"What are you writing?" I ask Jamie as I slowly make my way toward her table. She's dressed in a white linen dress with long kimono sleeves that dwarf her slight body. The restaurant is half-full and she's managed to secure a table away from the drunken gamblers and sun-stroked tanning addicts. It's darker now, nearly nine o' clock and the air smells bizarrely fresh, like it had rained while I was in my room, passed out on pain meds. But the ground beneath my feet kicks up dry and dust coats my once-shiny shoes and I know it's not true. It just smells fresh. Looks fresh.
Bloody hell, these drugs are great.
She looks up at me with accusatory eyes that fade quickly, like a mask is placed over her face. She's placated and false, but I don't care. I just want my interview, I want it over. I want to go back to bed and stare at the ceiling and think about things that don't make sense.
She nudges a full glass of wine toward me with her elbow and says, "I'm surprised you showed."
"I'm not thinking properly," I tell her, pulling out a seat. "Monkey rabies and all."
She smiles, light and quick and shuts her diary.
"So what are you writing?" I repeat myself.
****
And so, that's all she wrote, folks. And by she, I mean me. Hopefully I can continue this story here and there, working off the original screenplay. Otherwise I may just throw the script up here in it's entirety so you can see how the story pans out.
YOU ARE READING
Lost in Wanderlust
RomanceLost in Wanderlust is actually a screenplay I wrote back in 2006. Believe it or not, it caught the interest of a few production companies. Unfortunately, the script would have been too expensive to film and since then, it's languished in a drawer so...
