JENNIE
"So tell me again where we're going? Shopping for pit bulls?" I asked, waiting in the backseat of the Range Rover with Rosé while Lisa and Haein stopped for gas. We were headed out of town for the night, spending some time in Rosé's hometown of Monterey. Just a few hours down the coast, it was like a whole new world.
"Yes. Exactly. We're going shopping for pit bulls, Jennie," Rosé replied dryly.
"Well? Aren't we?"
"It's not like shopping for a new handbag. Haein wants a puppy, and so do I. I think it'll be nice to have a puppy and a baby at the same time."
"I think it'd be nuts to have a puppy and a baby at the same time, but hey, I'm just along for the ride," I said. When she showed me her middle finger, I showed her one right back. "Seriously, that's a lot all at once, don't you think?"
"We were planning on getting a dog after the baby, but when my cousin Lucas started texting me these pictures of their latest litter, I just melted. I mean, look at this! Could you resist?" she said, scrolling through her phone and then holding it up to show me six or seven of the tiniest, most adorable puppies, lined up in a row on a pillow, with a proud mama behind them. Some were gray, some were black and white, all of them darling. "And look, video!"
"Oh, God, you're killing me," I sighed, as I watched the puppies wriggling all over the place, jumping and playing and being twelve kinds of cute. "I don't know how I'm going to get Lisa out of there without bringing one home."
"Luca would kill you," Rosé replied, shutting off her phone as the two came back to the car.
"With his bare paws," I agreed.
"Bare paws? Who're we talking about?" Lisa asked as she slid behind the wheel.
"Luca. Killing us."
"I have nightmares about that," she replied, shivering. "That cat's way too fucking smart."
"How's his harem doing?" Haein asked.
Lisa socked him one on the arm. "Dude. Don't call them that."
"His girlfriends. Sister wives. Whatever. How do you guys not have kittens running all over the place?" Haein asked, rubbing his arm.
"Luca was neutered a long time ago. No nuts for my boy," I said. "He won those girls over solely with his personality."
When Luca had returned home after his stint as a runaway, he didn't come alone. He'd brought along three lovely lady cats, all of whom adopted Lisa and me. We now lived with four, count them, four cats. Norah, Ella, and Dinah now joined Luca in ruling our household, and we just did what we could to get out of the way. Our bed was a bit crowded some nights, but in truth? We wouldn't have it any other way.
"Okay, Haein, let's go over the plan one more time. We pick out one puppy—one—and let's try and go for whichever one seems the calmest. Deal?" Rosé said, reaching up front and putting her hand on his shoulder.
"We'll see," he nodded. His face turned red ten seconds later. Rosé had begun to squeeze, obviously. "One puppy. You got it," he managed, and she gave him a pat on the head. "Cello players. Strongest hands you can imagine. Normally a good thing. But sometimes . . ." he told Lisa, who just laughed as we zoomed down the highway, bound for Monterey.
--
"And this is where we keep all the newer dogs, the ones we haven't worked with as much. Sometimes they can go right in with the other dogs, but they usually need a little doggie detox," the tall blonde said, grinning and making the tour sound fresh, though she'd obviously given it hundreds of times.
We'd made it to Monterey in just under two hours, which was a refreshing change. Whenever Jisoo was on a road trip, it always seemed like we had to stop every thirty miles or so for snacks. Once we reached Monterey it was a quick drive up into the hills to Our Gang, a rescue center for abused and abandoned pit bulls. Not knowing much about the breed myself, and only hearing the stories that are usually reported on the news, I didn't know quite what to expect. I certainly didn't expect a former beauty queen to be running the joint. Rosé had filled me in on Chloe, and how she'd gotten the gig, and for someone who'd only been running her own business for just over a year, it was impressive.
"Where are the puppies? I want to see the puppies!" Haein said, practically dancing through the barn we were standing in.
"Easy, Haein, they're just around the corner." Chloe laughed, patting the dog next to her. Sammy Davis Jr. was gentle and sweet, and obviously the mascot of the entire operation. Every volunteer she had working today stopped to say hello to him. Since I had a cat named Luca, who was I to judge what people named their pets?
"So how many people do you have working here?" I asked Chloe as we headed to where I assumed the puppies were.
"Full time there's just three of us, but I have six more part-time paid staff, and usually from seven to ten part-time volunteers, depending on the time of year and where we are in the semester. We've partnered up with a local veterinary college, and there's usually someone interning here for credit. Plus my boyfriend, Lucas. He's a veterinarian here in town, and he's up here all the time."
"You mean my cousin Lucas," Rosé piped up.
"No, I mean my boyfriend, Lucas," Chloe replied, tilting her head and smiling sweetly back at her.
"He's my cousin."
"He's my boyfriend."
"Shit, I like you so much better than his ex!" Rosé exclaimed, just as a very good-looking guy came around the corner.
"You picking on my cousin, Chlo?" he asked, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his side.
"I have to. She's being prickly," Chloe replied promptly, and Rosé stuck out her tongue. "Lucas, this is Lisa and Jennie, they're friends of—"
"They're my friends, and I can introduce them," Rosé interrupted. With as much crap as she was giving Chloe, I could tell she really liked her. "This is Lisa and Jennie."
"Nice to meet you Jennie, Lisa," Lucas said, reaching out and first shaking my hand, and then Lisa's. "I hear you guys are picking out a puppy to take back to the city?"
"Oh no, not us. Those two." Lisa pointed at Haein and Rosé. "We've got all we can handle with four cats at home."
"Four cats? Wow, impressive," Lucas said as we headed into a separate area. And then we finally saw . . . the puppies. And they were every bit as cute as promised. Haein immediately fell to the floor, letting them crawl all over him in a giant wave of adorable.
"Oh my God! These guys are awesome!" he cried out, now lying down in the pile of waggly tails. They swarmed him, to his delight.
As we watched our friend roll around on the floor, laughing his head off, I had a sudden vision of what Haein would be like as a father.
"You do know that you'll never get to play good cop with your kid, right?" I whispered to Rosé, who just shook her head as she looked on in amusement.
"Oh yeah, that's obvious," she said, then turned to me with a grin. "Besides, I look really good when I'm playing bad cop."
"I'm going to stop you right there," Lisa said, then lay down in the pile with her friend.
And as I watched Lisa play with the puppies, I had a sudden vision of her rolling around on the floor in our home, in Sausalito, covered in kittens and babies. Mmm, good vision.
"So, obviously they're all adorable," Chloe said, watching the two grown having a ball with a bunch of dogs. "Any thoughts on which you think you'd like?"
"Good lord, how in the world are we going to choose?" Rosé bent down to pick up a sweet little one that had begun nuzzling at her foot.
Ha! Rosie's choice . . . I bit it back and said nothing. I did look down to see Lisa, grinning up at me with hands full of puppies.
"A hundred percent no," I said, arching my eyebrow.
In the end, it was the puppies who made the choice for Rosé and Haein. Not one, not two, but three puppies had been adopted. Cute won out over common sense, and even Rosé was excited about the prospect of having a houseful of paws and toddler toes all at once. Truth was, I'd never seen her happier. She still talked a great game, tough as nails and seeming to have Haein by the balls, but she was thrilled with the turn her life was taking. The puppy trifecta was just one more sign that our leggy redhead was being domesticated.
We were all racing toward our thirties, settling down a bit perhaps, but never actually settling.
Lucas and Chloe invited us to stay for dinner. Haein and Rosé were staying the night. Lisa and I had made reservations at a little boutique hotel down by the ocean, and I was looking forward to being lulled to sleep by the sounds of the waves. I was also looking forward to making Chloe give me a tour of the crazy house she lived in.
"Seriously, this house is like a time capsule! I've never seen anything like it—are you sure you didn't get a designer to re-create 1958 in here?" I gasped, taking in all the kitsch.
"No way. Everything here is authentic, placed here by my grandparents and untouched for years. Even though it was a vacation home, I'm still amazed how well everything has stood up over the years—it's all still in great shape."
"I could literally sell every piece in this house to my clients; everyone wants midcentury right now. Jesus, is that a hi-fi system?" I asked, pointing to a large console sideboard with the center piece opened up. A turntable in mint condition sparkled from underneath. I'd had one of these refinished a few years back for a client, but this one was a beauty. Danish design, with clean simple lines; when it was closed it looked like a simple dining room buffet table. Everything I'd seen in this house so far was just full of great details like this.
"Oh yeah, we play records on that thing almost every day. Lucas, get that bad boy fired up!" Chloe called out, bringing her boyfriend out from behind the tiki bar.
"Sure thing, chickie baby," he replied, and a moment later the smooth vocal stylings of Mr. Dean Martin were pouring forth. "Now, who wants a cocktail? I've got zombies over here."
Two hours later, I'd learned a few things. One, zombie cocktails are lethal. Don't have more than you can handle, which for me turned out to be two.
We enjoyed dinner on the patio, and after we finished up the great meal Chloe had made we sat around chatting and drinking coffee, trying to combat the effects of the very delicious but very strong cocktails.
"Might want to go a little lighter on the booze next time," Chloe told Lucas. "We've been working our way through this great tiki bar cocktail recipe book, and some are considerably stronger than others," she said to the rest of us.
"Especially when you're the one in charge of the mai tais" Lucas murmured, and I saw a blush creep into Chloe's cheeks. "So, cousin of mine, when are you two tying the knot? I noticed we haven't received an invitation yet."
Rosé patted her belly. "Not sure, but at least six months after the munchkin gets here. I want to get some of this baby weight off first so I can be stunning."
"You'll be stunning regardless," I interjected.
"I mean prebaby-weight stunning. Sorry, I'm shallow. I said it so you don't have to," she said.
"You're not shallow." I laughed.
"You're pretty shallow," Chloe chimed in, with a smirk. Rosé picked up her knife and mimed slitting her throat. "Shallow and violent."
"I told you I liked this girl," Rosé said to Lucas, who threw back his head and laughed. "Speaking of weddings," Rosé continued, and my hand froze on its way to pick up my zombie. "When do you two think you're going to be making things official?"
My ears grew warm, my skin prickled, and my lips began to compose a retort when I saw that she wasn't looking at me, but rather at her cousin Lucas. My lungs deflated and I snatched up my glass, taking a big gulp of zombie. Big gulp of zombie, what a great name for a . . .
But why the hell did I freeze? Why did I care if she was going to ask Lisa and me about when we were going to get married? We'd get married when we wanted to. I mean, right?
As I shuffled through this mental Rolodex of panic, I caught Lisa's eye from across the table. She'd watched the whole thing, and she knew me well enough to know exactly what I'd been thinking. She grinned, knowing she'd caught me. I rolled my eyes and tried to act casual, paying extraspecial attention to the conversation that had continued during my freeze frame.
"Hold on—so you guys aren't planning on getting married? Ever?" Rosé asked, looking back and forth at Chloe and Lucas.
"Feisty, back off, it's not really your business," Haein said, rubbing her shoulders.
"No, it's cool. We're not planning on getting married—at least not anytime soon. We were both engaged to other people, both went through the whole wedding planning process, we know what that's like. We're pretty happy just as things are," Lucas said, leaning in and kissing Chloe on the cheek.
"It's true, why mess with a good thing?" Chloe agreed, leaning into his kiss. "Granted, we were both engaged to the wrong people, so one day we might decide to tie the knot. But for now? Not for us."
"I don't trust a girl who doesn't want to wear white," Rosé said, and I slapped at her hand.
"I wear plenty of white. Your cousin here has a thing for pinup girls in white lacey corsets," Chloe shot back.
"Too much—"
"Awesome!" Rosé and Haein shouted at the same time.
While the table dissolved into corset talk, I thought about what Chloe had said. If things were good, why change it? That was obviously working for them, and it was working for Lisa and me, as well. Hmmm . . .
I stood on the balcony overlooking the ocean, watching the breakers roll in. Starting slow, just outside my field of vision in the black night, each one grew slowly from underneath, swelling to the top and moving relentlessly toward the shore. Finally rearing up, first white around the edges, then throughout as it fell in on itself, crashing onto the rocks and foaming through every crack and crevice. I watched countless waves, following their inevitable path. Each began the same way; each ended the same way. Time after time, unaltered for eons.
Waves couldn't course correct. They couldn't simply decide one day, hey, I think I'll head south toward Mexico, see what's up down there. The only way they were going anywhere other than where they were intended was if there was some major event. Hurricane. Earthquake. El Niño. Otherwise, they were heading for the shore. You could set your clock by the tide. Eventual. Unavoidable. It's what happened.
Deep thoughts. Although it was hard to sit by the ocean and think shallow thoughts, my mind seemed to always go toward the heavy. It would default to melancholy sometimes; why was that?
"Babe, it's freezing out there, aren't you cold?" Lisa called from inside.
"It's not too bad, actually. The fresh air feels nice," I called back. Her footsteps grew louder as she came to the door and slid the glass all the way back.
"Seriously, freezing."
"Seriously, come warm me up, then," I replied, shaking my bottom at her slightly. Arms were wound around my waist within seconds. She pulled me back against her chest, hands wrapped around my hips, as I snuggled against her. "This feels nice."
"Agreed," she said into my hair, nuzzling my neck. "So what are you thinking about out here all by yourself?"
"Just watching the waves," I said, sliding my hands into her and wrapping them more firmly around my waist.
"You never just watch the waves, Jennie. You're thinking about something."
"I do too just watch the waves. Look how beautiful it is," I said, scanning the horizon left to right. The waves, the beach, the endless stars . . .
"It is beautiful," she agreed. "But I know you were thinking about something out here. You were sighing every thirty seconds."
"I was?" I asked, surprised.
"Sure—that's when I know something's on your mind. Your sighs are off the chart when something's up, babe."
"What? Wait, what?" I asked again, turning around in her arms to stare up at her.
"You think I can't tell, after all this time, when you've got something working up there?" she asked, dropping a kiss on my nose. "So out with it: what's got you sighing on a balcony?"
I sighed without thinking, causing a crease to appear on her forehead as she tried not to laugh. I looked at her face and rolled my eyes a little. Just the one roll.
"Okay, yes." I sighed. "And okay, yes, maybe I was thinking some thoughts."
"Care to share?" she asked, and I took the opportunity to press my face into her chest. "Oh, it's like that, is it? No sharing?"
"No no, it's not that. I don't know that I was necessarily thinking anything—just very vague ideas floating around, not even really thoughts yet. Like, thought . . . adjacent."
"Oh boy, we are really going all around this one." She chuckled. "So let's start with the thought adjacent. What's up, babe?"
"Have you ever watched waves and wondered, what if one wave wanted to go in another direction?"
"Watched waves, yes. Thought about assigning intelligent thought to waves? Nope. Can't say that I have." She looked more closely at me. "But now I'm curious. What thoughts do you think these waves are having?"
"It's not the waves, per se. Just . . . the idea that they have no choice. They have their path, and that's it. All roads lead to the beach."
"What a terrible road," she teased, and I socked her.
"You asked for my thoughts; these are my thoughts. I didn't say they made any sense—they hadn't gotten to that point yet," I said, and she held me closer.
"Nightie Girl, your thoughts make perfect sense, considering the dinner conversation tonight."
"Huh?"
"The panic on your face when you thought someone was asking about us getting married. Now you're out here worrying about waves making different choices. Not that hard a leap to make. It's not like I just met you, you know." I could feel her smiling against my neck, and if it was possible for me to hold her tighter, I wasn't aware of it.
"I wasn't panicked; it just surprised me, is all. And then when it wasn't actually about me, about us . . . I don't know, I just . . . I wasn't prepared to answer that question, I guess."
"What if I were the one asking it?"
"Wait . . . what?" I asked, lifting my chin and looking up at her. In the moonlight, her eyes were the deepest brown, and fixed solidly on me. Studying me, looking for a reaction. "You're not asking me to—"
"No, I'm not asking you to . . . Just asking you how you feel about it, in the general sense. No panic, please."
"I'm not panicking. I'm perfectly calm," I answered, then showed her my best facial tic.
"That's sexy, babe," she said, and laughed.
"You're asking me how I feel about marriage in general, or marriage with someone specific in mind?"
"Either. Or both."
I leaned back to look at her, her hands still on my waist. "I think marriage in the general sense is something I'm in favor of. I also think there's something to be said for the saying 'if it ain't broke, don't fix it.' It seems to be working for Chloe and Lucas. On the other hand," I said, sliding my hands up her arms to link behind her neck, "I think marriage with someone specific in mind is also something I'm in favor of—although it would depend on who the someone specific is, of course. Is there a candidate?"
"Possibly," she answered, beginning to slowly reel me back in closer to her chest. "Very possibly."
"Is she tall? Witty? Charming? Impossibly good looking?" I asked.
"Yes. All of those things." She nodded, looking very serious.
I smothered a laugh, rising on tiptoe to press a very loud kiss just below her ear. "You tell this potential fiancé of mine that if she wants my real answer, she has to ask the real question. Until then, this is all chitchat on a balcony. And I've had enough chitchat for one evening."
"How about sex on a balcony?"
"See, now that sounds more like it." I grinned as her hands slid down my back and around my bottom, pressing me into her hips. As her lips met mine, slow and unhurried, I thought about kissing this specific man for the rest of my life. How could anything possibly be better than this? Lisa and me, about to be naked and sexy—could anything top this?
And then I had a vision of this moment happening sometime in the future, but instead of Lisa unbuttoning my shirt, she was untying my corset. And instead of sliding my jeans down, she was slipping a blue lacy garter down my thigh. And instead of calling me Nightie Girl as she licked a path from my belly button south, she called me wife.
If she was at all surprised by how aggressive I was with her on the balcony, she didn't let on. She simply enjoyed it. Twice. Three times . . .
--
"But three? Seriously, three?"
"It'll be fun!"
"It'll be chaos! How in the world are you going to manage three puppies, a newborn, and Haein?"
"I'm nesting. I'm hormonal."
"You're psychotic."
"Also a distinct possibility," Rosé admitted as we sat in the back of the Rover on our way back to San Francisco. Lisa and I had driven back to Chloe's ranch earlier that morning to say good-bye to her and Lucas and the puppies, and to pick up Rosé and Haein. They'd be heading back down in a month or so, when the puppies were old enough to leave their mother and begin their new city life.
Though I adored the puppies, I thought she was getting in over her head with so much change too quickly. But, as she was fond of telling me, sometimes it was okay to "shut the fuck up and the back the fuck off," and just let them figure it out. But I still told her she was psychotic.
"Speaking of psychotic, I tried to call you last night to tell you Psycho was on the late-night movie."
"Oh?" I asked innocently.
"Yeah, I called you like three times in a row."
"Something else was happening, three times in a row," I said, speaking out of the side of my mouth so the two didn't hear.
"Nice," she said, also out of the side of her mouth, while sliding me a sneaky low-five.
"Yeah, all that marriage talk at the dinner table last night made me a little panicky, which made me go inside my head a little too much. Ended up okay, though. I think Lisa might be on the marriage train."
"Oh, you think? Forget the marriage train, come and join me on the obvious train—she's totally going to ask you to marry her," she said, which prompted me to put my hand over her mouth to shut her up.
"Everything okay back there?" Lisa called, looking at me in the rearview mirror.
"Totally, how's it going up there?" I asked, singsongy.
"Awesome, Lisa's letting me drive the radio!" Haein cried out, turning up Def Leppard to an obscene level.
Which thankfully was loud enough to drown out what Rosé was saying, but was even too loud to continue the conversation. So we did what all adult women do . . . we moved it to the text box.
Way too loud with that train shit, preggo . . .
Oh please, like this isn't obvious.
Less obvious than you yelling about her proposing.
You're the one who said marriage train. I was just pointing out the obvious fact that your wifey will eventually be making you her missus. DUH.
Yes, we talked about it. In a more concrete way last night than we have before. Last night was the first time we didn't dance around it—we kind of danced right through it.
That's so exciting!
Yes, it is. But no one has a ring yet, so settle the fuck down.
Oh don't make such a big deal out of this, of course she's going to ask you. She loves you.
I love her.
Okay, this is getting trite.
Totally. We should probably start talking again; they're going to wonder what we're up to back here.
Are you kidding? Listen to them singing. They love this '80s rocker bullshit. They're happy as clams.
We still have to start talking again.
What should we talk about?
Doesn't matter, something random.
Okay.
"Did you know they're talking about expanding the Vera Wang boutique on Geary?"
I hate you . . .