Page 42 of The Bodyguard's Fall

I sucked in a breath through my nose. “I took a self-defense class.”

“Where? What kind?”

I sighed, picked up a fry, and drowned it in ketchup. “It was an online class I found, okay? It was pretty good.”

“You’re joking.” He looked both incredulous and delighted at this news, which only made my chin lift higher. “Why would you voluntarily give me information like that?”

“It was a very informative class.”

“Who taught it?”

“Sensei Smith.”

His hand slowly covered his mouth while I kept on talking.

“It covered the basics. Told me right where to kick. How to get out of a tight grip. Apparently, my elbows are very powerful tools. Stop looking at me like that! It was helpful! I haven’t exactly been leaving my house much these days.”

To my relief, he sobered quickly.

He stopped pressing me. I declined his offer of a milkshake. He paid our bill, waved away my offer to pay, and got us back to the truck without incident.

When we were back on the interstate, he said, “Alright, back to your screenplay. What about a past murder? Nothing on the page, but they’re trying to solve the case?” He looked at me with such hope in his eyes that I paused and pretended to consider it.

“On-the-page grief is fine, to give some weight and relatability to the characters. Just not murder. It brings a whole different vibe.”

“Can you have blood?”

My eyes flicked up to his. “Nothing more than a nosebleed.”

A pause.

“Car chase?”

I huffed out a laugh. “They film these movies in two weeks. The production crew definitely wouldn’t have the time or the money to film a car chase. And I can’t figure out why I would need one.”

He touched his forehead, shaking his head before focusing his attention back on the road. “Well, if you don’t know the answer to that, then I can’t help you.”

I channeled my boss, remembering her speech when my company switched genres. “We’re not producing epic cinema. The world has Hollywood for that. We’re producing goodness and hope and something you can watch with your family.”

“Unless it’s lame, and then nobody will want to watch it.”

At my frustrated glower, he wiped the smile off his face and raised his hand in surrender. “All I’m saying is, take a look at what you already have and see if adding some things you love into your plot might help you write it. You’re not making any progress on what you’ve got so far, so maybe your plot isn’t interesting enough to you. That’s all. Don’t eat me.”

A laugh bubbled out of my throat at that.

Me: HELP. I am currently stuck in a truck with Tate Walker, who is giving me ideas for my ROMANCE screenplay.

Reese: I think that’s enough to go on right there.

Me: Trust me, it’s NOT.

Ari: She’s right. Lean into that!

Me: GUYS. FOCUS!

Reese: I thought you were in a tractor?

ME: We’re running errands today.