“Maybe.” J.P. grinned. “I guess it depends on what kind of people and places you’re dreaming up for this romantic comedy that the ladies of Sea Pines are going to be running around the plantation with copies of next summer.”
“Fine. Just remember, this is stuff that someonewantsme to write. The type of booksIwant to write are much deeper, smarter, and more intelligent.”
“I get it. You’re not the warm and fuzzy, get swept off your feet, fall head over heels, kind of girl.” Her rolled his eyes.
She took a pause at hearing those words come out of his mouth. She wondered if she’d be happier being a little more of that kind of girl and a little less the overly cautious and practical one that she always was.
“These are the top three contenders, as of now. An aspiring actress from Toad Suck, Arkansas, works two jobs and saves her earnings for a year so she can make the trip to Park City, Utah, to volunteer at the Sundance Film Festival. She’s assigned to help at a bus stop for the shuttle system that transports festival goers from theater to theater. There, she befriends one of the regular passengers, whom she eventually learns is one of the most revered film directors in the industry. He casts her in a film he’s directing, she wins an Oscar for her performance, they fall in love and live happily ever after.”
“That sounds like it has real possibilities. Park City would be a cool setting. But Toad Suck? Where did you pull that?”
“I never heard of a famous person coming from Toad Suck, so I thought it sounded like a real stretch for this young girl from an obscure place to strike it big at life and love. That’s the whole point of these chick flicks, right? For the seemingly impossible to become possible.”
“Absolutely, I love it. But you mean to tell me that you didn’t make up that name? Toad Suck is a real place?” J.P. asked with his eyes wide in disbelief.
“Oh yes, it’s a real place. The story goes that there was a tavern in Perry County along the Arkansas River where local fisherman would suck down so much beer that they’d swell up like toads. I bet Gregg Russell didn’t know that. Reporter nerds acquire a lot of bizarre trivia, too.” Kenny laughed.
“That’s as obscure as knowing that fly fisherman Brian Vaughn broke a world record in 2018 when he caught a thirty-five-pound crevalle jack in Calibogue Sound. We would dominate at bar trivia,” J.P. said, beginning to think that the two would be compatible in more ways than winning at a game that would score them a free basket of chicken wings on a Tuesday night. “What else have you got?”
“How about this? A student who is getting his MFA in photography from RISD—Rhode Island School of Design—is scheduled to go on a class trip to a game reserve in South Africa for a few weeks to work on his wildlife portfolio. But when there is a mix-up with his passport and required travel vaccines, he bitterly ends up backstage at New York’s Fashion Week. Things get worse when the Chanel models fly in from Paris and there is a language barrier.”
“This guy seems to be in a win-win situation. Surrounded by beautiful women he’s forced to get up close and personal withandthey don’t speak English. So, he doesn’t have to pretend to listen to them complain about how difficult it is to walk up and down a runway? I see no dilemma.” J.P. shook his head.
“You’re such a guy.” Kenny rolled her eyes. “You didn’t let me finishandyou’re missing the point. “Things begin to turn around when the CEO of the fashion company arrives in New York. She’s the brains behind the company, who lives in London and speaks English. She’s not tall or waif-thin or glamorous in anyway; she doesn’t have a sexy accent, but she does tell the photographer that the models have been swooning over him. In an unlikely choice, the photographer falls for the plain Jane CEO, not the beautiful models. And the two live happily ever after.”
“I’m sure the CEO was slightly attractive. She might not be a model, but she still works in fashion. It must be some type of requirement?”
“Are guys really that superficial?” She glared. “Don’t answer that. The last contender is about a highly decorated former combat pilot who starts flying international flights for United Airlines in and out of Dulles International Airport after he was honorably discharged from the army and falls in love with a TSA agent.”
“Let me guess, they live happily ever after.”
Kenny shot him daggers that quickly morphed into a smile. “The last one isn’t my favorite. At first, I had the TSA agent being a flight attendant but that’s too cliché, like a doctor falling for a nurse. It’d all be very predictable.”
“Agree. I’m also not a fan of the Washington D.C. airport as a setting. Are they going to get to know each other over an overpriced candy bar from the Hudson News Stand or cold slice of Sbarro’s pizza at Gate A22? As a reader, I’d much prefer to be taken to Park City, Utah,” J.P. stated.
“What about the second scenario?”
“I’d be more inclined to read it if the photographer ended up on a safari in South Africa. You know my thoughts on New York.” J.P. laughed.
She slowly rocked back and forth in her chair and looked up at the clear sky that was brightly lit with stars. “Thanks for hearing me out, J.P. People say the hardest part about writing is letting other people read your work. But it’s just as hard to share your ideas.” She brought her gaze back down and turned her head to him.
“Anytime. I like to hear what you’re thinking. Can I get you another?” He motioned to Kenny’s almost empty plastic cup.
“No. Thank you, though. I haven’t been drinking much since I’ve been down here. Another one would go right to my head. I should probably start heading home.” She leaned forward in her chair and tapped Cliff on the head, who had fallen asleep and not stirred since they sat down.
“I should probably get going, too. Mr. C will be in his office with guns blazing tomorrow. He’s all hyped up about the Jekyll Island opportunity.Andhe called for an impromptu Employee Appreciation Weekend. Like I said, he doesn’t do anything small, so it’ll be a busy few days of entertaining the staff.” J.P. popped to his feet.
“You have fun with that. I’m happy I ran into you . . . again. And thanks for the drink.” She started to walk away.
“Kenny, wait.” J.P. took a step in her direction.
Alarmed by the sound of her own name, she halted and spun around so her face was almost resting on J.P.’s chest. She took a step back and looked up.
“Can I take you to dinner? How about next Wednesday? There’s a great seafood place off the plantation on New Orleans Road. It’s called Charlie’s. I think you’d really like it.” J.P. looked so deeply into Kenny’s eyes that she felt like he was staring through them.
“That sounds great, I’d love to go to dinner with you,” she softly responded.
“Great it’s a date,” he confidently said as he leaned in and gave Kenny a kiss on the cheek near the corner of her right lip crease.
