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calling it a day, boys. When you’re done with the fire, bury it. We’re coming up on fire season.”
“You bet,” Dylan said. “If we don’t see you in the morning…”
“I’m up early,” he said. “Knock before you go. It’s been a real pleasure.”
And then they were left, the Childress Aviation management, sitting on the porch steps in front of a small fire. A few moments of quiet passed before Lang asked, “So…this is really it for the company, huh?”
“Not necessarily. We’re definitely gonna have to lose the BBJ,” Dylan said, “but that should give us six months to figure out the next move. Either we find some charters for the Bonanzas and the Lear to keep us going or, the next step is, alternate work plans. We have a snowplow for the runway—maybe we start a little plowing business in the winter.”
Lang laughed. “I’ve been using that plow on my road anyway.”
“If you two can manage to find Montana on your own, I want to spend a little more time in California,” Dylan said. “I’m going to check out the smaller airports around here, see if there’s any work for our charters, any interest in a partnership. We have some things in common—charters into the mountains and isolated hunting and fishing locations. And also…” He paused. “I’m considering another idea. Sometimes over the years I’d hear from an old friend of mine, a producer, that he’d like to do a movie, if I had any interest. Jay Romney—he’s one of the good guys. I should listen to his ideas. It could keep us in business.”
“Make a movie?” Stu asked, suddenly interested.
Dylan lifted a corner of his mouth in a half smile. “I’ve made a couple of movies. And had that long-running sitcom as a kid.”
“Yeah, but make a movie now?” Stu asked.
“I could,” he said. “If the terms are right.”
“Would actresses be involved?” Stu asked.
Dylan laughed and Lang gave Stu a wallop to the back of the head.
“Hey! I’m just saying…”
“There would undoubtedly be actresses, but I have no idea what he has in mind. Could be a totally ridiculous sitcom reunion show of some kind, or it could be something else. But if there’s significant money, I should talk to him. Could buy Childress Aviation a couple of years and give the economy time to turn around.”
“I hate to think of you doing anything you hate,” Lang said. “Life’s too short.”
“What’s the big deal?” Stu asked. “Make a lot of money, date actresses, have some fun… Tell him I’ll do it.”
Lang and Dylan had been best friends since college, so Lang knew everything there was to know about Dylan’s childhood, but Stu didn’t.
“My experience as a child actor wasn’t good,” he said. “I thought it was at the time because I was spoiled and could have anything I wanted as long as I did the job I was paid to do because a lot of other jobs depended on it. But I was an ass. Every kid on that set was an ass and we were pure trouble—I’m sure people hated to deal with us. By the time I was thirteen my best friend, Roman, and I were fooling with liquor, pot and girls when we could get away with it, which was often. We pulled pranks, we busted up property, made off with cars we weren’t licensed to drive. I thought we were screwing around and having fun. We were cocky. Immune to failure. I didn’t really get that Roman was in over his head. He died of an overdose at the age of sixteen—he took a bunch of his mother’s pills and washed ’em down with rum, looking for a high. He had been my closest friend for a long time. We weren’t together the night he died. I was fifteen. The whole thing—it almost destroyed me.”
Stu was younger than Dylan and Lang and hadn’t been up to speed on the gossip surrounding Dylan’s Hollywood career. Plus, being a guy, he had no fascination with another guy’s antics. He merely whistled.
“My grandmother flew back to L.A. from London, took me to Roman’s funeral and got me out of Hollywood. She put her own career on hold and raised me in Payne until I went to college. She probably saved my life. So, going back to that lifestyle…”
“Yeah, but you’re not stupid anymore,” Stu said. “You’re older now.”
Dylan opened his mouth to speak, to explain that it was more complicated than that, that he had an entire family there in various levels of fame and infamy, from his half sister’s chronic problems with drugs to his half brother’s long running habit of trashing hotel rooms in which porn stars or hookers always seemed to be present. One stepsister was in drug treatment and a stepbrother in jail for dealing. And that was not to mention his mother, who he considered the worst of all. But before he could say any more, Lang put a firm hand on his shoulder and, in the dark, gave his head the smallest shake.
Don’t bother, he was saying. “All Stu wants is a girl to spend the night with. He’s not going to understand any of this.”
“Right,” Dylan said. “So I’ll get in touch with Jay and find out if this is just a lot of talk or if there’s real interest with a contract and money attached. And if it’s a way to keep us afloat a couple of years, I’ll consider it.”
Stu grinned hugely and stood up. “Call if you need backup on that movie or at some Hollywood parties!”
“You’ll be the first,” Dylan said drily.
And Stu ambled off to his cabin.
It was quiet around the fire for a minute before Lang said, “You probably should’ve told him you’re not keeping the BBJ, even if you get an Oscar.”
Dylan laughed.
“Don’t do this unless it really feels right,” Lang said. “Don’t do it for me. I can always manage, you know that.”
“Yeah? You have a wife and five kids.”
“Five brilliant kids. I’ll rent ’em out. Sell ’em to the circus.”
Dylan laughed with a shaking of his head. Lang and Sue Ann were the most devoted and conscientious parents Dylan had ever known.
“Seriously.”
“Yeah, trust me—I’m not stupid anymore,” he said, echoing Stu. “I’m older now.” And then with a touch of solemnity he said, “Trust me. I take this very seriously. Jay Romney’s a decent guy or I wouldn’t even talk to him.”
Lang stood up. “Do what you want, I’ve always got your back. But I’m with Walt—it doesn’t take that much to keep me happy and working. I’d be happy to run that snowplow around town until Childress Aviation gets on its feet again. I’m better at driving a snowplow than running a company anyway.”
Dylan stood and put out his hand. “Thanks, Lang. Can you manage without me while I stay behind?”
“You have to ask?”
“This is your chance to file a complaint with management.”
Lang just gave a snort of laughter. “You going to bed?” Lang asked.
“I might sit here awhile.”
“Kill the fire,” Lang reminded him. “See you in the morning. I expect a good send-off.”
Four
Katie laughed at what seemed like a perfect life shaping up. She’d had a great dinner with her brother last night—burgers on the grill with Leslie. She took her boys to the new Virgin River school, introduced them to Miss Timm, the teacher, and signed them up for the summer camp program. They needed at least one program to keep them busy, and to keep them from becoming bear food. She couldn’t watch them every second. Then she went back to her enchanted cabin in the woods and installed the newly purchased TV in the loft, hooking it up to the