Page 32 of The Other Guy

“Things?”

Sierra sighs. “Don’t make fun but I make special outfits for pets and sell them online. Some I do custom for special requests.”

“Let me see,” I ask, nudging her with my elbow.

Another sigh. “Fine,” she grits out playfully and hands me her phone after swiping to open a folder in her photos app.

I look through picture after picture of dogs and cats dressed up in outfits that range from wedding dresses to Superman costumes. I must admit, as over the top as these pets look, they’re not only hilarious but also cute as hell. “A Wonder Woman bulldog might just be the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.” I turn the phone so Dad can see and he laughs heartily.

“That’s great. Damn, I love the world we live in. That you can make a living making animals look like humans.”

“Right? I love it. It’s so much fun and allows me to be creative. It suits me. It might sound silly to some,” she says with a sadness in her voice that makes me swallow hard. Some isn’t just a blanket term. It’s someone in particular, I just know it. “But to me, it’s perfect. And it makes people happy, too.”

“What more could you want?” My dad smiles at her and we continue to chat and eat. Our waitress comes over and asks if Sierra would like anything and she orders a plate of fries before promising me that she won’t share hers.

Sierra explains how she got into making clothes for pets; that she was messing around one day dressing up her boyfriend’s dog (we won’t talk about how much I hate being reminded that she has a boyfriend) for Halloween and after posting pictures on Instagram, she started getting requests. Within a few months, her little side project had become a business.

The more she talks about it, the more animated she becomes and it’s impossible to miss the passion she feels. Her hands are waving in the air and her voice has gone up a few octaves. Dad and I can’t get a word in edge wise — can’t even ask her questions because she’s talking so fast. I’m leaning an elbow on the table with my body angled toward hers, listening intently as she goes on and on about a poodle she dressed up in black leather and the owner was some badass Harley rider. She could hardly get the words out when she was explaining how shocked she was when the owner sent her pictures of the two of them together. Her melodic laughter was contagious.

The fact that I just called her laughter melodic sends a flood of worry through my veins. I like Sierra far too much for a girl who’s made it clear she has a boyfriend. For a girl who doesn’t live around here, and rather with someone.

“So tell me about Jack as a young boy.”

“My dad adopted me when I was seventeen.”

“Huh? Oh! I just thought…”

“It’s a long story, but Dad and Mom met when I was sixteen.”

She doesn’t push for details, rather asks, “Okay then, Jack as a teenager. Was he a pain in the ass?”

“Only once in a while.”

“Hey!”

Dad laughs. “Just kidding. He really was a good kid, still is. And he always was. Hard working, loved cooking with me and experimenting in the kitchen.”

“For real?”

“Oh, yeah. He once planned to become a chef but had the nerve to change his interests.”

He winks at me and I shake my head.

“No way! You planned to feed people for a living and now you just torture them?” she asks incredulously, those dark eyes twinkling.

“That’s right. I just love making people miserable and healthy.”

“What else?”

“Hated school.”

“What teenager enjoys it?” I challenge with a raised eyebrow.

“Your sister.”

“Yes, well, she’s weird.”

Dad snorts. “Anyway, he went to school, succeeded in graduating, shared his first kiss with his cousin.”

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