He nodded. “After my brother died. Offered him six hundred bucks, as much as I could drum up, being unemployed and all. Turned me down flat. ‘Not for sale,’ he said. Going to be a big canine star on Broadway.”
“So John got you the job here,” I said.
He shrugged. “It gave me the chance to be around Flint and get some bank. The job comes with a rent-free room. Not such a bad deal, all in all.”
“Yet you aren’t sabotaging Flint’s performances?” I asked.
“Why would I want to hurt Flint’s chances as a cushy life? Getting gigs like eating dogfood in TV commercials?”
“Maybe because you hoped to frustrate John into giving up on him,” I replied.
“I ain’t underhanded like John. I’m just trying to stay below the radar for a while. As long as John keeps his end of the bargain, that is. If I can save up enough money, I’ll get my own business up and running—training dogs to herd. Hell, I trained Flint in no time.”
He pointed with his chin at Pavlov. “Your bitch is okay on stage. She just doesn’t lock eyes with her sheep. Probably why she ain’t making eye contact with the actors. You want your doggie to act on stage, you should make sure your dog’s strong-eyed toward the actors on stage.”
I was confused for a moment.
Sam added, “I mean she’s naturally loose-eyed. She figures it’s okay not to maintain eye contact. Flint, though, looks sheep right in the eye. Let’s ‘em know he’s keeping an eye on ‘em at all times.”
“Oh. Right. That was in a video on sheep herding,” I said, now realizing Sam deserved respect for his dog-handling skills. He had made an excellent observation. That was why Pavlov’s performance seemed flat last night. She had performed one simple trick after another, following my directions, but never making on-stage eye contact. “And you’re saying dogs are naturally inclined, one way or the other.”
He nodded. “Herders work upright or crouched. Loose eye, or strong eye. And that’s that. It’s kind of like our being born left-handed or right-handed.”
“Interesting. Thanks.”
“You at least inherited your brother’s ranch, didn’t you?” Baxter asked Sam, which snapped me back into the conversation at hand.
Sam shook his head. “The ranch went in order to pay his medical bills. Prob’ly why he was dumb enough to accept the ten-kay bet. Left me with nothing.”
“It’s so unfair,” I blurted out.
“You’re telling me. But the last thing I’d want to do is scramble with Flint’s performances. I got me a signed contract with John that I’ll be in charge of training new dogs in the role, once the play starts selling to multiple theaters.”
“Why aren’t you the one training Flint, then, instead of me?”
“He snorted. John didn’t trust me, I guess. Once Flint started screwing up, he said I was cutting off my nose to spite my face. He was dead certain I was the one messing with Flint. So he called Baxter, and here you both are.”
“In that case,” I asked, “why did he trust that you should be the official trainer when the play got produced at other theaters?”
“There’s a clause that makes the contract void if this here world premiere doesn’t go smoothly,” he replied.
“I see,” I said. “Though, again, if he didn’t trust you, I still don’t understand John’s motivation for striking that deal with you.”
“I think he figured he’d help me out with no skin off his nose. He was just going to be offering my training skills as, like, a bonus to theaters that didn’t have access to herders. Plus, that way he had me over a barrel, if I were to try and even the score between us.”
“Hmm,” Baxter muttered.
“The way things are turning out,” Sam added, “I should have gone with my gut. Told him to take this job and shove it.”
Chapter 10
Baxter and I had formed a tacit understanding not to discuss any of our conversation with Sam yet. We had lots of work to do. Baxter had somehow managed to win over Flint in addition to Pavlov. They flanked him wherever he went. I pointed out that he’d won their devotion.
Out of curiosity, Baxter walked across the stage. Sure enough they both trotted after him, tails wagging.
“It’s like they expect me to pull a pork chop out of my pocket,” he said.
“Yeah, it’s probably time you got rid of that Eau d’ Sautéed Pork aftershave you’re so fond of.”
“It’s my animal magnetism,” he replied, wiggling his eyebrows.
“I hope you can use it on some of the staff here. We could use some volunteers to rehearse with us.”
He looked at Pavlov. “We should probably just work with Flint today,” Baxter said. “Don’t you think?”
“Sounds right.” Although Pippa was probably upstairs. I wondered what Felicity had dressed her in today. I decided a tennis outfit would be fun.
Both Valerie and Sam were here, so I asked Baxter to talk with Valerie about filling in herself or suggest a suitable stand-in, and to also mention that I wanted Sam to read lines with us, unless she objected. Both dogs put themselves into a heel position and trotted alongside him as he headed toward Valerie’s office.
I located Sam. He was fixing a wobbly chair in the theater’s enormous storage room. “Would you be willing and able to read one of the male-lead’s lines with us, while we rehearse with Flint? Provided pulling you away from your job is okay with Valerie?”
He scratched at his cheek, where he had a two- or three-day beard. “I guess it’s all right with me, as long as it’s all right with the boss lady.”
“Great. Baxter is checking with Valerie now, so I’ll let you know if she objects. In any case, thanks for agreeing to help me out.”
“No problem. Mind if I take a cigarette break first, though?”
“Of course not. See you on the stage in five or ten minutes.”
I heard soft music coming from the green room. Hopeful of getting one more recruit so I could sit offstage and rehearse via the audio system, I ducked into the room. Sally was sitting on the oversized couch, which, though ugly, was dark green velvet—an appropriate color. I said hi and glanced at her knitting. “Making a scarf?” I asked
“For John,” she answered. Her eyes were red and puffy. I took a seat beside her.
“Are you worried about him? The doctor said he’s recovering. He’ll be leaving the hospital today or tomorrow.”
She nodded. “I know. I went to see him as soon as visiting hours were open this morning.” She grimaced, but kept her eyes on her knitting. “We had a little spat.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. He probably wasn’t himself, though. He was cranky when we saw him on Sunday night. The nurse told us it’s not uncommon for patients to get a little delusional, even.”
Her expression remained glum. “I can’t blame him for being angry at me. He’s right. I should have been fawning all over him Sunday night and rushing him off the stage. That would have been in keeping with Georgia’s character. She’s supposed to be infatuated with him. But all I could think to do was faint. As soon as I planted myself on the floor, I had no options. I had to just lie there, while everyone else figured out what to do.” She abruptly stopped knitting and searched my eyes. “What kind of a girlfriend does that? Chooses to pretend to faint in order to keep a show going...when her boyfriend’s on death’s door?”
“You’re asking the wrong person. I thought it was brilliant of you to swoon. And I don’t think you should feel guilty in the least for the three or four extra minutes until he got to the hospital. He’d have been in precisely the same physical condition.”
She grimaced again, and retrieved her knitting needles. “Tell that to John,” she muttered. “Although Sunday’s performance was extra stressful to me, too. My dad was in the audience. And, by the way, he told me that, not counting me, your dog was his favorite actor in the production.”
I couldn’t help but grin. I adored it when people complimented one of my dogs. “That’s nice.
Has he seen the play with Flint or Pippa in the role?”
“No, he’s been recovering from a case of pneumonia, actually. This was the first time he felt well enough to come out in public. He’s been coughing up a storm.”
That sounded familiar. “I noticed a man coughing, seated in the third row. White hair, wearing a light green T-shirt. Thin. Glasses.”
“Yeah, that’s my dad. He and my mom always reserve the same seats in advance of any of my shows. I like to know where they’re sitting. They’re close to the stage and off-center, so those particular seats are slow to sell out.” She grinned. “Dad claims my roles always cause me to spend more time on the left side of the stage. I think it’s just his imagination. It’s sweet of them to always be so supportive.”
On the other hand, maybe nobody in the box office was keeping track of the actors’ parents attending all of the performances. Did it make me a bad person to entertain the notion that Sally could be in cahoots with her elderly father to sabotage John’s play? “So that was his only time seeing the performance?”
“Yes, but they’re coming back tonight. Fortunately. I’d objected when they first told me that, thinking they already knew all the jokes and wouldn’t enjoy a repeat. But considering Sunday’s fiasco, I want them to see me in the role without my boyfriend getting massively ill.”
“So they know you two are a couple?”
She winced a little. “Sort of. I told them it wasn’t anything serious. Which was probably a good decision, since we’re already at odds with one another.”
“Allie, Valerie said it was fine,” Baxter said, from the doorway. “We’re ready to rehearse.”
“Great. Thanks.” I hopped to my feet.
“Do you want me to help you out in my role again?” Sally asked.
“That would be really helpful, if you’re sure you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.” She stood and gave me a sincere smile. “I’ll just say my lines and walk through my blocking assignments. It’s not going to strain my voice or anything.”
Baxter waited for us and asked me if Sam was going to pitch in. “Yeah, he’s probably out back. He’s taking a cigarette break.”
Much to my surprise, John was in the auditorium when we arrived; he and Valerie were chatting.
“Hey, John,” Baxter said. “You’re up and at ‘em! Good for you!”
He gave us a feeble smile. “What’s a mere poisoning? The show must go on.” He looked a little haggard and as if he’d lost weight. His light brown plaid shirt appeared to be hanging off him. Valerie must have gotten the clothes he’d been wearing Sunday night back to him yesterday.
“There’s been a minor change in plans,” Valerie said. “You’re going to be rehearsing a new scene first. So John says he doesn’t need me to read lines.”
“Okay. Thanks anyway, Valerie,” I said. She strode away without another word.
John and Sally, meanwhile, locked gazes. “I’m so sorry about this morning, Babe,” John said. “I was talking myself into being miserable. Maybe the poison did a number on my brain.”
“My poor darling,” she said and rushed into his arms.
John gave her a passionate kiss. Their embrace ended, and Sally giggled as she glanced at Baxter and me. “Sorry for the PDA. Let’s just all pretend John was directing me how to kiss for the play.”
“No worries,” Baxter said.
For my part, I was happy they’d made up. Maybe the ill will now would blow over like a bad thunderstorm. I was optimistic Flint would be able to perform tonight. Every now and then, my canine clients’ behavioral problems resolved themselves merely by my being there to observe and reassure the afflicted pets and their owners.
Sally put her hand on John’s cheek. “I’m also checking his temperature,” she said. “I don’t know if our director is up to being back at work so soon.”
Hammond and Greg arrived.
“What great timing,” Sally said. “Allie could use our help again with a read-through for Flint’s rehearsal.”
“Actually, we came because John sent us a text that he wanted to work on the new penultimate scene,” Hammond explained. “When Blue has his soliloquy.”
I looked at Hammond, confused, imagining Blue delivering a to-be-or-not-to-be speech comprised of yowls and barks.
“Greg, you’re not even in that scene,” Sally said. “But I am. Why didn’t I get a call?”
“I stopped by your place, and you weren’t there, so I assumed I could talk to you here, in person,” John said.
“And I’m supposed to be here ‘just in case,’” Greg said, putting air quotes on the final phrase. He sounded surly.
“Allie’s bound to need you to run through your lines for the whole play,” John said, matching Greg’s surliness.
Meanwhile, Hammond gestured for me to come closer, then said, “I bumped into Sam a minute ago. He said to tell you you’ve obviously got plenty of actors for the rehearsal, but he’ll check in with you later.”
I nodded and thanked him. Meanwhile, Sally was telling John he should simply watch tonight’s performance and have me cue Flint. She noted that would be a lot wiser rather than to risk making himself ill by taking on too much too soon.
John smiled lovingly at her. “I’ll see how I feel around six or so, and if I get dizzy or whatever, I’ll sit out the performance.”
“Just be careful not to sit on a tack,” Greg said, chuckling.
Sally clicked her tongue. “That’s in bad taste, Greg.”
“By all means, Greg,” Hammond said, with a theatrical lilt in his voice. “Try to be more tack full.”
“For pity’s sake, guys! Can’t we save the stupid puns for Boomtown Improv? John nearly died!”
Greg smirked at Sally. “You’re oversensitive because you feel guilty to have unintentionally jabbed him with poison.”
“If anybody should feel guilty, it’s you,” Sally said. “You’re the one who’s been so busy flirting with Felicity you’ve been distracting her. It wouldn’t have happened if the costumes were closely monitored.”
“Enough,” John growled. “Save your picayune jealousies for tonight’s performance, people. Tonight has to be flawless. I’m recording the entire performance and sending it to my agent to shop around in Broadway theaters. This is your big chance to show the world how good you are in these roles.”
Hammond let out a derisive laugh. “John, my dear boy, only you could suggest that we need your play to boost our careers. It’s clearly the reverse.”
“It’s a two-way street, you asshole!” John fired back. “The boat rises with all tides.” He paused. “The rising tide raises all boats, I mean.”
Sally shot Hammond a fiery look then said something under her breath into his ear.
Hammond stared at her for a moment, then turned to John, his palms upraised. “I spoke out of turn. You’re in charge of this production, not me. I’m a bit out of sorts today. The sheriff has a nasty habit of knocking on doors in the wee hours of the morning. I couldn’t get back to sleep.”
“We all got door knocks,” Sally said. “The sheriff told me he was talking to everybody in theater housing.”
“I’m surprised you were able to arise, after last night’s exploits,” Hammond snarled at Sally. With John having been in the hospital, I had no idea what he meant. John must have wondered the same thing; he glared at Sally.
She blushed. “That was hardly a free-for-all. I was just visiting my parents.”
Greg continued to smirk at her, but she never met his gaze.
***
We worked on a scene that John had planned to use as soon as Flint had all of the rest of his performance down pat. Obviously, incorporating that scene in the next couple of days was premature, but John said he’d like to take advantage of my expertise while I was in town.
The scene was risky because it called for the dog to be alone on the stage. While Hammond’s character was offstage—ostensibly getting dressed—Sally calls to him that
she was leaving to go to the store. Flint then had to nip at Sally’s feet to hasten her exit. (Nipping at one’s heels was a standard herding technique; hence the name “Blue Heelers.”) Flint then “shuts” the door in her face, which was rigged; Flint merely needed to get close to the door and an offstage crew member pulled a string to shut it. Next, Flint had to shove a chair under the knob of the door, actually accomplished by a wire; the dog had to simply follow the chair and appear to be pushing it.
Far trickier, Flint then needed to seemingly place a phone call in front of a live audience. We trained Flint to grab a handset—upon which was dabbed baby food—and then set the phone on the floor, with the baby-food-spackled button-side facing up. Flint had to push the keypad with his nose a couple of times. Dial tones and then Karen’s “Hello?” were heard over the audio system. Finally a “Speak” command instructed the dog to bark into the phone.
At this point, Karen’s broadcasted responses to Flint’s barks let the audience listen in as she convinced herself that something dire had happened to Hammond, and assured “Blue” that she was on her way to rescue Hammond.
Karen had been late to arrive at the theater, but John had prerecorded her lines of dialogue. She arrived at the theater just as John was telling us this would be their final run through for today. He assured her that she might as well watch from the audience and give him her opinion.
She took an aisle seat right behind Baxter and me; Pavlov was sprawled across the aisle, having been sleeping on her side. Her tail thumped a couple of times, though, as Sally rose long enough to give her a belly rub. John, too, was in the audience with us. He was sitting in the front row, dead center, giving Flint his commands into a headset. He also called to Sally, “Take it from the top.”
“Darling?” Sally called through the set door. “Can I get you anything from the store?”
Flint, who was in “Play Dead” mode, leapt into a “Sit” position, his tail wagging. I could sense at once that he was going to be spot on. It made me so happy, my eyes immediately misted.
A few minutes later, we were all clapping, having watched Flint perform the scene to perfection.
Dog Drama Page 10