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Living History Illinois Flockify DM, Wednesday 07: PM
AlCaponesGhost25: Moderator here. Your post got flagged. If you are a registered company, you may not promote it on the server.
SingerQueen: Not a company and it’s been allowed in the past. New here?
AlCaponesGhost25: Me or the rules? As long as you are not a company, I’ll allow it.
SingerQueen: So magnanimous…
AlCaponesGhost25: Lol. And yes, I’m new here.
Two days after my run-in with Leo in the park, the store across the street is unrecognizable. Like all Canine Kings, the storefront framework has been painted black with the name contrasted in gold lettering to make sure no one misses the fact that this is an exclusive boutique even though it is a chain. And to think I used to enjoy visiting the downtown Chicago location when I lived there.
I shoot icy glares through the window where I stand half covered by the curtain, nursing a cup of coffee. From up here, I can see most of Leo’s store—the new shelves and display tables, a fridge undoubtedly filled with fresh, organic dog food, and a large chalkboard leaning against the counter. Everything looks neat and organized, if not completely done yet. As I’m watching, Leo emerges from the back, Tilly at his feet. He’s there all the time it seems—probably because they’ve moved into the apartment above the store. He studies something in his hands before placing a HELP WANTED sign in the window.
“Yeah, I bet you need help,” I mutter.
As if he hears me, he looks up, skimming our facade before finding the window where I’m standing.
I take a quick step back and hold my breath.
When I peek a minute later, he’s gone.
I’ve just put my mug in the sink when the bell at the front door downstairs jingles, announcing our first customer of the day. I peer through the railing to make sure Harvey’s got it covered, and… it’s him.
Leo looks around Happy Paws, and for a moment, I see it the way he might. A mishmash of cardboard cut-out animals in the window display, two old birdcages my grandma found at a flea market, stuffed dogs in cowboy costumes… I inhale the rich, musty smell of dry pet food as the radio plays faintly in the background. To me, it’s homey, but Leo looks like all his senses have been assaulted by a dressed-up monkey banging cymbals together. He’s above this, his flared nostrils say. His judgy nostrils.
But as I’m watching, Harvey steps out from behind the counter, and like that, Leo’s pinched discomfort transforms into a pleasant smile. The deception force is strong with this one. I should remember that. Fool me once, etcetera.
“Hello, there,” Harvey says in his usual jolly way. “How can I help you today?”
As quietly as I can, I squat lower to hear better. Leo looks around before stepping closer to Harvey. The dogs are resting near the bottom of the stairs. Cap and Boris ignore him, but Cholula lifts her head and growls at the uninvited visitor. That’s my girl.
“No, that’s no way to greet people,” Harvey admonishes her.
Cholula quiets down but stays vigilant.
“Hi,” Leo says, extending his hand toward my grandpa. “I wanted to stop in and introduce myself since we’re new neighbors. I’m Leo Salinger.”
“The Canine King.” Harvey nods but leaves Leo hanging a moment before shaking his hand.
I suppress a giggle when Leo startles at the firmness of Harvey’s grip. I’ve introduced a couple of boyfriends to him in the past, so I know this move.
“Harvey Morton,” Pop says.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Morton.”
Pop shakes his head. “Harvey is fine. Is the store coming along all right? I see you’ve been busy.”
“Slowly but surely.” Leo smiles again, and my fingers clench tight at his self-assured tone. “I’m inviting all the neighbors to the soft launch next Friday. We’ll have some drinks and appetizers, free samples, and live music. Hope you can make it.” He spots the corner where we keep our hamster cages. Currently Muffin and Ham Solo are our only two residents, and that’s fine by me. Cleaning out wood shavings was never my thing. Leo runs his palms down his shirt as if the mere sight of our facility makes him feel dirty.
How dare he insult Pop this way? I stand and grip the banister to propel myself downstairs. “You,” I say, loudly.
Leo spins around, surprise and something else brighter flickering across his features.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve coming in here.”
“My granddaughter, Cora,” Harvey says. “This is Leo Salinger of the Canine King.”
“Yeah, I know who he is.” I point at Leo. “You should have told me you’re the one opening that store when we met in the park. Seems a bit… wily… to keep that fact to yourself.”
He blinks. “Wily? If my memory serves me right, there were no introductions made from your side, either. I didn’t know who you were.”
That’s true. Ugh. “Whatever. Why are you here?”
“Um, I was inviting Mr. Morton—Harvey—to my opening next week.”
The nerve. No doubt all he wants is to show off. Look at my fancy store that makes yours look like a moth-eaten relic my sensitive nose can’t handle.
“You’re welcome to come, too, of course.” He shows me rows of pearly whites, and the star quarterback I once cheered on peeks out from behind the now more mature planes of his face. At least half the girls in my class had a crush on him at one point or another.
“We’ll be busy,” I growl. “As we are now. So, if you’ll excuse us, that would be splendid.”
To his credit, he flinches. His blue eyes look so innocent, but I know better. I know what these chain stores do. They eliminate the competition. What I don’t know is why the hell he is opening a Canine King here .
“Now, now, Cora.” Harvey puts a hand on my arm. “Manners.”
I shrug him off. I’m twenty-seven, not ten. “It’s not going to work, you know,” I continue. “Everyone knows Harvey. Our customers are loyal.”
Leo’s pupils darken. “That’s great,” he says snidely. “Then you should have nothing to worry about.” He clamps his jaw shut as soon as the words are out. Then he runs a hand through his hair and turns back to Harvey with the pleasant expression from earlier back in place. “What I meant was, I’m confident there are enough customers to go around.”
“I’m sure, I’m sure,” Harvey says.
“I guess we’ll see, won’t we?” I cross my arms.
Cholula lets out another growl as if to concur.
“I think that’s my cue.” Leo chuckles without any warmth. “Just wanted to be a good neighbor. Anyway, here’s my card.” He slides it across the counter like a smarmy salesman finishing his pitch.
Harvey picks it up with a nod, and for a moment, I think Leo is going to leave, but instead he glances down, a look of alarm coming over him. “What’s wrong with your dog?”
This again? I’m about to lay into him about how differences should be celebrated when he crouches by Cap and looks up at me. “We’ve got to do something.” His hand rests against Cap’s shaking shoulders.
Crap. “No, he’s fine. Don’t touch him.” I sit down next to Cap and lower my voice. “You’re okay, buddy.” He’s stiff as a board and jerking like an animatronic puppet, but there’s nothing to do but wait it out. Cholula and Boris lie down next to him. They know.
“He spaces out like that sometimes,” Harvey says. “Probably had a head injury before he was rescued. But the vet says it’s harmless.”
Leo looks skeptical.
“Don’t worry. It’ll be over soon.”
As soon as Pop says that, Cap shrugs as if a spell’s been lifted and sits down.
“Good boy,” I coo, petting his square brow. “All better?”
“Jeez. That was freaky.” Leo runs a hand through those wheat-colored strands. “Well, hey, if you ever decide you want a, um, different sort of dog, I can talk to my aunt about reserving an Aussie from one of her litters. She breeds them. Super reliable, great lineage, you know exactly what you’ll get.”
I dig my nails into my palms. “I’m sure you’re not suggesting we are looking to replace our dogs. Our family members ?”
“Okay, okay.” Harvey steps between us. “Leo, thanks for stopping by, but I think it’s best if you…”
“Yeah, sure.” He cuts his eyes between us. “I didn’t… Yes.”
My hands are shaking. That’s right. Take your broad shoulders and get lost.
I turn to Harvey, who’s watching me, displeased.
“What was that?” he asks.
“What was what?”
“I don’t normally know you to be rude. What brought that on?”
“He was insulting Cap.”
“I hardly think he meant it that way.”
I don’t like it when Pop scrutinizes me like this. Like he’s trying to find my soul. “Well…” I fling a hand in the direction of Canine King. “Doesn’t it bother you that he’s opening one of those here? We’re not exactly rolling in cash.”
“So, it’s about money?” Harvey blinks slowly. It’s his I’ve-taught-you-better look.
I examine the cracks between the floorboards. “I just think it’s a dick move.”
“Ha! Is that the official terminology?”
A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. “Should be.”
He puts an arm around my shoulders and pulls me close. “Come now. We’ll be fine. We’ve always been fine. Canine King has nothing on Happy Paws. We’ve been here forever; you said so yourself. If you think about it, he’s the one who is the underdog, no pun intended.”
“If you say so.”
“That’s the spirit. Now let’s not mind Leo Salinger and what he’s doing anymore. We have inventory and cleaning to do. And you were going to check your internet thingamajig for more work.”
He’s right. We do have enough going on without adding a stuck-up pretty boy to the list. After a fortifying breath, I open the browser on the old computer that sits on the counter and navigate to the Flockify server to check for responses to my post.
Welcome to Living History Illinois beams at me in bright blocky letters on the landing page. The column on the left lists the sub-channels—General Forum, Mobsters, Sports of Yore, Historical Foods, Illinois in the News, and, because the server apparently started as a project at another Chicago-land high school, several “class of” channels where former students can keep in touch with their dispersed friends. A Memes channel and a Quizzes channel have also been added since last I was here. The channels I most often frequent are Period Dress, Famous People, and Historical Reenactments, though. That’s where the potential money is.
There are no responses to my original post in the Period Dress channel, so I head to Famous People where I repost it to create a wider net. Cross my fingers, hope to die.
I’m about to close out of it when the message before mine stops me. It’s from yesterday and posted by that same guy who tried to moderate me before.
AlCaponesGhost25 Wednesday 10:22 PM
What’s the legal term for when Al Capone goes camping?
I let out an amused huff and lean closer. “Aren’t we a contradiction?” I mumble.
“Something interesting?” Harvey asks.
“Someone posted a riddle.” Curiosity piqued, I click on the avatar (a picture of the Colosseum in Rome) but there’s not much information to be gleaned. He is indeed a moderator and also a verified user. His location status is set to “international,” whatever that means.
Harvey chuckles. “Ah, your kryptonite.”
Mine and my grandma’s. When she was alive, we had whole text threads with riddles going back and forth. She was a master.
“Do you know it?” Harvey asks.
I tap my fingertips against the tabletop. “Give me a minute and I will.” The rusted gears in my brain churn into motion. Al Capone, camping, mob, crime, campfire, sleeping bag… Hmm… Got it!
SingerQueen Thursday 12:7 PM
Easy—Criminal intent.
After a moment’s deliberation, I decide to return his serve with one of my grandma’s favorites.
SingerQueen Thursday 12:8 PM
But do you know who built King Arthur’s round table?
Unfortunately, my momentary distraction from the threat across the street doesn’t last long. All afternoon, hammering and clanging interrupts our calm at irregular intervals like some kind of water torture, and by the time we close up and I set off for home, my rage at Leo Salinger’s presence has once again reached combustible levels.