Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Lexi
“Okay,” Gray said, tapping the map on her phone and putting it into the GPS. “Nearest shelter is about ten miles away. Let’s go.”
We followed a narrow, wooded road that dead-ended at the tiny shelter. We climbed out of the car to find a handwritten note taped to the glass door that read, Out for the day. Please leave animals in the covered kennel around back.
“Oh, great,” I muttered. I walked over to the covered kennel.
It was empty, but the wire fencing looked like it should be sheltering chickens, not a golden retriever.
And the area was small, though it did have a sheet metal awning angling out from the building that would provide some protection from the elements. That was it.
Basia peered over my shoulder and gasped. “Absolutely not,” she said, crossing her arms. “We’re not leaving Ginger here. She deserves better.”
“There’s only one kennel?” I asked in disbelief. “They just stick all the animals in one kennel?”
“This is a pretty small shelter,” Gray observed. “Maybe they don’t get that many after-hours drop-offs.”
“That’s not even remotely logical,” I argued. “What if we leave Ginger and someone brings in a lost cat? Fights could break out if they’re all cooped up here together and don’t get along. It could be a disaster.”
“That settles it for me,” Gwen said. “We’re not leaving Ginger here.”
Gray sighed and furrowed her brows. “I guess we can try to find another shelter nearer to Atlantic City. If Ginger is chipped, then it shouldn’t be too far for her family to come pick her up.”
“I concur with that decision,” I said.
“What if she’s not chipped?” Basia asked.
“Then the shelter will find her a good home.” Gray put her phone back in her pocket and headed to the car. “It’s a win-win for everyone. Let’s see what’s open near our hotel.”
We all piled into the car, and even though this time I claimed my seat, Ginger decided to plant herself right next to me…
again. As we were pulling away from the shelter, another car drove up the road.
It was a dark sedan with no markings. When we passed each other, I glanced sideways at the driver.
He was thin and pale. There was another dark-haired man in the passenger seat, but I couldn’t see him well.
I presumed they were either looking for a missing pet or dropping one off.
“They’re going to be disappointed to find out the shelter is closed,” Gwen commented.
“Welcome to the club,” I muttered, but patted Ginger’s head anyway.
As we drove back to Atlantic City, Gwen scrolled on her phone and found two animal shelters in the vicinity. One closed at five, the other at six. We’d never make it.
“Are you kidding me?” I said in frustration. “There are no shelters near our hotel that are open for twenty-four hours?”
“It’s not like shelters have a lot of money for operating expenses,” Gwen explained, swiping through her phone.
“There’s one near us, about fifteen minutes from the hotel, which will open at nine o’clock in the morning.
There is also a twenty-four-hour emergency vet nearby, but they don’t board.
They only take medical emergencies. At least, that’s what it says on their website. ”
“So, it’s settled then,” Baisa said. “We take her back to the hotel.”
I blinked. “The casino hotel? As in marble floors, chandeliers, waterfalls, and a well-trained security staff?”
Basia bit her lip. “It’s just for one night, Lexi, and we can’t leave her in Gray’s car.”
“We absolutely cannot leave a dog in my car overnight,” Gray said emphatically. “No way.”
We threw out some potential ideas and options as to what to do with Ginger, but there weren’t many to consider.
“Our hotel doesn’t allow animals of any kind except for service dogs,” Basia said, reading from the hotel website on her phone. “And it requires a one-week advance notification and official certification to allow for the review process. No emotional support animals are permitted.”
“Well, we have no other option,” Gwen said firmly. “We have to smuggle her into the penthouse.”
I stared at her, incredulous. “Smuggle her into the casino? Are you nuts? How would we do that? She’s a golden retriever, not a hamster.”
The car fell silent. I glanced up to see Basia rubbing her stomach thoughtfully before she suddenly smiled and shifted around in the front seat to look at me. I didn’t like that look. I’d seen it many, many times before, and it usually spelled trouble…especially for me.
“It could work,” she mused, eyeing me critically. “You’re tall and surprisingly strong for a geek.”
“Whoa,” I said, holding up my hands. “I’m fully aware of what a backhanded compliment is when I hear one. What could work, and how is my height even remotely relevant to this discussion?”
“Your height is essential to my brilliant plan,” she said. “We’re going to wrap Ginger around you like a baby and throw my poncho over the top of you two. You’ll pretend to be pregnant like me.”
My mouth dropped open in shock. “What? You expect me to go from zero to nine months pregnant in one day? How is that rational, or safe, for that matter?”
“Who’s going to remember whether you were pregnant or not?” Basia said. “We’re not headed for the casino floor.”
“I’ll remember,” I protested. “The casino has security. Besides, there’s no way wearing a dog will make me look pregnant. I’ll look ridiculous.”
Basia inspected her fingernails before staring at me sweetly. “Lexi, you’re my best friend, but you’re going to have to trust me on this. No man in his right mind is going to comment on a woman’s form, especially if they aren’t sure she’s pregnant or not.”
“She’s got a point,” Gwen interjected.
I folded my arms across my chest, frowning. “What if it’s a woman security guard?”
“There’s an unspoken woman code,” Basia said. “Unless you’re absolutely sure a woman is pregnant, there is no commenting on her body whatsoever. And even then, one must proceed cautiously.”
I had to think about that because I hadn’t heard of that exact code before, but I conceded Basia was far more knowledgeable than me in this area.
“Is that true?” I finally asked Gwen.
“It’s true,” she replied, and Gray agreed by holding a thumbs-up from the front seat.
“So, it’s settled then,” Basia said. “Lexi is sneaking the dog in.”
“No. It’s not settled. I’m not faking a pregnancy to sneak a dog into a casino. Why can’t someone else do it?”
“Because you’re the tallest of the three of us,” Basia explained patiently.
“Ginger is a full-size golden retriever, not a puppy. On your frame, Ginger can be bundled higher and better supported, without her legs dangling or shifting. Obviously, it can’t be me because I’m already seven and half months pregnant.
Gwen is too short and slim to carry Ginger effectively, and Ginger would hang too low on her.
Gray is the only other rational choice. She’s athletic, but shorter than you and narrower through the shoulders.
She’d provide less coverage for Ginger. But all that aside, the most important factor is that Ginger is attached to you the most. We have the best chance of making this work if you’re the one carrying her, Lexi.
You may be the hacking and cards expert, but if we’re talking fashion, or dressing to hide flaws—or a dog—I’m your girl. ”
“But you know my history with animals,” I protested. “Even if it seems like she likes me now, if you put a poncho over her head and she freaks out, the whole thing will be a disaster. It’s a risk we shouldn’t take. Given my history, it would take an act of God for it not to be a catastrophe.”
“Listen to me, Lexi. You’re the best chance we have of getting her inside safely,” Basia said quietly. “We don’t have another choice except to release her in the city and let her fend for herself. Unless you have a better idea.”
My mouth snapped shut as I looked down at Ginger, who was sleeping peacefully, her head in my lap.
Gray finally sighed. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but it’s not the worse idea we’ve ever had. Basia is right. If we want the best odds for this to work, you’re it, Lexi.”
I wanted to protest, to put my foot down.
But I’d already reviewed Basia’s argument and she was right.
Technically, I didn’t think this plan would work.
The odds were definitely stacked against us.
But if we were going to try, and if we wanted the best odds, it was the most logical for me to carry the dog.
Not because I wanted to do it—God knew I didn’t—but because I was the best choice to make it work.
I was tall enough to carry her, and my awkwardness might be enough to make a supposed pregnancy look believable.
I’d be so uncomfortable that hopefully no one would question me unless they recognized me from the casino and put the pieces together.
So long as we didn’t head to the casino floor, I had to admit there was a low probability anyone would stop me from entering the elevator and going up to our room.
But the deciding factor was that Ginger did seem to genuinely like me, which mystified me. “Fine,” I muttered. “I’ll carry the dog.”
Basia smiled. “Excellent. It’ll work. Trust me.”
I did trust Basia even if I didn’t fully trust her plan. It felt like sheer lunacy. But it was just one time and one night. I could do it.
At least Ginger seemed completely unconcerned about the plan…so far.
Operation Smuggle Ginger began in the dim glow of the hotel parking garage, born of our collectively bad decision.
After Gray took her for a quick walk in a carefully chosen location out of view of the garage security cameras, Gwen spread the poncho out like a parachute and Basia gently coaxed Ginger toward me.
“Okay,” Gwen said, assessing the angles. “Lexi, you’ll need to crouch down.”
“I’m not crouching,” I protested. “I’m dignified.”
“You’re pretending to be pregnant with a dog,” Basia said. “Dignity has left the chat.”
Clenching my teeth, I crouched. Ginger, to her credit, seemed to grasp the situation. She walked over to me and sat, leaning her head against my chest as if testing the comfort level of her new disguise.
“Good girl,” Basia cooed, wrapping a large shawl around us. “Okay, Lexi, just hold her steady. If she wiggles, pretend it’s a baby kick.”
“She weighs fifty pounds,” I said. “That’s not a kick, that’s a cry for help.”
Basia and Gwen ignored me as they tied and tucked the shawl tight with Ginger’s head just poking out and pressed against my chest. They wrapped the shawl so that my shoulder carried a good portion of the weight, with my hands and the binding holding the rest. The dog had to be uncomfortable—I certainly was—but she didn’t struggle and seemed on board with the plan.
Which was weird, because I’d just met her and, here we were, bound together like mother and child.
Gray added the poncho over us and fussed a bit until she got it lying like she wanted to.
Everyone helped me to a standing position, and I put my arms around Ginger and supported her bottom in my arms. With the poncho over her, it sort of looked like I was cradling my bump.
Unfortunately, sort of was the key phrase here.
I was not a pregnancy expert, but I did not look remotely pregnant, in my opinion.
Gray walked around us, eyeing me critically. “You look…surprisingly convincing.”
I glanced down at myself and shook my head. “This is not going to work. I look like I’m carrying four oblong watermelons.”
“No one is going to comment on your shape,” Basia assured me. “Lean into that.”
“You’d better be right,” I warned.
“I am,” Basia said smiling and patting her bump.
Gwen walked around me and Ginger. “You’ll need to waddle a little.”
“I’m not waddling.” I frowned grumpily.
“Gwen is right. Pregnant women waddle,” Basia insisted. “Do it for authenticity.”
I sighed but complied, waddling the best I could toward the hotel entrance with Ginger pressed against me like a warm, breathing backpack.
Walking was awkward anyway, so the waddling wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be.
Even with the shawl wrapped around us, Ginger was heavy.
But she was an amazingly good girl. No whining, barking, or even shifting her weight around.
It was weird, but it was almost as if she knew what was going on.
Gray opened the door to the casino and the smell of cigarette smoke and the noise of the slot machines rushed out to greet us.
“Okay, girl, let’s get this done,” I murmured, giving her a pat. Taking a deep breath, I walked into the casino, threatening to hatch a golden retriever.