“And to top it off, Todd now wants custody of the dog.”
“You’re not going to let him, are you?”
“Of course not. But do I have a choice?”
“Well, I’m a patent attorney, not a pet attorney, but I’ll look into it for you,” she says. “Because that is a cause I can totally get behind. Project Dog Custody.”
I pull myself into a sitting position on her couch. “And I thought you weren’t fond of pets,” I tease.
“Not the ones that pee on my furniture. But the good ones, like Ms. Pac-Man? Yeah, I’ll help you win this battle, that’s for sure.”
I glance at the couch and the cushion I’ve been sitting on. “That’s not your way of telling me Chaucer peed right here?”
“No,” she says with a laugh.
“So, um, Hayden. Do you think I should just throw in the towel on the Trophy Husband thing?”
She gives me a rueful smile. “McKenna, I think you should do what makes you happy. Would it make you happy to throw in the towel?”
I shrug. I don’t have an answer. I don’t know what makes me happy except for the dog. “I think I’m going to go spend the rest of my night with my dog.”
I head home and Ms. Pac-Man is so excited to see me that I give her a kiss on her wet snout. She licks my cheek, a big, sloppy dog kiss, and I love it. “There is no way I will let anyone take you away from me,” I tell her, and I know she understands. I know she wants to be with me. She loves me unconditionally, and I love her the same.
I pat the side of my leg, her cue to trot along by my side as we head into my bedroom and over to the closet. “Let’s look at clothes for tomorrow’s shoot, shall we?” I say to my favorite creature.
She sits down and watches me as I survey my clothes, her eyes on me, her tail still wagging. I can’t resist. I bend down to pet her once more. The dog is kind of my soulmate, and maybe I will keep fighting the good fight. For her. I won’t let Todd win. Not when he’s throwing punches so far below the belt.
Chapter Seven
“So that makes me O-for-2 in the old Trophy Husband date department, so you know what I did after being told I should have my clothing approved? Call me crazy. Call me wild.” I lean into the camera and stage whisper. “I went online and bought myself some awesomely hot tops. Like this one!”
Then I let Andy pan over my shirt – a peach colored tee with ironed-on female superheroes like Wonder Woman and Bat Girl. It says Ladies Night on it. Then I share the shopping info with viewers. “Oh, and one last thing. I am totally striking out in the date department. I’m basically abysmal at dating. A total dating dork. So I might have to call this whole thing off, my fellow fashion hounds. Unless you can send some pretty young things my way, this girl is going to have to be over and out.”
I place my palms together in a plaintive sort of plea, then we stop rolling, and I exhale. Being the Fashion Hound requires my utmost focus on appearing upbeat, confident, sassy and totally kickass tough. I am take-no-prisoners on camera. But off-camera, I can be more of myself.
Andy and I begin our usual wrap-up routine. “How was it?”
He gives a cursory thumbs up, and walks out to his car, parked in front of my house. I follow him. He hasn’t gotten over his little snit fit from last week, evidently.
“Andy, can we get this sorted out please? I hate fighting with you. Can we go have a cup of coffee or something? Or come inside and have a Diet Coke?”
He doesn’t answer. But he doesn’t start the car either. Instead, he rests his hands on the steering wheel and stares off down the road, not looking at me. I seize the window of opportunity, the temporary break in the clouds. “You know, a Diet Coke? Were both junkies. It’ll be fine.”
He sighs heavily, then looks at me. “Maybe you shouldn’t spend all your life trying to make a point. Anyway, I have to go.”
But if I don’t make a point, then where would I be? Back in the bathroom of the diner I can’t go to anymore? Huddled in a stall, too scared, too embarrassed, too damn wrecked to leave?
I head inside and pull my phone from my back pocket. The message rush won’t start for an hour, but the habit is hard to break. I walk upstairs, thumb tapping in my password. I click on the envelope icon and once I do, I simply stop walking, stop moving, stop doing anything. I rub my eyes, sure I am seeing things. My inbox is bursting with 307 new messages. I wonder if I have an email virus, something that sends spam with abandon to my email address. But as I scroll down and scan the messages, most of them have similar headings: Re: Let the Wookie Win, Saw You on Wookie Win, From Let the Wookie Win.
Then I notice a few other subject lines: TH project, regarding trophy husband, I’m a candidate. “I click on an envelope icon and read a random note. “Hey there. Def interested in your quest. You need better guys! I am your man. Would love to see you anytime.”
I open the next one: “I could be your arm candy anytime.”
Then the next: “I have been waiting my whole life to be kept.”
Finally, I reach the top message in the queue. It reads: “Blame the Cat” in the subject line. I open it.
Hey there, McKenna. Has your neighbor’s cat caused any more trouble? If he has, you know where to find me. Also, I checked out your blog and I love your current thread, so I talked it up in my own show, Let the Wookie Win. You might get a few emails. Watch today’s episode and you’ll see why…
I let out a happy squeal, even though I have no idea what the episode is about. Then I look around to make sure my neighbors didn’t see or hear me. I return to the message, and I’m sure there’s a smile plastered on my face simply from seeing his name.
I hit play and watch the episode as he demos a car racing game, then shares some viewer tips from Call of Duty, analyzing each one. Chris finishes the moves and then says to the camera, “All right, I’ve heard you clamoring for another segment of Games People Play. For those of you new to the show, this is where we step away from the console, from the computer, and we talk about, well, you can figure it out from the title. This one, guys, you’re going to love. There’s a hot chick out there in the video blogosphere who’s looking for a man to keep. I know a lot of you are twenty-three or under and if you are, she wants to hear from you.”
He rolls into a clip from The Fashion Hound from a week or two ago when I first introduced the quest. Then the video cuts back to Chris and he says, “Dudes, don’t sit there and watch me any longer. Go pimp yourself to the cause, go get into the Trophy Husband sweepstakes. There’s a babe out there willing to put you up and all you have to do is look good. Just think, you can probably play games all day long. So go play this game and tune in tomorrow for the next episode of Let the Wookie Win, the one gaming rule you should always follow. Later.”