Her heart pounded when she got closer to the sprawling stone farmhouse and saw the low-slung black Mercedes with New York plates. “You ready for this?” she asked Spencer.
Justine wasn’t. Everything felt itchy. She was wearing slim-fitting jeans and a lilac T-shirt with a wide boatneck that kept slipping off her shoulder, forcing her to constantly yank it back up. Her hair was annoying her too, settling on the back of her neck and making her feel sweaty even though she wasn’t. Her hair had finally grown out to the point where she could make a sad little spiky ponytail, but she still didn’t feel ready to pull out her elastic bands quite yet. Whenever she gathered her hair at the nape of her neck, she was brought back to the reason she’d cut off her hair in the first place.
The script for The Eighteenth was more complex than she’d realized when she said yes to Ted Sherman. Spencer could do cute better than most dogs, but much of what they needed on the show was so subtle that they didn’t even feel like tricks. They didn’t want Ford the speakeasy dog to sit pretty or wave; he needed to do things that normal dogs do in everyday life, like look around, stand still, or walk from point A to point B. And Spencer wasn’t known for subtlety.
When they set up the trial at Monty’s farm, Ted suggested that they try “riffing” on the script rather than focusing on specific behaviors, which made practicing for it even tougher. But working with Spencer kept Justine from thinking about Griffin McCabe and the fact that her beloved dog was actually a lost dog named Leo. Every time her phone buzzed she worried that it was Griffin.
“We’re back here,” she heard Monty’s voice call out. “With the chickens!”
Justine turned and saw that Monty and Ted were behind her at the chicken coop. Her heart fell when she saw that the chickens were milling around outside their cage.
“Shit. Free-range.” She quickly pulled a thin leather leash out of her back pocket and made a silent plea to Saint Francis as she clipped it on Spencer. “Please don’t chase them, okay? Don’t blow it before we even get started.”
Justine felt a stage-mom level of stress. Part of her wanted to try to enjoy the process, but she knew exactly how much was riding on Spencer’s performance.
She waved and led Spencer down the hill to meet them. It didn’t feel right to call it a chicken coop since the building that housed Monty’s array of fancy-breed chickens looked like a tiny stone replica of her main house, complete with shuttered windows. As always, Monty was perfectly staged for the moment with her silver hair knotted in a red bandanna on top of her head, wearing worn chambray and denim, with a wildflower-filled basket at her side. Based on Taylor’s Instagram feed, Justine knew that she was in California taping an appearance on a late-night show, so she had one less observer to worry about.
Ted sized up Justine and Spencer as they approached, once again unreadable in his baseball cap and aviators.
“Hello there. We’re going to have some fun today,” he said, sounding like a dentist comforting his root-canal patient.
Monty dropped to her knees and Spencer greeted the keeper of bacon and other meaty delights with appropriate gusto. Justine breathed a sigh of relief when an oversized black rooster strutted close to them and Spencer ignored it.
“We’re ready and excited. Thanks so much for the opportunity.” She gripped the leash tighter when she noticed Spencer zeroing in on a hen running toward the coop. A slow rooster stroll was one thing; a full-tilt chicken run was another. Spencer peered around Monty with the locked-on focus that usually meant he was weighing his options: run for fun, or stay for the pats. His recall was impeccable if he wasn’t chasing after something furred or feathered. For a second Justine imagined him taking off after the chicken and not stopping when it dashed into the woods bordering the property.
Maybe that was how Griffin McCabe lost him?
“Let me tell you a little bit about the show before we start,” Ted said in his quiet, self-assured manner. After reading the script, Justine knew exactly what the show was about, but she wasn’t about to correct him. “The title refers to the Eighteenth Amendment, which established prohibition. The show focuses on a New York speakeasy run by Anderson’s character, Izzy Malone. Taylor plays his girlfriend, chorus girl Ginger Costello.”
She stifled her gag reflex. Anderson was closer to Monty’s age than Taylor’s. She sneaked a look at Monty, but she didn’t seem fazed by the casting choice.
“Izzy’s dog, Ford, is the mascot and lookout for the speakeasy. As written, Ford is in every episode in the first season. If we get picked up it’s a big role.”
“Wow,” Justine said quietly, half listening to the conversation and half stressing about Spencer’s chicken obsession. The clucking and scratching weren’t helping with his focus.
“I’d like to get started now, if you’re ready.” Ted made it clear that there was no other answer than yes.
Justine moved away from the coop as casually as she could, trying to make it seem like she was motivating her dog instead of preventing a literal game of chicken. “Of course, let’s try it.”
Monty sat down on the ground and a black-and-white chicken with a bouffant and sliced-almond feathers settled into her lap.
“Luella wants to watch too,” Monty said, stroking the bird.
Justine pulled Spencer a few steps closer to her and gave him a quick shoulder massage. He was so focused on Monty’s clucking lovefest that he barely even acknowledged her.
“I’m going to play Anderson’s part,” Ted said. “I want to see how Spencer interacts with someone he doesn’t know. We’re going to do this cold, with no contact between us before we try.”
It was the absolute worst way to start the audition.
“I’m going to walk toward that tree over there.” Ted pointed to a towering oak far away from the chicken coop and Justine whooped internally. “I’ll start walking alone; then I want you to send Spencer to walk with me when I signal with my left hand, and when I stop walking, I want him to sit next to me.”
Justine knew exactly which scene they were trialing. It was the last shot of the first episode, where Anderson/Izzy is walking in the alley behind the speakeasy after having a fight with Taylor/Ginger. It was tough enough in regular circumstances, but add in the chickens and she worried that Spencer was about to nose-dive. Justine grabbed a handful of the fabric draped on her arm and yanked it up to her shoulder.
“Ready?” Ted asked.
Justine nodded and gave Spencer a hopeful pat. He finally looked up at her, and they exchanged the knowing glance that meant they both understood that they were getting ready to do something major together.
Ted walked away from them with his hands clasped behind his back. After a few feet he raised his left hand briefly.
“Spence, side!” She pointed to Ted and gave Spencer an encouraging nod, her heart ricocheting in her chest as she envisioned all the ways things could go wrong the second she unclipped his leash.
Spencer paused, looked at Justine for a millisecond, then locked his focus on Ted. He took off running and caught up to Ted, falling in step beside him. They walked along together, Spencer peering up at Ted every few steps, his tail low and wagging slowly.
“Oh my God, he’s acting,” Monty said with awe in her voice. “He looks like he’s worried about Ted!”
It was true. Spencer was connected to Ted with an invisible tether, like the two of them were weathering an emotional storm together. Justine got so caught up in her dog’s skills that she barely noticed when Ted came to a stop.
“Spence, sit!”
He tripped and looked over his shoulder at Justine. She nodded exuberantly and did her version of a hand signal for sit, holding her hand above her head with her fingers splayed then clenching them into a fist.
He moved into position and gazed adoringly up at Ted.
“He nailed it,” Monty whispered. “They have to cast him.”<
br />
It was true. Spencer had been almost flawless, despite not having a practice run and being surrounded by feathery distractions. Justine wanted to puff up her chest and cluck too.
Ted walked back to them with Spencer dashing playfully around his feet, a smile on his normally unreadable face.
“I like this guy,” he said. “That’s not exactly how it would go on set, but it still gave me a feel for his abilities. I’d also like to do some smaller reaction shots. Some facial expressions, maybe?”
“Of course, Spence is up for anything.”
Ted slipped his phone out of his breast pocket and filmed Spencer as he asked for a variety of poses and behaviors. Justine felt the tension in her shoulders ease as Spencer aced every request from the head tilt to the sad expression to the startle take.
“Clearly this dog is a gifted actor. Are we finished here, Ted?” Monty asked, bossy as ever.
Justine fiddled with the leash and clasp and watched as Spencer eyed a shiny black rooster that was pecking near where they were working.
“We are,” Ted replied. “Justine, can you bring Spencer into the city next week? I want you both to meet Anderson. A quick chemistry test and we should have our answer.”
She swallowed hard and did a few quick calculations about how early they’d have to arrive in the city before the meeting to cope with Spencer’s car sickness. She couldn’t have Spencer puking on the biggest action star in the world.
“We can be there; just name the date.”
chapter six
Well?” Sienna stopped stocking the treat shelf the second Justine and Spencer walked into the store after the audition. “I’ve been dying over here.”
“Guess who’s got a beard, four paws, and a hot date with Anderson Brooks in New York?” Justine paused, then pointed at Spencer. “This guy!”
“Yay!” Sienna clapped and jumped up and down. “I want all the gossip. I knew you could do it!”
“It’s not a sure thing yet; he still has to charm Anderson. And I didn’t do a thing—Spencer did all the work,” she answered as she let him off leash. Spencer dashed to Sienna for congratulatory pats.
She leaned into Spencer’s kisses. “Ah, you’re a self-taught genius, Spence. Is that how it works, mister? Lots of book learning?”
Justine laughed. “Fine, it was a team effort. Anyway, I’m hoping you can cover the store next Friday while I go into the city. Is that possible?”
“Of course, happy to.” Sienna focused on petting Spencer, who had collapsed onto his back in an effort to direct all of her attention to his belly. “And I bet you’ll be happy to get out of here for the day.”
Justine stopped in her tracks. “What do you mean by that?”
“Nothing, never mind.” She shrugged. “Anyway! Details, please. Start from the beginning: were you nervous?”
“Yeah, I was pretty shaky at first. And Monty’s chickens were—” Justine’s phone interrupted her. When she looked down at the screen she froze.
She’d added his number under the name “Jackass McAhole” and used the poop emoji as his photo after she’d hung up on Griffin McCabe a few days prior. It made her giggle like a third grader at the time, but seeing it flash up on her screen made her realize that there was nothing funny about it.
“No!” Justine exclaimed with her eyes wide.
“Who is it?”
“Shit-shit-shit!” She jogged in place. “It’s that guy who lost Spencer!”
“Answer it. See what he wants.”
Justine stared at her phone and didn’t say anything.
“Come on, answer it and get it over with,” Sienna said in a way that made it sound like it was no big deal.
She took a breath and answered. “This is Justine.”
“Hi, Justine, this is Griffin McCabe.”
“Yes?”
“I’m Leo’s person,” he continued.
Justine couldn’t think of a thing to say back to him.
“Are you there? Hello?”
“Yeah, I’m here, hi.” Justine galloped to the stockroom and slammed the door behind her.
“Hi. You said you were going to call me back.”
The kind voice she remembered was gone, replaced by a tone that sounded more like he’d been waiting on hold with the cable company for too long.
“Did I?” she fumbled. “Sorry, I’ve been super busy. And to be honest I didn’t think there was anything more to say.” She paced in the narrow space between the baker’s racks filled with dog food bags.
“I think there’s plenty more.” He exhaled quietly. “But before we get into that, I was hoping we could reset and start over. I got a little overexcited the last time we talked. I hope you understand why.”
His voice got softer, which made Justine’s heart rate slow a few BPM. Maybe it wasn’t going to be a war?
“I do. You were happy that he’s okay. I get it.” She wished Spencer had followed her into the stockroom so she could use him as an emotional support dog during the call.
“Thank you. One of the reasons I’m calling is because I feel like you need to know how Leo got lost.”
The way he phrased it took any responsibility out of what had happened, and it irked her like those “I’m sorry if you were hurt” faux apologies.
“Okay.” She stretched the word out for several seconds.
“And I’d like to see Leo, too,” he continued. “I was hoping that we could set up a time for me to drive to Rexford to meet you guys somewhere. I don’t have to come to your place or anything, since you don’t know me. Stranger danger and all that. I’m out of town right now, but I’ll be back in the city next week, so maybe we can do it then?”
She stopped pacing. “Really.”
“Yes, really. I just need to see him. Put my hands on him. Make sure he’s okay.”
Justine didn’t respond. How dare he imply that her dog might not be okay? She glared at the wall and let the silence on the line stretch on. The sound of the Grateful Dead’s “Sugar Magnolia” drifted under the door.
Griffin heaved a sigh. “I was worried it would come to this. Okay, Justine, I’ll beg you if that’s what you want. Can I please see my dog?” It almost sounded like his voice broke for an instant. “I just wanna see my dog.”
“My dog,” she replied with an unmistakable edge in her voice.
“Listen, I don’t want to fight with you. I’m sure you’re a wonderful person. But the fact is that for the past year I’ve pictured Leo dead on the side of the road, or stuck in a test lab with tubes in his stomach, or losing his mind in a kennel in some backwoods shelter. Leo was my baby, Justine, and not knowing what happened to him almost broke me. I just need to see him so I can get those nightmares out of my head.” His voice went soft. “Does that make sense to you?”
She could envision every scenario as he listed them, and the visuals hit too close to home. There was no way she could deny him at least a quick visit. She cleared her throat to collect herself before she responded.
“Of course, yes. I get it. You can see him. But you don’t have to drive to Rexford. I have to be in the city for a . . . thing with Spencer on Friday. We can meet you somewhere after if you want.” She wasn’t ready to tell him that the dog he lost was a star in the making.
“No, you shouldn’t have to go out of your way,” he protested. “I don’t want to put you guys out.”
“I don’t mind at all.” She did mind the idea of him showing up in Rexford and finding out where her store was and where she lived. She wasn’t about to open herself up to a potential dog-stalker or, worse yet, dog-napper.
“It would be easier on me if I didn’t have to drive, to be honest. I’m pretty road weary.”
Justine filed the biographical tidbit away and squeezed a Chuckit ball as a stress reliever.
“I feel like I shoul
dn’t ask you for any more favors, but would you please text me a photo of him?” Griffin asked.
“Yeah, sure.” Justine mentally scrolled through the thousands of pictures of Spencer to try to settle on one that showed him living his best life. “I’ll text you my schedule, too, and we can figure out when and where to meet. I won’t have much time, though,” she added quickly.
“That’s fine, I’ll take what I can get.”
“Okay. I’ll text you,” she repeated.
“Justine,” Griffin said, his kind voice back. “Thank you. I mean it.”
“You’re welcome.” She stopped fidgeting and forced herself to say something nice. “I bet he’s going to be really happy to see you.”
They hung up and Justine took a few minutes to scroll through her photos. Her finger hovered over an image of her with Spencer on the couch, both wearing huge grins, taken by her ex-boyfriend, Nick. Then she remembered the time frame for the photo and kept scrolling. She finally settled on an arty cropped photo of Spencer sitting in profile in the grass with his head cradled in her palm, her fingers gently curling up from under his chin. She was just out of frame, and the way Spencer was gazing up at her made it look like he was completely and utterly in love with her. The photo showed off her pretty hand but gave no indication of what she looked like.
Staying incognito was her first power move. She didn’t want Griffin using her photo to do recon on her and figure out how to stalk his former dog in Rexford. The less he knew, the better. She had a vague idea of what he looked like thanks to his slightly blurry black-and-white LinkedIn photo, but beyond that single image, Griffin seemed nonexistent on social media. As tempting as it was to text him one of the professional photos the local paper had taken of her and Spencer to help promote Small Business Saturday, in which the two of them both happened to look adorable, he hadn’t asked for a photo of her. Griffin wanted to see Spencer.
Lost, Found, and Forever Page 4