Oodles of Poodles (3 page)

“How’d it go?” Nina maneuvered from behind the desk. I smiled as I rose and looked at her. She of course wore a blue HotRescues knit shirt, as did all staff members while on duty, including me. Nina no longer looked as frazzled as when she initially began working at HotRescues—and had come fresh from an abusive marriage. Now, her attractive face was all smiles beneath long bangs of her straight brown hair. I’d gotten used to the fact that she was younger and prettier than me. She was an absolutely wonderful asset to HotRescues, and I relied on her.

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll tell you all about it in a bit—or tomorrow, if you’d rather, since it’s getting late. I need to call Dante now. Have you heard from him?”

“Just a quick call early this afternoon. He wanted to confirm that you were on the set. He asked for a report from you whenever possible.”

“It’s possible right now.” Gesturing for Zoey to follow, I headed down the hall from the reception area to the first doorway, my office. I quickly sat behind my desk, an antique-looking L-shaped piece of furniture that I’d refinished once upon a time, though it wasn’t as old as it seemed. I put my purse into a desk drawer as I looked toward the other
side of my office. I used the pleasant conversation area across from me mostly to chat with potential adopters.

I grabbed the receiver for the landline on the desk and punched in Dante’s number.

Dante DeFrancisco was HotRescues’ benefactor. He’s an incredibly wealthy man, thanks to making lots of money from his highly successful chain of HotPets stores, where he sells all kinds of pet-related foods and other items. He gives some of it back to the animals that made him rich, funding HotRescues and a wildlife sanctuary called, unsurprisingly, HotWildlife.

Now, he was also helping to call attention to abused and unwanted animals in another way. He was a co-producer of
Sheba’s Story
—which meant he was throwing a lot of money into the production. That was partly because a good friend of his, Niall Cransley, was the screenplay writer and also a co-producer.

Dante’s affiliation was why I, too, was involved.

“Hi, Lauren,” he said, answering the phone almost immediately. I smiled as I watched Zoey jump onto the sofa in my conversation area and settle down to sleep. “How’s the production going?”

“Fine, as far as a newbie like me can tell,” I replied. I told him about all I’d seen on set. I’d been to the filming other times since it had begun but I’d stayed the longest today. “Carlie was there, too,” I finished. “She temporarily had more time available than the other vets from her clinic.”

“Sounds good,” Dante said. “Any idea what’s next?”

“Hans said that permits finally came through for shooting scenes on some Valley streets,” I reported. “I can get more particulars if you’d like.”

“Don’t bother,” Dante said. “I’ll call Niall and make arrangements to meet him there. That sounds interesting enough to carve out some time to see. Thanks for the update.”

“Anytime,” I said. “Let me know when you’ll be there. I’d enjoy seeing some of the street filming, too.” I didn’t mention to him the possible clash of wills between Hans and the American Humane representative, Grant. I might have misread their interaction, and even if I hadn’t they’d surely work it out for the good of the production.

I hoped.

Dante and I didn’t talk much longer; we both had things to do.

Mine was to take my last walk of the day through the HotRescues facility, one of my greatest pleasures.

When I stood, Zoey immediately rose and jumped off the couch. As usual, she accompanied me.

I loved our shelter, especially after it had been enlarged and remodeled last year. The kennels were all spacious and kept clean, including the first ones Zoey and I walked past once we got into the outside area. They were mostly on the left of the pathway since there was a building midway on the right. Outdoor portions of the kennels extended into small indoor areas so each dog could decide whether to stay in or out.

At the moment, the animals acted like they knew we were coming—which they probably did, considering their keen canine senses of hearing and smell. All dogs on both sides sat or stood at attention. A few barked, although the shelter staff and volunteers always discouraged it. Noisy pups are less likely to get adopted fast.

We kept pages slipped into a plastic folder near each kennel gate containing the history of each inhabitant. I was thrilled to be reminded by
ADOPTION PENDING
stickers that two of our longest-term residents, Dodi, a sheltie mix, and Hannibal, mostly Great Dane, were about to go home with their new families. As always, I wondered why some pets were snatched right up by adopters and others had to wait a long time till the right family came along. Sometimes, I supposed, it was obvious, depending on an animal’s loving nature and cute looks and demeanor versus the pit bull syndrome, where people tend to avoid animals they assumed—often wrongly—could be aggressive. But Dodi and Hannibal were both sweet and adorable, and both had been here for many months.

Soon, though, they, too, would have new homes.

Zoey and I passed the building on the right, part of last year’s remodel. The upstairs was now an apartment for our overnight security personnel.

My cell phone rang and I silently cursed myself for bringing it along. I pulled it out of my pocket.

The number that showed wasn’t one I knew, but I answered anyway.

“Hi, Lauren. This is Grant Jefferly. I was just checking out the streets where the filming will be for the next few days, and it’s right in your neighborhood. Care to join me?”

Northridge was, in fact, fairly near the HotRescues location in Granada Hills. It was definitely closer to us than to the Woodland Hills studio.

But it wasn’t exactly in our neighborhood.

Even so, I was interested in learning what the American Humane representative thought of the area—not that I believed streets would be vastly different in one place from another. The filming was to occur both in commercial and residential areas.

No matter where they were located, busy shopping sites would have a lot of traffic. Like the American Humane folks and others connected with the movie, I’d read the screenplay. I knew that Sheba and her sibling poodles were supposed to be loose for part of the time in a location where there could be a lot of activity, both vehicle and pedestrian.

The plan was that, for the animals’ safety, all genuine traffic would be halted in favor of pseudo-activity staged by actors and crew—and that cars would be dubbed in by animation. At least that was the way I understood it.

With Zoey along, I drove to the filming area. After parking in a shopping center lot, I spotted Grant walking toward us. He’d taken off his American Humane vest and wore just his gray T-shirt and jeans. He still wore rubber-soled shoes, and so did I, since crew and other people on the set were encouraged to use comfortable and safe footwear.

Grant’s smile seemed even broader now that he was supposedly off duty. It made him look more human and less wannabe film star; or maybe he just appeared more like a regular, if quite handsome, guy when he wasn’t near a currently operating set.

“Who’s this?” He knelt to pet Zoey, who basked in the attention.

“That’s Zoey,” I said. “And no, she has no aspirations to become a film star—or at least she’s never told me of any.”

Grant laughed and rose again, then gestured around the
area where we stood. “I visited here with Cowan before any filming started,” he said, “when they first applied for the permits. The description of what they intended to do sounded acceptable, but I thought I’d visit again before the shoot to refresh my memory.”

“Great. What will they do here?”

I looked around. A major shopping mall was just down the street, and I doubted that stores there would welcome the nearby road being shut down for any length of time for filming. On the other hand, this was March, not a huge shopping season, so maybe they’d like the publicity.

For the next half hour, Grant, Zoey, and I walked around. Grant pointed out the locations he’d understood would be the main filming areas.

“That’s all subject to change,” he said as we walked back to my car. “At least somewhat. Seeing it with one of the trainers is one thing, but having the director and others on the set can mean adapting to the reality of what happens. Some flexibility is okay, as long as the animals are, too. It will involve filming dogs and cars separately.”

“I figured. Thanks for showing me. The filming starts here tomorrow?”

“That’s right. Bright and early, at five
A.M.
It’ll continue for about a week. Will you be here to watch?”

“Not sure,” I said. I was definitely curious but had a lot to do at HotRescues. “I doubt there’s anything I can do but gawk anyway. There’ll be a vet here from The Fittest Pet Veterinary Hospital, whether or not Carlie comes.”

“Come and gawk anytime,” Grant said. “You’ve got a perfect tie-in—your relationship with the producers.” He
glanced at his watch. “Care to grab dinner with me? There are a couple of places down the street with outdoor patios where Zoey would be welcome.”

That wasn’t asking me out on a date, or so I told myself. I was in a sort-of relationship with Matt Kingston, a really great captain with Los Angeles Animal Services who kept me informed about when particularly adoptable animals were in danger of being put down for lack of room at the public facilities. I didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize that.

And, well, I really didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize the personal nature of our relationship either. I’d been married once to a really wonderful man—the father of my kids—who’d died. I’d remarried to give them a new father, and that had been a huge mistake. Now, although I had no real commitment to Matt, I cared for him. A lot.

But even if handsome Grant thought having dinner with Zoey and me was a date, I could disabuse him of that while learning more about what he did to ensure that “No Animals Were Harmed” at movie and TV filmings.

All that was a long way of convincing myself that I did want to have dinner with this man.

It was a pleasant dinner, too, at a nearby family restaurant with an outdoor area, where we sat. Our conversation was filled with anecdotes about movies and TV shows I’d heard of, ones with animals that Grant had sometimes been called to observe even just the night before the shooting.

I laughed, a lot. Was I acting—or truly enjoying myself? Too much of the latter, I feared.

And even though I try to never second-guess myself,
much later that night, when Zoey and I were home and getting ready for bed, I called Matt.

“It was quite a day,” I told him, sitting on the fluffy blue upholstered sofa in my living room with my state-of-the-art TV—chosen by my son, Kevin—turned off. I recounted what I’d seen on the set of
Sheba’s Story.

“Any chance of my getting to watch a filming?” Matt asked.

“Not sure,” I said. “I’m special only because Dante told me to get involved, be his extra set of eyes. There’s already an American Humane representative present.” I felt my face grow warm as I thought about getting together with Grant for dinner. “Plus a veterinarian, either Carlie or someone from her office. They might not like someone from Animal Services there, too.”

“Oh.” He sounded disappointed.

“I’ll think about how to finesse it, though,” I assured him. “I’d love to have you see how this works. It’s time-consuming when they shoot scenes over and over, but it’s so much fun to watch. I’m not sure when I’ll go back—I know Dante wants to pop in sometime this week. But the next filming will be street scenes, so maybe I can figure something out. It may be easier than getting you on to a studio lot.”

“Sounds good. So how are Zoey and you?” His tone had gotten warmer, which made me warmer, too—and not just because I felt a little guilty.

“We’re fine. And Rex and you?” Rex was his black Lab mix.

“Why don’t I give you an update in person? You free tomorrow night for dinner?”

“Yes,” I said emphatically. That would definitely be a date, one I’d enjoy.

We made arrangements to get together at my place, a good thing.

They might even stay the night.

Chapter 3

I got up early to head to HotRescues because I’d spent so little time there yesterday. Since I’d run a marathon to benefit HotRescues and other shelters a few months ago, I occasionally still took Zoey out for a morning run, but not today.

I was dressed in my HotRescues shirt and ready to head for the car when my smartphone rang.

Still standing near the kitchen table with Zoey looking up at me expectantly, I pulled my phone from my pocket and glanced at the ID. Dante.

“Good morning,” I said as cheerfully as I could while waiting for some kind of shoe to drop. Dante didn’t call this early for no reason. I eased myself onto a chair and leaned forward as tension clamped my insides.

Most of the time he caught me while I was at
HotRescues—by design, since he often wanted me to look something up on the computer about finances or the supplies he sent from HotPets to feed our rescuees.