Cabot
"And cut. Perfect. Stand by while we reset cameras. Don’t go far."
An assistant hurries over to secure the heavily pregnant Ragdoll cat Scooter and I have been examining. We're doubling up to shoot some clinic scenes together, and honestly, I'm struggling.
It's been months since my freakout in Scooter's bedroom, but it's still playing on my mind, and I have a sneaking suspicion it is on his, too.
He hasn't brought it up, but he doesn't need to.
His face is doing all the talking. I can see the questions in his eyes whenever he looks at me a little too long.
But it's like he can tell I don't want to broach the topic again, so he stays quiet. I guess this is what respecting a person's limits looks like.
If only Riff would get the memo. He's on set again and hovering around, pissing everyone off.
"You okay?" Scooter asks from across the exam table. "You seem a little…off."
I glance over at Riff who's pulled the director aside for what looks like a serious talk. "Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry. Had a bad sleep."
His hazel eyes practically scream Talk to me but he simply nods and chews his lip. "Okay. I've got some natural sleeping pills if you want them."
"Thanks, but I—"
"My office, now." Riff appears out of nowhere, glowering at me.
"Excuse me?"
"I need to speak with you. Now!"
The last thing I want to do is be alone with Riff. I've managed to avoid it all season, and I don't intend on starting now.
"What's up?"
"Your performance today. This is the third cat you've examined and not one pussy innuendo. We need to talk."
"But the director said not to wander—"
"Forget about him. He can wait. My office. Right now."
I close my eyes and exhale deeply, my mind racing to come up with a possible out, but let's be honest, my options of getting out of this are severely limited.
"I'm coming, too."
My eyes spring open to find Scooter death staring the fuck out of Riff.
"This doesn't concern you, Burns," Riff brushes him off.
"Oh, really? So you're not going to scheme up more ways to make me look old and weak and stupid? I know what's going on here. Eddie told me everything."
Riff sneers. "Oh, did he now?"
"Yeah. He did." Scooter moves in closer, tilting his chin menacingly at Riff.
Riff shakes his head then turns those beady eyes my way. "You don't know everything, Burns," he says, and the threat in his voice, clearly aimed at me and not at Scooter, sends a cold chill down my spine.
Thankfully, though, Scooter's intervention works, and Riff pisses off, saving me from being alone with the sleazeball.
I wait until half an hour after wrapping up for the day just like I did the first time before quietly making my way down the hallway and tapping on Scooter's door.
"It's open," he calls out.
I let myself in. He's already in bed, several veterinarian magazines spread out around him.
"Never knew you wore glasses," I say, which is dumb but the only thing I can come up with.
"I'm old, remember?" he teases, taking them off and resting them on one of the magazines. Then he frowns at me. "I assume you didn't come here just to make fun of me."
"No. I came here to say thank you for saving me with Riff today."
His frown deepens. "That guy's such an asshole."
I wonder if Scooter knows just how big of an asshole. I motion to the seating area. "Mind if we talk?"
"Not at all. Can you turn around first please?"
"O-kay?"
Scooter chuckles. "I need to put some clothes on. Wasn't expecting company."
"Oh, right." I spin around to give the guy some privacy. "Thank you for saving me from witnessing your old, shriveled penis."
"And they lament that chivalry is dead," he says as the sheets rustle behind me. "Okay, me and my old, shriveled penis are decent."
I turn back and almost choke on my breath. How does Scooter manage to make a black cotton Henley onesie hotter than the skimpy Speedos we're forced to parade around in? The guy is a fucking dream…but I'm not here to ogle him. I'm here to express my gratitude for what he did.
He takes the armchair this time, so I settle on the two-seater.
"Thanks for stepping in like that with Riff," I repeat. "I, uh, really don't get on well with him."
"Very few people do. Heard his parents tried to give him back to the hospital, but it was too late."
I smile. Then I think about what Riff did—and is still doing to me—and my smile fades. I've been weighing up whether to let Scooter in on the truth. I mean, I've already told him the real reason why I've been cast on the show even though he knew that already.
All the cast and crew—with one notable exception—are wonderful, but I feel something deeper with Scooter. Something that goes past friendly castmates and into territory that makes me truly like him.
And trust him.
"I'm going to ask you something," he says slowly, and I instantly feel in my gut that he's building up to something big. "I could be way, way off. And if I am, I'll apologize unreservedly. But there's something I need to know."
The dim glow catches the tension in his face, shadows carving along his jaw as his eyes fix on me with a steady, unblinking focus.
"Okay. What is it?"
"Has Riff done anything to you?" Our eyes meet, his churning with intensity. "Anything…sexual?"