A Different Kind of Forever(27)



Michael looked up. “She’s different from anyone I’ve ever met. Tell them that. It’ll keep them buzzing for weeks.”

“She’s nice,” Steve declared. “She was real friendly last night, and it was a zoo back there after the show. And her daughters were very polite. You can tell a lot about a person from their kids, you know.”

Nick Bellini looked interested. “And she works at Dickerson? Watch out, Mike. Smart women are killers. Just ask us. We’re married to your sisters. We know.”

Michael started laughing as Dave Adamson walked into the back yard.

“Mike, got a minute?” he called.

Nick looked over. “Go on, Michael. We’ve got this.” Michael went back into the house and sat at the kitchen table.

Dave was not as good-looking as his brother Joey, but he was still handsome. He sat down across from Michael, holding a large brown envelope.

“I’ve got everything here for Toronto,” he said to Michael. “This looks like it could be very good for us.” By ‘us’, Dave meant the band. “This director is top-notch. I don’t know shit about film, but people who do know are impressed. Sammy did good.”

“Sammy is a pain in my ass,” Michael grumbled, taking the envelope from David and spilling the contents onto the coffee table. There was a fat script, tickets, and stray sheets covered with notes.

Sammy was Sam Adamson, Dave and Joey’s younger brother. Sam wanted to put together a deal with Gordon Prescott, a brilliant theatrical director who occasionally turned out independent films. Sam had pitched Michael to score Prescott’s next film, wrapping in Toronto, and Prescott had taken the bait. It was now up to Michael to visit the notoriously difficult director and make the sale.

“This is for when, tomorrow?” Michael shook his head. “Shit, Dave, I could have used a couple of days. I’m beat. You know what this f*ckin’ tour was like.”

“It’s a tight schedule, Mike. If you go for it, it’s got to be done by December. Recording the soundtrack, the whole score, it’ll be a bitch. If you want out, say so now.” Dave was hunched forward, watching Michael. He had seen Michael with Diane the night before. He wondered if she could be a factor in Michael’s reluctance.

“No, I’m in.” Michael was putting everything back into the envelope. “I’ll read the script on the plane tomorrow.” He glanced briefly at Dave. “Don’t say anything about this today, okay?”

Dave shrugged. “Sure, if you say so, but why not?”

Michael said slowly. “Diane is here. Remember her from last night? She’s helping in the den. I don’t want her to know. Not yet.”

Dave sat back and nodded thoughtfully. “Sure.”





CHAPTER FIVE



THEY WERE DRIVING back to Diane’s house, darkness closing in, cool air coming in through the open windows. Angela had insisted they stay for dinner, and it had been delicious - lasagna, salad, loaves of home-made garlic bread, and lots of wine. Diane had a wonderful time. His family was smart, opinionated, and argumentative, the kids noisy and cranky after a long day outside. Conversation ranged from film to politics to children and finally theater. Angela and Diane discussed her play as the kids all drifted away from the table, and the evening ended in a lively discussion of recent Broadway shows.

Now, Diane leaned back in Michaels’ front seat. “Your sisters are all wonderful.”

“Yes, they are.” He glanced over at her. “Did you have a good time?”

“God, yes. The whole family is terrific.” She had been drinking wine all evening, and felt relaxed and slightly giddy. “You are so lucky to have them.”

“Yes, I know. I’m really blessed.”

“I’m an only child. I always wanted to be part of a big family. I invented a baby brother when I was little.”

“Really? What was his name?”

“Wallace. And he was blond.”

“How long did he last?”

“Oh, he’s still around,” Diane starting to laugh. “Your sisters kept filling my wine glass.”

“No, that was me,” Michael said seriously. “I figured I’d take advantage of you later tonight.’

“Oh, you don’t need wine for that,” Diane said, still laughing. She stopped suddenly. “What time is it?”

“Just a little after nine.”

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