“Cage? Is that his real name?”
Boone smiled. “No. He’s a fighter. That’s his stage name, but he’s pretty much become Cage to everyone. His real name is Carl, and if you’re wondering about my name, it’s always been Boone. We call our youngest brother, Lucas, Lucky. He’s eighteen and has the best luck of anyone I’ve ever known. When he was a kid, he’d lose his homework and someone would find it and turn it in. He’s that kind of lucky. Always just barely on the right side of the law. I’m forever trying to get him to straighten up. He’s wicked smart, but he’s eighteen.” He shrugged like he totally got his teenage brother, and the love in his expression was palpable.
“We also have a sister, Maggie. She’s older than Lucky, younger than Cage. She’s a caterer, and my mom works with her part-time. And since I know you always want more, I’ll give up my last name so you don’t have to ask.” He smiled and she laughed. “Our last name is Rekyrts. Turn it around and you get Stryker.”
“That’s clever.”
“Yeah, we got some of my brother’s luck with that one.”
“Do you mind if I ask how you got your start? The articles I’ve read said you were discovered on YouTube, but the only videos I can find of you performing are after Harvey Bauer started repping you.”
He turned and leaned his back against the railing, like he was settling in for a long story. “You can ask me anything.”
He reached for her hand, and she realized how calm he seemed. He’d been vibrating with tension since the day they’d met, and now he seemed much more content.
“My mom worked as a janitor at the Epson School of the Arts, and when we were little she didn’t want to leave us, so she took us with her. We spent hours in that old brick building. I can still remember her wearing one of those baby carriers with Lucky on her chest while she cleaned.”
“How did she get anything done with four kids running around?”
His lips quirked up. “When we got to be too much, she’d say, ‘Maybe I should leave you guys with Mrs. Carther.’ Mrs. Carther was about eighty years old with whiskers coming out of her chin and a big hump on her back. Poor thing. She wasn’t actually all that bad, but she got a bad rap because she’d come out on her porch and wave a broom around, yelling at the kids who trampled through her yard. That threat was enough for us to fall back into line.”
“I think I like your mother already.”
“You can’t help but like her. She’s amazing. She’s smart and funny, and Lord knows how she put up with us and remained sane, but she’s supported our endeavors and given us hell when we needed it. She never finished high school, because she had me, but she’s never held that over my head.”
“She’s your mother. She shouldn’t hold it over your head.”
He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it, nodding in agreement. “When you’ve seen the things I have, you realize that what should or shouldn’t happen doesn’t always matter.”
“I’m sorry about your dad, and about your friends and how hard they had it.”
“Anyway,” he said, clearly wanting to change the subject. “Cage, Mags, and I hung around the school so much, we got to know the teachers and students, and over the years they showed us a few things. I fell in love with the sounds of guitars: acoustic, electric, twelve-string, six-string, steel, bass. I loved them all. Still do. I had an ear for music, and I learned to listen to songs and emulate them without reading music. One day there was a guy sitting outside playing guitar and we started talking. His name was Charley Evers. He manages Bailey Bray’s band now, but back then he was just this cool guy helping a kid discover music.”
“I know Bailey. Her sister Leanna lives on Cape Cod. She’s friends with my brother Blue.”
“How can you raise questions about Cage’s name when your brother’s name is Blue?”
“Stop changing the subject,” she teased. “Tell me more. We can talk about my brothers later.”
He whispered, “Pushy,” then leaned in for a quick kiss. “Over the course of a few weeks he taught me to read music and play the guitar. He and his buddies made a video and put it up on YouTube. Lucky for me, they sucked at editing, and the first few minutes was them talking about the song they were going to play and me standing in the background playing a song I’d made up. I had no idea I was even on the video until Harvey Bauer sought me out.”
“That’s crazy. Your life really does mirror Rick Champion’s.”
He shook his head. “That part of my life might, getting discovered on YouTube, but the rest doesn’t. Although Destiny was never my girlfriend, Rick’s strung-out girlfriend gets clean at the end of the movie. He works hard to get out of the area he grew up and never looks back. I’m making the movie to show the struggle, but I’ve never wanted to get away from the place where I grew up.”
“Because your mom is still there?” she asked.
“Partly. But it’s more than that. I have difficult memories, but they’re my memories. Who I am is the guy from the Bronx, not the rock star. Being a rock star is my job, like Cage is a fighter and Mags is a caterer and you’re an actress. There’s a lot of bad stuff that went on, as I’ve told you, but all the things that come with fame? The money, the parties, the groupies? They don’t come close to the value of lifelong friends or the lessons I learned growing up in those conditions. If I lost all my fame tomorrow, I’d be okay. I had my run.”
“You wouldn’t miss it?”
“Sure. I’d miss the rush of being onstage, but the other reason I took the role was to challenge myself. To see what else I could do. I’ve had a hell of a time coming up with songs lately.” He leaned forward and slid his hand to the back of her neck. “I’m so glad I sucked at it.”
“Mm.” Feeling their bond strengthen with every word, she pressed her lips to his. “Know what I think?”
“That we should rehearse more kissing and fewer lines?”
“That and...” She kissed him again. “I think that while the physical worlds we come from may differ, the things that matter most—morals and values, family, friends—aren’t so different after all.”
**
LATER THAT EVENING, after several frustrating attempts at rehearsing the dreaded warehouse scene, they gave up and had dinner—salad for Trish, steak for Boone.
“Tell me what I can do to help you get through this.” Trish sat on the porch petting the kitten, who was curled up in her lap. She’d been relentless in her pursuit of him taking one last stab at the scene for the day, and he’d reluctantly given in.
“If I knew, I’d tell you.” He paced, feeling his chest constrict before they even began.
“Yesterday you said when you see me lying there, I become Destiny, and that’s when you detach from the character.”
He stopped pacing and crouched beside her. “I’m sorry. I know this makes it harder, and I hope that wasn’t a callous thing to say.”
She smiled up at him. “Callous? Not at all. It was real, and real is good. Real is what we want.”
“The things you make me feel are about as real as it gets.” He petted the kitten. “I think I’ve come up with a name for him.”
“I see the Great Deflector is back.” Trish put her hand over his. “But he does need a name.”
“Sparky.”
“Sparky? It’s cute.” She smiled “Why Sparky?”
“Because every time you’re near me, sparks fly. And we found him on the way here, the place where we’ve come together.”
“I love that.” She leaned forward and kissed him. “I think you have a bit of a romantic heart behind all those walls.”
He took that compliment to heart. His father had been a true romantic, and to Boone, being like his father was the biggest compliment of all. “Maybe so, but only you could push your way in to find out.”
“Lucky me!” Her tone softened. “If you’re up to it, I have an idea that might work for the scene. It’s something one of my acting coaches taught me, but it’ll be hard, and if you�
��d rather not try it, I understand.”
“Let me hear it. I want to get past this.”
She picked up the kitten and set him inside the kitchen door. “I think it might help if we pretend I’m Destiny and try to work through the emotions you’re feeling.”
He shot to his feet and paced. His gut reaction was to tell her absolutely not. No way. Just the thought of purposely going through that scene and imagining Destiny made him nauseous.
“I know it sounds crazy,” Trish said empathetically. “But if you think about it, it makes sense to work through your real feelings to clear the way to acting.”
They stood at opposite ends of the porch, like they were getting ready to duel, only they were on the same team. Compassion emanated from her so strongly, that as she closed the distance between them he could feel it wrapping around him like an embrace.
“I want to try it for you,” he admitted. “But I honestly don’t know if I’m capable of that.”
She reached for his hand. “How about if you don’t do it for me or even for the movie, but you do it for you? Because this movie will go on, or it won’t. And I told you Ryders don’t run from the hard things in life, so if you can’t deal with it now, I’m still not going anywhere. I’ll be here to help you, if you want my help, when you’re ready.”
He took her in his arms and touched his forehead to hers. “How did I get so lucky to suck at acting and be sent to this Podunk town with you?”
She went up on her toes and kissed him. He loved that for all his standoffishness, she was open with her affection. Every touch, every kiss, every tender gaze from her beautiful eyes made it easier for him to try to step outside his walls—and even easier to create a crack to let her in.
“I think it was all part of your evil plan to get into my pants.”
“Unfortunately, I’m not that manipulative.” He realized he’d been so distracted with rehearsing and their new relationship, he still hadn’t told her about Jude. Chasing the realization, his protective urges surged, only this time they were aimed at protecting Jude, not Trish. But as she suggested trying to work through the scene without her lying down, guilt began gnawing away at him. He had never been a good liar, and any way he looked at it, when it came to talking with someone he cared about, a lie of omission was still a lie.
“Trish,” he interrupted. “I need to tell you something else that probably plays into my reluctance to deal with the scene, even if I don’t want to believe it does.”
With serious intent, she turned his hands over and inspected the crook of his arms.
“I’m not a user.”
She grinned up at him, and he knew she was teasing. “I can handle anything else, so go ahead. Get it all out in the open.”
They sat on the steps again.
“I feel like our whole relationship is unfolding on these rickety old steps.”
She leaned in to his shoulder. “Funny. They don’t feel rickety or old to me. They feel romantic and private.”
He draped an arm over her shoulder. “That’s because you have a unique way of seeing things.” Like the way you see all of me, not just what I want everyone else to see.
“I was brought up not to judge anything by what it looks like. Houses, books, people.” She traced a tattoo down his forearm and turned her alluring eyes toward him. “Sometimes we have to look beyond the camouflage to get to the heart of things.”
Boy, if that isn’t the truth. He told her about Jude, how he’d already been in rehab twice and that they were trying to track him down to get him into rehab again.
“He was spotted in our old neighborhood. But no one’s been able to find him since.”
“I assume he’s on that long list of people relying on you? The one you said I’m at the top of?”
He nodded. “Along with my family, bandmates, Harvey and his wife, and a handful of friends I grew up with. That day you got pissed when I showed up late to the set?”
“Yes.”
“I was on the phone with Jude. I almost had him convinced to go, but right before we hung up, he backed out.”
She laced their fingers together. “I’m not sure if I should yell at you or hug you.”
“Why do I deserve either? I mean, I’ll take the hug, but…”
“Boone, this is the second time that I know of that you took the heat to protect someone else, and you let everyone think you were unreliable. First when you missed the preproduction meeting and your mom was in the hospital, and then showing up late on set.”
“So?”
Her expression softened. “And you take it all in stride.”
“They’re family,” he said vehemently.
“I know. I get it. I meant it with awe, not exasperation.”
He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
“You do have a lot of people counting on you,” she said sweetly. “So for now, I want you to put me down a notch on that list of yours. At least below Jude.”
When he opened his mouth to respond, she silenced him with a kiss.
“Don’t even try to argue with me. Some people need more worry than others. We could go look for him if you want. Right now, we can drive to your old neighborhood, ask around.”
His throat thickened with emotion at her generosity and understanding. “Trish.” He framed her face with his hands and kissed her. “How many women would offer to drive for hours and spend the night searching the bad parts of town for a drug addict?”
She shrugged. “He’s important to you.”
“Baby,” he whispered. “Do you have any idea how special you are?”
“I’m not special. I care about you, and when you care about someone, what they want or need or care about becomes important to you.”
“Thank you. You can’t imagine how much it means to me to hear you say that and that you’re willing to put our work aside to help Jude, but I’ve got people looking for him. And I don’t want to let you down either. At some point they’ll track him down and I’ll need to take off, but until then, let’s try to work through this project.”
“Okay, but just so you know, you’re on my list now, too.”
“What does that mean?” He couldn’t suppress his smile. “I’ve never been on someone else’s list before.”
“It means that now you have someone looking after you, too.” She squeezed his hand, and he wondered if she could see how deeply she’d touched him. “And don’t fool yourself into thinking you’re not on anyone else’s list. I’d imagine all those people on your list have you on their lists, too. But you’re the protector, so you’re very low-maintenance.”
“Low-maintenance? That’s one thing I’ve never been called.” He pulled her into his lap. “Now you know all my dirty secrets and you’re still here. I guess that means I owe it to you to try to deal with the warehouse scene.”
“You don’t owe me anything, but I think you owe it to yourself.”
Chapter Thirteen
TRISH WASN’T SURE if she was doing the right thing or not by pushing Boone to deal with what he felt when they tried to get through the warehouse scene, but she hoped this exercise might work. They stayed out on the porch even though the sun had set, because he was far more comfortable outside, and she wanted him to be as comfortable as possible. Especially since neither one of them knew what to expect. She lay down on the porch, listening to the sound of him pacing. He made it halfway across the porch to where she lay, then turned back several times.
Trish sat up and pulled her knees to her chest, watching him move like a caged lion. His shoulders rode just below his ears, his fingers flexed repeatedly, and his eyes were downcast and brooding.
“Hey,” she said softly, and patted the space beside her.
The fact that he didn’t step off the porch and head to the field did not go unnoticed. He actually managed a smile as he sank down to the porch beside her.
“Why don’t we just talk about it?” Trish suggested. “That might be better.”
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He nodded and reached for her hand. She wondered if he was going to be able to share anything at all, or if this was going to prove to be too difficult.
“What do you feel right now?”
“Feel?” He shook his head. “I don’t know how to describe it. It’s not anger, but I feel like a monster is clawing its way out of my chest.”
“Okay.” That’s not good. Or maybe it was. “What if we coax him out?”
He arched a brow, like that was a crazy idea.
“I know it sounds like we’re inviting trouble, but I think we’re inviting trouble by not getting it out in the open.”
“But how can I let out what I’m not sure of? I wasn’t there when she overdosed, and it’s not like it was my fault, or anyone else’s. Except maybe her parents’.” His eyes filled with anger.
“Maybe that’s it,” Trish said urgently. “Could it be that your feelings have more to do with her parents? Not to diminish the pain of losing your friend. I’m sure that’s overwhelming. But something flashed in your eyes when you mentioned her parents.”
“Because I’d like to beat the hell out of them.” His free hand fisted.
“Did you ever talk with them? Confront them?”
He shook his head. “You don’t confront deadbeat parents who lost their daughter.”
“Good point. Sorry.” They sat in silence for a few minutes, lost in their own thoughts. Trish wanted to get him talking about his feelings, because even the little bit she’d just learned seemed important. “I have a crazy idea.”
“You mean another crazy idea.” He bumped her shoulder.
“It’s still part of the first idea. Pretend I’m her parents and just get it out there. Tell me what you want to say to them.”
“I don’t know.”
“Why not? I’m an actress. I’ve been through the ringer with different roles. Just get it out and see how you feel.” Her pulse quickened with the idea. “I think this might help. Look how much more relaxed you’ve been since you first told me about Destiny. You were able to nail the other lines perfectly. It’s just the ones around the really heart-wrenching scene that you’re having trouble with. Where you find her on the brink of death.”
Chased by Love (Love in Bloom: The Ryders): Trish Ryder Page 12