10
D ifferent possible scenarios for how to keep sabotaging Leo’s peace of mind play before me as I walk to work. Do I sign him up for a wake-up call service? Put fake bullet holes on his windows and cordon off the door?
I take out my key as I reach our street and approach the mailbox. Maybe a surprise confetti bomb would send the right message. I bite my lip, pondering this as I open the mail hatch, and I have my hand halfway there when I register what’s in front of me.
“Gah! What the hell?” I recoil in horror at the sight of the enormous brown recluse guarding our mail. I freaking hate spiders.
Every hair on my body stands at attention as my mind struggles to compute. What do I do? Do we just never get mail again? No, that’s probably not a viable option.
I squint at the eight long, pointy legs, and a ripple of phantom prickles runs up my arm as if my body already knows what it would feel like to have the creature use me as its personal runway. What I need is a stick or a can of elephant tranquilizer or a bazooka. I look around at the ground as if weapons of mass destruction will suddenly materialize, but as I run through my options, it occurs to some deep part of my consciousness that the arachnid in question didn’t move when I opened the hatch. It also occurs to me that it’s watching me a little too intently. Against my better judgment, I take a step closer.
“Nice spidey,” I whisper.
Fishing through my purse, I find a pencil that’s long enough to provide some distance and very, very carefully, I stick it into the mailbox and nudge my nightmare.
It stays exactly the same.
I nudge again, harder this time, and it tips over.
What? Finally, my shoulders relax, and I get close enough to see what I maybe should have guessed from the beginning. This is no ordinary recluse—it’s fake.
I don’t even have to think about it before I spin around to face Canine King, and there’s Leo, bright red in the face and wiping tears from his eyes.
You should have seen yourself , he mimes.
All I can do is shake my head and shoot virtual daggers. Now he’s just asking for it.
Grinding my teeth together, I pick up the rubber spider (I admit, it still makes me shudder) and the mail and storm inside.
“Good morning!” Harvey calls upon hearing the bell.
“Is it?” I mutter.
“Did you say something?”
“Nothing. Hi, Pop.” I put the mail down and throw the spider in the garbage. This time I’m going to have to think of something epic.
“I’ll be down in a bit. Will you put up the doorbuster sign?”
“Sure thing.”
The deal this week is buy a collar, get a free toy, and I’m pretty proud of the poster I drew Saturday. It’s one of my best ones yet, I think as I tape up the first corner, colorful with shaded lettering and a sweet pup off to the side.
Leo is doing the same inside Canine King, but about discounted dog food, and his sign has text only. He notices me a second later, and as soon as he does, he reenacts what I assume is supposed to be my reaction to the spider. He pretends to poke something in the air and jumps back, scrunching up his face with hilarity. In return, I pretend to crank up my middle finger, which makes his features return to RBF (resting brat face).
I finish taping up the poster, trying to get my irritation to recede, but when I look again, Leo has taken down his sign and is writing something on it. When done, he smacks it up against the pane, and even from where I’m standing, I can see what it says: BUY A COLLAR, GET TWO FREE TOYS!
He did not.
He raises his chin as if to say “Take that.”
“Insufferable,” I mutter. “Pop, can we do a different promo this week?” I call up to Harvey as I head toward storage. “Or add something to sweeten the deal?” Maybe we have some superfluous junk in there we can include to one-up Leo’s offer. And balloons to embellish our sign.
There’s no immediate response, so I yell louder, “Pop, did you hear me?”
“Hold your horses, I’m coming,” he calls back, but before his voice has rung out, Cap lets out a loud bark upstairs, followed by a shout from Harvey, and then I hear a long string of dull thuds as something goes tumbling down the stairs.
For a split second, I can’t move, but when the noise stops, the paralysis breaks, and I rush to the front. “Pop?”
Harvey is at the foot of the stairs, moaning. I crouch by him, my hands flitting across his shoulders. There’s no blood, but he’s obviously in pain. “Pop, can you hear me?”
“My leg,” Harvey groans, his hand jerking to his right side.
Behind me, the bell jingles, and heavy steps reach us in a hurry.
“I’ve called 9-1-1,” Leo says. “I saw him fall from my window.” He surveys the length of my grandpa’s supine body and leans closer. “Harvey, how are you doing? Stay with us, okay? An ambulance is on the way.”
“I think it’s his leg or hip.”
“It’s a pretty steep fall,” Leo says, looking up.
I follow his gaze, and there’s Boris at the top of the stairs. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what happened.
The five minutes it takes for the medics to show up are the longest of my life. Harvey is clasping my hand tight, so I know he’s alert, but his face is greenish white with pain.
“Miss, are you coming?” one of the medics asks as they’re loading Harvey into the ambulance.
I look from the gurney to the store. A knot forms in my throat as I check my watch. “We’re supposed to open in… I’d have to lock up first.”
“We’re taking him to Delnor. You can follow us,” the medic says, closing the doors.
“But I don’t have a car.”
Leo, who has been lingering off to the side, takes a step closer. “I can drive you. Do what you need to do here, and we’ll follow them.”
I look up at him. Analyze his face for ulterior motives. There is nothing but concern in his expression. “Are you sure? Aren’t you busy?”
“This seems more important.” To the medic he says, “We’ll be there shortly.”
After the ambulance leaves, Leo escorts me back into the store and tells me to come over when I’m ready.
I nod numbly, but not until Cap’s black nose presses into my hand do I snap into action. The dogs, the store…
“One thing at a time, Cora,” I say to myself. “What would Harvey do?” The store is eerily silent as if it knows not to encroach on my already strained mental state. “Okay, pups—up you go.” I bring the dogs up to the apartment and make sure they have water. Boris is under the table, and he looks more miserable than usual, so I take a moment to reassure him it wasn’t his fault. “I do think we need to put a bell on you though. Before you actually kill someone.”
I put the gate up at the top of the stairs to keep them contained and double-check that the sign on the front door says we’re closed before I hurry across the street. Outside Canine King, I pause for a moment. Inhale. Exhale. I can’t see Leo inside, but Tilly watches me through the window, and maybe it’s those kind, brown eyes that help me finally turn the handle.
Into the lion’s den I go.