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Living History Illinois Flockify DM, Monday 12:15 PM
AlCaponesGhost25: Just checking in. Getting a lot done?
SingerQueen: Tons. You ever get ‘in flow’ and lose hours?
AlCaponesGhost25: God, I forgot about that feeling. I played football when I was younger, and some games were magical like that.
SingerQueen: But not since?
AlCaponesGhost25: I guess not.
SingerQueen: Sounds like you need to reevaluate your life. *winky face emoji*
AlCaponesGhost25: Working on it.
W ednesday afternoon drags, the hours leading up to training longer than is polite. I keep checking the clock and being disappointed. I don’t know what’s changed, but I’m not dreading spending time with Leo anymore. I frown, glancing across the street. Am I looking forward to it?
When six o’clock finally rolls around, I hurry to close out the system and register, round up the pack, and head across the street.
The lights are on inside Canine King, but Leo is nowhere to be seen. Tilly greets us alone.
“Hello?” I call. “Anyone here?”
No answer.
“Where is he?” I ask Tilly. “Upstairs?” How irresponsible of him to leave the store unlocked and unattended. Out of character, even.
I’m about to call for him again when there’s a loud ruckus in the back.
I tell the dogs to stay put and go to investigate.
“Stay where you are,” I hear Leo say in a tight voice. “No. Stay.”
Is he talking to me? “Leo?”
Silence.
Is there someone in there with him? What if he’s being robbed? I look around for something to use as a weapon but come up short. My heart is racing as I tiptoe the last few steps to his storage room. I peer around the corner, and there’s Leo, alone on top of a hay bale. No intruder. I relax and enter the room. “What’s going on? Who were you talking to?”
He waves at me to stop. “Shh. Don’t move.” His eyes roam the floor beneath him.
“Why are you up there?” I can’t believe I didn’t think to incorporate hay bales into my decor. I’ll have to rectify that. You’re not supposed to bring them inside though. Sometimes they have fleas and other critt—
“Ah!” Leo shouts, pointing at the floor. “There.”
A tiny mouse runs out from under a shelf and disappears beneath another. I look from the floor to Leo’s colorless face and back again. The mouse comes back out and sniffs the air.
“Aw, so cute.” I crouch down to get a closer look, and it doesn’t seem scared at all.
“No, not cute.” Leo shudders from his high perch. “It’s disgusting.”
I straighten and assess the situation, trying my best not to smile. “I take it you don’t like rodents.”
“You wouldn’t either if you’d woken up one night when you were five with a mouse inside your pajama shirt. Can you get it out of here? Tilly was no help at all.”
Yikes, that would do it. Still, I pretend to think about it. “Not sure if I should. You were pretty smug about the spider in the mailbox.”
“I’m sorry, okay? Just please.” Leo looks down, another shudder making him adjust his stance on the bale. “I going to stay here until it’s gone, so unless you want to miss training…”
“Yeah, no. That seems unnecessary. Do you have any peanut butter upstairs?”
“I do.”
“Okay give me your keys.”
Leo hesitates. “You’re going into my apartment?”
His reluctance is intriguing. He let Jaz up there. What is it he doesn’t want me to see? “Do you want me to get rid of the mouse or not?”
He digs his key out of his pocket and tosses it to me. “Please be quick.”
Opening the door to his place feels exactly like entering my parents’ bedroom when I was little. I wasn’t allowed in there unless there was an emergency, so it was forever a place shrouded in mystery where possible treasures might be hidden. I snuck in once in fifth grade and went through Mom’s jewelry chest. I lived on that high for a while.
The space smells like Leo but in more concentrated form. I inhale deeply and make my way to his kitchen cabinets. I would have expected to find a stash of health foods on sparsely stocked shelves, but the offerings are surprisingly normal. A package of Oreos sits next to a box of granola. There are English muffins and white rice. His fridge has yogurts and eggs but also beer and takeout leftovers. Yeah, I know the peanut butter isn’t likely to be in the fridge, but despite the saying, I’m not sure curiosity ever has killed the cat. I may never get this chance again.
Satisfied with my findings, I grab the peanut butter and an empty Tupperware container and set course for the door. I almost miss the letter, but my gaze snags on it at the final moment. Like Jaz said, it’s sitting in the middle of the table. Calling my name. A quick look, that’s all.
Careful not to disturb the envelope, I read the full address of the sender. It’s from a Samantha Salinger, and the postal address is in Seattle. “Maybe he has a sister?” I mumble. If not, the last name takes on a whole different meaning.
The stairs outside creak, and I jump back. Time to get out of here.
Leo hasn’t moved when I return.
“Took you long enough,” he says, jaw tense.
I ignore him and get down on the floor. Who is Samantha? “Where did you last see it?”
He points, and I smear a dab of the sweet and savory spread on the floorboard. “Here, mousy, mousy,” I coo. “Got you a treat.”
It doesn’t take long before the little critter emerges, whiskers shivering. It heads straight for the food, and once it’s there, I lower the container over it. I slide a piece of cardboard beneath it, and, voilà, the mouse is airborne. “There. You’re safe,” I tell Leo.
“Thanks,” he says, tightly, finally stepping down. “Let’s get going.”
I don’t argue. We’ve already lost a half hour of our time.
“Sorry you had to see me like that.” Leo doesn’t look at me as we walk into the field.
I shrug. “Everyone has their quirks. I only swim in pools where I can see the bottom. You’ll never catch me in the ocean or a lake.” I shudder. “Those pesky sharks…”
“Still. Not my finest moment.”
“At least you got some decorations. I forgot about hay bales.”
“You can have them. I’m not touching those things.”
“You could put them outside.”
“Not worth it.” His mouth pulls into a wry smile. “You’d be doing me a favor. Another one,” he corrects.
“You’ll lose the bet.”
He grimaces. “Let’s face it. I was never going to win at Halloween decorating. At this, on the other hand…” He points to the training area ahead. “Tilly and I will take you guys down.”
“Yeah, how’s that recall coming along?”
“We’re slow on the uptake, that’s all. Dark horses always are. And then—surprise ending.” He claps his hands together, startling both me and the dogs. Cholula circles back toward us, growls at Leo, and runs away again. “Speaking of surprises…” He jogs to the shed and returns with two blue canvas circles. “I had these shipped here. They’re tunnels to practice with.”
He ordered one for me, too? Dark horse, indeed. “That’s amazing. Cho’s never seen one of those.”
“Neither has Tilly.” He tilts his head, lips pursed, thinking. “Care to make things interesting?”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Ten bucks on the dog that goes through the tunnel the most times.”
Hell, I just won a bet not five minutes ago. I’m game.
What ensues is a frenzy of cajoling, bribery, begging, and encouragement. Shouts of “Good girl,” “Wrong way,” “Yes, you’ve got it,” and “Again!” ring out in the evening air. Leo and I are getting as much exercise as the dogs, if not more, and despite the cool temperatures, we both soon discard our jackets on the fence post.
Twenty minutes in and Tilly and Cholula have made it through their tunnels only one time each. They’re fired up and fully invested in the game, but neither cares for the tunnel. I don’t know how many times Cholula has gone halfway through only to turn around and come back.
“I think that should count,” I say. “Two halves of a tunnel still make a whole even if it’s the same half twice.”
“No dice.” Leo shakes his head at me. Behind him, Tilly runs straight through his tunnel.
“She did it!” I point. “You missed it.”
He turns in time to see Cap also going through. We both cheer, and at the sound, the beagle mix gladly runs back through it, pivots, and makes a third run.
“That’s one for Cho, two for Tilly, and three for Cap,” I summarize.
“Cap wasn’t in on it.”
“Sure, he was. You said, ‘the dog.’ No names were specified.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Agree to disagree.”
I shake my head. “Why do you always say that?”
“Maybe I don’t feel like arguing.”
“Said the person scared to lose the argument.”
Leo lifts his finger as if to correct me, but then lets it fall. “Damn, I’ve got nothing.”
“That’s what I thought. Now, are we doing this or what?”
“Oh, you’re on. Tilly, let’s get ’em.”
“Come on, Cho,” I call. She’s over by the fence, sniffing. When she hears my voice, she barks loudly and sits down. What now? As I approach, she circles the area and starts whining. “What is it? We’ve got a bet to win, girl.”
Then I see it. Boris’s leash, but no Boris.