Why does the show need another cast member? And more specifically, why does it need anotherhotcast member? I really hope Cabot's not here to replace any of the other guys. Being the oldest, I tend to slip into big-brother mode and am super protective of them. I will not let shit like that slide.
"Well, well, well…" Cabot's ocean blues sparkle as he drifts over to me. "And who do we have here if not the meanest, baddest vet on the block, Mr. Scooter Burns."
"That'sDr. Burns," I correct, and judging by the smirk on Cabot's ridiculously handsome face, I walked right into that one.
With close-shaved blond hair and blue eyes, he's got the quintessential all-American jock look down pat. A tiny turtle tattoo to the right of his washboard abs is the edgiest thing about him. Apart from his actual abs, that is, which look like they've never met a block of cheese they couldn't handle.
"My apologies,doctor." He walks around me, slowly and in ridiculously close range, which is a super weird thing to do in real life but will play well on-screen. Have to hand it to him, for someone with no TV experience, he's playing his part perfectly.
When he's back in front of me again, he drops his pointer finger onto my exposed shoulder and makes a sizzling hiss. "Did I just get…burned?"
I grit my teeth, determined not to give him any sort of reaction, which is what he's baiting me for. First I played right into his hands with his opening remark, and now he's using one of my catchphrases against me. This kid isreallysmart.
That's when it hits me like a pup doing a post-poop zoomie. Cabot Ledger isn't gunning for any of the other guys' spots—he's here to takemine.
2
Cabot
"All right, everyone, thank you for joining me today." I bring my hands into a prayer position in front of my chest, bow my head, and pause, letting the camera zoom in nice and close on my tanned arms, which are popping like crazy in myKUWTVtank top. Custom-made, of course. "Now, humans, let's get into a wide stance, really earth yourself into the ground in this beautiful park that we're in on this sunny Los Angeles morning, and doggos, let's get those tails wagging."
I hear a groan to my right and grin. Scooter Burns isn't buying my shtick. I could tell he didn't like me from the moment we met last week. My mom would describe him as the type of person who wears his heart on his sleeve, and his face was firmly set toI do not like the new guy.
My one and only job, the sole reason I've been brought in to shake season six up, is to get Scooter Burns to hate me, and so far, my mission is on track. I just have to keep it up for one season, make enough money to pay for my brother's medical bills, and then I'll be able to help Mom out and get that sleazy producer, Riff Kruger, out of my life once and for all.
I've never had a one-night stand in my life, and of course the first time I do, it's with a fucked-up maniac who is now blackmailing me.
I guide the six ladies, two guys, and eight adorable doggos through the rest of the beginner doga—dog yoga—routine.
"Cut! That was great. Take five, everyone," the director calls out after a few minutes.
I join Scooter by the snack table laid out under a wide jacaranda tree and help myself to a turkey wrap.
"Having fun?" I ask.
"Couldn't be having more fun if I tried," he shoots back, lifting an apple Danish. My job in the scene is to lead the class, and his is to deal with any naughty dogs who might play up. He wasthrilledwhen we got the assignment this morning, his face so tight the muscles around his eyes pinched into hard little lines.
He wears his heart on his sleeve by showing every emotion on his face. And what a captivating face it is. Too bad the only emotions I'm drawing out of him are anger and irritation, but it's the role I've been assigned, so what can I do?
"Are you sure about that?" I eye the pastry then pat my stomach. Myflatstomach.
He lets out an irritated huff, his eyes sharpening as they glare at me. "There's more to life than washboard abs. But I guess you wouldn't know that being, what, two years out of high school?"
"I'm twenty-six, thank you very much."
"So youjustfinished vet school?"
"Correct."
He scoffs but drops the Danish and picks up a protein bar instead, tearing the wrapper open with his teeth. It sucks that I've only been brought in to stir the pot and piss Scooter off. I've had the biggest crush on him since the show started five years ago. He's outspoken but fair, funny, charming, and totally the kind of guy I'm into looks-wise.
The thing about LA is that you're constantly surrounded by perfect-looking people. Give me real over perfect any day of the week. Scooter is both cute and quirky, a combo that drives me wild, with big ears that hang low on the sides of his face, a well-kept bushy beard, thick, unruly hair I’d kill to run my fingers through, and hazel eyes that can go from playful to intense in a nanosecond, which I've witnessed firsthandmultipletimes already.
We chew in silence, and as I steal a sideways glance at him, I wonder if he already knows his fate or if the producers are going to spring his departure on him the way they did my arrival.
I'm what's called a wild card, brought in at the last minute to shake things up. Being a reality TV junkie, I know the tricks of the trade.
If only I'd been smarter with Riff.
