The Decker Diaries 2026

“Meet me at Luna in twenty minutes,” the voice commanded. It was sharp, regal, and vibrating somewhere behind my left ear. 


“Amy,” I said to the empty passenger seat. “You’re my limbic system. You're literally housed inside my head, so you're with me wherever I go. And I’m concentrating on driving, so keep quiet.”



“Don’t get technical with me, Genome. It’s gauche. Get me to the Circular Journey Cafe now if you want the R J Decker updates. And try to act like a professional. The radio is so loud it's frightening the local seagulls.”


I was tracking set locations for R J Decker, the new ABC TV series based on Carl Hiaasen’s novel, 'Double Whammy.' It has turned Wilmington into a sprawling, 1980s version of South Florida. Amy’s updates are usually spot on, so I sighed, pulled an NCDOT‑defying U-turn, and headed for the cafe.


The Cafe Standoff

Minutes later, disappointed and a little defeated, I parked, went into the cafe, and sat by the window. A flyer on the glass offered a reward for a lost ferret named Reginald. I remember hoping he’d find his way back home soon.


“I’ve failed again, Amy,” I admitted. “I’ve been up and down Princess Place Drive. I loitered by the Alton Lennon Federal Building until a security guard shooed me away. Nothing like a film set anywhere, and no sign of Scott Speedman wandering the Riverwalk.”


“That’s because you’re not a pro like me,” Amy sniffed. I could sense her straightening an imaginary tiara as she spoke. While you were riding aimlessly around town, I was tracking filming permits.”


The barista appeared and set a latte on the table. 


“This must be someone else’s order,” I said to her. 


“Pistachio latte with an extra shot,” she said. “It’s yours; I made it when I saw you park.” 


She shook her head and waved her hands when I reached for my card. “No charge,” she said. “It’s on the house because you found Reginald.” 


“Reginald?” I asked, genuinely confused. 


“The ferret,” she said, pointing to the one sitting on his haunches, watching me with the brightest eyes I’d ever seen. “The poster on the door is a little joke we use to give regular customers a free drink.”


“Have you even checked TW Cast & Recruit?” Amy asked when Lilly walked back to her ‘order here’ post at the counter. 


“I checked them at 4:00 yesterday afternoon.” 


“Amateur!” Amy shrieked, causing me to jump and splash espresso on my notes. “The call times drop between 6:00 and 8:00 PM! That’s when the secrets are revealed.” 


“You have to be vigilant, Genome,” Amy continued. “Hover like a hawk. Or in your case, hover like a very determined mosquito.” 


The Cinespace Illusion

Fired up by Amy’s insults, I drove into the West End looking for Cinespace Studios. The movie, 'For Your Consideration', was playing in my mind as I drove, specifically the scene where a studio guard insists he recognizes Catherine O’Hara from another movie. 


“That wasn’t me,” O’Hara says to him. 


“Yes, it was,” he insists. “You played an actress named Marilyn Hack. You were nominated for a SAG award.” 


It’s a perfect moment of Hollywood absurdity, and I found myself hoping for similar recognition from the gate guard at Cinespace. 


“This is it!” I whispered, seeing the guard gate in front of me. “The high-stakes world of Florida crime. I bet Decker is right around that corner, wearing a linen suit and brooding over a murder.” 


“I don’t see any palm trees, Genome,” Amy noted dryly. “Or ’80s cars."


The “Pretty Ugly” Incident

I ignored her and began to hover. I leaned against a brick wall, wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap with King Ranch embroidered on it. I was going for the Ron Howard look. 


Instead of a movie star, a woman with a handheld camera and a very determined ponytail stepped into the street. She was directing two actors who looked disarmingly contemporary. Just raw, Wilmington-grit drama. 


“Excuse me,” I hissed to a nearby Production Assistant. “Is this the RJD set? Is Speedman in the building?”


The PA looked at me as if I’d just asked for directions to the moon. “Not at all. We're doing pick-up shots for 'Pretty Ugly,' Erica Dunton’s feature.” 


My shoulders slumped. I looked at the PA, and the ghost of Catherine O’Hara possessed me. 


“I wasn’t in that movie,” I said. 


“What movie?” the PA asked, checking her headset. 


“For Your Consideration,” I said, and then added, “That’s the name of the movie.” 


“I haven’t seen it,” she replied, her patience thinning. 


“No matter,” I said with a heavy sigh. “I wasn’t in it anyway.” 


“Okay… now please,” she pointed toward the curb, “move behind the dumpster, please; you’re in the shot.” 


“I told you,” Amy’s voice rang out in my skull, sounding suspiciously like she was eating popcorn. “You aren’t in Miami, Genome. You’re in a nuanced character study about the American Dream. And move aside, you’re blocking the light.” 


The Bridge to Nowhere

Defeated, I headed back toward the Cape Fear Memorial Bridge. 


“WECT said there was intermittent traffic control!” I whined, looking at the line of cars. “They didn't say traffic was stopped!” 


“That’s not a film crew, Genome,” Amy sighed. “That’s the NCDOT preservation project. You aren’t looking at a film set; it's a bridge inspection.” 


“Don’t worry,” Amy said, her voice softening a fraction. “There’s always tomorrow. Just… maybe change the hat, so the locals don’t recognize you as the man hiding behind a trash dumpster.” 


“Thanks, Amy.” 


“Don’t thank me. Just get me an almond. I’m starving.” 


Roll the Credits

I arrived home having found no sign of a film crew nor an actor, not even a stand-in, and I’m sure the crew of 'Pretty Ugly' is still talking about the man who tried to interview their dumpster. 


“Complete failure,” I muttered. 


“Was it?” Amy asked. “You didn't find fictional South Beach, but you found the very real soul of Wilmington. You found a ferret named Reginald and enjoyed a free coffee. Maybe it's just me, but you may have found an authentic Double Whammy.” 


Was she right? I wondered. It's true that on The Circular Journey, we often set out for a specific destination only to realize the true value of a day was in the detours. I didn’t find the set, but I lived the journey, and that is my motto for 2026. 


“Now,” Amy added, “write the post. And for heaven’s sake, mention the ferret. It ups the stakes.”

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