Текст книги "Love Unscripted"

Автор книги: Tina Reber

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Текущая страница: 26 (всего у книги 40 страниц)

appearance changed one bit from when we had our picture taken unloading the car earlier. It was getting ridiculous and downright annoying. Is this

the way our life would be forever?

I closed the steel kitchen door behind us and punched in the security code. Ryan had turned the light on, illuminating the new wall and door that

spanned the length of the kitchen.

“Wow!” I breathed out. The new thirty foot wall was definitely a distraction for my thoughts. I noticed Pete had even painted the new wall white.

“This looks really good!” Ryan beamed.

I was glad to see that the new interior door had a lock on it, but Ryan was able to open it. Mounted on the wall inside the hallway was a new light

switch. Next to it a keypad for the new security system glowed in the dark. Pete had even installed an ornate wooden railing where the original wall

used to be.

Ryan pulled the note that was taped next to the keypad off the wall. “Call security co. to program new code – new keys are on kitchen counter

upstairs,” he read aloud.

“It’s one o’clock out on the West Coast. Don’t forget you have to call Follweiler’s office today.” I tossed my car keys onto the kitchen table.

“Thanks for reminding me. What would I do without you?” He kissed me quickly.

“I don’t know? Forget shit?” I teased him.

He gave me a light shove. “Call the security company, get us hooked up. I’ll call Follweiler.”

We went our separate ways to make our phone calls. I programmed the new code into the panel to activate it. Ryan had made our dinner plans

with Mr. Follweiler’s assistant and when he came back into the kitchen he was on the phone with his agent.

It was almost humorous how many phone calls we both made. Ryan was due back on set first thing in the morning; he called Mike to arrange

safe transportation. I called Marie to check in on how they were holding up. They had just gotten home a half-hour ago and cancelled on playing

poker tonight.

Ryan was on the phone with Pete, yapping away on everything from construction to fishing.

My last call was to Cory to see if he’d be able to start at four, since I had no valid reason not to be open tomorrow. I was glad that he was willing

to work any hours I was able to give him. I even hired his roommate, Trevor, over the phone. I needed someone to card people at the door during

the week. I wasn’t going to allow what happened last Tuesday to repeat itself.

I ran downstairs to the get the mail and removed my makeshift cardboard closed sign from the window. There was a huge pile of mail on my pub

floor. There was also a FedEx package and several boxes sitting on the bar. I opened a garbage bag and stuffed it with all the mail and deliveries

so I could carry it upstairs.

“Ryan?” I called out, setting the bag on the floor.

“Bathroom,” he yelled. I knew him and his daily routine well enough to know that at this time of the day, he’d be gone for a while.

I grabbed his cell phone off the kitchen table and quickly toggled through his stored numbers looking for listings for Matt and Scott. He had quite

a few girls’ names in his phone, which bothered me to see. Amy, Brandy, Cheryl, Gina, Heather; the list went on and on. The twinge of jealously

worsened when I passed Lauren Delaney’s cell number.

I was hoping that he’d never want or need to call any of those numbers ever again. It would be so easy for me to delete them all, but that would

be wrong. Back to the task at hand… there were a few choices for the name Scott but only one listing for Matt. I quickly wrote his number down on a

piece of paper and shoved it in my purse.

I looked at the FedEx package. It was overnighted from California and addressed to William Bailey, c/o Mitchell’s Pub. I noticed that Pete wrote

a note on the back to let us know he signed for the package.

“Do you know a William Bailey?” I asked, handing the package to Ryan.

“Yep. That’s me.”

I must have looked confused.

“What’s my middle name?” he asked.

“William.”

“What was my dog’s name?”

“Bailey.” It made sense now. “Okay, I get the connection but why the alias? What’s that about?”

“It’s my secret name. Well, one of them,” he admitted. “I can’t use my real name on anything. If fans or whoever see Ryan Christensen printed on

things – it disappears or becomes public knowledge. It’s also one of the names I use when I check into hotels and stuff.”

“I noticed your luggage had ‘Shell-B Enterprises’ on it. Is that an alias too?”

“Yeah, well, that’s my company name,” he sighed, scratching his forehead. “You have no idea the lengths people go through to dig up private

information.” He pulled out his wallet and showed me his credit card.

“This has my real name on it ‘cause that’s who I am, but see – underneath my name – there’s my company name. My credit card bills, my cell

phone number, are all listed under my company name. It’s the way things have to be to keep records private. If my luggage gets lost, no one knows

it’s mine. My bags would get shipped to California to my manager.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” I said, but still curious. “Shell-B? Where did that come from?”

He laughed. “That’s a mixture of a couple of things. First of all it was my dream car, which I now own. Sitting in my dad’s garage is a 2008

Shelby GT500 KR. Blue with silver stripes. Two hundred and eight original miles on her. The other reason for the name, well, do you remember our

conversation about the shell game?”

I nodded, remembering that time in the shower fondly.

“Why not make finding me a shell game too?” His face glowed with his secret. “Whenever you travel now, you’ll have a fake name on your

luggage. We’ll have to take a look at what you have your name on. People can hack into shit on the Internet like you wouldn’t believe.”

I was twirling my cell phone under my fingers while we were talking. I was curious about something completely different from what we were

talking about. I punched a few buttons and waited.

Ryan’s phone started to play. The music was familiar, but I didn’t know the artist.

“Why are you calling me?” He laughed.

“Just curious,” I admitted. “That’s my ringtone? Who is that?”

He twitched his lips and smiled. “It’s an oldie. Did you ever hear of Cream?”

I nodded. He picked his phone up but I stopped him.

“No, wait! Just let it play. I want to hear it! Sunshine of your love? Is that the name of the song?”

“Yep. It’s a cool song, but I never get to hear it ‘cause somebody you and I know has issues about calling me.” He gently kicked my foot under

the table.

Ryan ripped open the tab on the FedEx package and pulled out three packs of paper. Each pack was an inch or two thick.

“What’s all that?” I asked while I dumped the mail out of the garbage bag onto the table.

“Scripts. More scripts. What the hell is all of that?” he yelled.

I gasped when I saw multiple 4x6 glossy pictures of Ryan and our stalker, Angelica, from the day that he posed with her in my pub. There were

also glossy pictures of Ryan alone; mostly side shots of him entering through the back door of the pub. The scariest of all the photos was a picture

of Ryan and me walking down the sidewalk. Angel had scribbled out my face with a black magic marker and drew a target on my chest. I almost

passed out at the table.

I flipped one of the pictures over and read the back.

I desperately separated all the pictures from the pile of mail. Ryan’s eyes grew wider and his face turned white. Each picture had a handwritten

message:

And the picture of me with the bullseye had three words written on the back…

Ryan’s face still showed his horror and his fingers were unsteady as he started to open up one of the boxes addressed to him. I heard him gasp

in shock again. Inside the box was a brown plush teddy bear that had a big gash down the front of its chest and some of the white stuffing was

sticking out. There was tape across the opening. The note inside the box read “I’m broken-hearted without you.”

The other boxes had the same handwriting on them. Ryan didn’t touch them. He shoved it all back into the garbage bag.

I was shaking but I still had my mental faculties. “Ryan, don’t throw any of that away. We’ll need all of that for court.”

In total there were four packages, seventeen pictures, three threatening letters, and nine greeting cards from her. She even included what

appeared to be drops of blood in one of the cards.

Ryan quickly called his manager. “David, I want private security immediately for Taryn. I want someone posted inside her business during

working hours and I want someone to escort her anywhere she has to go when I’m not with her. I’ll also be hiring a lawyer out here in Rhode Island.”

The only thing preventing us from both screaming was the knowledge that she was in police custody at that very moment.

The next morning, our schedule quickly shifted back to our normal routine, and I promised Ryan that I wouldn’t leave the building. I handed him a

to-go cup of coffee and kissed him goodbye in the hallway. Mike shielded Ryan as he climbed into the back seat of the car sent to deliver him

safely to the set, and the paparazzi were waiting to take his picture the minute he stepped out the door.

I was mentally preparing to open the pub back up for business and reviewing the precautions I needed to get in place before I unlocked the front

door. Despite all the terrifying circumstances from yesterday, I also had a top-secret birthday party to plan.

“Hi, is this Matt?” I asked hesitantly, staring at the piece of paper that contained the phone number I stole from Ryan’s cell.

“Yeah? Who’s this?” he replied.

“My name is Taryn. Taryn Mitchell. Do you know who I am?” I didn’t know if Ryan’s friends kept tabs on the news.

“No. Should I?” he asked defensively.

“How can I say this without you hanging up on me. Are you near a computer?”

“What?” Matt questioned.

“Do you have access to a computer?” I asked again.

“Yeah. I’m sitting in front of one. Why?” he asked.

“Please go on the Internet and search my name.” I spelled my full name for him so he’d get it right.

“Awe, come on! Can’t you people just leave him alone?” Matt groaned.

I knew by his response that he found me.

“Matt, please, just listen to me. It’s really Taryn Mitchell calling you. Your long time friend Ryan is living with me in Rhode Island.”

“Bullshit!” he replied.

“No, for real. I am telling you the truth.”

“I’m not convinced, but I’m glad to see Ry’s got a smoking-hot girlfriend.”

“Thanks. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

I remembered a funny story Ryan told me about Matt. “Okay, how is this for convincing? Sitting under a car cover in his dad’s garage is a 2008

Shelby GT500, blue with silver stripes. You beg him every time you see him to let you drive it but he won’t let you because you have a habit of

flipping cars. You’re the only guy he knows that could flip their mom’s station wagon.”

“Hah!” He laughed out loud. “Is he there? Let me talk to him!”

“You believe me now?” I chuckled. “No, he’s not. He is on set.” I explained that I wanted him and Scott to come to the surprise party.

I called Kelly next. I needed a devious plan to get the entire cast to my place for Ryan’s birthday. She said she’d get word to the director through

Cal.

The last call I made, which I purposely saved for last, was to a lawyer in Providence.

“I have to be on set at that time, Honey, so you’ll have to go to the lawyer without me,” Ryan said when he called me at lunchtime. “Unless you

can change the appointment to another time when I can go?”

“No, that’s okay. I can go by myself. I’ll take care of it. The lawyer said that both of us don’t need to be there.”

“You won’t be going anywhere by yourself,” he stated with authority. “The Security Company is sending someone over now. They told me

somebody should be there this afternoon. I’ll see you tonight.”

A few moments later the pub doorbell rang. I ran downstairs expecting to find an older, father type bodyguard, but instead there was a FedEx

deliveryman at my door. He handed me a letter-size package addressed to Taryn L. Mitchell. It was from a bank in Sioux Falls, South Dakota.

I tore open the zip tape; inside was another envelope that contained a new platinum credit card with Taryn L. Mitchell, Shell-B Enterprises

embossed on it. My face twisted in anger as I tossed the package onto the kitchen table. Ryan and I would definitely have a discussion about this

one when he got home.

It was almost two o’clock when my doorbell rang again. This time there was an unbelievably gorgeous young man standing at my door. He was

wearing a black leather jacket, blue jeans, and silver-rimmed Oakley sunglasses. He had Heath Ledger’s face and Vin Diesel’s body, with sandy

blond hair. I was tempted to rub my eyes. Part of my brain was already burning in Hell.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Mitchell? I’m Kyle Trent, Protection Services.” He held his hand out to greet me.

“Hi. It’s nice to meet you. Come in. Please, call me Taryn.” I swallowed hard when he unzipped his jacket. The scent of his leather jacket and

cologne permeated the air. I noticed that his chest was chiseled underneath his fitted black T-shirt and he was wearing a concealed pistol under his

right armpit. Why couldn’t the Security Company send me an old guy? Holy shit, he’s young and gorgeous. This is not good.

We sat at the large table in the middle of the pub to have our first meeting. Kyle told me that he was a third degree black belt, a weapons

specialist, and a trainer within his agency. I tried to stay engaged in the conversation, but my mind kept on wandering. I found myself staring at his

lips.I informed him of my current situation, filling him in on the necessary details about the celebrity I was dating and our unwanted stalker. I showed

him a picture of Angelica.

Kyle was very easy to talk to. He told me that he lives just on the other side of Providence in a small town in Massachusetts, so it didn’t take him

very long to drive here.

He did an inspection of the pub, familiarizing himself with the layout, security systems, and exits. We ended with a tour of the apartment.

It felt awkward – almost like I was committing a sin – to have Kyle in my apartment. Ryan had hired him, so it wasn’t like I found this totally

gorgeous man on my own and invited him up for a cup of coffee, but something still gnawed at my gut. It could only be guilt that tormented me; guilt

for allowing my eyes to look at another man. I had to get him out of my apartment – fast.

Several female fans were already waiting outside on my sidewalk, but I wasn’t going to open until Cory and his roommate, Trevor showed up. I

introduced the guys to my new bodyguard and filled them in on why Kyle was hired. Cory looked at me oddly and then shook his head. I wondered if

he was worried about our stalker, but soon the meaning behind his attitude became more evident when he hand-carried three new cases of beer

out to the bar, flexing his arm muscles along the way.

Trevor took a seat at the front door to ID everyone who came into the pub. Sure enough, half a dozen girls walked into the bar. It upset me to see

that Ryan’s fans just didn’t know when to quit.

Marie stopped abruptly and gasped when she saw my new bodyguard for the first time. “You are so screwed,” she whispered at me in passing.

Her eyes flickered over at Kyle, who was sitting at the edge of the bar, keeping watch like a hawk.

“I know. Ryan is not going to be happy when he sees him,” I whispered.

“How old is he?” Marie asked.

“He told me he’s twenty nine,” I muttered privately.

“Married?”

I shook my head no.

It was a few minutes after nine when my cell phone played Ryan’s ringtone in my pocket. “He’s home now,” I said to Marie.

Ryan, of course, wanted to meet my new protector. We all met downstairs in the pub kitchen. Just as I had suspected, Ryan morphed from being

happy to be home to jealous and pissed in an instant.

I hugged and kissed Ryan quickly when he came through the door. I purposely did this in front of Kyle with the intent to send a message to both

men exactly where my loyalties lie. I tucked my fingers into Ryan’s back pocket and held on to him the whole time that we talked to Kyle.

After our meeting, I took Ryan by the hand and we went upstairs to have dinner together in our apartment. He was quiet… too quiet, and I knew

him well enough to know why. I stood up and repositioned myself on his lap, straddling him to get his full attention. That made a smile appear on his

lips.I took his face in my hands and kissed him sensually on his cheek. “How was your day?”

“It was all right,” he muttered.

I knew he was lying. I gave him a smirk to let him know I wasn’t buying it.

He pursed his lips. “I kept messing up my lines. I had a hard time concentrating today.” He shook his head in disgust.

My hands massaged his shoulders. “Today is over. Put it behind you. Things will be better tomorrow, you’ll see,” I whispered in his ear.

He gave me a brief smile, his shoulders slumped in defeat. He ran his warm hands over my back.

I found myself getting aroused by trying to get him in a better mood. I nibbled his ear. He let out a pleasurable moan.

His hands slid forward over my ribs; his thumbs rubbed over my breasts. My body instantly tingled from his touch.

“Mr. Christensen,” I murmured on his lips, “your presence is requested in the bedroom.”

He smiled before locking his lips to mine.

Twenty minutes later I resumed my position behind the bar with a smug smile on my face. When I left Ryan, he still had his jeans wrapped

around his left ankle and he was lying flat on his back on the bed.

I was pleasantly surprised when Ryan came down to the pub a little while later. He was wearing my tattered Mitchell’s Pub baseball hat and a

satisfied grin. It pleased me to see him wearing another one of my possessions.

He took a seat next to Kyle and never took his eyes off of me for the rest of the night. Kyle stopped every girl that stepped up to Ryan and

politely asked them to leave Mr. Christensen alone. Kyle also shooed away every girl that was brave enough to approach him as well. I had a new

appreciation for my bodyguard. So did Ryan.

The next morning, Kyle arrived exactly as scheduled to drive me to the lawyer. He placed the box of evidence Ryan and I had gathered from our

stalker in the trunk of the car before escorting me out of the pub safely. I felt his hand press in my lower back as he held the car door open for me.

His cologne was soft and masculine and wrapped my head in confusing thoughts. The paparazzi thoroughly loved the new image in their lenses.

Once I was finished meeting with our new lawyer, Kyle drove me back to the pub and escorted me into the building. The paparazzi were

relentless with their aggravating questions, although I think it was apparent to them that Kyle was a bodyguard by the way he shielded me.

Kyle did a safety sweep of the pub, the bathrooms, and my apartment before leaving me alone for the afternoon. He would return before four

o’clock when I opened to the public.

After Ryan came home and we had dinner together, I resumed my spot behind the bar. Ryan eventually came downstairs into the pub and sat

next to Kyle. My bodyguard was excellent at keeping the unwanted women at bay. Finally Ryan was able to just hang out and drink a beer while

watching sports on the big screen… just like a normal person. That still didn’t stop women from taking pictures of him with their camera phones.

Ryan was in mid sentence, telling me a funny story about what Kat did on set this morning, when I noticed a group of women walk into the bar.

One particular woman stood out – the one with kinky-curly hair and eyes like the devil.

“Oh my God, Ryan!” I gasped. “She just walked in! Run!” I ordered.

“Kyle! That’s her!” Ryan breathed out as he stood up; his haste caused his barstool to tip back and tangle in his legs. Ryan’s body stumbled

backwards into mine. I caught him ineptly in my arms as his off-balance body weight pushed me back into the wall. We both looked on in terror as

Angelica made her approach.

She was heading straight for Ryan and me; her eyes never left us. Her skin was sallow and the dark circles under her eyes made her look even

more menacing in the dimmed pub lighting. She was on a mission and nothing was going to stop her.

Kyle moved so fast that it was hard to discern his actions. With one precise strike, he placed her in an arm and headlock; a split second later

she was face down on the ground. With expert movements, he had her hands restrained behind her back.

“Ryan! Why are you doing this to me?” Angelica cried and screamed. “I love you!” she yelled. “That bitch has brainwashed you! I’m gonna kill

her!” My fingers trembled as I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and dialed 911.

Ryan was granted the morning off from filming on the day of the court hearing. He put on his suit jacket and I wore my nice dress pants and a cream

colored sweater underneath my black suede coat. I knew we’d be photographed and filmed relentlessly. Ryan’s manager arranged to have a

security team escort us in and out of the courthouse.

Ryan and I scurried into the large, black SUV that waited for us in the alleyway. Kyle and Mike, our bodyguards, shielded us as we climbed into

the vehicle. Directly behind our car was another black SUV with additional security guards. Ryan’s Publicist, Marla, was already seated in the other

car.

Reporters, photographers, and fans were lined up outside the courthouse when we arrived. People were shouting and screaming at our car. It

was pure chaos.

“Once Team two is in place we will exit,” Mike informed from the front seat. He pushed his communication earpiece deeper into his ear.

I was sandwiched in the back seat between Ryan and Kyle. Despite how safe I should have felt sitting between these two men, I couldn’t stop

myself from trembling.

Kyle sighed then patted and rubbed my forearm to reassure me.

Ryan glared at Kyle’s gesture. He gathered one of my shaking hands in his and raised it to his lips.

“It will be okay, Honey,” Ryan whispered, pulling me closer. “We’ll get through this.”

Reporters attempted to interview us as we exited the car. Ryan and I kept our attention focused on getting through the courthouse doors. Court

officers and private security surrounded us as we entered the building. Mike and Kyle, minus their firearms, escorted us to courtroom number three.

Not only was Kyle protecting me, today he would also be a witness.

Ryan and I were seated at a large wooden table that faced the raised dark oak bench where the judge would sit. Our attorney was already

seated; the box of scary evidence was setting on the floor next to him.

Cory and Marie were seated in the first row behind us. They too were witnesses to Angelica’s threats.

Sitting at the other table across from us was Angelica’s attorney. Our lawyer leaned over and informed us that she would be using the Public

Defender’s office to represent her case today.

One male and one female police officer escorted Angelica into the courtroom. She was wearing an orange colored prison outfit and her arms

were handcuffed to a chain that wrapped around her waist. Her ankles were shackled. She didn’t look at us when she entered.

Angelica’s hair was all disheveled, sticking out in all directions. The circles under her eyes were deep and purple, making the starkness of her

yellow skin even more pronounced.

“All rise!” the court clerk announced. “Court is now in session. The honorable Judge Brian Keller presiding.”

The court proceedings were long and tedious. Our attorney had to present each letter, picture, and package separately and one-by-one they

were all entered in as evidence. I even provided a copy of the picture of Angelica grabbing Ryan’s arm when we went to Cal and Kelly’s. That

picture of her attack was in every magazine and splattered all over the Internet news.

Our attorney informed us that he had to present every piece of evidence carefully so that Angelica’s actions would be deemed a credible threat

to our safety.

Each one of our witnesses was called upon to testify that they indeed heard Angelica threaten to kill me.

Her public defender tried to cross-examine our witnesses, but it did her case no good to do so.

Our attorney played the 911 audio tape recording of my call to police the night she came into the pub. I shuddered, listening to my panicked

voice begging for police to come immediately and Angelica’s rant in the background as she threatened to slice me into pieces. I choked into tears

while the nightmare of that evening replayed in my thoughts. Ryan squeezed my hand tightly under the table.

We sat and listened as each of her letters was read out loud to the judge. The content of her letters was equally disturbing. This deluded woman

actually thought she was rescuing Ryan from the sluts who were ruining his career and stealing his love away from her.

The judge questioned Angelica directly, asking her to explain her behavior.

She looked at Ryan, but he looked away.

“He hid messages in his movie for me. He knew I was smart enough to figure them out. He didn’t want the others to know that he was in love

with me,” she whispered. “I just want to protect him, but she made him leave for three days so she could brainwash him.” Angelica pointed at me.

“She’s afraid he’s going to leave her for me! That’s why she crawled into his head, like a worm, and turned him against me.”

It was hard to breathe while she spoke. This girl was the poster child for modern day horror movies. She was the reason nightmares existed in

the first place.

The judge deliberated with the lawyers and then delivered his verdict. A permanent no contact restraining order was granted and in effect

immediately. She was informed that it meant that she could not mail, email, call, text, or send anything. Any attempt to contact either one of us,

interfere with us or any member of our families, our friends, and fellow employees would be deemed a violation of the order. She was instructed to

remain no less than five hundred yards, or roughly a quarter of a mile away from us at all times. The judge also ordered that she be subjected to a

psychiatric evaluation. Another hearing would be scheduled to sentence her for the violation of the temporary restraining order.

“Is that it?” I softly asked our lawyer.

“Yes. She’ll be incarcerated for a while,” he replied. “I will represent you when she is sentenced for the PFA violation. You don’t need to be

present for that. I’m sure this was traumatic enough for you.”

Ryan and I received new copies of the permanent restraining order, and with that our day in court was over. Our last hurdle was still ahead of

us… getting through the gauntlet of reporters and paparazzi that waited outside the courthouse doors.

Chapter 23 – Celebration

“Do we have to be quiet?” Ryan’s friend Scott asked out loud.

“No. He would be suspicious if the bar was quiet,” I said.

I was glad that we had a separate entrance from the back door to our apartment now. Ryan would never see everyone gathered in the pub until I

brought him downstairs. He also would have no reason to look in the guestroom and accidentally see his friends’ suitcases.

Tammy had prepared a lavish buffet of food and desserts and everyone was snacking on the variety of hors d'oeuvres scattered all around the

bar. All our friends were here, waiting for the guest of honor to arrive.

I went upstairs to wait for Ryan and was relieved when he finally came through the door. I called Marie quickly to let her know that Ryan was in

the building.

“Hi Honey,” he said glumly, giving me an unenthusiastic kiss. I knew why he was sad but I couldn’t ruin the surprise.

“What’s wrong? Are you in a bad mood?” I asked, even though I knew he’d be like this.

“Sort of. Actually I’m pissed. I thought these people were my friends. Cal and Kelly are going to meet us at the restaurant but everyone else had

plans or excuses. Even Kat blew me off!”

“I’m sorry.” I tried to be sympathetic.

“Yeah, but… ah, it doesn’t matter.” He threw his keys onto the kitchen the table. I could tell his feelings were hurt. “Tomorrow is our last day of

filming. Everyone is going to be leaving. I just thought that we could all get together before…”

I stepped over to him and wrapped my arms around his waist. “I promise that you will have a good time tonight. When we get back from dinner, I

have a special birthday surprise for you. You’ll just have to trust me.” I grinned at him.

“Come on… let’s go do a few shots before Mike comes back. I’m planning on getting you all liquored up on your birthday.”

He reluctantly followed me downstairs, grumbling the whole way about how his whacko fans were going to scream when they saw him in the

pub. We no longer had our Ryan Christensen fan buffer working for us; Ryan had dismissed Kyle from being my bodyguard as soon as the court

proceedings were over and Angelica was locked up.

I ignored his bellyaching and dialed Pete’s number. That was the signal that Ryan was on his way.

“Why do I smell food?” he asked when we stepped into the pub kitchen. I smiled, got behind him, and pushed his hips so he would go through

the swing door into the pub.

“Surprise! Happy Birthday!” everyone yelled.

Ryan’s face lit up when he saw all his friends that he thought didn’t care about him were gathered and waiting. Most of the production crew was

there as well.

“Okay! You got me!” Ryan admitted. “No wonder everyone had other plans tonight!” He went from person to person, giving out handshakes and

hugs. Eventually he noticed his longtime friends, Matt and Scott, standing by the bar.

“Holy shit!” Ryan yelled, giving Matt a manly handshake and hug. “What the? When the hell did you guys get here?”

Ryan’s reaction was exactly how I hoped it would be. He was elated and totally taken by surprise.

“We got here this morning,” Matt informed. “Your lovely girlfriend over there picked us up at the airport.”

“Awe man, it’s good to see ya!” Ryan was hugging Scott now.

I stepped over to Ryan and he wrapped his arm around my shoulder.

“I can’t believe you did all of this!” He gave me a big kiss.