Molly Ramsey had never been so happy to pull into the tiny driveway of her Druid Hills condominium in all her life. It wasn’t anything particularly special – just a simple one bedroom, one bath abode with generic beige walls and a leaky kitchen faucet, but it was her place to escape from the rest of the world. Throwing the gear shift of her brother’s black Escalade into park, she expelled a long breath as she took a moment to just stare at her welcoming red front door. Adorned with a festive wreath she’d made herself, it added a homey feel to an otherwise nondescript doorway.
The tiny place in front of her wasn’t much, but it was home. And right now, home meant safety… security … and most importantly, serenity. Maybe once she was behind that closed front door, she could begin to make sense out of everything that had happened in the last few hours.
She doubted it, but a girl had to keep hope alive.
Shoving open the SUV’s door, she took a moment to lock the vehicle before trudging up the cobblestone path that led to her front porch. Eyeing the weeds growing through the cracks in the sidewalk, she sighed. Evidently the lawn maintenance fee that was included in her rent didn’t cover pulling weeds. Mentally adding the chore to her to-do list, Molly focused on getting inside. Opening her door, she inhaled deeply, the comforting smell of her cinnamon air freshener automatically comforting her.
“Coco! Chanel!” she called out to her two adopted fur babies. “Mommy’s home!”
Excited yaps greeted her as her two-year-old Pekingese scampered at breakneck speed into the living room from the back of the condo, the nails of his feet tapping excitedly against the kitchen tile. Bending, she scooped one of her two babies into her arms. “Well, hello, Chanel.” She giggled as the tiny caramel colored dog licked her face. “How was your day, my little prince pretty? I hope it was better than mine because Momma’s day just sucked!”
The happy dog pressed his cold nose against her cheek in reply. “Okay, where’s your arch nemesis, Chanel? Where’s Coco? You didn’t try to eat her again, did you?” she asked the excited pup in her arms. It wouldn’t be the first time that Chanel had used Coco for a chew toy. Of course, Coco had attempted to use Chanel as a scratching post from time to time before she’d been declawed, so their continued survival was apparently not in question.
Yes, her pampered pets were the animal equivalent to the Hatfields and McCoys, but she wouldn’t have it another way. They were both generally happy and supremely spoiled.
As if summoned by her question, a black-and-tan Siamese cat sauntered into the room and arched its back in greeting, hissing at Chanel in her arms. Coco didn’t particularly like being petted, but she detested watching Chanel get any affection. “Well, there’s my pretty Coco,” Molly crooned to the feline, stepping closer. “There’s Momma’s pretty girl.”
The cat merely sniffed disdainfully.
“Okay, down you go,” she told Chanel, putting the pooch back on the hardwood floor. “I know I’m later than usual, but it’s been a rather crappy day,” Molly explained to the animals as she kicked off her heels and walked into her kitchen. Grabbing a can of cat food and a packet of dog food, she dropped them on the counter before rooting in the cabinet above the dishwasher for their food bowls.
Locating them quickly, she pulled them down and spared a look to her expectant pals. It was as if they were waiting for her to spill her guts. “So, Devil…. You remember Devil, don’t you?” she asked them.
Coco hissed again and arched her back.
“Yeah, that’s how I feel about him most of the time, too,” Molly commiserated as Chanel ran between her legs, pawing her feet. “I’m hurrying, sweetie,” she told the dog when it yapped twice. The pooch couldn’t stand it when he had to wait for his dinner. “Anyway, he proposed today. Well, propose is a strong word,” she amended. “He announced that we were getting married today. Evidently, he wants to be your new daddy.”
Coco shrieked and stiffened. Chanel moaned and rolled over on his side.
The one thing her two faithful companions could agree on was their mutual intolerance of William ‘Devil’ Delancy. And as far as Molly was concerned, her babies were highly intelligent and understood everything she said.
Molly laughed. “Again, it’s like we share one mind, you guys, because that was my response, too. Except, I expressed my displeasure a little more violently,” she admitted, bending to slide the cat and dog dishes in front of her babies’ noses.
Molly petted Chanel’s head as the dog chowed down on his grub. Reaching out to slide her hand against Coco’s sleek fur, she merely smiled as the cat arched her back against her hand but barely batted an eyelash as she, too, continued eating. These animals were her two closest confidants, with the exception of her two gal pals of the homo sapien variety. “I’m not sure what I’m gonna do, sweeties,” she murmured to the animals while she stroked Coco’s head. “Hopefully, Viv and Sami can help me figure things out. They did a pretty good job of advising me when I met you guys. If not for them, you two would still be in those stupid kennels at the animal shelter.”
Chanel lifted her head from the bowl at the mention of Viv and Sami.
“That’s right, baby, the woman that named you is coming for a little visit.” Molly grinned. It had been her girlfriends’ idea a couple of years ago that she needed a distraction to get over her disastrous breakup with the college douchebag she’d been dating. After spending her entire four years at University with one man, suddenly being alone and single in Atlanta had nearly overwhelmed her. So, her duo of besties had made the unilateral decision to get her a companion.
A soft heart, Molly was no match for the sad faces staring at her from behind their cages inside the animal shelter. Finding one furry friend had evolved into finding two furry friends pretty darn quickly.
Her friend Sami was actually the one that had bequeathed both animals with their names. A model by trade, Samantha Dixon had been a little put out by the fabulous designers at Coco Chanel at the time their trio had tripped into the animal shelter two years ago. She’d been slated to appear on the runway wearing the fabulous clothes of the fabled fashion maven, but the powers that be had yanked their contract from her at the last minute when they’d deemed the leggy blonde a little too voluptuous to appropriately model their fall line.
So, when the three friends had strolled by the Pekingese’s cage and Molly had instantly fallen in love, Sami had declared that the world’s ugliest dog could go by no other moniker than the name ‘Chanel’. Her other best friend, Viv, an attorney, had argued valiantly on the Peke’s behalf, but when Sami had softly crooned “Who’s a fierce little furball, Chanel?” through the steel bars of the cage and the dog had lifted its ears in response, they all knew that the unfortunate name had been sealed. A few minutes later when Molly had spotted an abandoned brown and black Siamese cat staring at her with woeful eyes, the name ‘Coco’ had fallen easily into place.
Yeah, her peepettes had all done their best to put the fun in dysfunctional, but she wouldn’t have it any other way.
Molly rose from the floor after offering each animal one last scratch behind the ears and glanced at her wristwatch. Each of her gal pals had already texted her back after she’d sent out her brief 9-1-1 message from the parking garage of the hospital. Both would arrive any time now, and she wanted to be pleasantly buzzed before she explained the origins of her frantic text to them.
Grabbing her trusty bottle of vodka from the freezer, Molly didn’t even bother with a glass. Instead, she simply lifted the half-full container to her lips and took a healthy swig. Leaning against the counter, she heard the front door open and close and then the distinctive tap of stiletto heels against the hardwood floors of her condo.
“Alright, bitch! You’ve got five seconds to explain to me why the hell I got a 9-1-1 text during my bikini wax, and it better be good! Rudolfo is furious that I left, and my woo woo is seriously lopsided, all thanks to you! He may never give me another slot in his spa again, and I have a swimsuit shoot next week! You know that man considers his waxes to be the works of an artistic mastermind! Not to mention the fact that my flower now looks like half its petals fell off!” Samantha yelled from the empty living room. “You’d better thank your lucky stars and stripes that I’m not currently mooning over a man because my vag could be considered a serious mood killer at the moment,” she continued to rail as she stomped through the condo.
Smiling, Molly lifted the bottle to her lips again and ignored the searing burn the alcohol left in her throat as she swallowed.
Samantha had officially arrived on the scene with her trademark verve. The party was now truly underway.