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He rubbed his palm over his thick beard and smiled. Excitement ran through his body, making his heart race. The same feeling he’d gotten when he found the perfect twist for the script he’d submitted. He’d have to call his mom and dad and tell them the good news later. They were the only ones who knew Mick had no intention of working in Skinner’s feed shop for the rest of his life. They kept his secret, even if they didn’t understand why it had to be hidden from his friends.
“Hey, boss. What’s up?” Charlie’s wiry frame sidled through the door.
“I have to travel in a couple of weeks and I need you to cover my shifts.” He pointed to the calendar on the computer screen. “I’ll work for you when I get back to make it up. I know taking those shifts means you’re working ten days straight without a day off.”
“Man, Meghan will kill me.”
“I need you here. Skinner doesn’t know his hand from his foot these days. I have to go.”
“You know Skinner won’t approve the overtime. He never does.” Charlie frowned, his gaze glued to the ground.
“I’ll pay you the overtime out of my pocket, Charlie. Do you think that would change Meghan’s mind?” He and his wife had three children under the age of five and another baby on the way. Charlie used to get overtime regularly, but last year Skinner made Mick hire a college kid—Logan VonBrandt—to cover the extra hours. He didn’t pay overtime to anyone now.
“Yeah, she’ll be good, but I hate that, man. You—”
Mick raised his hand, silencing Charlie. “It’s fine, really. It’s spur of the minute and I knew it might happen. I set the money aside just in case. Just don’t tell Skinner.”
Charlie nodded. “You got it, boss. I do appreciate it. I’ve been taking extra jobs on the side already, so this will help out a lot for that week. It’s been a tough year.”
“I know. I wish I’d been able to convince Skinner—”
Charlie shook his head. “I know you were the one who got him to keep me full time. We owe you for that.”
“Thanks, Charlie.”
“I better get back up front before Skinner pisses off a customer cause he don’t know how to run that register.”
Mick chuckled. It’d probably already happened. That old man needed to sell his store and retire. Should have done it ten years ago, but the old codger was stubborn…and lonely. His wife had died over a decade ago and since then the old man rarely left the store.
Charlie slipped out of the office, leaving Mick alone with his thoughts. There were so many.
And they were all clamoring for attention at once.
He’d spent the last ten years trying to get to this point. Taking online classes. Joining forums for screen writers. The last five years had gotten him to this point and now change was coming. Movies had been his passion his entire childhood. His parents had owned the only drive-in theater in Somewhere. It’d closed when he was in high school. After that his dad had worked for old man Skinner. Then Mick had started after graduation. When Mick’s dad retired, Skinner had promoted him into his dad’s manager position and hired Charlie. This place wasn’t much, but it was reliable and it gave him nights off to work on his scripts and take classes without being obvious to his friends.
It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy getting out and hunting or fishing, but if given the choice he’d always choose writing…Or watching a good classic movie. Nothing quite like a little A Clockwork Orange or the Godfather. One of his dad’s favorites had been Chinatown. Of course Mick had always enjoyed the slapstick humor in Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Variety was the spice of life…or so some people said. When it came to film, Mick wholeheartedly agreed. Drama, romance, comedy, action, mystery, and Spielberg epic tales all had their place.
His favorite were thrillers. The kind of movies that kept you guessing and surprised you more than once. Probably because nothing in his life as of yet had surprised him in the least.
Chapter 3
Laurel handed Teri a red solo cup half full of the Bordeaux she’d grabbed at the grocery store down the street. The town of Somewhere was small, but not so small that a new person stuck out like a sore thumb. Especially since she wielded a thick Texan accent already.
People had been downright nice, too. The checker at the grocer had even carded her for the wine.Sweet boy.He’d blushed cherry red when she’d shown him her license. She’d turned the dreaded twenty-nine this year. After thirty, it was down hill. At least that’s what her so-called friends back home all told her. Grey hairs. Wrinkles around the eyes and mouth. Meryl Latimer had insisted that weekly facials and retinol treatments were a must starting at age twenty-five.
Laurel hadn’t been convinced extreme measures needed to be taken quite that early, but she hadn’t turned down the generous birthday basket full of creams and concoctions. Everything Meryl said she’d need to get her regimen started.
“Well, I didn’t think you’d really do it.”
“What?”
“Move to Somewhere. There’s not even a mall, Laurel. What are you going to do about clothes? Shoes? Purses? I actually saw a woman carrying a denim purse with fringe on it at the gas station. Please tell me you won’t let them turn you into a country bumpkin.”
Laurel couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up at her friend’s concern. “I assure you, just because I’ve moved out of the big city does not mean I’ve forgotten how to straighten my hair or dress to impress.”
“I took every last thing out of my closet before I moved out. Every belt, buckle, shoe, and purse I owned. That twenty-year-old tramp isn’t going to get a single fingernail on any of my Prada, Gucci, Burberry or Dolce & Gabbana.”
“Excellent. Except for the fact that I have to drive two hundred miles to borrow any of it.” Teri whimpered into her wine and gave Laurel a fake sob.
