17. Dog Extras
DOG EXTRAS
CHLOE
I know this dog. I didn’t know she’d be here though.
I point, slack-jawed, chills running through me. “Jubilee is on the show?”
The woman holding the famous rescue Pomeranian-Chihuahua-Papillon mix parts her plum-painted lips and strokes the dog’s soft head. I don’t need to pet the seven-pound Jubilee to know she’s soft. The Pom-Chi looks soft, like she has angel fur.
“We’re announcing that later today,” the woman says. “It’s our final casting notice for Happily 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?”
“I’d love to.” Sawyer stands, turns to Captain, who’s parked dutifully in the middle of the floor, and says, “Take a bow.”
Captain lowers his front legs in a little curtsy.
The producer claps. Linus cheers.
“Captain, touch,” Sawyer says, and Captain gently noses Sawyer’s hand. It’s sweet and fills my chest with warmth, and I dare anyone not to feel their heart grow.
I turn to Linus next, suspecting he’ll love this—and it can’t hurt to have the mayor on my side. “Could I use a couple of your hats?”
His eyes light up. “Of course!”
He scrambles to the coat hook and grabs a newsboy cap, a fedora, and a gangster-style hat. He sets them on his desk.
I take over the commands now. “Pick a hat,” I say to Captain.
Captain trots over, nudges the fedora, picks it up, and pops it onto his head. Linus’s jaw drops. Sawyer smothers a smile. Alexandra purses her lips. She has the poker-est poker face ever.
“I can teach any of the dogs on the show those tricks or anything like that. And I could even teach Jubilee all of those today if you’d like,” I say, the spirit of confidence flowing through me. Walk in like you’re the one they should be pitching to.
The producer strokes Jubilee’s head. The little princess basks in the adoration. “I’m sure she could learn them in five minutes,” she says, a little snooty.
“I have no doubt,” I say, since it’s important to be, well, a little obsequious with the star. “She’s as brilliant as she is beautiful.”
“She is. It was such a coup when we cast her,” Alexandra says, clearly adoring the dog—and the win. She draws in an imperious breath. “Now, tell me why I should work with you and shoot the scenes at Dog Tails.”
It’s his turn now. My stomach jumps.
But Sawyer looks unflappable, cool, and so professional as he meets her eyes.
“I’ve been studying your production company and the work you do.
Your shows have been incredibly successful.
I understand you always come in on budget.
The actors speak highly of you. You’ve earned their respect and the respect of this industry. ”
How does he know that? Why didn’t I think to research that?
“They do,” she says, a note of pride in her voice.
“Efficiency matters in any business,” he continues.
“Especially entertainment, where it’s easy to overspend.
If you shoot at our daycare, you’ll have space that needs no additional build-out and staff who know what they’re doing.
And I presume you’ll need access to plenty of dogs for extras.
” He nods to me. “Chloe can handle the script breakdowns and train your supporting actors. I can provide signed talent waivers from daycare clients so their dogs can be used as extras, and paid for their time, but with no additional fee for my time, of course. You get well-behaved animals, and your production stays on track. On time. On budget.” He takes a beat, then delivers his closing line. “Without pulling focus from Jubilee.”
The producer nods slowly. “Interesting. Very interesting. Dog extras.” She turns to Linus. “Thank you for setting this up.” Then she whips her gaze back to us. “We’ll be in touch.”
That’s all she says, and I have no idea how to interpret that. None. I just hope she wasn’t as turned on by Sawyer’s speech as I was.
Efficiency? Talent waivers? Pulling focus?
Why was that hot? It wasn’t the other night at the bar when I pretended to snooze. But it was just now. Maybe seeing him in action made all that business-management stuff sexy. I don’t even know. But I know this—I might need to change my panties.
I gather Captain’s leash as Alexandra gives me a stony nod. “Thank you again,” I say.
One more nod, and I’ve been dismissed.
We stride through the lobby quietly. My brow knits as I try to take the temperature on that meeting. But I’m not getting a reading. Once we step outside, the doors swing open again behind us, and Linus races down the steps, wingtips flapping.
My heart skips. Clearly, he must’ve just been told we won the gig.
He stops, catching his breath. “Wow, that was quite a sprint. I mean, it was only ten feet, but sure.”
“Yes, it was,” Sawyer says.
“What’s going on?” I ask, desperately wanting to get to the good stuff. I hope he’s here with good stuff.
“I just wanted to say that was amazing. I’ve never been so proud of this town. I’d love to take the two of you out to dinner. Would you be available at seven?”
Oh. I deflate. He didn’t come out to tell us we’d blown Alexandra away. But I probably can’t say no to dinner with the mayor. Besides, Linus is good people.
“Sure, sure,” I say, then turn to Sawyer, unable to resist a dig. “Or do you have a hot date, Sawyer?”
He checks his watch. “It appears I’m free—unless dinner with the mayor counts as a hot date.”
Linus wags a finger. “Aww, you two.”