Read Online Scared Scriptless by Alison Sweeney - Free Book Online
Authors: Alison Sweeney
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He’s talking about making some changes on the development side.”
I couldn’t help but make a face—changes at the top make everyone nervous.
“Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.” He took my hand and started playing with the braided string bracelet my mom made me the last time I was home. Luckily it’s a pretty tame version of her many artistic endeavors, so I’m happy to humor her and wear it, although jewelry is not usually my thing.
“Then why all the secret meetings?”
“Ah, so people are talking.”
Damn it, I wasn’t supposed to reveal that, but he didn’t press me for details.
“The good news is that Hogan is excited for the future of HCP. He isn’t just coasting on the success of
The Wrong Doctor
. He wants more. I just…” He hesitated, and probably out of habit more than worrying that the random strangers at Casavega care about our conversation, he leaned in closer. “I want Hogan to give me a chance to run Development too.” He gave my hand a squeeze. “I know I can count on you to not say anything to anyone about this. I want to get my ducks lined up and then go to him with a proposal.”
On the one hand, I was thrilled that he confided in me. On theother hand, I’m uncomfortable thinking that he probably never would have told me his plan if he knew about my relationship with Hogan. I kept meaning to tell him about it, but how do I do it now? I don’t want Craig to think I actually have any influence over Hogan, because I don’t. But I don’t know how to tell him now without him thinking I’ve been keeping something from him.
As if I have conjured him with my thoughts, Craig calls.
“Morning, Maddy.” Craig’s voice rings through the Bluetooth speaker of the car. He still has his morning voice, which I decide I like. Very much. It’s kind of husky and understated, without his usual polish.
“Hey, you. Did you just get up?” The clock on the dash reads 7:48.
“No, I’ve been up for about twenty minutes. Just watching last night’s
Sports Center
. How far are you? Did you really get up at five-fifteen?”
“Well, five, actually, and I was on the road by five-thirty.” Yup, I have this super annoying habit of waking up about ten or fifteen minutes before my alarm goes off. Almost every morning. It hurts because I could really use the extra ten minutes of shut-eye. But I know if I set my alarm for ten minutes later, I wouldn’t be able to sleep for worrying that would be the one morning I wouldn’t do it. “I got to see a beautiful sunrise, and I’m making good time.”
“And I haven’t even made coffee yet. You inspire me, Maddy. I need some of your energy.”
I don’t know if it’s energy, per se. I do think it’s that I was raised getting up early to hit the slopes when they open, or to get on the lake for the best conditions or before the crowds. And now working in TV, we’re either up at “Oh-dark-thirty” or we don’t start until 10:00 p.m. and we’re filming all night, and I’m back in bed well after the sun comes up. The good news is that I cansleep anywhere, any time. The bad news is, never for long and very restlessly. I’m always afraid there’s going to be a problem with someone on the crew or cast, so I have to leave my phone on all night. When we’re in production, I’m like a doctor—always on call. One of the best parts of going home is the naps. I can’t wait to sneak in a few, under my mom’s quilted afghan (another of her hobbies) on our old couch.
“So, you’re back in town on Monday, right?” Craig asks.
“Yep, I’m sure next week is going to be crazed after the holiday weekend, but maybe we can do something next Saturday, in the morning? We could go for a walk up to the Griffith Observatory.” Given Craig’s anxiety levels these days, he could use some time in nature, as opposed to some overcrowded brunch spot in Santa Monica, which is what I imagine he would suggest.
“Aren’t you going to be hiking at home?
I couldn’t help but make a face—changes at the top make everyone nervous.
“Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.” He took my hand and started playing with the braided string bracelet my mom made me the last time I was home. Luckily it’s a pretty tame version of her many artistic endeavors, so I’m happy to humor her and wear it, although jewelry is not usually my thing.
“Then why all the secret meetings?”
“Ah, so people are talking.”
Damn it, I wasn’t supposed to reveal that, but he didn’t press me for details.
“The good news is that Hogan is excited for the future of HCP. He isn’t just coasting on the success of
The Wrong Doctor
. He wants more. I just…” He hesitated, and probably out of habit more than worrying that the random strangers at Casavega care about our conversation, he leaned in closer. “I want Hogan to give me a chance to run Development too.” He gave my hand a squeeze. “I know I can count on you to not say anything to anyone about this. I want to get my ducks lined up and then go to him with a proposal.”
On the one hand, I was thrilled that he confided in me. On theother hand, I’m uncomfortable thinking that he probably never would have told me his plan if he knew about my relationship with Hogan. I kept meaning to tell him about it, but how do I do it now? I don’t want Craig to think I actually have any influence over Hogan, because I don’t. But I don’t know how to tell him now without him thinking I’ve been keeping something from him.
As if I have conjured him with my thoughts, Craig calls.
“Morning, Maddy.” Craig’s voice rings through the Bluetooth speaker of the car. He still has his morning voice, which I decide I like. Very much. It’s kind of husky and understated, without his usual polish.
“Hey, you. Did you just get up?” The clock on the dash reads 7:48.
“No, I’ve been up for about twenty minutes. Just watching last night’s
Sports Center
. How far are you? Did you really get up at five-fifteen?”
“Well, five, actually, and I was on the road by five-thirty.” Yup, I have this super annoying habit of waking up about ten or fifteen minutes before my alarm goes off. Almost every morning. It hurts because I could really use the extra ten minutes of shut-eye. But I know if I set my alarm for ten minutes later, I wouldn’t be able to sleep for worrying that would be the one morning I wouldn’t do it. “I got to see a beautiful sunrise, and I’m making good time.”
“And I haven’t even made coffee yet. You inspire me, Maddy. I need some of your energy.”
I don’t know if it’s energy, per se. I do think it’s that I was raised getting up early to hit the slopes when they open, or to get on the lake for the best conditions or before the crowds. And now working in TV, we’re either up at “Oh-dark-thirty” or we don’t start until 10:00 p.m. and we’re filming all night, and I’m back in bed well after the sun comes up. The good news is that I cansleep anywhere, any time. The bad news is, never for long and very restlessly. I’m always afraid there’s going to be a problem with someone on the crew or cast, so I have to leave my phone on all night. When we’re in production, I’m like a doctor—always on call. One of the best parts of going home is the naps. I can’t wait to sneak in a few, under my mom’s quilted afghan (another of her hobbies) on our old couch.
“So, you’re back in town on Monday, right?” Craig asks.
“Yep, I’m sure next week is going to be crazed after the holiday weekend, but maybe we can do something next Saturday, in the morning? We could go for a walk up to the Griffith Observatory.” Given Craig’s anxiety levels these days, he could use some time in nature, as opposed to some overcrowded brunch spot in Santa Monica, which is what I imagine he would suggest.
“Aren’t you going to be hiking at home?
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