by Grea Warner
I wanted to stand up and go to him. I knew there was something wrong, and it wasn’t just in his words. It was in his mannerisms—the way he jittered instead of standing still and the way his eyes seemed to be zipping all over the room. But I couldn’t. Dang it. Not in an office with a glass door. The energy between us was on a different level than when he had dropped me off in his car that Tuesday, but it was definitely strong and palpable.
Ryan walked past me and opened his door. “Everyone gone?” he called out to his secretary.
“Yeah, Ryan,” she answered.
“Go. Go home.” He was direct but kind.
“I’ll stay. There’s tons of calls coming in, and I can—"
“No. That’s exactly ... You haven’t been saying anything, have you?”
I couldn’t help but turn then so I could actually see Ryan’s face. What was wrong? What was happening? He didn’t seem angry ... just concerned and worn.
“No. Of course not,” she denied. “I don’t know anything. Can you tell me? What happened? The news—"
“I’m still trying to put the pieces together.” He was the one who spoke, but it exactly mimicked my internal thoughts.
“Is she all right? She’s all right, isn’t she?” Anamaria asked about whom I could only assume at that point was Kari.
When Anamaria’s phone rang, Ryan insisted, “Leave it. We don’t have a comment. Go home. It’s ... everything is fine.”
I didn’t believe him, and I’m pretty sure Anamaria didn’t either by the way she seemed to freeze and then look at me and back to him. “You’re sure?”
Ryan, I guess, had enough. He went out to Anamaria’s desk and started handing her the light blazer draped on the back of her chair. “It’s Friday. You know we clear out early. You should have been gone already. Go. Have a good weekend.”
She grabbed her purse from the bottom drawer. “Call if—"
“Of course,” he concluded. “Thanks, Ana. I mean it.” And then he started to walk her toward the elevator bank.
When he reentered his office, he still shut the door behind him. Whatever was going on was serious. I finally at least felt all right standing up to meet him.
“What happened?” My voice trembled a little.
“You sounded good. I think I liked what you were doing with ‘Pack Tomorrow.’”
“Ryan!” I exclaimed. I didn’t want to talk about the new version of the song we had written together, even though it was his talent I had been channeling when making the changes. I wanted to know what was going on.
“Kari was attacked.” He sounded defeated.
“What?” My voice jumped an octave.
He blew out another gust of air and spoke remarkably plainly. “After her concert. There was some afterparty thing. Some crazy fan.”
“Attacked?” I questioned. “Like what? What does that mean? Is she all right?”
“Hit and pushed ... fell. There was a hustle.”
“Oh, man.”
“I ... I guess she’s okay, but I haven’t been able to talk with her. They’re saying she’s at the hospital.” His pause I think was only because he probably had a million things on his mind. “I need to make sure the kids are sheltered from it. I don’t want them to hear about it from the press and be scared.” Of course that was his top concern, as it should have been.
“Is there anything I can do?” I offered.
“Just be here. Okay?” He tilted his head slightly and gave me a sad little smile.
“Ryan ...”
I could tell he was trying to be brave or hold back or something, and I hoped it wasn’t for my benefit. If it was initially, it didn’t last. He pulled me into his strong, all-encompassing embrace.
“Geez. Man.” He exhaled behind my back, holding on tight. Then after a moment, when the power of my hug hopefully helped, he brought me away, just to arm’s length. “Looks like we have the place to ourselves like you wanted before.” His smile was a little more legitimate that time.
“That was not what I wanted.” I did an airy laugh. “But had I known, it would have worked out just fine.” I tried a reassuring smile for him because, even though we had a sentence or two of lightheartedness, I knew there were heavy things on his mind.
And his next words proved it. “I’ve got to pick up the kids, and I’m sure there’s going to be a lot more calls. I wanted to spend some time with you,” he partially pouted.
“We still can if you want to. How about if I order some dinner and meet you at your place?” I suggested.
“You sure? Cause I’d love that.”
“Yeah. So ... what? Thai? Mexican? Chinese? Italian?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“What do you think the kids would want?”
“Up to you. What—"
“Just tell me. Your choice.”
“Oh no, we’re not playing the your-choice game again.”
I let out a light laugh. I hadn’t even realized we were starting similar dialogue. “I kinda like how that game ended, though.” I wrinkled my nose in jest while thinking of his body savoring mine on his family room sofa.
“Me, too.” He smiled back with a glint in his eyes. “All right, listen, there’s a burger and fries place or a deli with salads and sandwiches. They are both in the same complex. I can drop you off, get the kids, and pick you back up.”
That was not making it easier on him, which is what I intended the offer to be about in the first place. “That’s a lot of juggling around. I’ll just meet you at the house.”
He stuck his pointer finger up to my lips. “Shush. Judge Ryan has made a decision on transportation.” He did a quick smile and continued, “As long as either are safe for you, which eatery will it be?”
Glad he was still attempting to bring some levity to the situation, I offered some of my own. “Let’s flip a coin.”
“It’s always different with you.” He shook his head. “People still flip coins? Do you even have a coin?”
“Yeah, probably in my purse. Don’t you, money bags?”
He tsked at my impulsive nickname and said, “Hold on.” Walking over to his desk drawer, he pulled out a quarter. “Heads greasy, tails healthy.”
“Sure.”
He was ready to flip when he squinted one eye at me and said, “No best out of three or other variation. Whenever I lift my hand, that’s what it is ... not flipping it over after.”
“Okay!” I legitimately laughed. “Your siblings kept changing the rules on you?”
“Just making sure all the negotiations are in order.” He smiled. “By the way, thanks for not breaking our no-hugging contract.”
“I thought you might have seen that.”
“Oh, I did. And I was going to shatter some glass busting through that door had you not stuck your arm out.” He flipped the coin. “Heads, it is.”
***
Along with the burgers and fries, I bought a pie at the adjoining bakery for dessert. The kids and I enjoyed everything, but Ryan didn’t have the time to truly appreciate the food. He was on his phone for most of the evening.
“I’m gonna go,” I said after another one of his calls.
The kids were already asleep. And after a full day of a brand-new recording experience followed by the jolt of Kari’s news, I was growing tired, too. Besides, I knew I wasn’t much help to Ryan at that point. All he was doing was confirming or denying aspects of the incident to the media and other sources.
“I’m sorry,” Ryan offered legitimately.
“You don’t have to be,” I replied in the same tone. “I’m glad Kari’s all right and that you got to talk with her.”
And I meant it. Kari, after all, wasn’t giving us any grief. I certainly didn’t mean her any ill will.
“There’s just so much.” He semi-grunted.
“I get it. I’m gonna go home. I need some sleep.”
“Go upstairs,” he stated, as if I had missed the obvious.
“Tired,” I punctuated
the word to reiterate what my intentions in a bed were.
“I know.” He managed a chuckle and admitted, “So am I.”
It was my phone ringing that interrupted us that time. I was a little shocked, especially since it was getting to be fairly late in the evening. Seeing Willow’s name on the screen, though, I accepted my next-door neighbor’s call.
“What’s up, nextie?”
“Hey, Bethany. Exactly that,” she answered back. “I need you to do me a favor.”
“Okay. Sure, if I can.”
“Could you check to make sure my door is locked? You know how I am, running around last minute. Can’t remember if I locked it.” She laughed at herself.
And I laughed, too. That was so Willow. She led a very active life ... in and out all the time. It was amazing we ever formed a friendship since our schedules conflicted a lot.
“I’m sure it’s fine,” I reassured, knowing I couldn’t possibly do as my friend requested.
“Yeah, but make sure, okay?” she asked again.
“I ...” Oh, boy. “I can’t.”
“What? Why?” I thought her two little question words sounded a little leading, but maybe that was my paranoia.
“Because I’m not there,” I admitted.
“Yes!” she screeched, nearly making me jump. “I know. Because I am. Where are you? I’m not being all mother hen or anything, but where are you?”
“Willow!” Dang it, I should have known she wouldn’t have really cared if her door was locked or not—she was pretty easygoing. I had walked right into her little trap. “Geez. I’m out ... celebrating the recording.”
Ryan, who was leaning against the fireplace and looking at something on his phone, shifted his eyes at me. I shrugged my shoulders. There was some truth to what I told Willow, right?
“Yeah, yeah.” She sounded excited. “That’s why I’ve been dying to talk with you. How did it go? What did Mr. Mean think?”
My look at Ryan possessed a little bit of guilt ... as if he could hear the nickname Willow called him. She was so far off the mark. Those blue eyes zoned in on me again, and I tried a smile.
“It went well, and he wasn’t there.” But as I said it, “he” was coming to sit right next to me on the sofa.
“I heard his wife was attacked or something in Europe. It wasn’t much more than a headline. The article didn’t say a lot.”
“Yeah, I know.” I touched Ryan’s hand.
“They make a striking couple.” Before I could regurgitate something from my mouth as my stomach wanted to do, she continued, “Where are you? It’s so quiet. Doesn’t sound like a celebration. And why wasn’t I invited?”
“Sorry. Last minute.” When she didn’t say anything, I felt bad for not inviting her to my fake party since she was the only person, besides my immediate family, who even knew of the recording. I forged forward with the tale that was getting more and more made up as I went along. “It’s just a couple of us at a friend’s house ... from work. I’m probably going to stay over.” I did work with Ryan, but I knew Willow wasn’t going to think that.
“Oh,” she said simply. “What’s her name? Gracie? She’s the gay one, right?” Willow asked about the manager of the coffee shop.
“Yeah, that’s her name, but, Willow, geez, that’s not very politically correct.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to offend her or ...” Her pause seemed to have the inflection of realization. “You ...”
“Not me,” I tried to clarify, but I could see how she might think that with the vague information I had been giving her recently.
“Then, geez, Bethany, what is up with you?” Her exasperation was very evident.
There wasn’t a way for me to alleviate it right then, though. “I’m sorry, but I got to go. Okay? I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, okay. Whatever.” She hung up before an official good-bye.
“Well ...” I turned to Ryan and laid down my phone. “I just went from offending my best friend by not inviting her to a fictitious party to her thinking I’m gay.”
“What?” His eyelids narrowed.
“Yeah.”
“Would it help if I told you I don’t think you’re gay ... at all?” He managed to get a light laugh from me as he rubbed his hand along the side of my shirt-covered breast.
“I think you would be right, and it absolutely works to your advantage.”
“Indeed, it does.” He kissed me softly on the lips and then looked at his buzzing phone.
“She also thinks you and Kari make a striking couple.” I just couldn’t let that one go.
His shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry you’re being put in this position, Bethany. I know you hate it, and I don’t want to make you lie.”
“You are worth silence and a little twisting of words, Ry.” I also knew my friendship with Willow could withstand a frustrated, confused phone call.
He slowly closed and opened his eyes, indicating his appreciation. “I’m glad you came here tonight. Looking over and seeing you? It helped me.”
“You’re welcome.” I touched his smooth cheek with my hand before kissing him.
“Come on.” He patted my leg, grabbed my hand, and stood both of us up. “Screw the rest of these calls. I’m not her press manager. All I need to know is that she is safe, the kids are good, and you are sleeping beside me tonight.”
And that’s what we did. He changed into a pair of sweats and then gave me one of his tank tops so I could curl into him in only that and my undies. His arm never felt more secure and his gentle kiss good night never more thankful. And shortly after, when I heard his breathing turn to the low whistle I had come to know as Ryan’s sleeping, I knew we both had found the perfect ending to our twisted day.
Chapter Ten
I was walking around Ryan’s custom game room and only peeking every so often at the music manager himself. My feelings were similar to when I received that initial tweet from him and when I had anxiously awaited his thoughts during our first meeting. Ryan and I had evolved a lot since then, but because of that, I valued his opinion even more. I wanted to do right by him. That’s why listening to the recording of my demo that Monday evening was like minor torture. To me, that was. Ryan seemed perfectly content sitting and tapping his foot while I paced.
“What are you doing?” His eyebrows intersected while looking at me from across the room. “Come here. Come over here.” When I scrunched my nose and shook my head slightly, he lightly admonished me. “Bethany ...” And when I still didn’t move in his direction, he got up and playfully attacked my sides before lifting and guiding me to the carpeted floor.
Laughter helped release some of the nervous, anticipatory energy from my body. With him smiling and planked above me, I said, “I see those wrestling skills come in handy.”
He pecked me a couple of times on the lips before saying, “If I’d had such beautiful opponents in high school, I probably would have kept up with it.”
“Flatterer ... and I think the injuries might have had something to do with that.”
“Way to ruin a compliment.” He tsked. “The songs are good, Lenay. They sound good.” He emphasized the last word, tucked some of my loose hair behind my ear, and brought his chest up so he was kneeling in between my legs.
“I think you might be biased at this point.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” I was a little impressed he admitted it until he immediately followed through with, “You mean because I basically wrote them, right?”
Rising, I gave him a swift but light push on his chest. “That wasn’t what I meant,” I denied with a quick laugh.
He laughed, too. “I might be a bit biased, but they are good. I can’t wait to pitch them.”
“Mmmm-hmmm.” I was still trying to comprehend artists listening to my songs, nonetheless, potentially making them theirs.
I didn’t realize my nose had scrunched again until Ryan brought his finger to touch it. “Stop it.” He leaned down again to kiss me.
�
��Joe-Joe, incoming!” I heard the little boy declare before pouncing on his father’s back and, with the domino effect, consequently me.
My laughter was much more legit that time. And Ryan’s smile was enormous as he pulled his son in between the two of us and peppered him with pokes to his little belly. Suddenly, I didn’t care if he was biased if it meant such pure happiness.
***
Despite his reassuring that everything was all right, I couldn’t help but feel a little apprehensive while sitting in the cemetery just a few blocks from my apartment. Ryan had texted about forty minutes earlier asking if I could meet him there. While we were solidly in that stage of finding an excuse to text or call one another every day, because of schedules and obligations, we didn’t actually see each other at the same frequency. And the last-minute request to meet was surely perplexing, especially since we had planned on me coming over to his place for dinner later that night.
“Hi.” His deep voice sounded smooth as he sat on the wood bench next to me.
Ryan was visually scanning the surroundings. I knew it was because he wanted to make sure there weren’t any onlookers, gossipers, or, worse yet, press. But we had decided on the cemetery for just that reason. The potential was slim. Although public, it was also secluded and not terribly popular, especially on a Wednesday afternoon. Still, he refrained from sitting too close to me. And I had to resist touching him, even though the strong invisible magnetism was certainly pulling me that way.
“Hi,” I echoed with a sigh. “What’s with meeting up?” I asked, trying to get my mind off my secret life. “The location isn’t foretelling, is it?”
“I hope not,” he answered. “There’s good news and bad news. What do you want first?”
“Oh, geez. I knew it.” I took in a deep breath—of course there had to be bad news.
“Bethany, good or bad first? I’m gonna tell you both.”
“Flip on it,” I suggested.
“I figured.” He shook his head and produced a coin.
“You have a quarter?”
“It’s our quarter, and I decided to keep it in my wallet just for you—just in case you can’t make a decision and go all old-school with determining an outcome.” My belly rolled in silent laughter as he named the sides. “Heads good news, tails bad news?”