Not to be outdone by James, Aaron stripped off his tight T-shirt and casually flexed his bicep as he climbed into the excavator. He whipped through his installation even faster than Carly, assembling a large flat rock atop two twelve-foot-tall supporting rocks like a cubist table. He finished with the delicate placement of a huge round boulder on top of the table, and the judges clapped.
“One second, y’all, not quite done,” he said, holding up a finger. He moved the excavator to the display and tapped the round rock with the claw on the front of the machine. The rock split open and a cascade of small polished river rocks streamed out like water, spilling over the edge of the table and pooling artfully in the grass below.
The camera cut to the judges who stood side by side with their mouths hanging open, then back to Aaron, who beamed from the cab of the excavator.
“Oh crap, that was really good,” Winnie stage-whispered.
“Can we turn it off? I don’t want to see him win,” Cora said.
“Shhh, it’s not a sure thing yet. Let’s just see what happens, these shows are unpredictable,” Vanessa answered, leaning forward but keeping one hand on Fritz.
The judges deliberated while flashbacks of the show played, highlighting the contestants’ highs and lows throughout the series. The reel focused on Aaron’s choreographed hug with Andy during the “forgiveness” episode, where he acted as if he had gone through a master class about gay rights. When the show went back to the live shot, the previously eliminated contestants had gathered behind James, Carly, and Aaron. Brittany stepped forward with an envelope in her hand.
“It’s the moment we’ve all been waiting for. It’s time to announce the winner of America’s . . . Hottest . . . Landscaper.” She paused to let it sink in. “Our champion will receive a check for a hundred thousand dollars, their very own customized miniexcavator worth over ten thousand dollars, courtesy of Crenshaw Tools, a lifetime supply of GrowRite natural fertilizer, and a monthly column in Modern Gardening magazine.”
The camera cut to the finalists, who all managed to hide their excitement behind stoic smiling faces.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of America’s Hottest Landscaper is . . .” The pause seemed to go on indefinitely.
“SAY IT!” Vanessa screamed at the TV. “Just say it already!”
“Carly Gannon!”
The room was silent for a moment.
“And justice prevails!” Maggie shouted, dancing around the room. She high-fived each of them as she pranced by. Cora clapped her hands and rocked back and forth maniacally.
“It’s over! He’s over!” she exclaimed.
“Look at Aaron—he’s pissed!” Vanessa said gleefully. Aaron barely hid his scowl as he hugged Carly.
“That is what you call a plot twist, my friends. The king is dead, long live the queen!” Darnell said triumphantly.
TWENTY-FIVE
* * *
Cora’s phone rang at five after ten the next morning. She was still reveling in Aaron’s loss and fighting off the killer hangover from their celebration the night before. Cora had lucked out and scheduled her first client for noon, but Maggie couldn’t get out of her regular shift at Saks, so she was already at work and Cora was surprised to see her picture come up on the phone’s display.
“Ca-can you come pick me up?” Maggie cried into the phone. “I don’t want to ride the Meh-Meh-Metro like this.” She hiccuped.
“Maggie, what’s wrong? Are you okay? What happened?”
“I got fired!” she wailed.
“What? How is that possible?”
“The steamer! They think I stole the stuh-steamer!”
“The broken one? They were throwing it out. Did you tell them it was broken and Gym Jake fixed it?”
“I told them everything, Cora, they won’t listen to me! They escorted me out like a criminal!” Her wails got louder. “Please just come get me. I’m in the parking lot.”
Cora glanced at the time. “I’m on my way right now.”
Fritz and Josie barely stirred as she ran by them, both exhausted by their early morning wrestling match. “Aunt Maggie is going to need a lot of love when we get home,” she told them.
Making it to the mall in record time, Cora found Maggie sitting under a tree in the far corner of the parking lot. Her face was covered in a spiderweb of mascara streaks.
“Darnell told them about the steamer,” Maggie spat at Cora as she climbed in the car. “He’s the reason I got fired.”
“Why does it even matter? They were throwing it out, right?”
Maggie shook her head and looked out the window. She clearly wasn’t ready to talk about it. She rarely cried, so Cora tried to give her space as she processed what had happened.
They rode home in silence, with Maggie occasionally hiccuping a leftover sob. Maggie’s progression from tears to fury was a quick and predictable one. Cora actually felt bad that Darnell was on the receiving end of this much rage.
“Can I ask how it happened?”
The words came out in angry bursts. “The guys from corporate were in. Darnell made some crack about how I shouldn’t be up for the Excellence program because I stole a steamer. Corporate heard ‘steal,’ and I was out on my ass.” She clenched her fists. “I want to kill that fucker.”
“Are you serious?” It sounded like just one of Darnell’s badly timed jokes. “Why would he do that?”
“He did it because he didn’t like the competition. He’s used to being number one, and for the first time in a long time he wasn’t going to be because my numbers are insane this quarter. I can’t believe he’s jealous of me!”
Cora knew that wasn’t the case. Darnell was Maggie’s devoted friend, and there was no way he would ever do anything to sabotage her. More likely, he had just reacted to the discomfort of the moment with a wisecrack.
“Was he . . . kidding? You know how he makes those stupid jokes all the time. Was he trying to be funny and show off?”
“It doesn’t matter, Cora! He said what he said, and now I don’t have a job!”
Cora thought better of trying to debate Maggie. She felt awful for her friend.
“There goes my three-year plan,” Maggie muttered. “All that work, all that low-level folding and stocking and groveling, and I’ve got shit to show for it. I was working toward something, Cora! I was on the executive track. I paid my dues on the floor and I was about to move up, big-time. I was so goddamned good at my job.”
Cora reached over and squeezed Maggie’s hand. “I know you were. They do, too. I’m so sorry, Mags.”
Maggie stormed down the hallway in front of Cora and furiously wrenched the front door open, as if it too had conspired to get her fired. She took two steps in, tripped, and landed hard on her knees, then let out a wail that summoned the dogs from the couch.
Fritz and Josie ran to where Maggie knelt, crying with her face in her hands, and immediately began licking and pawing at her. Cora stood in the doorway and let them work their magic, knowing that nothing she could say or do would be as effective as the ministrations from the dogs. Maggie rolled on to her side on the ground, and Josie spooned into position against her, leaning back to lick the tears dropping from her chin. Fritz stood behind Maggie with one paw resting protectively on her shoulder. His ears were pinned back, and his tongue flicked around his mouth lizard-like as if tasting the air, telegraphing the stress he was feeling. He glanced back at Cora for direction.
“It’s okay,” she mouthed to him. She made her eyes soft and sad and nodded toward Maggie on the floor so that he would know to stay with her. She walked to them wordlessly and sat at Maggie’s feet, and the three of them let their friend cry until her tears stopped.
TWENTY-SIX
* * *
“My name is Cora Bellamy. I am Cora Bellamy. Hey, I’m Cora Bellamy! Je m’appelle Cora bel Ami.”
She stood in front of the mirror on the inside of her closet door, introducing herself to an imaginary audience with a variety of
inflections and facial expressions, hoping to hit on one that felt natural, but the more she repeated her name the stranger it sounded.
Cora leaned in close and studied her face in the mirror. Her skin was blemish free, and it was doubtful anything would sprout overnight. Her dark brows looked tidy, her undereye bags were minimal, and with enough makeup, she hoped that she could pull together a camera-ready look for the audition.
She crossed her arms and turned around to stare at the two brand-new outfits carefully placed on her bed and wasn’t surprised to find Fritz nestled in between them. One was a pale pink featherweight sweater paired with slim-fitting black pants, the other a bold black-and-white chevron-print blouse and dark jeans, topped off with a dramatic pink statement necklace. Usually Maggie would’ve been at her side during such an important shopping trip, helping to select a look that Cora never would’ve considered, but she couldn’t rouse Maggie from the couch.
“Mags, can you come in here for a sec?” Cora hoped that she could refocus her, if only for a moment. She desperately wanted her friend’s cheerleading as she prepped for the audition.
Maggie wandered in with Josie in tow. She looked disheveled, swollen, and shell-shocked, as if she still couldn’t believe what had happened, even after a week. Cora knew there was an ounce of drama queen in her over-the-top response to her firing, but she allowed her friend to revel in it.
Josie hadn’t left Maggie’s side as she worked through the stages of anger, a life preserver or an anchor, depending on Maggie’s mood. Only Josie could offer her the comfort she needed. Cora christened the dog “Clara Barkton” because of her impressive nursing skills.
“Hey, can you help me decide between these two outfits for tomorrow? You’re the pro, so what should I wear?”
Maggie squinted her eyes at the options. “Uhhh. Either. I’m sure you look perfect in both of them.” She shrugged her shoulders and reached down to pet Josie.
“So, you have no artistic preference? Like, from a stage presence perspective?”
“They’re both good. Either one. And remember, it’s not about what you wear, it’s about you.” Maggie sounded exasperated.
Cora couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Maggie had built a successful career based on the power of the right outfit, so her saying that it didn’t matter was like a zealot renouncing religion.
“Okay, what would you wear then?”
Maggie shrugged her shoulders again. “Chevron, I guess.”
A little wounded by her friend’s lack of enthusiasm, Cora frowned.
“You don’t want my help anyway, Cora. What do I know? I’m just a fucking unemployed loser that watches Netflix all day with a homeless dog.” She looked down at Josie and scratched her head.
“Speaking of Josie, can we talk about what’s going on for a sec? What are we doing, Maggie? Abby has sent a few people my way who saw her photo on the League’s website, and I keep putting them off. It’s not fair to her or you, or the people who might want to adopt her. We need to make the call.” Cora sounded snippier than she meant to.
“That’s cool, I get it.” Maggie sat down on the floor next to Josie, and the dog immediately leaned into her, as if magnetized. “Yeah, let’s find her a home. It’s time, right? Want to meet your new mommy? Huh? We’ll find you a nice house with a yard in the suburbs.” Josie looked at Maggie intently, wagged her tail, and placed a gentle paw on her leg as Maggie scratched the wrinkly part of her forehead. Maggie slowly lowered her head and began to cry.
“What’s wrong?” Cora asked.
“I don’t want to,” she sobbed. “I can’t let someone else have her. She’s my dog!” Her crying intensified, and Josie began pawing at Maggie and licking her face furiously, trying to comfort her.
Cora ran to where Maggie sat and knelt down next to her. Fritz sprawled on the ground in front of them in an attempt to divert their attention, as if he knew that no one could feel sad while petting his belly.
“Of course she is! Everybody knew she was your dog but you! Don’t worry, we’ll keep her. It’s okay, it’s okay.” Cora rubbed Maggie’s back. “She’s your dog.”
Maggie looked at Josie and sniffled. “You’re my dog, Josie! You’re mine and you’re not going anywhere!” She leaned over and hugged Josie, who tolerated the intrusion with grace.
“I’ll text Abby and let her know,” Cora said.
“Wait,” Maggie said, untangling from Josie. “Having two dogs means you can’t foster anymore. Now I feel terrible for all of those other dogs you won’t be able to help . . .” Her bottom lip trembled.
“We’ll figure something out. Maybe we can talk about moving? I feel like we’re outgrowing this place anyway.”
“I’ll be moving back home if I don’t find a job soon,” she replied glumly.
“Mags, you haven’t even tried,” Cora said gently. “You’ve barely left the apartment except to walk the dogs.”
“I know, I know. It’s time. I’m done mourning.”
“Have you thought about what you might want to do next? Retail again?”
“No way! Retail fucked me. I’m done. I’ll figure something out. Maybe I’ll be a high-class escort.”
“The money’s supposed to be great.” Cora shrugged, and they both laughed.
“I’m sorry I’ve been so awful lately.”
“Everyone is allowed to have a bad spell.”
Maggie smiled through her tears. “I really am proud of you, C. Don’t worry, you’re going to be amazing tomorrow.”
“I’m ready,” she said, and for the first time she knew that it was true.
TWENTY-SEVEN
* * *
“You must be Cora! I’m Mia Nguyen.” The young woman offered her hand and smiled. Mia was impeccably dressed in the arty girl uniform: a perfectly shrunken striped T-shirt, a long slim black skirt, and funky wedge sandals. Cora coveted her precision-cut angled bob.
“I am, so nice to meet you!” Cora answered, mustering a voice that she hoped didn’t betray her nerves. The two women had been trading e-mails for days, trying to nail down the exact time and location for Cora’s audition. They had settled on a Monday afternoon in an overflow room of a doggy day care center in northwest DC. Cora didn’t know much about the day care facility, but she knew the head trainer on staff, Brooke Keating, had a fame whore-y reputation for putting her famous clients’ testimonials and photos all over her website. Based on the photos, Brooke was only one degree of separation away from the President and the First Dog.
“I just need you to fill this out before we get started,” Mia said, handing Cora a clipboard. Her hand shook as she reached for the pen. “We’re just finishing up with someone else, so I’ll let you take care of that and I’ll be back in a minute. Vaughn, our executive producer, can’t wait to meet you!”
“Great, okay, thanks!” Cora replied, sounding overeager and nerdy. She took a seat on one of the folding chairs ringing the room and got to work filling out her contact information and dog training background, which she had already provided to them in triplicate.
Her phone pinged and she dug it out of her bag quickly. Nothing like texts coming in during the audition to throw me off my game, she thought as she silenced it. There was a good luck text from Wade and Rachel, and a random text from Charlie, a selfie of him holding an upside-down sleeping Ollie. “We miss u,” it said, followed by a frowning emoji. She missed seeing him, too, but she wasn’t about to admit it. “Too cute!” Cora texted back, hoping that it walked the line between dismissive and interested, and shoved her phone back in her purse. This wasn’t the time to think about Charlie Gill.
She took a peek around the room as she filled out the form. It was painted a cheerful yellow with a cartoony dog-themed mural and the unmistakable smell of industrial cleaner just barely masking urine. The walls were surprisingly thin, given what the room was used for, enabling her to hear tantalizing bits of what was happening in the other room. She rushed to complete the form so that she could focus
her energies on eavesdropping.
“Brooke, that was great!” Cora heard a male voice exclaim. “Can you get Honey to do it again?”
Cora heard Brooke’s muffled reply from across the room, and then heard her repeating an upbeat cue a few times in a row.
“Yeah, awesome stuff,” the voice exclaimed, and Cora heard clapping. “Okay, I think we’re good here. Thank you so much for coming today, you were really perfect. Ryan, get the mic, and, Mia, can you show her out? Honey, you come over here to me. C’mere girl.” Cora heard the dog’s nails on the floor as it ran over to the man. She tried to guess the breed just based on the sound of its paws.
The door opened, and Cora righted herself. Brooke was “really perfect”? Hearing the feedback made Cora even more nervous.
Mia walked out with Brooke. “We loved what you did, thank you so much! Is the number on the form the best way to reach you?” Brooke nodded modestly. “Great, we’ll be in touch soon!” Mia ducked back in the room and shut the door to keep the mystery dog from following them out, leaving Cora and Brooke alone. Brooke walked to her bag on the other side of the room, completely ignoring Cora.
“Hello there?” Cora called out. “I think we’ve met before, but I’m Cora Bellamy from Top Dog?”
Brooke zipped her bag shut and turned to face Cora. “Oh, right, we met at that conference thingy.” Brooke had put extra effort into her look, with her coppery hair ironed flat and more makeup than usual on her handsome face. She was pretty in a slightly inbred British aristocracy kind of way.
“How did it go in there?” Cora asked, grimacing.
Life on the Leash Page 14