The Rough Grind
I knew the day would be a disaster. Standing with a rubber chicken in my hand I know I shouldn’t have gone to The Grind. Matthew always says that Sally is welcome there, but it’s just not a good place for a dog, even one as well trained as she is. It started with making a snide comment at the musician out front. Ever since I started frequenting the place, he’s been there. He wasn’t a beggar, he was too clean for that, but I could never bring myself to an introduction or ask for his name during the few words we would sometimes exchange before I went in. I am sure it was all business for him anyway. If he was kind to patrons of The Grind there would be a better chance of guilting them into giving him some change. I didn’t like his tactics, even though I am sure they were the first principles of business and everyone in the world used them. I just didn’t like it.
‘Good morning.’
‘Hi,’ I said trying to avoid his gaze.
‘Lovely dog you have there.’
‘Thanks,’ I said, while giving Sally a quick pat on the back before I reached to open the door.
‘I’ve always liked the idea of having a dog to share my outdoor stage with me.’ I could see him with a ropey mutt beside him.
‘Well, you’d have to properly take care of one. And not just have it for entertainment value,’ I said.
‘Yeah,’ he replied and looked at me with a mixture of affrontedness and disbelief. ‘I’d have to train it.’
‘I doubt it’d be as well trained as Sally,’ I cast over my shoulder while I walked into the café.
It must be bad karma or something. I was rude to the musician who is just trying to earn a living like the rest of us and now the universe was punishing me. It was only a few seconds, but enough to upset my day, my week, more than that. It was too busy in The Grind. It was one of those days on which it seemed that the whole studio building had emptied out into the hippest nearest coffee shop in town. The Grind obviously was doing well with all the producers and second-rate actors playing their game of see and be seen. And I was only too happy for Matt until someone stepped back to dodge him and his full tray of drinks, and nudged the bowl of water Matt had brought Sally half an hour earlier, slopping half of it over the side. ‘Oh, blast,’ I said aloud before I could stop myself. And stop myself I should have too, when I picked up the bowl with the remaining water and walked to the counter to deposit it there before some other loser would step into it.
When I arrived back at my table, I checked that no one has stepped on Sally in my absence when I noticed that my bag was gone from beside her. This time I swore properly and looked around to see it if I could spot the thief. Right as my eye fell on my bag leaving the café, I threw a fiver on the table and scooped up Sally’s leash and my wallet, phone and car keys, which fortunately were not in my bag. Making my way through the crowd, I realised it had everything. My uniform, Sally’s blanket and work items, and my work planner. I didn’t even know which studio Sally and I had to be at after lunch. It was all in there. Sally would be okay without her own blanket as long as I could arrange for a towel or something, but I definitely would need some of my whistles if she were to do a good job. I needed that bag back. ‘Excuse me ! Coming through ! Please, MOVE !!’ I shouted as I pushed people aside to get to the door as fast as I could. Sally and I plunged out of the door, only to find the musician looking at me in polite amusement. ‘Crowded in there ?’
‘Yeah. Hey, did you just see someone leave with a black bag ?’
‘There were a lot of people going in and out,’ he said unhelpfully.
‘Yeah, they were about this tall with a greyish coat, maybe black or dark blue,’ I urged while glancing around for the thief who was nowhere to be seen.
‘Sorry, puppet, not that stood out to me,’ he said with a pitying look.
‘Thanks,’ I said angrily while I walked to my car. ‘Just my luck.’
Sally stared up at the chicken in my hand while I looked at the assortment of whistles and clickers the shop carried. ‘Alright, have it then,’ I said while Sally caught it adeptly with her head curled back over her back to compensate for my bad pitch. As I walked to the register, I heard a mandolin tune outside that made me flash back to earlier this morning. Surely that wasn’t the same musician again ? Didn’t he have to stay on his own turf ? ‘Sit. Stay,’ I commanded Sally to make sure the shop girl didn’t think I was lifting, while I made my way outside. ‘Hey, doll face. Forgot you are supposed to be in studio 7 in half an hour ?’ It was Steve, the producer of the movie Sally was hired to work, with about the largest grin on his face I had ever seen there.
‘No, but it’s good of you to remind me of the number. Some jerk in The Grind stole my bag and it has my planner in it,’ I said, trying not to let show what else I wanted to do to the thief when I got the sole of my shoe on him.
‘I heard. Ted told me, while we were bargaining for his mandolin.’
‘Ted ?’ I said, while for the first time I noticed the musician’s mandolin in Steve’s right hand.
‘Yeah, I offered him 50 bucks to borrow his mandolin for half an hour, but he made me pay my whole wallet minus my driver’s licence. I don’t think he’d expect me to return it otherwise.’
‘What ?’ I asked, trying to make sense of the conversation.
‘You know, the mandolin,’ Steve said, holding it up. ‘I figured a serenade would be the only way for you not to be mad at me.’
‘A serenade ?’ I asked, having not made much headway.
‘Yeah, I waited for you across the street, expecting you to walk to the studio when you left The Rough. But you walked out, looked around and got in your car. By the time I realised my plan was backfiring, you had already driven off. When I went through your bag, I realised it had all the stuff you needed for filming. So I called my assistant for your expenses’ file to check where you had bought all your work gear from. ‘Cause I figured you’d go there to pick up new.’
‘Smart man. So, wait, you stole my bag ?’ I asked when it dawned on me.
‘Not stole. I didn’t steal it. It was a lure. I needed to talk to you. Outside of the studio and be honest, The Rough is practically one of the studio offices but with better coffee.’
‘Why did you need to steal my bag to talk to me away from the studio ?’ I asked, getting suspicious. ‘Are you firing me and not man enough to own it in front of the team ?’
‘No, no, the opposite in fact. I know you love your job and all, but casting told me you had originally read for one of the parts,’ Steve said, causing me to swallow hard. That was something I wanted everyone to know least of all. How the dog trainer wanted to be an actor. ‘The team got in a rough spot with one of our supporting. To make a long story short, it didn’t end well. And frankly, we don’t have enough time to re-audition. We are going to have to pool from people we have already seen. So I said to casting that I liked you and that blond dog of yours.’
‘Sally.’
‘Yeah, that one. So, okay, I didn’t want to offer you the job in front of everyone. They’d think I’m not being professional. I can’t have that.’ Steve looked contemplative.
‘You’re offering me a job ?’ I asked, incredulously.
‘Well, you already have a job,’ Steve corrected me. ‘I’m offering you a second chance, so to say. This time without that ridiculous whistle. Come on, I’ll give you a lift to the studio. I need to trade a mandolin for my wallet.’
I grinned and stomped Steve on the foot. ‘Jerk.’
The Rough Grind by LunaLouise is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.0 UK: England & Wales License.