Amy finished her tea and dragged herself into the shower, turning the water on full force, letting it beat down on her shoulders. An overwhelming sadness constricted her throat, and she felt hot tears streaming down her cheeks, despite all efforts at controlling them. Love is the pits, she thought, slumping against the tile and sobbing, for the first time in her life understanding the term heartbroken. Why couldn’t it have worked just this once? Jake was the man of her dreams and Rhode Island Red had turned those dreams into a nightmare.
An hour later she taped a note to the refrigerator door. Dear Jake, Had to leave. Please water my plants. Love, Amy. She stared dully at the note. It was inadequate, but then life itself seemed inadequate right now. Maybe the note was appropriate. She’d crammed almost all of her clothes into the small car. Motley was waiting in the cat carrier on the front seat. Jake had his own house key. Nothing more left to do.
Jake threw the day’s paper on the unmade bed and zapped the TV with the remote. Five days since Amy left and not a word. It was crazy. She’d vanished. Poof. Just like Red. He was beginning to have weird thoughts, like, maybe the same people who took Red also took Amy. Maybe Amy had actually been the one who took Red and they were holed up in a motel room somewhere, together.
You’re a man on the edge, Jake, he told himself. You’re getting silly. Better silly than frantic, he decided. That’s how he actually felt deep down inside. Total panic. She was gone, and he couldn’t find her. What if she never came back?
Of course she’d come back. She was Ms. Responsibility. She’d come back to get her mail and pay her bills. She’d come back to retrieve her furniture. Would she come back to him? He kicked off his shoes and fell onto the bed. He didn’t even know why she left, and he was mad as hell that she hadn’t explained. She’d owed him an explanation, dammit. If he ever found her he was going to strangle her.
Undoubtedly this had something to do with the rooster mess. He had to admit, it’d been a crummy week. Business was bad. People were snapping at each other. And Amy felt it was all her fault.
He should have seen it coming, but he’d been too busy reassuring skeptical clients to take time to reassure Amy. Then there was that dumb shouting match the morning she’d left. He’d been insensitive, he decided. He hadn’t listened to her. She’d said she was leaving, and it had never occurred to him to take her seriously. Elliott, you’re a moron.
He flicked through several channels and sat bolt upright when the twenty-minute news show popped onto the screen. “… and that’s the story, folks. Amy Klasse has disappeared, leaving her fiancé without a word. One can only speculate as to her whereabouts and wonder at her motives.”
Jake threw the remote across the room, where it smashed against the wall. They were still at it! Wasn’t it enough that they’d driven her away? He banged his fist on the top of the TV and listened to the set crackle and die. Great. Now he was violent. He laced up his running shoes and hooked the leash onto Spot’s collar.
“Come on, dog. We need to walk.”
It was dawn when Jake stopped walking. He and Spot wearily made their way up the stairs and flopped into bed. An hour later the alarm rang. Jake staggered to the shower.
“Man, this sucks,” he said. “I’m falling apart. Look at me… I’m even talking to myself. Get a grip, Jake.”
He stared at himself in the mirror and didn’t like what he saw. Dark circles under his eyes. Two days of stubble. Unkempt hair. He looked like a street person. “You see what falling in love does to you?” he shouted at his reflection. “Women! They’ll ruin you. They make you crazy.”
He was still raving when he got to the office. Allen was sitting at the reception desk. “We need help,” Allen said. “The office is in chaos. I can’t find any files. We’re overbooked again.” He scowled at Jake. “And I hate your damn coffee.”
Jake scowled back. “So make your own damn coffee.”
“I hate mine even more than I hate yours. I like Amy’s coffee. Where the hell is she, anyway?”
Jake made a futile gesture.
Allen slumped in his seat. “I’m sorry. I got carried away. You look like death warmed over. Bad night?”
“Unh.”
Allen grinned and draped an arm around Jake’s shoulders. “She’ll be back. She loves you. And her cat is due for a rabies shot.”
Both men stiffened when the door opened and the twenty-minute news team walked in. “Did you see the show?” Ponytail asked. “Pretty good, huh? Real drama. Real pathos.”
“Real close to slander,” Jake said. “You have a lot of nerve showing up here this morning. I guess you like to live dangerously.”
Allen’s hand tightened on Jake’s shoulder. “Maybe you’d better leave,” Allen said. “Dr. Elliott hasn’t had his jelly doughnut yet. He can be pretty mean until he gets his jelly doughnut.”
Ponytail narrowed his eyes. “Hey, this wasn’t our idea. We got a call to come over here.”
Jake looked at Allen. “Did you call these slimeballs?”
“Not me.”
“It was a woman,” Ponytail said. “Real sexy voice, but sounded kind of dumb.”
Veronica Bottles minced through the door. “It was me.” Her breasts bounced unfettered behind a lime-green tank top as she tottered precariously on spike-heeled shoes. “Is my makeup okay?” she asked Ponytail. “I want to look good on TV.”
Ponytail looked surprised. “Who are you?”
Veronica stood tall, her nose slightly tipped toward the ceiling. “Veronica Bottles. I’m an actress, and I was Rhode Island Red’s trainer. Red and I were TV stars together.” She turned her heavily mascaraed eyes to Jake. “I’m really sorry about everything that’s happened. Is it true Lulu’s gone?”
Jake nodded.
“Gosh, it must have been love at first sight for you and Lulu. That’s so romantic. And so sad. Star-crossed lovers.” She sighed.
“I sure hope things work out for you,” she said to Jake. “I watched their show last night and I said to myself, Veronica, things have gone too far. Somebody’s gotta do something about this rooster business. Gee, people’s lives are being ruined. All over a silly old rooster.”
She knew about Red. Jake could feel it in his bones. He’d felt it all along, but now he knew. Patience, he cautioned himself. Deep breathing. “Um, do you know something about Red?”
“Of course, I know about Red. He was my rooster, for crying out loud.”
She turned to the newsmen. “Red and I were very close. We’d only known each other for a short time, but we were like family. He lived in my apartment, you know.”
“About Red,” Jake prompted. “I don’t suppose you’d know where he is now?”
Veronica blinked her huge black lashes. “I’m not sure. I suppose he’s where he’s always been. Unless somebody’s moved him. I was going to tell you that very first day, but there were all those newsmen and cameras and policemen. It never occurred to me you’d call the police. I mean, he was just a chicken! Then there was Brian Turner, the little weasel.”
“Ah ha, Turner was in on this, too. I knew it,” Jake said, shaking his finger at Allen.
“After I left Red here I got to feeling sorry for him. I got to thinking about how lonely he must be in a strange cage. Red always liked to watch TV at night and here he was with no one to talk to and no TV to watch. I came back to visit him, but there wasn’t anybody here, and the office was all locked up.”
“So you used a credit card to get in to see Red,” Jake said.
Allen grinned at Jake. “You sound like Maxwell Smart.”
“It was easy,” Veronica said. “I’m real good with credit cards. I’m always forgetting the keys to my apartment. Anyway, I let myself in the office. I didn’t think you’d mind. I even gave all the animals a drink of fresh water before I left.”