chapter one
Justine Becker held the base of the foot-long oblong pink dog toy in her fist, like she was swishing a sword at her employee. Her dog, Spencer, dropped into a play bow at her feet with a tongue-lolling grin, ready to give the new product a test-drive.
"Sienna, seriously?"
Sienna Fisher looked up from the packing slip and spit out the end of her dirty blond braid. "What? Dogs love that thing. USA made, no phthalates, natural rubber . . ." She trailed off when Justine started stroking the toy with an unmistakable up-and-down motion. "Oh my God, how did I miss that?"
"Yeah, I guess Tricks & Biscuits is now stocking dirty stuff with the dog toys. Remind me again why I let you take over ordering?" Justine laughed and shook her head as she peered inside the box and quickly counted the penis-shaped toys. "Two dozen? We have to sell twenty-four of these things? What will Mrs. Zwyicki think?"
Spencer stood on his hind legs and placed his front paws on the edge of the box, his feathered tail thumping against the bright blue counter as he leaned in and tried to grab one of the toys.
"Don't you worry, I'll sell the hell out of these. Give me a chance and I'll make them go viral," Sienna said.
"I know you will, and that's the only reason I'm not returning the order."
Sienna whistled to Spencer. "Hey, Spence, you wanna take some PG-13 pics?"
Justine peeked at the invoice total and felt a wave of relief wash over her when she saw the "net 30" stamp. She'd stretch it to "net 45" with apologies and promises to be better next time, but she'd make sure they eventually got paid, like every other vendor. Three years in business and she'd become an expert at juggling funds that didn't exist. She felt lucky she could afford to have Sienna on the payroll for twenty hours per week. The boho twentysomething's Birkenstocks and flowy skirts camouflaged a talent for CEO-level strategizing, and her growing pet-sitting business, Like Family, almost kept her busy enough to not need the hours in the shop.
"Are you ready to talk about my big plans yet?" Sienna asked with an overwide smile on her pretty, angular face. "T&B will be so much more profit--" She stopped abruptly and cleared her throat. "We'll have more, uh, more growth, if you go for it."
Justine leaned back against the exposed brick wall next to the leash and collar display and crossed her arms. Sienna kept pushing her to move to all-natural product lines and add an online shop, convinced that the changes would be enough to reverse Tricks & Biscuits' flatlining. But her suggestions didn't come cheap. Natural products meant higher price tags, and creating an e-commerce site would set Justine back a few grand that the store didn't have. She was embarrassed that her employee was more gung ho about profitability than she was, but Sienna didn't know the tap dancing Justine was doing behind the scenes at T&B. The three nearly maxed-out credit cards and the past-due calls she occasionally got from her dog food distributor kept her awake at night, but she didn't want to burden Sienna with the details.
"Can we talk about it later?" Justine asked. "I'm starving; I'm going to run to Monty's real quick."
"Are you bringing it back or eating there?"
Justine could tell by Sienna's expression that she was eager to start brainstorming, what with the steady rain outside and the lack of humans or canines walking in the door. It didn't matter what she was about to suggest they try; Justine would still feel like she was using a teaspoon to bail out her sinking ship.
"I think I'm going to eat there. Maybe the rain will let up by the time I get back and we'll actually get some customers in here. Want me to bring you something?"
"Nope, I've got my famous quinoa-and-broccoli bowl." Sienna paused when Justine grimaced. "Oh yeah, the smell. I totally forgot. I'll light a candle, promise." She held three fingers in the air like a Boy Scout.
"The vanilla one, please. Vanilla makes people hungry, and hungry people buy dog biscuits." Justine paused. "If anyone would come in."
"The rain is going to stop; I can feel it in my bones," Sienna said, wiggling her fingers in front of her like she was casting a spell. "And this little lag means I'll have a chance to get everything unpacked for the weekend. There are two more boxes in back. I went a little crazy because you can't sell what you don't have. And I'd love to get my hands on your messy office. Hold on--maybe I'll sage the place too! That's even better than a candle."
"Whatever you think is most important, do that. I trust you."
Justine felt a wave of gratitude for Sienna the witch goddess. Her positivity was the only thing keeping Justine from flipping the closed sign for good. That and the shop's core of loyal supporters, who told her, in one way or another, that the little dog-friendly shop was their happy place. Every time she imagined shutting T&B, she pictured customers like lonely widower Frank Mancini, who held court at the counter every Saturday morning with an everything bagel and his Yorkie named Flossie. Or Miranda Leahy and her son Brandon, who at seven was still nonverbal, but who chattered his own language with every dog that walked through the door. The shop was in free fall, but no one, from her customers to Sienna, had a clue.
"Hey, I forgot to tell you that Seth stopped by looking for the lease. Have you signed it?" Sienna asked.
Justine shook her head. "Not yet."
Putting her signature on the lease meant three more years of financial gymnastics. Three more years behind the counter.
And three more years of trying to figure out what the hell she was actually doing with her life.
"Spence, c'mon," Justine called to her dog, who was still halfway in the box eyeing the questionable new toys. He hopped out in a single bound and trotted to her.
"Seth didn't seem mad or anything, but he wants to talk to you," Sienna added. "Is everything okay?"
Justine flushed, remembering how she'd asked her landlord for a payment extension the prior month. He probably wanted to revoke her option to renew.
Which wouldn't be the worst thing.
"Everything is fine," she lied as she clipped the leash on Spencer and grabbed her Dalmatian-print umbrella. "I'll be back in a bit. Good luck dealing with the crowds." She gestured around the empty store with the tip of her umbrella.
"I'll run it like I own it!" Sienna replied with a salute.
chapter two
Spencer trotted along glued to Justine's side beneath the umbrella, doing his best to avoid getting hit by a single raindrop. It was one of those cold early fall days that were a coming attraction of the ugly season to come. Justine wished she was in bed under a down blanket with a book, a mug of hot tea, and Spencer curled behind her knees.
"You love to swim; why do you hate the rain so much?" Justine reached down to scratch her dog's scruffy head. He looked adorable in her friend Ruth's latest creation, a navy bow tie with a tiny repeating hedgehog pattern. Spencer glanced up at her and held her gaze for a few steps, and Justine's heart swelled Grinch-style. "Spence, you are the most amazing dog. Do you know that? How did I get so lucky?"
He wagged back at her as they paused beneath the awning outside Monty's.
"Shake off, bud," Justine said. Spencer obliged, getting rid of any rain that had settled on his fur and making it stand up in little peaks all over his body. She nodded at him. "Better. But you still need a bath and a trim. You're a mess."
Sometimes, when the wiry fur above his eyebrows and the wisps of his beard got too long, Spencer looked like a friendly wizard. People always tried to guess what he was and suggested everything from an Irish terrier mix to an obscure German breed called a KromfohrlŠnder. Justine was occasionally tempted to do a DNA test on him, to try to figure out where his soulful black eyes came from, and which breed was responsible for his mix of tenacity and goofiness. But in the end she decided that she liked not knowing. All that mattered was that they belonged to each other.
Their love affair had begun a year prior when she'd found Spencer's Petfinder post, after losing her beloved but anxiety-ridden shepherd mix, Flynn. Justine hadn't been actively looking for a dog, but he'd found her just the same.
I'm yours, his expression in the photo seemed to say. Meant to be.
At their first introduction he'd run to her like they were meeting at the top of the Empire State Building at midnight, like he knew that Justine was his person. Even the volunteer from the rescue had been shocked by the immediate connection between them. It wasn't love at first sight; it was flat-out mutual obsession.
Justine fumbled in her pocket for the quarter-sized key fob to unlock the door to the private dining club as a couple with a child in a stroller approached her tentatively.
"Is this Monty's?" the woman asked, pointing to the old brick building. "I read that there's no sign outside, but I think this is the place."
"It is," Justine said with a winning smile. "Are you a new member?"
She shook her head. "No, we're just visiting for the weekend, but we were hoping we'd be able to eat here. We've read such wonderful things about it."
"Oh, so sorry. Monty's is a members-only club for locals. But Sweet Oven is wonderful." She pointed to the restaurant half a block away.
Having to turn away weekenders at Monty's locked door was a regular occurrence, since Rexford bridged several worlds. First there were the crunchy, tree-hugging locals who had claimed the area as an artistic retreat in the 1960s. Then there were the tourists, who hogged parking spots, crowded the hiking trails, and kept the restaurants busy every weekend. And more recently, the "escape from New York" new-money folks who built weekend "cottages" and infused the area with artisanal bread shops and higher property values. It was a delicate ecosystem, but it worked.
As much as Justine loved her adopted hometown and was tempted to put down real roots, sometimes it made her feel claustrophobic. Anytime she wanted to gossip in public she'd crane her neck to make sure no one was within eavesdropping distance. Her mailman Bruce's wife was the receptionist at her gynecologist's office, so when Bruce dropped off Justine's mail he'd put her annual pap appointment reminder postcard on top of the stack, wink at her, and say, "Going to see Phyllis soon, are ya?" Rexford was like a cooler, more diverse Hallmark town, but it still felt like it wasn't enough for Justine.
It was her mom's fault. Four states before she'd even hit high school meant that she had wanderlust in her blood. Justine had loved trying on new locations together to see if they'd finally found "the one." East Coast, Midwest, West Coast; they found something to love in each state. Her mom's final move to Phoenix had happened while Justine was in college, and at first she was bummed that she couldn't experience desert life, but her visits there convinced Justine that she was an East Coaster through and through. Their magical time together in Connecticut during her elementary school years had left an imprint on Justine's heart, and she knew she needed the change of seasons to feel at home.
She just wasn't sure that Rexford was her forever.
Justine peeked around the mostly empty restaurant and spied Monty herself seated at a table in the corner with two other people, deep in conversation. Luis waved his spatula at Justine from the open kitchen. She could smell something smoky and oniony on the griddle.
"Hey, Luis, we just need a quick lunch; I know it's late."
"No problem, Justine, sit," he said, pronouncing her name with a soft hus. "Nice bow tie, Spencer. How's he doing?"
"Soaking wet. Sorry, we're going to stink up the joint."
"I just burned the boss lady's fish tacos. I think wet-dog smell is better."
Luis met her at the counter and Spencer's tail thumped in anticipation of getting something greasy from him. "What can I make for you?" He slipped Spencer a piece of bacon.
"Falafel wrap, please. We're going to eat here. Your girlfriend is holding down the shop."
Luis closed his eyes and sighed. "If only . . ."
"Why don't you just ask her out already? You've been in love with Sienna since the day you came to town. She's single; you're single. It's getting stupid, Luis."
"I will, I will. I just need to be ready, okay?" He widened his eyes at her like she was asking him to cliff dive instead of asking out a woman who was secretly just as hot for him.
If she wasn't on a dating hiatus and was just a few years out of college like Sienna, Justine would pounce on Luis herself. His black eyes and full sleeve of tattoos on a ripped arm made him look like he was the naughty boyfriend in a telenovela, but he was teddy-bear sweet. Add in his skills in the kitchen and he was basically the perfect man. Justine had held true to her promise not to tell Sienna that Luis was pining for her, but her patience was running out.
"Have you taught him anything new?" Luis nodded at Spencer.
"Always. Check it out." Justine stood up and sped Spencer through a series of tricks, including an impressive "pawstand," which was a handstand on paws. As she finished she noticed that Monty and her tablemates were watching and realized that one of them was Monty's daughter, Taylor.
"When did Taylor get to town?" she whispered to Luis when she sat down again.
"Yesterday. And that's the director of her new show, Ted-something," he whispered back. "That prohibition series she's doing. They're staying at Monty's farm for the weekend." He walked into the kitchen to start her lunch.
Monty Volkov had been a model turned muse for the Sonic Dukes in the early '80s, when Russian glamazons dominated magazine covers. She'd let her chestnut hair go silver, but her cheekbones were still as sharp as her wit, and no one could mistake the green eyes that cemented her place as rock-and-roll royalty. She'd claimed a writer's credit on the band's most successful song, "Her Eyes," and used the money she made from it to open her first restaurant in SoHo. A well-deserved Michelin two-star award and twenty years later, Monty decamped to a sprawling lavender farm in Rexford to simplify. Her daughter had thankfully inherited more of her mother's genes than her meth head-skinny rocker father's and was a rising star in Hollywood. She found her way back to Rexford after breakups and in between projects.
"Impressive," Monty said in her commanding voice from the table in the corner. The man in a baseball cap and sunglasses sitting with her nodded. "What else can he do?"
Even though Justine considered Monty an acquaintance-friend, she still got a little nervous when the Russian wolf singled her out, especially when she was with her famous friends and family. She ran her hand over her hair self-consciously, pissed that the chin-length bob wasn't growing out fast enough. Whenever she was around Monty and her people she felt like a bumpkin.
"Tell me what you want to see and he'll do it," Justine said with a smile.
"Show her how Spencer does that bell trick." Luis jogged from the kitchen and placed a deli bell on the edge of the counter. "Do it, she'll love it."
Justine felt silly interrupting what was surely some sort of important strategy session with Taylor but knew she couldn't refuse. "Hey, Spence." He looked up at her. "Service, please."
Spencer stood on his hind legs and danced in place, trying to gauge if he was tall enough to reach the bell with his paw. When he realized he couldn't, he sat down for a second, then launched himself onto a stool, placed one paw on the edge of the counter, then delicately rang the bell with his other.
chapter one
Justine Becker held the base of the foot-long oblong pink dog toy in her fist, like she was swishing a sword at her employee. Her dog, Spencer, dropped into a play bow at her feet with a tongue-lolling grin, ready to give the new product a test-drive.
"Sienna, seriously?"
Sienna Fisher looked up from the packing slip and spit out the end of her dirty blond braid. "What? Dogs love that thing. USA made, no phthalates, natural rubber . . ." She trailed off when Justine started stroking the toy with an unmistakable up-and-down motion. "Oh my God, how did I miss that?"
"Yeah, I guess Tricks & Biscuits is now stocking dirty stuff with the dog toys. Remind me again why I let you take over ordering?" Justine laughed and shook her head as she peered inside the box and quickly counted the penis-shaped toys. "Two dozen? We have to sell twenty-four of these things? What will Mrs. Zwyicki think?"
Spencer stood on his hind legs and placed his front paws on the edge of the box, his feathered tail thumping against the bright blue counter as he leaned in and tried to grab one of the toys.
"Don't you worry, I'll sell the hell out of these. Give me a chance and I'll make them go viral," Sienna said.
"I know you will, and that's the only reason I'm not returning the order."
Sienna whistled to Spencer. "Hey, Spence, you wanna take some PG-13 pics?"
Justine peeked at the invoice total and felt a wave of relief wash over her when she saw the "net 30" stamp. She'd stretch it to "net 45" with apologies and promises to be better next time, but she'd make sure they eventually got paid, like every other vendor. Three years in business and she'd become an expert at juggling funds that didn't exist. She felt lucky she could afford to have Sienna on the payroll for twenty hours per week. The boho twentysomething's Birkenstocks and flowy skirts camouflaged a talent for CEO-level strategizing, and her growing pet-sitting business, Like Family, almost kept her busy enough to not need the hours in the shop.
"Are you ready to talk about my big plans yet?" Sienna asked with an overwide smile on her pretty, angular face. "T&B will be so much more profit--" She stopped abruptly and cleared her throat. "We'll have more, uh, more growth, if you go for it."
Justine leaned back against the exposed brick wall next to the leash and collar display and crossed her arms. Sienna kept pushing her to move to all-natural product lines and add an online shop, convinced that the changes would be enough to reverse Tricks & Biscuits' flatlining. But her suggestions didn't come cheap. Natural products meant higher price tags, and creating an e-commerce site would set Justine back a few grand that the store didn't have. She was embarrassed that her employee was more gung ho about profitability than she was, but Sienna didn't know the tap dancing Justine was doing behind the scenes at T&B. The three nearly maxed-out credit cards and the past-due calls she occasionally got from her dog food distributor kept her awake at night, but she didn't want to burden Sienna with the details.
"Can we talk about it later?" Justine asked. "I'm starving; I'm going to run to Monty's real quick."
"Are you bringing it back or eating there?"
Justine could tell by Sienna's expression that she was eager to start brainstorming, what with the steady rain outside and the lack of humans or canines walking in the door. It didn't matter what she was about to suggest they try; Justine would still feel like she was using a teaspoon to bail out her sinking ship.
"I think I'm going to eat there. Maybe the rain will let up by the time I get back and we'll actually get some customers in here. Want me to bring you something?"
"Nope, I've got my famous quinoa-and-broccoli bowl." Sienna paused when Justine grimaced. "Oh yeah, the smell. I totally forgot. I'll light a candle, promise." She held three fingers in the air like a Boy Scout.
"The vanilla one, please. Vanilla makes people hungry, and hungry people buy dog biscuits." Justine paused. "If anyone would come in."
"The rain is going to stop; I can feel it in my bones," Sienna said, wiggling her fingers in front of her like she was casting a spell. "And this little lag means I'll have a chance to get everything unpacked for the weekend. There are two more boxes in back. I went a little crazy because you can't sell what you don't have. And I'd love to get my hands on your messy office. Hold on--maybe I'll sage the place too! That's even better than a candle."
"Whatever you think is most important, do that. I trust you."
Justine felt a wave of gratitude for Sienna the witch goddess. Her positivity was the only thing keeping Justine from flipping the closed sign for good. That and the shop's core of loyal supporters, who told her, in one way or another, that the little dog-friendly shop was their happy place. Every time she imagined shutting T&B, she pictured customers like lonely widower Frank Mancini, who held court at the counter every Saturday morning with an everything bagel and his Yorkie named Flossie. Or Miranda Leahy and her son Brandon, who at seven was still nonverbal, but who chattered his own language with every dog that walked through the door. The shop was in free fall, but no one, from her customers to Sienna, had a clue.
"Hey, I forgot to tell you that Seth stopped by looking for the lease. Have you signed it?" Sienna asked.
Justine shook her head. "Not yet."
Putting her signature on the lease meant three more years of financial gymnastics. Three more years behind the counter.
And three more years of trying to figure out what the hell she was actually doing with her life.
"Spence, c'mon," Justine called to her dog, who was still halfway in the box eyeing the questionable new toys. He hopped out in a single bound and trotted to her.
"Seth didn't seem mad or anything, but he wants to talk to you," Sienna added. "Is everything okay?"
Justine flushed, remembering how she'd asked her landlord for a payment extension the prior month. He probably wanted to revoke her option to renew.
Which wouldn't be the worst thing.
"Everything is fine," she lied as she clipped the leash on Spencer and grabbed her Dalmatian-print umbrella. "I'll be back in a bit. Good luck dealing with the crowds." She gestured around the empty store with the tip of her umbrella.
"I'll run it like I own it!" Sienna replied with a salute.
chapter two
Spencer trotted along glued to Justine's side beneath the umbrella, doing his best to avoid getting hit by a single raindrop. It was one of those cold early fall days that were a coming attraction of the ugly season to come. Justine wished she was in bed under a down blanket with a book, a mug of hot tea, and Spencer curled behind her knees.
"You love to swim; why do you hate the rain so much?" Justine reached down to scratch her dog's scruffy head. He looked adorable in her friend Ruth's latest creation, a navy bow tie with a tiny repeating hedgehog pattern. Spencer glanced up at her and held her gaze for a few steps, and Justine's heart swelled Grinch-style. "Spence, you are the most amazing dog. Do you know that? How did I get so lucky?"
He wagged back at her as they paused beneath the awning outside Monty's.
"Shake off, bud," Justine said. Spencer obliged, getting rid of any rain that had settled on his fur and making it stand up in little peaks all over his body. She nodded at him. "Better. But you still need a bath and a trim. You're a mess."
Sometimes, when the wiry fur above his eyebrows and the wisps of his beard got too long, Spencer looked like a friendly wizard. People always tried to guess what he was and suggested everything from an Irish terrier mix to an obscure German breed called a KromfohrlŠnder. Justine was occasionally tempted to do a DNA test on him, to try to figure out where his soulful black eyes came from, and which breed was responsible for his mix of tenacity and goofiness. But in the end she decided that she liked not knowing. All that mattered was that they belonged to each other.
Their love affair had begun a year prior when she'd found Spencer's Petfinder post, after losing her beloved but anxiety-ridden shepherd mix, Flynn. Justine hadn't been actively looking for a dog, but he'd found her just the same.
I'm yours, his expression in the photo seemed to say. Meant to be.
At their first introduction he'd run to her like they were meeting at the top of the Empire State Building at midnight, like he knew that Justine was his person. Even the volunteer from the rescue had been shocked by the immediate connection between them. It wasn't love at first sight; it was flat-out mutual obsession.
Justine fumbled in her pocket for the quarter-sized key fob to unlock the door to the private dining club as a couple with a child in a stroller approached her tentatively.
"Is this Monty's?" the woman asked, pointing to the old brick building. "I read that there's no sign outside, but I think this is the place."
"It is," Justine said with a winning smile. "Are you a new member?"
She shook her head. "No, we're just visiting for the weekend, but we were hoping we'd be able to eat here. We've read such wonderful things about it."
"Oh, so sorry. Monty's is a members-only club for locals. But Sweet Oven is wonderful." She pointed to the restaurant half a block away.
Having to turn away weekenders at Monty's locked door was a regular occurrence, since Rexford bridged several worlds. First there were the crunchy, tree-hugging locals who had claimed the area as an artistic retreat in the 1960s. Then there were the tourists, who hogged parking spots, crowded the hiking trails, and kept the restaurants busy every weekend. And more recently, the "escape from New York" new-money folks who built weekend "cottages" and infused the area with artisanal bread shops and higher property values. It was a delicate ecosystem, but it worked.
As much as Justine loved her adopted hometown and was tempted to put down real roots, sometimes it made her feel claustrophobic. Anytime she wanted to gossip in public she'd crane her neck to make sure no one was within eavesdropping distance. Her mailman Bruce's wife was the receptionist at her gynecologist's office, so when Bruce dropped off Justine's mail he'd put her annual pap appointment reminder postcard on top of the stack, wink at her, and say, "Going to see Phyllis soon, are ya?" Rexford was like a cooler, more diverse Hallmark town, but it still felt like it wasn't enough for Justine.
It was her mom's fault. Four states before she'd even hit high school meant that she had wanderlust in her blood. Justine had loved trying on new locations together to see if they'd finally found "the one." East Coast, Midwest, West Coast; they found something to love in each state. Her mom's final move to Phoenix had happened while Justine was in college, and at first she was bummed that she couldn't experience desert life, but her visits there convinced Justine that she was an East Coaster through and through. Their magical time together in Connecticut during her elementary school years had left an imprint on Justine's heart, and she knew she needed the change of seasons to feel at home.
She just wasn't sure that Rexford was her forever.
Justine peeked around the mostly empty restaurant and spied Monty herself seated at a table in the corner with two other people, deep in conversation. Luis waved his spatula at Justine from the open kitchen. She could smell something smoky and oniony on the griddle.
"Hey, Luis, we just need a quick lunch; I know it's late."
"No problem, Justine, sit," he said, pronouncing her name with a soft hus. "Nice bow tie, Spencer. How's he doing?"
"Soaking wet. Sorry, we're going to stink up the joint."
"I just burned the boss lady's fish tacos. I think wet-dog smell is better."
Luis met her at the counter and Spencer's tail thumped in anticipation of getting something greasy from him. "What can I make for you?" He slipped Spencer a piece of bacon.
"Falafel wrap, please. We're going to eat here. Your girlfriend is holding down the shop."
Luis closed his eyes and sighed. "If only . . ."
"Why don't you just ask her out already? You've been in love with Sienna since the day you came to town. She's single; you're single. It's getting stupid, Luis."
"I will, I will. I just need to be ready, okay?" He widened his eyes at her like she was asking him to cliff dive instead of asking out a woman who was secretly just as hot for him.
If she wasn't on a dating hiatus and was just a few years out of college like Sienna, Justine would pounce on Luis herself. His black eyes and full sleeve of tattoos on a ripped arm made him look like he was the naughty boyfriend in a telenovela, but he was teddy-bear sweet. Add in his skills in the kitchen and he was basically the perfect man. Justine had held true to her promise not to tell Sienna that Luis was pining for her, but her patience was running out.
"Have you taught him anything new?" Luis nodded at Spencer.
"Always. Check it out." Justine stood up and sped Spencer through a series of tricks, including an impressive "pawstand," which was a handstand on paws. As she finished she noticed that Monty and her tablemates were watching and realized that one of them was Monty's daughter, Taylor.
"When did Taylor get to town?" she whispered to Luis when she sat down again.
"Yesterday. And that's the director of her new show, Ted-something," he whispered back. "That prohibition series she's doing. They're staying at Monty's farm for the weekend." He walked into the kitchen to start her lunch.
Monty Volkov had been a model turned muse for the Sonic Dukes in the early '80s, when Russian glamazons dominated magazine covers. She'd let her chestnut hair go silver, but her cheekbones were still as sharp as her wit, and no one could mistake the green eyes that cemented her place as rock-and-roll royalty. She'd claimed a writer's credit on the band's most successful song, "Her Eyes," and used the money she made from it to open her first restaurant in SoHo. A well-deserved Michelin two-star award and twenty years later, Monty decamped to a sprawling lavender farm in Rexford to simplify. Her daughter had thankfully inherited more of her mother's genes than her meth head-skinny rocker father's and was a rising star in Hollywood. She found her way back to Rexford after breakups and in between projects.
"Impressive," Monty said in her commanding voice from the table in the corner. The man in a baseball cap and sunglasses sitting with her nodded. "What else can he do?"
Even though Justine considered Monty an acquaintance-friend, she still got a little nervous when the Russian wolf singled her out, especially when she was with her famous friends and family. She ran her hand over her hair self-consciously, pissed that the chin-length bob wasn't growing out fast enough. Whenever she was around Monty and her people she felt like a bumpkin.
"Tell me what you want to see and he'll do it," Justine said with a smile.
"Show her how Spencer does that bell trick." Luis jogged from the kitchen and placed a deli bell on the edge of the counter. "Do it, she'll love it."
Justine felt silly interrupting what was surely some sort of important strategy session with Taylor but knew she couldn't refuse. "Hey, Spence." He looked up at her. "Service, please."
Spencer stood on his hind legs and danced in place, trying to gauge if he was tall enough to reach the bell with his paw. When he realized he couldn't, he sat down for a second, then launched himself onto a stool, placed one paw on the edge of the counter, then delicately rang the bell with his other.
