“If that’s the case, shouldn’t you find happiness while you can, even in an alley?”

John grinned. “Well, it wasn’t a Humvee.”

“I never should have told you that story.”

John wished he had Anna’s number so he could make clear that he didn’t routinely, or ever actually, make out with customers. She had made some assumptions, though. “She sorta gave me a casting director look.”

“Seriously?”

He nodded.

“What the hell is wrong with people?”

John shook his head. “I’m not in LA to date. I’m only here to get my movie made. All I want to do is sell this script and go—”

“Live in your house in Oregon.” Clara rolled her eyes. “The one you carved out of a log.”

“I didn’t carve a house out of a tree trunk.” John had spent his summers out of school helping his uncle build it. The hillside retreat felt like a lighthouse with an unwavering glow as he navigated the storms of the movie business. Just the reminder of it calmed him. “Actually, I did carve a table out of maple wood. It turned out really nice, but that’s not important.”

“If you move up there, you’re going to grow a beard and talk about beer all the time.”

“Take that back,” John said, pointing with his beer. He set the bottle on the counter. “You can come visit, and I will prove to you that I won’t grow a beard.”

“You’re going to start homebrewing, aren’t you?”

“But before I can do that, though,” John said, ignoring Clara’s oft-repeated opinions on craft beer, “I need a job.”

Clara regularly managed a small team of waiters for a caterer. Occasionally, John worked for her. Maybe she would feel sorry for him, given his pathetic dating life.

“No.”

Maybe not.

“The last time you worked on my team, you pitched two producers from Rialto and left me by myself to plate the asparagus spears.”

“All I’m asking is the opportunity to serve you to the best of my ability as a waiter.”

“You’re going to pitch that movie again.”

“Of course I’m going to pitch that movie again. One of the biggest agents in town is going to be there.”

Tom Melton was at the top of the list of agents who could package his movie. If one of the marquis actors he represented was interested in a starring role, John would be able to write his own ticket. Sure, the studio and the star might want some rewrites or want to give some notes, but if John stayed attached, he could make sure his movie wasn’t decimated.

“How can you ignore gossip but be familiar with the schedule of a Hollywood agent?”

“I don’t care who he’s screwing. I just care about my script. In order to care about it, I need to get into that premiere tonight.”