Yappy Hour by Diana Orgain Page B

Evie?”
    Through the window of the bar, I could see a crowd forming on the patio. Mrs. Clemens, Yolanda, and several of the crew from yesterday, including Brenda, Max, and their dogs. The door flung open and they poured into the bar like a waterfall, loud and continuous.
    Oh God! Was I ready for this?
    Brenda flanked the bar. “Two greyhounds! One for me and the other for Mrs. Clemens.”
    â€œHow about a pitcher of saltys?” Yolanda asked the group. “We can take it to a table.”
    The dogs swirled around, barking and sniffing. Max appeared behind the bar. “Do you need some assistance? I sometimes help Rachel out.”
    I refrained from throwing myself at him, but my voice said it all as I yelled a grateful “Yes!”
    He chuckled. “Okay, ladies, have a seat. I’ll bring the drinks.” He motioned to them and the throng backed away. The beagle poked its nose around the bar.
    â€œOh, I have your bunny,” I said to the beagle.
    The beagle kept his eyes on me while Max said, “Do you? Ah, Bowser and I wondered where that went.”
    I pulled the pink plush bunny out of my bag and tossed it to Bowser. He caught it midair, his tail swinging back and forth contentedly. After a moment, he dropped the bunny at Max’s feet. Max tossed the bunny on the floor near the table the gang had commandeered, and the beagle obediently went to be with the gang.
    I looked around at all the bottles and glasses and felt short of breath.
    Max studied my face. “It gets easier,” he said. “I tended bar in college.”
    I nodded numbly.
    â€œPitcher of salty dogs. Do you know how to make that?”
    â€œGreyhound with salt, right?”
    He smiled as he pulled a bottle of Stoli out from the rack. “That’s right.”
    I salted the rims of the glasses. “I thought this was a wine bar. Why all the fancy cocktails?”
    â€œAy, we usually drink wine only during the work week. Friday Yappy Hour kicks off our weekend celebrating. We love Rachel and the bar. It’s super that she provides a place for everyone to hang out with their pets … we missed her yesterday.”
    I nodded.
    He poured the vodka over ice and gave me a sidelong glance. “What happened yesterday, by the way?”
    I pressed my fingertips into my temples. It would be the never-ending question. Each person would ask me, one by one, until the news had snaked its way into every ear in Pacific Cove. I wondered if posting it on the Internet would be faster.
    Before I could say anything, Brenda, followed by her Chihuahua, made her way back to the bar. Max seemed to stand up straighter and puff out his chest. Brenda was dressed all in black save for a pair of teal Manolo Blahnik sandals.
    â€œMaggie, sorry to be a bother, but can I have a treat for Pee Wee?” Brenda asked. She picked up the small dog and stroked his ears. “We’ve been out all day and he’s been such a dear.”
    I grabbed a Bark Bite from the bowl nestled near the cash register. No sooner did I hand her one than all the dogs began sniffing widely and rushing over. I handed out treats to each one.
    Brenda patted her flat stomach. “How about for us? Any dogs in blankets ready?”
    I glanced at Max for help.
    â€œOh, we’ll get right on that,” Max said.
    Brenda wiggled her fingers at us and waltzed back to the crowded table. The band started up and the noise level increased, complete with the dogs barking to the Howling Hounds’ music.
    â€œI’m supposed to do food, too?” I asked Max.
    â€œOnly arf d’oeuvres,” he said.
    I rolled my eyes and he laughed.
    â€œDon’t sweat it. The dogs in blankets are just hot dogs rolled in mini-croissants. Rachel has a ton frozen in the back fridge. All you have to do is turn on the oven.”
    â€œThat I can handle,” I said, heading to the rear of the building and preheating the oven.
    I felt like an