Pan Down

They stepped into the kitchen together. "You know, my Oliver wrote most of our scripts. Oh, I know it wasn't high art, but it always impressed me. I could never write anything."

"Actually," Javier looked thoughtful for a moment, "compared to a lot of these things, the script wasn't that bad." Abby poured two glasses of iced tea while he seemed to consider it seriously. "I mean, the dialogue was natural a least. And you're not a half bad actress, considering." He blushed slightly. "Sorry, Abuela. That was..."

"Rude, boy, rude!" A loud voice laughed behind them both. "No wonder you can't get a date!"

Abby turned to see the large frame of the boy who'd hugged her earlier. He was grinning as he helped himself to a glass of tea.

"Just ignore him, Javier." She gave the small giant a good natured scowl. "I know exactly what you mean." She paused for a moment. "You know, If you're curious, Oliver's old scripts are still in his desk files."

The shy boy perked up. "Yeah? You wouldn't mind?"

"Oh, I've never even looked at all those notes and whatnot! I think Oliver would have liked to have had an assistant. Someone to pass the torch to..." and probably herself as well, "so to speak." She opened the basement door and flicked on the light. "You're welcome to look at whatever you'd like."

"Seriously?" The big one looked just as excited as the Hispanic one did.

"Oh are you a writer too?" She asked.

"Film student." He answered smiling widely. "I got in on a wrestling scholarship but me and Jav are gonna open our own studio after graduation."

Wrestling, she believed. He looked like a good-natured bear. Just a bit like her Oliver. "Well, be my guest."

The wrestler looked at her and then at his friend again. "Go on down, Jav, I'll follow in a sec. I just want to grab a bite." He looked back at Abby.

He looked like he could eat the entire refrigerator but to judge from his eyes, it wasn't food he was after.

"Javier, dear," she said softly, "close the door behind you." She gave him another moment to be sure he was probably down the stairs then turned her attention to the boy still there. "So what do they call you?"

"Hammy." He grinned. "Abraham Hamilton."

"How presidential."

He laughed. "Yeah, that's what my Grandmother said too!" He stopped laughing and glanced at the door to the living room. "So is it my turn yet?"

"I don't know. I don't suppose I have much say in all this."

He frowned. "I'm sorry. If you want us to go..."

He could probably pick the rest of them up with one hand and drop them outside somewhere. But Abby, frankly, wasn't interested in any of them going anywhere.

"Oh no! I don't want you to leave! I just meant that I'm not keeping track of who does what or when." She smiled that smile that Ron once called a long distance blow job.