“We’re announcing that later today,” the woman says. “It’s our final casting notice forHappily Maybe After.”
I look up from the dog in her lap. Sleek hair. A silk blouse—the color of pewter. And that signature snakeskin purse. She’s the woman I saw Linus having coffee with the other week. Of course. That makes perfect sense.
But I only have eyes for the four-legged furball. “Jubilee,” I breathe, reverently. “She’s the world’s cutest dog.”
I stride over to the cutie pie, giving a quick stay command with the back of my hand to Captain so he remains put. “I follow her on social. She has her own clothing line. Her own food line. Her own leashes. And her very own dog hotel in Los Angeles.”
The woman beams, pleased, it seems, with my knowledge. “She does. She’s kind of like magic.”
“May I pet her?”
She gives a regal nod of her chin. “You may.”
I stroke Jubilee’s soft little head, and the dog sits up, inviting the attention. “It’s like petting a lamb’s-ear plant,” I say, since those leaves are softer than pillows.
“Isn’t she amazing?” the woman says.
“Are you her handler?” I shake my head. “Excuse my manners. I’m just starstruck.” I stick out a hand. “Chloe Rivers. Chloe’s Paw-sitive Dog Training. And this is my colleague Sawyer Dumont. He runs the Dog Tails dog daycare centers. All eight of them.”
Sawyer strides over and extends a hand. “Pleasure to meet you. You must be Alexandra Bourbon.”
How did he know that? Holy shit. He’s good.
“Yes, I am,” she says with a trace of a smile that she erases quickly. “I’m the producer of the show. But Jubilee’s been spending time with me here and there. We really wanted you to meet her.”
Then, maybe because of my dog senses or a mix of instincts, I stick out my hand to the star. “It’s a pleasure to meet you too,” I say to Jubilee.
The little angel, of course, knows how to shake. She offers me a paw and a demure tilt of her head.
When I let go, I say to Jubilee, “I’d like you to meet my dog, Captain.”
Before I can even turn around though, Sawyer clears his throat and says, “Captain, say hi.”
We barely rehearsed this moment, but it’s perfect. Captain raises his paw and waves to Jubilee.
“They’re waving to each other,” Linus exclaims from behind his desk, like he’s losing his mind. “So freaking cute. I want to put this on my socials. Can I put this on my socials?”
The producer shakes her head, gesturing to the chairs. “Jubilee needs all appearances cleared with her owner. Let’s sit down. I’m glad to know you’re a fan of Jubilee. Linus has set up meetings with a few local trainers. I’m taking this opportunity to work with local businesses seriously.”
“Makes sense,” I say, nerves thrumming through me all over again. “We have a lot of great dog trainers in and around the Darling Springs area.”
“Some of them are quite impressive,” she says, her eyes drifting to the closed door that Hallie just walked through. My stomach plummets again.
“One of them does synchronized routines,” Linus puts in.
And it falls to the center of the Earth. That’s Abner. He’s a former circus performer who worked with stage dogs. I’ll never win against him. “That sounds delightful,” I say, mustering enthusiasm I don’t feel.
“If you’re looking for a Vegas-style show,” Sawyer says, all cool and smooth, and damn, that’s a good point.
Alexandra casts Sawyer a look I can’t read, then pivots back to me. “Why don’t you tell me why you think we should hire you? As you can imagine, our lead dog already has her own handler. Corinne Madison Pavlov.”
“She’s amazing,” I say, since I’ve heard of the famed Hollywood handler, known for her meticulous and loving style.
“She is. But since the show centers around meet-cutes at a dog park, there will be dogs in many scenes.”
And it’s showtime.Confidence, like my mother said. Like Sawyer exudes. Because I don’t do Vegas-style dogs. Or no-nonsense training. But I believe in what I do.
“I can handle all of that with my brand of positive training. I believe dogs, like people, learn best with positive reinforcement rather than negative. I want them to be motivated to produce an action rather than operate from fear,” I say. “I’ve trained all sorts of behaviors in and out of dogs, from stopping barking, to ending food aggression, to shaking paws, to rolling over, and to saying hi, as you saw. With that in mind, I’ll be able to review the scripts and develop training sequences for any desired action for the supporting cast of dogs while ensuring a happy and safe workplace for cast members, both two-legged and four.” I flash back to Angelo’s words—treat it like an audition—and I slide into the performance part. “I could even show you a few of the tricks my own dog knows. Sawyer, would you mind?”
