by Reber, Tina
I looked out the large glass window that overlooked the arena. On the other side of the glass were twelve private seats. I knew where I was going to be sitting during this game!
The suite door opened, causing a flash of light to reflect off of the window. I instinctively turned around to see who was entering. What a big mistake that was.
Four young, giggling girls came through the door. They just about burst out into hysterics when they saw Ryan Christensen was truly in the suite. My eyes quickly flashed over to Ryan; I noticed he stopped chewing the wad of food that was crammed in his mouth for a brief second while his lips pursed together in annoyance.
Janelle subtly elbowed me and we both chuckled lightly. The girls were all decked out in short skirts and low cut tops. One even had her copy of Seaside in hand. Ryan quickly darted away from the buffet table and positioned himself between Nick and me. No matter where we went Ryan could not escape his fans.
The following afternoon, Ryan’s family gathered in the kitchen, readying Thanksgiving dinner.
“Honey, where do you want me to set this?” Bill asked. He was lifting the enormous turkey out of the oven.
I turned around to see what he was referring to.
Ellen pointed to an obvious empty space on the stove, slightly irritated that she had to give him direction.
Memories of my dad asking my mom the same question flashed in my mind. My dad was helpless too. I returned my attention back to scooping sweet potatoes into a serving bowl. Janelle was softly humming songs to herself while she set the dinner table.
“Hey, Honey... where is Sarah’s bottle?” Nick yelled from the brown recliner in the family room.
When Nick yelled, I instinctively looked over. His voice sounded so much like Ryan’s it was hard to tell the difference.
Ryan came sauntering into the kitchen wearing one of the new pairs of jeans that I got for him. For some reason that thought made me warm inside. I noticed he was looking around the family room for something.
“Hey, Honey? Do you know where my sneakers are?” Ryan asked, momentarily distracted by the television. My head naturally turned to answer him.
Instead of replying I broke out in laughter. I held onto the counter as my hilarious internal thoughts cracked me up. Everyone stopped what they were doing to look at me, wondering just what the heck was wrong with me.
“There are too many honeys in this room!” I breathed out in jest, answering Ryan’s glance. That term of endearment must have been engrained in all of them. It was also apparent that all the Christensen males were now incapable of independent thought and action.
“Every time someone yells ‘Honey’ I turn around!”
I asked for it. I was bombarded with repeated “Honeys” from all three of them.
Ryan started our first Thanksgiving dinner playfully kicking me under the table. We were both smirking when he slipped his leg under mine so our legs were resting together.
“Did you guys have fun last night?” Bill asked, passing the bowl of stuffing to me.
I opened my mouth to speak, but Nick was quicker.
“It was all right, up until Ryan’s fans showed up in the suite,” Nick interjected curtly, poking his butter knife at Ryan. “Superstar had to sign his autograph and pose for pictures and everything with his little girlfriends.” His snide tone was evident. “Ooh, I want a picture. No, pose with me!” Nick teased in a forced high-pitch voice.
Ryan slapped some mashed potatoes on his plate. The serving spoon clanged loudly when it made contact with the china; the noise made me flinch. The scowl on Ryan’s face was evident. Instead of Nick being thankful that Ryan provided an entire evening of first class entertainment - free of charge to him and his wife – he saw the opportunity to give Ryan a cheap shot and took it.
“How the heck did that happen?” Bill questioned. He looked over at Ryan. “I thought you had a private suite?”
Ryan shrugged. “It was a private suite Dad, but there were still eight other ticket holders. One of the girl’s fathers was some senior VP at the bank that has it rented for the season. She brought friends.”
Bill’s face pulled down in a frown.
“It’s humbling, you know. I mean most actors would kill to have my problems. This is what all actors strive for. A-list movies, A-list parts… not having to go to audition after audition only to be turned down or passed over. I should count my blessings, after all it is Thanksgiving.” Ryan took a moment to eat some food.
“Besides, I’m getting used to all of the unwanted attention.” He looked right over at Nick when he said it. “It used to really bother me but I’m finding that I can just tune it out and ignore it.”
I picked up on his little dig back to his own brother. Sibling rivalry was alive and well right here at this dinner table.
“Fleury made some incredible saves last night and Crosby scored two of the three goals,” I said to their father, hoping to break the tension that was starting to build between the two brothers. Ryan’s left hand slipped over my shoulder and he smiled at me.
“I’ve been a Pens fan all my life and that was the first time I got to see them play live on home ice. I had so much fun! Thank you again for taking me,” I gushed, hoping Nick would get the message to appreciate his brother.
“Mom, this turkey is really delicious,” Nick complimented. “Everything is really tasty this year.”
“Don’t thank me, thank your brother,” Ellen stated between bites. She paused to chew.
Nick quickly tossed his next jab. “Why? Did Ryan open his fat wallet and hire a professional chef to cook for us this year?”
I noticed Janelle smacked him in the leg under the table. I was wondering if this was Nick’s normal behavior or if he was going above and beyond to be an asshole.
“No, Nicholas.” Ellen broke out her corrective mother tone. “But your brother did bring Taryn home with him. She’s the one who cooked most of this delicious food, including the turkey you’re enjoying.”
Ryan set the gravy boat down. “Who knows, Nick. Maybe next year we could have Thanksgiving at my multi-million dollar completely pretentious house,” Ryan snarled. “I’m sure Taryn will be gracious enough to spend an entire day cooking for my family again. And, by the way, the next time you feel inclined to dry-hump your ‘Charles’ pillow, imagine ten percent of all the royalties going into your daughter’s trust fund before you get yourself off. By the time she’s two, she’ll be worth ten times more than you.”
“Okay, that’s enough,” Bill reprimanded, trying to tell his sons to knock it off.
“I’m just teasing him, Dad. I don’t know why the superstar is getting all sensitive,” Nick defended.
Ryan set his dinner fork down and pushed his chair back, audibly noting his departure from the table. His fingers touched my chin. “Honey, I need some air. I’ll be back.”
“Son, sit back down,” Bill somberly requested, but Ryan didn’t listen. He grabbed his coat and keys and stormed out the kitchen door.
I folded my hands on my lap when I heard the Shelby squeal out of the garage.
“Taryn, I’m sorry,” Nick uttered, trying to sound sincere.
I stared at him for a moment. “Thank you, Nick. But I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.”
“I can’t help it if he can’t take a joke!” Nick laughed uncomfortably, stuffing more food in his mouth like his insults were no big deal.
I sat there in shock. I couldn’t believe how a member of Ryan’s own immediate family, his only brother that he looked up to, could be so callous and cruel. After all the crap that Ryan has to put up with being an actor, coming home to his family should be a relief for him, not another source of pain. I looked at their parents before I turned my attention back to Nick. I couldn’t hold my thoughts any longer.
“Before you chastise your brother, Nick, you should know how much he envies you.”
“Envies me?” Nick scoffed.
“Yes, you,” I stated calmly. “
You have things in your life that you take for granted every day - freedom, anonymity, privacy, security. Things your brother no longer has. His success that you tease him about comes at a very steep price, but I thought you knew that already.” I glared at him.
“You also have things he desires - a home, a wife, a child - normalcy. You know what your brother has?” I tilted my head, making sure to hold his eye contact.
“He has acute paranoia from deranged stalkers and fans coming after him, public humiliation on a global scale when they print lies about him in forty different languages, negative criticism about everything he tries to do, and constant scrutiny by everyone – even from his big brother that he adores.” I counted them off on my fingers. “But surely you must know that already. So if you feel inclined to let him know how remorseful you are, perhaps you should think of that before you apologize.”
Nick looked completely dumbfounded. He was sitting there with his mouth hanging open.
“Would you excuse me, please,” I whispered at Ryan’s mother before rising from the dinner table. “I’m going to make sure he’s all right.” I grabbed my coat from the closet and called Ryan’s cell.
“Honey, come back for me. I want to go for a ride too. I’ll be waiting outside.”
Chapter 26 - Tests
“Call me once you’re in the limo, okay?” Ryan sighed. “Just so I know you made it home safely.”
I could see the sadness clearly in his expression. It matched my own. We both knew it would be almost three weeks until we saw each other again, and the last minutes we had together were flying by. He turned his Shelby onto the main road that led into the airport.
“I will.” I sniffed, trying not to cry. I didn’t want to leave but I had to get back to running my pub. Ryan was planning to spend some well-earned time away with his friends, Matt and Scott, and his brother before leaving for Scotland. The four men were going hunting. He and his brother also had some making-up to do.
“You know you really didn’t need to do this… Marie or Pete could have picked me up,” I muttered.
“Taryn,” he groaned, looking over at me. “You know why. I don’t like that you’re flying home alone either.”
I stared out my window, thinking that he worried too much. Our stalker was incarcerated and most of the Seaside fans left town once the filming wrapped. The reasons to be frightened and paranoid were gone.
“I’ll be all right. You should stop worrying,” I whispered.
He shook his head at me; his lips frowned at my words.
All too soon we were parked in front of the doors for departing flights.
I leaned across the center console and kissed him. I had to turn my Mitchell’s Pub baseball hat on his head so the visor would be out of my way.
“I love you,” I uttered, missing him already.
“I love you too. I’ll see you in L.A. on the sixteenth.” He took my face in his hands and kissed me again. “It’s going to feel like forever,” he whispered, resting his forehead on mine.
I turned to look at him one last time before walking into the airport… alone. No security, no police escort, no one taking my picture, no one shouting my name or his. No one really even looked at me. I stood in line to go through baggage screening and security completely unnoticed. The airport was busy with holiday travelers, but none of those travelers even looked twice at me.
I sat in the waiting area right outside my gate, not hidden away in some VIP lounge. There was no reason to hide. It dawned on me that my heart rate was… normal. My heart wasn’t pounding in my chest like it was when we first started this trip. Fear was pleasantly absent from my blood. A young woman approached me. She gently smiled before asking if the seat next to me was taken. I smiled slightly to myself; I didn’t even make a blip on her radar.
The only difference between this flight home and any other flight I’d ever taken was that I was flying first class instead of sitting in the economy seats in the back of the plane. Flying first class definitely had its perks but the actual flights were so short that it didn’t really matter what seat I had to sit in to get home. I said a little prayer of thanks when my plane finally landed in Providence. I was not a fan of flying either.
I pulled the handle out on my little suitcase, adjusted my backpack on my shoulder, and followed the other passengers towards the exit. I looked around at the people waiting for family and loved ones to arrive, wishing I would have been able to come home to familiar faces waiting for me. Instead, some stranger would be taking me home. That thought made me feel even lonelier. I fought the impulse to call Marie so many times to ask her to pick me up, only because I knew Ryan was paying for this ride home personally out of his pocket. Besides, he insisted on a security escort. Which one of these strangers is my driver?
I noticed his face first before I read the little sign that he held in front of his body which had “Mitchell” written on it. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment; fate certainly had a wicked sense of humor.
He smiled at me, but it wasn’t one of those “I’m smiling because I have to be nice to you” smiles; it was more of a smirk – like he was committing a crime by standing there holding my name on a card. I stopped in front of him and took a deep breath before I found the guts to say hello.
“Welcome home!” Kyle said smugly. “Can I take your luggage for you, Ms. Mitchell?”
He carried my suitcase and ushered me out to the car, which again, was another surprise. I had expected the typical black sedan or an SUV; even a stretch limo wouldn’t have been as shocking. Instead he had his own personal car waiting… a nice little two door silver Audi.
“Did you have a nice holiday?” Kyle asked. I sensed he was just trying to make polite small-talk.
“Yes, I did. Thank you for asking.” I chuckled lightly to myself, trying to ignore how cute he looked. “But the bigger question is why are you the one who is taking me home?” I was already in trouble just being in this car.
He smirked, knowing I wanted him to explain. He hit the gas pedal to get us out of the airport faster.
“I saw the pick-up request on the assignment log and I volunteered,” he confessed. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.” He looked over at me and shrugged. “Why, is your boyfriend going to be mad?”
The way he said it, I could tell that he didn’t care either way if Ryan was going to be angry or not. He almost sounded like he welcomed the challenge.
I stared out the car window, watching familiar road signs flash by. “Probably,” I whispered. “When I tell him.”
Kyle glanced over quickly. “Then save yourself the argument and don’t tell him.”
“I have to tell him,” I admitted. “Just in case someone took our picture. His PR team will have to be informed.”
“Wow,” he sounded astonished. “You really have gone Hollywood, haven’t you?”
His comment raised my pulse slightly. “Why do you say that? Because I happen to be involved with someone whose life is constantly under public scrutiny? Because I don’t want to give him one more reason to be hurt - that makes me Hollywood?”
“Hey look Taryn, I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s just that you don’t seem like the type of woman who would put herself out there to be scrutinized like that. But who am I to judge? Maybe you like having your picture plastered all over those magazines in the grocery store. What do I know?” he muttered, looking over his shoulder to change lanes on the highway.
I huffed. “I could definitely do without the lies that they print.”
He laughed lightly. “I can’t be sure, but I’m willing to bet those were all things you never had to worry about with other guys before him.”
I thought about his statement, backtracking through my history of failed relationships. “Lies have followed every relationship I’ve ever been in.” My admission made me frown. “Even the fabricated ones.”
“I don’t know. I thought the stories about our alleged love affair were rather amusing and eloquently writ
ten!” Kyle said comically. “I suppose that’s why he got rid of me so quickly.”
“You’d be correct in your assumption,” I whispered.
“So are you tired of all the lies yet?” he asked, shifting his car to accelerate past a few tractor-trailers.
I stared at him. “What kind of question is that?”
His eyes flashed over to look at me before turning his attention back to the road and driving.
“I think you can do better. I think you deserve better.” The tendons in his hand flexed when he tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
“Better than what?” I questioned. If he was going to pass judgement, he’d have to defend his opinion.
“Better than being put in harms way. Better than subjecting yourself to public ridicule. Better than allowing the media to use you like a punching bag.” He glared over at me. “Do you want me to go on because I can make a long list!”
I focused on the landscape outside my window while trying to subdue the burning feeling in my chest.
“No,” I muttered coldly. “I get your point.” My cell phone started to play in my purse. It was Ryan’s ringtone.
“Hi,” I answered, happy to hear from him, but annoyed that he couldn’t wait for me to call him.
“Where are you?” Ryan demanded.
“I’m in the car. We just left the airport,” I lied. Kyle looked at me and smirked, indicating that he caught my fib to Ryan.
“Oh, why didn’t you call me? I’ve been worried!” he continued.
“Honey, I just got in the car. I was going to call you but you beat me to it.” I tried to be quiet, but Kyle was sitting less than ten inches away from me. There was no way to keep this conversation private. I rubbed my face with my free hand. I was getting a sinus headache from this entire experience.
“Well, I just wanted to make sure you landed safely and that there was a car waiting for you to take you home, that’s all.”