CHAPTER FOUR SAWYER #2
Then again, I did cause a media shitstorm, and they’re cleaning it up.
And even though it pains me that they’d be willing to just drop me, to ruin my career over a public meltdown, I can understand. I wouldn’t want to lose that relationship, or destroy any future opportunities I could garner from working with them.
So, it looks like I’ll start thinking of screenplay ideas.
I scrub my hand over my face. “Of course.” I glance up at the window in time to see Roarick making his way up the trail leading toward my cabin. “Listen, my brother is here—”
“Where is here, exactly?”
“Now, that I’m keeping to myself. I need some time away, some time for things to settle before I head back to LA.”
“Well, while you’re hiding out, come up with your next big idea, because I think it’s the only thing that’s going to get you back in their good graces. You don’t want to piss off Movieflix, Sawyer.”
“I’m aware,” I say as Roarick knocks on the door. “Thanks, Andy, and I’ll talk to you later. Keep me updated on everything.” Without saying bye, I hang up and toss my phone on my bed before I open the door for Roarick.
He takes one look at me and snorts. “Nice shirt, man. Really embracing the small-town vibes.”
“It gets better,” I say as I turn around, bend at the waist, and wiggle my ass in front of him.
He throws his head back and laughs as he steps into the cabin. “Oh shit, you look like a sorority girl in those things. I didn’t know men wore shorts with words on the butt.”
“Apparently they do in Canoodle.” I help him with the bags and set them down on the bed. “Thanks for bringing this stuff up for me. Were there still reporters outside my apartment?”
“Oh yeah, elbowed a few people. They kept asking where you were, and when I left, a few followed me—that’s why it took me so long. I had to lose them before I drove up here, so you owe me.”
“I don’t have much to offer at the moment besides a broken career, bad press, and... sweat shorts that say ‘Canoodle’ on them. Want those?”
He glances down at my shorts and then back up at me. “I mean... they do look comfortable.”
“You would really take the clothes off my back, the one shred of dignity I have left?”
“Technically, they’re off your legs, not your back, and yes, I’m your little brother—I’m supposed to kick you while you’re down. I wouldn’t be doing my job if I wasn’t.”
“True.” I take a seat at the small wooden dining table that rests right under the cabin’s front window. “How are Mom and Dad?”
Roarick leans back on the bed. “Worried. I told them you were just going through a midlife crisis and would be out of it soon.”
“I’m thirty-five. I wouldn’t quite call this a midlife crisis.”
“Thirty-five is old.”
“You’re thirty-three, you idiot.”
“Yes, still a spring chicken, but you’re an old rooster with his gobbler dangling off his beak, barely hanging on.”
“I don’t think it’s called a gobbler.”
He smirks. “It is in my head.”
I roll my eyes and go to my suitcase to start unpacking. I unzip it, and the first thing I see is a large box of condoms. “What the hell is this?”
Roarick shrugs. “A considerate addition to your list. You don’t know who you might meet up here, and with the way you’re advertising your rear end, they might come in handy.”
“You’re the absolute worst, you realize that?”
“Not the kind of thank-you I was hoping to get after all the trouble I went through.” His brows lift.
“Sorry, you’re right.” I hold the box up to him. “Thanks, I guess. Toss those in the nightstand. Don’t believe I’ll use them, but at least we can all rest assured that if I do happen to have sex in Canoodle, it will be protected.”
“No baby mamas allowed.” Roarick puts the condoms in the drawer. “So, what’s your plan? Just hole up here until you think the coast is clear, or until someone else causes a scandal and you can resume life again?”
“Pretty much.”
He nods. “Solid idea. And it’s nice up here. Very... forest-y. Fresh air. Big rocks. An old western town. And hey, there are ducks on the lake. That’s neat.”
“Don’t feed them. They’ll end up chasing you around, looking for more with their little snappy beaks.”
“You seem to be speaking from experience.”
“I wish I wasn’t,” I mutter as I pick up a pair of jeans and quickly change into them. “Want to grab something to eat?”
“Something to eat... or something to drink?”
“Both.” I whip my Canoodle shirt off and change into a plain black T-shirt.
“Aw, I thought that shirt was cute on you.”
“Fuck off.”
He laughs, and together we take off toward the bar.
“I think the look in that duck’s eyes will be branded in my mind forever,” Roarick says as we take a seat at the bar. “I’ve never seen anything so scary.”
“See, I told you. That’s not a short-necked swan.”
“Maybe that’s why he’s not happy. The short neck.”
“Possibly,” I say as Jazlyn walks from the kitchen into the bar area. When she sees me, she rolls her eyes but still comes up to us.
“What do you want, Julia?”
“Julia?” Roarick asks.
“Don’t ask,” I mutter. “Can we get two IPAs?”
Unmoving, she eyes me and then looks to the side at Roarick before returning her gaze to me. She nods toward Roarick. “Who the hell is this?”
“My brother, Roarick. Roarick, this is Jazlyn. People call her Jaz, but I’m not allowed to.”
Roarick chuckles and holds out his hand. “Well, Jazlyn, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m a friend of anyone who can put my older brother in his place.”
In the blink of an eye, Jazlyn turns from stone to a puddle of mush.
The furrow in her brow flattens.
Her frown morphs into a smooth smile.
And her body language screams... interested as she leans on top of the bar, showing a hint of cleavage as she takes my brother’s hand.
“ You can call me Jaz.”
Of course he can.
If I were to extract my emotions and observe their interaction from the screenwriter’s perspective, I’d consider this a possible meet cute moment.
It doesn’t necessarily pack the punch of, let’s say, meeting in a foreign country—you’re only wearing a towel when you’re startled by an angry Scot in your cabin rental.
Nor does it have the same sort of tension that we’d see from two characters who meet on a DIY wedding-competition show when one assumes the other is a coffee-fetching production assistant, which instantly sparks an enemies-to-lovers trope that sets up the entire story line.
This is subtle.
The making of a secondary story arc.
Nothing high concept enough to base a screenplay around.
Looks like I need to keep thinking on those ideas.
“What the hell is he doing?” Jaz says, pulling me from my thoughts.
“He does that,” Roarick answers. “He drifts off, daydreams, has conversations in his head. Plotting, usually for his next screenplay. I’ve gotten used to it.”
Jaz leans over the bar and flicks me in the forehead with her index finger. “Well, stop it. It’s freaking creepy, Julia.” With that, she grabs two pint glasses and starts filling our drinks.
I rub my forehead. “Shit, that hurt.”
“I’m really curious about where this whole Julia nickname came from. I mean, you’ve been here for twenty-four hours, and you already have a nickname? You work fast, man.”
Jaz hands us both coasters and then sets an IPA on each before drying her hands with a towel. “ Runaway Bride . Julia Roberts plays Maggie in the movie. Just seemed fitting.”
“I told you, I was the groomsman.”
“Oh, I know. I read all the blogs this morning, but still, Julia fits.” She sets a menu between us.
“We serve breakfast for dinner. Let me know if you want anything.” With that, she strides toward the end of the bar, where she leans forward, grabs an old man by the back of the head, and plants a large kiss on his cheek.
“Wow, she’s... something else,” Roarick says, staring off at her.
He’s interested.
I can see it in the way he twists his beer on the bar. The far-off look in his eyes. And the smile that tugs gently at the corner of his lips when he glances down at the menu.
Love at first sight. Could be a thing. Could base a story around the—
“Dude, are you listening to me?”
“Huh?” I ask, looking up at him.
“Jesus.” He shakes his head and turns back to the menu. “What is wrong with you? You’re never this bad.”
I glance at the menu as well and see a breakfast burrito that I guess would pair okay with my beer. Who serves breakfast at a bar?
“Andy called right before you arrived. He said Movieflix wasn’t happy with what happened at the wedding—you know, since their screenwriter basically took a shit on love.”
Roarick brings his beer to his lips. “I can see how that might not go over well.”
“So, Andy is doing damage control, but in the meantime, they want a new screenplay idea, and they’re not going to settle for anything other than romance.”
“What if you don’t send them an idea?”
I consider the question. “Overall career suicide, and I’d be penalized.”
“Like... money?”
“Yes. Isn’t that what makes the world go around?”
“So, you’re trying to come up with an idea?”
“I mean, doesn’t seem like I have a choice. I know what I’ll be doing while I’m up here.”
“What better place to plot than in a town called Canoodle. Screams romance, demon ducks and all.”
I chuckle, and the door to the bar opens, grabbing my attention for a moment. Fallon walks in wearing a black sundress that falls just above her knees, curving around her bodice and flaring at her waist. Her hair is pulled into a low bun, and she’s... she’s holding a man’s hand.
Huh, did not see that coming.
Muscular, but at least a few inches shorter than me, he waves to a few locals and smiles when Jaz yells, “You made it up here!”
“Hey, Jaz,” the man calls out. “Can we get two waffles?”
“Coming right up,” she says as I watch Fallon walk the man to the back of the bar, onto the deck that overlooks a forest of towering trees.
He pulls her chair out for her and kisses her lightly on the shoulder before taking a seat across from her.
He reaches across the table and takes her hand in his.
Fallon leans in and smiles while he says something to her.
“Hey, isn’t that Fallon?” Roarick asks.
“Huh?”
“Fallon, that’s her, isn’t it?”
“Wait, how do you know who she is?”
Roarick turns to me, disbelief written over his face. “Are you kidding me?”
“Does it look like I’m kidding??”
“Dude.” He groans. “I thought you were staring at her because she was the one who got away, but you don’t even recognize her?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I ask.
“That’s Fallon Long.”
“That means nothing to me.”
“It should. You went on a blind date with her.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did,” Jaz says, popping out of nowhere. “And you ignored her the whole time.” She shakes her head. “Such a Julia.”
And then she takes off, two drinks in hand.
“Wait... what?” I ask, trying to understand what the hell is going on.
“Do you remember when I was casually dating Samantha before she moved to Florida?”
“The nurse?” I ask.
“Yes. It was a few months after Annalisa cheated on you. We wanted to get you out of your funk and thought a blind date could help. You were in Palm Springs to get away, and so we set you up with Samantha’s friend Fallon.” He jabs me in the arm. “You took her out.”
I took out Fallon? I wouldn’t forget that. Even from the limited interaction I’ve had with her, she’s made an impact on my memory, especially when those wandering eyes connect with mine.
“No fucking way—I would have remembered her.” I shake my head in disbelief.
“Clearly you didn’t,” Roarick says just as Fallon looks up in my direction. The joy on her face quickly falls before she turns to her date again. “Yeah, and it looks like she realizes you didn’t recognize her.”
“Yup, she totally does,” Jaz says, materializing on the other side of the bar again.
“Jesus, where are you coming from?”
She leans in close and whispers, “Your nightmares.” Christ. With a smile, she faces Roarick and gently reaches out to trace her finger over the back of his hand. “Have you decided on anything to eat tonight?” Her voice is laden with innuendo, and I can see Roarick’s mind racing with possibilities.
“What’s good?”
“Come in the back, and I’ll show you.”
For the love of God.
“Can you not hit on my brother, please? He’s here for a night, and I’m kind of going through a crisis,” I say.
Jaz gives me a scornful once-over. “And how is that my problem?”
“She has a point.” Roarick playfully smiles.
“Dude, loyalty.”
He rolls his eyes and huffs. “I’ll take the meat skillet.”
“And I’ll have the breakfast burrito, no tomatoes.”
“Extra tomatoes, got it,” Jaz says, snatching the menu from between us and walking away.
“Why do I have a feeling your burrito will be more like a pile of tomatoes wrapped up with a sprinkle of cheese?”
“Because she hates me.”
“I don’t blame her. You don’t remember going out with her friend, and she doesn’t seem the type to let that go.”
“Not so much.” I glance back at Fallon, guilt gnawing at me. “I seriously went out with her?”
“Yeah. I remember Samantha saying you were on your phone most of the date. Fallon got a free meal and left.”
“Shit,” I say softly. “I was not in a right frame of mind after Annalisa cheated on me with Simon. If I can’t even remember the date, I can only imagine the way I acted.”
“Not great.”
“And she was the one who helped my drunk ass last night—hell, she works at the cabins. No wonder she’s been short with me.”
Roarick chuckles. “Isn’t karma a crazy bitch?” He elbows me. “Hey, there’s your story. Angry cabin-rental worker who had to help the drunk lush to a cabin after he didn’t recognize her. Smells like the perfect meet cute. Think of the possibilities.”
“Trust me, no one is going to want to watch that story arc play out.”
I glance over my shoulder at Fallon again. She’s smiling intently at her date, her plush lips painted a light pink, making her porcelain complexion look innocent but enticing all at the same time.
I ignored her ?
Jesus, I’m a dumbass.
I must have been in a really bad place—because sitting here at the bar, I’m finding it really freaking hard to ignore her now.