Scared Scriptless (12 page)

“Well, knock me down and steal my teeth!” My dad comes bounding out of the front door and sweeps me into a bear hug. He bellows back toward the house, “Maddy’s home!” He lets me go and turns to Craig, who’s awkwardly watching this embrace. “So, Maddy, are you going to introduce us?”

“Yes, Dad. This is Craig. Craig, I want you to meet my father, Jack Carson.”

“Pleased to meet you, Jack.” Craig steps in and shakes his hand. One of my dad’s favorite ways to judge a guy is by his handshake. He loves to tell the story about how he knew not to trust some banker in Sacramento who was later splashed all over the local papers caught in a fraud scheme. “His handshake was weaker than a chipmunk in the winter,” Dad would chortle every time he retold the story. I can’t read his face so I’m not sure whether Craig passed or not. I can’t read my dad’s face before we’re all heading into the living room to join my mom, who’s still wiping her hands on a dish towel as she comes out of the kitchen with Mike.

“Craig, we’ve heard so much about you,” my mom lies by way of hello. She brushes a quick kiss on my cheek, but it doesn’t even slow her down on her way over to Craig. This is beyond embarrassing. I realize now I should’ve been bringing random guys up here every weekend for the last ten years to immunize my parents to this. Instead, since Craig is the first, he’s getting this full-on alien treatment.

Craig makes small talk with my parents while Mike stays mostly silent. My mom finally gets us on track for the evening. “Dear, why don’t you and Maddy make drinks for everyone? We can continue this conversation out back.”

“Are you going to be making a round of Waxy Sours?” Craig laughs. “Maddy told me about them. I was hoping to try one.”

“Waxy Sours. Coming right up.” My dad is thrilled. Mike groans and my mom chuckles, leading the way outside.

As my brother slides the screen door shut behind him, he looks at me and mouths the words “suck-up.” I stick out my tongue at him. Sometimes that’s the only way to handle a brother. Craig is clearly good at this meeting-the-parents thing. It’s nice watching him listen so intently to my dad, who is showing him how to make the drink. And when he raises his glass and smiles, toasting me before taking his first sip, my cheeks get pink. I’ve forgotten how nice it feels to have a guy in your life. I could get used to this.

We get settled with our drinks around the red wooden picnic table with requisite wobbly benches. The charcoal is preheating, making the whole backyard smell delicious.

“So how are you liking Wolf County, Craig?” my mom asks. “Not what you’re used to in LA, I’m sure.”

My mom is the queen of easy social chitchat. She is utterly incapable of feeling awkward. It’s a gift I wish I inherited.

“It’s beautiful here. Maddy took me to see the mountain. I’m sure it’s amazing with snow.”

“Well, we think it’s amazing all year.” Mike obviously did not get his conversational skills from our mom. I kick him under the table.

“Of course we do, dear,” Mom steps in smoothly and covers. “The snow is what the tourists know and, we rely on it for their business. But the locals are a bit sensitive. We like to think it’s just as nice in the summer as the winter.”

Craig takes my mom’s olive branch and runs with it. “I didn’t mean it like that… it’s incredible now too.” He shoots me a
help me
look.

“We only had time to check out the lodge and look around. We’re going to maybe go for a hike tomorrow and go into town. And I’m hoping Brian will organize a trip to the hot springs or something.” I say this casually, as if I don’t have a specific list of exactly what we’re doing minute by minute all weekend. It’s been tough narrowing it down. We only have two days, so the list in my notebook looks something like:

Must Do

Ski lodge

Hot springs

Pete’s Tavern

Maybe

Gordon’s taxidermy

Hike the mountain

See the lake

If There’s Time

Go to art walk (all the local vendors showcase their wares in the town square)

“Sounds like you have a busy schedule planned. No time to relax and actually enjoy it,” Dad says.

“Dear, I’m sure Maddy just wants to make sure Craig gets all the best Wolf County has to offer.” Mom turns to Craig. “And that’s just it. In the winter, there is amazing skiing, but in the summer, there are so many things to do. And it sounds like Maddy is getting it all in on this weekend.”

“Yeah, a regular Wally World trip,” Mike pipes in, knowing the Chevy Chase reference will egg me on. Normally any mention of the movie
Vacation
sends me into an extended movie-quoting frenzy.

“It’s going to be great.” Loftily, I ignore Mike’s dig. “It’s like you said, Mom, I just want to make sure I hit all the high points for Craig.” I take a breath… this is sort of the opportunity I’ve been waiting for.

“Because actually, Craig and I aren’t just here for fun.” I reflexively take Craig’s hand. “We wanted to talk to you about something. Something… big.” I pause and look at Craig, hoping he’ll jump in. When he doesn’t, I continue nervously. “Well, Craig keeps telling me how much he loves my…”

“OH!” my mom gasps, and puts both hands over her mouth as I stop mid-thought to stare at her, wondering what happened.

“Well now, who would’ve thought… this… it’s so sudden, honey.” My dad sort of gruffly puts his arm around my mom. I look at them. What the hell are they talking about? Mike is just staring at me blankly. Craig looks like a deer in the headlights and slides his hand out from mine. Then it all clicks. I turn bright red in a nanosecond.

“Mrs. Carson, um, we’re not… That’s not what Maddy was going to say,” Craig says gently. “I mean, not that I wouldn’t, it’s just that I, we… that is…”

“MOM! Oh my GOD! This is so embarrassing. Craig and I are just dating!” Awkwardly, I get up from the bench. Since I’m squeezed between Craig and Mike, I have to twist my knees to slip out. Suddenly I’m suffocating.

“I meant that we’re here for work. GOD.” I run my hands through my hair and cover my face as I pace. “We are working on an idea for HCP. My idea, actually. That’s why we’re here. But Craig thinks it’s a really good one… to see if maybe Wolf County would be a good location for a reality show.”

So maybe I shouldn’t have just blurted it out like that. I certainly had planned to ease into the subject and softball it to them. But under duress, it just all came pouring out. Craig steps into the awkward silence. As he charmingly describes the concept of the Wolf County reality show to my parents, I see why Craig is so good at what he does. He is definitely in his comfort zone, painting a picture of the best-case scenario, of how amazing this show could be, bringing the pitch alive.

“That sounds so interesting, Craig. Really.” My mom responds with genuine enthusiasm. “But do you really think people in this town are going to want to be on TV? I mean, no one here is like the Kardinians.”

“Kardashians, Mom.” I correct her because Craig is clearly too taken aback by her naïveté to explain. Mike covers his laugh with a cough.

“Well, the idea is a bit different than shows like
The Kardashians
,” Craig says. “But it is in the docudrama category. From the way Maddy has described it, there are so many fascinating people here who would make very compelling TV. Just the folks I met today… Harriet? Henry? They are so great. And I imagine, like other tourist towns, the economic downturn has been hard on Wolf. I think audiences could really get behind a town banding together to get through these tough times. There’s lots of precedent to prove that being a part of a show like this could really help the community by driving tourism.”

I see Dad catch Mom’s eye and know this particular angle is really resonating. Craig continues. “That’s the best part! As we go around pitching this idea to people, we have real evidence to back it up. Shows like this have helped make the people on them very successful.”

No question my parents and even my brother were stopped in their tracks by Craig’s persuasive case. The truth is, even if my
parents were reluctant, they really don’t have much of a choice but to give this a try, given what it could mean financially. As my dad grills burgers and we tuck into dinner, the conversation turns to specifics. Even Mike can’t help himself and jumps in, asking questions and suggesting ideas. It’s not a slam-dunk, but it seems the Carsons are on board with the show. Although the jury is still out in terms of what they think of Craig as boyfriend material. I’m a little relieved that they are so focused on the reality show and Craig as TV producer, not as a future son-in-law.

“I’ll tell you what,” my dad says suddenly, taking a bite of potato salad. “It means a lot to me that Hogan is behind you on this. He’s smarter than a pocket on a shirt, and he cares about Wolf.”

My stomach drops. Of course my parents would bring up Hogan!
Shit, shit, shit.
This is not how I wanted Craig to find out. Then my mom pipes in, “I agree, honey. I can’t wait to ask him about it. If this show has a chance, it’ll be because Hogan is a part of it and the people here respect him.”

Craig has stopped eating and has a confused smile on his face.

“Yeah, so, Craig, my parents actually know Hogan,” I begin casually, hoping he won’t make a big thing out of this in front of my family.

“He’s been coming up to Wolf since Maddy was a kid. He never mentioned it?” my mom asks. Actually, it is surprising that Hogan didn’t say anything when Craig explained our idea for a show in Wolf.

“Oh, well, I am surprised
you
didn’t mention it, Maddy,” Craig says.

I detect a note of hurt in his voice. My parents look perplexed.
Damage control, Maddy.

“Well, it’s not a secret exactly. I don’t like to mention our
connection since I don’t want people to assume that it helps my career at all… because it doesn’t.”

“That’s true, our Maddy earned her success fair and square by being so talented,” my dad pipes in, literally patting me on the back.

I’m still trying to decipher Craig’s expression when suddenly he breaks into a wide grin.

“I totally understand why you didn’t say anything, Maddy. But this is good, this is very good.” He turns to my parents. “It’s good to know how much people around here respect Hogan. I can’t wait to tell him all about the great material we found this weekend. Would you mind not saying anything about this to him in the meantime? We don’t want to give him any spoilers until we have our reel ready to go. Pitching is all about the ‘wow’ factor.”

Later that night, after Craig helps my mom with the dishes and we strategize about who we should talk to about being on the show, I’m lying on the same single bunk bed I slept in when I was eight and breathing several deep sighs of relief. Craig is sleeping on the pullout sofa bed in the living room snuggled under an afghan with reindeer on it. All in all, I feel like the night went pretty well.

Then I get up and go to the bathroom. I hear a hushed snatch of conversation through my parents’ bedroom door. “I don’t know, Jack. He’s nice enough I guess, but he just doesn’t seem right for Maddy. He’s a little… slick, don’t you think?”

Abruptly, I turn around and pad as silently as possible back to my room with my mom’s words reeling in my head. I don’t need to hear any more. I guess the jury is in, and the verdict isn’t good.

It was Craig’s idea to have breakfast at Crazy Eights Café. Clearly he knows without my having to say that this first impression is key. We have only one crack at getting the town excited about this show, so we’d better do it right. And starting the day at Crazy Eights is a good way to begin mixing in with the locals. It’s a small town, and my parents own the ski resort that for the most part sustains the community, so everyone will be talking about what I’m doing, and with whom, by lunch. By the time we make our way to the art walk this afternoon, everyone will have turned out, eager to talk to us and hear more about the show since no doubt word is already out. Having grown up with the small-town rumor mill, I’m used to it and it doesn’t really bother me. And for all Craig’s LA attitude and clothes, he grew up in a small town, too, so he gets it. Even if he did cut his chicken off the bone with a knife and fork last night, as Mike looked on, horrified.

I can’t help but keep replaying my mom’s words from last night in my head.
“He’s a little slick.”
Ugh. I totally trust my parents’ opinion—maybe too much—and the fact that this was my mom’s first impression isn’t good. That said, we have twenty-four more hours to win her over.

I smile brightly at Craig, who is gamely scraping off the cheese he asked to be held from his bacon and egg plate. “I can’t wait for you to check out the Gordons’ attic. They make Norman Bates’s hobby look normal.”

“I love the quirkiness. We could show what goes into making it and how much they sell stuff for. The negotiation part. A little
Pawn Stars
meets
Duck Dynasty
. Networks love that.”

“Well, who knows how much of it they’re selling these days, with the tourism down. My mom mentioned that they move some of it on eBay too.”

“That’s not a big deal. We can get some people in there, produce some ‘customers.’ ” He’s scanning his e-mails as we talk. I’m taking notes about our plan for the day.

“Maddy.” Craig looks up all of a sudden, a serious look on his face. “I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me you’re family friends with Hogan. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“It’s not really the kind of thing you just casually toss into a conversation, you know? I mean, I thought about telling you when we started dating.” I hasten to correct myself. “I wanted to tell you. It just always seemed weird to bring it into the conversation. Hogan and I try to keep our personal and work worlds separate, and he knows better than to try and interfere in my career. I want to earn it, including this show. I hope he isn’t giving it the go-ahead as some sort of favor to me or my parents. They wouldn’t want that.”

“I’m sure that’s not it at all, Maddy. I’m telling you straight up, it’s a good idea. No doubt about it. And when the network falls all over themselves to buy eight episodes up front, you’ll see what I mean.” I nod in agreement as I chew. God, I missed these waffles.

“Hey.” A weird look crosses Craig’s face just as I am swallowing a huge bite of buttery goodness. “Have you mentioned to him that we’re seeing each other?”

“Oh, no.” Flustered, I put my fork down. “I would have told you if I had. I mean, at some point it will come up, right? But no, I haven’t mentioned it. In fact, what should we say? I guess we should come up with a game plan.”

“Yeah, we should. Can I think about it?” Craig wipes his mouth and drops his napkin on his cleaned plate. “That was delicious. What time do we need to be at the Gordons’?”

Okay. That seemed like a weird subject shift, but I decide to go with it. I’m sure Craig’s as worried about awkward office politics as I am. We’ll figure it out. I put it from my mind on the way to the Gordons’.

“Darling girl! Come in, come in!” Merry probably hasn’t bought new clothes since 1978. Her Hawaiian-print housecoat fits in perfectly with the avocado-green-trimmed furniture.

Craig walks in, wide-eyed. It’s clear he doesn’t know where to look first. I glance around the place, seeing it from his perspective. It really is appalling. And since my last visit, it’s starting to look a bit like one of those houses in
Hoarders
. There are stacks and stacks of magazines, books, and things I can’t even identify all over what used to serve as a dining room.

“Your parents filled me in on your young man here. Greg, is it?”

“Craig, ma’am. Maddy’s told me all about your incredible collection of taxidermy. Since we were in town, I begged to come have a look for myself.” Craig’s charm has Mrs. Gordon blushing as she oohs and aahs us to the garage.

“It all started as another one of Walt’s crazy hobbies,” she explains as we navigate our way through the cluttered kitchen and pantry. “He’s done it all, I swear. At one point I felt we were in the navy what with all the model boats everywhere. And then he started fixing up old cars. He never could get them running, though.”

We are now walking along the outside of the house, my parents’ house visible just through the trees, headed to the garage. Merry is still talking. “He’s always loved hunting; he worships those animals, you know. So the taxidermy has his heart, not
just his head.” She is now speaking in a stage whisper, so we both lean in. Given our true reasons for being here, we don’t want to miss a word of this backstory.

“Here it is!” With that Ed McMahon–worthy introduction, she presses the remote control and with a mechanical groan the door starts its slow but steady ascent.

Since I know what the door is going to reveal, I watch Craig for his first-timer’s reaction. Even prepped with how gory this stuff is, I watch the sight transform his features, and then witness him struggling to replace his genuine reaction with a more socially acceptable smile. I can’t help but giggle as each new creature he fixates on causes his polite mask to slip.

“Walt, Maddy’s brought her beau here. They want the tour!” Merry trills.

“Well, you came to the right place. Maddy, girl.” Walt squeezes me quickly, reeking of the chemicals used for curing, and moves on to shake Craig’s hand. “Nice to meet you, I’m Walt Gordon.”

“Craig Williams, sir. Pleasure to meet you. I’m not sure how much the Carsons explained to you about our visit.”

“Very little, really. It was actually quite confusing.” Walt wipes his hands on an oily cloth and turns his full attention to Craig. “Something about a new show?”

Merry pipes up, grabbing my arm. “Honey, are you leaving your job? You know we are hooked on
The Wrong Doctor
now. You can’t just leave! Billy Fox needs you! I still have those signed DVDs you gave us. Right, Walt?”

I laugh at her theatrics, as she intended me to. Merry and I both know she would continue to watch Billy Fox no matter what I did with the rest of my life.

“Don’t worry, guys, I’m not leaving.”

“Oh, what a relief.” Merry sighs.

“But Craig and I are working on a new show idea for Hogan.”
They may not be as close to Hogan as my parents are, but the Gordons have met him several times over the years. Everyone in Wolf is very proud of their connection to Hogan Chenny.

“Your mother mentioned something like that,” Walt says as he puts a calming hand on Merry’s shoulder. “Let her explain, dear.”

“Actually, Craig should explain.” I don’t mean to pass the baton, but at this point Craig is way more experienced at this kind of thing. And he’s better at salesmanship than I could ever hope to be.

Merry and Walt turn expectant looks toward Craig, and like any good performer in front of an audience, Craig lights up.

“Well, actually, Maddy deserves the credit for this idea. She’s done nothing but rave about Wolf County. As I found myself asking a million questions, becoming more and more interested in life here, we quickly realized it would be a great location. That you all would be perfect people to star in a show.” It isn’t the first time Craig’s told this revised story of how the show idea came about, and it’s starting to make me uncomfortable. I make a mental note to bring it up to him when we’re alone.

“Who? What people?”

“You! The people of Wolf County!” Craig enthuses. “Maddy’s been showing me around, and there are so many great people, but honestly, I feel like you, your business… you would be a major selling point. Please tell me you’d be willing to participate. I really think it would make such a huge difference.”

Merry and Walt exchange dumbfounded looks. Their reaction is exactly what would make them so perfect for the show. I look at Craig with an “I told you so” smile. They are exactly what the show needs.

“Look, Mr. and Mrs. Gordon,” Craig continues. “I don’t need an answer now. Please take your time and think it over. But if
you wouldn’t mind, I would love a tour of your… your…” Craig hesitates for the first time.

“Shop?” Walt jumps in. “Of course. The missus and I don’t jump into a mud puddle without discussing first, so you’ll have to give us some breathing room on that one. But I’d sure love to show you my beauties since you’re here.” Walt begins walking Craig through the wildlife in various stages of embalming. Craig unobtrusively uses his Canon camera to video Walt’s explanations, and perhaps it says it all that Walt doesn’t even hesitate when the camera comes out. He keeps talking as confidently as ever. This is going to work.

After we say our good-byes to the Gordons with promises to meet for pie later, Craig and I are back in the car, driving to Echo Peak Park, which marks the finish line of Matthew’s twenty-four-hour mountain bike race.

“Matthew and his buddy George do this race every year. They’re both insane,” I explain to Craig.

“Literally twenty-four hours without stopping?”

“Well, that’s why you do it in teams, up to four guys, so one guy is always racing. But if you need to stop to pee, or rest or whatever, you can. It’s just going to cut into your lap total.”

“You’re right. It sounds nuts.” Craig wryly shakes his head. As we pull up to the parking area, I think that now would be a good time to talk to Craig about how the idea for Wolf was really mine. I have had to turn the other cheek too many times to do it again now. This isn’t a set, where I have to concede to the director or the producer. This is my baby, and I am discovering that there is a fire in my belly to protect not only my idea, but also the people I’m asking to be a part of it. Not to mention, common sense tells me that when it comes to pitching the town, I think everyone will feel better knowing that this all came from one of their own. But I don’t know how to bring it up without it being awkward. Not
for the first time, I wish I had my mom’s grace when it comes to these things. I’m trying to figure out how to say it as I pull into the dirt parking area. There are cars everywhere. “This many people participate in this?” he asks as we begin trolling the lanes looking for a place to park.

“Well, probably there are a lot of people here like us, to support a friend who’s doing the race.” Almost every car we pass is a 4x4, all coated in several layers of dirt. Our shiny rental car looks so out of place in the spot we found, half on the road, half on a dirt embankment. It’s squished between a mud-splattered pickup truck and a beat-up SUV with a bike rack loaded down with all sorts of bikes.

Craig locks the car as we start to walk away. The double chirp from the car makes me smile. “You’ve been in LA too long.”

Completely unaware, Craig looks at me. “What do you mean?”

“We don’t lock our cars here. I guess I just figured it was like that where you grew up too.”

“You’re saying I’m completely citified? Is that it?” Craig gets into the spirit of my teasing easily. As we approach the festivities, he takes my hand and squeezes it, which is nice. I squeeze back as we follow the crowds of onlookers to the finish line. It’s slow going as we keep bumping into people I know. Well, this is what we came here for, I concede as we engage in another long conversation with old friends of my parents who have done nothing but tell stories from Woodstock for as long as I can remember.

“Maddy.” I hear a deep voice and before I can even start to disengage myself from the Wentlys’ musical debate, we are cast in the literal and proverbial shadow of Moses. At six foot seven, his shoulders and chest leave one with the solid impression of a bull. He literally towers over us, though perhaps as a way to balance out his size, his voice is little above a murmur. Although the Tongan native is incredibly gentle as I wrap my
arms partially around him in greeting, my feet leave the ground in a bear hug that would probably intimidate the bear. His low rumbling chuckle as he sets me down sounds like the beginning of an earthquake.

“Craig, this is Moses. Moses Finau, meet my—Craig.” I can excuse my almost-slip as I am still catching my breath. Craig has either truly learned the art of the poker face by working in Hollywood, or he deserves major nerves-of-steel credit for reaching out his hand and keeping his unassuming smile in place.

“Nice to meet you, Moses.”

“Likewise,” Moses responds politely. It’s weird, but all of a sudden, I am seeing people so familiar to me, people I’ve known my whole life, with all-new eyes. I can’t help but size everyone up, trying to objectively judge their perspective as characters to include in the show. And with that framework, Moses may as well glow like he’s been dipped in TV gold.

Craig is chatting him up casually, as if there weren’t two hundred pounds of muscle between them. But it’s Craig doing the talking, dissecting the racecourse as well as a color analyst on ESPN.

“You must’ve done some sports growing up? Football?” Craig has a crick in his neck looking up at Moses.

“A little football. Mostly some wrestling,” Moses replies modestly. Yeah, “some wrestling.” In fact, Moses was an incredibly popular wrestler in his day. His character generated lots of ticket sales and even his own merchandise.

“I would’ve taken you by his bakery in town, but the line is always out the door.”

“Really?” Craig is clearly intrigued, and since I haven’t seen him eat a carb yet, I don’t think it’s because of the sweets. “You run a successful bakery now?” I can practically see his wheels turning.

“You’re welcome in my shop anytime. I would be in the doghouse for a week if LeAnn heard that you were in town, Maddy, and I didn’t drag you over there to say hi.”