Shoot the Dog

by Brad Smith

  “Hold your hand flat,” he said, demonstrating. “Let them take it from you.”

  The girl did as she was told and the two horses gobbled the carrots. The little girl smiled, then looked at Virgil. “What’s your name?” she asked.

  “Virgil. What’s yours?”

  “Georgia Lee Thompson.”

  “And you’re in the movie?”

  “Yes, I’m Sara,” the little girl said. She suddenly stepped back and flung her forearm across her face. “Oh mother, woe is me to be trapped in this desolate place!”

  The girl stopped emoting as quickly as she’d begun and broke into laughter. Virgil smiled.

  “Here he comes,” he heard Tommy say, and he looked up to see a man approaching, dressed in high boots and homespun pants and a shapeless shirt of some rough material. In his hand he carried a brown slouch hat. Tommy introduced him to Virgil as Daniel Vardon.

  “Daniel plays the husband,” Tommy said.

  The man was vaguely familiar to Virgil; no doubt he’d seen him in some movie or on TV. He was dark-haired and had deep-set dark eyes that gave him the appearance of being a thinker, whether he was or not. He was slender and short—maybe five foot six or so—and quite serious looking.

  He was also terrified of the horses.

  He didn’t want to touch them, he didn’t want to stand in front of them, he wouldn’t stand behind them, and he definitely did not want to drive the buckboard with them pulling it. Apparently this aversion hadn’t come up during the casting process and the director Robb was not particularly happy with the turn of events. He walked around in circles, muttering to himself, and then got on his cell phone and wandered off. Tommy Alamosa spoke to Daniel for several moments, then asked someone to get Levi Brown from wherever he was. While they waited, Tommy walked over to Virgil.

  “How do you like it so far?” he asked.

  Virgil shrugged. “Could be worse. Could be raining.”

  “Yeah, it could,” Tommy said. “I have a proposition for you, Virgil.”

  • • •

  Sam arrived on set shortly before noon. Driving up from Kingston, she’d been on the phone with Robb almost constantly. Apparently things weren’t going all that smoothly and Robb, in general, didn’t do well when things were going sideways. He did even worse when things were going sideways and Sam wasn’t around. She kept him on the line for half an hour, reassuring him. Finally, after seeing a sign that announced Fairfield Village as being just ten miles away, she told him she’d be there momentarily and hung up.

  Five minutes later, she began to see rough cardboard placards on fence posts and telephone poles with arrows in Magic Marker displaying directions to the site. There was a handful of other signs, vivid red lettering on a white background, proclaiming the name of the movie and the production company. She’d been expecting those. However, with the village finally in sight, she came upon a very large sign she had not been expecting:

  FRONTIER WOMAN

  RED HAWK FILMS

  Sam nearly drove into the ditch.

  “What the fuck?” she said out loud. It had been just three days since she’d signed the deal with Ronnie Red Hawk and already he was making signs and stamping the movie with his own name? Who did he think he was? It was the type of move Sam herself would make, and that bothered her more than a little. However, she had no choice but to set it aside in her mind for the time being. Apparently there were problems on set to sort out. She would deal with Ronnie Red Hawk down the road, after he realized he was out of his depth. For now, Sam would let him flounder for a bit before showing him the advantages of keeping to the shallow end.

  First she had to get to the village and make sure they actually got something worth printing on the first day of shooting. Thank God for Tommy Alamosa, she thought. He was good at keeping things moving, and at talking people down from ledges, which is why she hired him. He had a reputation as a doper and a guy who liked women, particularly young women, but that had nothing to do with Sam, as long as he did his job. He was a pro and she needed him, with Robb’s insecurities and Levi’s delusions of grandeur to deal with.

  When she arrived, she parked by the trailers at the end of the faux settlement and walked toward the cameras and crew gathered on the dirt street a couple hundred yards away. As she got near, she spotted Olivia Burns and the little girl Georgia, decked out in gingham frocks and sitting on the hard wooden seat of a buckboard wagon. Sam didn’t, however, recognize the man sitting beside them, also wearing period costume. It sure as hell wasn’t Daniel Vardon. This guy was somewhere in his forties, his face and neck and muscular forearms deeply tanned; he had light-brown hair and an expression that was an odd mixture of bemusement and sheepishness. Sam didn’t know who he was, but it was quite obvious he was no actor. Nor was he Vardon’s stand-in, whom she’d interviewed herself a week earlier.

  Robb had been standing on the plank sidewalk looking morose, and now he beetled across the dirt street to intercept her.

  “This has been a disaster,” he said.

  She reached out to stroke his cheek. “It’ll be fine,” she said. “Who’s the guy in the wagon?”

  “Oh fuck,” Robb said. “The guy who came with the horses. Virgil-something. The asshole I told you about. He made fun of me and Levi in the field.”

  “Daniel didn’t make it to set?”

  “Oh, he’s here,” Robb said. His tone grew mincing. “Daniel has a thing about horses. He’s scared shitless of them.”

  “Christ,” Sam said. “What about the stand-in?”

  “Guy’s a fag from Boston. You think he can operate a wagon and horses?”

  “Homosexuals can’t drive buckboards?” Sam asked. “Does the gay and lesbian alliance know about this?” She put her arm around Robb’s shoulders. “Okay, looks as if we’re stuck with the hired hand. Let’s make it work.”

  The man named Virgil was talking with Tommy Alamosa, who stood with his right foot up on the front wheel of the buckboard, shooting the shit with the guy like they were at a ball game or something. Sam made her way over to the wagon and, after saying hello to Olivia and Georgia, turned to the man.

  “Hey buddy,” she said. “I’m Sam Sawchuk. Listen, we really appreciate you helping us out here. Your horses are gorgeous. What are their names?”

  “Bob and Nelly,” Virgil said.

  “Nelly likes carrots,” Georgia said.

  “Carrots are good for you,” Sam said to the little girl before stepping closer to the horses.

  “You might want to put your hand on that mare to let her know you’re there,” Virgil advised. “She could decide to kick you otherwise.”

  “Hey, I’m the producer,” Sam joked. “She won’t kick me.”

  “She doesn’t read the papers, she might not know you’re the producer,” Virgil said. “She kicked me once and I’m the one who feeds her every day.”

  Sam held her smile but moved away from the mare. “So what’s the plan here?” she said to Tommy Alamosa.

  “Long pan of the three of them in the buckboard, approaching the general store,” Tommy said, gesturing with his right hand to indicate the intended route. “Medium shot from behind of them stopping at the hitching post. That’s it for Virgil. We cut to a tight shot of Daniel climbing down from the buckboard—without the horses—and then we go inside, the three of them entering the store.”

  Sam turned and looked down the street, imagining the sequence. She frowned.

  “Best we got,” Tommy said. “Unless you have a better idea.”

  “You get anything at all yet?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” he said. “Wardrobe had to alter a set of Daniel’s clothes to fit Virgil. We’ve been waiting on them.”

  “It’s fucking near noon,” Sam said. “Let’s shoot it.”

  They filmed it as Tommy described. Wearing the slouch hat, Virgil was passable as Daniel Vardon, at least from a distance. They tried a couple of medium shots of Virgil and the two actresses climbing down from
the buckboard with the horses still harnessed, but they weren’t usable.

  “No way in hell,” Tommy told Robb and Sam, looking at the footage in the video village. “Daniel’s built like a dancer and this guy Virgil looks like he could toss one of those horses over a fence. Print it and let’s move on.”

  Sam knew he was right, but still she looked pointedly at Robb. “Just a minute,” she said. She needed him to establish early on that he, and not Tommy Alamosa, would be calling the shots. As usual, it took him a moment to catch on.

  “Let’s have another look,” he said.

  They ran the footage again on the monitor, with Robb watching intently, arms crossed, his thumb pressed to the cleft of his chin.

  “No,” he said decisively midway through. “That won’t work. They’re two different body types. I don’t want it. Let’s move inside.”

  Levi arrived back on site as they were setting up to film inside the store. Sam, standing in front of the mock courthouse, saw him hurrying toward her from the parking lot. She guessed what was on his mind and walked out to meet him, out of earshot of the others.

  “When did you get here?” he asked at once.

  “Hour ago.”

  “Did you happen to see anything interesting on the drive in?”

  “Like a big red sign announcing our new producing partner?” Sam asked.

  “I thought he was a silent partner,” Levi said.

  Sam sighed. “I have a feeling that ‘silent’ isn’t in his vocabulary. What would you like me to do about it?”

  “Start by taking down the sign.”

  “And piss him off?” Sam asked. “You know we’re doing drawdowns. If I’m going to piss him off, I’ll wait until after he’s paid in full.”

  “Chrissakes.”

  “Look—this guy read one page of the book and decided to give us six million dollars,” Sam said. “I have a feeling he’s got the attention span of a two-year-old. So let him play movie producer for a while. Once he sees how boring it is on set, he’ll find some other shiny object to chase and we’ll be rid of him. Capisce?”

  “Like I got a choice,” Levi said. He indicated the crew converging around the general store. “Did they manage to get anything?”

  “We’re back on track,” Sam said. “First day shit, right? Everybody needs to find their rhythm. Where have you been anyway?”

  “I had to meet someone.”

  “You do realize we’re shooting a movie here.”

  “It was personal,” Levi said, irritated. “Plus I had to go to the bank to get money for that dumb hick who brought the horses. He has to have cash.”

  “I thought you were dealing with the owner.”

  “Just for the horses,” Levi said. “This is on top of that, for the hired hand. First he held us up for an extra five hundred a day to wrangle the horses, and then five more as a stand-in.”

  Sam smiled. “And he’s a dumb hick? Good thing we didn’t hire a smart one.”

  “He’s a prick. He pushes me too far and I’ll knock him on his ass. You know where I come from, Sam.”

  “Right,” she said. “The mean streets of Dee-troit.”

  “Don’t fucking mock me.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Sam told him. “It’s a thirty-million-dollar movie. We need horses, and we need a wrangler.” She smiled. “Guy’s kind of a stud too.”

  “Give me a fucking break,” Levi said. “I need something to eat.”

  “I’ll walk with you,” Sam said. “I could use a cup of tea.”

  They turned and started for the craft services trailer. As they headed across the lot, a black limousine approached along the drive from the main road out front, moving slowly, as if the driver was either lost or didn’t know where to park.

  “That for Olivia?” Levi asked.

  “Doubt it,” Sam said. “Olivia’s not a limo kind of girl.”

  “Who, then?”

  Sam stopped walking and watched as the limo idled up beside them. As she waited for the back window to power down, she didn’t need to speculate as to who might be inside. She knew damn well who was inside.

  “Hello, Sam,” the man said, the cold air from the limo’s interior escaping like a blast of Arctic wind.

  “Mr. Red Hawk,” Sam said. “Welcome to the set.”

  EIGHT

  Claire took a bite of her burger and leaned back in her chair as she chewed. Swallowing, she wiped her mouth with the paper napkin, then smiled across the table.

  “You know, I’ve never dined with a movie star before,” she said.

  “Well, you’re not dining with one now, so you can stop it,” Virgil replied.

  He took a drink of beer and looked around the roadhouse called Slim’s. The place was moderately busy, for a Monday night anyway; the bar was lined with young guys drinking beer and watching some show on the big screen, where contestants of questionable intelligence were attempting to jump bicycles over a pool containing a half-dozen small sharks. The guys watching were wagering on the outcome and no doubt wondering how they could land themselves on a show like that.

  Roughly half the tables were occupied as well. Virgil and Claire sat by the front windows where they could see the Hudson in the distance in the fading daylight, drifting slowly past the town of Saugerties on its way to the Atlantic.

  “I don’t know,” Claire said. “Sounds to me as if you made quite an impression, first day and all. What did you get—two promotions?”

  “Yup,” Virgil said. He had a bite of steak and talked around it. “From horse hauler to buckboard outfitter to a guy who pretends to be another guy. I’ll be surprised if I don’t win an Oscar or two.”

  “You’re pretty funny for a movie star.”

  “I told you to quit that.”

  Claire smiled again and plucked a French fry from her plate. “Have some of these,” she said, pushing them toward Virgil. “Well, it sounds as if the money’s okay.”

  Virgil nodded. “They said they’re going to need me for four or five days at least. Should take care of my taxes anyway. And I sold my young bull to a guy up by New Hartford. I’m trucking him up there tomorrow.”

  “Why are you selling the bull?”

  “Because he’s half-brother to all my heifers and I don’t want him breeding them. I got a line on another bull, once I get the money for this one.”

  “So no movie work tomorrow?”

  “They’re shooting inside stuff,” Virgil said. “They said I could come and watch if I was interested. I’ll truck that bull instead.”

  “So you going to take me to the set someday?”

  “Sure,” Virgil said. “But you can’t call me Mr. Cain there. They’re under the impression that Virgil and Mr. Cain are two separate people. They think Mr. Cain owns the horses and Virgil’s just the half-wit hired hand.”

  Claire raised her eyebrows as she wiped her hands on the napkin and took a sip of beer. “And why would they think that, Virgil?”

  Virgil shrugged. “Not sure. These people like to assume things, especially when it comes to us rural folk.”

  “And you didn’t feel any urge to set them straight?”

  “It’s not my job to set them straight,” Virgil said. “I’m just the hired hand.”

  After they ate they took a walk down to the river. The air was cooler there, and there was a slight breeze from the east, rippling the surface of the water. They stopped at a pavilion by a public dock, and Claire sat atop a picnic table while Virgil walked down to the water’s edge, where he stood looking out over the Hudson. A tugboat was motoring noisily upstream, its engines working hard against the current.

  “Well,” Claire said after a time. “Did you meet her?”

  “Meet who?” Virgil asked without turning.

  “You know who. Olivia Burns.”

  “Yeah, I met her.”

  “And is she beautiful?”

  “Oh yeah,” Virgil said. “Gorgeous. Stunning.”

  “All right, all right
.”

  “Hey, you asked.” Virgil turned now. “She’s actually very small, and quiet. I don’t think she said two words the whole time I was around her.”

  “Which was probably two more than you said.”

  Virgil nodded and picked up a rock and with a long, high arc threw it into the river. It splashed down a couple hundred feet out. “It was funny, though,” he said. “When they were actually filming, she changed. It was like turning on a light switch. All of a sudden she became this other person.”

  “I guess that’s acting,” Claire said.

  “I guess so.” Virgil threw another rock. “I met another actress too. Now, she was beautiful. I liked her a lot.”

  “I don’t need to hear this,” Claire said from behind him.

  “Okay.”

  She waited a few moments. “Okay, who is she?”

  Virgil turned. “Her name is Georgia. Blonde hair, great smile. Smart as a whip.” He paused. “She’s ten years old.”

  “Asshole.”

  He smiled and walked back to her. He took her face in his hands and kissed her, then pulled away for a second and kissed her again, this time reaching behind her and wrapping the long hair at the nape of her neck in his hand. They stayed like that for a long while, then walked back up the hill to where they had parked.

  “I’m heading out first thing in the morning,” Claire said. They were standing by the fender of her car. “Looks as if I’ll be in Rochester for the rest of the week. You can call me on my cell.”

  “Okay.”

  “Unless you move to Hollywood.”

  “They have phones in Hollywood. I’ll still call you.”

  “Goodnight, Mr. Cain.”

  • • •

  Sam sat drinking in the bar at the Hampton Inn with Levi. Several members of the crew were also there, scattered around the room, some playing darts, others just lounging and imbibing. People were still getting to know one another. Within days, they would decide who liked whom, and who didn’t, and there would be hookups here and there as the shoot progressed. And maybe a few broken hearts before it was over. It was like summer camp for adults.

  She and Levi had the corner of the bar to themselves, Levi nursing a gin and tonic and Sam drinking tequila shots and beer. From where she sat Sam could see the entrance to Finnegan’s Bar and Grill on the far side of the hotel’s lobby, the entrance where two hours earlier she’d seen Olivia Burns disappear with Ronnie Red Hawk.