Chow Down

by Laurien Berenson

  “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.”

  26

  Well, 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.

  Standing beside the producer was Lisa Kim. Yoda was cradled in her arms.

  “Holy crap,” Ben said under his breath. “Where did she come from?”

  Lisa smiled uncertainly as if she wasn’t sure of her welcome. But the producer had already placed his hand between her shoulder blades and was pushing her forward, out in front of the cameras.

  Live TV, I thought. You had to love it.

  27

  “What have we here?” Darren said smoothly, “It looks as if there’s one more dog to add to our lineup.”

  When the camera shifted to pick up Lisa and Yoda, the pet expert glared daggers at the producer, who ignored his fit of pique and pointed to his watch. Good thing Darren had recovered quickly; I had a feeling the rest of us looked like we were in shock.

  Simone’s hands, resting on the back of the bench near my shoulder, had tightened their grip until her knuckles turned white.

  Dorothy was shaking her head. “No way,” she muttered. “No way . . .”

  I just stared, listening while Darren introduced our late arrival. Lisa’s posture was stiff and her smile looked strained. The cameraman pulled in for a close-up shot of Yoda, then simply stayed there. At least the Yorkie, with her topknot tied up with a jaunty blue bow, looked cute.

  Darren had rearranged his copy before the segment started and now with the unexpected addition, he found himself running short of time. He showcased the Yorkie briefly, threw in a quick wrap-up, then cued Darlene and Rob. A minute later the show cut to commercial. Our first television appearance was history.

  As soon as the lights dimmed and the cameras focused elsewhere, Lisa strode off the set and into the wings. Doug immediately went hurrying after her.

  Simone looked as though she wanted to follow, then thought better of it. Instead she went the other way; I watched as she thanked the cohosts and the producer for their help with our appearance.

  A technician slipped in behind me and unhooked my microphone. When that was done, I stood up and stretched, then gave Faith a pat. I was happy our part was over; and happier still that we hadn’t acquitted ourselves too badly.

  Bill, looking bemused, was gazing in the direction that Lisa and Doug had disappeared. “What is going on around here?” he asked.

  “Beats me,” said Ben. He yanked off his own mic and handed it back. “Lisa certainly stole our thunder, showing up at the last moment like that, didn’t she?”

 
She had indeed. It wasn’t hard to imagine that our earlier contributions would have been all but eclipsed by the adorable image of the little Yorkie that had stayed onscreen throughout the last sixty seconds of the piece.

  “She can’t do that,” Dorothy said firmly. “I’m going to file a protest.”

  “Can’t do what?” I asked.

  “She can’t just drop out of the contest and then drop back in again. It ought to be against the rules.”

  “Technically, I don’t think she ever dropped out. And thanks to her eleventh-hour arrival today, Yoda hasn’t missed any of our appearances.”

  “We’ll just see about that,” said Dorothy.

  She started to stalk away but Chris materialized from somewhere behind the cameras and grabbed her. Arm around her shoulder, he herded the older woman toward the exit door.

  Lisa and Doug hadn’t returned. And by now Simone and Cindy had disappeared as well. It was time for us to leave.

  Preappearance, we’d had people with us every minute, telling us where to go and what to do. Now suddenly everyone had lost interest in us. The staff and the producers were moving on to upcoming topics, and we were on our own.

  Bill and Allison found a spot in the wings from which to watch the remainder of the show. Ginger lay down quietly at their feet. Ben took Brando and went hurrying back to the green room. I wondered if he was looking to smooth things over with Cindy. Faith and I rode the elevator down to the ground floor by ourselves.

  I figured we’d go get our car, drive home to Connecticut, and that would be that. But of course, in my life, nothing is ever that simple. Come to think of it, I’d probably be disappointed if it was.

  Instead Faith and I exited the building and ran right into Lisa, Doug, Simone, and Cindy. The four of them, plus Yoda, were standing in a tight little cluster in the middle of the sidewalk. All of them looked angry, and it sounded as though they were all trying to talk at once.

  I could only catch snatches of what was being said. Doug and Cindy were berating Lisa. She was attacking them right back. Simone was placing blame on anyone and everyone.