in with the guilt trip.

“We’ll see.”

Avril’s eyes narrow, but she doesn’t say anything else. Man, I’m going to end up going from zero dogs to two. And Yessi has five. If we ever move in together, we’ll have seven dogs. Is that even legal?

Gidget curls up in my lap, and I take Yessi’s hand. “Can we go straight to my store? I need to find Hugh.”

Eden looks at me in the rearview. “Well, we went by this morning. Our dogs are all fine. But Hugh wasn’t there.”

Where did he go?

“Could you please just take me there? I’ll check around his place. His apartment is above the shop.”

“Sure,” she says with a shrug.

After a few hours in horrendous LA traffic, we finally arrive at the store. We all pile out of the van and go inside. First, we check on the dogs, who I’m relieved to see are all in great condition.

I see Wanda, the kennel attendant. “Hey, Wanda. Thanks for holding down the fort for me. Have you seen Hugh?”

She shakes her head. “No. Not since last night. He took off with Gidget and a duffel bag. Said he was staying at your place. I didn’t ask him any questions. He hasn’t been back since.”

My place? I told him he couldn’t stay at my home if he wouldn’t watch Gidget. What a jerk.

But he does have a spare key to my condo.

As do I to his place.

I dash upstairs and enter his apartment. I see a half-eaten bowl of cereal on the kitchen table, dirty laundry on the floor, and an overflowing garbage can in the kitchen. It’s a pigsty, but nothing out of the ordinary. Dude is a slob—it always looks like that. Ever since we were kids, he’s been kind of slovenly, so I always used to suggest we hang at my place.

But there’s no sign of Hugh.

I text him again.

Dude. Where the fuck are you? We need to talk.

I stare at my phone but get no reply.

With a sigh, I head back downstairs. Yessi greets me, holding a fluffy poodle.

“Where is he? Let me at him,” she says, with a scary look on her face as she puts the dog back in a crate. If Hugh were here, I’d almost feel sorry for him. Almost.

“No clue, but I’m screwed. How am I supposed to open this store without a manager?” I run my hand down my face, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by everything.

She takes my hands. “No, you aren’t. You got us.”