“Seriously, Darnell?” Maggie scolded.
“What? I’m kidding! Cora is perfect just the way she is.”
“Nice save,” Cora said glumly.
“She’s here for montage madness, but I’m not sure you’re invited anymore, D. Muzzle yourself, okay? Cora had a bad night so we need to cheer her up with some couture,” Maggie said as they walked through the empty store, ignoring the bitchy reps at the makeup counters.
“Oh, your wish is my command, baby! I got nothing else to do. Our department is going to be Whitney Houston all day.”
His cheer was infectious, so Cora moved past his hurtful comments and looked at him questioningly.
“D-e-a-d like Whitney in the bathtub.”
“Too soon, D,” Maggie said, shaking her head.
The gown salon was an explosion of sumptuous fabrics and sparkle. Some of the dresses were so ornate, laden with layers of tulle and heavy beading, that they hung on their own racks, looking like the first attendee to a fairy-tale ball. The clothing was such a departure from Cora’s daily life of button-down shirts, jeans, drool, and fur that she couldn’t help but be enchanted by the over-the-top femininity of it all.
“Can you guys get in trouble for letting me try this stuff on? I sort of feel like a criminal. And I sure don’t look like I belong here.”
“You’re not going to steal anything, you’re going to try things on and see if you happen to fall in love with a piece. Because you have that special event coming up, right?” Maggie winked. “Oh, and look, you’re in our appointment book!” Maggie scribbled something in the leather-bound book on the service desk.
“I do always say that you find the dress first and the event will follow,” Darnell added solemnly.
“Right. So maybe if I buy this”—Cora checked the price tag of a beaded black gown hanging near her—“five-thousand-five-hundred-eighty-dollar Givenchy gown I’ll get invited to a state dinner?”
“You never know!” Darnell answered.
“So should I just grab stuff? How does this work?”
“Darnell is going to get you all set up, sweetheart. Now let me take a look at you.” He circled Cora, pretending that he’d never seen her before. “You look like a . . . six. But in couture you might be an eight. Those bitches.”
“I haven’t worn a dress in so long that I have no clue what size I am. I’m in your capable hands.”
“Perfect! Maglomaniac, please see this gorgeous young debutante to a fitting room.”
Maggie escorted Cora to a large room with mirrors on every wall. “Get nekkid, girlie. We’ll be in with some options in a second.”
Cora stared at herself up close in the full-coverage mirror. She hadn’t felt this down since just after the breakup, and she wasn’t sure why. She doubted that the fancy dresses would do much to cheer her up, especially when she looked so blotchy and puffy from crying.
Darnell tapped on the door as Cora slid her leggings off. She peeked out the door and saw that both he and Maggie had a stack of dresses in their arms.
“Time to start mainlining some serious sparkle,” Darnell said. “It’s impossible to feel sad in glitter. We’re gonna start with floor-length stuff then move on to cocktail. I want to see you in this Donna Karan first, then the Léger, then the Stella just to switch things up. Slay us, baby.”
“Wait a sec,” she said, running her hand down a nightgown-thin peach silk dress midway through the stack. “I’m not trying this one. If it’s this wrinkled on a hanger, it’s going to be a nightmare on my body.”
“That’s nineties Calvin Klein realness, I’ll have you know. Kate Moss waif shit. I order you to try it,” Darnell answered. “And besides, if it looks good on you, you can always keep it looking tight with that steamer your girl stole from our employer.”
“Darnell! They were throwing it out!” Maggie exclaimed and widened her eyes at him. “It was in the trash, totally broken. I didn’t steal it!”
“Uh-huh, okay. Whatever you say.”
They walked away bickering like a married couple.
The Donna Karan dress was a simple strapless column of black sequins, with some forgiving ruching at the waistline. Cora stepped into it and was surprised by the weight of the dress. She contorted herself to pull the zipper all the way up, and when she turned to look in the mirror she was shocked.
The dress transformed her, accentuating every curve and hiding any perceived flaws. She looked stunning, even with red-rimmed eyes and unruly hair. The sequins rippled like moonlight on water when she walked. The high slit in back wasn’t just to give the dress added sex appeal—it was so formfitting that without it Cora would have been forced to take baby steps. Even she couldn’t deny that she looked amazing in it.
She walked out to the main room. “Guys? What do you think?”
Darnell turned around and screamed.
“Is that good?” Cora laughed.
“Yes. That’s good.”
Maggie stood a few steps away with her hand over her mouth. “Holy shit, I forgot that you have a body! Look at your glorious tits! How are they so goddamned perky in a strapless dress?”
“Yeah, I’m not going to argue with you. I look pretty awesome in this. And you know I never say that.” She spun around slowly so they could take her in.
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that you look good in anything! Cora, you look perfect.”
Darnell appraised the dress from a distance, like an art critic getting ready to weigh in on a sculpture. “Yes, this one is good, really good, but now that I see what you’re workin’ with”—he gestured to her body—“there’s no doubt that the Léger will be even better. Go put that one on.”
Standing in front of the triptych mirror in the middle of the department, Cora shifted her weight from one hip to the other, miming party laughter and turning so that she could see how she looked from the back.
“Yes, your ass looks good, too,” Maggie chastised. “Go change!”
Cora went back to the dressing room, slipped off the dress and peeked at the tag. $2,995.00, unthinkable. She took the gold Léger dress off the hanger and checked the price before putting it on. $1,990. Better, she thought, even though she rarely spent over $50 on any article of clothing.
The Léger didn’t look promising, reminding Cora of vintage shapewear, with seams that accentuated the bustline and hips. Even tighter than the Karan, this one had the added challenge of Léger’s signature bandage-like horizontal strips laced with spandex. Cora eased the shimmering fabric up her body with her back to the mirror. It felt like a good, snug pair of leggings. She pulled the thin straps onto her shoulders, smoothed the twin vertical seams down the front of the dress, and turned to look at herself.
Holy shit. Her jaw dropped.
Darnell had been right, the Léger was better in every way. While the black dress flattered her, the shimmering gold of the Léger made her skin look incandescent. The bandages managed to both slim her and accentuate her curves at the same time. The subtle mermaid swoop at the bottom of the gown gave the skintight gown a modicum of class. She felt like a goddess.
Cora walked out to the sales floor and posed seductively with her hand resting on a jutted-out hip. “How ya like me now?” she drawled.
Maggie whooped like a cowboy. “Holy shit! Holy shit! You must own that dress and wear it every day! I didn’t think the Karan could be topped but look at you in Léger!” She turned to Darnell to get his opinion and stopped. “Oh my God, Darnell, are you crying?”
“A little.” He sniffled dramatically. “She looks so perfect in that dress, and I’m crying because I knew she would.” He pounded the desk. “I was born to do this.”
Cora laughed. “You were! You’re a dress savant. Now can we get back to me and how good I look?”
“Usually Léger is too Real Housewives of New Jersey, but you make it look elegant. I’m so proud of our scruffy little dog trainer!” He tilted his head, appraising her again. “I need to do something real
ly quick, come here.” Darnell ducked behind the counter, grabbed a makeup bag, and ran a few brushes over Cora’s eyelids, brows, and cheeks. She looked in the mirror and was once again stunned by what she saw. In a few strokes he had changed the landscape of her face.
“Now, can I ring you up, baby? Because when a dress looks like this, it’s meant to be. You have an event in your future, I feel it! So buy the dress already,” Darnell insisted. “I’ll be your date to whatever it is, even if it’s some weird dogs and cats party.”
“I’d give you my employee discount . . . ,” Maggie offered.
“Plus it’s going to go on end-of-season sale soon. Markdowns galore,” Darnell added.
“Guys, I have no reason to buy something like this. I’m not fancy. And I’d have a really hard time spending so much on a dress.”
Maggie snorted. “You know you could totally afford it. You work nonstop, and you never go out. Buy the dress, audition for that damn show, and then save it for when you’re up for an Emmy.”
Cora rolled her eyes and shook her head.
Darnell started to visibly deflate.
“I promise, if something la-di-da comes up in my world, I will come back and buy this dress. Scout’s honor.” She held up three fingers.
“Deal,” Maggie answered.
“Hating you,” Darnell said with a pout.
Cora grabbed Maggie’s phone from the counter and looked at the time. “I have to go, I have a client this afternoon—the one whose dog I’m worried about. Time for me to change back into a pumpkin.”
SEVENTEEN
* * *
Cora made it to Beth Ann’s building with six minutes to spare. Even though Beth Ann had given permission for her to go straight up, she paused in the lobby to see if Eli might be around. The only other person in the cavernous space was the doorman, who didn’t look up from his phone as Cora raced to the elevator. Once again Cora heard Chanel’s barking the minute she stepped into the hall, which led her to believe that her client might be late again, or worse yet, a no-show.
She knocked and triggered a more intense barrage of sound from behind the door, a combination of shrieking howls and mad scratching. She waited, convinced that she was being stood up, until she heard the doorknob rattle.
“Did we have a lesson scheduled for today?” Beth Ann looked like she had just gotten out of bed.
Cora was dumbfounded. “Yes, uh, we do. Every Friday at two for the next three weeks. You picked the day and time, remember?”
Beth Ann rubbed her eyes and looked down at Chanel, who was running into the hallway to jump on Cora, then back into the apartment over and over again. “I’m sorry, I totally forgot.” She was wearing an oversize sweatshirt with the neck cut out so that her shoulder was exposed and overlong pajama bottoms that were dirty at the bottom from being stepped on. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a greasy bun, and her face was splotchy and pale. She wouldn’t look Cora in the eyes.
“Are you sick? Do you need to reschedule?”
“No, no, it’s fine. We can do it now, come in.” Beth Ann turned and shuffled into her apartment, beckoning Cora to follow.
“You know what? I want to take Chanel on a quick walk before we get started. It looks like you’re just waking up, so she probably has to potty. I’ve got a leash, don’t worry about finding yours.” Beth Ann nodded and walked away, and Cora reached into her bag to grab it as well as a pair of nail clippers. She had wanted to show Beth Ann how to begin the desensitization process for nail clipping, but she wasn’t even sure if they were going to have a real lesson. Cora couldn’t bear the thought of the dog walking on stiletto claws for another day.
Cora leashed Chanel up on the tiles right in front of the door. As predicted, the little dog squatted and let out a stream of urine the moment Cora touched her to clip on the leash.
“We’ll be back,” she shouted into the dark apartment, not expecting to hear an answer.
Chanel walked to the elevator briskly and Cora used their time alone to assess the unfortunate little dog. Beth Ann was an unfit pet parent, but Cora wasn’t sure what impact the neglect had had on Chanel. Some dogs that grow up in a deprived home environment are so nervous about life outside the front door that they completely shut down when presented with anything new, while others seem unflappable and well adjusted no matter how dire their circumstances.
Cora knelt and petted Chanel during the elevator ride down to the lobby. Though she loved dogs of all sizes and breeds, there was no sugarcoating the fact that the little dog was an odd-looking creature. The dirty patchy fur, stained eyes, talon nails, and snaggle tooth made her seem like an unloved street dog, even though she was living in an expensive high-rise with a young woman who seemed to have unlimited shopping funds.
Cora lifted her hand to her nose and sniffed. Chanel smelled awful.
The little dog high-stepped through the lobby like she did it every day. She didn’t seem scared or nervous, which made Cora feel slightly better about her circumstances. Maybe she did get walked every so often?
“Excuse me,” the guard called out. “Is that your dog? Because you’re going to need a visitor’s pass if you’ve got a dog with you.”
“No, this is Beth Ann Devlin’s dog. She’s in number one-one-one-five.”
“Miss Devlin has a dog?” He frowned and typed something on the tablet in front of him. “Huh, I guess it says here that she does. I had no idea.”
“Are you at this desk a lot?”
“Yup, all day every day.”
“And you’ve never seen her with this dog?”
“Nope, never.”
“Oh, wow. Okay, thank you.” Cora continued toward the large double doors and looked down at Chanel. “How in the world am I going to make this better?”
Chanel dragged Cora to the closest grassy patch and immediately emptied what was left in her bladder. The little dog obviously wanted to be clean, but Beth Ann didn’t give her the opportunity to potty where she was supposed to. After she finished her business, which also included a compact pile of poo, Chanel stood with her face turned up to the sun, eyes closed and panting, as if drinking in the world. Neither of them wanted to go back inside.
Cora felt powerless to help. She’d cobbled together a dog trainer code of ethics when she began her career, stealing “First, do no harm” from the Hippocratic Oath. It guided every interaction she had with her canine clients and prevented her from doing anything even close to what Ershovich did on his show. The second part of her code was “Help the helpless.” For the first time since she’d started Top Dog, she felt like she was failing. Chanel had the bare minimum of what she needed to survive—food, water, and shelter, which meant that animal control couldn’t be summoned—but she lacked what dogs require to thrive. How was she going to get through to Beth Ann?
Cora sat down on a low retaining wall and patted next to her, and Chanel immediately jumped up and sat with her body resting against Cora’s leg. Of course, there was a right way and a wrong way to attempt a nail trim with an unfamiliar dog, but Cora had no choice. She needed to get this done in a hurry.
“Now, Chanel, this might feel uncomfortable for you, but I promise it won’t hurt. Trust me, I do this all the time on dogs much bigger and grumpier than you.” She pulled the clippers from her back pocket and grasped the dog’s tiny paw in her hand. “We’re going to do this sooo fast, okay?” Chanel looked up at her with what looked like a smile of acceptance.
Cora cut the first nail quickly, and Chanel didn’t move. “Yay, wasn’t that easy? Look what you get. A treat!” Cora offered the dog a small piece of freeze-dried chicken, which she gulped down. “Let’s keep going!” Chanel wagged her tail in agreement.
Chanel didn’t protest once as Cora clipped all her nails, accepting the novel handling with the grace of a veteran show dog that was used to getting poked and prodded by strangers. Cora couldn’t believe how tolerant she was, despite being thrown in the deep end of the grooming pool. Nail trims were a
serious business, with some dogs requiring a trip to the vet and mild sedation to get the job done. Chanel acted like they were just two girlfriends hanging out at the spa.
“I can’t believe how good you are!” Cora laughed at the homely little dog spinning in happy circles on the retaining wall next to her. “You are the best dog ever!”
A voice called out, “Holy crap, is that Chanel?” Cora looked up to see Eli loping toward them.
“Fancy meeting you here,” Cora responded. “Yes, this is your neighborhood menace. Come face your foe!” Even though she’d anticipated feeling awkward around him since Fran had told her about his crush, she was happy to see his friendly face. She needed it to bolster her for the next round with Beth Ann.
Chanel hopped off the wall as Eli got closer, turning herself in a joyful circle, wagging her tail so fast that it looked like a hummingbird’s wings.
Eli knelt down so that Chanel could approach him at her own pace. Cora was impressed he didn’t rush over and try to pet her. “Awww, she’s so . . . weird-looking,” he said as he surveyed her. “Like a dirty little space alien. With a goofy toof.”
“I don’t know how I’m going to deal with this situation,” Cora said, speaking more candidly about her client than she meant to. “Something’s not right with Beth Ann today. She forgot I was coming and she was sleeping when I got here. Does she work?”
Eli scratched behind Chanel’s ears as he answered. “She had a job for a while but I rarely see her coming or going anymore. I think she might be a trust fund baby. I know her parents live in Houston, and she came out here to take a job on the Hill.”
“She doesn’t strike me as a ‘working on the Hill’ type.”
“Yeah, me neither. Maybe that’s why she’s not.”
Cora considered this new information. At one point Beth Ann had the wherewithal to leave her familiar life in Texas and move to a new world all by herself. What had happened?
“I like this little weirdo.” Eli looked down and spoke directly to Chanel as he petted her. “I like you even though your barking is making me nuts!”
Life on the Leash Page 9