July 21, 1978 – East Troy, Wisconsin.
The Mustang rolled north through winding country roads,Linda leaned her elbow against the open window, wind catching strands of her hair as she looked out at the endless green.
"You know, when we get back to L.A., you should buy this car."
James glanced at her, "This rental car not a new one ?"
"It's not a rental anymore because it's been part of us, I want you to buy it"
He laughed, "You want me to buy a car for sentimental reasons?"
she looked at him briefly before turning back to the road. "You'll drive it around, and every time you hit a stretch like this, you'll remember this summer."
"You've got a funny way of selling things."
"I'm persuasive and right."
They drove in silence for a while, A highway sign passed, EAST TROY – 8 MILES.
By the time they rolled into town, the sun hung low, They pulled into the first motel they found The Ridge Inn.
Inside, The clerk, a man in his thirties with a name tag Ed greeted them.
"Couple nights?"
"Just one," James said. "Passing through."
"Got it," Ed said, "You folks here for the show?"
Linda tilted her head. "What show?"
"Up at Alpine Music Theatre, Most tourist recently only came here for Fleetwood Mac. They just had a show for three days."
Linda's eyes lit up. "Fleetwood Mac?"
"Not anymore," Ed said, "They swapped schedules last minute. Some comedian instead, You folks into comedy?"
"Depends on the kind." James said.
"You can still grab lawn tickets if you're early."
"Thanks," Linda said.
They left the motel after settling the luggage and stepped back into the fading sunlight.
Linda looked down at her reflection in the car's bumper. "Imagine if it's someone terrible, All this way for a guy telling knock-knock jokes."
"Then we can heckle."
"I'll hold you to that."
They followed the winding road toward the hills, The road bent around a long slope, and then the Alpine Valley Music Theatre appeared below.
They parked among rows of cars and followed the slow line toward the ticket booth.
"If it really is a shit comedian, I swear..."
But she stopped mid-sentence as they reached the window.
TONIGHT ONLY....STEVE MARTIN.....THE WILD AND CRAZY GUY TOUR.
Linda blinked. "Wait… Steve Martin?"
The clerk nodded. "Last show before he heads east. You want lawn seats or up front?"
Linda turned to James, eyes wide. "It's Steve Martin."
He grinned. "Guess we lucked out."
"Two lawn seats," Linda said quickly.
They paid, took their tickets, and followed the flow of people down the hill into the valley.
Linda exhaled softly. "You know," she said, "this might be the perfect ending for our road trip."
James looked at her. "You said that about the tractor pull."
She pinched his waist with a smile,"Did you say something?"
James wincing in pain."Nothing."
A ripple of applause rolled through the amphitheater as the lights dimmed. The announcer's voice echoed
"Ladies and gentlemen… please welcome.....Steve Martin!"
The stage lit up in a wash of white. Steve Martin walked out in his signature white suit, banjo slung over his shoulder, the crowd roaring before he even spoke.
Linda clapped hard, already smiling. "Oh my God, it's really him."
James leaned closer, amused by her excitement. "You sound like you're meeting Elvis."
"Don't ruin this for me," she said, not taking her eyes off the stage.
He waited, smiling, then said into the mic, "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, I'm Steve Martin, and I'll be your comedian for tonight… unless things go really badly, in which case, I'll be your banjo instructor."
Steve started pacing and said, "Those are good seats up there." While gesturing Binoculars with his hands. Then started waving his hands."The Shooow hass Started."
The crowd howled laughter rippling all the way.
"Our ticket's worth $9.75 worth such a big show with all the props." While wearing his iconic arrow through the head prop.
"It's funny to see those amatuer model arrow." While pointing at the arrow on his head.
"This off course is the profession model made in germany for hundred and fifty dollar."
Steve Pacing back and forth and coming to stop giving a middle finger to audience. Walked away and then came back doing the same thing.
"This one's for the photographers."
The show went on for a hour giving laugher to the audience.
Linda turned to James, still catching her breath. "You think he rehearses this?"
James turned shaking his head,"This is natural comedic talent."
Linda smiled, "Do you think… maybe you could get us backstage? Just..." she held up her fingers "...a quick autograph."
He looked at her, "You want me to use my new 'Hollywood power' for this?"
"Yes, This is more important than Hollywood." she said flatly.
Steve had switched to his banjo now, "I'd like to do something serious now," he said softly. "But I won't."
He strummed the final chord, threw his pick into the crowd, and bowed low.
The amphitheater exploded with applause, a sea of people standing, clapping, cheering.
Linda turned to James,"Well?" she said, tugging at his sleeve."Think your director's pass can get us in?"
James looking at the glowing backstage entrance "Only one way to find out."
They made their way down toward the stage. Security was already closing off the aisles, ushering people out. James pulled a small envelope from his jacket, his Fantasy Pictures business card tucked neatly inside.
At the side gate, a guard in a blue jacket stood with his arms crossed."Backstage's for crew only,"
James held up the card. "James Rowan. Director of Friday the 13th. I'm supposed to meet Steve briefly."
The man squinted at the card, then at James, then nodded to another guard near the gate. "Give him five minutes. Don't make it long."
Linda whispered as they passed. "You just lied to a security guard."
James smiled,"Does it matter?"
Behind the stage in the dressing room.
Steve Martin stood a few feet away, white jacket draped over a chair, sipping water from a paper cup.
He looked up as they approached, "Well," he said, "either you're here to sue me or you want a job."
James laughed. "Just an autograph."
Linda spoke up, "I've been a fan for years, Mr. Martin. That was amazing."
Steve looked at her for a moment, "Thank you."
He reached for a pen on the table. "Name?"
"Linda Myers."
"James Rowan," he added.
Steve signed both ticket stubs and handed them back. "You two from around here?"
"California," James said. "We run a small film company there."
"Rowan..."
Friday the 13th, right?"
James blinked. "You've seen it?"
Steve said, smiling. "You made a lot of studio execs nervous, I have not seen it but heard a chatter from my fried David Picker from Paramount."
"You know, I've been toying with something Based on my stage act, Only problem is…"
He gestured vaguely toward his head. "…my mind's a mess of one-liners."
"Comedy?"
Sort of," Steve said, "I've been thinking about how to take what I do on stage and make it live in a story. Not a stand-up film, Something about this guy who's too happy, too clueless, and somehow still wins."
"That's fixable, You've got a tone. If you find the story that fits it, the rest comes naturally." James said.
Steve smiled. "You sound like a director."
"I am one,"
Steve laughed. "Maybe, when we are free to toss ideas around. Worst case, we end up with a movie about a comedian with an arrow through his head."
Linda grinned. "I'd watch that."
Steve pointed at her. "See? That's one ticket sold already."
Steve grabbed a notepad from the table, scribbled down a number, and tore the corner off.
"Here. Call me, when you're free."
James took the slip. "Appreciate it."
They shook hands and stepped back out into the cool night. The amphitheater lights were dimming, the crowd long gone.
Linda leaned against the Mustang, looking up at the stars. "That actually happened, didn't it?"
"Yeah. We just met Steve Martin."
They went back to the motel and in bed embracing each other. Linda drawing circles on his chest said to james.
"So what now, Director?"
James holding her in his arms, kissed her and said.
"Now… we go home."
She nodded slowly, "Back to L.A."
Morning next day, The Mustang eased onto the narrow highway back to L.A.