by K. B. Draper
“A mutt for sure,” Kanyon mused.
The dog scoffed.
“Okay, seriously. What’s with the scoffing?”
The dog rolled its eyes.
“A dog with attitude. Peachy, because we don’t already have enough of that around here. Alright,” Kanyon leaned down. “You a boy or–” She leaned back up. “Definitely boy.”
The dog held up a paw for a high five.
“No. Just … no.”
The dog dropped his paw with a smirk.
“Okay, boy dog. And you’re a … What? Part Husky, Mastiff mix?”
Another scoff.
Kanyon raised an eyebrow. “Border Collie mixed with …” she thought out loud.
He shook his head.
“Great Pyrenees?”
Another head shake.
“Terrier? Sheepdog? Akita?” Kanyon asked.
The dog looked at the ceiling.
Kanyon ignored the small fact she was having a conversation with a dog that appeared to not only understand her but was responding to her. With an attitude, no less. She folded her arms across her chest. “Poodle?”
He lowered his head and growled.
“Shih Tzu?” she challenged playfully.
He stood, spun away from her, and sat back on his haunches with an exaggerated huff.
She had to laugh. “Okay then, how about a Newfoundland?”
He looked over his shoulder.
“Geez, okay.” Kanyon gave the dog another once over, basing her next guess off his coat. “Irish Wolfhound?”
The dog turned back to her and scratched once at the floor.
“Okay, so Irish Wolfhound and …”
The dog lowered his head and took a predator’s crouch, letting a low growl vibrate from the back of his throat.
“And wolf,” Kanyon said, taking a half step back.
His head raised along with his paw for another high five.
Kanyon met his paw this time. “Okay, so Irish Wolfhound with a double helping of wolf. Now, do you have a name?”
The dog belched.
Kanyon waved the spaghetti aroma from her nose. “Ralph, it is.” She looked at her watch. “Crap, I’m late. Okay, you need to head back home now.” The dog stood and walked out of the kitchen.
“That was way easier than I know it’s totally not going to be.”
As expected, the dog wasn’t patiently waiting at the front door to go home. Instead, she heard her TV go on in the living room. “What the hell?”
Kanyon found Ralph lying on her couch watching the Nature Channel. “How did you …” She looked around for the remote. She snatched it from underneath his paw and flipped off the television. “I’m going to pretend none of this,” she made a whirling motion with her hand, “just happened.” She sat the remote on the coffee table. “This has been super fun but it’s time to go home now.”
Ralph didn’t make any movements toward the door. Instead, he stood, circled three times, then dropped back into the same sprawled out position.
Kanyon was still watching the dog make himself at home on her couch when Blue strolled in, a mug in her hand. “Why are you still here?” She looked at her watch. “You’re late.”
“What are you doing in here?” Kanyon asked.
“I was going to, you know …” She moved around the room for an explanation. “Dust. I was going to dust. She stretched out the bottom of her T-shirt and made a swipe at the end table as she circled the far edge of the couch. And squealed. “Oh my God, you got us a dog! I always wanted a dog!”
Kanyon leapt, catching Blue’s elbow before she could lunge for the dog. “No. I didn’t get us a dog. And what’s in the mug?” Kanyon glared.
Blue held the mug out as far away as she could. “Ah, tea.”
“Why is it dark and smells like hazelnut?”
“Brazilian tea?”
“Give it.” Kanyon ordered.
“It’s mine,” Blue protested.
“You have funny qualifiers for the word mine.”
“Possession is nine-tenths of the law,” Blue countered.
“Hand it over or I’ll be possessing your spleen.”
“You suck.” Blue handed Kanyon her mug, then refocused her attention to the couch.
Kanyon followed Blue’s gaze. “What the …” She glanced around. “Where’d he go?” She 360ed it. “He was just here. Did you see him?” She groaned as she saw the mischievous look that took over Blue’s face. Kanyon pointed. “Don’t even. We’re not playing the What? I didn’t see anything game. Again.”
Blue dropped the grin to let out a chuckle. “That was a good day.”
“Yep. Crazy fun.”
Ralph trotted back in with a pillow from Kanyon’s bed gripped in his teeth. He flipped the pillow on the couch, jumped up after it, spun around three times, then flopped on his side with his head on Kanyon’s pillow.
“Oh, man. He’s so freakin’ awesome!” Blue moved around the couch to sit with Ralph. She held out a hand and when he didn’t bite it off, she began petting him.
“Yeah, awesome.” Kanyon muttered.
“What’s his name?” Blue asked.
“Ralph.”
“I can’t believe you got us a dog! Where’d you get him?” Blue asked as Ralph used a paw to pull her in so she could get a better rubbing angle. “I love him.” That earned Blue a big wet kiss on the face.
For a moment, Kanyon simply watched in awe as Blue’s usual full of attitude, tougher-than-nails mask melted into a wide grin. She hated to break up the moment but she didn’t want Blue getting attached. “Blue, he’s probably someone’s dog. He’s just lost and walked up to the wrong house.”
Blue dug in the dog’s fur. “He doesn’t have a collar.”
“Probably came off somewhere.” Kanyon glanced at her watch. “I’m so freaking late. I’ve got to go. He can stay until we find his owners, then he has to go.”
“Sweet!” Blue hugged the dog.
“I’ll leave you some money. Get some lost dog flyers printed and put them up while I’m gone.” Kanyon got a grunt as a response and heard the television flip back on as she started up the stairs.
“Nature Channel. I’m down with that,” Blue said.
Ten minutes later, Kanyon came jogging down the stairs and back into the living room. Blue and Ralph were still on the couch. Blue was using Ralph as a pillow and they were both fixed on the television. Kanyon slapped a fifty on the side table to get their attention. “Flyers.”
“Okay,” Blue answered, not taking her eyes from the television or her hand from Ralph.
Kanyon shook her head. As she opened the door, she heard Blue ask, “Pepperoni and extra cheese?” And Ralph’s one bark answer. Kanyon yelled back to the two squatters on her couch, “I’m serious. I want at least fifty flyers posted up before I get home tonight.” When she didn’t get a response, she yelled again. “Blue!”
“Fifty flyers posted. Fine!”
Chapter 4
Kanyon hit the studio with two minutes to spare. Her trailer was on the edge of the lot, making it convenient for her to slip in without having to go through the crowds of people already bustling about the set. She dropped her bag and keys, double-checked the shooting schedule, and pulled on the outfit the assistant had laid out for the shoots they were filming today. Most actresses have a team of wardrobe assistants up under their armpits, ready to strip off their shirt at any given moment. Kanyon, however, was a dress herself kind of girl if she could help it. She’d still have to go through adjustments and the hair and makeup routine but it was one form of torture she was able to avoid today at least.
Kanyon undressed as she looked down at the tight leather outfit that she’d spent a good portion of the filming time in. She sighed. Speaking of torture. “Seriously, what self-respecting double agent would wear a leather onesie to fight terrorists?” She wiggled the suit over her hips. “I mean, damn,” she grunted as she wiggled and yanked. “Mr. Gadget’s trench coat makes a wh
ole lot more freakin’ sense.” She held her breath as she brought the zipper up to her neck. She stretched and flexed her muscles, making sure she could move. “Of course, a trench coat doesn’t look so badass.” She threw a couple of punches and a front kick.
Two quick raps came to the side of her trailer. “Kanyon, you’re up in ten!”
“Got it.” Kanyon grabbed her boots then dropped on the little sofa to pull them on when she felt the all too familiar tingle in the air. “I only have ten minutes,” Kanyon offered without looking up to see her guest.
“Hello to you too,” Isadora replied.
“Hey.” Kanyon slid her foot into her other boot.
“I have missed you,” Isadora said, warmth and affection evident in her voice.
At her kind words, Kanyon stopped buckling her boots, looked up, and offered a smile. “I’ve missed you too. I just don’t know why you keep … I mean, I don’t see the point if I’m not a Guardian anymore.” Her heart ached. For the few weeks that she’d worked with Daylen, been a Guardian, she was the happiest she’d ever been. She’d finally felt that she fit somewhere. She had a purpose and was finally doing what she was meant to do. She snapped the leather at her thigh. “I don’t want to talk about–”
“You have not wanted to talk about it for months now.” Isadora lowered the hood on her robe as she sat next to Kanyon. When Kanyon stiffened, Isadora patted her on the leg. “And we do not have to today. I just wanted to check on you.”
“I’m fine. Just doing my job and making a movie,” Kanyon offered solemnly.
Isadora leaned in and gave Kanyon a soft kiss on the top of her head. “Ah, Kanyon, my strong warrior.”
Kanyon stood abruptly and grabbed the long leather duster that went with today’s outfit. “Ha ha, but you forget. I’m not a warrior, I just play one on TV.” Kanyon gave Isadora a big, fake, commercial smile.
Isadora stood as well. “You cannot fight who you truly are.” Isadora moved in and cupped Kanyon’s face in her hands. “She will need you soon.”
Before Kanyon could protest or ask any questions, Isadora misted away. She will need you soon. What the hell does that mean? “Jesus. Cryptic much?” she yelled at no one. Kanyon pocketed the fear that Daylen might be in trouble. Maybe Daylen just needs a job reference? No. Daylen was still gainfully employed as a Seeker. She was the only one currently standing in the supernatural unemployment line.
Two quick raps came to the side of her trailer. “Makeup in five.”
Kanyon inhaled a steeling breath as she took a moment to get into character. She exhaled, plastering on a fake smile and fake enthusiasm, making herself into the happy-to-be-here actress, a particular role she found much harder to play than the one she’d been hired to portray.
Daylen’s stomach was flipping like a drunk spider monkey in a bouncy house when she pulled into the movie lot entrance. She conjured up a smile for the security guard, hoping it was someone she knew. She sighed in relief when she saw who stepped out of the guard shack. “Hey, Reynolds.” She added a friendly wave to the guard that had greeted her for the five years she’d been filming Dark Savior.
“Hello, Miss Elliott! How are we doing today? Long time no see. I sure miss seeing your face around this place.” His grin widened. “Make my day and tell me you’re coming back.”
“Sorry.” A genuine smile accompanied her headshake this time. “I’m just back for a quick visit. I’m here to see …” She thought about lying just so she didn’t have to say it out loud. “I need to get on Kanyon’s set today. Do you know where they’re filming?”
“Yes, ma’am. Today they’re in the south lot, B. Outdoor shoot.” He scribbled something on his clipboard then stepped back in his booth to raise the gate. He returned quickly. “You enjoy your visit. Come back and see us anytime.”
She offered him another wave. “Thank you, Reynolds.”
Reynolds was still waving and smiling at Daylen as the next car pulled up to the gate.
“You seem exceptionally warm and welcoming this morning,” the woman said with a sneer in her voice.
“Miss Cruze, I was,” he glanced at Daylen’s taillights as they turned the corner, “just greeting an old friend. She was–”
Lexi waved a dismissive hand. “Quit babbling.” Dropping her sneer, she put a low seductive purr into her next words, as she traced a teasing finger around the yellow stone pendant that lay in the deep v of her shirt. “Just tell me who has your heart all aflutter.”
“I … It was, ahh …” Reynolds swallowed hard. “It was Miss Daylen Elliott, ma’am,” Reynolds reluctantly admitted.
“Was it now? Well, isn’t that interesting.” She looked in the direction Daylen had gone, then back to Reynolds. “Who is she here to see?”
Reynolds pulled at the collar of his shirt. “I don’t think that–”
“Reynolds, here’s a suggestion. Don’t think. Just talk. Who is Daylen here to see?”
Sweat appeared at Reynolds’ brow. “I–”
“Reynolds.” Lexi lowered her tone. “Tell me who she is here to see.”
Lexi smirked as she saw Reynolds struggle helplessly against her will. “Miss McKane,” he finally admitted.
She tossed a flippant hand. “Thank you, Reynolds. You’ve been most helpful.”
Daylen made her way to the back lot, grateful for the quick “Hey, how are ya’s” that people she used to work with threw her way. She avoided looking at the studio where she and Kanyon had spent so much of their time filming Dark Savior. She made her way between the rows of temporary trailers and equipment tents that framed the heart of the movie production. She’d tried not to read the papers or search online for information about Kanyon’s new film, but she’d had a few moments of weakness. She knew Kanyon was playing a rogue femme fatale forced to act as a double agent by some three-letter agency. She didn’t have all the details as she’d been too distracted by the photographs of Kanyon accompanying the articles, to actually read them.
Her body reacted as one particular photo of Kanyon chose to flash in her mind. Kanyon had been standing, partially turned away, her long, black leather coat flapping in a nonexistent wind. She held a gun at her side and a dead expression on her face. Daylen’s heart lurched. The last time she’d actually seen Kanyon, that same emotional mask had slipped over her face before she’d walked out of Daylen’s life. The last few fragile pieces of Daylen’s heart had shattered, even though it had been Daylen who forced Kanyon’s response.
Kanyon flopped back on her couch, already tired from a morning of acting both on and off set. She closed her eyes, relishing in the last few minutes of the small break they had between shoots. She had five minutes until her next call and three more excruciating weeks until they wrap up the movie entirely. If all goes well, she thought. She didn’t know how much longer she could keep up the “I’m happy” ruse. She opened one eye to glance at the wall clock. Damn. Three minutes. She pulled herself up, re-plastered the I’m so happy to be here smile on her face, and reluctantly headed out.
Kanyon joked with a camera guy as he grabbed a donut from the catering table. She helped an intern with an over-stuffed tray of coffees, and gave a nod of surrender to the makeup girl chasing her with a handful of brushes and a number of other instruments of death. Kanyon had thought about running just for the fun of it, but quickly reminded herself the sooner she let it happen the sooner it would all be over. She was proud of herself a few moments later. Not only had she let the girl fluff and polish without groaning, but she even managed a thank you when the girl was done. I should get an Oscar for that performance alone, she thought as she headed off to get the next scene set-up.
“Kanyon, perfect! You’re right on time,” Steven said as he spun from a camera monitor. “Last shots look great. We got the lead-ins already, so we’re good to go for the recovery and extraction scene.” He flipped through the script that someone held in front of him. “Here.” He pointed at the page. “We’ll take it from this mark.” He looke
d up to scan the lot. “Ryan!”
Ryan, Kanyon’s co-star, a tall, dark-haired guy playing her very attractive, lean-muscled, brainiac of a boyfriend, turned in their direction. “Yo.”
“Get yourself tied up.” Steven looked at the sky. “We need to get this in one shot. It’s looking as if it’s going to rain and I want to take advantage of this rarity. Nothing better than a good rescue scene playing out in a rainstorm. Let’s move, people.”
In route to her mark, Kanyon felt a tickle at her fingertips and looked down. “Tight ass leather suit,” she grumbled as she tried to shake her hands awake.
“Nervous?”
She smiled at Archer, the movie’s head stunt coordinator. “Nah, I’m good.”
“You sure?” Archer asked, giving her hands a cursory look.
“Yep.”
“I already know the answer, but I’m going to keep asking you anyway. Are you sure you don’t want a stunt double for the ground to roof to window scene?” He held up a hand as Kanyon’s mouth opened. “I know. I know. You want to do all your own stunts and you signed the waiver, and the waiver to the waivers, but I just have to ask.”
Kanyon smiled. “I’m good. Weapons check?”
Archer pulled out the two modified 40 caliber guns that Kanyon’s character wore under her leather coat. “They’re clear.” He handed the guns to Kanyon one at a time so she could inspect them for herself. She racked the slide, checking the chamber and then the clips. Satisfied, she put them in the holsters strapped along her rib cage. She lifted her arms and Archer checked the fitting, adjusting one so it was easier for her to access. He stepped back and eyed her. “Okay, we’re good. Second dumb question, full rig?” At Kanyon’s look, he held up two hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. Guide wire only. I’m going to have a talk with Dodge about turning you all Jackie Chan on us. You’re out stunting my stunt guys. You think he’s got time to teach this old guy some new tricks?”
