They all nodded, including Delaney.
“So, that’s my idea. Follow a different charity each week, show what kind of conditions some people are forced to live in, and provide the average urban dweller with a tangible method of helping. I don’t want to manipulate things in any way, just give an authentic view of people’s individual circumstances and hope it’s motivational.”
“That’s a cool idea,” Finch said. “I’d watch that.”
Grant looked over at him. “Would you? Some of the outreach workers I met in the Philippines triggered this idea. I was there right after a hurricane and I was so impressed with the way they pulled together to get things done. I wanted to do a documentary about it but my producers thought it would be depressing. I guess watching Blake try to shake a scorpion out of his sleeping bag is better television than saving a kid’s life.”
He took a swig from his glass and added, “All you see on American television is the same kind of beautiful people doing the same kind of irrelevant shit, over and over. It’s boring. I think people are ready for something with a little more substance.”
Beautiful people? Irrelevant shit. He was describing Pop Rocks again. He just didn’t know it. But his idea for a show was brilliant. And full of heart. When it came right down to it, Grant Connelly was sentimental.
“I love that idea,” she said, locking him in her gaze. She wanted to kiss him right then and there. And she would have too, except Reggie cleared his throat loudly and stood up, breaking the spell.
“I could use another drink, yeah? Finch, get me more whiskey.”
“So, who wants to play strip poker?” Reggie asked after two or three more drinks had gone down the hatch and the night’s conversation had covered everything from trends in music to the best place to get fried calamari, from favorite pagan holidays to where one might find the most radical wave for surfing. It was close to midnight and Grant was feeling the one-two punch of fatigue and booze. He’d stopped drinking after the second glass of whiskey, but since he’d stayed up late last night with his family after Tyler’s wedding and spent much of today chasing down his mother, he was tired. Elaine was leaning against him, still nursing that first drink. Smart woman.
“Anyone, strip poker?” Reggie asked again, grinning at the only woman on the bus.
Elaine shook her head but smiled. “No, thanks. I’d hate to lose the clothes that Humphrey so generously offered me.”
“No one wants to see your hairy ass, Reg,” said Finch, standing up. “And I’m ready for some shut-eye.”
Sammy stood at the same time. “That’s it for me too, folks. I got a long day of driving ahead of me tomorrow.” He moseyed on past the rest of them and went into the spatially challenged bathroom.
Reggie tossed back the rest of his drink. “All right, but, Elaine, consider this an opportunity missed. I play cards lousy and you could’ve had me naked in just a couple of rounds.”
Grant slid his arm around her shoulders again. He knew the kind of guy this Reggie was, casting a wide net with his over-the-top flirtation. Blake was the same sort, just looking for a vulnerable woman to come along and take that bait. The kind of woman swayed by celebrity propaganda and a clever line. Elaine seemed too smart to fall for Reggie’s good ole country boy persona, but then again, chicks always seemed to dig musicians.
Grant stood and pulled her up with him. “Thanks again for housing us tonight, guys. We really appreciate it.”
Reggie slapped him on the back good-naturedly. “No sweat, man. Mi casa es su casa. Or . . . I guess, mi bus-o es su bus-o, yeah? Anyway, you need anything, let me know. We got extra toothbrushes and stuff in the bathroom. Help yourself.”
“Thank you,” Elaine said. “You’ve all been so great.”
“My pleasure, honeybun.”
She turned to walk down the aisle and Reggie caught Grant by the sleeve. “Seriously, anything you need, we got. Ibuprofen, water bottles.” He lowered his voice. “Rubbers, lubricant. It’s all in the drawers in the boogie-woogie room.”
Grant let out a chuff of laughter, even if Reggie was as obnoxious as hell. This bus sure was a one-stop party shop, but he’d had a little too much whiskey and his head was foggy, not that he thought for a minute that Elaine would go for it anyway.