"Because we agreed to help with promotion." Lucy happily removed her attention from the mean-girl makeup lady. "We promised Hanna we'd film this thing in time for Christmas." She gave Xochi a weak smile. "You like Christmas, don't you?"
"Yeah, I like Christmas." Xochitl started pacing. "But it's not Christmas. It's September." She twisted the wide silver ring on her left thumb. "I hate Christmas in September."
"But look, we're in town for the Golden Gate workshop anyway." Lucy met Xochitl's grumpy stare in the mirror and searched for something motivational to say. "Let's just get in there, do this and forget it ever happened."
"Right," Xochi said, voice dripping with disgust. "You know damn well this pinche commercial is just some sort of logistical warm up. Now that the book is getting published, Hanna's just looking for something else for us to do so she can squeeze money outta people."
Lucy felt her stomach sour. "Do you think Hounds, and Ferals, and Werebeasts! Oh, My! was just about money? I thought it could help people." Lucy ran her hands through her freshly combed hair. "I just want to help people."
Karla Bee tsked.
"I know, chica," Xochi said gently. "And you do." She wiped Karla Bee's streetwalker red lipstick off her mouth with a Kleenex.
"But what about the people we can't get to? Not everyone can afford to come to our workshops." Lucy's thoughts turned to the long waiting lists Hanna managed for them. "Even when Hound Chow sponsors, even driving up and down California at this insane pace, we can't be everywhere."
"Well, Hanna sets the rates at the R'n'R." Xochi twisted her mouth as she coated her lips with her favorite pink, cinnamon-flavored lip gloss. "I'm sure it's occurred to her that she hasn't tapped the whole market yet. Before you know it, Hanna'll have us doing training DVDs. Mark my word."
"Never happen," Lucy said and scrunched up her face. "This is a one-off."
"Well, that is about as good as that is ever going to get," Karla Bee said and sniffed primly. "I'll stick around to do touch ups." She started cleaning off her area. Lucy could have sworn she heard the woman grumble, "Like it's going to matter."
Lucy made a face at herself in the mirror.
Yeah, I look like something the cat threw up.
"Hey, you look nice," Xochitl said and smiled brightly. "The white goes great with your red hair. Shiner makes you look like a badass."
"You look great," Lucy said, admiring the pristine lines of Xochi's pure white designer suit. "I like the vest. Classy."
"Are you ladies ready?" A tall girl with a walkie-talkie and a clipboard strode up to them with purpose. "I'm Michelle. I'm the production assistant assigned to wrangle you two."
Lucy's mouth went dry. It finally hit her. She was expected to perform. In front of a camera.
"I don't know if I can do this," Lucy's voice squeaked out before she could stop it. Xochi's head turned to her so fast, Lucy thought it might spin off and fly through the air.
"¡Híjole!" Xochi clamped her teeth together and hissed. "Get yourself together, Werewolf Whisperer!"
Lucy felt a rush of performance anxiety spike off her like a heat signature.
I'm not built for this.
Every instinct in her body told Lucy to run. She could feel cold sweat patches forming under her arms. Xochi seemed jittery and cast a haggard glance toward the exit.
Michelle regarded both of them with compassion, pity even. "You're going to love Noel. He's the best, nicest, kindest director you'll ever meet. He'll make you feel really comfortable, and he works really fast. He'll make it fun. I promise."
Lucy and Xochitl's eyes locked. "I'm here for you," the look said. They each gave a quick nod.
Ready!
As they warily followed Michelle to the sound stage, Lucy was distracted by a myriad of delicious smells.
Candy. Coffee. Pastries. Citrus. Yogurt. Chocolate. Granola.
"I smell food," Lucy said, hoping she smelled food meant for them.
"Oh, that's just craft service setting up," Michelle said indifferently. "Crafty is nice, but you want to save your appetite for breakfast. They're bringing in vegan burritos."
Xochitl looked appalled.
They arrived at a hangar-sized room buzzing with activity. The set itself had been transformed into a traditional Santa's workshop, complete with an eight-foot, fully trimmed Douglas Fir Christmas tree, a real-looking fake fireplace that gave off actual warmth and a long wooden work table surrounded by Little People extras dressed in red and green elf outfits. The extras seemed to be establishing a pecking order for their pretend toy making assembly line.
"Looks like the Keebler elves threw up in here," Xochi scoffed.
"Grinch," Lucy said. "Better watch out, or you'll get a lump of coal."
"¿Qué?" Xochi wiggled her pinkie in her ear. "I can't hear you over this shitty music."
The muffled sounds of symphonic holiday pop ricocheted from wall to wall. The sounds evoked memories of opulent, perfume-infused department stores and warm, chocolate chip bread pudding.
Melancholy blindsided Lucy.
Mama.
"This is fun, isn't it?" A young man in sloppy canvas pants and a wrinkled button up shirt bounced up to them. "Gets you right in the spirit, doesn't it?" He smiled, and his eyes twinkled with intelligence and humor. "This is going to be great!"
He stuck out his hand. "I'm Noel." Then he laughed. "Almost like the Christmas song. So appropriate!"
Abruptly pulled out of her reminiscence and put at ease all at once by the young director's amiable charm, Lucy shook his hand with vigor.
The traitorous buttons of her blouse popped open again under the strain.
Oh crap!
Lucy's arms flew up to cover her chest.
Noel turned away. "Peaches!"
"At least you're wearing a bra," Xochitl murmured and stepped forward to shield Lucy.
The wardrobe supervisor appeared almost instantly, carrying both Lucy's discarded jacket and a plain, white T-shirt. "Oh dear me," Peaches said and ushered Lucy off set.
"Maybe the jacket won't bunch up so much if you take those leather bracers off your wrists." Peaches painstakingly undid the stubborn buttons of Lucy's shirt cuffs.
"No," Lucy said without inflection.
"Suit yourself, but they make you look like a steampunk biker chick. Not fem, you know."
They'd sequestered themselves behind a secluded flat. Lucy could hear the crew going about their business of pulling gear for the first shot. She wriggled Peaches' scoop neck tee over her head while listening to the conversations on set.
"Xochitl, you look fantastic!" Noel commented avidly, getting Xochitl's name right.
He did his homework.
"So, this is what we've got," Noel spoke in a hushed, almost revered tone. "We're not just shooting an infomercial. We're going to make some art...Christmas art!"
He laughed again. "In a minute, we'll have a bunch of real dogs and real Hounds and our very own Santa join us."
"Real Hounds?" Xochitl's voice rang over the clamor of excited barks and whines.
Lucy buttoned her jacket quickly.
Peaches slapped at her fingers before she could close the last button. "Always, sometimes, never!" He pointed at each jacket button as he spoke. "No bottom button. I will not have you looking like a doofus on my watch."
"Thanks," Lucy murmured and rejoined the group.
"...Real Hounds. From the shelter. Not Craig's list," Noel got through explaining to Xochi. "We 'rent' them for the day and then return them. It's not ideal, but it doesn't hurt anyone. And the shelter gets some dough. Wish I could adopt them all, but me and my fiancée already have two and our place is small."
Lucy ran her eyes over the pack of six Hounds. They were all young, in their early twenties perhaps, not Puppies. Noel's casting person — or would it have been the prop person? — had selected attractive, healthy specimens. Two boys and four girls. Each Hound was dressed in plea
sing colors coordinated to the greens, reds and whites of the Christmas set. A group of PAs stood by, keeping the little pack corralled on the side of the set.
"Those Hounds sure are spirited. Have they been outside yet?" Lucy asked, concerned.
"Right on, dude," a PA with a short blond beard and a bit of a lazy drawl spoke up first. "We just brought them back in. Did a five mile walk, up and down the hills." He gave a tired smile. "They like to run."
Lucy thought she smelled pot.
"Noel told us to do everything by the book. Your book," a PA girl in black jeans said and flipped a dried pumpkin treat to a patiently waiting Hound. "I'm actually taking three. My parents have a place in Mill Valley. Big yard. My mom says you can't ever have enough guard Hounds."
"That's cool. I guess." Xochi sounded wary. "They get harder to place as they get older. Everyone wants Puppies."
"There you've said a mouthful." A frail, grandmotherly woman wearing a purple jogging suit that set off the purple tinge in her white curls hobbled up next to the camera. She leaned on a shiny cane with a sturdy round base made up of three black rubber feet. "Well, aren’t we all ready then?"
Canines of the traditional, four-legged variety trotted beside her — a large, cotton white poodle, a grey and black husky, a reddish golden retriever and a silky collie that looked every inch like a big boy Lassie.
I miss my dogs.
"Dogs are ready," the old lady said and gestured to the large wingback armchair in front of the faux fireplace. Her four dogs padded to their designated area and plunked their rumps on the floor, looking at her expectantly, ignoring everyone else. The old woman shifted the straps of her compact, bulging "I heart Marin County" backpack.
They're not even bothered by the Hounds!
"Wow!" Lucy tried to stop herself from running over to the woman. "Those are some really well-trained dogs. You barely gestured! How did you—"
"These dogs are my dogs many generations back." The old woman spoke with great confidence despite the shaking in her age-ravaged voice. Her wrinkled skin looked thin up close and was marred by age spots and blue veins. Lucy noticed cataracts beneath thick, large-framed glasses.
"I turn eighty-three next month and have been training dogs since I was knee-high to a grasshopper." She looked Lucy up and down. "You'll be like me one day. Folks call me Granny."
"That'll work," Noel jumped into the conversation, clearly eager to get started. "Stellar!" Pleased, his intense stare roamed from Granny's dogs to Xochi and then to Lucy.
"Good look, Lucy. I like the hair. Sort of messy, sexy."
Huh?
"Okay...This though." Noel studied Lucy's face skeptically. "That black eye is pretty massive. Are you feeling okay?"
The question startled Lucy. "Me? Uh...yeah...fine. Bruises and scrapes come with the territory." Her attempt at nonchalance didn't seem to put him at ease.
"There was this Werebeast in San Simeon..." Lucy trailed off, not wanting to worry Granny, whose concern was palpable. "But running through that castle was super awesome." Lucy forced a wide smile that hurt her cheeks and furrowed her forehead.
"We even took the Grand Room Tour afterwards," Xochitl jumped in. "California history. Pretty sweet." She undid the bottom button of her vest.
"We'll fix that shiner in post," Noel said with considered lightheartedness, an obvious attempt to dismiss his own misgivings. "It's not...that bad."
Liar, liar.
A big Santa in traditional red velvet and white faux fur trim made his way across to the set. His fluffy beard reached past his belt.
Bowl full of jelly. Check.
Santa shuffled by in Birkenstocks. He carried a script with pink pages.
"Xoch," Lucy whispered. "Jerry Garcia Santa."
"Why is Santa's script a different color?" Xochitl asked, suspicious.
"Oh, those are just the rewrites," Michelle sounded chipper. "No big. Not much of your stuff changed. Just some cuts." She took a small stack of pink pages from her clipboard and handed them to Xochitl. "See. All of Lucy's lines stay the same."
Lines. Shit! I was supposed to look at those.
"Drew!" Noel shook Santa's hand enthusiastically and put one arm around the large man's shoulder. "This is the Bay Area's premier Santa. Drew Olander. Drew is the senior-most Union Square Santa. Been doing it for decades. Isn't that right?"
"All the big stores," Santa boomed. "Seriously, thanks for having me, man," he added more quietly. "Things have been a little...since last year's SantaCon pub crawl."
"Hi, Mr. Olander." Lucy went to shake the large man's huge black-gloved hand.
"I like to be called Santa." His eyes twinkled on cue.
"Santa." Xochi kept her greeting short as she flipped back and forth through the pink script pages. "Where are my pinche lines?"
"You're ready. I'm ready. Let's run through this thing." Noel clapped his hands together, startling the Hounds.
"Better watch it with the loud noises and sudden movements," Lucy said and snapped her fingers. She pointed to the ground, and the pack of Hounds settled.
Granny's dogs, already settled, lay on the ground as if they were at home. Calm, relaxed, unconcerned.
Granny fished a handful of chewy lamb treats from the small zipper pocket of her backpack and threw one to each dog.
Oh, that's not a good idea.
As Lucy expected, the Hounds attention snapped in Granny's direction.
"Awesome!" Noel had a wide grin on his face, unaware of the sudden shift in the Hounds' focus. "This is going to go so smooth."
The PAs grouped the Hounds close. Lucy felt the pack's restlessness growing.
Wonder if they're all Hounds.
Xochitl held her pink pages rolled up in her hand and looked ready to swat someone.
"Okay troops!" Noel stood in the center of the set, gathering everybody with a large scooping gesture. The Christmas tree shimmered behind him like an unearthly beacon.
"We're gonna totally rock this thing," Noel started out with glee, deliberately slipping into a more casual cadence. "We're gonna have lots of coverage so we can really capture all the bad doggie, houndy, wolfy business with Santa." He waved his hand over to Drew Olander, who sank into his big chair, close to the dogs but not reaching out to pet them.
"We'll do the master first with the crane to capture everything top to bottom." Noel's energy was infectious, and Lucy felt herself listening closely, even though she couldn't make heads or tails out of the technical terms the director was throwing around.
"Then we're gonna have our tracking shot," Noel continued, "where we're gonna start out on Santa and the houndy frolics, and then the dolly'll move to pick up Lucy's entrance." His hands flew through the air as he described the shots in a delighted frenzy.
He sure likes his job.
Noel looked distracted for a moment, as if a thousand thoughts all clamored for his attention at once. "Michelle, that hearth heater is giving off way too much heat." The girl made a note on her clipboard.
Back on track, Noel swooped across the set to the wooden worktable. "We'll punch in for some tighter coverage, and we'll get some handheld footage of the elven folks. All documentary style." Noel took a quick few hops to present the Little People extras, arms spread wide. "Glad to see you. Good to have you here."
Lucy grinned at Xochi, succumbing to the siren song of holiday cheer. Xochitl rolled her eyes. "Bah, humbug." She turned, walked away and positioned herself next to the monitor.
Noel hastened past the long table, high-fiving extras as he continued, "For starters, let's do a run through. Just for fun. And see what this thing looks like." He clapped his hands. "Let's do it!"
Lucy felt like she should applaud his performance.
Hope his crew got all that.
"Just running it. Lucy, you're still offstage." Noel waved at Xochi. "Be a dear and pull Lucy out of frame."
"I'm gonna kill Hanna," Xochitl mumbled and dragge
d Lucy to her mark.
"Santa, stand in front of the chair. Hounds! Dogs. Go!" Noel instructed.
Michelle handed Santa a little baggy. Lucy thought she smelled bacon. Santa stuffed the baggy of bacon into his glove.
"Old trick of the trade." He placed his finger alongside of his nose and gave a nod. "Bacon never fails."
Hmm.
"Go, dance." Granny commanded in a no-nonsense tone and pointed her dogs toward Santa. The poodle, the husky, the golden and the massive collie sprang from their resting place and merrily jumped all over Santa, yipping and whining for all they were worth.
Impressive.
Not well trained — or even trained at all — the Hounds, once let off-leash, wasted no time and followed their noses to the bacon's source, Santa.
Lucy noticed a Hound boy with golden curls push in front of the pack, establishing his dominance. He had been outfitted in a red holiday T-shirt and dark green jeans but had ripped off his white scarf and slouchy knit cap. Hard muscles showed through the golden fur of his arms, and he moved with the edgy grace of a kickboxer.
"That one's a handful," Michelle said, following Lucy's line of sight. "But he looks like a Christmas angel, all golden curls and sky blue eyes. Noel said we have to keep that one happy. Keep him smiling that big ol' smile."
"I'm thinking Feral," Xochi threw in. "He's got that look in his eyes."
"Could be," Lucy agreed. "He is rowdy. And strong."
"And...Action," Noel yelled before they could discuss the possible Feral further.
Overrun with dogs and Hounds begging for the latent bacon, Santa rose to his feet and gave an exaggerated shrug, like he had no idea how in the world to deal with the rambunctious rout of Hounds and dogs jumping on him.
"Oh, dear me, what ever shall I do?" Lucy bugged her eyes out at Xochi.
"I know," Xochi played along, "you should get The Werewolf Whisperer."
"Shh!" A stout woman standing off to the side, holding a giant black binder, scowled in their direction.
"I'm just going to do the voice over," Noel called out brightly. "Keep an eye on the lines for me, would ya Peggy?" He nodded to the shushing woman.
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