Plight(34)

"Pat your lap a few times and say, 'Dudley Doo, where are you?'," Danielle shouted.

I paused and looked over my shoulder toward the laundry. Dudley Doo?  …  Are you shitting me?

Gritting my teeth, I called out, "Dudley d  …  doo, where are you?"

"You have to say it louder, Elliot. And with more love in your voice."

More love? More fucking love?

"Are you sure you don't want me to clean that up and you find him?"

"No! You're not cleaning up my dog's shit."

At least she was courteous. "Okay. But he's not coming when I call him."

"Do you have cheese?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"He loves cheese. If you have cheese, he'll smell it and come." Lucky Pugly! I love pussy, and when I smell it, I come. Doesn't mean I get it given to me after I've crapped on someone's shirt.

Walking to my fridge, I opened the door and pulled out the cheese tray, finding a half-eaten block of Mersey Valley Vintage. He's not having my good cheese. Fuck him. I surveyed the shelves: T-bone steak - in his dreams. Leftover lasagne - he can kiss my arse. A spotty banana - bingo!

"Does he like banana?" I called out, grabbing it.

"Banana? He's not a monkey, Lots."

"Monkeys don't actually eat bananas," I mumbled.

"What?"

"NOTHING!" 

Rounding the corner into my living room, I scanned the sofa and rug but he wasn't there. Pugly, where are you? I have this yummy, over-ripened banana for you. Shit! Did I leave my bedroom door open? Hightailing it back down the hallway, I passed the laundry and bathroom, skidding to a halt when a blur of grey and black caught my eye. Was that Pugly  …  in my shower?

I backed up a few steps and poked my head into my bathroom, finding Dudley with his leg cocked, a stream of yellow piss hitting the glass screen. What the fuck is wrong with this dog?

"At least he got something kinda right," Danielle said, her voice just shy of my ear.

I turned to face her. "Your dog needs training."

"Fine." She rolled her eyes. "He needs training. I just haven't had the time to do it."

Stepping past me, she turned the shower on and closed the door, locking Pugly inside. "Serves you right, you naughty boy."

He jumped up the glass and barked at her.

"No. You're not coming out until you're clean."

"And dry," I added, leaning against the doorframe with my arms crossed.

She looked over her shoulder. "I don't suppose you have a hairdryer?"

I smiled. "No, but I have a better idea."





"Elliot!" Danielle's hand gripped my arm. "Are you sure this is allowed?"

I turned the key to the gymnasium door and opened it, gesturing she enter before me. She glanced over her shoulder, as if she was about to perform an elaborate jewellery heist, then stepped inside my building's gym, Pugly craddled in her arms, his baby-like position emphasised by the towel he was swathed in. Honestly, the only thing missing was a bottle.

He looked ridiculous.

As I closed the door behind us and locked it, I shrugged. "Not really. But don't worry, I know a kick arse solicitor."

She tippy-toed past me. "Shit! I hope he's as good as you say he is. We might need him."

"He's the best. Real good looking, too."

"Is there something you're not telling me, Lots? As in you have the hots for cocks?"

She let out a little snort-laugh as we dodged weight machines and treadmills en route to the change rooms.

"I'm just going to ignore that comment," I said with the disdain that it deserved.

"Whatever. Suit yourself."

As I passed the gym balls, one of them wobbled and knocked all three from their holders attached to the wall, giant blue balls bouncing in various directions. Blue balls, how ironic?

"Shit!" I chased after them.

"Oh my God," she laughed. "I can't believe we're doing this."

"Why not? It's just like that time when-"

"When we hid inside the supermarket just before it closed for the night," she said, continuing to giggle as I rounded up the balls.

"Yep. That's the one." I put them back on their stands, smiling at the memory of Danielle and I crouched behind freezers as we watched my sister lock up after her closing shift. If it weren't for the fact we'd left our bikes leaning against the store wall, we'd have gotten away with it.

"No wonder Laura hates me," she whispered as if someone could hear her. "She must think I'm such a bad influence on you."

I held the changeroom door open. "Hiding was my idea."

"I know! Everything was your idea."

She was right. Everything was my idea. Just like when we were trapped in the storm drain. Playing underground that day had been my suggestion.