Scared Scriptless (11 page)

Craig’s text sets off “La Cucaracha” (I have got to figure out how to change these alerts!) to let me know he’s outside at 5:30 the next morning. Having been packed and ready to go for thirty minutes, I was sitting on the couch taking deep breaths to calm my anxieties about the weekend. Matthew’s 3:00 a.m. text didn’t help:

I feel like a bad sister that I totally forgot that Matthew is doing a twenty-four-hour relay mountain bike ride for charity this weekend. But part of me is relieved that it won’t be two on one with my brothers and Craig all weekend.

I really don’t know what my brothers are going to make of Craig, and vice versa. All I keep picturing when I see Craig in Wolf is something akin to Billy Crystal in
City Slickers
. Or that John Candy traipsing terrified through the woods in
The Great Outdoors
. My first clue was how fascinated he was about our garbage rules, which I happened to mention last night when he
called to ask if he should pack his summer blazer for dinner. Answer: no.

Start close-up on Craig’s hand nervously tugging at the Armani tie, cut wide to show him pacing back and forth across the same strip of carpet in his office.

Seriously, if a bear doesn’t try to maul him, he’ll be heartbroken. Of course, in Craig’s head it’s just a stunt. I can imagine he
thinks if things get too scary, he could just yell, “Cut!” or perhaps e-mail someone in the stunt department, and the bear will immediately take five.

As I gather my bags and head to the car, I laugh out loud, imagining the visual of Craig raising up one finger to a big mama bear because he’s got an incoming call. Sure enough, even though it’s not even 6:00 a.m., he’s talking animatedly into his Bluetooth as I get in the car. As he leans over to kiss me, I also get an earful about the promotions campaign surrounding the new season of
The Wrong Doctor
. National billboards and media buys in local markets. I’ve seen the pictures of Billy and Adam that will appear on those billboards, and let’s just say, I think it will be an effective campaign.

Craig arranged for us to catch a commuter flight up to Fresno, and then we’re renting a car for the forty-five-minute drive up the mountain. As much as I’m starting to get into seeing Craig, and I like talking to him—especially when we find topics outside of Hogan and the company to talk about—I don’t know if I could handle a five-plus-hour driving trip with him. Or anyone, for that matter. I love the drive when I’m by myself, listening to music with the scenery whizzing by. Besides, I would rather not stew for five hours anticipating my parents’ reactions. A quick flight will be so much better.

We get to the Burbank airport for the 8:15 flight and, thank you, Southwest, we’re taking off right on time. It’s a no-muss, no-fuss airline with no first class, and I can tell this is not Craig’s favorite way to fly. He is seated in the middle seat, having politely insisted that I take the window, and now is holding himself perfectly still so he doesn’t touch shoulders with the bigger guy sitting on the aisle.

“Nervous flyer?” I ask, mostly to make conversation. I know that’s not what he’s reacting to.

“Not at all. I fly all the time.” It works. He relaxes a little into his seat to prove what he’s saying. “You?”

“I don’t love flying, but I’m not going to freak out on you or anything. I like to understand how things work, and I’m always surprised these things get off the ground.”

“You should take flying lessons.” Craig looks really enthusiastic about this idea. “Seriously. I bet it would really help you love to fly. We could take lessons together.”

As I settle in to look out the window at the thin clouds around us, I actually fantasize about Craig and me taking flying lessons together. Being trapped in a small plane, our lives in each other’s hands. I’m trying to picture things we might do together in the future, meeting the family, flight lessons, maybe a vacation—I can’t remember the last time I’ve had a proper vacation—spending the night together. It’s been five dates now and we haven’t even slept together yet. Janine thinks that’s crazy, but I don’t know what to think. A part of me, truthfully, is relieved. I don’t know how I feel about Craig yet, and I’m comfortable and grateful to take things slowly. But at the same time, I wonder maybe if he were more assertive, I would respond. Of course, I’m not nearly as open about stuff like this as Janine, who flat-out asked me yesterday, if this was “the weekend.” I explained that the separate-rooms situation at my parents’ house would make that difficult and that besides, we’re taking it slow. This was met with a big eye-roll.

“Slow, Maddy? We’re not in eighth grade. It’s time to check out the goods. Oh God, I can’t believe I am saying that about our boss. Gross.” Then she added all sorts of melodramatic gagging noises. But the truth is, she has a point. Maybe it is time to “check out the goods.” I don’t realize I’m laughing out loud at that absurd expression, until Craig turns to look at me. “What’s so funny?”

Rather than answer, I spontaneously lean over and kiss him.

“Wow, Maddy.” I’m not sure what I expected, him to stick his tongue down my throat in this cattle car in the sky? It’s not exactly a romantic setting, I get that, but it’s still hard not to be offended by how shocked Craig looks. “What was that about?”

“Maybe it’s the altitude.” I try to laugh it off. “I was just thinking, our first sleepover ever is going to be at my parents’ house. That’s sort of weird.”

“Well, I’m assuming I’ll be in the guest room, right?”

“Yes. My parents’ house, their rules.” Maybe I just need to be the one to make the first move… “But when we get back to LA, there are no rules, right?” I raise my eyebrow as suggestively as I can. “We could pick up Chinese food and compare notes from the trip…”

It’s Craig’s turn to lean over and kiss me. “I like the sound of that.”

My stomach does that weird dropping thing, and I don’t think it’s just because we’ve started our descent.

We’ve been in Wolf County for less than ten minutes before we manage to have our first awkward situation. When we stopped at Henry’s Gas and Grill to fill up, Craig went inside and, unbeknownst to me, tried to order an “extra dry cappuccino.” I learn of this when Henry comes trailing after a sheepish Craig, laughing heartily and saying, “You weren’t kidding. You really were going to buy Maddy Carson a cappuccino.” I’m mortified as Henry comes around and gives me a warm embrace with a stage-whispered, “Where’d you get this guy?” Mercifully, there’s the loud click marking the full tank and we can make our escape, but not before Henry calls after us, “And how the heck can a drink be dry, anyway?”

The second cringe-worthy moment happens at the red light not three minutes farther down the road. Harriet Burns, my mom’s beautician (and the woman responsible for giving me my first terrible perm), pulls up next to us at one of only a handful of stoplights in the whole town.

“Maddy! Oh, you’re here! And is this him?! Oh, it must be! Hi! We can’t wait to meet you later!! Bye, sweetheart.” Of course, town gossip Harriet would have heard about Craig’s visit and has no doubt spread the news to anyone sitting in her chair for a roller set.

The best part of that whole interaction was that Harriet didn’t stop talking the entire time, so there was no room to get a
word in edgewise. Not that I would have had much to say if she’d paused for air. I haven’t really worked out yet how to introduce Craig around. Yes, we’re dating, but he’s definitely not at “boyfriend” status. And yet, here he is with me in our hometown. And we do want to tell a few people about the idea of a reality show. I mean, we’re not here to secretly put them on tape without their knowing, but that isn’t exactly the kind of thing you blurt out at a traffic light. Luckily I don’t have to cross that hurdle quite yet, as the light turns green and Harriet jets off. I look at Craig and he’s grinning at me. “I don’t know who that is, but she’s got to be on the show. I can already tell Wolf County is going to deliver.”

I regale him with more stories about Harriet, like the time she chased her son, Eric, across the entire neighborhood because he tried to ditch out on detention. In her pajamas. I get to the part where he’s hanging on to the streetlamp as she and the local aging sheriff take both his feet and pull as hard as they can when someone grabbed a picture and sent it to the town paper. We’re both still laughing when we finally get to the mountain. Since it’s off-season and things are slow, my dad only checks in a few times a week, but Mike will be there. There’s no snow yet this early in the season, but it’s still beautiful. As we pull up in the parking lot and Craig looks around in appreciative awe, I can tell that he agrees.

“See those trails coming down from the top of the run? We rent mountain bikes and operate the trails for biking in the summer. It’s closed down for the season now, but we get a lot of adventure seekers in the summer months too.”

Dad left the side door unlocked for us, so I take him past the ski rental window and the lift ticket booths.

“Have you guys upgraded to the card system? They have that in Colorado. It’s amazing.”

Awkward moment number three begins right now, I think, as
my brother appears just in time to hear Craig unknowingly bring up a touchy subject. My dad and brother almost ruined Christmas last year fighting over whether or not they should invest the money to do the upgrade this summer. Obviously my dad won, and it didn’t happen. And Mike is still pissed about it.

“Mike, this is Craig.” I know I’m doing that overly upbeat voice to try to cover the tense moment, but I just can’t help it. My not-so-subtle squeezing of Mike’s upper arm is a silent warning:
Be nice.

Mike doesn’t even glance at me as he reaches out his hand. “Hey, Craig. Gotta be honest, Maddy sort of sprung this on us last week. So we’re all just trying to get warmed up to the idea.”

Mike is not exactly giving off warm vibes.

“Oh, well, that’s all right.” Craig looks over at me. “I thought we were going to tell everyone together anyway. But I guess she decided to get a head start. Sounds like Maddy, right?” He forces a laugh.

Even though I am annoyed that Craig is talking about me like I’m not standing right there, I am more than a little relieved that he misunderstood Mike’s comment. Clearly, Craig thinks I talked to my family about the idea of a reality show, which I haven’t. Mike is referring to me announcing to my family a few days ago that I’m bringing a guy I’m dating up here. He’s doing the intimidating-big-brother thing, which is, fortunately, going right over Craig’s head.

“Mike, I was going to give Craig a tour of the lodge and then head over to Mom and Dad’s.” I start walking down the extra-wide front hallway, meant to accommodate skiers and snowboarders and their equipment. My voice echoes like crazy in the empty space. “See you there?”

“Yep, I’ll be there for dinner. See you later, Maddy. Craig.”
Mike disappears back inside his office. I smile apologetically as I lead Craig toward the main area of the lodge.

“Sorry about that. My brother has always been really overprotective of me.”

“Of course he is.” Craig smiles, but his eyes are already scanning the central gathering area for the lodge. He pulls his fancy Canon out of its leather case and starts taking pictures of the Claw Café, its cute seating areas clustered around a gorgeous stone fireplace.

“This place is always busy in season. Skiers warming up during the day, all the way through après drinks after the lifts close.”

“The younger set? Like romantic hookups or like families?” I can tell Craig is setting the stage, trying to picture the “scene.” I collapse into one of the cozy oversized leather love seats.

“A little of everything. During the day, a lot of families come through here, but they don’t stay long. The kids usually gravitate toward the few video games we have in the other main dining area. And I think families prefer to eat at the tables we have set up in front of the big windows looking at the mountain.” I point in the general direction of the dining area. “Since the main bar is here, there are a lot of adults, couples, singles, who come through. You’re right, the ski bunnies stake out these comfy sofas, and there are always love connections.” I smile, thinking of the time when I caught—

“It would be a great b-story for the show. Don’t you think?” Craig says. He presses his phone to activate Siri. “Start a list: party games and socializing at Claw Café.”

Instinctively, I reach for my notebook, only to realize I left it back in the car. I feel a wave of separation anxiety.

Craig turns to me, oblivious to my anxiety. “This is great.
Who’s your bartender? Or maybe we can cast someone great, you know? Plan bar games for the nights we’re shooting here, get the locals involved. We can generate some great story from that.”

“We have a couple of terrific bartenders who work for us in the winter. I’m not sure who’s committed to stay for this next season, but I’m sure they’d love to do it.”

It’s been so strange referring to the people in my life, my hometown, as I would with
The Wrong Doctor
, as a series of story lines and characters. I wonder if I’ll ever get used to it.

“Exactly. And you said that your parents and the older set hang out at”—Craig scrolls down on his phone—“Pete’s Tavern?” He looks up at me for confirmation.

“Yeah, where we had my mom’s birthday. That’s kinda the old-school watering hole for their generation.”

“Yes, yes, love it.” Craig is making notes again, this time typing into the phone instead of speaking to Siri. “Let’s keep going.”

He grabs my hand and pulls me up from the deep couch, the same one I used to nap on when I was a kid. We walk past the clothing store, locked behind sliding glass doors. Ironically called “Left Behind,” the store has all the basic necessities of skiing, everything from socks to lip balm for desperate skiers who show up only to realize they forgot some piece of equipment crucial to surviving the elements. Craig pauses to snap a picture of me underneath the sign.

“My mom used to work here. She ran this shop when I was a kid.”

“What about you? Did you work here after school?”

“Me? No way. I wanted to be out on the mountain. I started teaching ski school when I was thirteen.”

We spend the next two hours hanging out at the lodge and batting around ideas. I have to say, Craig’s enthusiasm, which is growing by the minute, is infectious. I’m glad we did some reconnaissance
before sitting down to pitch to my parents. I know I’ll do a much better job selling this idea to my family if I truly think it could work. After this tour, I am a lot more convinced.

“You think your parents will be a hard sell?” Craig asks as we get in the car and head over to dinner.

I fasten my seat belt. “I guess we’re about to find out.”