Page 53 of By A Thread
“Scheduling conflict,” Ally called out, fruitlessly trying to dig her skinny heels into the sidewalk and stop the team of dogs before it plowed into him. “Bruno, sit!”
The basset hound in a plaid sweater stopped abruptly and sat.
I made a grab for one of the leashes before Ally was ripped in half by bad-mannered dogs who seemed hell-bent on sniffing things on opposite sides of the park. I came away with a psychotic chocolate lab who hurled himself at me. His front paws caught me in the gut, which apparently wasn’t high enough because the dog immediately leapt off the ground and into my arms. Long, pink dog tongue slathered my face.
“What the h—” My words were choked off by a dog-instigated French kiss. I dodged the next assault, and the lab put his head on my shoulder and let out a sigh.
“Aww. He thinks you’re his people,” the camerawoman said.
“I’m nobody’s people,” I grumbled, wrestling away from joyful dog tongue. Dopey brown eyes looked into mine.
Ally shoved the remaining leashes at Linus. The long-legged one was an interesting mottled gray and looked like it had been bred with a greyhound that had chased the rabbit on the race track a few times. The last one was a big-ass brindle pit bull with shoulders like a tank.
“Where did you find these canine monstrosities?” Linus demanded, yanking a flask out of his jacket pocket with a free hand. “In a back-alley dumpster?”
“Midtown Fur Friends Rescue. I promised them credit. Rescue name, dog names, and a link to the adoptables,” Ally answered, carefully reaching into her pocket.
“These things are adoptable?” I asked. They looked like they could destroy an apartment in under two minutes.
“They’re notthatbad,” she insisted delusionally.
The basset hound was happily trotting around Linus as he screamed, effectively ensnaring the man’s legs in leash.
I choked out a laugh. I had to admit. The dog I was holding might be ruining a perfectly good cashmere coat, but it was worth it seeing Linus lose his mind.
Ally smiled up at me, and I forgot about the coat and Linus and the cold and the dog tongue.
Scarf Guy hurried over and plucked the sixty pounds of dog out of my arms. “I’ll just take this before…” he trailed off and scurried away.
Before what?
Did I look like the kind of person who would drop-kick a homeless dog? Christ.
“Here. Hold this one,” Ally said, shoving a tiny, scruffy, shiveringthinginto my hands. At leastshedidn’t seem to think I was going to devour it.
“What the fuck is this, a hamster?”
She pressed her lips together. “The shelter told me it’s a dog. But I’m not buying it. He might just be something one of the bigger ones coughed up. His name is Mr. Frisky, and he’s bonded to the one-eyed pit bull over there making time with your models.”
The very large brindle dog was making moony eyes—correction, eye—at the women.
“Aren’t you just the most handsomest boy in the whole world?” the Croatian, Kata, crooned to the beast.
“His name is Pirate,” Ally whispered to me.
“We can’t shoot with these mutants. Someone bring me a Xanax and a deep-dish pizza,” Linus wailed.
“It’s your turn for his pep talk,” I said, nudging Ally forward. She grinned at me, and damned if I didn’t feel my own mouth responding.
“You said solutions,” Ally said, taking the man by the shoulders. “Here’s your solution. Now show us how to make this work. Make it work, Linus, or a homeless dog just vomited inLabel’sEscalade for no reason. Give us a reason.”
The little blond ball shivered again, so I tucked it into my coat against my chest. “Your buddy is right there,” I told Mr. Frisky, pointing toward Pirate the pit bull who was curled up on one of the blankets belonging to a delighted model and showing the woman his belly. The hairball’s rat-like tail tapped out a happy beat.
Linus pinched his eyebrows with his fingers. “This is impossible. This won’t work. We’ll be laughed out of the industry.”
I waited for it.
“Unless,” Linus said, lifting his head.
