Wahoo thought: Here we go.

“She weighs six hundred and twenty pounds,” his father said.

Derek chuckled. “No worries, mate. We’ll hire a crane and a truck.”

Mickey Cray stepped close to Derek. “Alice doesn’t travel,” he said. “You want Alice? Shoot the scene here.”

Years earlier, Wahoo’s father had constructed a small but convincing Everglades set at one end of the property. There was a lush pool ten feet deep, complete with pickerelweed and water lilies, for staging underwater scenes.

Derek didn’t want to hear about it. “Save your pretty little lake for an air-freshener commercial.”

Mickey said, “If it’s good enough for Disney, it’s plenty good enough for you, mate.”

Wahoo worried that his father would say or do something so insulting that he’d lose the Expedition Survival! job even before it got started.

Raven Stark edged between the men. “What about the smaller gators?”

“They fit in the back of my pickup,” said Wahoo’s father. “They travel fine.”

Derek looked down at Alice, who was still asleep. “She’s the only one I want,” he declared.

Then he turned and stalked off.

In a stiff tone, Raven Stark said, “Mr. Cray, you signed a contract.”

“Which I intend to use as toilet paper-”

Wahoo cut in with a bluff: “Our lawyer looked at the contract. She said it won’t stick.”

Julie wasn’t really a lawyer yet, but it wouldn’t be long.

“Good luck finding another tame gator like Alice,” Mickey said.

Raven Stark bristled. “We paid you a deposit, remember? Eight hundred dollars.”

“Good luck finding that, too.”

Wahoo volunteered to show the fake Everglades set to Derek so he could see for himself how authentic it looked. Raven walked to the car to get him, but she returned alone.

“He’s on the phone,” she reported soberly, “with our producers in California.”