Scared Scriptless (13 page)

“My brother buys all our bread for the mountain café from Moses. I used to do the pickups first thing in the morning. Nothing smells better than their kitchen at four a.m.”

“I always thought you offered to do the pickup for the chocolate croissant you would sweet-talk MJ into giving you.” Moses laughs as I blush.

“He was such a cute kid. I would love to hear how you all are doing these days. In fact, there’s something I would like to talk to you and LeAnn about, if you’ll be in the shop later.”

“Oh, I’m headed back there now. I promised the missus some of Denny’s Cajun-style peel-and-eat shrimp.” He holds up the to-go bag. “Gotta get it back while it’s still hot. Promise you’ll come by?”

“I wouldn’t miss it.” I reach up on my tiptoes, but he has to lean down more than a foot for me to plant a kiss on his cheek.

“So? What’s his backstory? I can tell he’s a treasure trove,” Craig comments.

“Wait till you meet his wife. Moses is six foot seven… LeAnn is barely five feet tall. She’s this tiny, delicate little red-haired firecracker. She definitely wears the pants in that family. They would be great for the show. Seriously. And Moses doesn’t just bake cookies and stuff. You should see what he can do. He makes the most beautiful French macarons; he bakes his own croissants; they do teatime at the bakery, and he makes these gorgeous delicate tea cakes and scones.” I am starting to salivate—not at the description of the delicacies Moses can create, but at how brilliant he will be for the TV audience. Every time we bump into someone, I get a hundred new ideas for the show. I can make this show great; I know it. I know this town, the people, better than
anyone else ever could. Is it crazy to think I could be executive producer?

“Craig, listen, this may seem out of left field, but I’ve been thinking…”

But the closer we get to the finish line, the more people are smushed in the narrow clearing where the race ends. Craig can barely hear me over all the shouts and cheering.

“Did you say something, babe?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, just turns back to keep pushing through the crowd. He finds us a spot at the ropes, but it’s clear this isn’t the right moment to bring up something that important. “We have to go secure things with Moses and his wife. Right? Who else should be on the A list?” he asks. I’m craning my neck but can’t see the pack of riders yet.

“Um, let me think about it.” Is now the right time to convince him I should be the person in charge, running the show on a day-to-day basis? If I’m going to prove to him I can be the show-runner, I need to learn to assess these people as objectively as he does. I ignore the knot in my stomach when a group of cute twentysomething girls near us start shrieking, “HERE THEY COME!” They must have bat radar because only after they’ve started cheering wildly do I see the tips of a few helmets coming toward us around the last dirt hill. I start shouting, too, and behind me Craig claps and yells.

The first group of guys comes pedaling around the last bend, a tight pack covered in mud. I can’t tell if Matthew is with them, so I just scream and shout until every last rider crosses the finish line. I grab hold of Craig and start pushing my way through the crowd toward where the riders have stopped and are pulling off their gear. Each rider has a pit crew, usually made up of their girlfriends who are pouring water down their shirts or handing them towels. I see a brunette in Daisy Duke shorts help pull off a rider’s protective vest and helmet. Then I see Matthew’s
dirt-streaked, smiling face. I tug on Craig and race toward him and his friends.

“Hi, you guys! Congratulations!” I scream at Matthew as he gets off his bike and takes a water bottle from Jen, his on-again, off-again girlfriend. He throws himself on the grass, still gulping in huge breaths.

“Matt! That was insane!” Jen hugs him giddily. Anyone can see how much she adores him. “I can’t believe you did that! How do you feel?” He raises his hand to give us the “okay” sign before letting it fall back to the ground. I can’t help but laugh.

“We’ll give you guys a minute to recover. You’re getting old, Matthew. You used to talk nonstop when you got off the bike. Meet us over by the food,” I say. He raises his hand again to flip me the bird as Craig and I head toward the main food and drink tents. Coming back up from the riders’ area has put us on the rise slightly above the park area and now we have perspective on the event, which causes Craig to stop short.

“Wow! This is quite a setup. Hold on a second.” Craig takes off the camera’s lens cap and records some panoramic video of the festivities.

“I know we were going to focus on the winter season, but the fall and summer are just as fun, really.”

It’s weird, looking at something I’ve seen a million times, and yet seeing it again for the first time. “Wolf does events like this practically every weekend. There’s always something going on and in terms of the show, there’s usually a lot of the same people. In fact, there’s a committee in the city council that focuses on arranging these events.”

“Yeah, you said it was a thing, but I didn’t really expect all this at a mountain bike race.”

“Any excuse to get people together. We have a triathlon, a biathlon, a river dash, canoe races, mud runs…”

“Shrimp toast, shrimp kabobs, shrimp soup…” The
Forrest Gump
quote is my only warning before my brother attacks me in a bear hug from behind—the show of affection offered only to cover me in mud from head to toe. Nothing new there.

“Ahhh!” I can’t help but shriek at the dirt and grime. “Matthew!”

Everyone is laughing as we engage in a full-on sibling tussle that I win. Admittedly, Matthew is probably a tad undernourished and weakened from the last twenty-four hours of exertion, but a sister knows when to press her advantage, and I jump up, victorious.

“Never mind the town, Maddy. I could make a show just about you and your crazy family.” Craig laughs as I brush my hair with my fingers. He kisses me on the lips as I am pulling my hair back into a ponytail. He lingers for a second, but pulls away before I get my fingers untangled from the hair tie.

Matt takes it all in with a smile. “All right, you two lovebirds, let’s go get something to eat so I can grill you properly, Craig.”

We sit at a picnic table with Matthew and a dozen or so of his friends, many of whom work at the ski lodge with Mike and our dad. We each have plates of food from several different restaurants around town; it’s the Wolf County version of tapas. I’m having the same peel-and-eat shrimp LeAnn Finau had been craving, while Craig had settled on short ribs. Between us are some pot stickers we share as we bring the group up to speed on our plan for the reality show. Matthew is predictably very excited about the show (and no doubt the starring role he is imagining for himself) and has been peppering Craig with suggestions, which has gotten a lot of others on board too. Pete the Third, aka Petey of Pete’s Tavern fame, is quiet the whole time, until he finally says with not a little attitude, “How do we know you’re not going to make us look bad? I know how you can make it seem like a fight
happened, when it wasn’t like that at all. How do I know you won’t make my dad’s bar seem all sleazy just to get people to watch the show?”

“Because I would never let that happen. Come on, Petey.” I’m aware that everyone has stopped talking to listen to this. “It’s me. Wolf County is my home. I would never do anything to hurt this town. I hope you know that.”

“Of course not. Petey didn’t mean that, did you?” Matthew can’t help but jump in. “Maddy is doing this to help the town.”

“That’s right. This show is going to get people excited to come up here again. And I promise, Pete, if your family lets us film in the Tavern, Craig and I will protect you.”

“Well, we’re not going to sugarcoat stuff either, though, right, Maddy? Let’s be clear,” Craig interjects. “If there is a fight, and the two people agreed to be on the show, we won’t hide from that. We’d also love for some of the business owners to talk about how tough times are financially. I think America will really relate to that. And I love the idea of showing all these amazing events, things you as a community are doing to pull together.”

“Amen,” says Matthew, giving Craig a spontaneous fist bump. Even if Craig looked a little awkward doing a fist bump, the bonding moment makes me smile.

“Do we get paid for being on camera? How does it work?” my brother’s friend George asks.

“Yes, the main people involved with the show will get a nominal fee. But you won’t see real money from the show. It doesn’t work like that. The real money will come from the added tourism in town, and if the show is successful, advertising and maybe even merchandising, stuff like that.”

“I have another idea.” Matt jumps in again. It’s like he’s aiming for a producer’s credit. “You should film the snowboarding competition we hold. We usually get a couple celebrities here for
it anyway—you could make it a charity thing and get a lot of big names.”

“I love that idea, Matthew!”

Without hesitation, Matthew leaps into a detailed description of what an intense weekend it is, the stress on the restaurants and small B&Bs, everywhere filled to max capacity, the party atmosphere created by the guests at the big events, the superstar snowboarders, the celebrity fans in attendance—it’s a pretty big deal. Jen and George throw in a few ideas, and Craig and I walk away with our pockets full of business cards and my notebook overflowing with names of people and businesses that may want to participate.

Craig has his camera out again, shooting locals barbequing ribs, kids playing badminton under some trees. He gets down on the ground to get a good angle of a fisherman showing his kid how to clean his catch. He gets up and tries to brush off some of the dirt, but now he looks a lot less polished than I’m used to seeing, and I like it. “Wow—anything for the shot, huh?” I tease.

“I know it’s just in-house footage. We’ll have to come back with a crew for the real pitch reel, but it’s fun, you know? Like film school all over again.”

“I didn’t know you went to film school.”

Craig smirks. “Well, I wasn’t born an executive at HCP, Maddy. As you know, probably better than I do, Hogan doesn’t suffer fools. I had to prove myself before I got to where I am.” He’s flipping through the video files he has on his phone, but I can tell he’s waiting for my reply.

Yikes, Craig seems a little touchy about this. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I know you’re good at what you do. I’m just used to seeing you on the business side. You know, suit, tie, crunching numbers. Not getting dirty, literally, for a camera angle. I guess I didn’t see you having such an… artistic side.”

“Yes, I’m a regular Quentin Tarantino,” he jokes. He untucks his shirt and cleans the screen of his phone with the underside of his polo. It hits me that this more casual version of Craig has been so much fun to be with this weekend. In fact, I like his untucked, laid-back side more than the by-the-numbers executive I thought was so perfect for me.

“Anyway, there’s a lot you don’t know about me, and I’m sure vice versa,” Craig says, linking his arm through mine.

With all of the good-byes and last-minute visitors and promises to keep everyone posted on the show, we’re almost late for our flight back to LA. I let Craig have the window seat as we board the plane and luckily no one comes to sit next to me, so we actually have the row to ourselves. I slide to the aisle seat and put our magazines and my notebook on the empty seat between us. Craig, no surprise, is on a call, using his earpiece. Since he’s looking out the window and there’s so much noise around us, I can’t really figure out if it’s work or something else.

I’m glad he’s distracted, because frankly so am I. I get out my notebook and pen to make notes about the show, but instead I can’t help replaying the conversation I had with my mom last night. She came in my room as I was falling asleep and got into bed with me just as she did when I was a girl.

“Oh, Maddy,” she said, wrapping her arms around me. “We just love having you here. I know you flew the nest a while back, but I still miss my little birdie.”

No matter how grown up I feel 99.9 percent of the time, it’s moments like these that transport me back to being a little girl. I snuggled in deeper, inhaling my mom’s vanilla scent.

“And we’re so excited for this show. Your dad and I were talking last night. This might be just the thing the town needs. We’re so proud, but hardly surprised, that our little Maddy could save the day.”

“I don’t want you and Dad to have to leave Wolf. Your whole life is here. This is home. You’ll see; the show is going to be a hit.”

“Well, that would be terrific, but the best part of it is that we would get to see you more, right? You would come up all the time?”

“Mom, I think they’re gonna want someone with more experience to run the show.”

Concern clouds her features. “Honey, you’ve been working in Hollywood for more than ten years. If that’s not experience, I don’t know what is.”

“I know, but…”

“Honey, is this like when you were coming out of high school? Even with those test scores, you didn’t even want to leave the valley for college. You are stronger than you think.”

“Mom…”

“You need to believe in yourself or no one else ever will.”

“Okay. I hear you. I believe, I swear I do.”

“So then you’ll be coming back to see us, a lot. Right?” She shifts gear at lightning speed back to her immediate goal.

“Yes, I’m sure I could finagle some trips, and Craig too.” I take a deep breath and ask the question I wanted to all weekend. “Speaking of Craig, what do you think of him?”

She was silent for a minute, stroking my hair. Finally she said, “He seems very driven, Maddy, just like you.” Another pause. “What matters is, do you like him?”

Classic redirect, which told me everything I need to know. I know I’m an adult, but it really matters to me that my parents embrace Craig. And it really matters to me why they aren’t. I tried to keep the defensive tone out of my voice when I told her that yes, I liked Craig and was excited to see where this would go. I told her that I hoped once they got to know him, they, too, would see his charms.

“I’m sure we will, dear. I’m sure we will,” she said as she tucked me in and headed to bed.

The flight attendant breaks into my thoughts, advising us that it’s time to turn off our devices. I dash off one last text to Mom and Dad, thanking them for having us, and then dutifully tuck my phone into my carry-on. Five minutes later Craig is still on his call. The flight attendant sounds really annoyed as she says again that all cell phones and electronics must be off—an announcement clearly directed at Craig. I look at her and she is glaring at us.

“Craig!” I tap his arm. He holds up one finger. I look back at the flight attendant and she rolls her eyes at me. Embarrassed now that she saw him brush me off, I tap Craig harder on the arm.

“Craig, come on. The whole plane is waiting for you.”

He looks at me and looks around. “Okay, okay,” he says, and then back to the phone. “Sorry, we’ll finish this tomorrow. I have to go.”

He hangs up and then waves the now-black screen at the flight attendant, who disappears behind the curtain.

“That was a development executive I know,” he says, without a thought to delaying the whole flight for his call.

“I was giving a bit of a sneak peek about Wolf,” he continues. “Not too many details, don’t worry.” He pats my thigh. “But I can tell you right now, we’re going to have lots of interest.”

He leans in to look at the notes I was writing. I’m glad I was working on Wolf County and not one of my personal lists, like ranking my favorite contestants on
The Voice
. That would be embarrassing. I make a mental note to start a notebook for just Wolf County so he doesn’t ever read something he shouldn’t.

“This looks great, Maddy. Good idea. Get all the highlights on one page. Actually, it will be good to get a full season’s worth of
episode synopses written up. I can help you do that. It’ll be even easier to convince Hogan to give us a budget for the pitch if we’ve thought through every angle.”

“I thought Hogan was already excited about this idea.”

“I mean he is, but you know Hogan, even if it’s his favorite place in the world, he’s going to be objective about the show. We have to win him over.”

“True. That sounds like Hogan.” He can be a tough boss, for sure. “And again, Craig, I’m sorry that I never said anything to you about my family knowing Hogan. I wasn’t trying to keep secrets. And I would never go behind your back to him. I hope you know that.”

“I do know that. Frankly, it may come in handy that you and Hogan are close. Maybe he’ll listen to you more than he will me about this whole reality thing, and see the opportunity.”

“Well, obviously he’s already changed his mind about reality TV. Even just letting us do this initial recon for a show is a huge step for him. I think he’ll respond really well to everything we’ve got marked up. What are you going to do with the footage you shot?”

Now that we’re at altitude, Craig activates his phone. It irks me a bit that he just put it on sleep mode and didn’t actually turn it all the way off the way you’re supposed to. I’m not going to say something, though. I know he’ll just tease me for being such a rule-follower.

“I’m going to take the best shots and videos and work it into a presentation to show Hogan. Hey, you know what? You should come to the meeting on Tuesday too!”

“Really?” I say, a little annoyed that Craig is only thinking to invite me at the last minute.

“Well, given your connection to Hogan and Hogan’s to Wolf, I think he would love hearing from you.”

Craig is looking at me with this gleeful, expectant look on his face, and I agree to join him on Tuesday morning.

“Fabulous! Maddy, this is going to be great. There’s no way Hogan can’t share our excitement now. This is going to be my ticket—our ticket—to the next level. We just have to have everything ready for Reality Buzz next month.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s one of the most important reality TV conventions held in the world. All the important network executives, show runners, and producers, meet up to exchange ideas, listen to pitches, and acquire the rights to new shows for their networks.”

The flight attendant comes over and serves our drinks with such a stink eye that if I hadn’t seen her pour my soda from the can myself, I would question whether it was safe. Wow, way to hold a grudge. I look to Craig to judge his reaction, but he seems totally oblivious. For a moment I truly wish I didn’t care what other people think of me.

“Sorry about earlier. He really didn’t hear you,” I say to her quietly as she passes me my drink.

“Honey, I’m just glad he’s not my problem,” she replies at full volume. He definitely heard that. She moves on and I sneak a look at Craig, but he has his nose back in his tablet. Thank God for Wi-Fi. I pick up a copy of
People
magazine that I bought in the terminal. I start flipping through it, happy to have a break from nonstop Wolf County conversation. An article about Blake Shelton grabs my attention. Okay, it may have been the picture of Blake Shelton that did that, but the article is interesting too. It’s talking about how he’s made country music popular with the mainstream. Interesting. Then I turn the page and there staring back at me is Adam Devin sitting on a rocky shoreline looking back at the camera, his hair all mussed in the wind, looking brooding and gorgeous. After a one-way staring contest that lasts longer
than I’d like to admit, I finally start reading the story about how Adam, too, is leaving his comfort zone, having broken out of daytime and landed a lead role on
The Wrong Doctor
(
season two coming this spring
). The writer goes on and on about Adam’s down-to-earth personality, adding that he’s avoided the bad-boy reputation of his costar Billy Fox by not turning up at every red carpet with a different bombshell on his arm. In the article Adam acknowledges that he’s single but explains that he wants to focus on his new character on
The Wrong Doctor
right now. He adds, “I’m always open for what comes next.”

I tap Craig since he has his headphones in and show him the article, in case he hadn’t seen it. It’s great promotion for the show.

“Wow, he’s at it already. Huh,” Craig says after he skims the article, a bit louder than necessary since he hasn’t taken his earbuds out.

“What do you mean?”

“Obviously, he’s hired that publicist to raise his profile. I heard him talking to Billy about her. Sophie Atwater? But this is quick, even for her.” Rapidly he flips back through the magazine. “I’m surprised he’s going for that angle, though.”

“Angle?” I ask quietly enough that he has to take his right earbud out of his ear. I repeat the question.

“You know, the Goody Two-shoes, hardworking thing. I think that Billy going to events with all of those supermodels gets him great PR, not to mention all those leading man offers. It makes women want him even more. You know you guys all love the bad boys.” He nudges me with his elbow. “Well, at least it makes the show look good.”

I’m surprised at how quickly Craig dismisses the good PR, not to mention his new hire, Adam Devin. And for the first time I actually find myself wanting to defend him.

“I don’t know… I think it’s sincere. From what I’ve heard,
he isn’t dating anyone, and I’ve heard him talking to some of the cast about this acting class he’s in. I think he genuinely does want to focus on his career.”

Craig just shrugs. “Hey, whatever works.” And then he goes back to his music. I read
People
for the rest of the flight.

When we land, it’s almost 10:00 p.m., and there’s a chill in the air in LA, so I’m still dressed perfectly for the weather in my favorite gray hoodie and fleece sweats.

As exhausted as I am, it was such a productive trip, and I do feel really optimistic that Wolf County is going to make a great reality show. And I’m more than a little proud to be part of reality TV that isn’t all about negativity. I say that aloud to Craig. I want to end our weekend on an upbeat note.

“Me too. And so will Hogan. I’ll meet you at the offices at eight on Tuesday morning. Thanks again for coming.”

“No problem. I’m excited. It will be fun to see things from another angle.”

“And thanks for showing me such a good time this weekend,” he says as he pulls me into an embrace and kisses my forehead. I tilt my face up and he takes the cue to kiss me sweetly on the lips, and then again with more passion. When the cab pulls up, I put out of my mind that I have a 7:00 crew call in the morning, that I have laundry (clean, at least) strewn all over my bed, and that I haven’t shaved my legs in two days. I turn to Craig. “Come home with me?”

Craig, of course, knows what a 10:00 p.m. invite means. He picks up his duffel bag and smiles. “Well, I already have my toothbrush. Let’s go.”