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This is actually true.
He nods. “I’m private security.”
“Oh! Is the dog famous?”
That rattles him as he leads me through the front door, nonverbal body language making it clear I’m to go in first.
“Huh?”
“The dog. You’re here to protect the dog?”
He pauses, then says, “Something like that.”
“I’m Simon,” I lie, looking up at the house’s foyer. It’s nice, big and open, sunny and modern. “Wow. Nice place.”
“Thanks.”
“What’s your name?”
“Doesn’t matter. You’re about to meet Paigelynn and Winnie. You’re here to teach Paigelynn how to help her dog.”
“Sure.”
Another man walks in, taller and thinner, but with the same coloring. Father and son? That would make sense, in a cult.
A sound at the top of the stairs makes me look up.
All my emotions, all my hormones, every bit of fear and trauma and fuckuppery that’s just happened to me catches in my throat.
Because I did it.
I got to this point.
And nothing is going to stop me.
Paigelynn’s eyes catch mine and she gasps, then covers the sound with a little cough.
“Jason! Is this the dog obedience trainer?” she says as she descends, dressed in lavender leggings, a long cream-colored sweatshirt, and white ankle socks with white running shoes. Her hair is in a long ponytail, and she is a vision.
My heart beats even faster.
“I’m Simon!”
The jingle of a dog’s collar comes behind her as she descends the stairs, little Winnie making her way down. As they both reach the foyer with me, Jason, and the other guard, her eyes catch mine, wide and full of questions.
Just go along with it, I tell her in my mind, wishing telepathy really were one of the powers she’s convinced she has as a future Queen of the World.
“I’m Simon,” I repeat, one of her eyebrows going up as I bend down to pet Winnie. “And you must be our good little girl.”
“More like a bad little girl who needs a lot of your attention,” Paigelynn says, laughing. “We need so much professional help.”
“Trouble in a tiny package?” I joke as Jason watches us talk, the other guy on his phone now.
“Yes. SO much trouble,” Paigelynn murmurs. “You’re a professional dog trainer?”
“I am. Been doing it for about ten years. I’m no César Millán, but I try.”
Paigelynn frowns. “César Millán?”
