Friday morning, Russ hung his bike on the rack attached to his car and checked his messages. He’d missed his afternoon ride the day before to have an early dinner with Gabriella that turned into a brainstorming session. She had some ideas for screenplays and claimed to have several interested parties already. They just had to be written. Feeling the pressure of expectation weigh on him like a set of antlers on a bull moose, Russ had taken to the mountain.
When he was with Gabriella, the future seemed promising and full of success. However, when he sat down at his computer to write, he couldn’t get a handle on the direction of his life. Transferring her ideas to the hard drive was as difficult as slogging through waist-deep mud; he was exhausted and irritable and somehow felt sticky. Gabriella was the only antidote he’d found—yet he was starting to wonder if she wasn’t also the problem.
To top off his already melancholy state, he’d decided that tonight was the night he would tell Alice he was moving. He’d tried to put it off; truly, he’d made a monumental effort to avoid breaking the news. However, there was this voice in his head that called him some pretty nasty names each time he chickened out.
He chuckled, thinking that it was pretty conceited of him to assume Alice would think his leaving was bad news. For all he knew, she’d think it was great to finally have him out of her hair. Ever since the pastor had assigned her as his personal welcoming committee, Russ had followed her around town. She never treated him like he was a bother, even though he’d hardly bothered to make other friends. He knew a lot of people, but when it came time to hang out, he preferred Alice. That was why he was bucking up and following through—tonight.
Trying to stay above the rising dread, he checked his messages.
“Russ! Buddy. This is Robert Halverton.”
Russ nearly dropped the phone.Robert Halverton, as in LA producer Robert Halverton?!
“I heard you were moving to town, and I’m having a soiree at my place. You should come. ’Kay, I’ll see you later.”
Russ pulled the phone away from his ear. Thislookedlike his phone. It had the same bright orange case as his phone. Robert Halverton, the producer, had his number. Russ shook his head. Life was crazy. He hit seven to save the message.
The second voicemail started. “Russ—David Salvadore here—hey, man. Call me when you get to California. We seriously need to talk about this manuscript. I’m throwing a dinner party on Sunday—nothing fancy, wear a tie. Bye.”
Russ opened his car door and fell into the passenger seat. Was this really happening?Sunday!It was Friday morning. He could catch a flight and make the dinner, but … Was he really expected to put in an appearance? And if he was running back and forth from LA, when was he going to write? Gabriella was already a part-time job, and he still hadn’t found a book for Lillian.
Panic set in, and Russ dialed Gabriella.
“Morning, sweetie,” Gabriella moaned. Her seductive purr made him picture her stretching as she got out of bed. Russ had seen the same move countless times on her show and associated the noise with the image easily enough.
“Did you tell David Salvadore and Robert Halverton I was moving to California this weekend?”
She squealed, and Russ pulled the phone away and rubbed his ear. “Isn’t it exciting? Everyone who’s anyone is dying to meet you. I wish I had a publicist as good as me.”
“Gabriella, I’m, I mean …” Russ threw his empty hand out. “I’m not ready. I haven’t sold my house. I haven’t even packed a bag.”
“I thought it was a done deal. You said yes.” Gabriella now pouted. This time, he’d heard enough in person that he didn’t need the help of her TV career to imagine her lower lip protruding and her eyelashes batting furiously. He’d bet dollars to doughnuts that her head tipped slightly to the left. If he’d been near, she would have run her fingers up his arm.
“It is; it’s just happening so fast.”And my stomach doesn’t like the motion.Russ rubbed his belly.
“Darling, these things don’t wait. You need to get a move on while you’re hot.”
I feel hot, all right.He wiped the perspiration off his brow.
“I’ve invited my agent to come into town. He’s dying to meet you. Saw one of your plays off Broadway a few years ago. Says you’re on the move, and he’s always looking for people who are on the move.”
“So I’m not flying out tomorrow?”
“No.”
“But there’s these parties—”
“Darling, if you show up, you’ll look desperate.” Gabriella’s declaration was packed full of confidence.
“I will?”
“Trust me, producers can smell desperate a state away.”
“I’ll just call and let them know—”
“Don’t you dare!”
Russ pulled the phone away from his ear.
