He got to get up every day and do something he loved. That just didn’t happen for most people. His mom, dad, and brothers worked nine-to-five jobs that they tolerated. None of them rolled out of bed and thought, “I get to be an accountant today,” or a nurse or a programmer. They liked their professions well enough, but retirement was always the big goal. Russ didn’t think hecouldretire from writing plays.
Gabriella insisted there wasn’t that much difference between a screenplay and a Broadway script. Maybe there wasn’t. Broadway was about showmanship. They packed the seats and sold tickets at outrageous prices. It was beautiful, and yet it was a business.
Off Broadway, where most of Russ’s plays were produced, was about the art. You couldn’t even get to Off Broadway unless you’d honed your talent. Russ had done just that, with Alice’s help. The resulting script had given Russ his lucky break.
That lucky break would go broke if Russ didn’t turn out something soon. He should stay and work, but Gabriella was only in town for a couple of days, and he wanted to take advantage of the time they had together. And while he was at it, he’d figure out what about her drew him in so easily. Was it love? Infatuation? He could be starstruck—that would explain his brain turning off when they were together.
Grabbing his bike and duffel bag with a change of clothes, Russ put the bike on his bike rack and sped up to the resort. He walked through the front doors just as the elevator opened.
Gabriella looked him up and down, her eyes dancing. “This is different.” She pointed to his biking shorts.
Russ’s face burned as he looked around the lobby. He was dressed in skintight spandex, and while he didn’t think much of it while biking, standing amongst the crystal vases and priceless antiques, the song “One of These Things is Not Like the Others”played in his head. “I wanted to take you down a few trails, let you really experience the mountain.”
Gabriella sidled up to him. “Russ, honey, I spend a couple hours a day with a personal trainer. If I work too hard, I’ll get all bumpy and muscly. I have to keep a specific body type for the show.”
“I didn’t realize.” Russ’s neck burned as he thought of how bumpy her lips felt when she kissed him. He’d Googled the phenomenon and determined Gabriella must have had injections. The idea didn’t bother him, except that on the show she was constantly telling her friends to celebrate their natural beauty and not try to change how God made them. Alice always looked thin and pretty, and she didn’t have to put in hours at the gym. Of course, she was happy to hit the trails with him anytime.
“Of course not. That’s the whole idea.” Gabriella beamed as she trailed her hand up his arm.
Russ didn’t want to upset her, even though he’d been counting on pushing himself physically to release his pent-up energy from sitting at the computer for hours. “What would you like to do this afternoon?”
“An early dinner would be great. I’m not allowed to eat after seven.”
“Your producer tells you when to eat?”Talk about control issues.
“No, silly.” She swatted his arm. “My nutritionist.”
“Oh.” He rubbed his forehead. “I’m going to change, and then we can go to the café.”
“That diner on Main Street? How quaint. I just wonder if the menu will coincide with my diet.”
How she lived with all these restrictions was beyond him.
“The Black Cherry has what I need.”
Russ swallowed. Another meal to put a dent in his savings account. He’d never so much as walked closely to the door of the resort’s restaurant—his credit card quivered at the thought. “Sounds good,” he choked out. “I’ll be right back.”
After changing in his car, Russ returned to find Gabriella surrounded by a gaggle of preteen and teen girls. Smiling apologetically, Gabriella held up a finger.
Russ nodded and held back.
“And who is this for?” Gabriella asked as she accepted the paper and pen to sign an autograph.
“Mary,” replied the girl.
“Mary, you have dazzling eyes,” Gabriella dictated as she wrote.
Mary blushed. “Thanks.”
“I’m Evie.” A blonde, taller than the rest, shoved paper at Gabriella.
“Evie, that’s a pretty name.”
“Thanks.” Evie flipped her hair over her shoulder.
Gabriella worked her way through the group, handing each one a specific compliment and asking questions about boys and school. The girls giggled and blushed. Noticing one youngster hanging back, Gabriella parted the crowed with a wave of her arm and beckoned the child closer. Leaning over she asked, “Would you like an autograph too?”
The girl nodded, her lips pressed tight.
