Over the course of the summer, I’ve been running a feature
on the blog, where characters from other authors have stopped by for a
visit. This has been a very popular
experiment. It’s my intention to continue it, mixing in some of my own players
along the way.
Recently my old buddy Donald Levin had a post on Facebook,
asking which Hollywood actor would be best to play his Martin Preuss character
if it ever became a movie. There were a
number of entries, some of which I must admit to having no idea who they were.
It’s not uncommon to picture a professional actor in the
roles as I’m reading and writing stories. But that got me wondering, who would
star in my novels. So this week, I'm casting the actors to star in the Jamie Richmond series.
Hilarie Burton, who I first discovered as a recurring
character in the series “White Collar” would be a perfect Jamie Richmond.
Diane
Lane could easily be her mother, Vera.
Olivia Wilde could star as Linda Davis, her best friend.
Will
Patton as Jamie’s step-father Bert.
Colin Ferguson would be a good pick for
Malone.
There are many other players in each series. But you get the idea. I’m open to suggestions
if you want to send them along. Next week, I'll share my choices for the Jefferson Chene series.
Casting my characters got me thinking about Linda Davis, who
as Jamie’s best friend is first introduced in “Vanishing Act”. Here’s the scene when she makes her first
appearance.
It was the day after Christmas when my cell
phone rang. I flipped it open without even a glimpse at the screen. “No
refunds, no exchanges,” I said.
“Jay Kay, where the hell are you?” a sultry
voice demanded.
“Linda!”
“I’m standing here in your apartment
building, freezing my cute little ass off. And your door is locked. You never
ever lock your door.”
“When did you get back in town?”
“Two hours ago. Logan and I couldn’t wait to
see you. So where are you?”
I gave her directions to the new place.
Linda was on her way.
Someone far smarter than me once told me
that if we’re lucky, we’ll get to have one true friend who will always be with
us, no matter what’s going on in our lives. They may not be in attendance each
day, and there may be months when you don’t speak or get to see them face to
face, but deep down you know they will always be there for you. And you’ll be
there for them. Turns out, I found my true friend when I was six years old.
Linda and I met in the first grade and we
became inseparable. A teacher once remarked that we were ‘twin daughters of
different mothers’. I honestly had no idea what she meant. It was years before
I took it as a compliment. Linda and I bonded. We cried on each other’s
shoulders. We flirted with the same boys, all through elementary school, high
school, and college. I was her maid of honor when she tied the knot, and the
first person she called when she was getting divorced. We never bothered with
pinkie swearing, a blood oath, or the spit-in-your-palm-before-the-handshake
routine. We didn’t need it. We just knew.
As I ran from room to room doing a quick
clean up from the sexual romps Malone and I had enjoyed before he went to work
his shift at the State Police post, I realized Linda and I had a lot of
catching up to do. On my way past the bathroom, I grabbed a damp bath towel.
In early October, Linda had taken a leave of
absence from her job as a history teacher at the high school in Northville. Her
mother, Gracie, had fallen and broken her hip. Years ago, Gracie moved to
Raleigh, North Carolina to get away from the Michigan winters. Gracie had no
desire to live in Florida, an area she considered nothing more than ‘God’s
waiting room’, but she liked the warmer climate of Raleigh just fine. Knowing
that her mother would need assistance following her surgery, Linda hadn’t
blinked twice about taking the time off to be with her. The school agreed to
her absence. She was due back at the blackboards with the first classes in
January.
I heard the thump of a car door and a great
deal of noise. Opening the front door, I was nearly bowled over by Logan. His
enthusiastic greetings can be overwhelming. Kneeling in the doorway, I wrapped
my arms around him as he covered my face with wet, sloppy kisses.
“Logan, baby, I’ve missed you.”
He
didn’t verbalize a response, but I could tell he was happy to see me. Logan’s a
golden retriever, the most well-behaved
dog I’ve ever known. I rubbed his coat with the towel, and then wiped his paws
so he wouldn’t track snow or mud through the house. Once I released him, he
scurried off to investigate.
“Jay Kay, you look fantastic,” Linda said as
she swept me into her arms.
We hugged for several minutes without saying
another word. Good friends can do that. At length, we went into the kitchen to
make some tea. There was so much to talk about I didn’t know where to start.
On Christmas Eve, while Malone was at work,
I had dismantled my cherry kitchen table and brought it from the apartment in
stages. There was no way I wanted to have our first, true meal, Christmas dinner
to boot, while sitting at a card table and folding chairs. Linda got cozy,
shedding her scarf and winter coat, while I got the kettle boiling.
I took a good look at her. As happens every
so often, a flare of jealousy flittered across my mind. I couldn’t help it. She
was so damn gorgeous.
Linda is about five feet, five inches tall, which
is two inches shorter than me. But there’s no mistaking the physical
differences between us. Where I have a narrow body and very meager curves,
Linda is blessed with both va-va and voom. She’s slender and curvaceous, a
result of great genes, which makes her hourglass figure that much more
incredible. Topping it off is a thick mane of curly, dark brown hair that rolls
about her shoulders every time she turns her head. When the humidity is up, the
curls just intensify.
If she wasn’t my best friend, I’d probably
hate her strictly on principle.
But it’s Linda’s face that can stop traffic,
or halt conversations mid-word. Her features are the envy of fashion models. A
narrow, aquiline nose, sparkling, baby blue eyes, and a Cupid’s bow mouth
complete the package. There is nearly always a hint of mischief on her face, as
if she’s in on a secret that if you’re really lucky, she’ll share with you. And
her eyes can look right through you and touch your soul.
Music this week comes from a Van Morrison classic.
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