"Done.”
"Name the place, and I'll meet you there.”
"The Five Fathoms."
"Ouch!"
The restaurant didn't come cheap.
"You didn't think I was gonna let you off easy, did you?”
"Fair enough. I suppose it's cheaper than motorcycle repairs. Let's say noon."
I smiled and said, "I'll see you there."
I ended the call and slid the phone back into my pocket, feeling somewhat optimistic. It wasn't a date, but Kendra was a good-looking woman. There were possibilities.
"What's got you all so excited?” JD asked.
"Remember that girl who tried to turn me into a crash test dummy?"
"How could I forget?”
"She apologized and wants to buy me lunch."
Jack wasn't as impressed. "Be careful with that one. She looks like a handful.”
I laughed.
We hung out the rest of the night with Mickey and Flynn, hopping from bar to bar, having a great time. Everywhere we went, Flynn got us VIP access and complimentary drinks. Everybody wanted to have a movie star in their bar.
I figured the attention would probably get old after a while, but there were certain perks to being famous. Everybody bent over backwards for you. It was the kind of thing that could mess with your head after a while. It would be easy to become untethered from reality. Flynn was untethered all right, but he was a lot more grounded than he used to be. I think.
Women flocked, and the drinks flowed. A good time was had by all.
At the end of the evening, we parted ways with Mickey and caught a rideshare back to theAvventura.
"I told you that guy was cool as hell," Flynn said. “I’ve got a great feeling about this. How soon do you think you can have a draft of the script?”
I shrugged.
I really hadn’t thought about it. The studio bought our pitch for the TV show based on JD’s and my life without a script—just an idea and a basic outline of how the first season would go. The show was on hold for the moment after the fiasco with the two stars. I figured the studio would circle back around eventually.
I'd been keeping a journal of these crazy adventures, mainly as something to look back on in my later years. I figured if I treated Mickey's story like a journal entry, told from his perspective, it would be pretty easy. "I need to sit down with Mickey when we’re sober, and he can give me the highlights from beginning to end. We can start working out the story beats, then I can put it all together.”
"So I'll tell the studio we’ll have a first draft in a couple of months."
"Sounds reasonable to me."
Flynn grinned, full of optimism. I had to admit, it sounded fun.
We returned to the boat, and I took Buddy out for a walk before settling in for bed.
The morning came too soon, and the margaritas reminded me why I stay away from sugary drinks. I dragged myself out of bed, took a hot shower, then headed down to the galley to fill my belly with something solid to soak up the remnants of tequila. It still oozed from my pores. It was probably enough to kill any mosquito that tried to bite me.
I guzzled some electrolyte water, trying to rehydrate as I grilled breakfast.
Flynn bounced into the galley, looking like he suffered no ill effects from the night before. "Smells good.”
