Текст книги "Love Unrehearsed"

Автор книги: Tina Reber

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 27 страниц)

After we cleaned up, we nestled together back in bed. Ryan’s chest pressed to my back, his strong, warm embrace holding me. I ran my fingertips over the tendons in his hand, the fine hair on his forearm, dreading the moment when I’d be forced to sleep without him. I kissed his arm, appreciating this moment, thankful that we have this togetherness, right here, right now. I felt the steadiness of his warm breath on my shoulder, as I lay there listening to the sounds of him falling asleep.

Discussing when I’d go back home would have to wait another day.

It felt nice to sleep in since Ryan’s day wouldn’t start until almost 10 A.M. While we enjoyed a leisurely morning, I packed my copies of the production agreements and shooting schedules into my newly acquired messenger bag. All of my necessities to keep very occupied were carefully stowed inside.

Ryan’s set assistant, Paula, was full of energy and very eager to please when we arrived, fetching coffee for both of us. Apparently Mike got special treatment; she had a chocolate-covered éclair stashed just for him. Even Ryan didn’t get an éclair.

I reviewed the shooting schedule, noting Ryan’s times and the scenes planned for the day, then decided to listen to the messages on the pub’s line.

Hearing Thomas say my name, twice, was unnerving, as if some cruel joke were being played on my memory, twisting my hatred into longing. Both times he requested I call him, not wanting to tell me the true reason for his calls, only saying it was urgent. The second message had more information. Though still vague, it contained the one word that would get me to call him back—Melanie.

“The only thing he said was that Mel’s real sick,” I said to Marie. She was getting ready to open the

pub and interview two people for bartender/waitress positions when I called. “He didn’t say with what.

Just that there might not be enough time.”

“Shit. I’ll try calling her mom. I’m surprised she didn’t call me if she was back in town,” Marie said, sounding distracted.

“When do you go to the lawyer?”

“Tuesday, one o’clock. You going to be back by then?”

“Yeah, I’ll make sure of it.”

I heard her sigh into the phone. “Good. Tammy’s getting really grumpy. I think she’s mad that we’re not helping with their wedding but I’m not exactly sure what we’re supposed to be doing. I talked to her mom about the bridal shower and we figured we could either use the bar or go to a place like Jake’s On The Pier.”

“I’m coming home soon. I’ll call you when I have my flight info.” I’d have to tell Ryan tonight.

We were driven back to our condo by one of the set drivers, with Mike, as always, in the front seat. I presumed he’d be coming in with us to do his quick security sweep, so I was surprised when he hurried us along and left the minute the lights in our condo were on.

“That was weird. So where is he off to in such a hurry?”

Ryan shrugged. “I don’t know.”

I could tell he was keeping something from me. I smiled at his bad fib while watching him change into a pair of sweats. “Sure you do. He’s been disappearing a lot. Why won’t you tell me?”

Ryan sighed and then gave in. “Because you’ll probably get pissed and I will never lie to you, so . . .”

Shit. After that comment, it’s too late for him to hold back now. I traded jeans for my favorite yoga pants. “Who is she?”

“Who is who?”

Yeah, now’s not the time to play ignorant, mister.

He huffed. “Paula, my set assistant.”

I pictured her clearly. My height—five-sixish. Thin. Cute and spunky with short jet-black hair cut blunt at her chin. An inch-wide electric blue streak painted in her hair. Black framed glasses that gave her that naughty librarian look. “This isn’t their first date, is it?”

Ryan gave me a look that said he wasn’t denying it.

“Wonderful. Marie’s going to be devastated.”

Ryan groaned as I walked out of our bedroom. “He’s just been taking her out to dinner, Tar.”

“For all you know. And he’s also been calling Marie every day, filling her with hope.” I felt my disappointment come on like a burn. “I knew it. And I warned him, too.”

I heard Ryan curse as he followed me down the stairs. “Look, he likes Marie a lot. Trust me. But that isn’t happening for him right now, so what is he supposed to do? Quit living?”

I couldn’t stop my swell of anger, knowing how torn-up Marie was just from all the crap Gary was putting her through. “I just wish he’d kept his tongue out of my best friend’s mouth. This is going to tear her heart out for sure.”

Ryan followed me into the kitchen. “So he kissed her. It’s not like he pledged his undying love to her.”

“I get that, Ryan. That’s not the point. He said he wanted to be updated on what’s going on in her life.

He not only said that to her, he said it to me in private. You don’t make that step and then date your boss’s set assistant. You just don’t. He could have kept his distance but he made a choice knowing she

was extremely vulnerable at the time. And the daily phone calls? You can’t do that kind of stuff to girls.

She let him in even though she had brick walls up and now this is going to mess with her head even more.”

Ryan put his long legs up on the couch, tangling them with mine. “I get it. Why do you think it took me weeks before I kissed you? I could have had my lips all over yours the very first day I met you, but I didn’t.”

Yeah right. “No you couldn’t have.”

His confident look said otherwise. “I could have and you know it. But I didn’t want to rush into anything. Not with you. Kissing complicates things. I took it slow because I wanted you to know me, really know me, before we got physical. So I understand that them kissing has made Marie have feelings beyond friendship.”

I climbed over his legs and curled up on his chest. “I know you.”

Ryan shifted, getting us comfortable. He kissed my forehead. “I know.”

My thoughts swirled. “Apparently those feelings beyond friendship aren’t strong enough for Mike to abstain since he’s on a date with another woman.”

Ryan groaned. “You’re blowing this out of proportion. You don’t know that.”

I nuzzled into his chest and closed my eyes. “Well, what I do know is that as long as he’s picking dates from the production crew, I want him to stay far away from my best friend.”

Ryan rested a hand on my rear. “Don’t you think it’s up to them to decide that?”

“No,” I growled on his skin. “I’m deciding for her because I won’t let her heart get broken by another idiot. Mike had his chance and he blew it. I hope he and Paula are happy together.”

That got me a swat on the rear, followed by a squeeze. “Now you’re just being grumpy.”

I ran my fingertips over the defined dip in his chest. “Disappointed is more like it. After what Marie’s been telling me that he’s been whispering in her ear when they talk, I thought he considered her to be something special. But apparently she must have misunderstood.”

He lifted my chin up and glared at me.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I said. “He’s the one out on a date with someone else. I’m serious. I will not allow anyone to hurt her again. Gary never treated her right, which leads me to something else we need do discuss.”

He tipped up an eyebrow.

“My best friend needs me to come home.”

I began missing Ryan terribly the moment my airplane taxied down the runway. It had been almost a month since I’d been home, but everything seemed to right itself the moment I saw my makeshift family waiting for me in the airport. God, how I missed my friends. I didn’t realize how much until I saw their faces light up.

Pete snatched me up first, lifting me off the ground. “’Bout time you got your ass back home. Missed ya, kid.”

I hugged and kissed Tammy and then wrapped my arms around Marie’s neck. It wasn’t until we piled into Tammy’s Camry that I sensed some tension between her and Marie. Marie had asked her a question but Tammy ignored her, which prompted Marie to appear disheartened.

Walking up the steps to my apartment felt familiar but somewhat strange, since I hadn’t been there for a few weeks. Tammy pulled some aluminum baking pans out of the pub kitchen before following us up

the steps.

“I thought you’d be hungry so I made my fried chicken that you love so much,” Tammy announced. I turned and hugged her. God I loved them all so much.

I spotted a few boxes in my living room and presumed they were Marie’s. “Were you able to get some of your stuff from the house?”

Marie shook her head. “No. Gary won’t let me in the house.” She pointed at two black garbage bags. “I went over there the other day and found those sitting on the side porch. It’s mostly winter clothes and stuff I don’t wear.”

I growled, aggravated enough for the both of us. “What do you mean he won’t let you in the house?

Did he lock you out?”

Marie shrugged. It was obvious that all this stress was taking its toll on her. “It will get straightened out.”

I was surprised she didn’t just kick the door in. “I called the bank and verified that they change the routing for your automatic deposit to your new account. Did you get your paycheck?”

She nodded.

“What about the check from the fifteenth?”

Marie massaged her temples. “Went into our joint account. I pulled two hundred out at the ATM and he called me bitching about owing him money for bills. I guess the money is his until the lawyers sort it out.”

I quickly ran some numbers in my head. “So basically you have the shirt on your back, your winter clothing in a few garbage bags, and five hundred bucks.”

Marie’s face crinkled and big, fat tears pooled in her eyes.

I wrapped my arm around her shoulders. I’d never seen her this defeated—ever. “Don’t worry. We will figure this out. I’ll see if the bank can reverse the last deposit. And you’re staying here. No ifs, ands, or buts about that. We’ll get the spare room cleaned out and there’s storage in the basement.”

Marie leaned her head on my shoulder. Thankfully, she had an appointment to see her lawyer.

No matter what, I’d make sure she’d get her smile back.

It took exactly one week for the first indiscretion to hit the front cover of the gossip magazines. To say Marie was livid was putting it mildly. Her initial reaction of “What the fuck?” near the cash register in our local Whole Foods market had a few heads turning. When she continued with “that son of a” and a slew of other breathy expletives strung together into one long, creatively formed curse word, people started to gawk.

Marie glared at me. “You know about this?”

Fuck.

She slapped the paper down on the rubber conveyor belt. “Tar?”

I gave her my most innocent, compassionate look, knowing I had broken the best friend code.

“You want to explain this to me? Why I’m looking at this?”

No, not really. I continued to empty the cart, stalling for an answer. “I don’t know. All I know is they went out to eat together after Ryan wrapped for the day.”

She stared at me, incredulously. “And you didn’t think it was important to tell me?”

I knew she was mad at me or at the very least, disappointed. Hell, if the situation were reversed, I’d be angry, too. And hurt. “And tell you what, sweetie? That he had dinner with another person?”

She glared at the cover. Big, bold letters announced that Ryan’s newfound tryst had been stolen out from under him by none other than his bodyguard. Supposedly this is why I left Vancouver. “I can’t believe I fell for this. Again! Unbelievable. Son of a . . . Who is she?”

“Ryan’s set assistant.”

“Whore.”

I winced at her anger, hating that I knew he was dating someone else. But I hated lying to her even more. “It was dinner. A bunch of people went out.” Acid burned in my stomach. All that time I trusted Mike. I trusted him to be one of the good guys. I couldn’t break her heart all over again, telling her the truth. I wanted to punch the front cover and tear it to shreds. “Apparently Ryan’s cheating, too.” I handed it back to her.

Marie smashed the magazine back on the end cap, much to the obvious displeasure of the cashier.

“Talked to him last night,” she said ruefully.

“And?”

She shrugged. “He failed to mention he was a lying scumbag who’s dating Ryan’s assistant.” Marie opened up her purse. “I cannot believe I fell for his sweet bullshit. God, I’m so damn gullible.”

I set the bags of apples and grapes on the belt next. “Who are you calling?”

“Cheating bastard bodyguard. Going to tell him he can go fuck himself.”

I snatched her phone right out of her hand. “You don’t want to do that.”

“Why? Give me that back.”

“No. It was dinner. Mike’s been with Ryan every night since. They are attached at the hip. And you just filed for a divorce an hour ago so you’re not in a good place right now to make that call.”

Marie grabbed another magazine. “Look at this. According to this one you’re pumping Ryan full of drugs.”

“What?” I snatched it from her hand, feeling the blood rush from my head from seeing another outlandish headline.

Another celebrity tragedy in the making? Seaside’s Ryan Christensen fighting addiction to prescription drugs

Seems Ryan Christensen is set to follow in the footsteps of numerous celebrities who have fallen prey to the lures of prescription drugs. CV has learned that Ryan has been taking several different medications to combat depression. “The pressure is getting to him,” says one insider. Sources also say that Ryan’s new fiancée, barkeep Taryn Mitchell, isn’t helping. “She openly enables him, often encouraging him to drug up before public appearances. Everyone can see it. If he doesn’t get help soon, this could turn tragic.”

“What the hell?” I felt my fury roll in like a tsunami.

Marie grabbed the pages, reading the small article.

I grabbed my cell and started a text to Ryan. “Oh my God. This is bad. Bad, bad, bad.”

“Call me asap”

My cell chimed. I opened Ryan’s text.

“working what up?”

I texted back.

“CV mag says I’m pushing drugs on you and Marie is not happy about cover of Starr”

“Drugs? cover? wtf”

“Mike and Paula”

“call me now”

This was not a conversation to have while paying for groceries.

“2 minutes?”

“ok-love you”

“Love you more”

I shoved my phone back in my pocket.

“Ryan freaking Christensen,” Marie groaned. “He’s a megastar. You’d think he’d have better friends.”

The fact that she was lamenting over Mike and not about filing for a divorce from Gary was, I thought, a good thing.

“All I know is that they went to dinner. I’d talk to him before you get further bent out of shape. You of all people should know that those mags are nothing but poison.”

She grabbed the magazine again and opened it up to the pictures inside. “His hand is on her back, Tar.

He told me he was bored. That lying sack of shit. All the same; every one of them. Cheaters, liars, scum-fucking assholes.”

When we got to the car, Marie flopped her little body into the passenger seat. “Are you ever going to give me my phone back?”

I snapped my seat belt on. “You going to refrain from jumping to conclusions and making a call you might regret?”

She held out her hand. “I promise I won’t call him.”

I dug it out of my purse just as Ryan called on mine.

“What’s this message about drugs?” I could tell he was keeping his tone low.

“CV magazine has a write-up that you’re taking antidepressants, hon. How would they find that out?”

“Whatever. Just about every person I know takes them.”

“No, not ‘whatever.’ It said that an insider told them I force you to drug up before public appearances.

What the hell, Ryan?”

“They printed that?”

“Yes. There are only a select few that know you take medicine for anxiety. Your parents don’t even know. This is not public knowledge.” I glanced over at Marie, knowing she knew about Ryan’s medical condition.

Ryan cursed, loud and clear. “I can’t deal with this now. Call Trish. Get her on it.”

“Will do. I’ll call you later.”

Marie gave me an odd look when I turned left instead of right. “Where are we going?”

“I need to take care of this bank thing while we’re over here. I got another call about late fees for my father’s safe-deposit box.”

Twenty minutes later I paid the fees to a box for which I didn’t have a key.

“A hundred and eighty bucks to drill a lock out? Pete would do that for free,” Marie said as we walked out of the bank.

I unlocked the car doors. “Guess I know what I’m doing today.”

I set my purse and the copy of the bank bill down on the kitchen table when we returned to the apartment.

“The woman at the bank didn’t even say what kind of key to look for,” Marie said, going through the junk drawer in the kitchen.

I put the rest of our groceries away. “It wouldn’t be in there.”

I pulled out the top drawer of the desk in the third bedroom.

“Here, go through all these files and I’ll look through these. Open envelopes, everything.”

She started paging through the stacks of documents my dad had rubber-banded together.

“Tar, these are old gas and electric bills from six years ago. I’m pretty sure you don’t need to keep these.”

I took a quick scan and then placed the garbage can between us. “Toss anything that isn’t financial. I don’t need to keep old bills. What is in those new boxes over there? Is that your stuff?”

Marie tapped the bottom box with her foot. “Nope. That’s all Ryan Christensen fan mail.”

“Are you serious?” The stack was as tall as me and spanned the entire wall. I opened the top box, finding letters and packages addressed to both of us at Mitchell’s Pub. “Oh holy hell.”

“Yep. I didn’t know where else to put them. Hey, here’s a key. Looks like it belongs to an old Chevy.”

“Make a pile.” I grabbed the first letter on top, slicing it open with my finger. I scanned through the regular fangirl fawning—how he’s so wonderful, sexy, marvelous. I tossed it into the garbage bag. I noticed another one addressed to me care of Mitchell’s Pub. The address was handwritten in chicken scratch. I got as far as “you don’t deserve him you whore” when I threw it in the bag. My hand slightly trembled.

“Do you remember the night of the Reparation premiere, how Ryan was sort of freaking out?” I turned to look at her sitting on the floor.

“Uh huh.”

“He was worried that someone in the crowd might try to hurt us, shoot us, stick him with a needle while he was signing autographs.”

Marie gaped at me. “Seriously?”

I nodded.

I opened a manila bubble envelope that had what looked like underwear in it. “Eeeewwwwee.” Just looking at it made me want to disinfect my house.

Marie’s face scrunched. “Oh my God. Is that some girl’s underwear?”

I felt like throwing up. This was like eight boxes of Angelica the psycho-stalker all over again. “People on this planet are seriously screwed up.”

I tossed the fan panty envelope right into the trash bag. Some fangirl’s skanky panties were now going to pollute a landfill somewhere. “You know what’s even scarier?” I kicked the stack of boxes stuffed with fan mail. “When you start to actually add them all up.”

I rifled through the pile, grabbing a few that were addressed to me. The first letter was a weird mix of congratulations and warnings not to mess it up. Unbelievable. The next one wasn’t so benign. My hands started to shake. Not again. Not freaking again.

Marie noticed me stagger back into the boxes. “What’s that?”

It was hard to speak. “Um, it says someone is going to kill me if I don’t end it with Ryan.”

“Let me see that.” She grabbed it out of my hand. “Where’s the freaking envelope?”

I handed it over.

“No return address but it’s postmarked from Ohio. You need to tell Ryan about this. This shit isn’t funny. I know you don’t want another Kyle incident but chicks out there are crazy.”

She was right.

There was nothing stopping another person like Angelica from coming after me, and if the stacks of mail behind me were anything like the letter I held in my hand, there were a lot more psychos out there wishing for my demise.

Chapter 12

Skeletons

“Taryn, that guy sitting at the bar over there says he’s from . . . Oh Jesus cripes . . .”

I instantly looked over at Marie, who was murderously glaring at the front door of the pub. From her reaction I fully expected to see Gary sauntering in. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

Instant tightness gripped my chest and throat, causing my heart to thump and sending my natural fight-or-flight response into high gear. I couldn’t form a rational thought while the adrenaline was coursing into my blood. Why in hell would he ever think to show up here?

I felt slightly lightheaded and dizzy as I watched him approach the bar, his head dipped low with humbled hesitance. Running into an ex is one of the most awkward things in life to endure, but this run-in was not accidental.

Unfortunately, sometimes the skeletal remains of past relationships don’t stay buried forever.

Sometimes the dead inexplicably rise and manage to crawl their mangy asses out of the dark hole that you put them in. I felt sick to my stomach, seeing my past had come back to haunt me. I thought I had buried Thomas deeper than that.

Part of me wanted to shout at him to stop and get the hell out of my bar, but as I took in his overall appearance and extremely forlorn look, a moment of compassion held my words back.

“Like we don’t have enough crap to deal with around here,” Marie said out loud. It had been a week since she stopped accepting Mike’s calls and she was bitchy. “Either you tell him to leave or I will.”

I quickly noticed that Thomas was wearing the black button-down shirt that I had gotten him for Christmas several years ago underneath his well-worn motorcycle jacket, and casually untucked from his blue jeans. Did he wear it on purpose?

My fingers had opened those buttons before. My hands had sought out the hard chest beneath it.

Damn him.

As if I needed to be tortured some more, my eyes quickly skimmed over the bulge near his zipper. How I once used to crave that . . . him, voraciously. How he scorched his place in my soul, assuring that any man I dated would be measured against him.

I also noticed that the laces of his work boots were pulled apart and exposed; how silly that I used to find that so goddamned attractive, all those years I pined for him. I hated that something so simple as his looks was still able to pull an unwilling emotion of excitement out of me.

Thomas’s shaggy blond hair was tussled into casual disarray, giving him that delicious “I just crawled out of bed where I was naked and sinning” look. But instead of appearing cocky and ready for my icy greeting, his eyes were sorrowful, red. Pained?

He dropped his keys, his old black motorcycle helmet with the “Anarchy” sticker stuck on the back of it, and a pack of Marlboro Lites down on the bar.

“You can’t smoke in here so you might want to try another bar,” I grumbled at him as he climbed up on the seat in front of me.

His tongue was busy poking at his back molars while he gauged my reaction.

“It’s nice to see you too, Taryn,” Thomas said in a low, gravelly voice, reaching into his pocket. He was almost apologetic and definitely not in the mood for a fight. His eyes quickly toggled between me and Marie. “Can I have a beer or should I expect to be tossed out to the curb?”

The low, red circles that rimmed his green eyes were definitely out of place on his face. Over the years, I had seen Thomas at his best and at his worst, and he was definitely in a new state of low.

Something serious must have happened for him to gather up the nerve to come into my pub.

“I thought you quit smoking.”

Thomas leaned his elbows on the bar and used his index finger to point to the first cluster of beer taps.

“Yeah, I know,” I said. “You want a Sam Adams.” I pointed to the sign behind me that blatantly spelled out that “Management reserves the right to refuse service.”

“And here I thought coming here might actually make me feel better. So much for that idea,” he muttered.

If he was looking for some sympathy he came to the wrong place. I crossed my arms over my chest defiantly. “Wow. You’re capable of identifying your feelings now? That’s new.”

My comeback made him wince. I had definitely hit a nerve. He wiped a hand over his dirty blond goatee, the very same one I used to nibble on. “Well played. I guess I deserved that.” He nodded.

I hated being such a hardened bitch to him. It warred against all those other feelings of first love that still lingered behind. I glanced over at Marie, wondering if she was going to step in and let him have it as well. Oddly she kept her distance, but I still heard her faint laugh after I dropped that last zinger on him.

I tried to lessen my severity. “Thomas, why are you here?”

I noticed that his right hand, the one still donning that stupid silver pinky ring with the tribal design on it, trembled when he finger-combed his hair back. The memory of that ring made me recall an intimate moment when I thought all my dreams had finally come true. Thomas had just made love to me. We were in his first shitty apartment, which was above a souvenir shop near the boardwalk; his roommate was out at some club so we had the apartment to ourselves. He was holding me in his arms when he slipped that silver ring off his hand and put it on my finger. A “symbol,” he had said.

Those haunting green eyes that used to make me do stupid things just to get them to look in my direction gazed up at me. “So is that a yes or a no on the beer?”

I quickly pulled myself together. “Do you think it’s a smart move, drinking while riding? I thought you got rid of the Harley.”

Thomas shook his head. Those bad-boy lips curved up a little, but not much. “Why don’t you throw in a free shot of Jack? Maybe I’ll do you a favor and wrap it around a tree when I leave.”

“Promise?”

As if he were looking for backup to fight my heartlessness, he glanced around the pub, only finding unfamiliar faces surrounding him. He let out a huff. “I see your hate for me still runs deep. You done throwing knives, because I’m just about all bled out today, sweetheart.”

What the hell did he expect? He was my first love and the man who single-handedly shattered my heart into a trillion pieces. The scars that he made would stick with me until the day I die. I tried to be cold, indifferent. “You don’t get to call me sweetheart anymore now. What do you want?”

Thomas appeared ready to say something but resigned under some invisible weight that was weighing heavy on those shoulders. “Since compassion seems to be off the menu . . . one beer. Please.”

Something was terribly wrong.

All those years of being madly in love with him crumbled my will as if it were made of tissue paper. I grabbed a mug and poured his favorite.

He slipped his fingers around the handle and took a long gulp. In two swallows, he had most of the glass emptied. “Thank you.”

I crossed my arms, waiting.

“Look, I know I’m the last person you want to see, but honestly . . . I didn’t know where else to go.”

His hands wiped down his face to reveal very watery eyes and a grim expression set on his mouth.

Some of my iciness melted away and new concern clutched my heart.

“I came here to tell you that, ah, Mel . . .”

He couldn’t finish. Tears I’d never seen him shed began to pool and it was hard for him to look at me.

“Melanie um . . .” His lips quivered and he sputtered, “died this morning.”

Utter shock clapped hard on my chest, pressing down in a painful blast, as the memories of my old high school friend and her cheerful smile and bouncy red hair flowed over me.

Melanie was the third member of Marie’s and my closely knit gang and the only one of us who managed to fully escape the boundaries of Seaport. She had joined the air force after graduation and had traveled to more countries than any of us could have ever imagined. She had settled in Germany for a few years and with time and distance it was hard to keep in touch. But it was because of our friendship that began back in seventh grade that I started my secret crush on her gorgeous older brother.

“What happened?” It was hard to form the words around the burn in my throat.

Thomas was overcome with emotion. Seeing him so distraught like this was hard to take. He was always so overprotective of his little sister, threatening all the boys who came sniffing around after her with certain death if they hurt her. Mel had a magical aura around her that was so infectious you couldn’t help but want to be in her constant company. This magic certainly did a number on a few boys and their precious egos. Back in those days, Thomas had his work cut out for him.

“She um . . .” He struggled to speak. “She got cancer. It spread all over into her lungs and shit. She asked me to um, get word to ya when she was saying goodbye to people.”

Thomas quickly sprang from his seat as the first tear escaped his faltering hold, dripping down over the curve of his cheek. He hurried for the men’s room.