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He holds his phone at arm’s length, talking to the camera. “Hey guys, this is Sebastian, your favorite dog trainer. Today, I’m here with a special guy that’s got a problem we can all understand. A few extra ell-bees to drop . . .”
He goes on to take Chunky and the viewers on a workout regimen that involves a lot of sitting, begging, and lying down and getting up. Thankfully, Chunky does pretty well, even when Sebastian removes the leash so his feet don’t keep getting tangled up in it. “Usually, when training one of my special friends, I’d use a small treat as a reward, but that won’t work for Chunky. So instead, I use a ball as reward, letting him focus and follow it, and only occasionally, get control of it. Once he finds it to be an exciting treat, you can add playing fetch to his daily regimen.”
Sebastian throws the ball, and Chunky goes running after it as expected. The only problem? Chunky doesn’t play fetch, so when he gets to the ball he desperately wanted, he drops to the grass to play with it. Sebastian growls and lowers his phone. “Seriously?”
Wow, bro-dude has left the building again. Sebastian’s easygoing until something messes up his shots. Then he’s a quick-tempered dick. I wonder if that had anything to do with Richard Horne’s death? I might not have found out the poison, but some personality traits might be telling.
“Uh, he doesn’t know fetch. Sorry.”
Sebastian sighs. “It’s fine. I’ll finish another way.” He blinks twice and lifts the phone again, flipping a mental switch to become friendly and smiling. “Guess we’ll have to add teaching Chunky the return part of fetch.” He laughs and points at Chunky in the frame before rolling his eyes in a charmingly cute ‘whatcha gonna do’ way.
He lowers the phone, and it’s like that never happened, as though that personality didn’t just pop out of him on command. “All right, dude. Think we got it. Anything else?”
“No, I think that’s everything.” I wish there were another angle to ask about the smoothie extras, but without outright accusation, there’s no way.
But there is one other thing . . .
“I’ll let you get on to whatever you have planned for the day. Hot date?” I guess with a gleam in my eye that begs for details even though I’m terrified at what he’s going to say. I prepare to keep my expression neutral.
“Nothing big. Hanging with another client. That one comes with fringe benefits, though, if you know what I mean.” He winks, nudging me with his elbow again.
That is information I can use, especially if he’s talking about Yvette. I smile back, punching him in the shoulder like I’m celebrating with him. “You sly dog. I bet you get all sorts of fringe benefits—clients and followers.”
Sebastian smirks, nodding. “You know it.” But then he leans in closer. “This one’s different, though.”
I pretend to be flabbergasted, whispering urgently. “The Dog Whisperer has a lady? Even with all the ‘gram ladies throwing it your way? Don’t tell me you’re getting locked down, dude?”
“Hell no.” He laughs so hard he snorts. “I got me a Sugar Momma. Blonde cougar who’s hungry for the D.”
He pats his hips as he brags, so certain that I’ll be . . . jealous? And blonde cougar could describe Yvette Horne.
Unless Sebastian’s got two clients who fit that profile?
“Good for you,” I say, playing along. “Going to see my girl too. Not a Sugar Momma, but Zoey’s pretty special.”
I drop her name, hoping Sebastian will do the same.
“Sounds like we’re killing it, dude!” Sebastian holds both hands up for high-fives and I slap palms with him. “Hit me up again if the big guy needs another session.”
“Yeah, will do.” Damn it, no name drop.
Sebastian throws me a wave and struts off toward the parking lot. I’m literally watching my chance walk away.
Do something! Anything! What can I do to get more information?
An idea hits me—a stupid and dangerous idea.
“Chunky!” I call at the same time I start jogging toward my dog. He doesn’t move from his spot in the grass, only covering the ball protectively so I don’t take it away. “I don’t want your ball, dumbass. Let’s go!” I clip the leash on his collar, but he doesn’t move. I pull gently, and Chunky lets out a whine of disagreement. “Ride? Wanna go for a ride?”
That’s the magic word, because he hops up and takes off for the gate with fresh energy. I open the car door, but Chunky can’t get in on his own yet, so I pick him up and quickly get him in place with his seatbelt on.
I’m hurrying, but I won’t forego safety.
Pulling out of the parking lot, I take off down the road after Sebastian’s truck. I’d love to say I put the pedal to the medal, but I can’t. However, I do go a reasonable five miles an hour over the speed limit.
