Page 51 of Worst in Show

SingerQueen: Let me go check…

RenaissanceMom: What do you think?

SingerQueen: It’ll be tight, but let’s do it.

How is our Harv?” Micki asks later over pizza. “I miss him.”

I give her and Jaz a status report, and then I put my plate away. “You’re going to have to talk to me while I sew tonight.” I consult the list I made this morning where checkmarks adorn most of the tasks I set for myself. “I have two more outfits to finish, and then I have to start the commission I picked up today. Plus…” I hold up my phone for her to see.

“You’re on Insta?” Micki gapes. “Welcome to the twenty-first century. I’ve only been telling you to get on social media for a few years now.”

“I only have the one post so far. Do you think it was silly to put Cho in a dress for the pic?”

“No, it’s great. It’s your brand.” She beams at me and reads my caption out loud: “Halloween is for everyone. Need ideas for your pets? Happy Paws can help.”

“I like it,” Jaz says.

“What changed your mind?” Micki asks.

“I don’t know.” I replace the gray thread I used for a Sherlock-inspired tweed waistcoat earlier with a beige one. I’m working on Cogsworth’s brown suit for Cap. I’m also planning on making Belle’s yellow ballgown for myself. With three weeks until Halloween, I have my work cut out for me.

“Leo has a list of to-dos like that, too,” Jaz says, unprompted. “He keeps a notebook by the register.”

Micki stops chewing and taps her phone. Her lips curve into a smile at what she sees on the screen. “My ass you don’t know.”

I finish a seam before I look up.

“You’re telling me this”—she holds up today’s to-do list—“has nothing to do with a certain hunky store neighbor and his prolific social media presence. You’re kicking up the competition!”

My pulse quickens. “Let me see that.” I take the phone from her, and sure enough, she’s found Leo’s Canine King feed, which is somehow already full of artfully lit posts about the renovation, Tilly, and various product offerings. “He must be posting multiple times a day. How does he have time?”

Micki takes her phone back. “He probably uses a scheduling app. You should too.”

“Yeah, it’s easier to set aside a couple of hours once a week and schedule all your posts than to fit it in daily,” Jaz agrees. “Trust me. We all made that mistake in the beginning.”

“Not all of us.”

Micki blows me a kiss. “The fact that you’re almost twenty-eight and an Insta virgin is not something to brag about. Trust me on that, too.”

She scrolls the feed while I return to my sewing. My heart is slowly settling back to its normal rhythm when she suddenly lets out a crescendoing “Whaaaat?”

The fabric runs amok beneath my fingers, creating a bulging seam. “What is it now?”

“Why are you in Leo’s Insta feed?” Her eyebrows are halfway to her hairline. She shows me a picture from yesterday at the aunts’ house. Its primary focus is Tilly, but yep, that’s me and Cholula in the background. Fuck. I’m forced to explain everything, and I swear her eyes are heart-shaped at the end of it.

“He brought you home for Sunday lunch? This is moving faster than even I could have predicted.”

“Like I said—he was making up for getting us kicked out of the agility place.”

“But you agreed.”

“I had no choice.” I leave the table in a huff and busy myself with filling a glass with water.

“Oh, honey. There’s always a choice.”

“Fine, I made a professional choice. For Happy Paws. Is that better?”

“I think it’s cool,” Jaz says. “Sworn enemies working together. Gives me faith in humanity. Do you mind if I use that in my screenplay?”

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