Page 10 of Charlie and Her Sweet Escape
“Where did that thing come from?” Garrison exclaimed. All common sense—if the man had any to begin with—must have fled, because he stomped toward the dog like he was going to grab it by the scruff.
I didn’t like the man, but that didn’t mean I wanted to see him get bit.
Not too much, anyway.
I rounded the table and grabbed him by the back of the suit coat. “Stop,” I said, my voice low and demanding. It was the same warning tone I used when someone was about to do something that might injure or kill them when we were out on a fishing excursion.
“Don’t hurt her!” a desperate female voice called out. Charlie raced into the room, wearing a tight white dress-thing and noshoes. Her hair was wild around her face as she weaved through the crowd until she stood beside me and Garrison. She had one hand on my arm, pushing as if holding me back, and the other hand on Garrison. “She’s hurting and scared.”
“Charlie!” Greg growled. “What is going on?” He stormed into the room, a pair of tall white heels dangling from his clenched fist.
“Molly,” she said softly to the dog. She got on her knees, and my heart jumped into my throat when the dog’s growling stare turned from Garrison to Charlie. One wrong move, and that dog was going to lunge. “It’s okay, sweetie,” she said.
The dog trembled against the wall.
“Can everyone back up slowly?” She tucked her long hair behind her ear with a shaky hand. “You’re making her feel boxed in and trapped.”
I shuffled backward, sticking close to Garrison. His hands were balled into fists. I didn’t trust him for a second. He was the kind of man who needed to be in control, and he wouldn’t care who got hurt to ensure he had it.
Charlie was magic with animals. I’d seen her calm down much more aggressive dogs than this, and she’d do it again. If one of the Millers didn’t ruin everything.
The problem was that the Millers had a tendency to ruin everything.
Charlie stretched her hand out, her fingers hanging limply down. “Hey, Molly. You’re okay. That’s a good girl. Bennett, find me something to wrap her in. Everyone else, leave the room.”
I spotted a plush blanket resting on the back of the couch. Mrs. Miller must have seen it at the same time as me, because we met at the back of the couch, each taking an end.
“This is a four-thousand-dollar chenille blanket,” she hissed, tugging harder.
I swore under my breath and dropped it like it bit me. Rich people were wild. I’d bet this blanket had never been used other than for decoration.
The dog growled, and Charlie’s voice trembled when she said, “Bennett?”
Forget it; stuff could be replaced. Even four-thousand-dollar stuff. I tugged the blanket from Mrs. Miller’s grip as she gasped, and I walked it carefully toward Charlie.
“Garrison, stop this,” Mrs. Miller hissed indignantly, but he was smart enough to stay in the doorway with Greg, their arms folded like fancy, overly paid bodyguards.
I handed the soft-as-anything-I’d-ever-touched blanket to Charlie with gentle movements. I’d been with Charlie on enough impromptu dog-rescue adventures over the years to know that steady and predictable movements were key to de-escalating a situation.
“Hey, sweet girl.” She scooted closer to Molly, who watched her carefully.
Garrison scoffed, and Molly twitched.
“Shhh,” I said, no louder than a breath.
Charlie inched closer.
“This is ridiculous!” Greg muttered, but it sounded explosive in the quiet room.
Molly’s upper lip rose in a snarl, and Charlie stilled.
“It’s fine. We’ll give it a second,” Charlie said with the kind of voice someone would use to read a bedtime story. She didn’t change her tone or look away from the dog when she continued, “Greg, you and your dad are making her nervous.”
Greg widened his stance as if he were planning on staying a while. He’d always been like this—tell him to do something, and he was compelled to do the opposite. It drove me nuts when we were on the softball field—and it had lost us more than one game, despite his wanting to blame everyone else.
Here, it was dangerous. “We need to trust Charlie.” Punching Greg, though satisfying, would be the opposite of de-escalation and might put Charlie at risk of getting hurt. The thought was enough for me to unclench my fists. I generally wasn’t a fighter, but Greg had a way of bringing it out in me.
“Bennett,” she said. “I’m going to wrap Molly up. She’s too big for me to carry, so you need to grab her after I’m done.”
