Lab Test

Chapter 1

Samantha Evans was a dog. Quite a revelation for someone who had been crowned homecoming queen, voted Most Likely to Succeed, and named class valedictorian in high school. Incomprehensible for someone holding a college degree, Phi Beta Kappa key, and earning a six-figure income. Nevertheless, she was what she was.

As Sam walked down busy Woodbridge Avenue, she exuded confidence. With head held high, long strides, and a slight wiggle to the hips, she maintained a brisk pace. Her assertive attitude, though, was a façade. She was really clueless, aimless, and homeless.

Inner-city Detroit was no place for a female alone after dark. Daylight was dimming as the sun began its descent over the deserted Tiger Stadium. Sam swallowed hard, a bitter mix of dread and fear settling in and knotting her stomach. Never had she anticipated such an end to her day. The day had begun as any other. Ordinary. She had grown to detest ordinary and the mundane repetition it brought. The words, Be careful what you wish for rang in her head. All she wanted was change. The change she was granted was far more than she had bargained for.

Feeling the throb of a headache coming on, she shook her head. As she looked up, she noticed a menacing policeman standing on the corner. Arms crossed, badge glinting in the waning sunlight, he grimaced. Sam ducked into a crowd of rush-hour commuters to hide from his icy glare. There was something about his uniform that instilled panic in her.

The reaction of the people she brushed against didn’t put her at ease, either.

Get away!

Shoo!

Go home!

She darted into a grassy urban park and flopped under a tree in defeat. Rejected and dejected, she wanted to cry but couldn’t. With sorrowful eyes, she watched the commuters flee past her to parking garages and metro busses. She had nowhere to go. Driving a car was out of the question, as was riding the bus. She was stuck like an alien just landed on earth. Sniffing the sweet grass for comfort only made her stomach rumble for food. Thirst was creeping up on her, too, as was exhaustion. If Samantha had thought she was lost when she had it all, she was even more lost having nothing. Sprawling back on the grass, she squeezed her eyes shut in hopes of awakening from a very strange nightmare.

The change you seek shall come in an alternate form. As a creature born of instinct, you shall learn the true meaning of life, happiness, and love. During this process of self-discovery, you shall create change in another as well as within yourself. Challenges await you. A man named Daniel is your destiny. Seek and you shall find. Trust and it shall be so. The Gypsy’s melodic voice resonated in her mind, words that sounded more prophetic than true.

Little did she know that trusting a fortuneteller would lead her to blacking out and awakening under a tree in a grassy park in urban Detroit. Instead of the black suit she’d put on this morning, she was covered in dense black fur, her arms and legs transformed into paws, and instead of the ability to scream in hysterics, she barked! The Gypsy had mentioned change, but she’d never warned of turning Sam into a dog. A dog! Weird things like that only happened in horror movies and not in real life. So Sam had thought.

Someone whistling stirred her awake, and she sat up.

She traced the noise to a man in a black trench coat who had just made the traffic light and now crossed the street with a spring in his step. Nylon briefcase swung over his shoulder, he pumped his fist in the air as if in victory.

Sam saw him approach from her spot in the park. There was something about him that set him apart from other commuters. For one thing, he was alone. Second, he possessed unabashed confidence in manner and in the glowing expression on his face. Sam considered him handsome in a preppy sort of way. His almost black hair was short and neat. With a strong square jaw, cheekbones any woman would die for, and a sculptured nose, he epitomized Ivy League perfection. She squinted to get a better look at his eyes. They were dark but a mystery.

Sam shook her head before springing to her feet. She had the urge to approach the handsome stranger. As if something had taken possession of her, she raced toward the man.

At the sight of her, the man froze in place on the sidewalk. Startled. His eyes grew wide, and his mouth gaped open just enough to see a hint of teeth. She seated herself before him and gazed up at him while offering him a furry paw.

Go home, the man said, pointing out into the distance.

Sam tilted her head and remained seated, once again offering him a paw.

With reluctance, the man bent down and accepted her paw. A warm tingly shock jolted her as he let go.

There, satisfied? he asked, rubbing his hand.

Sam continued to sit and stare at him.

The rain that had been forecast earlier in the day seemed imminent. Sam couldn’t imagine spending a night alone in the dark, in the deserted city, and in a thunderstorm. She had never liked lightning and being wet always made her uncomfortable. She shivered. Sam hoped that the man would take pity on her. For the first time in her adult life, she was asking for help.

After raking a hand through his hair, the man flailed his arms at her.

Shoo! Go home! Go away! Get out of here!

She didn’t so much as flinch. Instead of moving, she lay on the sidewalk at his feet, her gaze never wavering from him. The handsome stranger was her only hope of escape from the city.

Okay, have it your way, he muttered, stepping off the sidewalk and onto the grass.

The man scurried past her, only to glance over his shoulder and meet her gaze. She pleaded with her eyes. Ignoring her, he began a brisk walk toward a parking garage.

Desperate, she let out a howl: an eerie, ear-piercing, high-pitched, cemetery-hound dog howl. The howls continued, plaintive and sorrowful. The breeze was kicking up and raindrops began to sprinkle. A downpour wasn’t out of the question. The street was deserted. She continued to howl.

The man turned around and stomped toward her. She lowered her head at his approach. She parted her jowls showing her teeth, the only way she assumed a dog could smile, and she blinked up at him as he squatted in front of her.

She presented her paw, which he accepted and shook.

What are you afraid of? You’re a Lab. You can swim, he said, touching the webbing between her pads as the rain grew in intensity.

She tilted her head.

Setting down her paw, the man reached out to scratch her ears as if to look for any sign of a collar or ID tag. She had none.

She gently nudged his arm with her nose.

As the rain began to pour, she whined. It pelted her coat and she began to tremble. A clap of thunder and flash of lightning made her spring to her feet.

The man rose, his hair plastered against his head while water dripped down his temples, cheeks, and chin.

Why me? he mumbled. Staring at her, he said, Okay, if you want me to help you, you’ll have to follow me.

He waved his hand, turned, and proceeded to walk. Sam shook herself and followed him, keeping close.

He led Sam into the dimly lit parking garage. At least it was dry. The good-looking stranger was her only hope. He clicked the security remote as he approached a lacquer-red sports car, a model Sam had never seen before. He opened the driver’s door, pulled the seat forward and directed her into the backseat. She shook, spraying him with water droplets. He scowled.

Sam jumped into the car and positioned herself in back. The scent of leather was comforting, but she had the strange urge to chew. Not a good idea when you’re in dire straits. Don’t damage the rescuer’s car. She leaned back. Her plan was working so far. She had always been good at the art of persuasion and getting what she wanted. At least she was out of the rain and, hopefully, soon out of the city. With the unique luxury automobile, she figured the owner had to have quite a swanky abode.

Chapter 2

Sam awakened groggy and unable to remember when she fell asleep. She shook her head to untangle the cobwebs in her brain. Opening her eyes, she stared at her black paws and turned to see her sleek furry body and tail.

She looked up and met the gaze of her rescuer. His trench coat was as wrinkled as the frown on his chiseled face. His eyes were the deepest blue she had ever seen. Indigo blue: dark, intense, focused. She swallowed hard and began to cough.

No you don’t, not in my car, the man said as if she were about to barf on his fine leather upholstery. She wouldn’t dare.

He reached in through the open door into the backseat and drew her up into his arms and out of the automobile. Settling her on the concrete driveway, he swiped his brow.

You’re heavier than you look.

Sam growled deeply.

Hey, no offense intended, the man said, shaking his head.

Sam stretched out her long, lean body and took a whiff of her surroundings. Not bad. The front yard was a wide expanse of sweet-smelling grass with professionally planted and maintained flowerbeds. Daffodils sprouted, the shrubs were lush. She stared up at the contemporary cedar-sided home with its rectangles, triangles, and curves and tinted glass windows. Standing three stories high with tubular brushed metal overhangs and balconies, it was a modern architectural wonder. Must have cost a fortune.

Well, aren’t you gonna do anything? the man asked, arms crossed in front of his chest.

Sam peered up at him. She knew what he was driving at and did have the sudden urge to go. Nerves and new places always did it to her. Having to go in front of him was demeaning. Worse yet, instinct made her sniff around for a proper spot. She spotted a full boxwood hedge and scampered behind it.

Not in there, the man yelled, following her.

Sam ducked in the bushes just in time and sighed in relief. She came back out, thinking that she would have felt normal if there had been some Cottonelle.

Oh well, come on. He pointed to the front door.

Sam followed him up the wide stone steps onto the cedar porch. Two tall sculptures of aluminum and verdigris copper flanked the solid mahogany door. She tilted her head at the strange art objects.

She watched as he unlocked the door and tapped in the security code. She was at his heels as he entered.

Sam hesitated on the glossy granite tile in the foyer. Adjusting to slippery surfaces when you had four legs was difficult. Gaining her footing, she gingerly followed him past a paneled library, a Berber carpeted sitting room, and into a spacious kitchen. The same granite tile covered the kitchen floor. The cabinets were smooth blond maple, the countertops and appliances - a Viking range, a Sub-Zero refrigerator and matching freezer, and a dishwasher and range hood –were all stainless steel, completing the sleek modern look. She knew fine design when she saw it.

Sam sniffed at the layers of air, detecting spices and fresh fruit. Her stomach rumbled. What she wouldn’t have given for a banana or an apple.

I don’t have any dog food, the man mumbled.

Sam’s ears perked up. Who wanted dog food? Real food was what she craved. A fat, juicy steak. A baked potato smothered in sour cream. A Caesar salad with bleu cheese dressing. A chilled glass of white Zinfandel. Especially the Zin. She watched as he opened a top cabinet, removed a stainless-steel bowl, and went over to the sink to fill it with water. He set it on the floor in front of her. Sam supposed she’d just have to settle.

I’m going upstairs to get undressed. We’ll have dinner after, the man said. Sam thought it rather interesting that he felt it necessary to vocalize his actions to a dog. He would find it even more interesting if he knew that she actually understood everything he was saying.

The word undressed drew Sam’s attention away from the water bowl. Seeing the man without his clothes would sure be fun. She thought better of it. Better to stay in the kitchen as he expected. You don’t press your luck when you’re only a guest.

*****

Sam awakened from a deep sleep, sprawled on the floor. She looked up to see the man in a baggy U of M jogging suit hovering over her. His feet were bare, and she noticed his perfectly aligned toes, slight arches, and trim ankles. Funny, she had never noticed a man’s feet before. She had never been so low to the ground to care.

All right. He moved toward the refrigerator and removed a Styrofoam package of ground-beef patties. Sam was at his heels, staring up at him as he took a frying pan from a pot rack suspended above a butcher block-topped island. Soon, patties were frying on the range, tickling Sam’s nostrils. She drooled.

The man removed two stoneware plates, set them on the counter, removed two rolls from a stainless breadbox and plopped them on the plates. Placing burgers in the rolls, he walked over to a built-in breakfast nook. Setting one plate on the chrome table, he set the other on the floor.

Don’t expect hamburgers every night, he said.

She looked up at him as he bit into his. Sam looked down at her plate. There was no dignified way to eat when you were a dog. Hunger, though, took precedence over etiquette. She chomped down on the thick meat and chewy roll.

*****

Following the stranger around his palatial house was rather fun. Sam wondered, though, why he wanted to live alone in such a quiet mausoleum. If he was single, that is. While tailing him from room to room she hadn’t noticed any family photographs or children’s toys or effects. There weren’t any feminine touches either. The design was out of Architectural Digest, pristine perfection. It was as if it had been designed purely for effect. A look but don’t touch house where everything had to be perfect was not a home. Mansions were the loneliest places on earth.

Dark, neutral shades were predominant, and the angles hard. His cherry-paneled library offered some contrast. Books were heaped on ceiling-high shelves on three walls. Set against the fourth wall was an L-shaped desk with an elaborate computer workstation. She could tell that he possessed the most technologically advanced equipment. As he slumped into his leather swivel chair, Sam found a spot nearby on the nubby Berber carpet and lay down, her head resting between her paws, listening as the man checked messages on his computer voice mail.

Sam lay nearby, her head resting between her paws, listening as the man checked messages on his computer voicemail.

She met his gaze as he reached down to pet her on the head. Darn, that touch of his, long fingers caressing her head in a slow, soothing rhythm, was beginning to feel good. Sam tilted her head, wondering why he’d stopped. The answer came with the sound of his voice mail.

Hi Danny Boy. It’s Veronica. Been missing you and that hot bod of yours. Feeling lonely, horny, and more. Kiss, kiss.

Yo, Dan, it’s Jack. How’s Saturday for a long overdue game of golf? You know what they say about all work and no play.

Daniel, Irv Stevens. Great presentation today. The Predator’s going to be the hottest, most fuel efficient car on the road.

Hey Dan, Jon here. What are you going to do with all that money, money, money? The Predator is your way to the bank, buddy. Bye.

Dan. The man’s name was Dan. Sam wondered whether it was fate or coincidence that his name was Dan. The words of a Gypsy fortuneteller sang in her mind, A man named Dan holds the key to your future. Don’t let it slip away.

Dan. Sam looked up at the man who seemed lost in some daydream, eyes closed, lips tilted up in a shy smile as he leaned back in his chair. According to the voices on the answering machine, he was Dan with the hot body, a hot machine named the Predator, and a bank full of money. She caught herself yawning with a loud groan.

As Dan peered down at her, she met his gaze.

Hey, you’re tired, too? Long day, huh?

Sam wrinkled