by Lisa Smartt
I dreaded the afternoon meeting with the movie studio. They’d been drawing up preliminary plans for a movie based on my second book. But I feared their version of Country Girls Can Survive if They Stockpile Peanut Butter would be like a Saturday Night Live spoof. The book was funny, yes. But there’s a fine line between humor and humiliation. And some folks seemed to take pride in blurring those lines.
My fears were soon realized.
“Ms. Jameson, we’re seeing Anna Collins as the lead. She’s got quite a following right now, especially with the younger demographic.”
“She’s best known for humiliating people. I think not.”
Mrs. Watson wrinkled her brow and said with a condescending laugh, “Wait a minute. You wrote a humorous book, but you don’t think a comedienne should play the lead?” She leaned back in her chair and removed her bright red glasses. “You seem hell-bent on finding your own leading ladies. By all means, enlighten us, Ms. Jameson.”
“Yes, I think someone funny should play the lead. But you don’t have to humiliate people to be funny. It’s a cheap laugh. Any fourth grader can do that. They do it on the playground every day. But to make people laugh without humiliating them…that takes talent. And talent, well, talent is what has made this studio great. Am I right?”
Mrs. Watson could only shake her head and smile. Needless to say, according to the publisher, we’re still in negotiations.
The journey to San Diego the next morning was the highlight of the trip. I stood in awe at the sheer number of support staff required to make an action movie. Evidently it takes a lot of manpower to make Jean-Claude Van Damme look good while blowing up half of California. I cringed as Ashley had to run through a dark alley and then verbally con the con artists at a coffee shop. In the final scene of the day, she ran off a ledge and into a large body of water. It would later be made to look like she jumped off the ledge of a building and landed in the bay.
By late afternoon, I was waiting patiently in her trailer. With her hair in a towel and make-up smeared down her right cheek, she walked through the door wearing baggy gray sweats and a big smile. “Well, what did you think?”
“I think you are amazing, Girlfriend! My word!”
“You didn’t think a fat girl could run that fast, eh?”
“I didn’t think anyone could run that fast.”
She reached out to hug me. “Well, didn’t you hear? Those mafia guys were chasing me. Wouldn’t that scare you enough to make you run for your life?”
I put both hands in the air as though I were making a pronouncement. “And this, my friends, is why Ashley is the actor and I’m the writer. Nothing could make me run that fast. I prefer a more sedentary form of creative expression.”
“Believe me, when I’m trying to get out of bed in the morning, I’ll wish I were a writer.”
“You look good, friend. You do.”
She laughed. “You must have low standards. I’m a mess.”
“No. I mean, you look like you’re happy. Doing well.”
She plopped onto the brown leather couch and pulled her knees to her chest like a teenager at a slumber party. “I am. We’re ahead of schedule. My part should be done within a month. I may have to come back down a few more times near the end of shooting. But yeah, I’ll be going home in a month.”
“Great! Why don’t you come to Sharon?”
She threw a grape in her mouth and paused. “Probably not this time.”
“But I’m sure you’re out of pickles by now!”
She laughed, “I’d love to come. But Over the Hills premieres about a week after I stop shooting. I’ll need to be in LA for that. Then the cast is going to New York and we’ll have to hit all the talk shows. It’s at least two weeks of pretty intense publicity stops.
“Yeah, of course. I hadn’t even thought about the movie premiere. So I guess that’s exciting, huh?”
She grimaced. “It is. And it isn’t. The movie is good, really good. I’m proud of it but…no, it sounds silly.”
“On the plane yesterday I listened to an older lady talk about the transition from baby food to blanched carrots…with all the gory details. Sadly, I have very low standards right now. Hit me, friend.”
She smiled as she used a wet wipe to clean her face. “I dread seeing Blake. I do. Then I think, ‘Grow up, Ashley. This isn’t eighth grade. You’re a professional.’ So I’m going to do my best to act like one. I’m going to do the appearances and be done with it. But I figure it might make all those regrets resurface. And nobody wants to go through that, right?”
“It might but you have the maturity to handle that. You’ll do fine. Now, let’s eat. Can’t a woman get anything other than fruit and nuts around this place?” I laughed, and then paused. “Please don’t quote me on that.”
Chapter 45 DAVE: Banking on Ben Peterson
I dreaded walking into the bank Monday morning but evidently they’d all had some serious “Welcoming people back from rehab” diversity training. Everyone was friendly and supportive but no one asked questions. Mostly, it was, “Welcome back, Dave!” Or “You look great!” Or “Mrs. Simpson refuses to talk to anyone else about her property note. She’ll be glad you’re back.”
Doug had cleared my desk so I’d be ready to start fresh. Gladys told me he stayed late every day for a month so he could do my work as well as his. That’s Doug. No loud clamor of welcome. No asking for credit.
I hadn’t seen or heard from Ashley since that day in rehab. More than three weeks now. Was I supposed to write to her after her visit to thank her for coming? Was she supposed to write to me saying she was sorry she had to leave in such a rush or that she was excited about my coming home? Or was Ben Peterson supposed to tell her, between scenes, that he was her one true love, that he was better than Blake Blanton and way better than a no-name recovering alcoholic? I figure the last scenario made the most sense. So I picked up the phone and called Mrs. Simpson to talk about her property note. Real world, here I come.
Chapter 46 CARLIE: Dusty and Clara and Will and Mandy and Molly and Beauregard…Oh My
“Beauregard? You’re kidding, right? Gosh, you had me going there for a minute, Clara. Seriously.” I poured another cup of coffee and sat it in front of my pregnant friend who was finally wearing maternity clothes.
Clara’s face grew dim, “No, I’m not kidding. Dusty’s not much of a reader but his favorite teacher read the class a book in sixth grade and the hero’s name was Beauregard. It had an impact on him. For a long time, he thought about what it would be like to be a hero, you know, like Beauregard.”
“Well, right. I mean, I’m all for childhood memories and certainly Dusty needs some good ones. And I’m glad fictional Beauregard blessed him. I am. But let’s not throw a dad-gum curse on your baby just to honor a childhood memory, right?”
“A name is not a curse.”
“Well, uh, yeah…tell that to Ima Pigg or Yura Buttinski.”
“That last one is Internet fiction, Carlie.” She started laughing, “Your name should be Ima Gullible.”
I grinned, “I’m just trying to love my nephew. You can’t fault a woman for that.”
“Right. But what about people who made it big despite an unconventional name? What about Oprah, Beyonce, Mr. T.?”
“Mr. T.? He’s like a hundred years old. And no offense, Clara, but your baby is not gonna be a large muscular man who speaks fear into people’s hearts. They could have called Mr. T. Daffodil and still… nobody was gonna mess with him on the playground. I’m sorry to state the obvious here, but with your tiny little bone structure, we need to equip this little guy for the playground. Think playground.”
She chuckled and stood up quickly. “You’re making me have to go to the bathroom.”
As she hurried down the hallway, I called out, “Think about it while you’re in there! That’s where he’ll be hiding if you name him Beauregard. He’ll be hiding in the bathroom!”
Within two weeks, Dusty and Clara had come to a c
ompromise I could live with (not that I really had a say). They were going to name their boy Beauregard Douglas McConnell and would call him Beau. I was thrilled they chose the name Douglas, after my beloved husband. Uncle Bart said Beau sounded like an uppity Nashville lawyer who couldn’t split wood. If they really wanted to name him after a book character, I thought they should name him Harry Potter McConnell or Ron Weasley McConnell. Even though Dusty and Clara love Uncle Bart and me fiercely, they obviously put very little stock in our opinions about names.
Chapter 47 DAVE: Who Needs E-Harmony when you have E-Interrogation?
Sunday Lunch at Snappy Tomato Pizza, Martin, TN
I knew it was coming. Just wasn’t sure when. Carlie brought it up like she was bringing up the weather. “So, Dave, when was it? When did you just…throw in the towel?”
“Throw in the towel? I’m just getting started. I’ve been attending meetings. The house is immaculate, or the bachelor version of immaculate anyway. Collin never wears a diaper. I thought you’d be giving me accolades. A life back on track and all that.”
“You know what I mean. I’ve kept quiet, thinking you’d eventually contact her.”
“First of all, I’m not sure you’ve ever kept quiet.” I grinned. “But if you mean Ashley, I finally got a grip on all that. I guess I was just star-struck. But the last few weeks, I’ve realized something about myself.”
“Do tell.”
“I always want what I can’t have. It’s a pattern. I’m serious. When I first met Shannon, she wasn’t interested in me at all. When I talked to her roommate, she told me not to bother. But guess what? It just made me want to be with her more. See? Even when I was a pastor, the church would grow but I wanted it to grow more. Shannon and I wanted a baby, but after we adopted Collin, I started talking about how we were gonna work the next adoption. I have a problem with contentment. I’m always looking around the corner. But I’m done with that. I’m living in the moment. Day by day. We all know Ashley was never more than mildly interested. I think she felt sorry for me, for Collin. And people can say what they want about power and money not changing a person, but it’s unrealistic to think it wouldn’t, at least a little. Yes, she’s a great person. But we’re on two different life courses and it’s time to face that. It takes some of the stress off. Really.”
“This doesn’t have anything to do with Emily Wilson, does it?”
I smiled and said emphatically, “Emily is a colleague, a friend, and no, it doesn’t have anything to do with her.”
Carlie looked concerned. “…Cause Mabel says that Emily talks about you non-stop when she comes to Sammy’s for lunch. It’s ‘Dave showed such courage.’ And ‘Dave is such a good dad.’ ‘Dave looks better than ever.’”
“Good. I’m thinkin’ about running for mayor of Sharon and at least I’ll have her vote.” I laughed. “Don’t worry about me, Carlie. Really. I’m good. Collin’s good. For the first time in my life, I’m fine with the status quo.”
“Good. Then you’ll have no problem coming to our house Tuesday night for The Tonight Show interview with the cast of Over the Hills.”
“That’s way past Collin’s bedtime.”
“I know. But you’ve got to bring him early the next morning anyhow, so just let him go to sleep at our house. His bed is still set up in the guest room. Come on. It can’t hurt. We’re all just being supportive of a friend. You are still her friend, right?”
“Sure. Yeah, no harm in that.”
Chapter 48 CARLIE: Tuesday Night Line-Up
At about 8 pm Aunt Charlotte came running in the house carrying a huge metal popcorn tin with a picture of a reindeer on it. “Hello, all. Hello! Carlie, you’ll never guess what I brought?”
Oh no. “Oh, I’m sure I won’t. Don’t keep me guessing.”
“It’s tater salad…tater salad made with sweet taters and green onions and relish…oh, and our pickles, them magic pickles.”
“I didn’t even know you could make potato salad with sweet potatoes.”
“Oh, most folks figure you can’t. But you can. I done proved it. Right here, right now. Oh, just wait till you taste it. Just wait.”
I smiled and said with a clear conscience, “I’m sure it will be like nothing I’ve ever had.”
Uncle Bart strolled in the door, carrying a loaf of Wonder bread and a half gallon of buttermilk. “Ever night ‘fore I go to bed, I eat three pieces of light bread covered in buttermilk. Seein’ as how we’re gonna be over here till past bedtime, I brought it with me.”
“That’s fine.” I patted him on the back. “I just hope you didn’t bring your footy pajamas ‘cause none of us wants to see that, Uncle Bart.”
He huffed and said with a smile, “Ain’t no real man wearin’ pajamas when he can sleep just fine in his undershorts.”
I carefully set the buttermilk in the fridge and said, “On behalf of the women and children, please keep your overalls on at all times.”
Brother Dan and Margaret brought in a bag of Doritos and a can of bean dip. Chester and Mrs. Ida brought in two bottles of off-brand ginger ale, which had been on sale two for a dollar at the Dollar General. With an air of sadness, Chester said, “I’m afraid they ain’t got no fizz left ‘cause they been rollin’ around in the trunk of the Taurus for nigh on a week.”
Dave walked in quietly carrying a coconut cake from E.W. James. “Collin’s already asleep in the car. He’s in his pajamas so I should be able to just move him into the guest room.”
I tried to tell the small crowd in the living room to keep it down in honor of Collin’s sleeping and his transfer from car seat to bed. But I felt like a single log trying to hold back Niagara Falls. Amazingly, despite the buzz and chatter, Collin never moved a muscle. Doug had gotten James down at 7:45. This was a great blessing as I quickly determined no minor child should be exposed to Aunt Charlotte’s Magic Pickle Sweet Potato Salad in a rusty reindeer popcorn tin.
At 10:15, I turned on the TV and told everyone to get a final plate of food. Of course, we were recording it on DVR but there was just something exciting about live viewing. Jay Leno never misses a night as host. I mean, not usually. But for some reason, comedian, Arthur Lockhart, was filling in for him and the show was being taped in New York City rather than California. The announcer joked that Jay was in an undisclosed location getting some much needed rest and doing some car shopping. Blessedly, our living room fell unusually silent in anticipation.
Arthur: “Tonight we have a special two-for-one privilege. Ashley Harrison became America’s sweetheart after her breakout Oscar-nominated role in last year’s A Single Woman’s Guide to Ordinary. Blake Blanton has starred in action films, comedies, and now as a romantic heartthrob opposite Ashley in the new period film, Over the Hills. Let’s give a big Tonight Show welcome to Ashley Harrison and Blake Blanton.”
Ashley looked beautiful, as always. Her hair was pulled up loosely on the back of her head like a bride. She wore shiny black pants with a semi-sparkly black sweater. Blake wore college student jeans and a tasteful tan pullover sweater. He rested his arm comfortably around Ashley’s waist as they walked toward the big desk to greet Arthur, and then sit in the hot seats. I glanced over at Dave. He was nervously shaking the ice in his plastic cup until Aunt Charlotte gently put her hand on the cup to silence him.
Arthur: “Welcome, welcome to you both. Jay sends his regards. Not really.” The crowd laughed. “We have no idea where he is. But it’s certainly a privilege to meet both of you. I’m a big fan of your work.”
Blake: “Thanks, Arthur. We’re fans of yours too.”
Arthur: “So everything I read about Over the Hills says it will be a big hit. You’ve got to be excited about that. I mean, Ashley, you were at the Oscars last year, an underdog fan favorite for best female actor. What’s it like to be in a film this year that’s touted as being Oscar worthy?”
Ashley: “Well, as my granddaddy used to say, ‘I’m happier than a pig in slop.’” The crowd roared with laughter. �
��Seriously, it’s a privilege to be part of a project that is this well-written, this well-directed. I’m proud of the film.” She glanced kindly at Blake. “I think we all are. I hope the fans like it as much as we do.”
Arthur: “Blake, the movie takes place in Ireland and you actually spent almost six months in Ireland during shooting. What was the best part of being on the Emerald Isle for half a year? Did you learn anything about Irish culture? Or beer?” Laughter rang out.
Blake: “Oh, they’re definitely serious about their beer over there. No doubt. Did I learn anything?” He looked out on the crowd and said with enthusiasm, “Yeah, I learned that Irish women make better lovers.” Arthur gave him a high five as the crowd cheered.
Arthur: “Oh, now you’re bringing back memories of an old college girlfriend, Erin McDonough. Aye, what a lass she was. What a lass!”
Blake: “Wait, did you say ‘lass’ or something else?’” Arthur bent his head back in laughter while Ashley looked like a shy girl who got stuck in the Junior High boys’ locker room. Dave sat quietly with his arm around Aunt Charlotte. He looked up at me and shook his head ever so slightly then looked down at the carpet like he’d gotten food poisoning. But I knew he hadn’t gotten near the reindeer tin of sweet potato salad.
Arthur: “Well, you mentioned the Irish women, but word on the street is that you two had a little somethin’ goin’ on on the set. Ashley, are you here to confirm or deny reports that you and Blake here may have found your own little American-Irish love connection?”
Ashley smiled with such pleasantness, such dignity.
Ashley: “Actually, Arthur, I’m here to talk about this unbelievably good movie called, Over the Hills. You should see it. It’s amazing.” The crowd laughed and clapped wildly. Clearly, they were with her, for her.
