Chihuahua Confidential (13 page)

We finally made it to the costume shop for our final fitting. Everyone was buzzing about the latest developments. Robyn was worried about Pepe, but he insisted he was unharmed by the attempt to drug him.

I slipped into the midnight blue satin dress. The hem and bodice were embroidered with sequins and crystal beads that sparkled whenever I moved. They had a little more trouble with Pepe's tuxedo jacket. They had to make a few adjustments so that he could move easily.

Shelley came bustling in as Robyn fastened a rhinestone necklace around my throat. “You're on in five minutes. And that guy is here to see you again.”

It was Jimmy G, wearing a loud and garish red necktie.

“Did you find Nacho?” I asked.

“No, but Jimmy G got a gig as an extra on the set of
Kiss of Death,
” he said with a big grin. “I start tomorrow.”

“Congratulations!”

Robyn handed me a pair of long, chandelier-shaped rhinestone earrings to put on. “So have you given up on the package?” I asked.

“Got a new idea,” said Jimmy G. “You know how you have to sign in with the guard to get into the movie studio?”

“Yes,” I said. Robyn brought over a pair of midnight blue satin high heels, also embellished with sparkles. The heels were higher than any I had worn yet in the competition. “I've been wondering how you get in.”

“Just use your name, doll. You seem to be well known here. You and the rat-dog.”

I nodded. I was a bit distracted. I pulled at the straps to make sure the shoes were tight. Pepe was meanwhile wriggling as they tried to fasten a blue bow tie around his neck.

“So?” I didn't see the significance. I stood up and tried to balance on those heels. I swayed back and forth and had to reach out to Jimmy G for balance.

“So all we have to do is get the guard to tell us the name of the delivery service, and then we can track them down!”

“Good idea,” I said. “I'm surprised you haven't talked to the guard already.”

I walked around the room a little. Robyn and her sewing ladies applauded their handiwork.

“Here, help me get to the stage,” I said, leaning on Jimmy G for support. We headed out of the costume room and toward the backstage area.

“Well, Jimmy G tried but ran into a bit of a problem,” Jimmy G said.

“Really, what?”

“The guard says Jimmy G is merely a civilian and not entitled to that information.”

We reached the partition that separated us from the stage. Shelley materialized with her clipboard. “You're on in ten seconds,” she said. “You!” She pointed at Jimmy G. “Get out of here!”

He gave a little tug of his fedora and headed off.

Luis and Siren Song came running by. Luis was shrugging off his leather coat. I could see that he was dripping with sweat.

“Wait!” I said, grabbing Luis by the arm. “I've got to ask you a question.”

“What?” He seemed annoyed. Or maybe he just couldn't hear. The audience was still hooting and hollering.

“I've got to ask you about Brandy,” I said.

“Who's Brandy?” he asked.

“Your special friend? Who Rebecca flew in from Seattle?”

“Rebecca didn't fly anyone in from Seattle,” Luis said.

“Then who was that woman in the room with you and Siren Song this morning?” I asked.

Luis looked around. “I can't talk about that,” he whispered. Meanwhile, Siren Song was circling around Pepe, snarling and growling. Luis grabbed her up and went hurrying offstage.

“That was weird,” I said to Pepe.

“Yes, that was weird,” said Pepe. “Siren Song would not treat me so.”

“Perhaps she's in love with Max,” I said. The poodle was very handsome.

“No way, Jose!” said Pepe.

Shelley interrupted us. “You're on!”

The encounters with Jimmy G and Luis had distracted me, but now the realization that we were about to perform hit me.

“Pepe, what are we going to do?” I said. “Ted didn't get a chance to finish the choreography for our dance.” And now he certainly wouldn't since he was on his way to the hospital. “And we didn't have time for a run-through.” Because of the attempt to drug Pepe and the fight that followed. “And you might be affected by the horse tranquilizer.”

“I do feel a little strange,” said Pepe. “And there is another
problemo
.”

“What is that?”

“Listen!”

And then I heard Rebecca announce, “This is amazing! Siren Song and Luis have scored 9.8, the highest score yet in this competition. That puts them two points above Max and Maxine. Can anyone beat that score?”

“We will have to dance perfectly,” Pepe mumbled.

“That's impossible!” I said.

“Not if we dance from our souls,” Pepe said. He closed his eyes and swayed a little. Perhaps he
was
feeling the effects of the horse tranquilizer.

The lights went dim, and we scrambled to our places. I was sitting at the bottom of the steps when the music began, and Pepe was sitting a few feet away, looking at me (with longing, I assumed). I was not supposed to look at him until halfway through the dance.

“Just follow your heart,” said Pepe as the music began to build.

I got up and began waltzing around the set, my arms held out to an imaginary partner. I could feel the dress swirling and swishing around my legs, could feel it unfurling and curling around me in perfect unison with the music. I was aware of Pepe dancing in tight circles around me, but I was not supposed to look at him; I was supposed to keep my eyes closed.

“Do not fear, Geri,” said Pepe. “I will not let you fall.”

Ah! If only I could trust him. But he was just a little dog. And I was supposed to be taking care of him. Would there ever be someone who would take care of me?

“A little more to your right,” whispered Pepe, passing by me again. The audience was extraordinarily quiet. I didn't hear the usual rustles and murmurs. I wouldn't realize until later how poignant the scene was.

The lighting tech had me isolated in the vast darkness with a blue spotlight, which picked up every sparkle in my dress, while Pepe slipped in and out of the light, a little white orbiting moon. It even gave me a chill when I watched the footage for the first time.

The music dimmed and the singer's voice faltered to a stop. This was my big moment. I curled in on myself, a woman in despair because she believes she is all alone in the world. And, truly, I felt this. My dog might not be my dog. My boyfriend seemed to be interested in another woman. And the man who had been flirting with me had apparently set me up for a fall.

Then the lights began to come up, and the music shifted from minor to major and Pepe came dancing into view, his dark little eyes fixed on me, as they had been throughout the number. We began moving in unison, side by side, his little tux tail swinging behind him, my skirt swirling behind me.

“Step left, step right, and turn two three,” Pepe said, coaching me through a series of side-by-side maneuvers. It felt effortless, like we were floating. I was totally able to relax and just copy Pepe's movements.

We danced around each other for a chorus, mirroring each other, and then he hopped into my arms and I caught him and we ended the dance with a series of tight pirouettes.

I stopped, a bit dizzy. OK, really dizzy. The room was spinning around me. I thought I saw the audience leaping to its feet. Then I realized they were. The applause circled around us, growing and growing until it filled the room.

The judges were on their feet, too, applauding. I saw Felix in the audience, his face beaming, and Jimmy G with that big, goofy grin on his face. Robyn and her crew were standing in the wings applauding. Pepe and I took bow after bow and still the applause went on.

The only person who seemed unhappy was Rebecca, acting as MC. She had a sour look on her face as she motioned for us to come stand by her. It took a while but finally the applause died down and Rebecca asked the judges for their scores. I picked Pepe up and held him close.

“What can I say to that performance?” asked Caprice, wiping tears from her cheeks. “That was the most beautiful depiction of the love between a dog and its owner that I have ever seen. They get a ten.” Princess yipped in protest, and Caprice tapped her on the nose.

Beverly Holywell looked at Caprice in sympathy and then turned to Rebecca. “I concur. The emotion between the two was so real it simply transported me. This was not an athletic performance. Or an exhibition of good training. This was art. I give them a ten as well.”

Rebecca seemed taken aback. She turned to Miranda Skarbos. “Miranda, do you feel the same way?” Her voice was sharp.

“Oh!” said Miranda, clasping her hands and pressing them against her heart. “If I could give them an eleven, I would! I have never seen such an inspired partnership between a human and a dog. It was as if they could read each other's minds.” She leaned forward and said to me, “I think you have the makings of a fine animal psychic. I will take you on as an apprentice, if you like.”

“No way, Geri,” whispered Pepe. “I do not want you reading my mind.”

There was a roar from the audience as they realized what these scores meant. The numbers on the scoreboard flashed and bells rang. Pepe and I had surpassed the score of Luis and Siren Song and had ousted Max from the competition. We were going to the finals! And according to Rebecca, we got a special prize: $5,000 to spend on a shopping spree in Beverly Hills.

Once we were backstage, Rebecca informed us that I should get a really nice dress, as we were invited to a party at Caprice's house. A network executive had seen some of the film from the show and was considering picking it up for his network. Pepe and I would be guests of honor.

I was already in a dreamy state when Felix came running up. His eyes were shining, his smile was bright, his embrace was strong, and his kiss was warm.

“That was fantastic,” he told me, still holding me in his arms. “I've never seen a better waltz.” He let me go, dropped to one knee, and gave Pepe a pat on the head. “And same goes for you, little amigo.” Pepe put both forepaws on Felix's knee and lapped up the compliment. “There isn't a dog in the world who could have done better.”

“I know,” said Pepe.

“So,” said Felix, rising to his feet. “I have good news for you.”

“Beef jerky?” Pepe exclaimed.

“Got the results back from the scan already. No hits! Pepe is all yours.”

“Of course he is all mine,” I said, picking him up and waltzing him around the room.

Just being on Rodeo Drive intimidated me. The storefronts were dazzling with white stucco walls and arched windows. The street was immaculate, with neatly spaced palm trees and trimmed bushes sporting white flowers. The names of the stores represented the highest echelon of design and price: Dolce & Gabbana, Versace, Christian Dior, Louis Vuitton, Prada, Ralph Lauren, Tiffany & Co., and Chanel.

Pepe seemed to know his way around. He went running down the street and dashed into the open door of a boutique just as a customer left: a rather disheveled young woman in sweatpants and sunglasses, with her hair wrapped in a turban. I almost ran into the door as I turned around to stare at her. Surely she was someone famous. Only a movie star would dress like that on Rodeo Drive.

By the time I got into the store, Pepe was all the way in the back, by the dressing rooms, sitting on a gray velvet tufted sofa. He looked like he was holding court. He was surrounded by a bevy of salesclerks: skinny young women in chic black dresses.

“Pepe! You're back,” said one.

“Where have you been?” asked another.

“We missed you so much,” said the third.

Pepe was chattering away, but I'm not sure they understood him because they kept talking to him.

They looked up as I approached. Then they looked behind me, out to the street. Seeing no one with me, they turned back to Pepe.

“Where's Caprice?” they asked.

“I am no longer with Caprice,” said Pepe, though his voice sounded sad. He looked at me. “I am now a star on reality TV, and this is my partner, Geri.”

One of the salesgirls approached me, her hand held out. “Are you Caprice's assistant?”

“No, I'm Geri Sullivan,” I said. “And this is
my
dog. His name is Pepe.”

“I'm Chloe,” she said. “And we know Pepe. He's our favorite customer. So did you say you work for Caprice?” She looked over my outfit, and I could see the puzzled look on her face. “Are you her stylist?”

“No, I don't work for Caprice,” I said. “Pepe is my dog.” It was nice to be able to say that with confidence. “We're here to buy a dress.”

“For Caprice?” asked another one of the salesgirls.

“No! This has nothing to do with Caprice!” I knew my voice was getting shrill. “The dress is for me.”

“This is not the best place to buy a dress,” Pepe said. “But we will begin here.” He leaped off the couch and went running over to the rack.

“This is how he does it,” said Chloe, trailing behind him. “Which one, Pepe?”

Pepe sauntered down the line of clothing and kept glancing from the dresses to me. “Not the right color,” he said. “Not the right shape.”

Every so often he would put out his little paw and tap a dress. Chloe would instantly remove it from the rack and hand it to one of the salesgirls, who ferried it to the dressing room.

“That should do for a start,” said Pepe when five dresses had been chosen. He settled back on the sofa where the salesgirls plied him with petit fours, and I was whisked away to the dressing room where one of the stylists (they called themselves stylists), named Zan, was designated to assist me. I hated the idea of removing my clothes in front of this twenty-year-old with her perky breasts and bone-thin torso, but I had no choice. She wrestled my dress rehearsal clothes off of me, dropping them into a pile on the floor, and helped me step into the first gown. It was tomato red, with one asymmetrical shoulder strap and a lot of draping in the long skirt, which split to reveal my legs. It was movie-star glamorous and all wrong on me.

“Come, let's show Pepe,” said Zan.

“I don't know.” I turned back and forth, inspecting myself in the mirror, but eventually I was persuaded to go out. A little crowd of customers had gathered, which made me even more self-conscious.

“Oh! That will look smashing on Caprice,” said Chloe as soon as I emerged from behind the screen. Apparently they still thought I was a stand-in sent by Caprice to try on dresses for her. Rather flattering. I wouldn't mind having Caprice's figure. But what would look good on her waiflike body would look ridiculous on me. Pepe agreed.

“All wrong!” he said. “That is not the one.”

“How much is this dress?” I asked as Zan helped me wriggle out of it.

“Seven thousand, five hundred,” she said.

“Oh my God!” I stumbled in surprise and stepped on the hem of the skirt, just as Zan was picking it up to put it back on the hanger. I thought I heard the fabric rip. Zan saw my horrified face. “Don't worry. It will just go on Caprice's expense account.”

I tried to tell her again I was not with Caprice, but she would not listen to me.

“Let's go with something less expensive,” I suggested.

Zan next helped me wriggle into a black dress that looked like a series of bandages wrapped around my torso. It did make me look a lot slimmer but sort of like a sausage that had been poured into a tube, with my boobs spilling out at the top and my legs seeming enormously long as they emerged from the micro skirt. Pepe dismissed that dress as well.

In this fashion, we went through all five dresses, and then Pepe indicated it was time to go. He jumped off the sofa, bowed to the salesgirls, and trotted in front of me out onto the sidewalk.

“That was horrible, Pepe,” I said. “I hate shopping for clothes.”

“I know,” said Pepe. “That is why you buy all your clothes at those awful places that smell of poverty and old hand cream.”

“Value Village is not a horrible place,” I insisted. “It is very fashion forward in Seattle to wear vintage clothes.”

“Perhaps in Seattle. But in Los Angeles, you must dress like the Los Angelenos.” He glanced back at me. I was wearing the yoga pants and tank top I had worn to the rehearsal. He gave a little sniff, as if the clothing smelled bad, then pawed at the door of another boutique.

The same scene was repeated here, with the salesgirls—or I should say, stylists—greeting him with enthusiasm and assuming I was sent by Caprice to pick up some gowns. Again I tried on several dresses, none of which suited me, and we made our departure.

“Now we are ready for the real thing!” declared Pepe, turning down a side street. “I know just the place to find your dress.”

“Why didn't we go there first?” I asked as we stood outside a small shop with an arched window. Window boxes outside the shop were planted with trimmed hedges. The awning was green and white striped. A bell rang as we stepped over the threshold. It was much smaller and darker than the first two stores.

“We were just warming up,” said Pepe. “Those were places that I used to shop with Caprice. But I think you will be happier here.”

At this store it was different. The owner, a buxom blonde who wore a strange yellow and black striped silk blouse over tight knit pants, fawned over Pepe, but she did not call him by name. And Pepe went around pointing with his paw at dresses, which were much more to my taste. They were handmade and one-of-a-kind, using recycled fabric, according to the store owner. And I got to try them on by myself instead of being assisted.

The first dress was flattering. The second dress really accentuated my curves. And I fell in love with the third dress. It was made out of a transparent silver fabric with an overlay of black lace. It had a fitted bodice and a loosely gathered skirt. Beads glittered in the bodice, and the hem was finished with a heavier band of fabric that gave the skirt a weight that made it swing in the most delicious way. I twirled in front of Pepe.

“I think that is it!” said Pepe. “You look radiant.”

“I feel like a movie star in it,” I said.

“As well you should, Geri,” said Pepe. “We are only one performance away from fame and fortune.”

The dress was well within my price range. I had enough left over to buy a pair of strappy silver sandals that totally complemented the dress. I sailed out of the shop with my packages and Pepe, feeling on top of the world.

Pepe and I had the highest scores on
Dancing with Dogs
. My sexy boyfriend was taking me to a party in Beverly Hills. And Pepe was really my Pepe, despite what some Beverly Hills shopgirls thought.

Then Pepe said something that made my blood run cold: “Too bad Caprice was not with us. Those shopgirls could have told her I was her dog.”