The Other Wife

Norm leaned around to look at Harvey head-on. “Holy crap, it is. Harry the Dog.”

“Not Harry, silly. Harvey the Wonder Dog.”

At that, Harvey let out a yip of agreement. He sat up and begged, then did a twirl of a dance around the leather. I thanked God that he didn’t get too excited. I only had so many wet wipes.

“You own Harvey?” Norm asked, clearly impressed. I could have been Dolly Parton for all the awe I saw reflected in my rearview mirror. “That’s, like, cool, dude.”

“I only sort of own him.” I concentrated on getting the car back on the road, without being creamed by a passing double semi.

“Oh, Penny, don’t be so modest,” Susan said. “She’s Harvey’s mommy.”

Only because you dumped him on me, I thought but didn’t say. “We’re both his owners,” I said, giving Susan a friendly you’re-stuck-with-me-in-this-one smile.

“Dude, this dog is, like, famous.” Norm let out a low whistle. “No wonder you’re driving an M.B.”

“M.B.?” I said.

“Mercedes-Benz, dude. A rich chick’s car.”

I wasn’t rich, nor was I a chick, but I let it go. The green sign on my right promised the Tennessee state line was only another forty miles away. Pigeon Forge was another thirty from there. Soon, Norm and Rita would be gone, off to pursue fame and fortune at Dollywood.

Or maybe just ride the rides and leave with their ticket stubs and some disappointment.

“So, like, what kinda tricks can you make him do? Can you get him to do that thing where he opens a can? Man, if he could pop open a brewski, he’d be a damned handy dog.” Norm thought a second. “Though, it might be better if he could open the fridge and the brewski. Save me from getting off the couch.”

I didn’t say anything about his obvious underage status and the fact that he was already sofa surfing and drinking beer. Not to mention the example he’d be setting for his future child.

“So, what can you get him to do?” Norm asked again.

“Hello,” I said, annoyed and frustrated with my passengers, “I’m not really his—”

I caught sight of Harvey in the rearview mirror. He was standing on his back paws again, waving the two others at me.

“Cool. He waves.”

I’d said hello, the dog had started to wave. Coincidence or was Harvey listening to me? I opted for the first one.

“He’s such a cutie,” Rita said. “Do you know how old he is?”

“How old are you, Harvey?” I asked, half joking, figuring the dog would ignore me and go back to his crumb hunt. Instead, Harvey began pawing at the seat, almost tapping on it. Once, twice, three times…eight times total. “Eight,” I said, not sure I’d just seen the dog count, but maybe…

I mean, he was called Harvey the Wonder Dog. Wouldn’t he at least be able to tell how old he was? Dave had mentioned a few tricks in the journal, but overall he’d been pretty vague, mentioning things like Harvey’s A Routine and his C Routine, whatever those meant. Either way, it didn’t matter to me. Soon enough, Harvey—and his routines—would be Vinny’s problem.

“Oh my God!” Rita shrieked a second time.

“Don’t tell me that dog peed again.” My wet wipe supply was running low, along with my patience.

“Uh…no.” In the rearview mirror I saw Norm’s eyes grow wide as Rita began to curse and yell, grabbing at his hand. He held hers tight, their joined knuckles turning white, along with every feature in Norm’s face. “We gotta go to the hospital. I think Rita’s having the baby.”

At that she let out another scream and smacked him with her other hand. “Will you quit talking and just get this thing out of me?” She whipped her head around, glaring at Norm. “This is all your fault, you—”

Another scream, a third smack-down for the situation. Norm took it all, no complaint, but the color was a shade off in his face. “Dude, we gotta go faster.”

“You said she was only six months pregnant.” I swerved again, into the exit lane, narrowly avoiding a FedEx truck. My gaze darted to the roadside, praying for a little blue sign with an H.

Norm shrugged, cool as a cucumber. “What do I know? I failed math three times.”

CHAPTER 8

Pandemonium.

That word pretty much summed up the entire day. In Whitfield, we found a hospital, thank God, and brought in Norm and a nonstop screaming Rita. By the time we got there, she was full out thrashing and clutching at Norm and begging for drugs. I started calculating the chances she’d give birth on my backseat.

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