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.”
Chapter 26
Back at the hotel, I took a shower, then slipped into the silver and black lace dress. I felt a little strange in it, like I was an imposter, pretending to be someone rich or famous. I put on the silver sandals and twirled around in front of the mirror. Pepe did his best to give a little wolf whistle, but it came out as “Woohoo!” Pepe can’t whistle, and I’ve never heard him howl either.
Felix was waiting for us down in the lobby when we descended the stairs. He looked magnificent, in a gunmetal-gray jacket over a black T-shirt and black jeans. He gave a wolf whistle. He didn’t have any trouble whistling. I’m not sure about howling. Maybe someday I’ll find out.
He ushered us into the car he had rented: a silver Toyota Prius. Leave it to Felix to eschew Hollywood glitz for something economical and environmentally friendly. I had a fleeting moment of nostalgia for Ted’s sleek black Jaguar, but I had to admit Felix’s values were closer to
mine. And, of course, he made Pepe sit in the back.
The party was in full swing when we arrived. This time we were inside the house, in a huge living room, decorated with velour armchairs, velvet sofas, gilded tables, and gold silk drapes framing the windows. A huge chandelier sparkled over a gilt dining room table that was covered with trays of appetizers. In the next room, guests lined up for drinks from two handsome bartenders who worked behind a bar that looked like it came straight from a Paris club.
Rebecca introduced me to Don Hillman, the CEO of the network interested in picking up the show.
“One of our finalists,” Rebecca said. “It was a complete surprise. The poodle was favored to win. But that’s what’s so delightful about these shows. We got some early audience feedback that they loved the Chihuahua, so we were able to make sure he progressed in the competition.”
I wanted to protest that Pepe and I had won fair and square, despite the obstacles thrown in our path, but I kept my mouth shut. Not Pepe.
“The best dog will always win,” he announced.
“This little guy does have quite a lot of character,” said Mr. Hillman, patting him on the head. “One can almost imagine him announcing that he intends to win the whole thing.” He gave me a kiss on the cheek and patted Pepe on the head again before allowing Rebecca to whisk him away to meet some of the other key players.
As soon as I put Pepe down, he went running over to Caprice and tried to get her attention. This time Caprice, who was sitting on a sofa deep in conversation with Miranda Skarbos and Beverly Holywell, called Jennifer over and handed her Princess so she could put Pepe on her lap instead.
“He reminds me of my Chihuahua,” Caprice said, kissing him on the top of his head. “In fact, he had the same name, Pepe. But my Pepe ran away about a year ago. He was my favorite dog. I still miss him every day.”
“I did not leave you on purpose,” said Pepe, licking her cheek. “Something happened, although I do not remember exactly what. All I remember is darkness and then being in dog jail.”
“Oh!” Miranda cried out. “Can I do a reading for you and let you know what happened to him?”
“That would be wonderful,” said Caprice. “You can’t imagine how much it hurts, not knowing.”
“Do you have anything that belonged to Pepe?” Miranda asked. “It should be something he was particularly fond of. An item of that sort gives off the strongest residual vibrations—allows me to make the best connection when trying to channel the dearly departed.”
“Humph,” said Pepe. “I do not mind the ‘dearly’ reference, but ‘departed’ I am not!”
“I don’t know,” said Caprice. “I was so crushed when he was gone that I got rid of everything that was his. I just couldn’t bear being reminded of him. He was so special to me.”
“I am still special,” said Pepe. “Everybody says so.”
“Wait,” Caprice continued. “There is Pepe’s old Squeaky.”
“My Squeaky!”
“He dearly loved his Squeaky—it’s a little stuffed bear that squeaks when you squeeze it. I keep it on a shelf in my bedroom by his photo. Just a minute—I’ll get it for you.”
Caprice left the room, and Pepe ran over to the small settee that Felix and I were sharing by the fireplace.
“My Squeaky!” he cried once more. “Oh, Geri, I am so excited to see my Squeaky again.”
“He’s pretty excited, isn’t he?” said Felix.
I leaned down toward my dog, who was virtually turning cartwheels at my feet.
“Pepe, you never told me you liked squeaky toys. I could’ve gotten you one.”
“Gracias, but there has been only uno Squeaky for me, Geri,” he said. “Now and forever.”
“Oh.”
Caprice came back in holding a small, rather scruffy-looking brown bear. “Here it is,” she said, handing it to Miranda.
Pepe dashed over just as Miranda took it from Caprice. “Mine! Mine! Mine!” he yelled, leaping up and clamping his teeth onto one end of it. He then began a tug-of-war with Miranda, a struggle punctuated with squeaks.
“Oh my,” Miranda said as Pepe pulled it toward him and she pulled back on it. Squeak! Squeak! Squeak! went the bear.
“Pepe!” I scolded.
“No, that’s OK,” Miranda told me as she continued her tug-of-war with Pepe. “I feel very strong vibrations from this toy. They are incredibly strong—some of the most intense I have ever felt!”
“They should be,” said Pepe, but he lost his grip on the bear when he spoke. He looked up at it sadly. Miranda was placing it against the middle of her forehead.
“¡Ay, caramba!” Miranda exclaimed when it touched her. She pulled it away as if it were red-hot and held it before her eyes. “How odd! I wonder why I said that?”
I could have told her that Pepe was able to speak Spanish. But wouldn’t that mean that my Pepe was really Caprice’s Pepe? I didn’t want to believe that.
“Yes,” said Miranda. She held the toy bear up almost prayerfully. “I need quiet, please. Total silence.”
Everyone in the room became quiet. All except Pepe, that is, who kept jumping up and down in front of Miranda. “Give me back my Squeaky!” he said over and over again. “I want my Squeaky!”
I went over and grabbed him.
“But I want—”
“Shhh,” I told him. “She’s trying to channel you.”
“That is loco,” he said. “I am right here.”
“Ooooooooh,” Miranda moaned, her eyes closed, her tone somewhere between pain and pleasure. “The small white dog is near . . .”
“Is that not what I just said?” Pepe told me.
Caprice sat down, her eyes on Miranda, and Princess jumped up into her lap.
“Yessssss,” said Miranda, almost swooning in her chair. Then she sat up bolt straight and quivered slightly as she spoke. “I feel his presence. He is with us.”
“Of course I am. I’m right here in the room!” Pepe said.
“He is speaking to me. He is giving me a message to give to you, Caprice.”
“What a fraud,” said Pepe. “Nobody but you can hear me speak, Geri.”
Miranda swayed back and forth. “Your Pepe is beyond the Rainbow Bridge, Caprice,” she said.
“What Rainbow Bridge?” asked Pepe. “Where is this bridge? I don’t remember crossing a bridge.”
“Oh!” gasped Caprice. She clutched Princess close.
“Yes, I am sorry to say he has crossed over,” said Miranda.
“What does that mean?” asked Pepe. “What did I cross?”
“But he wants you to know that he loved you very much.”
“Of course I love her!” said Pepe. “Why is she talking about me in the past tense?”
“Hush!” I said. “She is not talking about you. She is talking about a dog that died.”
That shut him up. He sat down and studied Caprice with a curious look on his face.
“Oh, my Pepe,” said Caprice. Tears began to fall from her eyes. “How did it happen?”
Miranda closed her eyes and was quiet again, lifting her head and moving it from side to side as if trying to listen to whispers.
“He says it was an accident. An auto accident.”
There was a gasp, and I saw Jennifer put her hand to her mouth.
“It happened right in front of the house. He ran out into the street. He was hit by a car.”
“Oh, my poor darling!” cried Caprice. She glanced over her shoulder at Jennifer. “You knew about this?”
Jennifer’s eyes went wide. “We didn’t want to upset you.”
“It was painless,” Miranda said quickly. “He wants you to know he didn’t suffer. His last thought was of you.”
Caprice cried out. I had not really expected such deep feeling from her. But she seemed to be in pain.
“She is telling lies, Geri,” said Pepe. “Tell her it is not true. I am right here.”
“I can’t, Pepe,” I said.
“Well, if you won’t, I will!” He trotted over to Caprice and pawed at her legs. She patted him on the head while she watched Miranda, stricken.
“I am alive! I am right here!” said Pepe.
I don’t know who was more pathetic. Pepe, so frantic to get her attention, or Caprice, with tears running down her cheeks, leaving behind the tracks of her mascara.
“He says his life with you was very happy. You made him very happy.”
“Can you give him a message from me?” Caprice asked.
Miranda nodded.
“Tell him I loved him more than any dog I have ever owned,” Caprice said. Pepe, at her feet, whimpered. Princess, in her lap, whined.
“Oh, and he has another message for you,” said Miranda, her head cocked to one side. “Do you believe in reincarnation?”
“I don’t know,” said Caprice. “Maybe.”
“Well, Pepe says that he loved you so much that he arranged to come back to you in the form of Princess.”
“Could it be?” said Caprice, holding up Princess and shaking her to and fro. “Are you my Pepe?”
“Ridiculous!” snapped Pepe. “Of course she is not. I am right here.”
“He will always be with you. He will never leave you,” Miranda said.
“I will call you my Princess Pepe from now on,” said Caprice, showering the Papillon with kisses.
“¡Ay caramba!” said Pepe. “How could she confuse that prissy dog with me? I would never come back as a Papillon.”
“Don’t you get it, Pepe?” I asked. I was about to explain to him that this proved he was not really Caprice’s dog. But then I realized how this would make him feel. Did I have to spoil his illusions? He liked to believe he had once lived with a movie star.
Chapter 27
Felix took me back to the hotel so I could leave Pepe in the room while we went out to dinner. I figured he was feeling sad, and I really didn’t want to leave him. But I didn’t want to miss my chance for a romantic date with Felix either.
“I’ll leave the computer on for you,” I said, setting up my laptop.
I took the opportunity to freshen up and redo my makeup. Pepe sat on the bed watching me as I reapplied my lipstick.
Chihuahua Confidential Page 14
