hair fall freely. Suddenly she was aware of a desire to primp, feeling both amused and alarmed by it. She hadn’t been in front of the cameras since before the twins were born, and had lost a lot of the automatic checking of appearance that was almost second nature to young actresses in the film jungles. Now this young man, little older than Gabbie from his appearance, made her wish for a mirror and a washcloth. Feeling suddenly silly, she told herself she wasn’t going to apologize for her appearance. Still, he was handsome in a way Gloria liked: unselfconscious, dark good looks, athletic but not overly muscular. Gloria smiled inwardly in anticipation of Gabbie’s reaction to the young man. He really was cute. Turning towards Jack, she said, ‘We’re still uncrating around here.’
Jack looked concerned. ‘I’m sorry if this is an inopportune time, Ma’am. I can visit another day.’
She shook her head as she opened the refrigerator. ‘No, I just mean pardon the mess.’ She handed him a beer. ‘And it’s “Gloria”, not “Ma’am”.’
Jack’s eyebrows went up as he regarded the white bottle. ‘Royal Holland Brand,’ he said approvingly.
‘Phil is that rarest of all birds, a well-paid writer. He buys it by the case.’
Jack sipped the beer and made an expression of satisfaction. ‘I can imagine, considering the success of his films. Still, I’ve often wondered why he hasn’t written another book.’
‘You’ve read one of Phil’s books?’ Gloria asked, suddenly interested in the young man.
‘All of them. And all the short stories he’s published. They should be put in an anthology.’
‘You’ve read all three of Phil’s books,’ she said, sitting down.
‘Four,’ Jack corrected. ‘He wrote that romance paperback under the name Abigail Cook.’
‘God! You’ve done your homework.’
Jack smiled, a boyish grin on a man’s face. ‘That’s exactly what it is, homework. I’m a graduate student up at Fredonia State –’
Conversation was interrupted by an explosion through the door in the form of the twins and Bad Luck. ‘Dad’s here!’ yelled Patrick, with Sean echoing his cry.
‘Hold it down to a dull roar, kids,’ commanded Gloria. As expected, she was ignored. The unpacking was a constant pain for Gloria, but the boys thought food from the local fast-food emporiums two nights running a treat.
Phil came through the hall door carrying two barrels of the Colonel’s best. Setting them down, he kissed Gloria on the cheek and said, ‘Hello! What is this? Cheating on me already?’
Gloria ignored the remark. ‘Phil, this is Jack Cole, a neighbour. He’s a fan of yours.’
Phil extended his hand and they shook. ‘Not many people pay attention to who writes a movie, Jack.’
‘He’s read your books, Phil. All of them.’
Phil looked flattered and said, ‘Well then, Jack, there are fewer people still who’ve read my … Did Gloria say all of them?’
Jack grinned. ‘Even Winds of Dark Passion by Abigail Cook.’
‘Well, I’ll be go-to-hell. Look, why don’t you join us for supper. We’ve both original and extra crispy, and there’s another bottle of beer where that one came from.’
Jack appeared about to beg off when Gabbie entered the kitchen carrying paper bags filled with rolls, potatoes, and other accompaniments for the chicken. She was on the verge of some comment when she caught sight of Jack. For a brief moment the two young people stood facing each other in an obviously appraising fashion, and equally obviously both approving of what they saw. Jack’s face slowly relaxed into his biggest smile so far as Gloria said, ‘Jack Cole, this is Gabrielle.’
Jack and Gabbie exchanged nods, while Phil ordered the twins to wash up. Gloria fought off the urge to giggle. Gabbie absently touched her collar, her cheek, and a strand of dark hair, and Gloria knew she was dying for a mirror, comb, and clean blouse. And Jack seemed suddenly unable to sit comfortably. Gloria glanced from Jack to Gabbie and said, ‘Right, one more for dinner.’
Dinner was relaxed. Phil and Gloria, Jack and Gabbie sat around the kitchen table while the twins ate sitting on a crate before the television in the parlour. Jack had spoken little, for his questions had coaxed Phil into explaining the family’s move from California.
‘So then,’ said Phil, ‘with Star Pirates and Star Pirates II being such tremendous hits, and with me getting an honest piece of the box office, as well as a creator’s royalty on Pirates III, IV, and however many more they can grind out, I have what I like to call “go to hell” money.’
‘“Go to hell money”?’ asked Jack.
Gabbie said, ‘Dad means that he’s got enough money to tell every producer in Hollywood to go to hell.’ Gabbie had managed to find a mirror, comb, washcloth, and clean blouse and had barely taken her eyes off Jack throughout the evening.
‘That’s it. Now I can go back to what I did first, and best: write novels.’
Jack Cole finished eating and sat back from the table. ‘You’ll get no arguments from me. Still, most of your films were pretty good. The Pirates films had darn good writing compared to most others in the genre; I liked that sly humour a lot – made those characters seem real. And the plots made sense – well, sort of.’
‘Thank you, but even so, film’s more of a director’s medium. Even with an editor’s input, a book’s a single person’s product. And it’s been too many years since I’ve been able to write without story editors, directors, producers, other writers, even actors, all screaming for changes in the script. In films the writing’s done by committee. You’ve never lived until you’ve been through a story conference.’ There was a half-serious, half-mocking tone to his voice. ‘Torquemada would have loved them. Some idiot from a multinational conglomerate who needs to have every line of Dick and Jane explained to him is telling you how to rewrite scenes, so the chairman of the board’s wife won’t be offended. Or some agent is demanding changes in a beautifully thought out script because the character’s actions might be bad for the star’s image. There are agents who would have demanded a rewrite of Shakespeare – have Othello divorce Desdemona because his client’s fans wouldn’t accept him as a wife-murderer. Or the studio wants a little more skin showing on the actress so they can get a PG rather than a G, ‘cause they think teenagers won’t go to a G. It’s a regular Alice Through the Looking Glass out there.’
‘Is it really that bad?’ Jack asked.
Gabbie rose and began gathering up the paper plates and napkins. ‘If the volume of Dad’s yelling is any indication, it’s that bad.’
Phil looked wounded. ‘I don’t yell.’
Gloria said, ‘Yes you do. Several times I thought you’d smash the phone, slamming it down after speaking to someone at the studio.’ She turned to Jack. ‘You’ve been doing most of the listening,
