Page 17 of Worst in Show

“What’s that got to do with anything?” I ask, eventually.

“Oh, nothing.” Harvey’s eyes widen with innocence. “Just saying.”

Next to me, Micki giggles, so I kick her in the shin. “Don’t,” I warn her.

“What?”

“Did you know he also went to Batavia High?” Pop asks.

“I do, but since when do you?” In fact, my grandpa seems to know an awful lot about Leo Salinger all of a sudden.

“Met him at the park. We had a nice chat. Apparently, his grandma and my Martha knew each other. How about that? Small world. So, I thought…” He shrugs. “He’s easy on the eyes—ask if he’s single.”

“Pop.” I sigh. “This guy is currently conspiring with the forces of the universe to bring ruin to Happy Paws. It doesn’t matter how hot he is, or if he’s single, or filthy rich, or the last man on the planet. We should all steer clear of him.”

Micki considers me for a long moment. “So, you do think he’s hot. Gotcha.”

I groan and dig back into my food.

“Well, I think we should go,” Harvey says after a minute.

I scoff. “Yeah, right.”

“You should listen to your elders,” Micki says. “Maybe you can get some tips from him.”

“You’re a smart girl, Michaela.” Harvey nods. “Leo does seem to have his act together.”

“And we don’t? No, don’t answer that.” Are they right? The invite to his soft launch is better put together than any promo material we’ve ever created.

Harvey scrapes a last spoonful from his bowl before standing. “That’s it for me, but please tell your sister thank you. It was delicious. I’ll open up. You ladies take your time.”

Once Pop has descended the stairs, Micki turns in her chair so she’s fully facing me. “You know I love you both, but you guys don’t even have a website, not to mention any social media accounts.” She squints. “Marketing 101—I suspect Fancy Pants over there is in the know.” She jerks her head toward Canine King.

“Yeah?” I finish chewing and swallow.

“Yeah, babe. And it doesn’t have to be for fun. You’ll essentially be spying on him. There are trade secrets to be uncovered.” She lowers her voice. “Fine men to bed…”

I roll my eyes. “If I go, will you give it a rest already?”

Micki just laughs, shoveling another piece of bread into her mouth. “No promises.”

That evening, I have two DMs. One is from User4549 agreeing to my price, and the other from my new friend who seems to still be online.

AlCaponesGhost25: So riddle me this—what’s a sharp Freddie Mercury fan like yourself doing in an Illinois history forum?

I frown at the monitor as if it’s a trick question. He must not remember me posting about costume commissions.

SingerQueen: Freddie Mercury?

AlCaponesGhost25: Your username.

It takes me a moment to figure out what he means. When I do, I don’t correct him.

SingerQueen: Maybe I’m just looking to connect with fellow hotdog obsessed Lincoln fans

AlCaponesGhost25: You’re obsessed with hotdogs?

SingerQueen: Sans ketchup.

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