“Do you mind?” Steve held up the ball, his expression a little sheepish, like he didn’t want to disappoint Drew but couldn’t bear to disappoint the dog either. “If I start, she’s not going to want to stop for at least half an hour, but she won’t need a walk later, and she’ll probably pass out on the couch. The iFetch will only keep her busy for a few minutes before she gets bored.”
Drew still had half his second beer left, and the breeze kept the evening from being too hot. He could stand to watch Steve work those shoulders for a while. “As long as you let me throw a couple.”
“That’s up to Rita.” Steve shot him a slightly apologetic look before he cocked back his arm and let loose, firing the ball across the yard. Rita took off like a rocket, a white-gray blur, but Drew was too busy appreciating the way Steve’s T-shirt rode up in the back to pay her much mind. “She can be picky.”
Now Drew wished he hadn’t offered. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d thrown a ball. He definitely didn’t have that kind of form.
Steve didn’t say anything, though, after the fifth or sixth retrieve, when Rita looked at Steve, wagged her tail, and then nudged Drew’s hand with her nose instead.
“I’m honored,” Drew said. The ball dripped with drool.
“Careful what you wish for,” Steve said, wry.
Despite their best intentions, the conversation did eventually turn to the script. By then Rita was flopped happily on the floor by the couch, all four feet in the air as she snored. Drew and Steve sat at opposite ends of the couch, turned toward each other, each with a knee up on the cushions so they almost touched. Between the way Steve kept looking at him, the beer, and the sun streaming in from the patio doors, Drew felt pleasantly warm.
“So they liberate the dog, but they’re convinced a neighbor sees them, and so then when a patrol car goes by….”
Drew let Steve catch him up on the continuing antics of Scotty, Morgan, the dog, and their run through Vegas—casinos, backstage at Cirque du Soleil, the aquarium at Mandalay Bay, maybe a nod to the Stratosphere. For budgetary reasons, they’d have to restrict filming to stock footage and greenscreens, but Photography and Editing could worry about that.
“I have to get a map out to make sure they do it all in the right order. I’ve never actually been to Vegas.” Steve ran a hand through his hair, making it stand on end. “So it’s dog first, and then, despite Morgan’s assertion that they don’t have to go into the city at all, Scotty takes a ‘wrong turn’ as he tries to escape the cops—”
MORGAN
(panicking)
No, no, no, what are you doing? You’re going the wrong way!
SCOTTY
What are you talking about? I’m—
EXT. MOVING CAR - DAY
They pass a sign for LAS VEGAS 9 MILES.
INT. CAR - DAY
Roxy barks happily and licks Morgan’s face, prancing in the back seat.
SCOTTY
Look, we came all this way! What’s another nine miles, right? If a couple gay guys and a dog can’t lose a tail in Vegas—
Roxy barks again.
SCOTTY
It’s an expression! Come on, are you telling me you don’t want to cruise the Strip? Just to see? It’s only, like, four miles long!
Only then, of course, they ran into bumper-to-bumper traffic and decided to valet park in order to continue evading their pursuers on foot.
“Looks like we’re going back to the aquarium,” Drew said, swiping on the tablet to turn the page.
Steve nudged his foot and didn’t move away afterward. “Just for you.”
Drew ducked his head, pretending to examine the script closer. “We’re going to get some great visuals from this. Carol is going to kiss you.” Their DP had a lot of talent but had only worked on a handful of low-budget series, the most recent of which was just canceled. She’d be so excited to get her artsy little hands on these challenges. Drew thought about the transition from “Vegas” sunshine to a blue-lit aquarium scene and smiled.
“You think?”
