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Joe is out of it. He doesn’t stir when I take the page and add it to the stack lying on the floor. He doesn’t wake when I cover him with a blanket. I like to keep one in the bottom drawer of the file cabinet for those long nights when the office gets chilly.
I try my best to return my attention to my reading instead of watching him sleep. He looks so much like the Joe I fell in love with all those years ago. The happy-go-lucky boy with not a care in the world. The boy who would make me laugh and dared me to jump in the lake in March. The young man who kissed me and promised his undying love at prom.
And then he’d left, I remind myself. To prove to himself and his father that he could make a living involved in the other great love of his life—movies.
He wasn’t the boy I fell in love with anymore. I had no idea who this adult version of Joe McAllister was.
I get up to grab a glass of ice water and get back to work.
“Good morning, sleepyhead.”
Joe pushes himself up and looks so confused I can’t help but laugh. “What happened?”
“You dozed off. It’s totally my fault. I made you drink decaf coffee.” I don’t sound apologetic, and it earns me one of those half-grins of his I remember so well.
“Right. We were reading scripts.” He scrubs his face with both hands and pushes his hair back before looking around for the screenplays.
“I hope it wasn’t so bad it put you to sleep. This one isn’t half-bad. I see why you like it.” There was more to the story than I’d realized during my first quick scan. The writing was good, and there were plenty of layers to play with. I could think of a few actors who would love a shot at these roles. “It has a small cast of characters which helps. But some of these elements feel overdone. There have been a lot of movies like this lately. I’m worried people are getting tired of the same-old, same-old.”
“You’re kidding, right?” He leans forward, looking wide awake all of a sudden. “Sure, there are familiar elements, but this is a fresh take on them, and did you notice the layering of symbolism? This is it. It’s the hit you’re looking for. I guarantee it.”
“I wouldn’t go that far, but it’s a strong contender. What did you think of those?” I ask, watching him pick up the script he’d fallen asleep over.
“All three of them are good scripts.”
“But this one put you to sleep.” I pointed at my favorite.
“No. That had nothing to do with it. Jet lag, I guess. It’s good. At least what I remember of it.” Joe pushes himself up and paces the room, looking over the page he’d dozed off over.
“Tell you what. Why don’t you take these back to the hotel with you, and we’ll meet some other time to talk about them? That way you can take a shower, get some coffee... Besides, I have some work I have to catch up on. While this is a priority, it isn’t the only project I’m working on at the moment.” I stand as well and put the discarded scripts in a neat pile for Cara to file away for future consideration.
“That’s not a bad idea. I could use a shower. And some real coffee. Do you want to grab some food first?” Joe asks.
I shake my head. “I can’t. Too much to do.”
“How about dinner, then? My treat. I promise to read this line by line before then, and we can talk about it.” He holds up his copy of The Serpent’s Kiss.
“I’m not sure when I’ll get out of here,” I hedge.
“Any place you like. I hear there’s a good sushi place in town.”
“There is.” But I’m in no mood for a high-end restaurant. “Not a good place to work and talk, though.”
“How about pizza then? There’s got to be something like Luigi’s around here.”
“Tell you what. Why don’t you come to my place? I’ll order pizza, and we can compare notes while we eat.” I regret the words the moment they come out of my mouth. But it’s too late. I invited Joe McAlister to come have dinner at my condo, and there was no backing out.
4
JOE
“It’s Joe,” I say when I get to her apartment. It was a close call, but I got a chance to finish her script and stop for a good bottle of wine and some flowers.
“Come on up,” the scrambled voice says over the intercom as she buzzes me into the building.
I use my phone to take a quick picture of the for rent sign that hangs next to the mailboxes in the entryway and jog up to the third floor. Her door is ajar, which doesn’t seem like a great idea in a building full of strangers.
“In here,” Fiona calls.
