Our Unscripted Story

by L. A. Fiore

  She kissed my chest then climbed from bed. I loved the sight of her moving, loved that she was slipping on my tee, didn’t like she was covering up her body because I wasn’t even close to being done with her yet. She headed for the door, but looked back at me and smiled.

  “Greyson.”

  “Yeah, beautiful.”

  “You’re not much of a ninja.”

  I jumped from bed, she ran. I was going after her when my cell rang. I almost let it go, but it was Colin.

  I answered, but called after her, “You can’t hide, Alexis.” Chuckling, I greeted Colin.

  “I’m interrupting.”

  I pulled on my jeans. “It’s good. What’s up?”

  “I have good news.”

  “Yeah? I like good news.”

  “They found the writer of those letters.”

  A chill moved through me, my legs even went a bit weak as I dropped down onto the edge of the bed. I’d forgotten about those letters, life had been so fucking sweet.

  “She lives in San Francisco, still lives with her parents. She works in the fast food industry. By all accounts she’s antisocial and a loner, but she doesn’t have the means to travel. Her parents were shocked to learn of the letters and are taking her in for evaluation.”

  “How old is she?”

  “Thirty-eight.”

  “And they didn’t notice before now that she might need help?”

  “My thoughts too. Pressure from the authorities I’m sure has helped open their eyes.”

  I hoped so, more for the woman’s sake than mine. “This is great news.” I’d forgotten about the letters and the woman, but closure was good.

  “I’ll let you get back to Alexis. Please give her my love.”

  “Will do.”

  In the kitchen, the coffee was brewing, Buggers was eating and Alexis was whipping up the batter for the pancakes. I walked up behind her and slipped my hands around her waist.

  “That was Colin.”

  “Yeah. How is he?”

  I didn’t answer she waited then looked up.

  “They found her.”

  It took her a second, but her expression said it all. Relief.

  “She lives with her parents. They’re getting her help.”

  She placed the bowl down and turned into me, linking her fingers behind my back. “I’m happy she’s getting help and thrilled not to have to worry about her.”

  I lowered my head to look her in the eyes. “Were you worried?”

  “Yeah, for you.”

  I kissed her. Words weren’t needed. I whispered against her mouth, “Pancakes.”

  “Pancakes.” She poured us each coffee, setting mine next to me before taking a seat at the counter. “You should make a ninja.”

  A smile she wouldn’t see cracked over my face. I wasn’t ever living that down.

  Alexis

  “How’s wedded bliss?” Paige asked during our weekly phone conversation. I loved the hour we gave ourselves to get caught up. It made the distance between us seem not so long.

  “Is it possible to be too happy?”

  “No.”

  “I can’t stop smiling, Paige. I feel a smile on my face during the oddest times. Walking down the aisle in the grocery store or filling Greyson’s car with gas. It’s ridiculous. It’s been two years and I still feel like a newlywed.”

  “Don’t question it, Alexis. Just enjoy the ride.”

  “Oh, and they found the woman.”

  “Letter lady?”

  “Yeah, she’s getting help.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. I’ll let Grant know. How’s work?”

  “I’m officially lead writer for Happenstance. I’ve had to give up my adventure in the city column because I just don’t have the time.”

  “You kept that column for far longer than you intended.”

  “True.”

  “I love Happenstance. More so now that you are writing for it.”

  “You’re biased.”

  “True, I’m still right. Any more thoughts on writing another play?”

  “I might, but I’m trying a screenplay first. My agent, Adele, has gotten me on a project.”

  “For a movie? I’m coming to the premiere.”

  I laughed because that was fast. “I haven’t written it yet.”

  “When you do.”

  “The whole family will have to come. Speaking of the family, how are Grant and the girls?”

  “Tara was selected for county orchestra. Mandy’s painting of a clown was selected for the annual school district art show and little Heather is reading at a high school level and she’s only in fifth grade. Grant’s amazing. He’s working on a new bike for himself. He’s never made one for himself, which is bizarre. We are financially sound, so I told him to treat himself.”

  “I can’t wait to see it. Please congratulate the girls for me. Now I want to come home so I can hear Tara play and see Mandy’s painting and have Heather read me a bedtime story.”

  “The door is always open. I’ve got to feed the family. We’ll talk soon.”

  “Please kiss everyone.”

  “Will do. You kiss that handsome husband of yours and the twins from me.”

  “That will make Dylan’s day.”

  She chuckled, “Talk soon, Alexis.”

  “Bye.”

  I smiled as I dropped the phone on the sofa next to me. I’d finished work for the day so I planned on spending the rest of the afternoon reading Greyson’s mom’s diary. Greyson was in his studio working. I loved that even when we were working we were in the same place.

  I curled up on the sofa with Cara’s diary. She had beautiful handwriting. Page after page I read snapshots in time of Greyson’s life. His mother had a sense of humor; she was also a wonderful writer. I laughed, teared up and smiled, seeing in my mind Greyson growing up through her words. There were also passages on her husband. One in particular had me turning the pages.

  Stubborn, the man is so stubborn. I want to pull my hair out. Hell, I want to pull his hair out. The Ratcliffe men, I love them but damn when they get an idea in their head. I’ve continued it too. Some poor unsuspecting woman is going to have to deal with that impossible stubbornness. I’m sorry, whoever you are. Ratcliffe men are fiercely loyal, protective, loving, but when they get a bug up their ass they do not yield. Nothing will sway them. They will follow through, even when it makes no logical sense. It is so damn frustrating. The good news, they eventually realize their error, but until they do you have to be prepared to ride out the storm. I apologize now for the hunks of missing hair and dangerously high blood pressure you will no doubt experience with my son. But then you’ve got my son so…you’re welcome.

  Greyson dropped down onto the sofa next to me. I hadn’t experienced that stubbornness. Not really. It must have skipped a generation.

  “She’s a wonderful writer.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I was just reading about the stubbornness of the Ratcliffe men. Your mom even gave a warning to your future wife.”

  “She did not.”

  I handed him the diary. “I haven’t experienced that stubbornness with you, but I’m glad I’ve been given the heads up.”

  He looked adorably offended. “I am the definition of accommodating.”

  “Really?”

  He placed the diary on the table, leaned back and pulled his hands behind his head. “I go with the flow.”

  “So if I said get naked.”

  He yanked off his shirt.

  I grew warm in the most delicious way. “That’s not a true test. You want to get naked.”

  He grinned.

  “Sing to me.”

  “No.”

  “Dance, shake that booty just for me.”

  “Hell, no.”

  “She was right. Stubborn.”

  “Because I won’t sing or dance?”

  “Yes. I’d sing for you.”

  I opened my mouth to do just that and he closed his h
and over my face.

  “I’d rather you didn’t.”

  Yanking his arm away, I glared. “Why not?”

  “I don’t know how to tell you this, but…”

  My eyes narrowed.

  “When you sing it sounds like an animal dying.”

  My jaw dropped.

  He laughed. He actually laughed at me. “And dancing…have you ever seen a plastic bag stuck on a branch of a tree when it’s windy and it’s flapping this way and that?”

  Where was he going with this? “Yes.”

  “Those plastic bags have better control over themselves than you do when you dance.”

  I wanted to laugh; my chest was shaking from it. I managed a glare instead before I stood with as much dignity as I could muster after that insight.

  “Since my form is so repugnant to you, you may have the sofa tonight.”

  I got about two feet before I was over his shoulder. He took the stairs two at a time.

  “That’s a hell fucking no.”

  “And you call yourself accommodating.”

  He ran his hand up my leg to my ass and squeezed. “I’ll show you how accommodating I am.”

  Lust made my next words a little breathy. “I’ll need several examples.”

  He dropped me on the bed and grinned. “My pleasure. See…accommodating.”

  Alexis 2010

  Greyson and I escaped the heat of the city with a long weekend on the Jersey shore. It was different from the beaches at home, more congested and there were the casinos as backdrop. I loved it. We spent our days swimming and sunbathing and the nights eating, drinking and making love. Best vacation ever.

  Greyson was swimming now, had gone past the waves and every once in a while I saw him cutting the water, a strong front stroke that would make our gym teacher proud. Remembering that day in the pool, the first time I saw him in board shorts. That was a really great memory.

  I’d gotten us hot dogs, but I couldn’t wait to eat mine. There was something about a hot dog on the beach that was just so freaking good. Greyson appeared, walking from the water, and I almost choked because my husband was hot. Those muscles he had at eighteen were bigger and more defined. He moved with that unhurried grace he had, his long hair pulled back from his face. As long as we’d been together and still I got those butterflies.

  I wasn’t the only one checking him out, but I was the only one he was checking out. He dropped down next to me, water from his body dripped on me. For a second, I almost forgot we were on the beach because I had ideas about touching that body, first with my hands then with my tongue.

  “Stop looking at me like that or this is going to get really interesting.”

  I stuck my tongue out because honestly none of my thoughts were private.

  I handed him a dog, he ate half of it in one mouthful.

  “Do you remember that day in the pool?”

  His eyes grew warm. “You saved my life. I never did thank you properly.”

  “It’s been almost fourteen years since I first saw you on my jetty.”

  “Your jetty?” he teased.

  “My jetty.”

  “Best fucking day of my life,” he said with sincerity, then he teased, “Whatever happened to your bike?”

  “Paige has it.” I really was going to give it to him, a homecoming gift when we moved back to Mendocino.

  “That thing was fucking ugly.”

  “It is, present tense, not ugly. It is just old.”

  “No, it is ugly.”

  “I loved that bike.” I glanced at him and he looked bewildered. I added, “That bike brought me to you.”

  I couldn’t read his expression, but he then said, “I fucking love that bike.”

  I had just lathered up and intended to soak up some rays. Greyson had other plans. My breath was knocked from me when he swept me up and over his shoulder. “What are you doing?”

  “I have a damsel to rescue.”

  I couldn’t help the laugh, because playful Greyson was charming. He didn’t put me down until a wave came then he took us both under. He never let me go, pulled me up against him. I didn’t know how long we played in the water like kids. At one point, he pressed me close and kissed me, a kiss that was both passionate and sweet. He let his lips linger when he whispered, “Here’s to another seventy years as fucking amazing as the last fourteen.

  It was me who kissed him until we were knocked over by a wave, but even as we tossed and turned, he never let go of my hand.

  Quarter slots, I was rocking at them, up by a hundred dollars. I looked around; some people were using two or three machines, dropping the coins in, pressing the buttons. Most had a cigarette in one hand and a glass of something in the other. These were the diehards. Was it the quest for money, or the familiarity of the routine, I didn’t know. It was fascinating. An idea for a book started to form, I pulled out the pad and pen I always carried around and wrote it down.

  We’d been to dinner. Greyson had learned not to ask the concierge for the best places to eat, but the housekeeper or the bellhop. They always knew about the gems and dinner was no exception. The little Greek place we’d dined at was amazing. I didn’t get out a lot, I liked being home, but I had fun dressing up for the evening. Greyson looking dapper in a black suit with a pale green shirt, and me, I was a firm believer in the little black dress, so versatile from simple and elegant to sexy when embellished with shoes, hair and jewelry. I was going simple tonight. My hair down and my only jewelry were my wedding and engagement rings that I never took off.

  Greyson had left to get us drinks. Not the cheap stuff they gave for free, the good stuff. If my liver was taking a hit, it would do so with quality. He’d been gone a while though, almost a half an hour. The place was crowded but not that crowded. I hesitated leaving my spot. We could spend hours looking for one another because I still didn’t have a cell phone. I knew they were all the rage. Everyone who was anyone had one. Not me. I didn’t care for talking on the phone, so why would I carry one around with me so I never had an excuse not to answer it. No thanks.

  I dropped a few more quarters in the machine, but I was just losing the nice little stash I’d made so I called it quits and waited near the closest pillar for Greyson. About ten minutes later I saw him moving through the crowd. He was easy to spot because he was taller than most people. I noticed two things, he looked irritated and he didn’t have drinks. He reached me, caught my hand and kept on moving.

  “Do you have to cash out?”

  “Yes.”

  We detoured to one of the cashiers and while I collected my winnings, he looked around but not out of curiosity, more like a lookout. As soon as I put my money away, he took my hand again and beelined for the door leading out to the boardwalk.

  “Do you want to tell me what’s going on or should I guess?”

  It was like walking into a wall of heat when we stepped outside, even with the sun down. I reached into my purse for an elastic and tied my hair back or I’d be a puddle. Like I so eloquently told Greyson once, I sweat I did not perspire.

  “I was detained.”

  “Like by a cop?”

  Greyson’s expression was comical.

  “You were arrested for looking too good. Right? Am I right?”

  He tried not to smile but his lips moved anyway.

  “Two women wanted an autograph, then a photograph. When they offered a home cooked meal I bailed.”

  “Those bastards.” I threw my arms in the air in feigned outrage. “They offered to feed you a home cooked meal. Son of a bitch.” I looked around the boardwalk. “Where are the cops? They need to be arrested.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re making fun of me.”

  I was going for innocent, but I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. “Me? No.” I got it, some of the attention was irritating and some was disturbing, but this was just women taking advantage of an opportunity. If I saw Brad Pitt, I’d be asking for a photograph. Hell, I’d offer h
im dinner too.

  “When you’re on the other side of it we’ll see if you find it so funny.”

  “That’s not going to happen. I’m a hermit; people have no idea who I am except for your wife. I like it that way. Besides, one celebrity in the house is enough.”

  Greyson wasn’t hunted down, he wasn’t Hollywood star famous, but he still showed up on magazine covers occasionally. Sometimes I was even in those pictures with him. But there was a time when his face had been everywhere including on the side of buses. He was to the art world what Mikhail Baryshnikov was to ballet. It wasn’t a bad thing, but when you couldn’t order a drink for your wife and yourself, I could see that being irritating.

  “Those pictures will no doubt show up on the website,” he was muttering to himself.

  What website? “What now?”

  He actually blushed. It was the first time I’d ever seen Greyson blush. “There’s a website?”

  He had his own website for his work, but I was pretty sure he wasn’t talking about that. “You have a fan website? You’ve really arrived.”

  It was the best ‘duh’ face I’d ever seen. “There’s a website dedicated to a cat who can play the piano. It’s not a big accomplishment.”

  I loved that cat.

  “So there’s a website where fans post pictures of you. Is that a bad thing?”

  “When you have a woman like the one who wrote those letters, having a place you can track where I am. Yeah, it can be a bad thing.”

  I felt the blood drain from my face. He saw it too, he closed the distance and yanked me into his arms.

  “I didn’t think of that,” I confessed.

  “That’s all I thought about.”

  I should have known there was more to his irritation. It wasn’t like Greyson to be melodramatic.

  He kissed my head. “Sorry for acting like an ass.”

  “Temperamental artist. Comes with the territory.”

  He chuckled, “I owe you a drink.”

  I looked up into those green eyes. “Let’s have it back at the room.”

  He kissed me long and hard. “My thoughts exactly.”

  Alexis

  Summer flew by and fall was approaching. We were at UCLA, dropping Tara off for her freshmen year. Tara, little Tara, was in college. I was trying not to cry, but I couldn’t stop the tears from rolling down my cheeks. Greyson’s arm was wrapped around me offering strength as well as taking some. Paige and Grant were all smiles, but I knew the tears were threatening. The twins were returning the grocery carts the kids were using to get their stuff inside.