Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 96284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Sandra’s dad had a golf tournament this weekend, so Kathryn was taking the kids to the zoo along with, I presumed, Sandra and the one brother of hers I got along well with. The other two were…let’s say aloof. They were all about finance and sports and taking selfies on yachts, whereas Todd was a family man and had two of his own.
Sandra emerged from the bedroom just as I ushered the twins into the kitchen, and I watched Adam barrel toward Sandra and latch on to her leg. In response, she smiled awkwardly and gently got herself free.
That never stopped hurting.
“Come here, baby.” I picked him up and blew a raspberry on his belly.
“I’m all packed and good to go,” Sandra said. “Did you heat the pool, Mom?”
I tuned out and focused on wrestling Adam and Callie into their shoes and jackets. Call it a warm-up before I had to catch Ninja and get him into his carrier. That was always an adventure.
“Would you like any more coffee, gentlemen?”
I glanced up from the book and smiled politely. “Thanks, we’re good.” Then I returned my attention to the book and waited till Jake gave me the nod to turn the page.
We should probably pack up soon. We were landing within the hour, and our tray tables were cluttered with printouts, notebooks, my laptop, and his iPad. This book was so damn interesting, though. Despite that the language was really fucking difficult. Written like a journal by an explorer in the early 1800s, it didn’t help much that the book had been translated in the eighties. Several words still flew right by me, though we got the gist—and the gist was enough to make the text riveting. Jake and I sat shoulder to shoulder and knew we had our next major project.
He grabbed one of the markers on my table and highlighted “Ilunga Tshibinda” on the page, and then he opened his iPad to scribble notes. I’d charged the pen yesterday, so it should be good.
Jake drew inspiration from working titles, so I side-eyed him jot down a list of possible angles. Congolese Unrest, five hundred years of unrest, Unease in the Congo Basin, from kingdoms to colonies, 500 Years of Unrest in the Congo Basin…
“Unrest is a fitting word,” I murmured.
He grew pensive and tapped the pencil against his chin. “This could be huge, Roe.”
The destination itself meant it had to be. You didn’t just fly to the Congo and film over a weekend.
One of our friends had given me the book. He’d wanted to shoot in the Congo but lacked funding and time. He’d urged us to look into the tribe he’d read about in old journals—rumor had it they were still around, caught in the middle of guerrilla wars and corrupt politicians.
We could totally unite Jake’s desire to shoot in the rainforest and my passion for people’s stories. Like he’d said, this could be huge. We were talking a year or eighteen months of preproduction, minimum, then several film crews going over there for a month or two each, covering countless corners of their vast culture, nature, and history.
We’d need further funding too, which meant going to a network with the idea.
“We’ll sit down with Ortiz after the holidays,” I suggested.
“Perfect.” Jake straightened in his seat and stretched a little. “Speaking of, your wish list has very few survival gear items. Do you want to freeze to death in Alaska?”
I grinned slyly and closed the book. “Who says I need anything else? I have everything on the list you sent me.”
He raised his brows. “All of it?”
“Every item.” I’d needed the distraction to stay sane in my family drama, so I’d reserved an hour or two every day to train and learn. I’d read dozens of books, I’d talked to wildlife experts, I’d gone to the gym more than I’d let on, and I had shopped for survival gear online—gear I actually knew how to use too.
He huffed and eyed me a little skeptically. A more pressing matter took precedence, though, and he excused himself to go take a leak.
I took the opportunity to stow away our stuff into our backpacks.
To be fair, part of the challenge was heading to Alaska with less gear than recommended, but it was an impressive list, nonetheless. The working title of the show was One Backpack to Survive: Alaska. Because we hoped this was just the first part of an expanding series. The first destination.
The money was good. There were upsides to major networks, and the era of streaming was here for real. Not just for viewers and bigger studios but independent filmmakers and minor production companies. Netflix was expanding like crazy, and Jake and I had a good reputation. We were a safe bet with a large preexisting following.
It could be the beginning of a beautiful relationship.