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his belly rubbed by a hoard of rambunctious children.
    I find a park employee, but he suggests the pound, and I don’t like that idea.
    “You phoned the number yet?” the park guy asks.
    “I don’t have a quarter.”
    “Cell phone?”
    I shake my head. He gives me a quarter and wishes me luck. I find a pay phone and dial the number. It’s a Brooklyn number, and after a couple of rings it goes to voice mail. A girl’s voice, and without a New Yorker accent.
    “You’ve reached Nat. Leave me a message here or not, but if you’ve found Clocker, please, please, please don’t take him to the pound. I can’t afford to keep bailing him out of there. Leave your cell number and I’ll hook up with you right away. Thanks, and rock on, crouton.”
    It beeps. “Uh, yeah, hi,” I say. “I’ve got Clocker, but I don’t have a cell, and I can’t remember my sister’s cell and I don’t knowwhere I am in the park, so...” Clocker barks, as if on cue. “So I guess I’ll head up to the gardens and wait there for a while.” I hang up. “So, dogs,” Clocker and Daisy wag their tails. “Guess we’re stuck with each other for a while.”
    I wait at the gardens for almost two hours, until I think even Joy will start to worry, which isn’t something that comes naturally to her. I’ve been gone half the day by now. Both dogs have finally tired each other out with all of their you’re-my-new-best-friend romping and are now collapsed in panting heaps at my feet. I’m getting hungry. This whole broke thing is not going to work for me. Not only do I not have any money to get anything to eat, I don’t even have a quarter to call Clocker’s exceptionally irresponsible human again.
    I’ll have to take Clocker back to Joy’s place. That won’t go over well. She’s got the urban hipster thing going on—minimalist and very clean, with select, expensive, breakable items at Clocker’s tail-wagging height. And Joy hates dogs. We had such a battle overDaisy coming. I might have been less than impressed when Orion presented her to me as an apology for lying, but now I love her to neurons, and I’d never leave her for that long.
    The elevator is on the fritz, so we hike up six flights of stairs at what has got to be the hottest time of the day. Daisy conks out at the third floor, so I carry her the rest of the way. And then, the minute we get in the door, and before I can dog-proof the place, Clocker waggles across the living room and sends a blown-glass sphere smashing onto the floor. The noise summons Bruce and Joy from the bedroom, each wrapped in a sheet and bleary-eyed from sleep or who knows what else.
    Joy kneels and gingerly picks up a shard. “You know how much this cost?”
    “Add it to my bill.” I hold the dogs back.
    “Can you clean it up?” The last thing I need is another vet bill for sliced-up paws.
    “Not a chance, Hopeless.” She drops the piece. “And what the hell is that dog doing here?”
    While Bruce sweeps up the glass, I tell her.
    “You’re here, what, like a few hours?” she asks. “How can you even get up to this much shit?” She disappears into the bedroom, still talking. “You keep it up at this rate and I’m so sending you home.”
    “And you would so be The Unforgiven,” I call back.
    “Get rid of the dog,” she says as she reemerges, dressed in a strapless sundress and high heels. “By the time we get back.”
    “Where are you going?”
    “Bruce has an audition in Manhattan.”
    “You’re coming with me?” Bruce beams.
    “That’s so sweet, honey.”
    “I’m meeting Cecily for lunch, Bruce.” Joy doctors her lipstick at the mirror by the door. “I told you that.”
    “Yeah, you did.” Poor Bruce. He actually slumps. Why does he stay with her? Even if it’s for sex, is it really worth it? “We’ll hook up after?” he asks.
    “It’s a girl thing, Bruce,” Joy says.
    “We can get together later, Bruce,” I offer.
    “If you want.” It’s not like hanging