by Tina Reber
The sirens were getting closer. Ryan’s hands were bloody from his nose bleeding all over the place.
Now the entire neighborhood was alerted to the melee. The elderly couple that owned the yard we were in came out of their house.
Scott took off his shirt and handed it to Ryan, who proceeded to wipe his bloody face with it.
“Sit down,” Matt yelled at the paparazzo and gave him a shove when he tried to stand. Ryan balled up the bloody shirt, rolling his gaze from me to the shirt and back again, then handed it to me.
The cruiser’s engine gunned and then screeched to a halt at the curb. As soon as the police officer got out of the car, Ryan and the guys were ordered to lie facedown on the ground. Tears ran down my face watching Ryan get handcuffed and patted down like a criminal. Another police SUV came blaring down the street from the opposite direction.
Ryan’s father and Mike were trying to explain things to the cops while the photographer blabbered on about how he was assaulted and his camera destroyed.
Ryan looked worn and battled; his bare chest was bloodied and stretched from being handcuffed.
Blood splatters were all over his swim trunks with a smear of it on the upper part of his knee. He motioned for me to come to him.
“Baby, are you okay?” I wiped the edge of his chin with the shirt.
“I need a towel. Wait . . .”
I knelt back down on one knee. His eyes instructed me to come closer.
“Careful with that. Make it disappear.”
I clutched the shirt to make sure nothing fell out, knowing what was wrapped up in it. “Are you under arrest?”
He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “I don’t know. I’m gonna need you to call David,” he muttered quickly. “And my lawyer. Oh, and call Trish.” He spit out more blood, cursing to himself.
Now that the adrenaline was subsiding, I could see the magnitude of the last ten minutes crashing down on him.
While Ryan was being interviewed by the police, an ambulance came zipping down the street. I felt like my bones were going to rattle right out of my skin from shaking so hard.
“Are they taking him to the hospital?” Ellen asked in a panic as she ran back with a bath towel.
The ambulance crew attended to Ryan first, swabbing the blood off his face and nose. I knew exactly why he refused to be taken to the hospital. That would have set off a media feeding frenzy for sure. We had to keep this contained.
The elderly neighbor, whom I had met yesterday when he and his wife came to our party, ambled over to talk to Ryan. “How are you doing, son?”
“I’ve been better, Mr. Doughten. Sorry about all of this.”
The old man scowled at the paparazzo. “So that bastard was in my tree, was he? Spying on your family?”
Ryan nodded, staring mostly at the ground. “He was taking pictures of us, sir.” It was apparent that he was embarrassed to be standing there talking to a man he obviously respected while wearing handcuffs.
“Pictures, huh? Oh Jesus, Mary, Joseph.” He scrubbed his bristly gray whiskers. “You can’t catch a break, can ya kid?”
Mr. Doughten’s lower lip quivered as he eyed me up and down.
The police officer sidled up to Mr. Doughten. “Huh? Hell yes, I want to press charges.” He raised a crooked, arthritic finger. “That son of a bitch was in my tree, trespassing on my property. Damn right I’m going to press charges. This is ridiculous.”
“And Mr. Christensen?” the officer asked. Another police cruiser sped down the street, red and blue lights whirling.
“Hell no. That boy knows my front lawn better than I do. Been cutting my grass since he was old enough to run the tractor. He’s a good boy. And his two friends there. Been helping Lil and me for years.
Planted every one of them arborvitaes over there for me. And Scotty put in my brick walkway. They’re all good boys from good families. Now do your job and get those damn handcuffs off of them. Let them go back to their party.”
The officer turned to Ryan. “Mr. Dooley claims that you stole the memory card from his camera.”
Ryan confessed to removing it. “But I don’t have it. I dropped it in the grass somewhere over there.”
After a few moments of scanning the yard with a flashlight, the officer gave up. Finding it was obviously not one of his top priorities. Just when I thought they were going to release him, the officer informed Ryan that he was under arrest for disorderly conduct.
Everything became brighter as I heard the whoosh of my blood pulsing in my ears. It felt as if the ground were about to give out under my feet. Ryan’s father grabbed his mother as she lunged toward the police car. She was crying and in just as much shock as I was.
Both Matt and Scott were under arrest as well. All three of them were getting crammed into the backseats of the cruisers. The officer guided Ryan into the car and closed the door. As I stood there, watching him from the grass, he wouldn’t look at me.
“I’ll get the car and follow them,” Ryan’s dad, Bill, said. Mike followed him.
I was surprised when they came back in a little over an hour. David was not pleased to hear my voice when I called him, but too freaking bad. I was still on the phone getting talked down from the rafters by Trish when I heard the car doors slam in the driveway.
Ryan barely looked at me, passing me in the kitchen with a sideways glance. I heard him jog up the steps and then the shower came on.
Bill tossed his keys on the counter, answering his wife. “They got processed and released. They’ll all have to go to court, then find out what the fine is.”
I wanted to go to Ryan but I could tell he wanted space. Mike sat in a chair outside with his head in his hands doing his own private browbeating.
I sat down opposite him, leaning my elbows on my knees. “You okay?”
Mike stared at me for a moment before silently shaking his head. “This should have never happened today. I screwed up.”
“No you didn’t.”
“Yes, I did. I’m too close.”
“Too close to what?” Snapping? Join the club.
“You and Ryan. Been too lax. I’m not paying attention like I should be. I didn’t even do a basic perimeter check today.”
“Mike, you can’t see everything. The guy was way up in the tree.”
He sat up abruptly. “It’s my job, Taryn. You and Ryan are paying me to protect you from shit like that. I failed you both today. I’ve got to resign. He needs someone new, someone who can put distance between the threats and the clients.”
“Oh no. You are not resigning from our detail. That idiot was so far up the neighbor’s tree there is no way you would have seen him unless you were standing in the middle of the pool. I only saw him because the sun glared off his lens. There’s no way you would have spotted him from the ground, so quit beating yourself up about it.”
“My charge got arrested today,” he growled through his teeth.
“Your charge could have easily sent you after the photographer but he didn’t. You are not responsible for Ryan’s actions.”
“He shouldn’t have had to if I’d been doing my job.”
His dedication and conviction were admirable. He wouldn’t be so torn up if he didn’t love us. I wondered if Marie got to see this side of him. “Are you always this sensitive?”
His eyes popped wide open. “What?”
“One slip in an entire year and you’re ready to quit.”
“Not quitting. Just placing you in better hands. I’ve compromised my position by blurring the lines and that puts you both in danger.”
He was being overly emotional. “Well, you can’t quit.”
“Why not?”
“Because I won’t allow it,” I said firmly.
“Look, if this is about Marie, I won’t let—”
“It’s not about Marie. It’s about having someone I trust watching him. Mike, you are the only one within his immediate circle of management that I trust. I breathe easier knowing you are with him whereve
r he goes. Your presence alone gives him a level of comfort and peace that he’s not going to get from just anyone.”
“Comfort and peace do not keep him safe, Taryn.”
“Mike, you could surround him with armed guards and it would not have kept that idiot from climbing a tree and using a telephoto lens. Ryan has enough stress on him. He wants to feel normal. Who would have ever thought he couldn’t do that in his family’s backyard? And you need to have some downtime, too.”
“Yeah, but—”
“But nothing. You’re not quitting, so get that out of your head.”
Ryan came outside wearing a pair of shorts and a deep scowl. “Where’s that camera card at?”
I followed him in the house and handed it to him, wondering how much space was required. I mulled it over at the kitchen table before I decided to suck it up and be brave. I knew firsthand the humiliation that came with wearing handcuffs.
He was sitting at his desk in his old bedroom, glaring at his laptop. I noticed he plugged the card reader from our camera bag into the USB port.
“You okay?”
His eyes flashed up to me. “I was arrested for the first time in my fucking life. What do you think?”
“I know the feeling.”
He gave me an angered scowl. I could see a deep purple bruise starting to form under his left eye.
“Want to throw shoes?”
He let out a deep sigh, as if he was pushing all the bad out. His eyes closed for a moment. “No. Don’t want to throw shoes.”
My next words came out on a whisper. “Do you want me to leave you alone?”
He huffed again and rubbed his forehead. I took that as an unspoken yes so I turned for the door.
“Tar, wait . . .” He held out his hand. “Come here.” I reached for his offering.
I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding when he pulled me onto his lap. His arms cinched around my body and he buried his face in my neck. I drifted my fingers through his damp hair, pressing him tighter.
“I’m so tired of this, Tar. So freaking tired. Can’t even have a day off without them following us.” He looked up into my eyes. “He came to my parents’ house. My parents. That’s crossing the line.”
I touched the skin below the bruise on his cheek. “I agree.”
“People don’t realize . . . they don’t know how it is to feel stripped of your privacy. All they want are pictures of whoever I’m with or what personal shit I’m doing—as if they have a right to know that. And for what? To see that I’m just like anyone else? Christ, Tar. You got hit by a fucking car because of me.”
I held his face. “That was not your fault. Don’t say that.”
He jerked away. “Yes, it was. That crazy girl was stalking you because of me. Huge boxes of fan mail showing up at your place? Threat letters? What happened in Paris? Nah, I’m not having that anymore. Uh-uh.” I could see him steel his resolve.
One of his arms released me so he could click the mouse. Rows upon rows of pictures dotted the screen. He let out a curse, rubbing his forehead. “He’s been tracking us since as soon as we landed here.
Son of a bitch.”
“Oh my God. Are those from yesterday?”
“Yep. Bastard got shots of my entire family. There’s one with us when I was holding Sarah. Damn it!”
My eyes widened as he continued to page through hundreds more. I felt as if I’d swallowed a rock seeing close-ups of Ryan’s tongue on my breast in the pool. The idiot took so many pictures, it was almost like live action seeing shot after shot of Ryan and me in private, intimate moments. I wanted to puke.
“That’s it. No more. After the third Seaside is filmed, I’m done.”
Chapter 20
Rebound
“He was arrested, Taryn. There’s nothing I can do. His mug shot is public record now,” Trish explained. I didn’t care. It had been four days since the incident; every tabloid and news outlet was circulating and publishing the picture of him bruised and tinged with blood and I wanted them to end.
I hid in the far corner of the bar office to make sure Ryan couldn’t accidentally overhear my conversation, even though the last time I saw him he was still in bed. That was at one o’clock. I was feeling like I was at the end of my rope. “I know. Ryan’s lawyer called. Even if they get the charge dropped the picture is still out there. He’s not taking this very well, Trish.”
She sighed. “I wanted to talk to him, see if he wants me to spin this, but he won’t take my calls. He’s not the first celebrity who’s had their mug shot posted. Either we counter with positive press or just let it naturally blow over, which it will.”
“Yeah well, right now the press is having a field day.” I was starting to pick up Ryan’s forehead-rubbing habit. “Ryan’s lawyer alerted us that the photographer has hired counsel. He’s attempting to sue us for a million. Can you believe the bastard wants us to pay for the lost income he would have made selling pictures of us to the media?”
“I believe it.”
“Ryan’s not himself anymore. This has pushed him into such a depression; I don’t know what to do.
He’s even lost weight. He’s barely eating. All he wants to do is sleep or lie on the sofa. He’s becoming a recluse.”
“Let him have a few days to get it together. His ego has taken a blow.”
I chewed on my fingernail. “This isn’t just about his ego. He says he’s retiring.”
“What?” Trish shrieked. “No. Bad idea. Bad. That will kill his career. Comebacks in this business are hard to make. He’s at the top of his game right now. He pulls out and you can kiss his box-office draw goodbye.”
“Trish, the guy had over a thousand photos of us. The cops found soda bottles filled with pee in the neighbor’s yard. He’d been wearing this camo netting stuff to blend in with the damn tree! Who knows how long he’d been up there.”
“Oh, boy. I’ve heard of him. They call him ‘Fast Freddy.’ He freelances for one of the largest celebrity photo agencies in L.A. He’s the idiot that almost got Bieber into an accident two weeks ago, chasing him down the Santa Monica Freeway for a shot. These guys know no boundaries.”
“They’re like jackals.” I looked at the calendar in my hand, wondering what I could do to get Ryan back into the swing of things.
“Why don’t you two go on vacation? Get out of there for a few days?”
“I’ve suggested it but he doesn’t want to deal with airports or any place that’s public. I told him that hiding is not the answer and that he should show the world he’s fine and doing his thing but it’s like talking to a brick wall. I’ve had reporters and press staked out in my pub since we got back. I have two guys working the door because we’ve been inundated with curious fans. It’s crazy. I need to get him away from here but he refuses to go.”
Trish sighed. “I hate to even bring it up, but I heard about Marla’s latest stunt.”
I took a deep breath, cringing from just hearing that woman’s name. “I don’t know how she thinks she could get away with overcharging us. I’d like to stick her lawsuit up her ass.”
Pete peered around the office door, waving his cell at me. “Tar, Ryan’s calling for you.”
I quickly ended my call with Trish and tucked my cell in my pocket. Ryan refused to set foot in the bar, saying that it caused too many problems for my business for him to be seen. His fans just didn’t know when to quit. It was getting to be assumed that if I was here then he was, too. There were spotters watching out for me now.
Ryan frowned at me when I came through the apartment door. “Why aren’t you answering your cell?”
“I was talking on it.”
“Oh. Who were you talking to?”
“I was dealing with something. Why?”
Shoulders that used to stand tall and firm were hunched as if he’d been defeated. He hadn’t shaved in several days, nor had he done anything more than shower and run a hand through his hair. He had on a torn T-shirt and a pa
ir of threadbare cotton shorts, looking more like a homeless person than a multimillionaire celebrity.
He rubbed his eye with his knuckle. “Nothing. I woke up and didn’t know where you were, that’s all.”
I hated seeing him reduced to this state of despondency. “Are you hungry? You want some lunch?”
He shrugged, shuffling barefoot down the hall to his second-favorite place: the left side of the couch.
I sat next to him and tried to snuggle up. He seemed less agitated when I was under his protective wing. “You still have those pictures of places you wanted to see that you gave me at Christmas?”
He scratched his bare feet together while he flipped through the television channels. “They should still be in the drawer in the bedroom under my T-shirts. Why?”
“I think we should pick one and go someplace. Get the hell out of here for a few days. Fun? Sun? What do you think?”
He took a big sip off one of the many cups of water he had stashed around the apartment. At least in his depression he hadn’t started drinking. “Tar, we talked about this. How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t want to go anywhere right now? Can’t we just stay put for once? Please babe? I feel as though I’ve been around the world eighty times. I just want to relax.”
He slid into the couch, wedging deeper into his depression.
I understood his desire for taking a break, but this was beyond his normal behavior. He hadn’t been out of the apartment since we got here.
“What ever happened to those sketches you did of our massive home?”
“They’re in my messenger bag. Why?”
I got up, tired of watching him flip through one hundred channels over and over again. I set his drawings next to my laptop and turned on the printer. First thing I searched for was a copper farm sink I saw in a magazine once. I found one that I liked, printed it out, and taped it to another blank page in his tablet. I knew he was watching me so I pretended to ignore him.
Curiosity eventually won out. “What are you doing?”
Trying to get you thinking of other things, like our future. “I found something I wanted to add.”
He leaned on the back of the couch, studying his impressive sketches. “Maybe I’ll go back to college, finish my degree.”