Page 83 of Worst in Show

“Oh, really? Are you getting scared because I’m three-for-three so far?”

“Queen of Halloween was one. And the karaoke forfeit. What’s the third?” He wipes crumbs off his fingers with a napkin.

“The tunnel runs.”

“No, hold up. We never finished the tunnel runs because of Boris.”

“Cap had the most runs. That means I won, and you… what was that word again?” I finger-gun him. “Lost.”

His eyes narrow. “Fine. I’ll make my comeback when it counts.”

“Or not.”

He suppresses a laugh that threatens to turn into a coughing fit, so I go to fill up his glass with water.

“You’re pretty full of yourself this morning,” he says between gulps. “Feeling emboldened by my measly state?” He wipes his mouth. “I guess we’ll see what happens.”

I smirk. “I guess we will.”

I pick Micki up after work. She’s coming with me to see Harvey, and she’s not the only one. Cholula is snoozing in the back seat because I have a plan. Every time I’ve talked to Pop the past two weeks, he has asked about the dogs over and over. It’s not that he doesn’t think I’m capable of caring for them, but he’s used to them being around. Dogs fill your space with a certain kind of energy that combats loneliness like no other, and without it, there’s only empty space.

“You’re going to smuggle her in?” Micki asks when I tell her as much. “Isn’t that against the rules?”

“Oh, most definitely.”

Micki laughs. “Got to say, I’m kind of liking this side of you.”

When we park at Dalebrook, I tell Cholula to get into the large canvas tote bag I brought and then I hoist the handles of it onto one shoulder. “Be a good girl,” I tell her. “No barking.”

Micki shakes her head. “This will never work. She’s going to give us away.”

There’s a sign on the front door banning dogs from the premises unless they’re licensed guide dogs, but that doesn’t stop me. “Walk on my right so you cover the bag,” I whisper to Micki as we hurry past the front desk.

Halfway through the lobby, the receptionist calls out, “Excuse me.”

We stop short. Shit.

“You forgot to sign in.” The receptionist smiles. “Who’re you seeing today?”

We step up to the counter, me clutching the top of the bag closed with my elbow, willing Cho to stay still. “Harvey Morton,” I say as casually as I can. “Do you mind signing?” I ask Micki. “On account of my, um, wrist.”

“Oh, of course.” She springs into action, scribbling our names on a list.

Cholula isn’t liking the dark, it seems. The bag wriggles against my hip.

“Thanks.” The receptionist takes the clipboard from him. “Have a great visit.”

I set a faster pace than is probably inconspicuous down the hall while trying my best to shield the bag from view. It works. We reach Harvey’s room without incident.

“I thought for sure she knew,” I pant. “Okay, come on out, girl.” As soon as I open the bag, Cholula’s head pops out like a jack-in-the-box.

“Cora,” Harvey exclaims from his bed. He puts his book away on the side table. “And Michaela!”

“And a special visitor today.” I bring Cholula to the bed.

“No…” Harvey’s astonishment is priceless as Cholula attacks him with kisses. “Aww. Hello, my friend.” He laughs. “Yes, I’ve missed you, too. Aww. Yes, we’re so excited.”

Micki leans closer to me and says under her breath, “Okay, this reunion definitely makes the sneaking around worth it.”

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