The Scottie Barked At Midnight by Kaitlyn Dunnett

Ready to rehearse?”
    Elise sidled up to the MC as he reached for a bear claw. Whatever she whispered into his ear made his hand clench on the pastry. The smile Liss had begun to think was permanently affixed on his face wavered and, for a split second, completely disappeared.
    â€œElise is lobbying to get her own show.” The comment came from Mo Heedles, the only one of the remaining contestants Liss hadn’t yet met. She had circled the table and now stood beside her. Like Elise, she was not very tall and had red hair, but there the similarities ended. No one would ever call Mo voluptuous. She was a ginger-haired elf of a woman, probably somewhere in her late twenties.
    â€œStripping for fun and profit?” Liss doctored her coffee and took a swallow to the sound of Mo’s chuckle. The magician had been right. Why did hotels always seem to make their coffee so strong and bitter? She added another packet of sweetener.
    â€œBe careful Elise doesn’t hear you call her a stripper,” the other woman warned her as they started to walk toward Area Three together. “We must all use the politically correct term exotic dancer. As for the show she wants, it’s to be a competition something like this one, only with poles.”
    â€œWhat’s next? Mud wrestling?”
    Mo’s answer was a thunderous sneeze. She managed to turn her head aside and get her arm up in time to protect both Liss and her food, but from the look of her scrunched-up face, more explosions were imminent. “Sorry,” she got out before the second one hit.
    Turning back to the buffet tables, Liss abandoned her plate and cup and grabbed up a handful of napkins.
    â€œThanks.” Mo sneezed again. “You must have dog hairs on your clothing. I’m allergic.” The fourth sneeze was even more violent than the first three.
    â€œI’m so sorry.” Liss backed up, retrieved her food, and kept several feet of space between them.
    â€œNot your fault.” Mo fumbled in the sleeve of her sweater to pull out a man’s white handkerchief. “Happens all the time.” She dabbed at her nose. “I don’t usually sneeze so much. I just get really stuffed up.”
    Willetta hovered nearby, finishing off a croissant. Liss expected the singer to offer Mo one of her honey-lemon cough drops, but if the thought occurred to her, she didn’t have time to act on it. Mo took off, eyes streaming, heading for her allotted rehearsal space. It was located as far away from Area Three as it was possible to get and still be in the ballroom. Someone on the production staff, Liss thought, deserved a gold star.
    In the suite, Liss had run through the routine Deidre had devised for this week’s show a half dozen times. She’d committed both the steps and the hand signals to memory. The dogs had cooperated beautifully. Rehearsing in the ballroom was a different story. Not only was it more open, it was noisy and full of distractions. Most disconcerting of all, Liss could swear she felt unfriendly eyes boring into her as she opened the two carriers and gave each Scottie an affectionate cuddle.
    In her previous career, Liss had been part of a troupe of dancers. Even when she’d had a solo bit, she’d been surrounded by the rest of the company. She wasn’t sure she liked being the center of attention. The “live” performance was sure to be even worse. When she and the dogs danced before the cameras, she’d be wearing a skimpy costume. She hadn’t tried it on yet, hadn’t even seen it, but she had gotten a phone call just before she left the suite for the ballroom. She was to report for a fitting after the lunch break.
    Suck it up, she told herself. You’re a pro. Makeup would probably hide the ugly scar left by her knee-replacement surgery.
    According to the schedule, dress rehearsal was twenty-four hours away. The show would be recorded a few hours later, at two