Page 67 of Worst in Show

The day before Halloween, however, I am done with all the preparations, most of my customers have picked up their costume orders, I’ve delivered the masquerade ball gown, and all I have left to do are the last few touches on my Belle dress.

Micki texts me as I’m finishing up the hem.

Be ready at 8. No excuses.

The last thing I want after this week is a night out, but one of the breweries nearby has an annual fall event the last weekend of October with apple-themed brews and all-you-can-eat BBQ that we always go to. A promise is a promise. Jaz will be there, too, as well as a couple of Micki’s colleagues from the salon who I’ve met before, so I know it’s a fun crowd. As long as I can muster up enough energy, it’ll be a good time.

“That’s what you’re wearing?” Micki frowns when I let her and Jaz in a little before eight. “You do remember what it’s like to go out, right?” She heads straight for the closet and opens the door, shaking her head. “I’ve neglected you. This is what happens when they flee the nest,” she complains to her sister. “A complete hermit.”

“What’s wrong with this?” I look down. Cozy knitted sweater, my favorite corduroy skirt, thick leggings, and combat boots. Perfect for a chilly, beer-filled fall evening.

“Nothing. If you were headed for the mall…” Micki turns around, a black off-the-shoulder top in her stretched-out hands. “Put this on. Keep the rest, but no grandma sweaters tonight.”

Jaz checks the time. “We have fifteen minutes.”

“Okay, okay.” I do what Micki asks, then return from the bedroom and give them a spin.

“And earrings.” Micki points me back to where I came from. “And run a brush through your hair, please. God, I can’t wait to get my hands on that tomorrow.”

Micki has persuaded me that, if I’m dressing up as Belle, I need princess hair to complete the illusion, so tomorrow I’m sitting my butt in her chair next door for a trim and style before trick-or-treating begins.

Jaz stomps her feet by the door. “Come on, people. Let’s go.”

“Schnitzel and Brew” has a long line of people waiting to get in, but with reservations, we pass the line and are seated without delay. Roderick and Donna from the salon are already there, so the first few minutes are a flurry of hugs and catching up.

“The first round’s on me,” Roderick says. “Prost!”

I tip back my Honeycrisp ale, and when the fizzy brew hits my system, the demands of the week finally drain away.

There’s live music, five different kinds of brats, ribs, slaw, laughter, and more beer. For the first time since I took charge of the store, I’m able to let go. One night. I’ve earned it.

“I hear you’re competing at Winter Fest this year,” Donna says when we’re in line for the bathrooms during a break from eating. “With the little one.”

“Cholula. Yeah.”

“Can she really balance on another dog?”

I could slap Micki. She wasn’t supposed to talk about that. I have no idea if Cho is going to pull it off in the end. So far, I’ve only been able to get her to climb onto Cap when he’s lying down. “We’re working on it,” I say. “I’m trying different things.”

We’re finishing our second round of drinks when Micki puts her hand on my arm and points to the entrance. “Look who’s here.”

I direct my attention to the crowd at the door, and there’s Leo accompanied by a slightly shorter version of himself and a redhead with an expensive blow-out.

“You should go say hi.” Micki nudges me.

Roderick leans forward. “Who are we talking about?”

“The king is here,” Micki says under her breath.

“He is?” Roderick’s head spins toward the door.

“The king?” I ask Micki. “You’d better not let Leo hear that or his head will explode.”

“I heard from a client that he was fired from his fancy Wall Street job, and there’s a lawsuit,” Donna says.

“No way,” Jaz says.

“Yeah, the king is no crook,” Roderick counters. “Look at that honest face.”

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