Ever since we got
Coming Attractions up on the website (
www.markrhunter.com), I've been meaning to share the entire first chapter, which introduces both main
characters and, I think, gives a taste of what's to come. You can also
see chapter one on various booksellers' websites, but I
thought it was worthwhile to have it right here, where people can check
it out if they choose. This is exactly as it appears in print, including the opening materials.
After this I plan to go back to a semi-regular post about writing, such as creating characters, inspiration, setting, and such, starting with how they relate to the creation of
Coming Attractions itself. Hey, I was bored. (Kidding! I've got a lot of issues, but boredom is
not one of them.)
Remember, whenever you don't read a first chapter, the second chapter doesn't get its pages. (I think that's the line from
It's a Wonderful Life. Something like that.)
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Coming Attractions
Mark R. Hunter
Other titles by Mark R. Hunter
Non-fiction:
Images of America: Albion and Noble County
Smoky Days and Sleepless Nights: A Century or So With the
Albion Fire Department
Slightly Off the Mark
Hoosier Hysterical: How the West Became the Midwest
Without Moving At All
Fiction:
Storm Chaser
Storm Chaser Shorts
The Notorious Ian Grant
The No-Campfire Girls
Radio Red
Copyright © 2018 Mark R. Hunter
All rights reserved.
Edited by Emily Hunter
Cover by Emily Hunter
This book is a work of fiction. Any names, characters,
places, and events in this book are either are products of the author’s
imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons,
living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely
coincidental. No popcorn was harmed in the making of this novel.
For book extras and additional books by the author,
please visit: www.MarkRHunter.com
In loving memory of
Linda Taylor
Jean Coonts Stroud
Special
thanks to the Auburn-Garrett Drive-In;
The
drive-in movie theaters still upholding the tradition;
And
all the drive-ins of our youth: especially, for me, the High-Vue of
Kendallville, Indiana
Coming
Attractions
Mark R. Hunter
CHAPTER ONE
Maddie
saw trouble ahead as soon as she stepped off the company airplane.
The
kid standing in the terminal held a slab of cardboard before him like a shield,
with her name plastered in red across its surface. Maybe he was attempting to
hide the fact that, beneath the wrinkled black suit coat, he wore a white
T-shirt that should have been washed at least two meals ago. More likely he feared
missing her, since a quick study of the shaggy haired young man told her he
held little stock in appearances.
"Madison
McKinley?" He gave her an equally appraising scan.
Stopping
before him, she deliberately looked right and left. The closest other people
stood at least two hundred feet away, gathered around the airport's gift shop.
"Maddie."
Taking
that as encouragement, he smiled. "Tupper. Welcome to Fort Wayne!" He
still held the sign up.
"Tupper?"
"That's
my name—well, my middle name, and that's what I go by. My mother sold
Tupperware, and she's pretty hardcore. I don’t know if they still hold
Tupperware parties, but if you want her to set one up—"
"I
doubt I'll be here that long." Maddie tried not to judge people by
appearances, but Tupper looked for all the world like Shaggy from the Scooby
Doo cartoon series—without the goatee. Under other circumstances she might have
been tempted to smile. "Tupper, were you expecting a company plane?"
"Oh,
sure. I've been with the company over a week now."
"And
did anyone get off the plane besides me?"
His
brow knitted in concentration. "Nope."
"Then
do you really believe the sign is necessary?"
Face
reddening, Tupper dropped the cardboard. "Sorry."
“Trash
can, Tupper—let's keep our planet clean." She blushed a little, herself—it
wasn’t fair to take her mood out on him.
When
Tupper turned to throw the sign away, Maddie realized he wore a fairly nice
pair of navy slacks—and white sneakers. "Are you, by chance, related to
one of the partners?"
"I'm
Mr. Quincy's great-nephew—how did you know?"
"Family
resemblance." Maddie despised lying, but saw no reason to hurt someone's
feelings. Nepotism could be a powerful force—why else would this kid be hired
by the stuffiest law firm in Boston? "You were to bring a car?"
"This
way." Tupper turned, paused, then whirled around. "Did you have
luggage?"
"I'm
a woman, Tupper." This time she did smile.
He
frowned.
"That
means yes. Two bags."
After
retrieving her luggage, Tupper led the way into the warmth of a sunny June
midafternoon. "You'll love Fort Wayne. They have an orchestra, a zoo, a
mall, three rivers ..." He trailed off, thinking.
"It
seemed a bit small from the air." The
poor guy might hurt himself if his brain doesn’t cool down.
"Well,
it's the second largest city in Indiana."
As
they walked across the crowded parking lot a breeze swirled the folds of
Maddie's skirt and blew blonde strands of hair across her face. "Large by
Indiana standards? Not a telling argument."
"But
you come from Boston. Indiana's a lot bigger than Massachusetts."
"In
square miles, maybe," Maddie murmured under her breath. She almost ran
into Tupper when he skidded to a halt. "Where's the car?"
"Right here." He pointed to a deep
purple Chrysler van.
She
stared, trying to fend off a wave of nostalgia for her Porsche. "I asked
for a sedan."
"Yeah,
you traded up—isn't that great?" He produced a key ring from his pocket
and pushed the unlock button. "It's got a digital audio system, sliding
doors on both sides, an environmental readout, and you gotta love the color.
It's a real love machine."
Such
a statement could only come from a member of the Scooby Gang. Maddie stared at
him, hands on hips, but held her temper—after all, her temper got her here to
begin with. "I realize you've been by yourself here, but since you arrived
with just two jobs—to get me a hotel room and a car—could it be that
difficult?"
"I
didn't actually arrive—I grew up west of here, in New Haven." He noticed
her expression, and stumbled backward. "Um, there's a car show at the
Memorial Coliseum—by the way, we have a Memorial Coliseum—and Jay Leno's going
to be there and all the rental cars were taken and this is the only—"
"Tupper,
Calm down." Maddie took him by the shoulder, which made the younger man
flinch. "Maybe this is for the best. Don't people going to drive-in movies
often take vans?"
He
blinked at her. "Yeah, sure. I like to back my truck in, when I'm not
working. Why?"
Oh,
dear—He didn't know why she'd been sent. "Because I've never visited one,
and I might have some free time while I'm here."
Tupper
brightened instantly. "The best one in Indiana is about an hour north of
Fort Wayne—you'll love it."
She
very much doubted that. "Tupper,
do you know why I'm here?"
"Um—"
He paused, trying to focus. "To expand the agency's influence into
business dealings in the Midwest."
"Which
means?"
"Got
me." He shrugged. "This is my first assignment since I visited Uncle
Quincy, but he said it was real important, so I figure I'm on the fast track."
Uncle
Quincy? What an image—like Luciano Pavarotti breakdancing. "You are,
indeed." Maddie decided she liked the kid, after all. She couldn't help
thinking of him as a kid, although he couldn't be more than five years younger
than her, and he seemed sincere in his desire to help. Besides, in his own way
he was exiled here, just like her. "Do you have transportation?"
“My
truck—oh, you mean here?” He gestured to a yellow Volkswagen Beetle parked
beside the van. Inside, a girl with spiked green hair waved, then went back to
studying her eyebrow ring in the rear view mirror. How entirely appropriate.
"Tupper,
you've obviously been working hard. Why don't you take a day or two off? Visit
with your family, take a short break, and contact me at the hotel later."
"Really?
Wow, thanks! I needed to take off for my part time job soon, anyway." He
started to hop into the Beetle, but paused when she called his name.
"It
might be helpful to have the information packet your great-uncle promised me.
Not to mention the van keys."
"Oh!"
Tupper handed her the keys and gestured toward the van. "There's a folder
on the passenger seat with maps, directions, your reservation, and a really big
book about John Adams. He's my ancestor, you know. I think he was governor, or something."
"Possibly
the genes have thinned out since then." Ignoring his puzzled expression,
she climbed into the van.
"Well,
if you like to go to the drive-in you'll probably see me there. Take it
easy!" The Bug roared away.
After
a moment Maddie got back out, opened the rear door, and threw in the luggage
Tupper had abandoned on the pavement. Sincere he may be, competent he may not.
Maddie
spent some time reading the directions and comparing them to the maps. Smiling
despite herself, she also leafed through the biography of John Adams. Inside
the front cover she found a short inscription: "John Adams called himself
obnoxious and unpopular—but he got the job done. Quincy."
Adam
Quincy had been named for the second President, and according to rumor was a
distant relative. Maddie considered John Adams a role model for his courage and
perseverance, but that, and their occupation, was all she and Quincy had in
common. Leave it to the law firm's founder to turn a gift into a subtle
reminder of who was in charge.
She
spotted some brochures in the folder. Tupper apparently thought her job
involved sightseeing: He’d enclosed something about every tourist destination
in northeast Indiana, from zoos and state parks to an Old Jail Museum. And a
drive-in movie theater.
The
colorful advertisement declared this to be the 50th anniversary of the High
View Drive-In. Two features for the whole family every night, all summer long,
plus weekend showings in the spring and fall. Photos showed happy families who
munched on popcorn and other snacks while watching the latest flick from the
comfort of their automobiles.
Maddie
studied every detail, every letter, and then determined the hotel would not,
after all, be her next destination. It was getting close to dusk. She had a
van, and other than being a bit overdressed for the movies she should go
unnoticed.
Yes,
a visit to the drive-in was clearly in order. After all, she well remembered
one of the first rules from law school: Know your enemy.
Despite
her black mood on the airplane, the weather and the masses of greenery Maddie
passed during her drive north cheered her a bit. She’d believed as a child that
a field was a dirt lot for baseball, and the biggest patch of plant life no
more than a Boston city park. Her preteen mind couldn’t have imagined these
expanses of woods, or unlimited stretches of young corn and wheat.
It
was cool enough to shut down the air conditioner and crack the windows, an act
that would horrify her hairstylist. Considering the obscene amounts of money
she paid the man, by now he should have come up with a wave that would last
through a tornado.
She
missed him. She missed her Porsche mechanic, her personal assistant, the
doorman, and all the partners with their custom tailored suits, ten dollar
cigars, and condescending attitudes. No matter how important this assignment,
everyone knew it was punishment. She must prove herself all over again if she
ever expected a corner office and her pick of cases.
A
few miles after turning onto a two lane highway she spotted the sign, a gaudy
red and yellow monstrosity guaranteed to attract attention. The top formed an
arrow pointing toward the metal framework of the movie screen, and below the
arrow stood a sign advertising a Pixar animated movie and a teen comedy.
To
Maddie's surprise half a dozen cars already lined the drive. A van similar to
hers waited first behind the closed gate to the ticket booth, with the adult
occupants of the other vehicles gathered around it. They looked like they were
having a conference, or maybe a tailgate party. A dozen young people, from
teens to toddlers, played in a grassy area between the drive and a red fence
that surrounded the property.
Maddie
stopped behind the last vehicle, wincing at the crunch of gravel beneath her
wheels. Clearly, Indiana needed to invest in more asphalt. After the dust
cleared, she opened her windows all the way to admit the scent of freshly mowed
grass and a far off barbecue, then shut off the engine. Country music played
from the pickup in front of her, but it was the sound of kids screaming that
made her stiffen.
She
scanned around the lawn until certain they were screams of glee, not pain. Why
didn’t these parents pay closer attention to their children? Wouldn't it be
safer to keep them in their cars, instead of wandering around where they could
get hit, or fall, or be bitten by snakes or rabid bunnies or something? Not to
mention all the strangers.
Well,
she must be the only stranger here, considering everyone else still gathered
around the one vehicle. The scene would make someone nostalgic, if that someone
held memories of going to the movies. Maddie remembered only a few trips to a
more traditional theater.
She’d
been led to believe little local support remained for the drive-in, making a
buyout easy. Except for one lonely old house along the drive-in property, the
surrounding land consisted of farm fields and small tracts of woods, most
optioned by the development company her firm represented.
The
drive-in's owner remained the holdout, and by bad luck his property made up the
bull’s-eye in the tract of land the developer needed. The better his business,
the harder her job—and here people already waited, on a weeknight, no less.
Perhaps
this made up the hardcore locals with nothing better to do. You couldn't make
profit margin with six customers a day.
That
optimistic thought faded when an old station wagon pulled up behind her van,
pumping rock and roll into the air, as a full house gyrated inside.
With
a sigh, Maddie examined the customers. Their dress consisted of shorts or blue
jeans, and tank tops or printed tees. She glanced down at her silk print dress,
and determined not to leave the van under any circumstances. The average person
might not know the difference between her expensive outfit and something from
an outlet store, but she would still stand out.
Soon
adults began to saunter back toward their own vehicles, while the kids ran,
jumping and shouting, to join them. She held her breath until she was sure none
of the children would trip or get hit by a car door, then turned to see a woman
move the gate aside and climb into the ticket booth. Maddie switched the engine
on and wondered if kid movies had changed much since "The Little
Mermaid".
Soon
Maddie caught sight of the ticket price, painted on the whitewashed side of the
ticket booth, and took a sharp breath. It was a third of what she’d expect to
pay in downtown Boston. How in the world could this man stay in business, with
prices so low? The popcorn must be a dollar a kernel.
The
ticket taker held an animated conversation with everyone in line, but managed
to keep customers moving until Maddie stopped before her. Then the woman, who
wore a white T-shirt proclaiming "The High View—50 years and counting,”
did a double take and leaned in for a closer look.
"You're
a little overdressed for the movies, ain't ya, hon?"
"The
philharmonic was sold out." Maddie gritted her teeth, although she’d
expected this reaction.
Now
the woman leaned closer, to take in the clean, empty interior of the van.
"Just you?"
"Is
that all right?"
The
woman arched an eyebrow. "Okay by me, just kinda unusual. Why go see a
movie by yourself?"
"My
boyfriend plays in the philharmonic."
"Well
..." With a shake of her head, the woman handed Maddie a ticket stub, then
rattled off an FM radio frequency. "Enjoy the show. Oh! I almost
forgot." She gave Maddie a bumper sticker.
Beneath
a red, white and blue drawing of the movie screen, colorful letters spelled
out: "Save the High View! Half a Century and Counting."
The
woman leaned forward and hissed, "Some big company out east wants to turn
it into an airport!"
"Oh,
my."
"Don't
worry, we'll fight 'em and win. You have a good time now, hon."
"Thank
you," Maddie answered automatically. As she drove through the lot, she saw
similar stickers on all the parked vehicles. The other van, she noted, differed
from hers in only two ways: It was black instead of deep purple, and sported
stickers on the back and side windows. As she passed it she saw a pair of
bright hazel eyes regard her curiously through the rear view mirror, and
wondered whether it was because of the twin transportation, or because she
drove the only auto in the lot without a show of support pasted on every
surface.
Where to park? In the middle of the lot sat a low
concrete block structure painted white, with two doors on each side: one for a
restroom and another for an entrance to the snack area. Maddie had no intention
of abandoning her nutrition plan. Still, she could imagine a need for the
restroom if, for some reason, she decided to stay through both movies.
Of
course she would stay. She needed to know as much as possible about this
business, in order to get it shut down. The best place for her would be at the
corner closest to the women's restroom, but, ironically, the other purple van
had already staked it out. Maddie settled for a spot at the other front corner.
All
the old concrete speaker posts stood empty. Didn’t the ticket taker say
something about a radio frequency? Dialing it in produced a crooning Norah
Jones, but Maddie assumed she had the right place, left it on, and began
watching the incoming traffic.
She
made some quick calculations, based on the ticket price, the average number of
people per car, and the cost of electricity, payroll, and other overhead. She
factored in snacks, then cut food profit in half when she noticed many of the
moviegoers brought their own. Despite that, by the time the sun disappeared
behind a low, distant cloud bank, the place had already broken even. When the
first preview for upcoming movies appeared, it was turning a profit.
On
a weeknight. Not good at all.
Maddie
sat back, paying little attention to the ads. She leaned forward again when a
group of teens walked by, loaded down with nachos, popcorn, and soda. Her
stomach began a low, rumbling litany of complaints. When did she last eat? Not
dinner. Not lunch, come to think of it, except for a bag of peanuts on the
plane.
So
much for staying in the car. So much for her diet, unless the snack bar
featured something no one she saw had purchased. But it was now too dark for
anyone to notice her style of dress, and this could be the perfect opportunity
to investigate the operation further. After all, she was here on a job, and if
she wanted to erase her black marks with the company she needed to perform it
well.
That
determination lasted until she reached the door to the snack bar, and realized
her miscalculation. Of course it was too dark to see her dress, and the
expensive style of her blonde tresses, and the opal necklace and charm
bracelet—outside. Inside, fluorescent light made it bright as day.
But
with the movie starting, nobody stood before the long counter with its popcorn
machine, soda fountain, and snack rack. At least, nobody until she came in one
way while, at the same moment, a man burst through the opposite door.
They
both froze, regarding each other. She recognized the twinkling hazel eyes and
the sandy, disheveled hair at once, although he looked taller when out from
behind the wheel. He wore jeans and a white T-shirt with the all too familiar
drive-in logo on it, along with the words "Drive-Ins are for Cars, not
Planes". Admirably muscled arms clutched an empty popcorn bucket.
The
man smiled, flashing teeth so perfect it brought back memories of the thousands
of dollars Maddie sunk into her orthodonture, and walked toward her. Of their
own volition Maddie's legs also moved, until they met in front of the cash
register.
"Are
you lost?" His baritone voice sent a jolt up her spine, and suddenly exile
in Indiana didn't seem so bad.
"I'm
... um ..." She glanced around to remind herself where she was. "I’m
looking for healthy food."
"You
are lost." He smiled again.
"I meant you don't look like the drive-in type."
If
you're the drive-in type, Maddie thought, get me a season ticket. "It was
spur of the moment." True enough.
"I've
been there." He held a hand out. "Logan. Logan Chandler."
She
felt her hand enveloped in his warmth. His touch, firm but gentle, made her
catch her breath. She tried to stutter out her name, and found she couldn't
remember.
"Maddie!"
someone else called.
The
idea of anyone in Indiana knowing her came as such a shock that Maddie pulled
her hand away and turned, almost backing into the wall. Behind the counter,
swathed in an apron that didn't completely cover the drive-in emblem on his
white T-shirt, a wild haired young man grinned at her.
"Tupper?"
"I
told you we'd meet again if you came to the drive-in. This is my part time
job."
Uh
oh. Maddie glanced at Logan, who turned from her to Tupper with a raised
eyebrow. While Tupper didn't know everything about her mission, it would be
easy to put two and two together.
"I
guess I assumed you’re not from around here at all," Logan said, eyeing
her dress.
"Tupper
and I just met today." Good, the truth. But Maddie couldn't grasp where to
go from there. "It's a long story, and the movie's started."
"But
you know each other?"
"Absolutely."
Again, true enough.
Tupper
pitched in, "We're like old friends, dude."
"Okay."
Smiling again, Logan grandly gestured Maddie forward. "I just need to
replace some spilled popcorn. After you."
What?
Oh. She turned to Tupper, determined to get out of there before he gave her
away. Logan might be a lost Greek god, but she couldn't afford to get involved
with him, especially after the last fiasco in her love life.
"Perrier?"
"Huh?"
Tupper stared at her, open mouthed. "I don't know Spanish."
Behind
her, Logan chuckled, making her even more aware of his presence.
"Do
you serve any bottled water?" In truth, Maddie craved some decent coffee,
but she had a feeling her definition of “decent” wouldn’t fit here.
"Oh!"
Tupper grabbed a bottle of water with a brand name she didn't recognize.
"This is local. It comes out of a spring well right by a church."
"And
a cemetery," Logan offered. She looked back to find him grinning wickedly.
"Imagine that."
She
did, but took the bottle anyway. "Is there anything to eat that doesn't
involve large amounts of sugar or carbohydrates?"
"Uh—"
Tupper glanced around wildly. "No."
"Get
her some of the world famous popcorn, Tupper," Logan said. "On
me."
"Popcorn
on you." For some reason Tupper found that amusing, and chuckled as he scooped
the white kernels up.
“No
salt or butter, please." Maddie felt a touch on her arm, and turned to see
Logan smiling yet again.
"No
salt or butter? That's cardboard."
Could
she make herself look any more out of place? "I'm twenty-nine years old.”
When he gave her a questioning look, she added, “I can’t eat whatever I want,
not anymore." As if she ever could.
He
raked his gaze over Maddie, making her gulp and shiver. "You don't have an
ounce of fat on you."
That
was a compliment, she assumed. Maddie didn’t have an ounce of fat, not even on
her chest—or at least, that had been her ex-fiancé’s biting comment. "I
plan to keep it that way. How do you—" Now it was her turn to look him
over, from broad chest to white Reeboks, and she gulped again. "—um, stay
in such good shape?"
"Hey,
I don't eat this way all the time—it's a treat. If you don't treat yourself,
how do you know what you're missing?"
"A
look at the nutrition label tells me what I'm missing." Desperate to get
away—she was much too attracted to this man, no doubt a rebound effect—she
grabbed a bag of chocolate covered peanuts from the rack and slapped it down
next to the water. "There. Four hundred calories."
"I'm
humbled," Logan told her. "You might try sprinkling them on the
popcorn."
"Thank
you." She shoved a fifty into Tupper's hands and told him to keep the
change, which made his eyes pop. "I'll remember you on my next trip to the
scales."
"Wait—"
Logan held his hand out, but became distracted when Tupper called his name.
"Say,
that's a great idea. Chocolate covered popcorn, M&M popcorn, popcorn with
nougats—it could be the next taste sensation."
Logan
held out his empty popcorn tub. "Remember that one time when I told you to
use your imagination? I take it back."
Maddie
took the opportunity to sneak out the door, and hurried into the blackness
before Logan could catch her. If he said anything remotely connected to getting
to know her better, she would melt like the hot butter he kept talking about,
and the whole nightmare of dating someone connected to her work would start all
over again.
Shivering,
she dropped the water and candy into her purse. Balancing the popcorn in one
hand, she pulled open the van's door. What a relief to be away from that
man—she'd never been so instantly affected by the opposite sex before, not even
her ex-fiancé. With considerable relief, she sank into the driver's seat.
Or,
more accurately, she sank onto the small body that occupied the driver's seat.
Two
high voices shrieked. Maddie also gave a yell and leaped out, ready to run as
her imagination conjured Munchkin muggers. But her purse caught on the empty
speaker post, and she managed only to spin around.
In
the hazy darkness, broken by the flickering reflection from the big screen,
Maddie made out two small, round sets of eyes peering at her from inside the
van. In the instant that followed, she realized this was not her van and that
somehow, miraculously, she still held the popcorn without a single kernel
spilled.
