“No comment,” Nikki says.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just saving the ‘I told you so’ for later.”

“What exactly did you tell me?”

“That the dog is staying… Hmm, what else?” Nikki gives me a shrewd look to clue me into the fact that she’s really talking about Richard. I play dumb, so she adds, “Anyway, I’ll be gone tonight.”

“Where to this time?” Video marketing is the best job; she gets to travel so much.

“Just upstate for the night; gotta get ready. The crew is picking me up in”—she looks at her watch—“twenty minutes.”

Nikki turns around the bar and hugs me goodbye then bends down to scratch Chevron behind the ears. The puppy is so ecstatic that he follows her to her room.

I go after them and turn right instead of left to reach my bedroom. Since I have to walk, I change into a pair of pants and a blouse so that I can wear gym shoes for the crossing to Brooklyn without appearing too weird. Foldable flats do the trick only for short trips. I grab my duffel bag from under the bed where it’s been since my breakup with Gerard, and put together a basic dog-at-the-office survival kit. A bag of dog cookies, a bowl for food, another bowl for water, and, for me, a pair of high-wedged pink All Stars. No matter if I’m in sportswear, no one can see me without heels. At the last minute, I add a bundle of plastic bags.

There. Now I’m ready for any doggy situation.

***

As soon as Chevron steps a paw into the office, he becomes the center of attention. I leave him with grungy Saffron and vintage Ada to go drop the duffel bag at my workstation.

There’s a big bowl of oranges placed on the desk. How odd. I’m about to take out Chevron’s water bowl and fill it when Hugo, the ginger News Editor, comes near my desk with two weird metallic mugs.

“Want some coffee?” he asks, offering me one.

“Oh, wow. Thanks.” Hugo never makes me coffee. Where does the extra-nice attitude come from?

As I bring the mug to my lips, it feels like everyone is watching me. Like one of those slow motion moments in sitcoms where all the actors are holding their breath, waiting for something to happen. My eyes finally focus on the black writing on the side of the mug: USP ALCATRAZ. I lower the cup, aghast, and everyone starts laughing. They were watching me. That’s also when Indira spins in her chair, showing the front of her bright orange T-shirt. It spells, “I want to be your prison wife.”

My entire body heats. Not just my face, but my neck and shoulders all flare bright red. Everything makes sense now. The oranges, the mug, the suspense… they know I’ve been in jail. Damn Richard, I’m going to strangle him!

“Very funny,” I say. And the laughter doubles.

I have to endure half an hour of prison jokes before Richard appears. “How are our two inmates doing today?” he greets Chevron and me.