“Do you mind if I ask how the process works?”
“Not at all. So the first step is finding our top three candidates for host, and we hope to be done with that in the next two weeks or so. Then we show their auditions to our contact at WOA, Dalton Feretti. He’s the VP of development, and we basically need his blessing for everything if we want this show to make it to air.”
Cora nodded absentmindedly, rehashing her performance in her mind as Mia talked. The name jarred her back to consciousness.
“What, um, what was that VP’s name again?”
“Dalton Feretti. He is the man at WOA when it comes to new programming. We’re lucky to have him on our side. Don’t tell anyone, but he and Vaughn were college buddies way back when,” Mia explained.
Vaughn victory-punched the air as he broke down the camera.
Cora thought about her lack of poker face and hoped that neither of them had noticed her expression. Dalton Feretti, Dalton Feretti. She committed the name to memory so that she could confirm her fears when she left the building.
“Thanks, Cora,” Vaughn called to her. “You were awesome! Give Fritz a pet from us.”
“Yes, thank you again for coming. We really loved what you did. You have a unique way with dogs, I can tell,” Mia said as she walked Cora to the door.
Cora took note of her word choice. Is “unique” good? she wondered. Where was my “really perfect”?
“I’ve got all your contact info, so we’ll let you know if we need anything else from you. Thanks again,” Mia said.
“I really enjoyed it. Thank you for the opportunity. I’ll keep my fingers crossed!” She smiled in a hopefully genuine way.
Cora dashed to her car and pulled out her phone to see a missed call from her mom, probably to ask how the audition went. She typed “Dalton and Simone Feretti” into the search bar and pushed enter, her heart pounding as the results loaded. Immediately switching to the images section, she scrolled through the photographs until she found a tiny blurry thumbnail of a man and woman standing side by side. It was from Washingtonian Magazine’s “Best of Washington” party, and the caption next to the image read, “World of Animals exec Dalton Feretti with wife . . .” and cut off. Cora hit “visit page” and held her breath as she scrolled down to find the photo. She didn’t even read the caption before enlarging the photo on her screen.
There, standing next to a shiny-faced man with a manicured goatee, was the perfectly preserved face of Simone Feretti.
TWENTY-EIGHT
* * *
Cora received a text from Beth Ann exactly six minutes before their third session was about to begin, just as she entered the lobby. “L8, b there in 5,” it read. Cora was encouraged that Beth Ann was out of her apartment, given how closed off she had seemed during their last lesson. Her attempt at politeness was an added bonus.
Cora settled on a bench, ready to rehash her audition for the millionth time and stress about the Feretti connection. Even if her audition had been flawless, which it wasn’t, the Feretti connection had stopping power. She checked for Eli, hoping he was around to distract her with tales of surly front desk clerks and questionable housekeeping.
“Here I am, here I am!” Beth Ann yelled from across the lobby. Her face was bright red and shiny with sweat. She was wearing a sleeveless pink tank and multicolored leggings with a splattered neon paint design, a choice so coordinated that it made her look like she’d just stepped out of a fitness magazine.
“Hey, only ten minutes late—not bad,” Cora said with a smile. She had mentally prepared to go into full cheerleader mode to keep Beth Ann engaged and happy during the lesson, but it seemed that Beth Ann’s post-run endorphins were doing the heavy lifting for her. “Great day out there, huh?”
“Amazing! The best! I haven’t run in months and I feel like I’m finally getting back on track. Know what I mean?”
Cora nodded. They walked to the elevator together, and she scanned the lobby for Eli. “Such a good feeling. So how’s Chanel these days? Have you been getting her out much?” She probed gently, not wanting to upset Beth Ann.
“Oh no, I think she’s afraid of being outside. She acts like she doesn’t want to leave the apartment.”
Cora’s heart sank. Beth Ann was experiencing a renaissance, but Chanel wasn’t a beneficiary. “Well, let’s see what happens today. I can show you some tricks if she acts nervous. I have a feeling that she’ll be happy to get out on such a beautiful day, though.”
“Yay, sounds good!”
Chanel met them at the door with her usual routine of leaping and excitement peeing. She seemed to focus all of her greeting energy on Cora. “Can we get her right outside?” Cora asked.
“No, I have to take off these sweaty clothes first. I feel like a slob. I’ll just take her to the balcony real quick. I wasn’t gone for that long so she might not have to potty. I can change super fast, I’ll be two seconds.”
The lesson was already descending into the predictable pattern that Cora felt powerless to change. She threaded through the boxes that seemed to have multiplied and joined Chanel on the balcony while Beth Ann went into her bedroom. The little dog jumped at her with a desperation that hurt Cora’s heart. She was wild-eyed and couldn’t stop panting, like she was trying to convey that everything was wrong, everything, and she needed out of this life immediately.
“I know, lapin, I know,” Cora murmured to her. “I’m trying. I have an idea, I think you’re going to like it.” She sat on a rusted metal café chair and pulled Chanel onto her lap, mulling over the unorthodox suggestion she was about to make. The dog’s panting slowed, and Chanel leaned into Cora’s chest. The pair stared off into the distance, each comforted by the other’s warmth.
Cora looked at her phone. Nearly ten minutes had passed with no sign of Beth Ann. She popped her head into the apartment and heard running water, and it dawned on her that Beth Ann was in the shower. Cora paced in circles on the tiny balcony with Chanel at her heels, trying to figure out how to convey her frustration with how their lessons were going without hijacking Beth Ann’s runner’s high. She looked at Chanel. “I could steal you. Just pick you up and leave. Would she even care?”
Five minutes later Beth Ann slid open the door. A wave of perfume rolled out and engulfed the balcony in vanilla. She was in too-short jean shorts and a Don’t Mess With Texas T-shirt. “I’m ready to work now!” She reached toward her dog. “Chanel, baby, are you ready, too?” Chanel backed away.
Cora cleared her throat. “We don’t have much time left. Beth Ann, we’re three weeks into training and we haven’t taught Chanel anything, not even ‘sit.’ Are you sure you want to do this? I really want to work with the two of you but I’m not sure that you want to.”
“Oh, please don’t. Please don’t quit.” Beth Ann’s lower lip trembled.
“I promise you, I don’t want to quit,” Cora replied in the same soft voice she used with nervous foster dogs. “But you sort of need to, uh, get with the program. We only have an hour to work through a ton of stuff, and somehow the time just disappears every week.”
“I know, I know,” Beth Ann said, her eyes filling with tears. “Where does the time go? Where is time going, like, really going? I don’t get it. I mean, I try to manage my time and be responsible and get things done and then . . .” She trailed off and began weeping.
Cora could console the tearful overworked mom who was frustrated with her puppy’s nonstop accidents by showing her shortcuts for potty training. She could offer a shoulder to cry on and a few tears of her own when talking about putting down the family dog. But Beth Ann’s tears were something animalistic that Cora didn’t recognize. She reached out to rub Beth Ann’s back and noticed Chanel trembling under the café chair, as if she was familiar with the storm clouds.
“I’m sorry I upset you. That wasn’t my intention—”
“It’s not you, it’s, it’s, it’s . . . everything!” Beth Ann choked the words out between sobs. “Nothing makes sens
e to me anymore. Nothing.” She buried her face in her hands and cried harder. Cora rubbed her back and tried to find the right thing to say. She thought of Eli just a few steps down the hall as Beth Ann’s wails intensified. Maybe he could help her play therapist?
“Is there someone you can talk to?” Cora asked. No other supportive questions or calming platitudes that might quell Beth Ann’s torrent sprang to mind.
Beth Ann shook her head.
“Listen, I have an idea,” Cora said gently. “I’m thinking it might help make your life a little easier. How would you feel if Chanel stayed with me for a bit? I could finish her potty training and get her used to being outside. Give her daily lessons. It would be fun for her, like sleepaway camp.”
Beth Ann’s watery eyes widened. “You . . . you want to take my dog? You want to take my only friend away from me?” Her voice was nearly a shriek.
“No, no, not take her, just hang with her for a week or so. Then you could focus on finding time and stuff,” Cora sputtered, shocked by the turn the conversation had taken.
“Never,” Beth Ann said, staring at Cora with scary intensity. “Never. Chanel stays with me.”
“Of course, that’s totally fine,” Cora backpedaled. “It was just a thought. No problem.”
The three of them stood on the balcony in silence, unsure of how to proceed.
“I’m sorry,” Beth Ann said softly, once again back to the sad girl persona. “This is really uncool of me.” She rubbed her face with the back of her hand and smiled through her tears. “I’m okay. Seriously, I’m okay. Let’s get to work.”
“Are you sure? Do you want to just watch me do some training this week, and we can pick up next week?” Cora wondered if Chanel would be her first ever student to complete her program without learning a single thing.
“Nope, I’m all set.” Her crying faded to a few hiccups, as if a switch had flipped.
Cora realized she had yet another challenge to overcome. “Great. I brought a few toys we can try out to see if Chanel is play-motivated, since you don’t want to use treats . . .”
“Oh, we can totally use treats. I was just feeling fat last time. I was projecting.”
Cora dug her nails into her palms. The Beth Ann roller coaster was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. She desperately wanted to help Chanel but she didn’t feel equipped to handle the human side of the relationship.
“Excellent, that’s great. So let’s go back to what we tried during the first lesson. Chanel, are you ready to have fun?” The little dog wagged her tail but stayed under the chair. Chanel threw a glance at Beth Ann and backed up.
“I think my dog doesn’t like me,” Beth Ann said ruefully. It was the first time she had accurately read her dog’s body language.
“Aw, she likes you! She’s just . . . concerned. She could tell you were sad. Dogs really pick up on people’s energy.” Cora’s lies were becoming more and more convincing. Chanel was definitely a sensitive little soul who could read Beth Ann’s distress, but it made her stay far away from her troubled owner.
“Thanks for sticking with me, Cora. I know I’m tough.”
“It’s going to be fine, we’ll get through some good stuff today,” Cora replied, focusing on dog training and avoiding the real issue.
She watched Beth Ann shuffle into the dark apartment with her shoulders slumped in defeat. For the first time since she had met the pair, Cora felt just as bad for Beth Ann as she did for Chanel.
TWENTY-NINE
* * *
Oliver came charging at Cora with a single-minded determination that made her worry about her knees. She’d been painfully slammed by other overexuberant dogs many times, and while Oliver was just a gangly boxer baby, a direct hit would still be painful. The sky was getting dark and they were nearing the end of their lesson, but she knew that she had to channel his youthful energy level into a more controlled approach during his recalls.
“I’m going to show you how to teach an automatic sit at the end of the recall. It’s super easy, and it’ll keep him from bouncing off of you every time you call him,” Cora shouted to Charlie across the yard. So far the lesson had been completely professional, even though she kept hoping he’d find a reason to touch her.
“Yeah, I’m worried about the family jewels every time I do a recall!” He gestured vaguely below his waistline, and Cora couldn’t help but think about his package. So much for professional, she chided herself.
Cora ignored the comment. She called, “Here!” and Oliver raced toward her. She showed Charlie how to do the luring movement, and Oliver skidded into a sloppy sit almost on top of her.
“Not bad—he’ll get better every time. You try it.”
Charlie tried it and nailed the move. He grinned at Cora.
“Perfect—love it,” she shouted to him before she could keep the L-word from escaping her lips yet again.
“So awesome,” Charlie crowed as Oliver performed a show dog–worthy sit in front of him.
Charlie reached down to pet his dog as they walked to Cora. “Hey, I have a weird training question for you before you pack up. Not on your basic curriculum.”
“I think I’ve heard it all, so you can’t surprise me.”
“Okay. I like having Oliver sleep in bed with me, and I know you said it’s fine as long as he doesn’t guard the bed or anything, which he doesn’t. The problem is that he thinks that he can’t get up on the bed on his own, and I know he’s totally capable of jumping up! I bring him up initially, and it’s great for a few hours but then he gets off and goes to his own bed because he’s hot, then a few hours later he wants to come back up and he whines and scratches the edge of the bed and wakes me up. How do I teach him that he can make it up on his own?”
Cora knew what Charlie needed help with as soon as he said the word bed. Of course he wanted a warm body near his while Madison was gone. Images of a shirtless Charlie in bed flashed through her head. “Oh, that’s pretty easy. So the first thing you do is to get Oliver used to—”
“Could you come up to my room and show me? Do you mind?”
“Ha!” Cora choked out a nervous laugh, unsure how to answer without sounding like she was more than happy to go to his bedroom. “No, no, I don’t mind! Sure, let’s do it. Let’s try it, I mean.”
“Excellent, follow me.” Charlie and Oliver led the way through the house, up the narrow staircase to a room at the far end of the second floor. Cora tried to peer into the other rooms they passed to suss out what might happen inside of them.
“Here it is,” Charlie said as he swung open the door. Oliver ran in and banked off the bed as if he desperately wanted to jump up on it but couldn’t summon the springs to make it happen. Cora paused and took in the dramatic, masculine room. It looked like Madison had ceded control of the decorating decisions in the bedroom so that Charlie could get out from under the shabby chic that dominated the rest of the house. The deep foggy blue-gray walls were stacked with oversize vintage architecture prints. The two matching black lacquer nightstands flanking the bed were each crowded with an assortment of books and magazines. Cora identified Madison’s by the pot of Jo Malone hand lotion sitting next to the pile. A large, black, Greek key–patterned rug anchored the show-stopping king-sized bed. The bed was the unmistakable focal point of the room, with a tall black leather headboard and nailhead trim. Cora saw the dent in the pillow on Charlie’s side of the bed and imagined his head resting against it.
“See what I mean?” Charlie pointed to Oliver, who was standing on his hind legs and scraping at the top of the bed with his paws.
“Ooh, he’s going to snag your beautiful linens!” Cora exclaimed, eyeing the expensive-looking white duvet. She made a kissy noise to get him to come to her.
“Can you help? Please? I’m exhausted from his up-and-down all night. Just look at my bags.” He moved closer to her as she slid a half step away from him.
“Looks fine to me,” Cora answered with a nervous smile because maintaining ey
e contact with Charlie for more than a few seconds was impossible. “Let’s get started.”
She walked over to a low blue-patterned ottoman. “I want to cheat this behavior instead of doing it the by-the-book way, so do you mind if I let Oliver use this?”
“Everything in our house is his, of course you can.”
Cora pushed the ottoman so it bordered the end of the bed. She took a treat from her pocket and put it on the middle of the ottoman where Oliver could see it. He immediately jumped up and ate it. Cora said “up” as he leaped. She took a second treat and placed it on the end of the bed and again said “up” as Oliver made the leap.
“That works. I can just leave the ottoman there until he gets a little bigger,” Charlie suggested.
“Sure, you can do that, or we can show this lazy boy that he actually can jump all the way up.”
Cora repeated the ottoman-to-bed process with Oliver a few more times, and then took the cushion off the ottoman and put it on the floor where the ottoman had stood. She put the treat on the end of the bed this time, and Oliver leaped up without a problem, even though the cushion gave him only an additional four inches of height.
“Mind games,” Charlie exclaimed.
“Yeah, sometimes dogs develop weird superstitions, and for whatever reason Oliver thinks that he’s not capable of jumping up without help. Now for the real test.” After a few successes that way, Cora removed the cushion from the floor and again put a treat on the end of the bed. Oliver looked at Cora, then at the bed, and then back to Cora. He sat down.
“Looks like he needs some added inducement. Charlie, would you mind getting in bed?”
“I never say no when a woman tells me to get in bed!” He climbed in while Cora blushed and focused on Oliver.
Charlie patted the bed beside him and said, “Up, Ollie boy! Up, up, up, up!” Oliver looked at Cora and didn’t move.
Life on the Leash Page 16