Don Scribner’s Blog Actor, Screenwriter, Songwriter, Singer

More of the book

It was time for me to hint at a question or two.   “Nice neighborhood.”
“It can be scary at night.”
We continued without breaking stride.  “You have a condo, apartment or what?”
“Four-plex.”  We continued walking and neared Ventura boulevard and the lights.  I wanted to ask her if she rented or what, but felt it was out of place.  Must be that Virgo quality because she read my mind.  “I bought it years ago as an investment.  The three rentals pay my mortgage and everything else.  It’s been good to me.”
Kung Pao is one of my pet places… inexpensive, lack of pretence, plenty of seating and tasty food.  The waiter gave us menus and water immediately and returned in a couple of minutes pen in hand.  Now, I always get my favorite hot and spicy garlic chicken and was about to order that when reality set in.  I’m with the woman of my dreams so stay away from the garlic on the slim chance you can kiss her goodnight.  “I’ll have chicken cashew please and a large sizzling rice soup.”  I hoped Missey would share.  She did and added that she loved my choice.
Because I cared about her I found myself taking the scratches on her car personally.  “If I talked to you as a writer Missey I would be asking if someone in your life would have reason to damage your car?”
“I’m a private person.  I go out of my way not to offend people and to be around problems and I’m not into gossip.”
The meal was spent making comments about the restaurant and food.  It was easy to see that she was affected by the entire day.  I wanted to provide some soothing words of opinion, but thought better of it.

6-17-09 more of the book

Missey turned left after the school and pulled into an interesting parking structure for a four-plex.  She had her own parking spot, but had to literally perform an interesting and challenging act of driving to park safely.  She did it like a pro and was out in seconds, leaving me surprised and looking for a place on the street.  There were many.
I can park a truck with the best of them and did so quickly.  I exited and met her at my car door.  We had about a four-block walk to Kung Pao and I reached for her hand.  She gave it freely.  I loved it.  Now, the area is actually dark, as in poorly lit at night, which so often indicates opportunity for crime.  But, there were only a couple of cars parked on the street, and her car was in the far left of four in her structure.  Someone had to select that car to vandalize.  What else… random violence?  Anything is possible.  But, I’d bet my writer’s pseudonym that this was personal and that made me want to hold her hand all the firmer.

more of the book

We walked out side by side to the stares of more than a few.  I stood a little taller and must have shone because of a halo of pride.
Missey parked in her usual spot across the street.  Of course, I parked there, also…  nothing like having hope.  It was a typical southern California evening, going down from the high 80’s and almost cool enough for a long sleeve shirt.  What an incredible climate to live in.  It was in the beautiful temperature that Missey made sure I realized we were not a couple.  She went directly to her car and gave me directions.  “It’s up Carpenter, the first left past the school.”  She got in her car and started it up.
I hustled over to mine and did the same.  Following her I realized that I wouldn’t care to be anywhere else right now.  We came to a light and I hoped she wouldn’t try to make it through on a yellow.  She didn’t.  She was aware and I was totally aware of her.  She drove like an accountant… sitting straight and being careful.  She may have some risk in a deep place within her, but I surmised that she absolutely meant “I’m just a girl.”  There is no pretense or wanna-be with Missey.  What you see is what you get.  And, I loved it, loved it, loved it.
It’s a good thing that it only took a few minutes to get there, because I was falling more for her while following.

Whatever is happening in life is at times pushed aside for a moment because of surprise and elation and that’s what just happened.  The sensation I was experiencing in that lower center part of my chest was seismic with rumbles and tremors.  This was a moment of complete happiness.  I felt like a kid and the vision of her smile would not soon be forgotten.  Her face registered trust and I realized connection.
Every relationship you have in life is different… every love is new… and to sense being a child in that situation was to touch the rapture of depth.  Nothing is beyond reach of children because the dream is there.  Suddenly I became incredibly powerful because of reality… her four letter word, ‘okay’.
We walked out side by side to the stares of more than a few.  I stood a little taller and must have shone because of a halo of pride.

6-2-09 more of the book

That piqued my curiosity because Missey said it so matter-of-factly and I turned and watched them sign for a moment or two.  Moustache man did have a feminine flair to his movements, but his body was more blockish making me think matronly.  I asked her why she thought that.
“It was the way he ordered his drink one night… vodka rocks.”
“I drink that sometimes.”
“I know… it was just the way that he said ‘rocks’.  It was kind of stretched out.  I don’t know.”  She tried to replicate his delivery and I enjoyed watching and listening.  “You were here that night.  I was standing at the bar talking to someone and you were sitting across from us.  I probably shouldn’t say this, but people always said that you watched me.”
“I do… I mean I did… and do, I still do.”
“Knowing that makes me a little uneasy.”
“That’s the last thing I would want to do.  I’m not obsessed.  I’m impressed and affected by the way you inhabit space… I don’t know.  I’ll say it again; I think you are remarkably beautiful.”  I was starting to sound like I was obsessed and quickly countered that.  “I’ll stop.  It won’t be easy, but I’ll stop.”
“I was also flattered.  Someday I’ll tell you why.”
Those incredible words indicated future.  I was so content I leaned back and took a deep breath realizing something significant just happened to me.  I was a happy camper, but didn’t know what to say so came out with the juvenile.  “Would you like another drink?”
Missey looked at her almost full glass.  “What would I do with it?”  I smiled and acknowledged her humor.  “I have to eat.  It’s just that I was too upset about my car to even think about it before.”
“Do you want something here?”
“No… it’s fine, but no.”
“You said you live in Studio City, how about something there, near your place.  I could follow you… park, maybe even walk.  I’d love to walk with you.  I would really love to walk with you.”
“You repeat things once in a while.”
“I know.  I know.  I do it for emphasis… emphasis.”
She smiled at my humor.  “Okay.”

6-12-09 more of the book

“And, he loves women.  We have something in common.”
She looked at me with the eyes of a skeptic.  I sometimes dislike my ability to discern thoughts of others.  But, it was evident that Missey did not appreciate being in the group of ‘something in common.’  I tried to recover.
“Some women are incredible.”  She didn’t respond, but I could see the hint of acceptance even as she watched a herd of people arrive.  My thought was that Los Angeles has too few country bars and could easily handle a few more.  But, that was personal greed.  The place was busy now… in fact, full as was the line for drinks.  The bartender was swamped and a sudden lack of ease of movement in the place, dictated for me, uncomfortable.  We both watched the bustle for a minute or two until I finally said:  “Melanie could handle this crowd.  She’s one of the best bartenders I’ve seen.”
“I hadn’t noticed.  I usually only have one drink.”
I noticed off in the corner, by the coffee pot that continuously brews, a guy who is deaf (and I’m sorry that I don’t know his name) was signing with a guy I recognized I think… He was somewhat slight with a moustache.  I found the signing fascinating and talked about it.
“Do you know the guy who is deaf?”
Missey glanced in the direction that I was obviously looking.  “Sorry, I only know the people who dance.”
I suspected that because I rarely saw her move around talking to people.  However, I wanted to share my thoughts with her.  “He’s having a conversation with some guy… signing.  I think it’s beautiful.
Missey was still watching them.  “I think he’s gay.”
That comment set me back and made me think.  “Which one?”
“The guy with the moustache.”

6-10-09 more of the book

“And, he loves women.  We have something in common.”
She looked at me with the eyes of a skeptic.  I sometimes dislike my ability to discern thoughts of others.  But, it was evident that Missey did not appreciate being in the group of ‘something in common.’  I tried to recover.
“Some women are incredible.”  She didn’t respond, but I could see the hint of acceptance even as she watched a herd of people arrive.  My thought was that Los Angeles has too few country bars and could easily handle a few more.  But, that was personal greed.  The place was busy now… in fact, full as was the line for drinks.  The bartender was swamped and sudden lack of ease of movement in the place, dictated for me, uncomfortable.  We both watched the bustle for a minute or two until I finally said:

6-08-09 More of the book

I had my elbows on the table, hands cupped before my chin and leaning in listening to her.  It was then that I realized I and had been oblivious to the band.  The small audience began cheering and whistling.  And, Missey had been just as uninvolved.  “I guess we missed something.”  She finally took a sip from her drink.  “I’m sorry.  It’s just some scratches.  Other people have real problems.”
“I love your attitude, however part of an Angolan proverb says; ‘The one who throws the stone forgets; the one who is hit remembers forever.’  You my dear were the one hit.”
Missey took an actual swallow from her drink and looked around the bar finally settling on the stage where Billy Revel was playing music that was worth any moment.  What was so interesting about his blues playing is that it completely encouraged dancing.  He played with country beat.  Missey smile was full and she now appeared relaxed and ready to just enjoy.  Her eyes then drifted to the dance floor where a few couples were now doing their thing… a two step.  Billy certainly can put the country in blues… I loved it.
This entire evening was making me feel confident and I stood and extended my hand.  “Would you care to dance?
“Getting brave aren’t you?”  She placed her hand in mine and I led her to the floor.  The dance was a continuation from the last time.  I raised my left hand on the slow-slow and Missey did things and came back to my arms.  “You’re in control.  Whatever way your hand turns I turn.  You’re truly doing a great job… making me look good.”
I suddenly discovered that I could now talk and dance.  “You look more than good.  You look incredible.”
“You wear glasses, right?”
“Yeah, and when I put them on you look even better.”
The song ended… and it was exceptional… and we returned to our seats.  I examined the crowd, primarily because it was a touch different than the norm and suspected that some of the band’s friends were here.  Whoa, in walked the little old man with a woman.  No wonder why I hadn’t seen him in a while.  Just then the band broke into a blues type salsa and they walked right onto the floor.  It was beautiful.  I loved it and couldn’t keep my eyes off them even with heaven next to me.  Life’s an attitude and age comes from within.
Missey leaned into me.  “He’s eighty-seven.”
“And, he loves women.”

5-07-09 More of the Book

“What’s the parking like there?”
“Plenty of room and I always park a safe distance away from anyone.  I don’t want car door dings.”
She was truly affected by this and I could understand.  It seemed an aggressive act… personal.  It disturbed me and my mind was rolling with possibilities.  Did the marking mean something?  Was it a gang symbol?  Does Missey have enemies?”
“What’s the parking like at your home?”
“I have a open parking place and I know it’s not secure, but I’ve been there for five years and nothing like this has ever happened.  I feel safe there.”
I tried to reassure her regardless of what scenarios were tumbling through my thoughts.  Her hands were clutching her drink and she hadn’t taken a sip yet.  I placed one of her hands in mine.  “It’s probably just a random act of vandalism.  What did the police say?”
“They were actually concerned and very nice.  I called them from home because I knew it wouldn’t do any good to call anyone up by Castaic.  It wouldn’t be the right district or whatever… I live in Studio City.  They came and took pictures and told me it didn’t look like gang markings.  Then they looked at all the parked cars and didn’t see any other scratches, thanked me for making a report and told me to contact my insurance company… which, I had already done by the way.

More of my book

My smile broadened when I spotted Missey.  After entering, she stopped near the door showing surprise at the lingering cheers for the band.  Her deep blue top was beautiful and I knew would accent her eyes.  Her jeans just simply would accent everything.   She turned and walked further in spotting me.  We both did a subtle finger wave of recognition.
In the few seconds it took for her to reach my table I had already order a stoli tonic by mouthing it to the waitress.  I rose and gave Missey a hug… that was for my benefit.  When we broke I looked at her and actually shook my head in wonderment.  I wanted to say that I could look at her forever, but I didn’t.  “You look beautiful.  Blue is a good color for you.”
“Thank you.  Here’s your book.”  She looked incredible, but was nervous, if not edgy.  “I’m upset about my car… it scares me.”
“Where’d you park?”
“Across the street.”
“I’ll be right back.  I want to see it.  I’ve already ordered you a drink, so lock up your purse.”
With that I was out the door, sprinting across the street and standing at her passenger door.  I was shocked.  This was a huge, angry scratch, stretching close to four feet.  I felt chills because of its violent implication and found myself walking back thinking about it.  When I got back to the table her drink had just arrived.  I paid the barmaid and sat down.  “I would have noticed that.  It happened after you dropped me off.  Did you call the police?”  She shook her head and I asked another question.  “Where did you go after dropping me off?”  She looked at me with reluctance.  “I’m just trying to narrow down where it could have happened.”
“I didn’t go anywhere but home and to work.”
“Then it happened at your home.  That should help the police.”
“It could have happened at work.  It was two hours before I was told.”