Harvest Moon - By Robyn Carr Page 0,10
writers. Those writers have to endure the set—I’m usually just a consultant. I work alone, at home.”
“I thought all scripts were written by teams of writers,” she said.
“Not all scripts. Original screenplays are often written by a single writer.”
“Wow. I wish I could figure out a way to be a ‘consulting chef’ rather than some lunatic’s whipping post. Tell me what it’s like to work alone. At home.”
He took a breath. “The best word I can come up with is comfortable. I’m kind of introverted. But I can entertain myself very easily. All the things I like can be done alone. I fish—fly-fishing. I like to build—there’s nothing to build right now but I’m chopping wood for the winter. I’ve been writing since junior high, but it took me many years to sell a script. I’ve never been good at those activities where everyone looks at you. I’d rather stay home. The best part of my life is fishing and being home.” Then he grinned. “Of course my daughter hates fish, but she’s fourteen—she hates air right now.”
“Yikes. How is that working?” Kelly said.
“She’s rebellious, snotty, antisocial, experimental and so irreverent.” He laughed uncomfortably. “Underneath all that she’s a teenage girl who misses her mom and is stuck with me. She’s a beautiful girl with a high IQ and a confidence problem. I’m trying, but we’re not getting better. Next week we’ll meet with a counselor who specializes in troubled teenagers. I hope to God it works!”
“But you’re drying!” she said.
Drying? Lief frowned. He looked at her glass—second drink, half gone. It was a strong drink, but still. She shouldn’t be slurring. He wondered if it was his imagination.
“Are you slurring?” Couldn’t hurt to be sure.
“’Course not,” she said. But her eyelids started to drift lower. Then they snapped back open.
“How are you planning to get to your sister’s place?” he asked.
“I frove. Drove. I have everything I own in the car ’cept my couch and recliner.”
“Kelly,” he said, leaning closer to her, speaking softly. “You know that stress you were talking about? You wouldn’t be taking medication for that, would you?”
“Hm. Just a little something for the prood blessure and xiety. I’m not taking those sleeping pills, no way. If I fall asleep, I dream about the whole thing!”
“I guess that’s good news,” he said, gently moving her second extra-dry martini out of her reach.
“Hey!”
“I bet it said something on those pill bottles about alcohol not being a good idea while taking that medication,” he said. “You’re a little loopy.”
She straightened indignantly. “I leg your bardon.”
He smiled before he laughed outright. “Drunk,” he clarified.
“I certainly am snot.”
He laughed again. Then he lifted his hand to beckon Jack. And as he did that, Kelly put her head down on the bar. Gonzo.
When Jack came back, he wore a perplexed look.
“It turns out Kelly’s been taking medication and probably shouldn’t have had a couple of power drinks,” Lief said. “She’s going to need a ride to her sister’s.”
Jack looked around. “Crap! The place is full!”
“I’ll be glad to give her a lift, Jack. I should get home anyway to see if Courtney has burned the place to the ground yet. You might want to call her sister and let her know she’s…ah…coming for a visit.” He laughed again. “And that she’s wasted.”
“What’s she taking?”
Lief shrugged. “Something for ‘prood blessure’ and ‘xiety.’” Then he grinned. “I guess the girl’s not used to taking much prescription stuff—never crossed her mind. Just tell her sister.”
“What about her car?” Jack asked.
Lief shrugged. “Better parked here than on the road with her behind the wheel.”
“Right,” Jack said. Then Jack tapped her on the head. “Kelly?” he asked. “Kelly?”
“Hmm?”
“Um, Lief is going to drive you home. Okay?”
She lifted her head briefly. “Lief who?” Then she put her head down again.
“All right,” Jack said. “Here’s how to get there.” He grabbed a notepad near the register and scribbled out directions. “I’ll call Jillian and tell her you’re coming.”
Lief retrieved Kelly’s jacket. He sat her up, and she roused briefly as he helped her put her arms in. “I’m going to give you a lift to Jillian’s house, Kelly,” he said. “I think you just got too…tired.”
“Hmm. Thanks,” she replied.
He grabbed her purse and put the strap over his arm, making her giggle. Meeting Jack’s eyes, he said, “Put it on my tab. I’ll see you soon.”
“Drive carefully.”
With a strong arm around her waist, he stood her up and walked her out of the bar, but outside on the