Her voice shook as she began talking, but after a few sentences she felt a sense of ease settle over her as the familiar words came tumbling out. She did this all day every day, and the well-worn grooves of habit, combined with her desire to impart the lesson, far outweighed the strangeness of having a camera pointed at her.
Daisy was a willing accomplice and performed every part of the “stay” training process with telepathic accuracy even though they had barely touched on it during their regular lessons. Normally Daisy was a clumsy, charming doofus during class, tripping over her own paws and drooling stalactites while she waited for her treats. But in front of the camera she was demo-dog perfect, as if in cahoots with Wade to make Cora look good.
I can do this,Cora thought as she wrapped up the three-minute lesson.It’s not that bad!She finished and then knelt down next to Daisy and scratched behind her ears. Daisy remained in a perfect sit, as if posing for a stock photo of a well-trained dog.
“Okay ... cut!” Wade exclaimed.
Cora looked down at Daisy because she couldn’t bear to look at Wade. “I’m afraid to ask ... how was I?”
“You’re anatural! You did what you were supposed to do—you talked through the camera like you were talking to me. You didn’t put on an act and you didn’t try to change your personality. Granted, there is a performance element to running a show, but they can teach you that stuff.”
“Really? Anatural? I find that sort of hard to believe.” Was Wade just trying to make her feel good?
“I’m being honest—I think you should go for it. I wouldn’t steer you wrong, Cora.”
Cora made a noncommittal noise and stared at Daisy, who was rolling maniacally on the carpet and making huffing sounds, back to her typical goofball personality. Cora shook her head. If a dog could summon the skills to act on camera, than surely she could, too.
Cora’s stomach twisted as she inched closer to a decision.
THIRTEEN
Cora checked her phone as she walked out of Wade and Rachel’s house, imagining what the real audition might be like. There was a group text from Vanessa to Cora and Winnie that said only “Uh-oh” with a link below the message. Cora clicked it open and saw a video still of a smiling Boris Ershovich.
Do I really want to watch this now?She didn’t need more stress but she pushed play anyway. A middle-aged woman appeared on the screen.
“I’m Cheryl Baum forWashington Post Livehere with Boris Ershovich, who is bringing his popular ‘Doggie Dictator’ show to the National Theater next week. Boris, thank you for talking with me today.”
“It is mypleasure,” Ershovich responded in his thick Russian accent with his signature magnetism. Cora couldn’t deny his good looks. In his mid-forties with a boyish face, clear pale skin, wide-set eyes, and a disarming smile, he had closely cropped brown hair with a racing stripe of gray above his left temple that made him look like a cartoon villain.
“Let’s start off with the controversy surrounding your show. You have no shortage of detractors, including trainers and veterinarians, who don’t approve of the way you work. How do you respond to that?”
Ershovich laughed. “Well, I say that they’re jealous! Look, Cheryl, my methods work. I fix broken dogs, simple as that. My success rate speaks for itself.”
“Some of the criticism is fairly intense. There’s a website called ChienParfait.com—have you heard of it?”
Cora went numb and paused the clip. This reporter, Cheryl Baum, was her mysterious blog crawler, and she was outing Cora to Boris Ershovich! Her heart pounded, and she felt light-headed. Was this real life? She took a breath and pushed play again, afraid to hear what came next.
“Oh, Cheryl, I don’t have time to play on the Internet. I’m afixer, not a surfer.” His tone was flirtatious.
The interviewer smiled. “Well, this website is by a local trainer here in DC—an anonymous trainer—and he or she levels some pretty heavy accusations against you, saying that the way you train is inhumane and that you should be kicked off the air. The title of a recent post about you is in French for some reason and translates to, ‘Burn in Hell, Boris Ershovich.’ I’d say that’s someone with a very serious grudge.”
“I’d say that’s someone who is abully. That is a ... a ... what do you call them? A gnome?”
“Troll,” the interviewer corrected him.
“Yes, a troll! A common schoolyard bully who hides behind a computer screen.”
Cora was nearly hyperventilating.Shewas the bully? Boris Ershovich, whose name almost had the wordshovein the middle of it, was callinghera bully? And why didn’t the reporter mention the most important aspect of her blog: her scientific takedown of his methodologies? She was sensationalizing based on a few questionable post titles.
“Let’s switch gears. So what can your fans expect to see at your show this weekend?”
“Oh, Cheryl, we have some wonderful stories to tell. Broken dogs get fixed, owners are so happy with me, and it all happens before a live audience. It’s going to be an amazing night. The show is sold out, Cheryl, but I’m going to live stream the first fifteen minutes for my fans.”
“That’s wonderful! You have quite a loyal following. Boris, is there anything you want to say to the dog owners of DC before we finish up? Any words of advice?”
He looked straight into the camera with a serious expression, a master showman. “I always have advice, because you people always make mistakes. Remember, you are the boss of the dog, no matter what. You mustdemandobedience. And finally, don’t pet your dogs so much. It makes them spoiled and lazy.”
The camera cut back to the reporter. “Boris Ershovich will be performing his sold-out dog training show at the National Theater next Friday. Thank you so much for joining me onWashington Post Live!” The clip ended with a shot of Ershovich’s punchable face.
