Chick-Lit By Any Other Name

Chick-Lit By Any Other Name

By Maureen Reil

Copyright 2011 Maureen Reil

Updated Edition 2021

This book is entirely a work of fiction.

The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

Maureen Reil asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

Also by the author Maureen Reil

Chick-Lit By Any Other Name 2 (Chick-Lit Collection)

Lily Loves To Love

Sleepyhead Shares A Secret

I Hate Me, Who Do You Hate?

I Did Write What I Know

Chick-Lit Saved My Life (Chick-Lit Trilogy book 1)

Chick-Lit Stole My Life (Chick-Lit Trilogy book 2)

Chick-Lit Staged My Life (Chick-Lit Trilogy book 3)

Chick-Lit Collection

Chick-Lit Trilogy

Mistletoe And Wine (Christmas Comedy Trilogy)

Mistletoe And Wine 2 (Christmas Comedy Trilogy)

Mistletoe And Wine 3 (Christmas Comedy Trilogy)

Christmas Comedy Trilogy

Let’s Get Married (Let’s Get Funny Fiction)

Let’s Get Together (Let’s Get Funny Fiction)

Let’s Get It Started (Let’s Get Funny Fiction)

Let’s Get Serious (Let’s Get Funny Fiction)

Let’s Get Ready To Rumble (Let’s Get Funny Fiction)

Let’s Get Physical (Let’s Get Funny Fiction)

The Finch Family Short Break (Comical Vacations Book 0)

The Finch Family Holiday 1 (Comical Vacations)

The Finch Family Holiday 2 (Comical Vacations)

The Finch Family Holiday 3 (Comical Vacations)

The Finch Family Holiday 4 (Comical Vacations)

The Finch Family Holiday 5 (Comical Vacations)

The Finch Family Easter Holiday 6 (Comical Vacations)

The Finch Family Bank Holiday 7 (Comical Vacations)

The Finch Family Christmas Holiday 8 (Comical Vacations)

A Granny Is For Life, Not Just Christmas

Let’s Get Funny Fiction 1 (Three-Book Bundle)

Let’s Get Funny Fiction 2 (Three-Book Bundle)

Let’s Get Funny Fiction (Six-Book Box Set)

Comical Vacations 1 (Three-Book Bundle)

Comical Vacations 2 (Three-Book Bundle)

Comical Vacations 3 (Three-Book Bundle)

Christmas Crackers

Wed To The Wrong Wayne

The Desperate Dater’s Intervention

It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas

Things Can Only Get Better

Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas

Luck Had Nothing To Do With It

Dedicated to Tony D

CONTENTS

Cold Wet Nose And Floppy Ears

The Ex-Lover’s Convention

My Lucky Number’s Two

Make It Big, Make It Small

The Unpaid Labour

The Matinee Idol

50 Is The New 40

My Boyfriend’s Girlfriend

Whatever It Takes

We Will Fight Them On The Beaches

Tell Me Honestly

The Game

The Neat Freak

One Of Those Days

Washing Dirty Laundry

Welcome To My World

The Perfect Mother

This Is Life

Cold Wet Nose And Floppy Ears

(And I’m not talking about the boyfriend)

Jason seems so excited by the very thought of getting a dog, I swear he’ll burst one of those veins that poke out of his muscled arm any minute now. He’s steadfastly pumping iron while I laze in my pit and refuse to get out of bed to exercise with him. Jason points out once again ‘well, you have put-on weight since we first got together.’ As I suddenly feel the urge to take-up kickboxing. But then, the energetic notion passes for I soon drift back into my Sunday slumber.

I’m getting seriously fed up with having all of his stuff scattered over my loft apartment. I didn’t even ask him to move in; he just sort of turned up with a van full of his gear. And I feel like I’m living on ‘Noah’s Ark’ some days, because we have two of everything. I’m talking cookers, fridge freezers, ironing boards and even bathroom scales (you name it) but can I ever find what I’m looking for? No, is the answer to that question.

It was his idea to get a dog. Jason suggests that taking it out every day will not only improve my health, but it can be an excuse for us to have romantic walks together. Now that I’m all in favour of – because let’s face it we are getting a little stale in the romance department – especially now, seeing as our one year love-fest has ended with the music falling silent and the tents packed away for another rainy day in paradise. Jason wasn’t too keen on my name for the dog as I’d opted for ‘Shit Machine’ and he’d wanted ‘Rex’. Then I had moaned that it would probably be me who ends up looking after it, after the novelty factor wears off. So quite frankly, I should get to call it whatever I want.

And as you might have guessed by now, I’m not the world’s biggest fan of pets since they fall into the same category as children as far as I’m concerned, which is way too much hassle and not enough reward to justify the drain on your resources. But I had foolishly promised Jason that I’d get whatever he wanted, as this was the only way to get him to reluctantly accompany me to the ice-skating birthday party of my cousin the other week.

It was a truly humiliating experience all round, for I’d spent most of my time on my arse (where Jason happily left me to freeze to death) in that he didn’t even bother helping me up. It all predictably ended in tears, when I’d badly sprained my right ankle and thought it was broken. Jason meanwhile, utterly disregarded my pain; he continued to chat up my younger and much prettier cousin as per usual. And I suspect that he’s already cheated on me but I can’t prove it and obviously, he denies anything untoward happened between him and the skanky stripper with the mole on her top lip.

Showered and changed, I’m talking Jason not me since I figure that I may as well get used to smelling like a dog, if we’re going to actually own one. We leave Tanglewood town and travel westwards in my car (deep into the countryside) until we arrive at the same rescue centre where Jason got his smokey coloured cat from years ago. It was way before my time and I’m glad about that, having heard what the wretched thing did to his furniture and fabrics. There are no windows and the tall, concrete walls outside of this place look like a prison which I suppose it is really, only this is for four legged animals instead of two.

Jason presses the fat button on the intercom, where it crackles and buzzers before he can announce ‘we’re interested in adopting a dog.’ And I for one don’t agree with the terminology being used – because to me adoption should mean taken off their hands for free – to a good home of course. After all, we’re handing over good money in exchange for the mutt and I’d call that a purchase any shopping day of the week. Mind you, I don’t suppose we can bring it back if it doesn’t fit into our lifestyle.

The tattooed bloke with the generous smile guides us to some benches and then, he hands us the hardback files to look at. And as I flick through the pages, the man named Butch informs us ‘we tend to take on the poor animals that no one else will house.’ How appropriate for the man in charge to have a dog’s name, but surely that can’t be what’s written on his birth certificate. Butch warns us ‘some of the pictures can be a bit graphic, seeing as most of these dogs were either neglected or abused and some were even tortured leading to mental problems.’ I’m saddened and shocked by their stories as we read from the notes before selecting two dogs that fit the bill. They still look reasonably sane and have all their limbs intact, from what I can make out from the grainy images anyway. Butch promptly calls on his walkie-talkie radio to instruct Jenny, who is one of the helpers here to bring out our first choice for us to meet.

It’s called Tiny and is the opposite of what the name suggests for I don’t know what they’re possibly feeding it here, probably the other dogs by the look of it. Butch mentions the obvious fact ‘the picture was taken when, Tiny first arrived here as a puppy.’ He must have noticed our anxious faces. The dog’s so muscular and powerful that he must have been crossed with a racehorse. The pretty blond, namely Jenny is finding the hound extremely hard to handle, indeed, she cannot prevent him from bounding straight over at us. So she hands the lead, or should I say reins over to Butch since I think he’s about to mount it and literally ride off somewhere.

Even Butch has trouble stopping the boisterous animal from jumping up and pinning me down on the deck, only to lick my face off. I don’t normally get a French kiss from my boyfriend these days never mind a big, strong hound. Moreover, I look across to Jason to rescue me – but he’s too busy talking to Jenny – whom he obviously knows. And once Butch has Tiny under control (with some bone shaped dog biscuits) I’m finally free to make my way over to the chatty couple. Therefore, I’m standing at the side of Jason and constantly clearing my throat to be acknowledged and introduced. He totally ignores me of course, so I discreetly kick his ankle.

‘Oh yeah, this is . . . errs . . . err . . . anyway. I didn’t know you were working here.’ Jason is so besotted with this other woman that he completely forgot my name.

‘I’m his girlfriend, Jane by the way. So how do you two know each other then?’I stand my ground whilst scanning the vixen up and down.

‘Oh, we used to date years ago . . . must be five years since we’ve seen each other. God, I can’t believe it’s been that long,’ replied Jenny with eyes only for Jason.

He informs her about Smokey the cat being run over and they start to reminisce. This leaves me totally out of the conversation altogether, because I clearly don’t belong to their obvious history. Thereby, I return my full attention towards Butch and Tiny; he seems calm now after all the excitement of meeting potential, new owners. But as I stroke his back, I mean the dog and not the bloke’s; I notice that he seems to be moulting excessively. I soon realise that it was a major mistake to wear black today seeing as I now resemble a yeti covered in thick, white hairs.

There is another frazzled looking woman across the concrete courtyard – whose twin boys can’t seem to agree on a dog – when they start to argue and actually end up fighting over it. The mother then simply grabs them by the hand and leaves. They definitely won’t be getting one now, judging by the stony glare on her face. Meanwhile, Butch does his best to build-up the friendly qualities of Tiny (in that, he’s sadly been here for such a long-time) as the poor thing desperately needs to get re-homed.

My humble abode isn’t big enough for us two, let alone the mighty Tiny. So I was tempted to inquire whether it came in a smaller size because the dog really was lovely, just way too big. It is then that I catch Jenny staring at my vibrant, red hair; she’s probably wondering if the carpet matches the drapes. I want to let her know that it certainly does not since it’s straight out of a bottle. She probably fully remembers that Jason would never normally date a ‘firecracker’, which is the name he often refers to when meaning redheads. Thereafter, Jenny finally manages to tear herself away from my boyfriend’s side. She opens up the leather pouch wrapped around her slim waist and offers me one of the small sausages from inside a tightly packed, foil wrapper.

‘I’m not hungry; I’ve eaten already, so thanks but no thanks,’ I say and Jenny thinks I’m being serious.

‘But they’re for, Tiny!’ she exclaims and gives me a confused look.

Therefore, I tentatively hold the sausage between my fingers and the dog takes a bite of not only the meat but my thumb as well. And then the bleeding starts and won’t stop (as I leave in my wake tiny droplets of blood along the ground in a trail leading to the office). It is there that I have the wound cleaned and dressed in a small bandage from the first aid kit. Butch apologises for the over enthusiasm of Tiny and Jenny points out ‘it’s not the dog’s fault that she doesn’t know how to hold a sausage properly.’ I notice the sexual innuendo joke that Jason shares with her, as they laugh at me and not with me.

Needless to say, we chose not to take Tiny on as our new pet. Jason could handle him all right, but it would be a case of the dog taking me for a walk and not the other way around. So Jenny tempted Tiny (with more treats) back towards his gated kennel, while we waited for her return with our number two choice of dog. We were then, suddenly ordered by Butch to turn around for Satan was coming. And for a few moments there, I wondered if he meant the real deal. Especially, when he’d started going on about remaining silent and whatever we do – don’t look him in the eye – since he’ll see that as a threat and all hell will break loose.

But he was just talking about the beast of a dog that had been so abused by its previous owners; it had severe, psychological problems that they were trying their best to treat. I could sense the snarling, drooling teeth before I felt them press-up against my leg as the longhaired Alsatian thoroughly sniffed my ample derrière through my trousers. And I just had to let him get his nose right in there, for apparently, he was simply checking out the strangers on his patch. Then thankfully, the ordeal was over before Satan did an actual ‘body cavity’ search. His trustworthy handler was taking him out for a must needed walk to burn off some steam, caused by being locked up in here no doubt. While, somehow, I sympathise with the aggressive nature of the large Alsatian, particularly, since I’m feeling rather peeved a lot lately with Jason. He takes no notice of my repeated question about having his wallet with him. It’s become a bit of a regular occurrence in our daily lives seeing as I seem to pay for everything these days.

Jenny is told by Butch (via the walkie-talkie) ‘the coast is now clear to bring out, Junior.’ So I take a seat on the wooden bench awaiting his arrival and when the much more reasonably sized dog arrives on the scene. Junior sits at my feet and rests his paw on my knee. He peers at me with his big, ‘puppy dog’, brown eyes and my heart hastily melts as he rolls onto his back for a belly tickle. And I unexpectedly remember what that falling in love moment felt like. Junior is a Staffordshire, bullterrier type of dog. The small but perfectly formed, cross-breed has the most beautiful, tan coat which surely any self-respecting colourist would be hard pushed to recreate in a salon. For that was the exact hair colour that I was trying to achieve but look what I ended up with, a head that wouldn’t look out of place on a circus clown.

I’d noticed that one of his floppy ears has a short split in it and he has a small, deep scar under his chin. So I enquire as to the nature of these inflictions – because I do hope that this affectionate animal was not used for ‘dog-baiting’ – or whatever they call it. Butch stresses ‘all I know is what’s written on the case sheet about, Junior having previously been owned by some druggies, since he’s not long been attained by us.’ I immediately wondered what kind of life this poor pooch must have had up until now. It brings about a strong compulsion that I want to make it a better one, for Junior at least.

And for all his pestering and plotting about getting a dog, Jason has paid very little attention to them (whilst he continues to flirt outrageously with Jenny before my very eyes). Butch sensibly suggests ‘why don’t you guys take, Junior out for a walk? And spend some time getting to know him, before you make your minds up.’ So off we trot up the bendy, country lane that runs adjacent to the rescue centre.

Jenny expresses ‘I was hoping to take Junior up to the lakes this coming weekend. He’s my current favourite out of all the animals.’ Jason then has the gall to reminisce about their romantic times together in the caravan, which used to be their love nest. And I’ve heard enough, so I stomp away with the dog.

Junior seems very well trained and behaves accordingly, which is more than I can say for my boyfriend. Jason is walking on ahead with Jenny and now they’re actually linking arms. This leaves me to trail behind with Junior, who suddenly wants to sniff everything and anything. He was looking for just the right place to pee and I’m just glad it’s not a number two. But then again, I spoke too soon as Junior decided to lose the remains of last night’s dinner. He must have had the same Indian takeaway as me, judging by the curry puddle left behind. And I’m ordered to pick it up by Jenny, using the bag that she conveniently had tucked into her pocket. So I suppose I’ll have to get used to all this palaver – whilst I struggle to remove the mess – because I can’t see Jason doing the honours. That bloke has never, ever cleaned up after himself in all his life, to which I personally blame his mother for spoiling him. But that’s another story.

Jenny abruptly shouts back to warn me that Satan is nearby, so I must hide Junior from sight. And for a split second, I wondered whether to stuff him up my baggy jumper but surely Satan would only sniff him out. In the end, I opted to take drastic action and jump into the muddy ditch that runs alongside the lane instead. And while Junior is preoccupied with a slimy toad, I’m as still as a statue and facing the other way. Thereafter, I turned around and peeped over the dirt ridden edge of the crumbling ditch, only to witness my boyfriend getting even more up close and personal with a smiling Jenny.

So here I am, knee-deep in mud which has probably only gone and ruined my best boots I might add. Jason meanwhile, is happily swapping phone numbers with his ex-girlfriend. And why exactly, would you want to do that? Especially when you haven’t seen each other for going on five years, it’s not like you’re still close or anything. The revelation hits me hard as I realise that maybe, they want to pick up where they’d left off. And it’s only his girlfriend that’s standing in their way to eternal joy and happiness, because Jason doesn’t look at me like that anymore. Junior does though – seeing as his eyes are filled with an instant loving affection – which seems to be contagious around here.

Once back at the centre, we make our way into the office and Jenny returns Junior to his kennel. Butch can evidently see from my expression (of separation anxiety symptoms) that I’d clearly love to adopt Junior. He informs me that the dog has already been neutered, which in theory should reduce his aggressive, sex drive. And I wonder if they’ll do my boyfriend too, for he certainly needs it as of late. So I dutifully fill out the form and pay the respective price for all the jabs etc. While Jason wanders off to use the loo, probably in a bid to avoid any responsibility.

‘Will you be taking on, Junior as your new houseguest?’ enquires Jenny as I’m heading for the exit.

‘Oh, yes . . . the canine is definitely a keeper, but as far as the boyfriend’s concerned. I’ve decided to replace one dog with another. So it looks like, Jason’s the one that’s going to need putting on that long list for rehoming,’ I reply with confidence. Well, I don’t know what caused them to break-up in the first place and frankly I don’t care to find out. But Jenny’s face looks absolutely horrified – since I do recall that she did willingly and freely – give Jason her contact details.

The Ex-Lovers Convention

(What was I thinking?)

Everyone knows you should never date your ex, especially, one that cheated on you with your own sibling and broke your heart and sisterly bond in the process. It’s taken me years to get over the man and I wanted to prove that I had no feelings left for the guy, by becoming a friend to him and his current girlfriend. But now she has gone and chucked him, he is under the impression that we have this special connection and it was fate which brought us back in contact. And Jason is not the type of guy that you can easily say no to, for he can be a bit of a charmer when he wants to be and usually gets the ladies well wrapped around his little finger in next to no time.

So I have to be firm and tell him straight, that we can be ‘gym buddies’ and nothing more and certainly not ‘friends with benefits’. Because I knew he’d get all romantic on my ass and try to worm his way once again into my love life – the minute Jason realised that he was stranded at the rescue centre where I volunteer – when his ‘then’ girlfriend (Jane) had suddenly left him. I’d only offered him a lift home and he took this to mean my place, seeing as he was now kicked out of the one that he shared with the girlfriend.

But I do need his help as a personal trainer; if I’m going to get fit enough to run this marathon which I have pencilled in the diary for a couple of months time. And I can honestly say that Jason is no longer my type anymore, due to him bulking out a lot since I last saw him half naked. He’s like a strong muscle man these days and if that fake tan of his was a green colour, he could pass for a ‘mini me’ of the incredible hulk.

Jason was the second great love of my life thus far because my first was a guy called Brad, who I used to sing duets with. We never did get ‘discovered’ but we used to do the usual circuit of pubs and clubs up and down the country together. It entailed a lot of time spent travelling around in his beat-up, old transit van with the mattress in the back (or ‘passion wagon’ as he called it) and this saved us from wasting money staying somewhere else. Those were the carefree days I suppose. And I think Brad had every right to dump me – when he’d found me drunk and in bed with Jason – on that night he couldn’t make it back in time from a gig to celebrate my birthday with me.

It didn’t hurt any less that I had no one to blame but myself. So I threw my