Rich Bitch: Everything's Going To The Dogs - Plot & Excerpts
Vince bellowed, deciding that after the twenty-four hours he’d had, the little powder puff on legs better not push him. If she didn’t come back in thirty seconds, he was going to get one of Uncle David’s hunting rifles, put a bullet through the Parisian pooch, and have her stuffed to hang on his wall like a trophy. “I know you understand English, you little varmint.” Ahead of him he saw the bouncing curls of Mimi’s ears as the dog carefully squatted and squeezed out her two hundredth drop of pee. He didn’t have time for this. He didn’t want to be seen with this embarrassment of a dog. If the media caught wind of his new accessory, his career as a tough labor negotiator was over. Bulldog? Hah, they’d be calling him Pierre. Since the dog was keeping up the pretense that it didn’t understand a word he was saying, he grabbed the French/ English dictionary he’d bought last night in desperation. “Viens-ici,” he shouted. Then he flipped a few pages. “Ou je going to, going to, je va wring your hairy little neck.”
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