white silk blouse, suede blazer, and my one and only pair of Manolo Blahniks.
âSee you later, my little money maker!â I called out to Prozac as I headed for the door.
She looked up from where she was lolling on the sofa.
Donât forget. I want my five grand in bacon bits.
Fifteen minutes later, I was pulling up to the Peninsula Hotel valet parking area. Under normal circumstances, Iâd drive around endlessly looking for a spot on the street before forking over money for valet parking. Especially at an outrageously expensive joint like the Peninsula. But what the heck? Deedee was treating. For once, Iâd spring for valet parking.
The valet who ambled over eyed my ancient Corolla as if Iâd just driven up in a four-door cockroach.
âDeliveries in the back,â he said.
âI am not making a delivery,â I informed him with more than a hint of frost in my voice. âIâm here for lunch.â
Blinking back his disbelief, he reluctantly got in my car and zoomed off into the underground lot, no doubt determined to park deep in its bowels, in order to avoid contaminating any of the luxury cars.
I found Deedee out on the patio of the hotelâs garden restaurant, seated in a sun-dappled corner beneath a magnolia tree, waving to me merrily with a flute of champagne.
âJaine, darling!â she cried, bangles jangling. âSo wonderful to see you!â
Today she was swathed in neon green gauze, crystal necklaces twinkling on her bosom, gold lacquered chopsticks popping out from her bun.
âHave some bubbly, hon!â she said, pouring me a glass of Dom Pérignon. âHereâs to darling Prozac! Iâm going to make that adorable furball the biggest animal star since Morris the Cat!â
We clinked glasses and took a sip. Well, I took a sip. Deedee glugged hers down like a sailor on shore leave.
Having downed her bubbly, she poured herself some more and then handed me a menu.
âOrder whatever you want, sweetie. The skyâs the limit.â
I looked at the prices, eyeballs rolling. Would you believe twenty dollars for a burger? But that didnât stop me from ordering it. Deedee topped me by ordering a lobster salad. (A nosebleed expensive twenty-nine smackeroos!)
After our waiter left with our orders, Deedee whipped out a contract from her purse and slid it across the table to me.
âJust sign at the X s,â she said, flourishing a DEEDEE WALKER, AGENT TO THE ANIMAL STARS ballpoint pen.
I signed the contract, my eyes spinning in delight at the spot where Deedee had typed in my five-thousand-dollar payment.
Yes, indeedie. This was a Dom Pérignon day, all right.
The luncheon drifted by in a happy glow, Deedee yapping about her famous animal clients. (Lassieâs great-granddaughter. Benjiâs nephew. The cover parrot on Parrots Today magazine.) I just nodded on auto-pilot, scarfing down my burger and picturing the zeros on my paycheck.
In spite of the fact that sheâd been talking nonstop, somehow Deedee managed to inhale every last morsel of her lobster salad. Not to mention most of the champagne.
âBy the way,â she said when she finally ran out of animal stories, âthe Skinny Kitty people want you to stop by their offices today and pick up some cat food so you can rehearse Prozacâs eating scene at home.â
Five grand and free cat food. Life just kept getting better and better.
âWill do,â I assured her.
Finally, after sheâd practically licked the last drop of champagne from her flute, Deedee signaled our waiter.
âCheck please,â she trilled.
Minutes later the check appeared at our table on a tiny silver tray.
Deedee reached into her purse, and suddenly her eyes widened in dismay.
âOh, my dear!â she cried. âI canât believe it. Iâve left my wallet at home. How silly of me. You donât mind picking up the tab, do you, hon? Iâll pay you back
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