Disclaimer: I don't own either the characters or storyline. Inspired by the Non-fiction novels I read.
I don't have a beta reader so all the grammatical mistakes are my faults. Please post reviews. It is like Glucose for me to write. Am open for anykind of comments.
Chapter 1:
Tired, edgy, and scared that she was never going to get her life on the happy track, Emma Swan dropped into the back booth of the diner and sagged against the red vinyl seat. "I could really use a drink."
Mary Margaret, in pressed slacks, just coming off from home to go to City Hall, snorted as she crawled into the booth as well. "It's eight in the morning."
"Hey, it's happy hour somewhere." This from their third musketeer, Ruby, who was wearing a white tee, a red short skirt, and kickass boots. The sexy-mistress ensemble was slutress by the bright red EAT ME apron she was wearing while waitressing. "Pick your poison."
"Actually, I was thinking hot chocolate with cinnamon," Emma said, fighting a yawn. She'd slept poorly, worrying about money. And paying bills. She doesn't have to worry about keeping a roof over her head… Thanks to Mary Margaret.
"Hot chocolate will up right up," Ruby said. "Be right back."
Four months ago, Emma had come to Boston from Florida for a Boston Police job, until she'd discovered that putting out for the abusive boss was part of the deal. Leaving the job on the table, she'd gotten into her beat-up VW bug and driven as far as the tank of gas could take her, ending up in the little Maine state beach town of Storybrooke.
She stayed at Bed and Breakfast owned by Ruby's granny in the beginning than Mary Margaret offered her guest bedroom till Emma gets settled. All these three girls met in the same diner when Emma was stuck there due to snowstorm with two strangers and spent a few scary hours soothing their nerves by eating a very large chocolate cake. So they continued their meetings with love of chocolate. It was important to have the right food for those meetings- Except these days, Mary and Ruby actually had love lives and Emma did not.
Ruby disappeared again and came back with a tray of steaming big, fluffy chocolate pancakes. "I love you," Emma said with great feeling as she took her first bite of delicious goodness.
"You going to tell us what's wrong, Emma?" Mary Margaret surprises Emma suddenly. "I didn't say anything was wrong."
"Okay spit it Missy…" Emma sighed. "I've applied to every PI firm, local law enforcement between Storybrooke and New York. There's not much out there."
"No nibbles?" Mary asked sympathetically, reaching for the syrup, her engagement ring catching the light.
Ruby shielded her eyes. "Jeez, Mary, stop waving that thing around—you're going to blind us. Couldn't David have found one smaller than a third world country? Or less sparkly?"
Mary ignored Ruby's comment, unwilling to be deterred. "Back to the nibbles," she said to Emma.
"Nothing, just a couple of possible interviews for next week, one in New York, one in Boston." Neither job was exactly Emma wanted. She still mad at herself for following that job offer to Boston, but she'd wanted a good solid position in the law enforcement—just not one that she could find in the Kama Sutra.
"I don't want you to leave Storybrooke," Mary said. "But one of these interviews will work out for you. I know it."
Emma didn't necessarily want to leave Storybrooke either. She'd found the small, quirky town to be more welcoming than anywhere else she'd ever been, but staying wasn't really an option. She was never going to build her big career here.
"Yeah, none of those things are your real problem," Ruby said.
"No?" Emma asked. "What's my real problem?"
"You're not getting any."
Emma sagged at the pathetic truthfulness of this statement, a situation made all the worse by the fact that both Ruby and Mary were getting some.
Lots.
"What's today's job?" Ruby asked.
When Emma had first realized she needed to get a temporary job or stop eating. She'd purposely gone for something new. Something that didn't require wearing stuffy pencil skirts or closed-toe heels.
"I'm delivering birthday flowers to Mrs. Burland for her eightieth birthday. Then modeling at Lucille's art gallery for a drawing class."
"Modeling for an art class?" Mary asked. "Like… nude?"
"Today they're drawing hands."
"If I had your body," Ruby said, "I'd totally model nude. And charge a lot for it."
"Sounds like you're talking about something different than modeling." Mary said dryly.
Emma rolled her eyes at the both of them and stood. She dropped the last of her pocket money onto a table and left to make the floral deliveries.
Two hours later, Emma was just finishing the last of deliveries when her cell phone buzzed. She didn't recognize the incoming number, she answered. "Emma Swan," she said in her most professional tone.
"I'm calling about your flyer," a woman said. "I need a dog walker. Someone who's on time, responsible, and not a flake."
Her flyer? "A dog walker?" Emma repeated.
"Yes, and I'd need you to start today."
"Today … as in today?" she asked.
"Yes."
The woman, whoever she was, had a hell of a voice, low and little raspy, with a hint of impatience. Clearly she'd misdialed. And just as clearly, there was someone else in Storybrooke trying to drum up work for themselves.
"I could start today."
"Your flyer lists your qualifications, but not how long you've been doing this."
Emma had never had so much as a goldfish, but really, how hard could it be? Put the thing on a leash and walk right? "I'm a little new at the dog walking thing," she admitted.
"A little new?" the woman asked. "Or a lot new?"
"A lot."
There was a pause, as if she was considering hanging up. Emma rushed to fill the silence. "But I'm very diligent!" she said quickly. "I never leave a job unfinished." Unless she was asked how she felt about giving blow jobs during lunch breaks…. "And I'm completely reliable."
"The dog is actually a puppy," she said. "And new to our household. Not yet fully trained."
"No problem," Emma said, and crossed her fingers, hoping that was true.
"I left for work early this morning and won't be home until late tonight. I'd need you to walk the dog by lunchtime."
Yeah, she really had a hell of a voice. Low and authoritative, it made her want to snap to attention and salute her, but it was also…sexy. Wondering if the rest of her matched her voice, Emma made arrangements to go to her house in a couple of hours, where there'd be someone waiting to let her inside. Her payment of forty dollars cash would be left on the dining room table.
Forty bucks cash for walking a puppy…
Score.
At the appropriate time, she pulled up to the address she'd been given and sucked in a big breath. She hadn't caught the woman's name, but she lived in a very expensive area, on the northernmost part of town where the rocky beach stretched for endless miles like a gorgeous postcard for the Atlantic Northwest.
She was waiting on a great job with benefits to come along first.
Emma knocked on the door, and then caught sight of the Post-it note stuck on the glass panel.
"Dear Dog sitter,
I've left door unlocked for you. Please let yourself in. Oh, and if you could throw away this note and not let my sister know I left her house unlocked, that'd be great, thanks. Also, don't steal anything.
Maleficent"
Emma stood there chewing her bottom lip in rare indecision. She reminded herself that she was a smart in a crisis and could get through anything.
But walking into a perfect stranger's home seemed problematic, if not downright dangerous. What if a curious neighbor saw her and called the cops? She looked herself over. Enjoying her current freedom from business wear, she was in Jeans and tank-top with her red pleather jacket, her Payless-special ankle boots.
Regardless, what if this was a setup? What if a bad guy lived here, one who lured hungry, slightly desperate, act-now-think-later women inside to do heinous things to then? Okay, so maybe she'd been watching too many late-night marathons of Criminal Minds and Law & Order, but it could totally happen.
Then, from inside the depths of the house came a happy, high-pitched bark. And then another, which seemed to say, "Hurry up, lady. I have to pee!"
Ah, hell. In for a penny… Emma opened the front door and peered inside.
The living room was as stunning as the outside of the house. Wide-open spaces, done in dark wood and dark colors. The furniture was oversized and sparse on the beautiful, scarred hardwood floors.
As Emma stepped inside, the barking increased in volume, intermingled now with hopeful whining. Just past the kitchen was a laundry room, the doorway blocked by a toddler gate.
On the other side of the gate was a baby pig.
A baby pig that barked.
Okay, not a pig at all, but one of those dogs whose faces looked smashed in. The tiny body was mostly tan, the face black with crazy bugged-out eyes and a tongue that lolled out the side of its mouth.
"Hi," she said to him. Her? Hard to tell since its parts were so low as to scrape the ground along with its belly.
"Oh, there's no need for all that," Emma said, and opened the gate.
Mistake number one.
The dog/pig/alien streaked past her with astounding speed.
"Hey," she called. "Slow down."
But it didn't, and wow, those stumpy legs could really move. It snored with sheer delight as it made its mad getaway, and Emma was forced to rethink the pig theory. Also, the sex mystery was solved. From behind, she'd caught a glimpse of dangly bits.
It—he –ran circles around the couch, barking with merry enthusiasm.
"Hey," she said. "Hey you. We're going outside to walk."
The puppy dashed past her like lightning.
She was beginning to see why the job paid so much.
She retracted her steps to the laundry room and found a lease and collar hanging on the doorknob above the gate. Perfect. The collar was a manly blue and the tag said TANK.
Emma laughed out loud, and then searched for Tank. Turned out, Tank had worn off the excess energy and was up against the front door, panting.
"Good boy," Grace cooed, and came at him with his collar. "What a good boy."
He smiled at her.
Aww. See?
Compared to posing nude, this job is going to be a piece of cake. She was still mentally patting herself on the back, Tank squatted, hunched, and—
"No!" she cried. "Oh no, not inside!" She fumbled with the front door, which scared Tank and stopping mid-poo. He ran a few feet away from the front door and hunched again. He was quicker this time.
Emma staggered after him, eyes watering from the unholy smell. "Tank! Tank, wait!"
Tank didn't wait. He raced across the front yard and the street. He hit the beach.
"Oh, God," she cried. "No, Tank, no!"
But Tank dived into the first wave and vanished.
She dashed closer to the water. A wave hit her at hip level, knocking her back a step as she frantically searched for a bobbling head.
Nothing.
The next wave hit her at chest height.
Wave number three washed right over the top of her. She came up sputtering, shook her head to clear it, and then dived beneath the surface, desperate to find the puppy.
Nothing.
She pulled her phone from her purse and swore because it'd turned itself off.
She powered the phone on, gnawed on her lower lip, then called the woman; she waited until the woman picked up.
"Mayor Mills," came the low, deep sexy voice.
Mayor Mills. Mayor Mills?
"Hello?"She said."Anyone there?"
Oh, God. This was bad. Very bad. Because Emma knew her.
Well, okay, not really. She'd seen around in newspaper and TV and because she was good friends with Mary's and Ruby's boyfriends. She is Mary's BOSS. Mayor Regina Mills was thirty—four—which she knew because Mary had given her thirty-four chocolate cupcakes on her birthday last month, a joke because she was a health nut. She was a very sexy, hot built for modeling more than the City Hall, but she'd chosen the latter. Even after long day at work, her dark hair tousled and her dark eyes lined with exhaustion, she was drop-dead sexy. The few times that their gazes had locked, the air had snapped, crackled, and popped with a tension she hadn't felt with anyone in a far too long.
And she'd just killed Regina's puppy.
"Um, hi," Emma said. "This is Emma Swan. Your… dog walker. I might have just lost your puppy."
There was a single beat of stunned silence.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered.
More silence.
"Mayor Mills? Did you hear me?"
"Yes."
Emma waited for the rest of her response, desperately gripping the phone.
"You might have lost Tank," Regina repeated.
"Yes," Emma said softly, hating herself.
"You're sure."
"Yes." Emma looked around the beach.
"Well, then, I owe you a big, fat kiss."
Emma pulled her phone from her ear and stared at it, then brought it back. "No, I don't think you understand. I lost Tank. In the water."
Regina muttered something that she'd have sworn sounded like "I should be so lucky"
"What?" Emma asked.
"Nothing. I'm two minutes away. I got a break in the City hall and was coming home to make sure you showed."
"Well, of course I showed—"
But she'd disconnected.
"Why wouldn't I show?" Emma asked no one. She dropped her phone back into her pocket and got up. Two minutes. She had two minutes to find Tank.