Night Of The Blackbird Read Free Page A

small production company going; he had also worked in construction and dug ditches. They had both been willing to give a hundred percent.
    â€œYou don’t want me just to come to your office?” Josh asked.
    â€œNo. I want to take you to a nice restaurant, buy you a few glasses of good wine….”
    His groan interrupted her. “You want to change the schedule.”
    â€œI—”
    â€œMake it a sports bar, and buy me a beer.”
    â€œWhere?”
    He named his favorite little hole-in-the-wall, just a few blocks from their offices in the Village. He had an interview with a potential new cameraman, she was supposed to have coffee with a potential guest, but they decided to meet right after their appointments.
    As it happened, their potential guest missed her connection and called in to find out if Moira would be available in the afternoon. Relieved, Moira cheerfully agreed.
    She went out walking. And walked and walked until it was nearly time to meet Josh.
    Moira reached Sam’s Sports Spectacular—a true hole-in-the-wall but a great neighborhood place—before her partner. She seldom drank anything at all during the day and was cautious even at night, but this afternoon, she ordered a draft. She was nursing it at the farthest table from the bar when Josh came in. He was a handsome, appealing guy in a tall, lanky, artistic way. He looked like a director or, she mused with a flash of humor, a refugee from some grunge band. His eyes were dark and beautiful, his hair reddish brown and very curly, and despite his wife’s objection, he wore a full beard and mustache.
    â€œWhere’s my beer?” he asked, sliding into a chair by the table.
    â€œI wasn’t sure what you wanted.”
    He stared at her as if she had lost her mind. “How many years have you known me?”
    â€œAlmost ten. Since we were eighteen. But—”
    â€œWhat do I always drink?”
    â€œMiller Lite. But—”
    â€œThere you have it.”
    â€œI’m a bit off today.”
    â€œYou are a bit off.” He raised his hand, and their waiter saw him. He gave his order, and the young man nodded in acknowledgment and started for the bar.
    â€œWhy are you off today?” Josh asked, leaning forward.
    â€œMy mother called.”
    He grimaced. “My mother calls almost every day. That’s no excuse.”
    â€œYou don’t know my mother.”
    â€œI do.” He grinned and feigned a slight accent. “She’s a lovely lady, she is.”
    â€œUm. My dad’s ill.”
    â€œOh.” Josh was quickly serious. “I’m sorry.”
    â€œI—” She hesitated. That wasn’t really it. “I think he’s going to be okay, although it appears he may need another surgery.”
    â€œSo you want to go home for Saint Patrick’s day.”
    â€œI know we were supposed to be shooting at the theme parks in central Florida, and I know how hard you worked to straighten out all the paperwork and rights and—”
    â€œThings have been postponed before.”
    â€œI truly appreciate your attitude,” she told him softly, swallowing her draft, her eyes lowered.
    â€œI never believed we’d be going to Florida in March.”
    She looked at him and flushed. “You think I have no spine?”
    â€œI think your mother could take on the Terminator.”
    She flashed him a grateful smile. “I do have another idea. We can do a real ethnic Irish show and arrange with the Leisure Channel to do a live feed. It really might be a great idea. I think the viewers would love it.”
    Josh mused over the idea. He lifted his hands. “You could be right. ‘Fun, food, and fantasy—live from the home of the hostess herself.”’
    â€œHow do you feel about Boston in March?”
    â€œWretched, but then, it’s not much worse than New York.” He smiled at her suddenly. “Actually, I thought