by Tina Reber
Marie made a face at me. “That’s different. Your fiancé oozes sex from every pore and happens to be one of the most desired men on the planet. You’d have been a complete fool not to jump that.”
“Well, I could say the same. Mike’s pores are oozing just as much hotness. And he’s becoming quite famous, too, you know. He’s in just about every picture and video taken of Ryan these days. They’re like the dynamic duo poster boys of sexiness.”
“I know.” She grinned widely but it didn’t last. Her face fell quickly as she leaned on the counter.
“This moment feels so surreal, like I’m going to wake up and find that it’s all been one big practical joke. I can’t go out there.” She started to hyperventilate and appeared ready to puke in the sink. “I . . . if he . . . I don’t think I could survive rejection twice in one week. If I’m not good enough for a schmuck like Gary, why the hell would I ever be good enough for someone like Mike? I mean, look at him. He’s tall and gorgeous and perfect.”
I rubbed her back reassuringly. Oh how I knew exactly how she felt. “You’re gorgeous, too, you know.
And you are good enough. I think it’s about time someone starts treating you like the goddess you are.”
She grimaced at me.
“You know as well as I do that things happen for a reason. And by some freakish miracle, two of the most amazing men in the world are sitting out there at a table waiting patiently for us to come back to them. We are two of the luckiest women alive. But instead of spending these moments with them, we’re holed up in a tiny bathroom worrying like two idiots. What do you say? Ready to see where the chips
fall?”
Marie took a breath and righted herself. “Yeah, I’m ready. Time to trust in fate.” She gave her boobs a bit of a lift and took a deep breath. “Let’s go make our mamas proud.”
“Good morning,” I uttered over my coffee cup, even though it was close to ten. Marie’s long brown hair was all bushy and tangled and she was wearing the Brown University T-shirt I got her eons ago.
The wench failed to look me in the eye. Instead she searched for another coffee cup, ignoring me.
“I can feel you staring holes in my back,” she muttered matter-of-factly, pouring the piping-hot liquid into her cup. “No, I didn’t sleep with him. Yes, he is fully aware of the location of both of my breasts, and yes, he is an uh-may-zing kisser.” She turned and grinned like a girl who was definitely up to no good last night. Her lips were still puffy.
“And if the super-large, extremely hard bulge that I sent him home with is any indication of the potential he has to rock my world, I’m signing up for a full membership.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. I pushed out a kitchen chair for her with my foot.
“My nosey fiancé was quite worried about how you two were faring. Even got out of bed once to see if Mike’s car was still here.”
Marie shook her head from the news. “We talked a lot. He knows I’m in the middle of dealing with something ugly. And he doesn’t want to push anything until I’m ready, which I thought was very . . .
thoughtful.”
Yeah, she had it bad for him.
Marie had only stayed for four days and in that time we spent every night with Ryan and Mike. I was glad to see that Marie had a renewed sense of hope. Gary couldn’t rip her heart out because she was well on her way to falling for another man.
Mike appeared to be genuinely sad to see her go. He had arranged for other security to cover Ryan so he could personally see Marie off at the airport. That scored major points for him in my book.
As we all hugged goodbye in the terminal, I smiled when Mike promised that he’d keep in touch with her.
Mike paid the toll to get us out of short-term parking. I watched his lips press down into a grumpy scowl. By the looks of it, he was majorly pissed.
“She’ll be all right,” I said softly.
He looked over at me and nodded once. “Yeah.”
I stared at the bumper of the car in front of us, feeling relieved that Mike had been a gentleman throughout, not playing the game to get Marie into bed for a quick hit-and-run.
Still, I could see he was all knotted up. “How are you?”
His jaw flexed and his expression darkened even further. He didn’t answer right away, but when he did he said, “Just tell me if shit goes down with her. I’m figuring she won’t tell me so I’m telling you I want to know about it, okay?”
I stared at him for a minute, sort of in shock. “You sure you want to make it your business?”
Mike flicked his turn signal on and was watching oncoming traffic until his eyes locked on to mine. His anger quickly dissipated, replaced with softened but adamant sincerity. “Yeah, I do.”
I recalled how it felt to find out your man was cheating on you. Was Marie ready for her “next” or did she need time to sort it out?
Some of his tightness came back. “You have a problem with that?”
Yeah, I do.
Instead, I said, “She’s not just my best friend, Mike. She’s just about the only family I have and I don’t want her to get hurt. She’s already got one guy breaking her heart. She doesn’t need two.”
He gave me another stiff nod. “Understood.”
Marie had told me that Mike held her while she cried in front of him last night. She hated that she broke down like that but they were talking and he was asking why she ever settled for less and it just happened.
Mike turned the radio off. “Don’t think me cold but I’m glad this happened to her. I mean, I’m not happy she’s getting hurt, but I’ve seen how that asshole’s been treating her and . . .” He slapped the gear shifter. “You don’t treat a woman like her like that. You just don’t. You get a woman like that, you cherish her.”
I couldn’t help but smile at him.
He glanced back over at me. “What?”
Yeah, he liked her a lot. The sooner she scraped off Gary the better.
Chapter 9
Act
Monday morning, eight o’clock, Ryan and I were promptly whisked away in a tinted window sedan for a breakfast meeting with Jonathan Follweiler and the principal cast of Slipknot. Mike was sitting up front in the passenger seat, looking all foreboding again, while another man drove us. He’d been in a funk since we dropped Marie off but the macho asshole wouldn’t admit it. I knew better.
I cast my eyes over at the driver; he had a really thick neck and no patience when it came to fending off sidewalk onlookers after he parked in front of the hotel entrance. It was moments like these that reminded me how far from normal our lives were. Normal people drove themselves places and didn’t have chauffeurs opening their car doors.
Jonathan’s wife, Anna, who was also an executive producer of this film as well, had arrived in town and requested that I come along.
She greeted me with a big, friendly hug and a smile and I couldn’t help but feel like we were being “fixed up” on a date. I presumed furthering our friendship was the only reason I was included in this breakfast icebreaker. I was most definitely being sized up as a potential shopping partner. Anna was planning on staying in Vancouver throughout most of the scheduled filming, and she had already mentioned in the first twenty seconds that we would have loads of fun together.
Honestly, I was glad. Her excitement was infectious and her complete acceptance of me was a huge relief. Making friends in Ryan’s social sphere was important.
I shook hands with producer Parker Shay, and then was introduced to Ryan’s next co-star, actress Nicole Devin. I actually didn’t know who she was when Ryan told me her name so I looked her up on Google prior to this meeting. That’s how I found out that her father is a L.A. talent agent and her mother an accomplished scriptwriter. Nicole had a recurring role on a cable series before landing this lead role opposite Ryan.
Though we were just about the same height, she had shoulder-length caramel-brown hair, pouty lips, and a professionally sculpted nose. She looked tired; slight pur
ple circles surrounded her eyes. Instead of shaking my hand she held her arms out, welcoming me in for a hug that lingered a little longer than what was socially acceptable in my book. It was right about then that I realized her surgically enhanced breasts were causing dents to form in mine, and I backed out of the hug.
I gasped slightly when actor Bill Pullman entered the room. I knew he was cast to play the FBI agent, but it was still a shock to see him in the flesh, clad in jeans and a camel-colored sport coat, walking toward our table. It was hard not to feel giddy when he flashed those trademark dimples. Damn, I loved his movies.
While we were served coffee, I caught Nicole periodically gazing at me. She’d smile strangely, sniff a few times, then bat her eyes in another direction, often landing her view back on Ryan. Great . . . another attractive actress drooling over my fiancé and sizing me up to see how easy it would be to take out the competition. I felt my grip on my butter knife tighten.
I was trying to hold a conversation with Anna, but Nicole’s runny nose and her constant sniffing were quite a distraction. I dug in my purse to give the poor girl some tissues. I was hoping that she would feel better soon and be over her cold before Ryan had to do any kissing scenes with her, because knowing my luck, she’d end up passing it on to Ryan and I would end up with the flu or something.
I was wondering how someone so skittish-looking could become so famous when Jeremy Irons made his way to the table. Holy hell; this man is like a walking poster child for “successful actor.” Seeing him in person was quite intimidating.
I knew Ryan was nervous about working with such seasoned actors, especially since he had the lead role in this film. He was forever fearing his own acting skills might be inadequate. I had a small taste of how cynical and critical people in this business could be at the Reparation after-party, when I accidentally overheard some derogatory comments made about Ryan’s lack of acting skills. Thankfully Ryan didn’t hear them; he would have gone into a downward spiral if he had.
Still, he knew he was the new kid on the block and hadn’t fully earned his place. Ryan’s good looks combined with one successful movie role had garnered a lot of attention, but he’d have to prove his worth to his peers if he wanted their respect.
And I was sure that fear of failure was his biggest worry, though he’d never admit that out loud. Sure enough, his insecurities manifested just after midnight last night. He’d been tossing and turning and wrestling with his pillows, punching and kneading them into submission, like they had angered him.
We had just had amazing, energy-zapping sex, so I knew it was his mind that kept him from passing out.
“Can’t sleep?” I asked, hoping to get him to talk it out so he’d curl back around me.
He tugged at the covers again. “Just restless. Close your eyes, babe.”
Yeah, his mind was working overtime. “Want to talk about it?”
“No. Go to sleep.”
I rolled to face him. “Worried about tomorrow?”
He sighed, frowned, and then said, “No.”
Yeah, that was an obvious little lie. “You’re already there, you know. Just takes time for the rest of them to realize it.”
Ryan dipped his chin to look at me, brushing my hair back. “Where’s that?”
“To where you think the rest of them are in their careers and where you think you aren’t.”
He made a small, noncommittal noise.
“You’re working with two men who have been in this business the same amount of years you’ve been alive. I know you worry about it.”
Ryan wrapped his other arm over me, resting his chin on the top of my head. His tiny, pained sigh was confirmation enough.
“You’re just as brilliant and talented as they are, Ryan. You just don’t see it yet, but you will and they will, too.”
I waited for a reply, but he remained silent.
“Besides,” I added, nuzzling deeper into his chest, “you have something they’ll never, ever have.”
“What’s that?”
I closed my eyes and felt myself slip for a moment. Blessed sleep was grasping at me hard. “Eighty million screaming fans,” I mumbled.
Ryan snickered and kissed my head. “I love you. Go to sleep.”
The last thing I remember saying was “I love you more.”
Ryan stood immediately to shake Jeremy’s hand, awkwardly dropping his cloth napkin to the floor.
Even someone as famous as Ryan had his own celebrity gushing moments.
Fortunately Parker Shay joined them and eased some of the awkwardness.
After breakfast, Anna and I were placed inside a chauffer-driven Lexus for our day of shopping. I could smell the credit cards burning a hole in her purse.
It was going to be a long day.
I used this opportunity to pick her brain, learning as much as I could about what it meant to be a film producer, as Ryan had also signed on to be an executive producer of Slipknot. She was like my own private tutor, filling me in on all the sordid details and nuances of the film industry and introducing me to the wonders of shopping as if things didn’t have price tags.
Over the following days she gave me guided tours of the sets, introducing me to the different film crews, set designers, wardrobe assistants, and boom operators, explaining as best she could what everyone’s job was.
During a break, I called my answering machine, weeding through numerous requests for interviews and questions about who was representing me. Like what the hell does that mean? Do I need a freaking agent now that I’m engaged to Ryan? Delete, delete, delete.
“Hello, Miss Mitchell, this is Sharon Palmer from United Fidelity Bank. I’m calling regarding the safe-deposit box rental fee for Daniel Mitchell, which is now sixty days past due. Please contact me at your earliest convenience.” I fumbled with my phone, making sure I didn’t delete that one since I didn’t have a pen to write her number down.
Would this nonsense with my parents’ estates ever be done? I had gone through all of mom and dad’s files; how the hell did I miss this one? I wondered if I still had copies of his death certificate . . . My thumb clicked for the next message.
“Taryn.”
I froze. Just hearing my name in that voice sent a shock through my body. Suddenly it became hard to swallow.
“Listen, it’s Thomas. I stopped into the bar the other day but I hear you’re out of town. Shit. Um . . .
listen, I really need to talk to you. It’s important. Call my cell. My number is . . .”
My mind raced. What the hell could he possibly need to talk to me about? A hundred different scenarios ripped through my mind, including him possibly having nude photos of me and having been hacked or something stupid like that.
Is he going to try to get me back into his life? It’s way too late for that to happen. After witnessing his unbridled ass-pumping into that skank, and even if there were no Ryan in my life, I wouldn’t take him back.
Jonathan Follweiler yelled for me, hailing me over with his hand. I shoved my cell in my pocket, wondering if I should tell Ryan that Thomas called me.
“Ah, Taryn dear, we’re in a bit of a pinch,” he said, somewhat flustered and breathless. “Would you mind standing over there on that mark? We need to check lighting.”
“Mark?” I questioned, pointing to the X that was taped on the ground a few yards away, and beating down the echo of Thomas’s voice in my head.
Jonathan and the three other men surrounding him appeared stressed, while another man, who said he was the grip, raised some sort of handheld device near my face. The uncertainty of whether I was doing this properly had me frozen in place while enormous cameras and large lights were adjusted around me.
The first assistant director, a man I had come to know by the name of Denny, trotted to my side.
“Where? Here?” he asked, wrapping his rough, paw-like hand around my upper arm to relocate me.
Jonathan hurried over and pulled his headphones down around his neck. “Taryn,
see that first mark? I want you to stand over there and then when I give your cue, I want you to walk from there to here.”
“Sure. No problem.” I walked to the first mark and waited.
I made the same walk from point A to point B several times while the commotion of filmmaking and lighting adjustments happened around me. I had no idea why I was chosen to walk back and forth, but it didn’t matter; I was just relieved to finally feel like I was serving some purpose instead of being a useless body in everyone’s way. Ryan was off giving some sort of quick interview so I really didn’t know what to do with myself.
While I stood on the second mark, I noticed Mike escorting Ryan out to the set. I saw panic flash over Ryan’s face a moment later. He ran over to me like a father removing his child from the middle of a busy highway. Thankfully his concern for me made thoughts of Thomas disappear.
“Sorry,” Ryan said in apology to Denny. “Taryn—what are you doing?” he whispered furiously. He started to tug my arm, pulling me off my mark.
“No! Wait.” I tried to hold my ground.
“No, no. Ryan, leave her there,” Denny instructed. “We needed a standin for Nicole.”
“Oh,” Ryan uttered. Relief washed over his face.
“Jonathan has found a use for me,” I explained, bouncing slightly on my tiptoes on the large silver-tape X, trying to keep warm. Even though it was sunny outside, the temperature in Vancouver was on the chilly side. I nodded when Jonathan told me to stick around, but he needed ten minutes.
“Jees, I sort of panicked there for a minute.”
I frowned at him. “I think I know better than to wander out in front of the cameras.”
“I didn’t know. Sorry.” His lips curled in amusement. “Just think, your first official job in the movie industry is as an actor standin,” he said with a laugh. I could see the hint of pride touch his face. “You know they have you on film now? We’ll have to see if we can get a copy.”
I nudged him softly with my elbow. “This isn’t a job. It’s a quick favor for Jonathan. So, are you ready?
Know your lines?”