The Art of Wag (6 page)

After class, Tracy took the bus back to Shelby’s apartment. Her brain felt like mush after a whole day of learning about paths, masks, filters, and layers. Who knew messing around with a bunch of pixels could be so complicated?

On the other hand, she had learned enough to create a pretty cool drawing of Roxy. She had also discovered why Rob’s boss might have considered his color choices “horrifying.” Maybe Rob wasn’t just nearsighted. He might actually be color-blind. It seemed to be the only possible explanation for the grotesque creations she saw on his monitor.

Maybe she’d sit next to someone else tomorrow. Perhaps she’d just taken a lot of art classes, but Rob seemed to have the aesthetic sensibilities of a goat. He also didn’t seem to realize that what he was creating was repellent. To her credit, the instructor, Ms. Melina, had tried to remain encouraging, but the expression on her face was telling. As she squinted through the heavy lenses of her glasses at his creations on the screen, she looked like she’d eaten a rotten lemon.

Shelby had given Tracy the key to her place, so she let herself in and was greeted by Billy Bob, the jumbo cat. Even Squiggy, the stinky gray tabby at the vet clinic the other day, was small by comparison. Billy Bob was a proud orange member of the 20-pounder club. It wasn’t just that he was fat, which he was, but he was also tall, burly, and extremely furry, which added to his imposing feline presence. The cat lumbered toward Tracy, his prodigious gut swinging back and forth as he approached.

Tracy crouched down to say hello. “Hey, Billy Bob. How’s the mega-cat?”

Billy Bob flopped over on his back and exposed his pale orange-and-white underbelly for Tracy to rub. He curled his paws up to his chest and closed his eyes, obviously expecting Tracy to comply with his demand for affection.

At the sound of the door unlocking, Tracy stood and turned. Shelby walked into the room and threw her book bag on the entry table. She looked down at the expanse of orange cat. “So are you falling for the charms of that big ole lug? That fine figure of a feline, Billy Bob, obviously has you trained.”

“Yes. He’s a sweetheart, although I didn’t appreciate finding him on my head this morning when I woke up. Breakfast is clearly an important part of his day.”

At the comment, Billy Bob stood up to his full height, stretched, and bellowed a throaty meow.

Shelby chuckled. “Yes my liege, I’ll get right on that cat-food program.”

“So what’s in the bag?”

Shelby looked down at the grocery sack she was holding. “I stopped by the store. I know you wanted to go out somewhere, but let’s face it—you know neither of us can afford that. I took that cash you lent me for lunch and bought dinner. We’re eating in.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right. It’s my last chance to see the big city and I’m broke. I hate this.”

“Oh, it won’t be so bad darlin’.” Shelby put down the bag on the kitchen counter. “I edited a paper for another grad student and she was so happy that she gave me a bottle of wine.” She pulled a bottle out of the bag and presented it to Tracy with a flourish.

Tracy examined the label. “Hmm. Do you suppose
last
year was a
good
year?”

“Don’t look gift hooch in the mouth. It’s better than no year, which is what we had before.”

Tracy put the bottle down. “That’s true. So what’s for dinner?”

“I know you’ve been eating that nasty packaged pasta stuff, so I’m gonna get some good Southern food into you. It will help your brain power. You just watch.”

“At my place, we refer to that packaged pasta stuff as dinner.”

Shelby paused in her kitchen organizing. “I know. And that’s just sad. So tonight we’re having black-eyed peas, greens, and my famous homemade corn bread. It’s good for you, and the total cost for both of us is less than five dollars.”

“Greens? You know how I feel about vegetables.” Tracy picked up the evil bundle of leaves. “At least it’s not grits.”

“This food is part of my heritage. And you know you love my corn bread.”

“That’s true. It is amazing. You have won over countless men with that recipe. They date you just to get more of the stuff.” That and the fact that Shelby was beautiful in an elfin way. She had a round face and a sweet smile that seemed to turn men into a puddle of quivering gelatinous goo.

“My grandma’s corn bread recipe is my secret weapon.” The corner of Shelby’s mouth turned up in a small, knowing smile. “You could learn a thing or two from watching me cook, you know.”

“I suppose. I hope you’re right about my brain power too. Today I thought my brain would explode. Why do they make software so complicated? It’s like it’s out to get me.”

Shelby poured some of the wine into two glasses and handed one to Tracy. “Cheers! Don’t think of the software as complicated. Think of it as empowering. Remember how you struggled with paints? You can’t erase paint with just a click.”

“My apartment is ample proof of that. I’m hoping my mother doesn’t stop by. There was a cerulean blue incident that it’s probably better she not know about.”

“So other than the software being complicated, did you enjoy the class?”

“Sort of. At first, the guy I was sitting next to was afraid the instructor wouldn’t show.”

Shelby tilted her glass toward Tracy. “Guy? Is there something you aren’t telling me?”

“No. I tried to make myself look large like I needed the whole table to myself, but it didn’t work. He spotted the empty seat. I guess he was harmless enough. At least he wasn’t some art snob. I created a picture of Roxy that I thought was okay. The layering effects you can create are cool. Once I figured out how to do some stuff, the time flew by.”

Shelby sipped her wine. “See! That’s great. You’re so talented. I wish you’d stayed around here and gotten an art degree.”

“It wasn’t meant to be.” Tracy twirled the wine in her glass. It was a deep, rich burgundy color that almost looked velvety as it swirled around. “After I dropped out twice and pretty much flunked the biology program, effectively killing the idea of vet school, my father said there was no way he’d pay for any more college. And he told me an art degree would be useless as far as getting a job. You know I’ve never had enough money to try and go back myself. I can barely pay my tiny rent. Now, it all just seems pointless. I can paint by myself whenever I want, after all. So what do I need a degree for, anyway? Plus, I don’t miss the black-beret crowd.”

Shelby shook her head. “It just bothers me that you didn’t pursue something you enjoy. That’s what school is for.”

“Not according to my father.” Tracy put down her glass and leaned on the counter toward Shelby. “Oh, you’ll be amused to note, my instructor actually was wearing a black beret when she walked in. I almost laughed out loud!”

“Maybe it’s a uniform. So you can pick artists out of a crowd. It’s like at home in Alabama where you can spot the biggest loser rednecks because they wear their baseball hats turned backwards. And then they’re shading their eyes with their hand. There’s some comedian who calls the backwards hat the “stupid sign.” All I know is that it’s helpful when you’re driving. You see a guy with a stupid sign and you know you gotta give him a wide berth. Because you never know what dumbass maneuver he’s gonna pull in that rusty ole Ford pickup of his.”

Tracy laughed. “Remind me not to visit your home town. Alpine Grove is bad enough. The hunters are all out in their rusty pickups. But they’re wearing camo gear, so they think you can’t see them.”

Joel stood in front of the open pantry in the kitchen. “Kat, could you come here for a minute?”

Kat put down her novel, got up from the sofa, and was followed by three dogs. She stood next to Joel. “What’s wrong?” The canines—Lori, Lady, and Linus—stared into the pantry lovingly. The huge wooden box full of human food was always a source of great interest.

Joel pointed at a huge plastic jug in the cabinet. “What is that?”

“Mustard.”

“I know that. It’s a lot of mustard. No one needs this much mustard, except maybe a baseball concession stand.”

Kat shook her head. “The grocery store has a new restaurant-supply aisle. Maria thought it was incredible. I didn’t notice that she’d grabbed this until we were checking out.”

“How can you not notice when your friend puts a six-pound jar of mustard into your cart?”

“I was trying to keep her from buying any more Twinkies. We have more than enough.”

“That’s for sure.” Joel sighed. “Could you return the mustard? It’s not opened. Just because something is a good deal doesn’t mean it’s a good idea.”

“All right. I discovered it when she was here and I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. She did buy a lot of food for us.”

“Mustard is a fine condiment, but it’s not something we can live on. What do you want for dinner?”

Kat gazed at the pantry and then grinned at him. “Well you’ve ruled out mustard and Twinkies. That really limits our options, you know.”

Joel grabbed some cans and walked to the kitchen. “I’ll wing it. Would you chop up some carrots for me?”

Kat headed for the refrigerator, followed by the three dogs. “I’m on it.”

Joel started opening cans and dumping them into a pot. “You have a parade of large dogs following you. What did you do with the little one? Where’s the dachshund?”

Kat looked around her. “She was right next to me.” She bent down to look under Linus’s hairy body. “Okay guys. Where is Roxy?” All three dogs wagged, but none of them gave any indication that they had any clue where the dachshund had gone.

“You didn’t lose the dog, did you?”

Kat stood up and put her hands on her hips. “
Lose
is such a strong word. Roxy is here somewhere. I’ll look around.” She went back to the living room and looked under the sofa and end tables. Lori licked her ear. “Yuck. Lori, why do you
always
have to do that?”

A small yip noise came from the direction of the kitchen. Kat pushed Lori away and stood up. “Did you hear that?”

Joel stopped chopping carrots. “I heard something. Was it the dog?”

Kat started back toward the kitchen. There was a louder woof and all the dogs ran back to the kitchen and stared at the walls and cabinets.

Joel put down the knife and leaned back against the counter. “Was it from inside or outside? She didn’t get out, did she?”

Kat’s shoulders slumped. “I hope not. She doesn’t really do stairs, but I’ll go look, just in case.” She waved at the dogs. “Let’s go, everyone.” It was pouring rain and Kat grabbed an umbrella and a raincoat on her way out. The dogs thundered down the front steps and then turned to glare at Kat. She waved at them. “I know. Yes, it’s raining. Get over it. Look for Roxy. You’re dogs. Use your noses. Sniff her out.”

Linus shook his huge body, spewing water on the other dogs, who leapt away from him. They all sniffed around half-heartedly for a few moments. Lori and Lady were not fans of wet weather, so they went back up the steps and stood on the front landing, looking soggy and annoyed.

Linus followed Kat around the yard as she called for Roxy. His tail drooped and water dripped off his long brown coat. Kat looked down at him. “Sorry, Big Guy. I hope Roxy wasn’t stupid enough to go out in this. We’ll never find her.”

The front door opened and Kat turned at the sound of Lady’s and Lori’s scrabbling claws as they ran back inside the house. Joel stood on the landing and said, “I think you’re right. I don’t think she’s out there. She barked again and I’m pretty sure it came from inside somewhere. It was too close.”

Kat patted Linus’s head. “Thank goodness. It’s horrible out here.”

Back in the house, Kat pulled off her sodden coat and walked into the kitchen. “That is a seriously cold rain. I’m freezing.”

Joel smiled and put his arms around her. “Look at the bright side. It’s not snow. Now you know why I’m so motivated to get firewood.”

Kat shuddered and huddled in closer. “I’m not sure I’m cut out for winter.” At the sound of another yipping noise, she pulled her head away from his chest. “Was that Roxy?”

“Presumably. Somewhere.”

Kat looked up into his face. “She’s in the kitchen. Could she have gotten into the cabinets? Tracy told me she got into her pots and pans. But how could I not hear that? I was
right
here.” She walked over to the kitchen and crouched down. “Roxy? Are you in there?”

A little yip noise came from the corner cabinet. Kat opened it and sat cross-legged on the floor, pulling pots and pans off the lazy Susan. “Roxy? It’s okay. Where are you?”

Joel crouched down and looked over her shoulder. “There’s no dog in there.”

“But I heard her. She’s in there somewhere. What’s behind the cabinet?”

“A wall? Move over and let me look.”

Kat picked up the pots and pans and put them on the counter while Joel reached around in the back of the corner cabinet. “There’s a loose piece of wood here behind the lazy Susan, but I can’t get at it.”

Kat said sweetly, “Oh Roxeeey, are you in there?” and received a small
yip
in reply. “Uh-oh.”

Joel stood up and turned off the burner for the soup on the stove. “I think dinner may be delayed. I’ll go get my tools.”