Читать книгу Delirious - Daniel James Palmer - Страница 8

Monte eased himself out of his cozy bed, stretched while yawning, then crawled from underneath the expansive oak desk and lazily made his way over to Charlie. Charlie, leash in hand, looked down at his tricolored beagle and couldn’t resist a smile.

“Who heard me getting his leash, huh?” Charlie asked, scratching Monte in his favorite place behind his ears.

With his tail wagging full speed, Monte looked longingly up at Charlie, his inky eyes pleading for a quick start to their morning walk. Charlie, who didn’t even own a plant before he brought Monte home from the breeder, now couldn’t imagine life without his faithful friend. Named after jazz guitar great Wes Montgomery, and in honor of his lifelong passion for the art form, Monte wouldn’t have come to be had Charlie not been such a lousy boyfriend. It was Gwen, his last in a string of short-lived relationships, who suggested that Charlie’s rigid routines and dislike of, as she put it, “messy emotions” made him a better candidate for a dog than a girlfriend. She packed up what few things she kept at his loft apartment, and on one rainy Saturday morning she was gone.

Charlie, who had left as many girlfriends as had left him, wasn’t one to dwell on the past or wallow in self-pity. Instead, intrigued by her suggestion, Charlie spent the next several hours researching dog breeds on the Web, until he finally settled on the beagle. It was a good-size dog for an apartment, he reasoned. Short hair meant less shedding, tipping the scale away from the Labrador breed. He briefly contemplated a poodle, with its hair coat and cunning intellect, but couldn’t get the image of the groomed poodle pouf out of his mind. He found a breeder only a few miles down the road, made a quick call, and minutes later was surrounded by a litter of feisty beagle puppies, each yipping for his attention.

Monte was an older dog and seemed to be above the attention-getting tactics of the young pups. He sat quietly in a corner of the breeder’s living room while Charlie picked up and put down puppy after puppy.

“What about that one?” Charlie asked, pointing to the quiet dog in the corner.

“Him?” the breeder replied, somewhat incredulous. “I rescued that little one from the pound. They warned me he liked to chew on things, but I never figured he’d gnaw enough of my shoes to fill up a Dumpster. Still, he’s been a good dog. You can tell by the eyes sometimes. The good ones, that is. We always hoped somebody would want to give him a home, but most of our clients are interested in the pups. Then again…” Her voice trailed off.

“What?” Charlie asked.

“Well, I’m guessing that you’re single, or you’d be here with somebody making this decision. And if you’re single, you’re probably working, maybe a lot. And I can see that you keep in shape, so I’m guessing you take good care of yourself and that takes time. Perhaps you’re not really a puppy guy, after all. I mean, they are loads of extra work.”

Charlie nodded as he took it all in. He wore his sandy brown hair in nearly a military crop, and his ice blue eyes were framed by oval, matte silver wire-rimmed glasses. Nothing about Charlie’s appearance suggested he had the easygoing personality of a puppy man.

“Perhaps,” was all he said.

“And if you’re single and busy,” the breeder continued, “an older dog might actually be best. He’s only three, but that’s a good age for a beagle, long past pup. Look, if you want that dog, he’s yours. In fact, you’d be doing me a favor. He’s a good boy, just a bit unruly is all.”

Charlie glanced over at Monte, who, as if knowing their destinies were somehow linked, rose, walked over to him, and lay quietly at Charlie’s feet. Charlie bent down to pet his new dog.

“Seems gentle enough to me,” Charlie offered. Fifteen minutes, a modest fee, and a few signed papers later, Charlie and the soon-to-be-named Monte went outside for their first walk as guy and dog. Gwen would have been proud, impressed even, at Charlie’s capacity to love and care for something other than Charlie. Monte’s shedding turned out to be more endearing than it was annoying. It was a gentle reminder that he was sharing his life with another living being.

If anything, Monte taught Charlie that his capacity to love was far deeper than he had known, and if Gwen were at all interested in trying again, she might find a very different and a far more fulfilling relationship. But she had moved on, and Charlie had yet to find another woman who compared.

In the three years since adopting him, the only consistent part of Charlie’s life had been Monte. His start-up electronics company had continued to grow at a frenetic pace until, after much courting, it was finally acquired by electronics giant SoluCent. As part of the acquisition deal, Charlie became a senior director at SoluCent and was then forced to shutter his office and move all operations east.

Both Charlie and Monte had grown accustomed to spending the workday together. As a result, Charlie was the only employee at SoluCent allowed to bring a dog to the office. As pets, per company policy, were prohibited on campus, those who had been vocal to HR about Charlie’s special treatment had been told only that it was part of the acquisition deal and that a special provision had been worked into Charlie’s employment contract, approved by SoluCent CEO Leon Yardley himself.

Since it was a widely held belief that Charlie’s product and new department would be a significant boon to SoluCent’s bottom line, and would fatten an already healthy stock price, that explanation proved satisfactory for most. Charlie, who stood six foot two, and Monte, who was all of fourteen inches high, were now as much a part of SoluCent as the carpeting upon which they walked. But as familiar a pair as they were, Monte was also a symbol to others that Charlie was not really one of them. He was special. And he was treated that way.

Eager for his morning walk, Monte let out a quiet, but excited yip a mere ten seconds before Charlie’s Tag Heuer watch alarm and meeting reminder sounded. Apparently Monte’s internal clock, Charlie marveled, had the same precision as a high-end timepiece. Charlie fixed the leash to Monte’s collar and made his way along the carpeted corridors through a maze of quiet cubicles, on his way to the front entrance of the SoluCent Omni 2 building. His team would be waiting for him there, on time as always—just as he insisted.

Charlie had once prided himself on the anxiety and dread his Monday morning meetings inspired, mistaking fear for efficiency. Now there was not a member of his team who would deny that bringing Monte into the picture had lessened the intensity and anxiety of the Monday meetings. Lessened, though not eliminated. Not in the least. “What’s good for the heart is good for the mind and that means good for business,” Charlie had often explained to those curious about his team’s ritual Monday morning group walk. But today business wasn’t so good. No, it wasn’t good at all.