Lost, Found, and Forever

by Victoria Schade

  “Arty shot it is,” she said, texting just the image.

  chapter seven

  Anderson Brooks leaned against the table in the conference room and crossed his arms, resting his fists behind his massive biceps so that they looked even bigger. Justine was shocked to realize that even the highest-paid action star in the world seemed to be insecure about the size of his muscles. She sneaked looks at him while he played with Spencer, trying to put her finger on his strange vibe. He’d started growing out his signature black buzz cut for his role on The Eighteenth, which made him look like an Anderson Brooks cosplayer who hadn’t quite nailed the costume.

  “I’m not saying I don’t love your dog, Justine,” Anderson said with gravitas.

  It still blew her mind that he was saying her name. She’d been beyond nervous at first, shaky and a little nauseous to be in the same room as the guy who always ended up in her “kill” category in games of celebrity eff, marry, kill.

  Spencer’s antics kept the focus on him, so until Anderson started talking to her, all Justine had to do was watch and smile as her dog charmed both Anderson and Ted Sherman. They had driven into the city a few hours early so that Spencer could recover from his predictable bout of car sickness, which was actually more like extreme car anxiety with drooling, vomit, and lingering depression. Justine worried that he still smelled like puke.

  She still couldn’t believe that she was four feet away from the actual, real-life Anderson Brooks, who was simultaneously bigger and smaller than she’d thought he’d be. Onscreen he looked to be about nine feet tall, but in real life he seemed average. The biggest part about him was his aura; he filled the entire room with a vibe Justine couldn’t quite describe. She tried to pinpoint what it was so that she could explain it to Ruth and Sienna, but the best she could come up with was charisma, which made him sound like a cheerleader.

  “I mean, I think Spencer is an incredible actor,” he continued.

  Justine nodded and looked down at Spencer, who was whipping his ball on a rope so hard that it hit him on the sides of his face repeatedly. Ted stepped out of the way to avoid getting smacked by it.

  “But this role calls for a bond between us that’s closer than lovers. And I’m not sure Spencer loves me.”

  Justine took a second to try to process what Anderson meant and realized that what was about to go down between them could mean the difference between getting the part and blowing it.

  “Is that so? What makes you say that?” It was the one lesson she remembered from debate class. Answer an unanswerable question with another question to buy time. Justine knew Spencer had nailed the chemistry test with Anderson, playing happily with him, posing for photos together, and showing off with some of his cute tricks. She was afraid to envision what the “lovers” part of the chemistry test might look like.

  “Let me tell you a story,” Anderson replied, settling against the table. “My granddaddy raised hounds down in South Carolina his whole life, and he taught me everything I know about dogs.” His cadence had changed, and he was looking at Justine with his patented Anderson Brooks Smolder™. Justine realized that he was putting on a show for her, like he was doing a late-night TV interview in front of a live studio audience. “One thing he told me, and I’ll never forget this, he took his little hand-rolled cigarette out of his mouth and said . . . ‘Andy boy, dogs tell their truths with their tongues. If a dog ain’t licked ya, that dog don’t like ya.’”

  Anderson mimed putting the cigarette back in his mouth, still in character.

  It took a few seconds before Justine realized what he meant.

  “Oh, so you think Spencer doesn’t like you because he hasn’t kissed you yet. Okay, I understand.” Her mind raced while she tried to figure out how to fix what had to be the weirdest request in dogdom. Spencer wasn’t a licker, but based on some bizarre family folklore Anderson Brooks clearly needed a lick or else he wasn’t going to allow Spencer to be cast in the show.

  She glanced over at Ted. He lifted the bill of his baseball cap and rubbed a hand over his bald head, his brows knitted. Justine assumed that no one was allowed to question Anderson, not even his boss.

  “Okay, let’s get some dog kisses going, then!” Justine said gamely. “Mr. Brooks, you’re a big guy, so could you get down on the ground? Do you mind?” She asked as delicately as she could, making sure to throw in some flattery.

  “Not at all!”

  He sat down on the ground cross-legged and looked like the world’s least flexible yogi, his jeans and T-shirt straining from the position. Spencer immediately dashed to him. There was no question that Spencer liked Anderson, just not in a way that was enough to win the role as Ford.

  So far.

  Justine ran to her bag of tricks and turned her back so they couldn’t see what she was doing. She squeezed a tiny dollop of canned cheese onto her fingertip and prayed that it was small enough that it wouldn’t register, then walked over to where Anderson and Spencer were sitting with her hands gently cupped behind her back.

  “Okay, Spencer! Are you ready to give some kisses? Are you ready?” She raised her voice and leaned down to hype up her dog until he was play-bowing and dancing in front of Anderson.

  “Mr. Brooks, do you mind if I touch you really quickly? It just helps Spencer know what’s allowed and what isn’t.” She was making it up as she went along and hoped she sounded convincing. “Just right here, by your ear.” She pointed to her own ear.

  “Of course! I’ve got no weird rules about that sort of stuff; come get up close and personal. Or should I say, pup close?” He chuckled.

  Justine approached him tentatively. Anderson Brooks looked like himself from a distance, but when she got close to him she realized that he looked a little manufactured. His hair had layers more precise than her own. His face looked poreless and slightly plastic, with just a few lines radiating from the corners of his eyes. When she saw the color demarcation at the edge of his chin she realized that he was wearing makeup, and a tiny part of her felt bad for him.

  “Okay, I’m just going to . . . touch . . . your ear . . .” She hid her trembling cheese-finger until her hand was out of his line of sight and then pressed her pinkie and ring fingers to the side of his cheek to distract him from the fact that she was smearing cheese on his earlobe with her pointer finger. “See Spencer? Right here. Give kisses!”

  It wasn’t a cue that she’d actually taught him, but he was hungry enough to go for any morsel of food presented to him. Spencer didn’t pause once he realized that Anderson was wearing a cheddar earring and went in for a PG-13 kiss, tilting his head back and forth and essentially consuming Anderson’s entire ear.

  “Ted, are you getting this?” Anderson giggled and put his beefy arm around Spencer as the dog continued to deep throat his ear. “Ted, take pictures! Ted! I knew I hadn’t lost my magic touch. This dog loves me!”

  Ted pulled his phone from his back pocket and snapped while Anderson posed with Spencer. The kisses continued down his cheek, and Justine realized that Spencer was licking Anderson’s makeup off.

  “Yay, Spence, such a good boy.” Justine wanted to call him away, but Anderson seemed to love making out with her dog.

  “Attaboy,” Anderson said, finally moving out of Spencer’s striking range and holding him back with chest scratches. “I guess you do like me. Isn’t that right, buddy boy? Whaddaya say?”

  Anderson’s voice had changed almost imperceptibly once again, and Justine recognized that he was using his character Izzy’s pet name for his dog.

  “How are we feeling, Anderson?” Ted asked.

  Anderson didn’t say anything, but instead leaned away and studied Spencer. The dog studied him right back, probably trying to decide if he wanted to go in for seconds on his ear.

  “I think this cake eater’s gonna keep the bull away from our wet goods.” Anderson’s voice went clipped and slightly
nasal again.

  Justine couldn’t understand exactly what he was saying, but based on Anderson’s expression she knew that she and Spencer were about to have the adventure of a lifetime.

  “And so it is,” Ted said, smiling at Justine. “Congratulations, we have our Ford. We need to iron out some important contractual details with you, and you’ll have to hit the ground running since we’re well into preproduction, but as far as we’re concerned, the role is his.”

  “Seriously? No way!” Justine squealed, which caused Spencer to run over and play bow in front of her. “Spence, you did it!”

  “I’d say it was a team effort,” Ted replied, smiling a genuine, non-aviatored smile at her.

  “And it all happened because I’ve got the magic touch with dogs,” Anderson added. “When he licked me? That was like he was branding me, like I’m his property. That’s what my granddaddy always said; a dog kiss is a contract. We’re bros now, Spencer.” He held his hand up the way Justine had showed him, and Spencer gave him a solid high five. “Welcome to the swole patrol, brother!”

  chapter eight

  The featherweight pale blue cashmere V-neck Justine had opted to wear to the meeting with Ted and Anderson was anything but featherweight in the hot fall sun. After the stress of the chemistry test she felt like she was trapped in a terrarium as she speed-walked Spencer to the park where they’d be meeting up with Griffin. Her leopard-print slides weren’t helping either; she was a toe clench away from kicking one off at an unsuspecting pedestrian.

  But she wanted to smile at every person she passed. Spencer had done it! It barely felt real. She hadn’t taken a single photo during the chemistry test so she wouldn’t seem like a fangirl, and as she raced to the park with Spencer she tried to commit the entire bizarre situation to memory so she could describe it to Ruth and Sienna. She could swear that some of Anderson’s cologne had rubbed off on her when he swooped her into a farewell hug, and she kept raising her forearm to her nose to see if she was imagining it.

  Justine glanced down at Spencer as they navigated the crowded sidewalks. Despite being a country dog, he wasn’t bothered by the bustle of the city. He walked close enough to Justine that his shoulder occasionally grazed her calf, just like he did in Rexford. But Spencer barely glanced at a homeless guy staggering toward them and didn’t react when a French bulldog in a puffy camo vest barked a hello. Then she remembered that Spencer had clocked two years of city-street walking before he’d found his way to Justine. It killed her to admit that he had more history in Brooklyn than in Rexford.

  Even though Rexford was just a two-hour drive from New York, Justine didn’t go in as often as she’d have liked. She used to visit her friends from college who had settled in the city, but nearly all of them had downshifted to the suburbs when their lives started to include diapers.

  Justine couldn’t imagine ever getting tired of city life. She loved everything about New York. When she visited she felt . . . possibility. Every food she could ever want within a five-block radius, eyebrow threading at ten o’clock on a Friday night, pole classes next door to meditation retreats, and people who were always willing to lend a helping hand despite the way movies depicted them. The lights, the pace, the vibe . . . Justine couldn’t wait to pretend to be native a few days a week while they shot The Eighteenth.

  They walked in step and Justine let her mind wander, going over the details of the meeting with Ted and Anderson and laughing to herself about putting cheese on the world’s biggest action hero’s ear. When they got to a corner she peered at the street sign to make sure they were still headed in the right direction. Suddenly the sidewalk was less crowded with people and more with overflowing bags of garbage and stacks of flattened cardboard boxes. They dodged puddles of murky liquid in the shadows of run-down buildings. Justine picked up her pace and Spencer went from a trot to a canter beside her.

  The prickle on the back of her neck and cold feeling of dread shot through her body before the sound even reached her ears. Footsteps, running at a distance but getting closer fast. Justine’s heart sprang into action, pumping hard enough to convince her that it was happening again, and she needed to be ready-ready-ready for what was about to go down. She clenched her toes in her ridiculous shoes but was ready to kick them off and run through the disgusting puddles if necessary.

  Spencer pressed closer to her as if he could feel her fear swirling around her. Justine held on to his leash tightly, so that her fingernails dug into her sweaty palm. No matter what happened, Spencer would be there beside her, strong, devoted, and ready to unsheathe his teeth on anything that needed to be kept away.

  The pounding footsteps were gaining on them, and it sounded like a herd. Justine kept walking in a way that she hoped conveyed a “don’t fuck with me” vibe, even though her guts had turned to Jell-O. She didn’t want to look over her shoulder to see what exactly was about to come up behind them. Spencer did it for her, and she watched his body language closely as they jog-walked to gauge his reaction to the terror that was now only a few feet away.

  His softly wagging tail made her heart slow half a measure, and she sidestepped at the exact moment a trio of high-tops, sweatshirts, and flailing arms sped past her.

  “Kids,” she said in a shaky voice to Spencer. “They’re just kids.”

  She held her hand to her heart and bowed her head, willing her heart rate to slow to a normal pace. Spencer bumped his nose against her other hand, and she knelt to acknowledge him.

  “We’re okay, right?”

  He shifted his weight and bumped his shoulder into her in agreement. Spencer’s tail spun in its typical circular wag, and his wide smiley pant got her to half grin back at him.

  Justine ran her hand down his wiry fur. “I’m being stupid, aren’t I?”

  It took her fight-or-flight reptile brain a few blocks to finally agree.

  When they were surrounded by people again and close to the park where she was supposed to meet Griffin, Justine pulled Spencer into an alcove and reached into her bag for a mirror, expecting to see a pale face and sheen of sweat. Instead, the face that greeted her in her Scottie dog compact was the exact same one she’d seen in the bathroom mirror that morning. Pink cheeks, clear blue-green eyes, and the product-resistant cowlick behind her ear. She clicked the compact shut, then knelt to have another chat with Spencer.

  “You’re looking good, my friend. The new stripy collar is badass; you’re still soft from your bath.” She ran her hand down the side of his body. “Hey, Spence? I need to tell you something. I’m sorry I’m springing it on you now. I didn’t want to give you too much notice, since you don’t have a concept of time and if I had said we’re doing this major thing ‘tomorrow’ you might have thought I meant ‘now.’”

  Spencer shifted from one foot to another and tilted his head at Justine as if he were digesting what she was saying.

  “We’re going to see your old . . . dude. The guy you used to live with before we met. Do you remember him? Griffin?”

  She probably imagined it, but it seemed like Spencer alerted at the mention of Griffin’s name.

  “I know it’s going to be weird, seeing him again. Maybe he’ll explain why he let you go. Don’t be mad at him, okay? What happened wasn’t your fault. But no matter what he says, I want you to know that you’re still my dog. You’re still coming home with me.”

  Spencer wagged his tail and pressed closer to Justine as if he understood.

  “You ready?”

  He wagged again, and they set off for the park.

  chapter nine

  Griffin said he’d be waiting near the Kensington Dog Run in Prospect Park with a large, bright green snake toy—Spencer’s favorite back when he was Leo—and that he’d be hard to miss. Justine wanted to spy on him for a few minutes before she brought Spencer over to him, so she kept her distance from the entrance, lurking in the shadows of the public restrooms, l
ooking for anyone with a toy that resembled a snake. She knew firsthand how much variety there was in dog toys. How large was “large”? Did he mean a giant caterpillar, not snake? Would she be able to recognize the manufacturer? And was it a snakelike toy, or an actual representation of a snake, with eyes and flicky tongue?

  The park was busy, beautiful, and surprisingly large. The trees were just beginning to show tinges of red and yellow, which felt at odds with the sweltering day. The wide, curved pedestrian walkway that cut through the green spaces was crowded with all walks of life, human and canine, so Justine bided her time by watching the mini dramas playing out around her. She realized that in a few minutes she’d be adding her own to the mix and felt her nerves ratchet up.

  “I like your doggy.”

  Justine turned to see a little blond boy about five years old with his mom standing a few feet away from her. Spencer immediately started wagging his whole hind end.

  “Your dog is so cute! Do you mind if my son . . .” The mom trailed off and pointed to Spencer.

  “He loves kids.” Justine squatted down so that she was even with the boy. “His name is Spencer and he likes to do tricks. Spence, wave!”

  He tilted his head and pawed at the air. The little boy squealed with laughter, making Spencer wag harder.

  “He’s going to sniff you to get to know you first, so just stand still for a second,” Justine gently instructed. The little boy didn’t move as Spencer checked out his sneakers, then wagged his tail again. Spencer moved closer, then bowed his head and waited while the boy clumsily patted him.

  Justine couldn’t resist sharing her big news. “He just got cast on a new series,” she said to the mom. “With Anderson Brooks. We met him.”

  “Oh my gosh!” The woman leaned down to her son. “Axel, did you hear that? This doggy is famous!”