All of my writing is fiction, and the stories and characters are products of my imagination. They were created for my fun and, hopefully, your enjoyment. Some of the events in the stories are not particularly condoned nor encouraged by the author but are there to create and enhance the story of the imaginary characters and their lives. Comments are always encouraged and carefully reviewed. All characters within the story that need to be are 18 years of age or older. I hope you enjoy! And take a second to vote and comment.
This story is a little longer than some of my others, and it's a bit slower developing as well. If you're looking for instant action, this might not be the story for you. If you enjoy learning a little about the characters involved, this one should fit that bill.
Three lines from Robert Frost's "The Road Not Taken" are quoted near the end.
*****
"Wynn, it's a simple line and a simple scene. Could we concentrate just the tiniest little bit and get this one done so we can move on?"
"Yeah, sorry, Simon. Upset stomach and no sleep," Wynn answered, shrugging.
"Wynn, that's
your
problem. Don't make it
my
problem. Now belch, or whatever you need to do, and let's get this damn scene done. Alex, take over. I've got stuff to do." Simon rolled his eyes at Wynn and, quite literally, stomped off.
Alex stepped in close. "You okay, Wynn? Are you high on something?"
"No, I'm not high, but I should probably be home in bed." Wynn was usually unperturbable, but he felt himself becoming annoyed.
"Well, get this right, and you can go to bed, but not at home."
Alex was right. He was in Pennsylvania and not California, Ligonier, to be more specific. He had a small house the studio had rented for him -- the owners were snowbirds who wintered in Florida and had left a little early to accommodate the movie people. Hopefully, he'd only need it for three months at most. The house was much smaller than he was used to, but located on a small road away from everything, it gave him privacy he wasn't used to.
Wynn nodded and stared at a wall, seemingly concentrating to ready himself for the short scene that begged to finally be done. Actually, he was upset with himself for stumbling over such simple lines. Memorizing had always been simple and of no concern. That was until he hadn't gotten the part he'd really lobbied for in what the producers said would be a blockbuster hit with multiple sequels. It hadn't been losing the money that grated at him but the explanation he received for losing the part. "Aaron just fits better." Four words that punched a significant hole in his self-image.
"Bastards," he muttered, "and bitch too."
"You say something, Wynn?" Alex asked, annoyance in his voice.
"Just practicing the lines."
"If everyone's ready, let's get this thing finished."
Wynn hit his lines, his acting, as usual, was spot on, and it was a wrap. As had been promised him, Wynn headed to his house for a nap.
Wynn's home in California wasn't a typical Hollywood mansion -- In fact, it wasn't a mansion at all, just a pleasantly large home where he could hide away from the unpleasant side of stardom, which, for him, was most of the flash and publicity that surrounded being at least a mid-level star. Of course, he enjoyed the money and the recognition of a job well done, but his passion was doing the best job possible and hoping it satisfied everyone.
But he wasn't there. He was in Pennsylvania, in a small hollow between large green hills of the Laurel Mountains, which lent itself to peaceful sleeping.
He slept for two hours, then began wondering what he'd do for the next two days. He was single with no girlfriends or other impediments to doing whatever he wanted to do whenever he wanted to do it. He loved roaming, where he was just another person and could experience things in the same way as everyone else did.
On the following day, which was a Thursday, he awoke feeling relaxed and ready for whatever the hours would provide. With nondescript clothing, a knit hat, and sunglasses, he set off.
*****
"Kristin, what are you doing here today?"
"Annie called me, and she sounded terrible, so I hopped on over to fill in." Kristin's radiant smile seemed to light up the entire diner, which could use a few more windows to brighten it up a bit.
"Sorry for Annie. She's a good lady, and I'm sorry she's sick. But you're a good lady too, Kristin, and I'm glad you'll be waitressing me today."
"Jimmy, I heard someone tell you the other day that we're servers and not waitresses anymore."
"What's the difference?"
Kristin laughed. "There's no difference, Jimmy. It's just a big-city thing, you know, and even here in Pennsylvania, we have to stay up to date on using the right words."
"Damn stupid if you ask me," Jimmy answered. "Doesn't change a thing."
"I guess it's important to some people."
Kristin carefully cleaned Jimmy's table.
"Hey, I think I heard somethin' about you, that you might be leavin' us."
"So, you heard I'd be starting to college?"
"That means you're leaving, doesn't it?"
"You can't get rid of me that easily. I'll do some classes online and some in person, but I'll still be working here."
"How's that online stuff work, Kris?"
She eyed him questioningly. "Do you have a computer, Jimmy?"
"Um, naw. Never had one."
"Would you like to have one?"
Jimmy furrowed his brow and looked puzzled.
"Wouldn't do me no good. I don't know how to use it."
"I could teach you. It's not that hard if you really want to learn."
"Kris, why would y'all do that for an old fart like me?"
Kristin laughed. "You may be an old fart, Jimmy, but I like you and enjoy it when you come in, and we talk a little. It would make me happy to help you learn about a computer."
Jimmy smiled, an extra sparkle in his eyes. "I may just take you up on that, Kristin. I just might."
"I'm counting on it."
Jimmy just shook his head, almost not believing what he'd just heard. But, he was thinking he might go into town and look up one of those computer places he'd seen advertised on the TV. He had some money. He decided. Before he did that, he'd check with Kristin first to see if she had some good advice for him.
The diner door swung open, and Woody Hoblyn strode in. "What a surprise. My girl, Kristin, is here today.
Kristin had begun to bristle when Woody came through the door, and his words completed the process. Normally she would snap at him, but that hadn't been working, so she decided to ignore him.
"Honey, come on, be nice to Woody."
Unfortunately, as long as she was on duty, she had to be nice to Woody, at least formally nice.
"Find a seat, Woody, and I'll take your order."
At least with several customers on hand, Woody would be restrained a little. She knew that Jimmy would step up for her if needed, too.
Being nice to Woody didn't mean she couldn't glare at him while she took the order. Woody had annoyed her like this for four years, and she had tired of it. She was fairly certain he was enjoying annoying her, perhaps repaying her for her continual rejection of his romantic overtures.
After she'd delivered Woody's food, Jimmy grabbed her arm.
"I think you got a customer that sneaked in while we were talking."
"Thanks, Jimmy," she said, patting his shoulder and heading to the far side of the diner.
"Hi there. Can I get you something to drink to start you off?"
The new customer had on a long-sleeve shirt, unusual for the still warm autumn day, a knit hat which was even more unusual, and sunglasses. Kristin didn't recognize him, but customers, new or old, were what kept them in business.
"I like the old wood floor," he said. "It creaked when I walked to the table."
Kristin chuckled. "I'm so used to it, I don't hear the noises any more."
He smiled. "Don't suppose you have wine," he answered, glancing around the room.
"I'm sorry, no, we don't. We do have beer."
