Chow Down (24 page)

Around the cameras and technicians, I could see Darlene sitting on a plump couch, interviewing a rising young tennis player. A kitchen set, currently dark, was off to the right. On the far side of that was a set that had been built to resemble an outdoor park. There were trees, and benches, and an area of open space in the front. Unless I missed my guess, that was where our segment would be taking place.

The interview ended; the show cut away to commercial. The tennis player stood up and stretched. A technician stepped up onto the set and unhooked his microphone.

“Good job!” said Darlene. She made eye contact and patted the tennis player's arm, her hand slim and white against his tanned muscles. “That should bring the fans flocking to your next tournament.”

“Right.” He gazed past her, looking bored. “Whatever.”

I wondered why he was there if he didn't have something he wanted to promote; but I'd been so busy looking around that I'd missed the interview and didn't have a clue. It was time for me to get back to Faith.

I slipped out the nearest door and found myself in a room filled with mostly empty cubicles. That wasn't the way I'd come in. When I went to retrace my steps, however, I found that the heavy door that led back to the set had locked behind me.

Just great, I thought. Now I had no idea how to get back to where I was supposed to be.

An open doorway on the other side of the room led to a corridor that appeared to go in the right direction. I headed that way. I'd almost reached the opening when the sound of a familiar voice stopped me in my tracks.

“I can't believe you let this happen!” Doug Allen was saying.

He sounded furious, and I wondered who he was talking to. The conversation seemed to be coming from the hallway on the other side of the wall. I shrank back into the nearest cubicle and ducked down beneath the partition.

“You've got a lot of nerve blaming me,” a woman said, sounding equally irate. It took me a moment to place her voice. But when she spoke again, I realized it was Simone Dorsey, Champion's PR director. “It's not my fault that she isn't here.”

They had to be talking about Lisa. I inched a little closer around the partition. I didn't want to miss a thing.

“Try telling that to the producers. They don't care whose fault it is, they just want me to fix things. And that means coming up with the five finalists I promised them.”

“I don't know what you expect me to do about that now.”

“I expect you to do your job. This contest was your idea, your baby. You were the one who said you knew how to make everything work out. You were supposed to be staying on top of things.”

“I
am
on top of things.”

“Great,” Doug said, his voice heavy with sarcasm. “Then where is our fifth finalist? Even the dumbest member of the audience is going to be able to count high enough to realize that one of the dogs that appears in all our promotional material is missing.”

I thought back to the conversation I'd had with Allison on the bus back from New York. She'd told me that Doug and Simone were romantically involved. What I was overhearing didn't sound like a lover's spat, however. This fight was all business and clearly serious.

“You're in charge of public relations,” Doug was saying. “Go find the producer and smooth things over. Isn't that what you're supposed to be good at? But for God's sake, whatever you do, don't tell them the truth.”

“I'm not stupid,” Simone snapped. “I'll think of something.”

“Do that. You got us into this mess, now you can get us out.”

I heard the sound of their retreating footsteps. One set of heels and another of leather-soled shoes headed off in different directions. After a minute, I popped out of the cubicle and stuck my head into the hallway. The coast was clear.

Even better, I could see the reception area at the end of the corridor, which meant that I knew where I was. And how to get back to where I belonged.

As I hurried to return to the green room before the producers came to get us for our segment, I thought about what I'd heard. Doug had criticized Simone's behavior with regard to Lisa's absence. Was he simply lashing out and looking for someone to blame? Or did he actually believe that Simone had had something to do with Lisa's disappearance?

Then I turned onto the hallway that led to the green room and saw that we'd already been summoned. All other thoughts fled as I hurried to catch up with the other finalists. Allison was walking at the back of the group with my Poodle by her side. Both of them were looking for me anxiously.

“Thank God,” she said, when I caught up. She pressed Faith's leash into my hand. “You just made it. It's time to go be on TV.”

W
ell, not quite.

It turned out that live television operated like much of the rest of the world. Hurry up and wait was the order of the day.

Our group was escorted back to the large room I'd just come from. Standing in the wings, I saw that the show was currently off the air; the network had cut away to local affiliates for morning news and weather. Darlene, Rob, and members of the crew were standing around chatting, drinking coffee, and relaxing for a few minutes until it was their turn again.

While the rest of the finalists were staring wide-eyed at the set, I took a moment to reconnect with Faith. I scratched under her chin and rubbed her ears and let her know that everything was all right. That was the problem with having a dog who was so attuned to my every mood; I knew she was picking up on my nervousness and wondering what was up.

As we waited, a couple of sound technicians scurried in and out among us, affixing small microphones to our clothing and asking each of us to speak in turn. One by one, we giggled and mumbled our way through the sound check. Then came Ben's turn.

He sighed and rolled his eyes, letting everyone know that he found the whole exercise incredibly boring and said, clearly and distinctly, “Now is the winter of our discontent, made glorious summer by this sun of York.”

Richard the Third
, I realized. What a show-off.

“I'm guessing you've done that before,” Darlene Minnick said with a smile. She'd come over to introduce herself and been stopped in her tracks by Ben's minisoliloquy.

“Many, many times.” The actor inclined his head with studied grace as he reached out and took her hand in his. Up close, Darlene was smaller than she appeared on television, almost tiny, in fact. Ben leaned down to minimize the distance between them. “I'm Ben O'Donnell.”

“I knew that name sounded familiar when I saw it in my notes,” Darlene replied. “You were on that soap opera
Moments in the Sun
, weren't you?”

“Yes, I was. Thank you for remembering.”

“You were very good, and I was really hooked. I tried never to miss an episode. I used to run home from high school every afternoon to watch it.”

Ouch, I thought. That had to have hurt.

But Ben didn't let it faze him. “It's always a pleasure to meet a fan,” he said. His voice had dropped to a deeper octave and I realized that he hadn't released the woman's hand. “Especially one who's in the business and understands the rigors of our profession.”

“Have I seen you in anything lately?” asked Darlene. “Please don't tell me you've retired. Talent like yours shouldn't go to waste.”

“At the moment, you might say that I'm between opportunities. I'm reading scripts and looking for that next important role. In the meantime, I'm amusing myself by letting my champion Boxer, Brando, participate in this worthwhile endeavor.”

Really, it was hard not to laugh. Listening to Ben's version, it sounded as though Brando had submitted his own contest entry and that all of us were engaged in doing some sort of charity work.

Darlene, however, was nodding in agreement. Maybe that had something to do with the fact that Ben was
still
holding her hand. On only a minute's acquaintance, the two of them looked pretty chummy.

Chris stepped aside as Cindy elbowed her way through the group to stand beside the pair. She didn't bother to mask her annoyance. I wondered if it had ever occurred to her that Ben looked like the kind of man who would flirt with a lamppost if he thought it would advance his opportunities.

“Darlene,” she said sharply. “Maybe you'd like to move on and meet our other finalists?”

“Of course.” With one last look at Ben, the show's cohost slowly withdrew her hand. When Darlene turned to the rest of us, her professional demeanor was firmly in place. “Welcome to
This Is Your Morning Show
. I can't tell you how pleased Rob and I are that all of you have dragged yourselves out of bed so early in the morning to come and join us.”

We all smiled appreciatively, as we were meant to. It was easy to see why the show was so popular with viewers. Darlene exuded a warmth and sincerity that came across as well in person as it did on television.

“Segments with dogs are my favorites,” she said. “I always say it's no fair that Darren gets to be the one who has all the fun. Have you met Darren yet?” She turned around and scanned the room. “I'm sure he'll be here any minute. He likes to have a few words with the dog owners before they're on the air. Everyone feeling okay?”

Dutifully, we all nodded.

“Anyone nervous?”

Most of us nodded again.

Darlene laughed. “Don't worry about that. Trust me, you'll all look great on camera and most of the focus will be on your dogs anyway. Take a few deep breaths and remember to just act natural. Once it starts, the segment will be over before you know it. Oh good, here comes our pet expert now.”

Once again, introductions were made. Darren Abernathy was carrying several index cards. He thumbed through the stack as we were presented, staring at each handler-and-dog team as if trying to commit facts and faces to memory. I wondered what he had written in advance about Faith and me. Considering his bias against Poodles, I wasn't feeling terribly optimistic.

Then Darren reached the end of the line and began to frown. He held up his last card and looked around the set. “We go on in two minutes. Where's the Yorkie?”

Doug gulped.

Darlene went slightly pale. “I sent Jerry up to your room with a note twenty minutes ago,” she said. “Didn't you get it?”

“No, I didn't get it. Don't tell me there's been a change. You know I don't like change. What did it say? I'm prepped for these five breeds. There better not be any last-minute substitutions.”

Darren's mood was suddenly thunderous. Our judging committee began to look worried. Was I the only one who found it astounding that the show's renowned
dog expert
was incapable of ad-libbing about a breed he hadn't prepped for? Even Aunt Peg could have pulled that off creditably.

“No subs,” Darlene said soothingly. “But the Yorkie's out.”

“Out? What do you mean,
out
?” He waved the last index card in the air, like maybe he thought he was a magician and that would cause the missing dog to appear.

“The dog and owner aren't here,” Simone said.

Darren swung his gaze her way. “Who are you?”

They'd been introduced only a minute earlier, but clearly Darren hadn't been paying attention. Simone looked a little taken aback by the man's rudeness. It was obvious she wasn't accustomed to being overlooked.

“Simone Dorsey, director of public relations for Champions Dog Food.”

“You're the one who was responsible for bringing me five dogs for my weekly segment. Five finalists from your ‘All Dogs Are Champions' contest. A Brittany, a Poodle, a Scottie, a Boxer, and a Yorkie.” He ticked off the breeds on his fingers. “That's five. Why do I only see four here?”

“There was a bit of a problem—”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“Our fifth dog-and-handler pair became indisposed.”

“Indisposed?” Darren's eyes narrowed. “What does that mean?”

I glanced discreetly at the other finalists. We were all wondering the answer to that, too.

“Lisa became ill and she couldn't make it. None of us had any warning. It was a last-minute thing.”

“How ill?” asked Darren.

“Violently,” Simone confirmed. Standing beside her, Chris made retching noises.

“I see. And there was no one else who could have brought the dog . . .” He looked down and consulted his notes. “This Yorkie . . . Yoda?”

“No, there wasn't.” Doug stepped in to continue the story. “Each of our five finalist dogs is a cherished family pet. They work together with their owners as a team. Once Lisa became ill”—he shrugged helplessly—“there really wasn't anything we could do.”

Darren turned back to Darlene. “This is a fine mess. I hope you realize that changing from five dogs to four will upset the symmetry of my entire presentation. I'll have to eliminate some things I meant to say and pad others. My delivery will undoubtedly suffer.”

The cohost patted his arm, just as I'd seen her do earlier with the tennis player. “You're a professional,” she said earnestly. “I have every faith in your ability to cope. I'm sure you'll do just fine.”

Darren blinked several times. He seemed to be considering whether Darlene was being sincere or simply humoring him. “Just make sure I'm not the one who gets blamed if things don't go as planned,” he said finally. Then he spun around and walked away.

“Don't mind Darren,” Darlene said when the pet expert was out of earshot. “He's always a little cranky first thing in the morning. He'll come around.”

It seemed to me that if Darren had problems dealing with dogs and early mornings, then he had the wrong job. But nobody was asking for my opinion and I wouldn't have dreamt of offering it. No doubt Aunt Peg would have been impressed by my restraint.

After all the drama that preceded it, amazingly our five-minute segment went off almost without a hitch. Much of the piece was devoted to a lead-in about dog food choices. Darren talked about the importance of good nutrition and of feeding your dog a balanced diet. Then he introduced Doug and the two of them discussed the lengthy research-and-development process that Champions went through before introducing a new dog food to the public.

After that Simone was brought out to speak about the company's commitment to providing the best possible canine products to the dog owners of America. She gushed about the exciting contest that Champions had decided to sponsor, mentioning that it had drawn thousands of worthy entries from all over the country. I thought Simone's performance was a bit over the top, but Darren, Darlene, and Rob were all smiling so I guessed it played well.

Then came our turn. Darren introduced each of the finalists. He spoke briefly about the attributes of each featured breed. Then, one by one, we were pushed out of the wings to join the others under the hot lights. I might have been trembling slightly, but Faith was perfect.

Brando and Ginger had preceded us onto the set. Ben, Bill, and Allison had had their turns and were now seated at opposite ends of the park bench. Doug and Simone were standing behind them, looking like a pair of proud parents. When Darren beckoned me out to join him, it was Faith who responded to the hand signal. I just followed along in her wake.

“And here we have our third finalist, Standard Poodle, Faith, and her owner, Melanie Travis,” Darren was saying. “Melanie, most Poodles I know have names like Fifi and Pierre in honor of their French heritage. How did you come to name your Poodle Faith?”

Good grief, I thought. With all the wonderful things there were to say about the Poodle breed,
that
was all he could come up with to ask me? Not only that, but the expert had his facts wrong.

“Actually, Darren,” I said with a bright smile, “Standard Poodles originated in Germany, where they were bred to be used as hunting dogs, so names like Adolf or Heidi might have been better choices. But Faith comes from a long line of American champions and she was given to me by someone who wanted to demonstrate her faith in my abilities.”

“Isn't that interesting?” Darren said, sounding as though he thought my answer had been anything but.

The other finalists had been asked a second question at that point. They'd been given the opportunity to explain why they thought their particular dog was best suited to be named winner of the contest.

Darren didn't bother to do that with us. Instead he merely leaned down and gave Faith a dismissive pat on the head, then waved us back to a seat on the bench. Obviously it didn't pay to contradict the man in charge, even when he didn't know what he was talking about.

Dorothy and MacDuff were up last. Dorothy strode confidently out into the spotlight but the Scottie hung back. His feet simply stopped moving. When he hit the end of his short leash, Dorothy gave the leather strip a snap.

“Come along,” she said briskly.

“Yes, please.” Darren crouched down and tapped the floor in front of himself, drawing the Scottie forward. “What a dignified little dog you are.”

MacDuff didn't look much impressed by the flattery but Dorothy was beaming. “He really
is
special, isn't he? MacDuff has known what a star he was from the time he was a tiny puppy. Now we're fortunate that the good people at Champions Dog Food are going to let the whole world know how wonderful my boy is. ‘All Dogs Are Champions' is the perfect name for this contest and MacDuff will be the perfect winner. Really, when you look at all that he's accomplished, there's nobody else here that can hold a candle to his record—”

“Very good,” Darren interrupted, shutting her down. He liked to hear himself speak entirely too much to listen to a long-winded monologue from someone else during his air time. “He certainly looks like he ought to be a little trooper. Now that we've seen all of our wonderful finalists—”

Abruptly he stopped speaking. Darren was staring off into the wings and I turned to see why.

Having grown accustomed to the bright lights, it took a moment for my eyes to adjust. Then it took another for me to believe what I was seeing. The segment producer was waving frantically, trying to cue Darren that he had more to do, that the piece wasn't finished yet.