by Reber, Tina
“Guys, this is my girlfriend, Taryn,” Ryan said proudly, putting his arm around my shoulder.
We gathered up Ryan’s things and carried them upstairs. Ryan set his large suitcase on the bed and unzipped it. All his clothes were just shoved into one big heap. I noticed the name on the luggage tag wasn’t Ryan’s – his tag read ‘Shell-B Enterprises’ with a Los Angeles address.
Ryan carried most of his stuff into the laundry room and then joined the two boys who were already making themselves at home on my furniture.
A few seconds later, Ryan came back into the bedroom. “I want to give them some money,” he told me. He kissed me quickly after returning his wallet to the nightstand.
“Hey!” I called out, stopping him before he got too far. “I have that new video game system, if you guys want to play. It’s all in the large drawer below the TV. There is a sports disc and a Ninja fighting game.”
Ryan’s face lit up with happiness.
I pulled the zipper open on his duffle bag and dumped it out on the bedroom floor. A moment of shock struck me when I saw the strip of condoms and an empty condom wrapper mingled in his stuff. I picked up the empty wrapper - the inside was dry. Seven were still intact.
I ran over the facts that I had on him so far. One, he slept with Francesca, but that was over a year ago. Two, he was supposedly in a relationship with a wanna-be actress he knew from Pittsburgh, but that was before the Francesca incident. Three, his last known girlfriend dumped him over the summer; and Four, Kelly had said that Ryan was the opposite of what Suzanne had accused him of being. Ryan had said to me once that it had been months. Months of what though? Not having sex? Not dating anyone?
I tried to remember the exact question I asked him while we were fishing - was he seeing someone. He said no, and to answer the question I wasn’t asking - months. The question that remained in my mind was who was the lucky recipient of the used condom?
The front of his suitcase was lumpy, so I unzipped it and pulled out the contents. There were a few boarding pass stubs and luggage receipts mixed in with some used napkins and empty gum wrappers. Mixed in that were a few pairs of dirty socks. I slid my hand back inside the large pocket to make sure I had gotten everything when I felt my fingers bump into something stiff.
In my hand was an ordinary greeting card with the words “I Miss You” printed on the front above a picture of a setting sun. I opened the card; inside was a picture of Ryan cuddling with an actress I recognized immediately, Lauren Delaney. Long, silky brown hair with a stunning face and figure – it made me cringe to think he was with her once. Inside the card was a hand-written sentiment:
I stuck my hand back into the large pocket to see if there was an envelope, but the pocket was empty. I flipped the picture over; there was the answer I was looking for – February 9th of this year. I laughed to myself from the irony; that was right around the same time I found Thomas in bed with that girl.
I quickly shoved the card and picture back down in the pocket and stuffed the pieces of ticket stubs and paper remnants on top of it. Even though I could hear him with Jason out in the living room, the last thing I wanted to do was get caught rummaging through his things.
I picked up the strip of condoms and shoved them back in his empty duffle bag.
That action led to another thought - every time Ryan made love to me, not once did he use protection. He never even attempted to put a condom on - ever. He knew I was taking birth control pills, but yet he was still taking chances. He obviously used condoms before with other women – but why not with me? Why was I different?
Our lovemaking had always been spontaneous and unrestricted, and we certainly didn’t hold a lot of conversations during our moments to talk about birth control. Why did neither one of us seem concerned with whether or not I got pregnant?
“Tar, where are you going?” Ryan asked as I opened my apartment door.
I looked at him with the thoughts of unprotected lovemaking still in my mind.
“I’m going to see if the mail came,” I quickly answered. He sprang to my side in a few quick steps.
“You’re not going outside, are you?” he muttered under his breath.
“No. Mail slot is in the front door. The mail gets delivered at three thirty.”
“Phew,” he sighed. “Please don’t go out unless you absolutely must. There are too many fans out there right now.”
Inside my door, I saw a larger pile of mail than normal. Lying on top of my mail were cards simply addressed to Ryan Christensen. I shook my head in disbelief.
He smiled quickly at me when I returned, then resumed his actions with the controller. He and Jason were playing the ninja game, both of them were swinging and punching their controllers in the air. It was slightly amusing watching them play.
“This is like a freaking workout!” Ryan groaned.
I sorted through the mail; Electric bill, two credit card solicitations, new clothing magazine, and a few other random pieces of junk mail were mixed in with his fan mail.
I held up the envelopes that were addressed to Ryan and waved them in the air.
“What’s that?” he asked, swinging his arm to kill the pretend bad guy on the television screen.
“Ryan Christensen fan mail,” I announced.
“You’re kidding!” he scoffed. “Just throw them in the trash.”
I was dying of curiosity to see what his fans were writing to him about. “Can I open one?”
He grimaced at me. “Why the hell would you want to do that? Honey, you really don’t want to see that. Just throw them away.” He laughed. “Good hit, Jay!”
I figured he really didn’t care, so I ripped open the top envelope. Inside was a card with hearts drawn on it and the girl who sent it even conveniently enclosed her picture with a phone number. He was right; these women were beyond delusional.
“What do you think, Honey? Is that psychotic fan the one for me?” He laughed, eyeing me as I looked at the girl’s picture.
“Maybe! She looks sort of desperate!” I teased.
“Can I see?” Jason reached for the picture. “Dude, look at this chick!” He handed the picture to Shawn.
“Damn!” Shawn choked. “She’s a two bagger!”
Ryan started laughing. “Okay, let me see.” He put the game on pause and pulled the picture out of Shawn’s hand.
“What’s a two bagger?” I asked.
Jason was laughing too hard to respond.
“A two bagger is where the chick is so ugly that you both have to wear bags over your heads. That way if her bag falls off while you’re doing her, you don’t get blinded by the ugly,” Shawn explained.
“Are there any more pictures?” Jason asked.
I pulled the envelopes out of the trash can and opened them one by one. I didn’t bother to pull the cards out; I just looked inside for pictures.
There were four pictures altogether. One of the fans was gracious enough to show her breasts in her picture. I handed them all over to the boys. I looked in the last envelope to make sure I didn’t miss an enclosure when I noticed that a picture of some girl was glued to the inside of the card.
Oh my God. I gasped and pulled the entire card out of the envelope. There she was, the curly-haired, gap-toothed, psycho fan. The card was covered in glossy snippets of Ryan’s face that she obviously cut out of many different magazines. She had included her face in some of the pictures next to his face, replacing Suzanne’s face with her own. Scribbled all around their pictures were “I Love You” and “I Love Charles” sentiments. Her name was Angel.
Visions of this whacko taking the time to cut out Ryan’s face and glue each piece to this card freaked me out. It felt hard to swallow. I couldn’t get the card out of my hand quick enough; my fingers fumbled it into the garbage can and I ran to the bathroom to wash my hands. Fear and panic struck me; this was beyond admiration, and this particular psycho fan was just outside my front door.
I was shaking slightly as I folded Ry
an’s clothing that I gathered from the dryer. I could clearly see why he was terrified. For a moment, I was terrified too. I placed his clean clothing on the bed while my emotions did a slow boil. How dare they, all of them, do this to him… to us!
I grabbed my cell phone and marched to the front window. There were so many people down on the street you would have thought we were having a street fair.
“Yes, this is Taryn Mitchell. I’m calling from 114 South Fourth Street, Mitchell’s Pub. I’d like to report a large crowd blocking street traffic. There are also a lot of people loitering in front of my business. I’d like them to be told to leave. Thank you.”
Ryan chuckled to himself. “Calling the cops doesn’t help, but if it made you feel better, then I guess it’s worth a try.”
“How about a high pressure fire hose?” I muttered, peeking out behind the blind.
“I can get you some stink bombs,” Jason offered. Ryan grimaced at him. “No, I’m serious. The special effects trailer is loaded with cool shit.”
Jason’s comment about the movie set reminded me of another phone call I had to make. I called Cory.
Not only did I want him to cover my absence while Ryan’s parents were in town, but having a man working in the bar suddenly sounded very reassuring.
“Dude, we’re gonna roll,” Jason said on his way to the door, slapping his hand into Ryan’s.
I led them down the stairs so I could turn the alarm off once again.
“Jason, thank you so much for all your help. I truly appreciate it.”
“No problem.” Jason smiled back at me. “I’m glad to see it all worked out for him.” He motioned his head back to Ryan.
As the boys left, I could see a few police officers moving everyone along. I was thankful that the police made the vans across the street move too. They were at metered parking spots; unfortunately after six p.m., the parking meters were no longer valid.
I returned to my laundry detail; Ryan helped fold some of his clothes. I moved the shirts he picked out of the boxes from the washer to the dryer.
“Taryn, we need to talk,” he said, leading me back to the bedroom.
I had no idea what he wanted to talk about. He sat me down on the bed.
“I was wondering how you felt about me staying here. Wherever I am, that follows.” He tilted his head towards the living room. “I’m worried about how it affects you and, well, your business.”
I shrugged his comment off. I was more concerned about his safety than mine.
“Ryan, I’m fine with you staying here. I guess I just overreacted a bit when I saw how your fans terrorize you. It angered me. At least when you’re here, I can protect you.
“To be honest, I love having your arms around me at night and waking up next to you in the morning. After all, isn’t that what it’s about anyway - two people, in love, together?”
He picked my hand up in his and smiled. “Yeah, it is! But unfortunately the fans and the paparazzi - they follow,” he reminded.
“I know, and I don’t care. I do care about you though.” I looked directly into his eyes.
“Hmm,” he lightly purred, apparently pleased by my comment. “So you’re okay with this?”
“Yeah!” I smiled and nodded.
He took a deep breath. “Then how would you feel if I told you I wanted to stay here more? Maybe even every night?”
I swallowed while the exhilaration from his question flooded my heart and circled confusion in my brain.
“What?” I breathed out. “Are you saying you want to move in with me?” My sheer surprise came out as a whisper.
“Well, I was just thinking that when I’m done working, instead of going to the hotel, I could come here. This is where I want to be anyway. What do you think?” he asked hesitantly, biting his bottom lip.
I took a deep breath, gathering my words before I spoke. Was he even allowed to do something like this while under contract to film? I had to ask. “I think…”
His cell phone rang on the nightstand. “Shit, hold that thought…” He looked at the number and took the call.
“David, hey. I’m doing great! Yeah, I have a minute.” Ryan covered his phone with his hand. “My manager,” he whispered to me.
His face morphed from an elated smile to a look of disgust in an instant.
“No, I didn’t move out of the hotel. I don’t know why they called you. I just had all my things retrieved so I could wash my clothes, that’s all,” he sighed.
I watched Ryan start to rub his forehead. He walked out of the bedroom but he didn’t go far; I could still hear every word clearly.
“I’ve been staying at Taryn’s,” I heard him confess.
Apparently his manager knew about me.
“I’ll take my chances. You know, David, I just don’t give a shit anymore. I am so sick and tired of hiding and having every fucking detail of my life become public knowledge.” Ryan’s voice became louder, distressed.
“I’m done with being locked up in some hotel like a prisoner. I’m sick of it! It’s been like this for over two years. I’m going out of my mind! I want to have a normal relationship with someone for once.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’m no longer allowed to have a personal life,” he responded defensively. “I wish someone would have told me that I’m not allowed to have a fucking life at all because I sure don’t remember seeing that clause in any of my contracts!”
I stood there, motionless, listening to him shout in the hallway. My pulse quickened and my hands started to tremble, knowing I was the reason for his defensiveness.
“Fine, then if that’s the case, inform the studio that I’ll pay for my own security. Do that, ‘cause I’m not living in lockdown anymore. I can’t… deal with it.”
He sighed. “Why? So I can have more of my clothes mysteriously disappear? I’ll do my own laundry. I don’t want strangers touching my clothing - it creeps me out.
“I’m pretty sure she knows what she’s gotten herself into. The paparazzi have been onto her for weeks and that was before we were seen together publicly.
“I don’t care what the media says about me. The only person I’m worried about, the only person I care about is Taryn.
“Don’t worry about me. I’m staying focused. They’re getting a quality performance.” Ryan was irritated. “I’ve seen all the dailies – they look great. Kenneth hasn’t said a word to me about it; I would hope the director would tell me if he had concerns!
“Are you kidding me? If they want to discuss things with me, then they can come here. No, you listen to me, David. I’ll fucking walk away before I let anyone dictate my life. I’m pretty sure I can live quite comfortably on the twenty million I already have in the bank.
“I’m the one trying to be a professional here! She’s probably pissed that she can’t just knock on my hotel room door to get my attention anymore.
“If the third movie sucks then I suggest they start pointing their finger in the proper direction. I’m regretting ever signing on for this project. Yeah, I know David. All right.”
I dumped the clean load of white laundry onto the bed – a reflex to make it look like I wasn’t listening intently. He stopped in the doorway and leaned on the frame with his arms folded across his chest.
I didn’t say anything. I knew he was upset. I think he sensed I was too. How else could I be?
“I know you heard my conversation,” he said softly.
“I’m making things difficult for you,” I whispered, fighting back my tears of guilt.
“No,” he said, shaking his head to disagree. “You’re the only thing that’s keeping me sane.”
“I don’t see how that’s possible,” I said somberly, diverting my attention to separating the laundry.
Ryan stepped to my side and took his socks out of my clenched hands.
“Do you love me?” he asked emphatically, his eyes piercing. His fingers lifted my chin. “I mean really love me?”
“Yes! Yes I do,�
�� I stated, looking directly into his eyes. “With all of my heart.”
A smile touched his lips.
“You know that my life is anything but normal. So I’m going to ask you one more time. Are you sure you’re okay with this – me staying here with you?”
“Are you allowed to stay here?” I half expected him to say no. “Will they allow it?”
“I’m a grown man. I’ll do what I want.” He rubbed my arms.
“You’re breaching your contract,” I said, assuming it was in the fine print somewhere.
“They are required to pay me and assure my safety and comfort. I’m not going to let them own me. Taryn, I want to be with you, if you’ll have me.”
His mesmerizing blue eyes stared straight into my soul, searching for my reaction.
“I’ll make some room so you have a place for your things.” I kept my tone low.
“Taryn, that’s not what I asked.” He snatched me gently by the wrist.
Overwhelming guilt was rolling in on me now.
“Ryan, I want you here more than you can ever imagine. But I also know that there are reasons why you are kept hidden and guarded in your hotel room. I’m afraid that if you stay here, then everything the studio has arranged for you will be jeopardized. You already have enough stress because of me.”
“Because of you? Are you serious? Why do you keep saying that?”
I shrugged, wondering why it wasn’t blatantly obvious to him like it was to me. “The trouble with Suzanne, and now with your manager and the studio people… not to mention the things that the tabloids will print about you being with me. That surely is going to cause problems for you. I don’t want to damage your career, Ryan!”
He laughed at me. “Oh, Honey! You are not the cause of my stress. And all the press about our relationship is doing the opposite of damaging my career, so please stop thinking that way! Sweetheart, you are the only thing keeping me from jumping off the roof!”
I rolled my eyes.
“I don’t care about any of that. And I’ll hire my own security team if it ever comes down to it.” He shrugged. “Regardless, that’s not for you to worry about.”