Lost, Found, and Forever

by Victoria Schade

  “Well, I’m half of the one,” Justine replied. She pointed at Spencer. “He’s doing all of the work.”

  “I was pretty surprised when I found out they cast a nobody for such an important part. I have another dog that would’ve been perfect to play Ford, but for some reason they went with you.” His smile looked more like baring his fangs.

  “Oh, no way. Well, at least Gunner is here now.” She looked down at the dog. “You’re having fun, right, bud?”

  Gunner finally wagged his tail and Justine took it as a green light. She put Spencer in a stay and knelt a few feet away from Gunner to invite him to interact with her if he was interested.

  “Don’t touch.” Adam said it like she was a toddler by a hot stove. Justine backed away. “There’s lesson number one for you; when a working dog is working, let him work.”

  “I’m sorry, I thought since we’re on a break I could interact with him. Rookie mistake.”

  Justine envisioned Spencer accepting petting from everyone who passed by him, lolling on his back like he was surrounded by a pack of personal massage therapists.

  “All of my animals understand that when we’re on set they’re always under my control and command.”

  She scanned the room trying to find Malcolm. When she finally spotted him, she made a split-second grimace to beg for an intervention. He nodded and headed over to them.

  “Nice work out there, Adam,” Malcolm said as he joined them. He glanced down at the dog. “Hey, Gunner.”

  “We aim to please.” Adam was slightly less confrontational with Malcolm. “Will you be chained to this soundstage for the entire shoot?”

  Malcolm shook his head. “They’ve done some stuff at a few local spots but nothing with animals, so I haven’t been at any of them. We have our first location shoot coming up, in Maryland.”

  Adam laughed and bared his fangs at Justine again. “Oh, that’ll be interesting. You’re going to have fun. What sort of action?”

  “Water,” Justine and Malcolm answered in unison.

  “At night,” Malcolm added.

  Adam threw his head back and laughed harder than Justine thought was necessary. “Oh, good luck with that. Here’s lesson number two for you,” he said, focusing on her. “Expect everything your dog knows to go to hell when you’re on location. Trust me, I’ve been doing this for a billion years. Gunner had the audacity to run away from me during a location shoot. Something spooked him. Delayed us for an hour; we had the whole crew looking for him.”

  The crew started reassembling just in time for Justine to make a getaway.

  “Um, okay. Thanks for the tips.” She tried to hide her deer-in-headlights expression as she backed away from Adam and his robotic dog.

  “Later,” Malcolm said, giving Adam a little salute. He caught up to Justine and draped his arm around her shoulder. “Stop stressing. Adam is just pissed you got the role and he didn’t. Don’t let him freak you out. You’ve done the work with Spencer, so everything will be fine. And if you’re worried about the location shoot, bring an assistant.”

  As if she had one.

  Cue epic internal freak-out.

  chapter twenty-seven

  Shh,” Justine mouthed at Griffin. “The boom is right there.” She pointed above their heads to a microphone on a long pole being held up in the air by a guy wearing headphones.

  Griffin cringed and mouthed sorry back at her. He shifted his stance and nearly stepped on Spencer’s paw.

  It was their first time seeing each other since their kiss, and Justine didn’t want it to feel awkward for either of them. She figured meeting in public surrounded by a million distractions, including Griffin’s childhood hero, would smooth over any remaining weirdness.

  Or so she thought, until she saw him striding to the warehouse door, hands stuffed in his pockets and his collar turned up against the chill, looking like a modern-day James Dean. When he spotted her, broke into a smile, and unleashed the dimples, she had to remind herself that they were back to being host and tenant and nothing more. Although once she figured out what scene they’d be watching together she realized that the hiatus and trajectory were about to get a PG-13 workout.

  The second Anderson walked on set Griffin swatted Justine and made a split-second “Are you seeing this?” face at her. Justine could tell he was trying to play it off and act cool, but he kept biting back smiles as he watched Anderson get ready for the scene. When Taylor joined Anderson on set she heard Griffin exhale in awe.

  “Holy shit,” he muttered under his breath, and despite feeling a surprising flicker of jealousy, Justine couldn’t blame his appreciation of the young actress.

  Taylor looked like a goddess. Her outfit reflected her character’s transformation from small-town girl to nightclub entertainer in a thin blush satin gown with black beading. Anderson was wearing a vest and a loosened tie, looking like his muscles were about to pop out of his dress shirt. After a quick conversation with the production’s intimacy coordinator and Ted’s call for “action,” they were toe to toe, staring into each other’s eyes like they were about to tear each other’s clothes off.

  “It fits,” Anderson said softly in his Izzy voice, running his finger along Taylor’s dress strap.

  “Uh-huh,” Taylor replied, breathless from his touch. She arched her back almost imperceptibly, then flicked her eyes down and raised them again to meet his gaze. “Thank you, Izzy,” she whispered in a shaky voice. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  Anderson was still caressing the top of the strap, running his fingers up and down it. He slid his thumb underneath so that his skin was on hers as he moved his fingers along the inch-wide bit of satin. Taylor let out a tiny openmouthed gasp when his thumb briefly dipped beneath the bodice of her dress at the side of her breast. Anderson met her gaze as if daring her to stop him. He continued to slide his fingers up the strap to her shoulder, then let his thumb trail down her skin slowly until it disappeared beneath the satin and grazed her nipple. Taylor trembled and took a step closer to him, her mouth moving toward his, one aching centimeter at a time.

  Justine suppressed her own tiny shudder and peeked at Griffin, who was watching the action with wide eyes. They were stuck on the far edge of the set, standing almost shoulder to shoulder, and for a change she realized that the urge to strip off a layer of clothing wasn’t because of the heat from the tungsten lights. Griffin glanced at Justine and caught her watching him, and they both immediately jerked their eyes back to the love scene with guilty expressions. She took a half step away from Griffin and exhaled.

  Anderson and Taylor were still moving in slow motion on the set, all restraint and silent want. Justine couldn’t believe Taylor’s furious “I hate him” to her mother had been transformed into believable soft-core action. They moved closer, both panting with desire that had to be real, and as their lips were about to touch Justine found herself silently chanting, Do it! Do it!

  Finally, their mouths crashed into each other. “Annnd, cut,” Ted said softly the moment they connected, giving everyone in the room a massive case of blue balls.

  Anderson reared back from Taylor with a roar.

  “She stepped on my line!” he screamed at no one and everyone at the same time. “That girl has no idea what she’s doing!” His people ran to try to keep up with him as he stormed away from the set. It was impossible not to hear him ranting about “hiring fucking models” even as he moved out of sight.

  Taylor shot Anderson a look of pure hate over her shoulder and headed in the opposite direction with her team fluttering around her.

  Griffin was frozen in place at the edge of the set with his eyebrows knitted in confusion. He pointed to where Taylor and Anderson had just been making out. “Wait. What the hell did I just see? They don’t like each other? I mean, that wasn’t acting. That was real.”

  Justine shrugged. “Movie magic.”
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  Spencer pulled Justine a few steps to grab a piece of bagel that didn’t make it into the garbage can.

  “Anderson seems like kind of a dick,” Griffin whispered as they walked away from the set.

  “No comment. Let’s just say everyone is learning to roll with, uh, his mood swings.”

  “Does he have a lot of scenes with Spence?” He reached down and scratched Spencer under the chin, and the dog leaned into him in a trance.

  “He does, but he’s always really sweet to him. He saves his tantrums for his human costars,” she said, smiling down at Spencer.

  “I feel like my childhood hero is crumbling before my eyes. Captain Zaltan is a jerk in real life.”

  “Not always. Mostly when it comes to Taylor,” Justine replied. “Now that you’ve seen how the sausage is made you’ll never be the same again.” They passed by Taylor being fussed over by a half-dozen hair, makeup, and wardrobe people.

  “Hey, did you see me?” she called to Justine as she walked by with Griffin.

  Justine flashed a thumbs-up. “I did! You were incandescent! Absolutely perfect!” Justine had learned to amp up her adjectives when it came to Taylor’s work, although what she’d just seen actually was perfect. Her fighting with Anderson offscreen led to electricity onscreen. The hate-fuck vibe was working for them.

  Griffin slowed down to a crawl when he realized that he was just a few feet away from Taylor Volkov Rand, supermodel.

  He leaned closer to Justine and lowered his voice. “Holy shit, Taylor is right there. I could just walk right up to her and say hello. She’s a goddess.”

  “Okay, stalker,” Justine said playfully while hiding a furrow.

  “Is she nice? I mean, you can’t be that gorgeous and be nice nice, but is she better than Anderson?” Talking about Taylor made him as puppyish as Spencer.

  “Would it break your heart if I told you she was a bitch?”

  Griffin’s face fell.

  “I’m kidding, she’s great. At least one of your crushes is still sacred.”

  He looked insulted. “I don’t have a crush on Anderson.”

  “I think you do,” she teased. “Captain Zaltan and Griffin, away!” she sang, altering the words to the show’s theme song.

  “Please. I don’t stan a-holes.” They were at the doors and Griffin looked at his watch. “How much more do you have to shoot today?”

  “I’m done for the day. And since you were getting home early today, I packed this morning before I left your place, so everything is in my car and ready to go.”

  “Oh, okay.” He rocked on his heels. “Because I’m done for the day too. Obviously, since I’m here and not working.”

  Neither one said anything, and Spencer plopped into a down between them as if he knew he was going to be waiting for a while.

  “Heading to the store once you get back to Rexford?” he asked.

  Justine shook her head. “Nope, just home. My employee, Sienna, has the whole day covered.”

  “Ah. Gotcha.”

  The silence stretched on and Griffin knelt to pet Spencer’s belly.

  “I hope you had fun coming to the set,” Justine said.

  “I did!” he answered quickly. “I really did. Thanks for the tour. I was hoping to meet Anderson and shake his hand, but now I’m not so sure I want to.”

  “Sorry for ruining the magic.”

  “It’s not ruined. Nothing can change my feelings about Galaxy Force.” He sounded like a little boy.

  Justine watched various crew members rushing around the periphery of the building. The guy with rolls and rolls of colored tape hanging from a rope on his belt, the crowd of flannel-wearing, black-knit-capped men and women moving as a pack, the prop department intern holding a stack of vintage newspapers. She finally felt like she fit in with them.

  “Since I’m done for the day I’ll walk out with you,” Justine said. “Let me grab my stuff.”

  “Farmers’ market!” Griffin exclaimed suddenly.

  “What?”

  “It’s Thursday. There’s a farmers’ market a few blocks over from here. Let’s swing by.” He paused. “If you want to. I know you have a long drive ahead of you.”

  “I never say no to farm-fresh produce, and I’m sure Spence will be happy to put off the drive a little longer.”

  The farmers’ market was small, just a few dozen tables braving the chilly day, but they were giving it their best effort with a huge display of festive orange and yellow mums and early pumpkins at the entrance.

  Griffin was drawn to the table next to the giant wooden apple sign. “Give me apple everything,” he said, eyeing the stacks of McIntoshes and Winesaps. “Oh, look at the pies,” he practically moaned.

  Justine wrinkled her nose. “I’m not a fan of cooked fruit.”

  “Huh? Is that even a thing?” he asked. Spencer ran his nose along the edge of the table and sniffed. “Who doesn’t like pie? I sort of have a fixation with it. Apple pie in particular.”

  “Why?” Justine threw a few Ambrosia apples in a paper bag for the drive home.

  “You know how apple pie is supposed to be, like, representative of family? You eat pies on holidays, and everyone gets a warm, fuzzy feeling about them?”

  Justine nodded.

  “I never had that growing up. Never. My parents worked most of the ‘pie holidays’ because they got time and a half, so unless I was invited to a friend’s house, it was just another day in the McCabe house.” He went back to examining the options spread out on the table.

  “I’m sorry,” Justine said. Holidays with her mom were small but festive affairs, and sometimes they even made the trip to visit her aunt, uncle, and cousins in Nevada. “Where did they work?”

  He picked up a jug of apple cider. “My dad was a line worker at a consumer packaging company. They make boxes, so obviously he was always super busy during the holidays. My mom is a customer-service rep for a home security company. They both worked hard when I was young, but we still struggled.”

  Justine felt a flash of realization. The trajectory. Suddenly it made more sense.

  “I try to help my mom out when I can, but she’s too proud.” He shook his head. “I guess I got my work ethic from them.”

  Griffin finally settled on a traditional apple pie with a sprinkling of cinnamon sugar on top of the lattice, six Cortland apples, and a quart of apple cider.

  “I think I went a little overboard for just one person,” he said as they continued walking past stalls displaying jars of local honey, fresh breads, and piles of gourds.

  “Does everything you bought make you happy?” she asked.

  Griffin paused to consider the question. “It does. Really happy.”

  “Then you didn’t go overboard. Plus, it’s good to splurge every now and then.”

  He laughed. “I’d hardly call eighteen dollars a splurge. Dropping a grand on a new Shinola Runwell? Now, that’s a splurge.”

  Justine gasped. “You’ve spent a thousand dollars on a watch?”

  “Well . . . yeah. And sometimes more. Don’t tell me you never splurge on yourself.”

  “Not in a long time.” She waved at him. “Hello, small-business owner here, just trying to make ends meet.”

  “I respect that,” he replied. “But let’s say you could splurge on anything right now. What would you get? Not just from the farmers’ market, I’m talking anything.”

  “A thousand-dollar limit?”

  Griffin nodded.

  Justine peeked at an out-of-place table filled with antique toys and vintage lunch boxes. “That’s easy. A really expensive pair of running sneakers and a smartwatch so I could track my runs. I’m finally getting serious about my workouts again.”

  “That’s so . . . sensible,” Griffin said. “And you’d still have money left over.”

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nbsp; “The heart wants what it wants,” she said with a laugh. “I’d spend the rest on this guy.” She patted Spencer.

  “I don’t know, I was expecting jewelry or clothing. But now that I think about it, that doesn’t make sense for you.”

  “Exactly.” Justine did an inventory of what she was wearing. “Boots, jeans, T-shirt, hoodie.” She pulled her hair behind her ear and pointed to her lobe. “Conflict-free cubic zirconia studs I got for nine ninety-nine. Have you even looked at me lately?”

  They’d reached the end of the stalls near a cluster of picnic tables. It was too cold to sit outside, so the area was deserted.

  Griffin turned to her. “Yeah, I have looked at you. All the time.”

  Justine felt her heart constrict at the intensity on his face. The playfulness between them shifted, replaced by Griffin’s furrowed brow and an expression that looked like deliberation. She held her breath as she waited for his next move. Even Spencer seemed subdued by the change in the air, moving into a statue-like sit and watching them both carefully.

  “Why?” Justine fidgeted with the leash and fought off the urge to move closer to him.

  “It’s hard not to.”

  She exhaled slowly and met his gaze. Justine could almost feel the shift taking place between them.

  An older man dragging a garbage can drifted toward them and Spencer reacted by barking maniacally as he got closer. It was his DEFCON 5 bark, so piercing that it could shatter windows.

  “Let’s move over there,” Justine said over the noise, pointing back to the vendors. “He’s headed for the dumpster behind the tables.”

  Spencer’s reaction was typical, since he was convinced that when their neighbors in Rexford brought their garbage cans in they were actually rolling up Trojan horses filled with fireworks and thunderstorms. Justine knew the only way to get him to stop was to put some distance between them and the scary can-man, so she walked him farther away from the commotion.

  When the noise finally stopped, there was no hope of picking up the conversation again. In a few minutes they’d be back to talking about cooked fruit or artisanal bread.