Our Unscripted Story

by L. A. Fiore

  He dismissed me and turned to Colin, my agent. “You were right to bring him to me. We have work, but he has it.”

  The man was a genius when it came to art, social skills on the other hand.

  “Let’s work on negative space,” he announced and pulled a blank canvas from the pile stacked against the wall.

  “We’re up at five tomorrow morning. Our flight to London is at nine. After London, we have Paris and I’ve just confirmed a show in Amsterdam. I know you’re exhausted, but we need the exposure.”

  I could seriously sleep for a month.

  He grinned; the man read my thoughts as easily as I could read Alexis’. “I told you going in, the first five years were going to be nonstop. There’s no time for anything but learning, promoting and working. You put the time in now, once you’re established you’ll be able to set your own schedule. Get some sleep.” Looks were deceiving when it came to my grandfather’s friend. The man never slowed down. He was determined to make me a household name, I appreciated all of his efforts, but damn there was only one speed and that was fast.

  “I’m already packed.” I had never unpacked.

  “See you in the morning.”

  “Night.”

  The door closed behind him. Pulling a hand through my hair, fuck I was tired. When I wasn’t with Rainier, I was doing interviews or working on my art. I’d started dabbling in clay, loved the process of sculpting. My days were scheduled, right down to eating and sleeping. I kept my eyes on the prize, was grateful I had people helping me, but it was exhausting.

  I should go to sleep. Morning would be here in only a few short hours, but I had something more important to do. I pulled the painting from my leather portfolio. So many memories flooded my mind; it was just a year in my life, and yet that one year changed me. I missed her so fucking much. We tried to keep in touch, but with my crazy ass schedule and hers, it wasn’t easy. I thought about her all the time. Every new experience was one I wanted to share with her. Maybe what we had was just young love and in time it would fade to a really great memory, but it had been a year since I left and I was still just as captivated by her as I’d been that first day on the beach. I loved her even then. Wherever our lives led us, I vowed to find her, to give us a chance to pick up where we left off. In the meantime, my memories would keep me going.

  I added my signature then pulled out a piece of paper. I’d have the concierge mail it tomorrow. It should arrive in time.

  Alexis

  Paige and Grant threw a graduation party for me. I couldn’t believe I was leaving for New York in a few days. I was both terrified and excited. The twins drove me home. We were spending the night in our tree house. Hurrying up the drive, I saw the package. My hands were shaking when I brought it inside and unwrapped it, tears followed. It was my jetty, so beautifully captured, as if he’d read my mind and captured the image I had there. I smiled to myself. He’d always been able to read me so well. I brushed my fingers over his signature. There was a note.

  Congratulations, Alexis. Good luck in New York City. Here’s a little piece of home to take with you. I miss you. Love, Greyson

  My tears dripped onto his note, the words whispered softly but felt so deeply. “I love you.” One day we’d find a way back to each other.

  Part Two

  Love, to be real, must cost, it must hurt, it must empty us of self.

  – Mother Teresa

  Alexis 2000

  “Alexis!” Mrs. Cantenelli screamed and pulled me in for a hug. Her familiar scent brought back so many happy memories. “It’s so good to see you.” She stepped back, eyeing me. “New York definitely agrees with you.”

  I was home for a few weeks before I headed back to New York for my junior year at NYU. I loved New York City, the sights and sounds of the city and how there was always something going on. I had been apprehensive leaving home and going so far away, but I was so happy I took the chance.

  “I heard you and Mr. Cantenelli visited Paris.”

  “Oh, Alexis, it was magical. We’re going back. In fact, I don’t know if the boys told you but we’ve decided to move there.”

  No, they hadn’t told me that.

  She laughed. “Based on your expression, you haven’t heard. The boys are happy in Berkeley, rarely coming home, you’re in New York and Mr. Cantenelli and I are both retired. We’ve always wanted to see Paris and now we have a chance to live there.”

  I loved that I was a part of their consideration. “It sounds like a dream come true.”

  “It really is. And who knows, maybe in two years we’ll be ready to come home.”

  We shared a look and said at the same time, “Not likely.”

  She touched my shoulder, leading me into the kitchen. I remembered the little girl I had been and how it had felt the first time she had done that, welcomed me into their hearts and home.

  “I love you, Mrs. Cantenelli.”

  She missed a step and her eyes grew bright. “I love you, Alexis.”

  I settled at the counter like I had done countless times as a kid. She walked to the refrigerator to get us a drink. The front door slammed open.

  “Is she here?” Dylan called.

  I jumped from the stool. They saw me when I saw them. We plowed into each other, limbs were everywhere, too many for only three people. I had always thought of them as siblings and they were. These two knuckleheads were my brothers and I had missed them.

  “It’s been too fucking long,” Dylan said.

  “Language!” Mrs. Cantenelli called from the kitchen.

  “You look good, Alexis. Hot.” Dominic hadn’t changed.

  “You’re an idiot.” Dylan said what I was thinking.

  “How’s Berkeley?”

  “Awesome. We’re like the kings of the school. We’re beating the girls away.” Dominic was a goof, but I bet they were.

  “And NYU?” Dylan asked.

  “I’m working on a play.”

  “Nice.”

  Mrs. Cantenelli put iced tea and cookies out for us. We were older, but something so familiar felt good. It felt like home.

  “Are you going to see Paige?”

  The look of love on Dylan’s face was pitiful. “You’re still smitten?”

  “With Paige, oh hell yeah.”

  “She is very happily married.”

  “I know,” he said through clenched teeth. Poor Dylan. Unrequited love sucked.

  “She asked that I invite you two clowns to dinner.”

  “What are we waiting for?” Dylan was halfway to the door.

  “Thanks for the snack, Mrs. Cantenelli.”

  “Anytime. Come to dinner tomorrow night.”

  “I will, thank you.”

  “Alexis, get the lead out,” they both called from the door.

  It was nice that even older, the twins were still the adorable dopes I loved.

  “It’s because he’s family that I’m not ripping his arm from its socket,” Grant announced as we sat on the deck watching Paige, the girls and the twins playing volleyball in the yard. There was a new cherub, Heather. She had just turned one and was the spitting image of her mom.

  “He can’t help himself. He’s in love. Poor guy.” Dylan kept touching Paige, in encouragement, or when she fell he was there to help her up. It was harmless, but clear he still had his crush.

  Grant glanced over at me; humor and irritation twisted his features. “Yeah, poor guy,” he offered sarcastically, then asked, “You ready to head back to school?”

  “Yes, but I have missed home.”

  “You’re missed.”

  For years, I had thought my life wasn’t the one I was supposed to have, not without my parents. But had I not lived this life, I never would have met Grant and Paige, the Cantenellis, Dee and Mel. Greyson. Things happened for a reason.

  “Have you given thought to when you graduate?”

  “I’m staying in New York, at least for a little while. I want to write and there are so many playhouses, agenc
ies, papers and opportunities I would be foolish to not take advantage.”

  “I would have persuaded you to do that, had you been thinking about coming home.”

  “This is home. I will be coming back.”

  “And until then there’s email and those mobile phones. Technology is making the world smaller.”

  He was right about that.

  He glanced out at the others then stood and offered his hand. “Shall we show them how it’s done?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Paige and I were outside. The girls were in bed and Grant and the twins were watching a movie. I missed this.

  “Do you want to talk about Greyson?”

  My body still reacted to his name as my heart did a long slow roll in my chest. There wasn’t much to say. We had lost touch after I moved to New York between my classes and work and his schedule. I thought about him often though. He claimed a piece of my heart that would always belong to him.

  “You haven’t spoken to him.”

  “No. He’s a rising star.”

  “I’ve got to tell you it’s weird seeing his mug staring back at me from the magazines at the checkout counter.”

  The first time I saw Greyson on the cover of a magazine, I’d been hurrying to class. I didn’t make that class. I bought up every copy from the newsstand, went back to my room and stared at his image for the longest time, marveling how his face had matured in the few years since I’d last seen him. I read the article so many times I had it memorized. It was the magazines that came later that I didn’t much care for—the tabloids with Greyson and some beautiful woman on his arm, never the same woman. He was among the beautiful people now. He certainly belonged there, but it was hard seeing him living a life I had no part in. It was only a year, not even, but he forever changed me.

  “Of course the nonsense with that fan, that was scary.”

  “Terrifying is a better word. The ugly side to stardom.” I still got a chill thinking about the incident that had made the World News several months back. Greyson had returned from a show to find a woman in his room. I had thought Stephanie from high school had been a bit stalkerish, but I was wrong. This woman had been the real-life Annie from Misery. She was convinced she and Greyson were soul mates. She refused to leave when asked, even when hotel security got involved. The police had to come. It turned out she had bribed a hotel employee to let her in. His agent filed charges, as he should have. It wasn’t just trespassing; it was deeply disturbing that Greyson was the outlet for the woman’s crazy. I didn’t want to think about the ugly, so I moved the conversation on.

  “I miss him, Paige. I don’t regret the time I spent with him, I’d do it again even knowing how it would end, but there’s this hole in me that I can’t seem to fill.”

  “You’re young, Alexis. There’s still time for you and Greyson to find each other again or for you to find someone else.”

  Greyson and I weren’t the same people and we definitely did not move in the same social circles. It seemed unlikely we would cross paths. I didn’t forget the promise I’d made, but that promise wasn’t as easy to keep as I had once thought. And finding someone new, there had been no one significant since him. I was busy with school, but in truth no one I’d met after him came close to making me feel what he did. I wasn’t interested in second best, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t looking.

  I changed the subject. “I’m going to hire an investigator to find my parents.”

  Paige turned in her chair. “You are?”

  “I need to know. I’ve been saving money and with not having to pay tuition…” I glared at her. I got a full ride to NYU. I didn’t know how that happened, was convinced Paige and Grant or Dee and Mel or the Cantenellis were behind it. They all denied it emphatically. “I have a nice sum put away.”

  “We weren’t behind your tuition, Alexis. As much as I wish we were, Grant and I can’t afford it. I am glad you’re looking for your parents. If nothing else comes out of it, maybe you’ll find closure.”

  I rested my head on the seat back and looked up at the sky. The stars were out tonight. My fairy godmother had been oddly quiet for the last few years. One particular star twinkled down at us. I wished on that star, the same wish I made every time I took a moment to look up at them. Maybe one day it would come true.

  Three months later

  I stopped at the market after class because my pantry was bare, my fridge too. Moving up and down the aisle, I dropped stuff in my cart. I finally tried my hand at cooking and I wasn’t much of a cook, but I was able to boil pasta, grill up some chicken breasts and scramble a few eggs. I was also slightly addicted to Toaster Strudels. Unlike their competitors, I couldn’t get enough of them. Every time I made one, I thought of Greyson.

  I got in line and saw him. It was just a tabloid and still my heart fluttered. He had some leggy blonde draped around him, but I couldn’t get past his image because he’d cut his hair. His once long locks were cut close to his head, the top longer, spiky yet wispy. Gone were the baggy clothes. He was in a tailored suit. He looked amazing, elegant, but he didn’t look like my Greyson. I had it bad when I hurt thinking about those mahogany strands left abandoned on the salon floor, swept up and tossed in the trash.

  I bought a copy; okay I bought six copies. Back at my off-campus studio apartment—it was really just a hovel, but it was my hovel—I locked up, put the groceries away and turned on The Cure. I needed a little Rob. I toasted up two strudels, made a pot of tea and curled up on my futon with the magazine.

  “She’s not even pretty. Her lips are too full and her eyes. Who has lavender eyes? And her legs look like stilts.” I stuffed half of the Toaster Strudel in my mouth. Who was I kidding? She was exquisite. It was Greyson’s expression that had me wanting to eat the whole box of strudels. I knew that look, the slight grin and the warm twinkle in his eyes. Whoever she was to him, he knew her and liked her. She wasn’t just arm candy.

  I was glad he’d changed his look. It made it easier to see him with these women because the sophisticated man staring back at me wasn’t the Greyson of my youth. He had been a caterpillar in Mendocino who had morphed into a butterfly—beautiful, polished and refined, but I missed the caterpillar. I loved the caterpillar. My eyes drifted to his painting and immediately I was transported back to sixteen, standing on the pier, clutching my bike, staring at the boy who I knew, even then, was going to forever change me. We’d always have that, our beautiful moment that had been far too fleeting.

  One year later

  It was hard to believe I was midway through my senior year. Finals were in a few weeks and then I was flying home for Christmas. I couldn’t wait to see Paige and family. The twins would be home too, on winter break from Berkley. I hadn’t seen them since the summer before junior year. I missed them, though we did talk all the time. Email was a wonderful invention.

  I’d started a weekly column, my adventures in the city. It was only published in the school’s paper, but it was a fun project and with technology, people could post comments on the articles. Sure there were assholes, haters were going to hate, but the majority of comments were sharing with me other places and scenes I had to check out. In addition to the column, I was working on another play for one of my classes—I really liked the format of plays and how it wasn’t just dialogue but stage direction and scene setup. There was also the novel I started freshman year, one about Greyson and me. Our story was too beautiful not to write down.

  I checked the posts for my latest article. There was a German festival happening over the weekend. That sounded like fun. It was while I scrolled through the other suggestions that a name caught my attention. It had been four and a half years and still my blood rushed through my veins.

  Greyson Ratcliffe.

  He was in town, had a show in a gallery off Fifth Avenue. I purposely didn’t follow his career, unless it was blatantly staring at me from a magazine. Especially with the Internet on the rise, one could get preoccupied. He had moved on, found
love again, if the tabloids were to be believed, but we were both in the same city. My promise had become a weight on my shoulders, nagging me to follow through. If I ever planned on keeping it, now was the time. It was a long shot, those events were usually by invitation only, but I’d call the gallery and see what I could do.

  “Heather, stop climbing your sister’s leg. She’s not a tree,” Paige hollered.

  I held the phone from my ear. “A warning would be nice.”

  “Sorry. Heather’s taken to climbing things.”

  I could see her doing that too. Tara and Mandy were little ladies; Heather was a hellion. I adored her.

  “Grant encourages her.” She was feigning annoyance, but all I heard was love.

  “How is Grant?”

  “Wonderful.” Her voice went soft like it had a habit of doing when thinking of her husband. “He misses you. We were cleaning out the garage and we found a box of your short stories. We spent the night reading them. He cried.”

  I missed them too, sometimes so much I wanted to pack it up and come home. Those bouts of homesickness didn’t last long even with how frequently I had them.

  “Did you ever hire that investigator?” Paige asked.

  “No. I got sidetracked. I’ve an appointment with one after the holidays.”

  “Good. You need to do this, Alexis.”

  “I know. I want to. Guess who’s in town?”

  Dead silence followed my announcement.

  “Paige?”

  “Have you seen him?”

  “No, but I’m going to his show.”

  “Does he know?”

  A few days after inquiring about the show, an invitation appeared in my mailbox. I was certain I was sent one because I’d be representing the university. It was highly unlikely Greyson even knew I was coming. “I don’t think so. I reached out to the gallery, said I was writing a story for my university’s paper.”