by Grea Warner
“Bethany ...” He cracked his neck.
“Come on, stop. You are stressing me out now, too. Turn around.”
“What?”
I gently prompted him to move so I could be a little more behind him. I wanted access to his upper back, neck, and the knots I knew were surely tight throughout. And I wasn’t wrong.
When I started kneading with my knuckles, I heard an appreciative moan escape his mouth. He let me continue on my mission for a little bit before turning and kissing me sweetly. I smiled and rubbed my hand along the side of his face, which was definitely more beard than stubble. Gosh, was I trying to like his new facial accessory. I wanted to ask if he and Kari had set up anything regarding the divorce announcement, but I knew it wasn’t the time. And from what it sounded like, they had hardly spoken unless passing off the kids. So, instead I went with that angle.
“So, you said the kids’ schedule. What’s going on with that? Kari’s still getting weekends ...”
He took a final gulp from his glass and set it back down—along with my hands, it seemed to be putting him in a more relaxed, sedentary state. “Yeah, it’s more stable for them to be in their home, have a routine, van picks them up for school. But these live shows ... I can’t keep bringing them. You saw them. They’re exhausted, and it lost its appeal halfway into the first show.”
I leaned my head onto his side. For one thing, it felt good just to be connected in silence with him like that. For another, I had an idea, and I needed to formulate it in my mind before I voiced it out loud.
“I don’t want to overstep ... just tell me,” I began.
He didn’t move, making me realize he liked the feeling of us, too. “Go ahead.”
“I’ll watch the kids. I can be here on Monday and Tuesday afternoons if you want.”
“You what?” He moved then. “Do you want to do that?” He was looking me directly in the eyes.
“Yeah. Like you said, they’ll have some stability. I’ll figure it out at work. I usually have early shifts anyway. The kids wouldn’t even have to go to daycare. I can be here when they get dropped off after school like they did when we were writing here. But I can only do it for the next couple weeks because I have my trip home for Ella’s graduation.” I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but whatever it was, he didn’t shy away from keeping his eyes on me. “I understand if you don’t feel comf—” I started when he hadn’t said anything.
“Of course I feel comfortable. And we can make those our days too, then.” He smiled peacefully and then added with a wink, “You can stay, and we can catch up.”
“We can.” I lightly chuckled. I hadn’t thought about that part.
“Are you sure you’re good with that? They can be a handful. I mean, I could—maybe should—ask Kari. But I ... You know what? I don’t want to. We have our arrangement.”
I most heartedly agreed. “I’m sure.”
“And I can compensate you whatever that hospital bill is.”
“Oh, no. No. I didn’t offer because—”
“I know,” he reassured with a soft rub of my arm. “But I would pay anyone who would watch them.”
“I’ll rescind my offer. I mean it.” I was adamant.
“Geez, you are a stubborn negotiator.”
I smirked a little and then eased into a smile. “Ry, I’m offering because of you. That’s all. Because it will help you and the kids, like you have me in so many ways.”
He was quiet again. And he had an even more serene yet intense gaze at me. Finally, he said, “What do you want, Bethany?”
“What do I want?” I repeated the question back, not understanding the context in which he was asking. I didn’t think it was accusatory or even in reference to our payment/nonpayment debate, but if not that, then what?
“I mean out of life,” he explained. “Life goals ... that kind of thing.”
Well, that was such a big, almost intense, subject all of a sudden. And one I wasn’t sure I even had the answer to. “Well, I ...”
I guess my uneasiness showed through because he took my hand and stroked it softly with his index finger. “It’s not an interview, Lenay.” Just by using that name, he eased my mind.
“I guess that answer has changed a lot. It depends on when you asked me.”
“Uh-huh.” His non-word was leading me to say more.
“I’m no longer the little girl in front of the mirror with the hairbrush up to her face belting out a song and thinking I am going to be the next Whitney Houston or Taylor Swift.”
Ryan’s eyebrows crinkled, and I suspect he was thinking of his part of that dream going away. “Betha—”
“I know, Mr. Mean, I know.” I used Willow’s nickname to lighten the mood. “I’m really okay with not being a star.” I touched his hand that time. “It’s not me. It never was. I don’t think I ever truly wanted to be on stage. I just wanted to feel and express myself. I love the idea of the whole thing ... the rush of being around it all. But I don’t want to be that person. That’s why I started looking for jobs on crew and such. That’s what got me out here. Trying out for Singer Spotlight? That was more or less peer pressure. But it was also my last straw. It did hurt to not make it,” I admitted, but he already knew that. “But mostly because I knew I had to give it all up here ... maybe even altogether. I was thinking of going back home and being a teacher. I don’t know how many more credits I would need to teach music or something.”
“But now? What about now?”
He was still looking at me intensely ... listening to my words, possibly reflecting. It did feel a little like an interview. But most likely the alcohol and unwinding from stress were also contributors to his demeanor.
“Honestly, I don’t want to teach. I want to create ... behind the scenes.”
“No glitz and glamor?”
“No,” I answered immediately and saw the look on his face instantly relax.
It was only then when I started to put together the line of questioning. Kari wanted all of the lights ... the cameras ... the attention. And look what had happened. Was that what the late evening, casual interrogation was all about?
“No,” I reiterated and pushed my head just slightly closer to his. “This is what I wanted all along, and I don’t think I ever knew it completely until now.”
“Including sitting on a sofa with a divorcee who has two kids?” While he asked it in a joking manner, I knew he did want a truthful response. What Ryan questioned was his weak spot ... where he thought he had failed—the divorce.
“Well, the kids are great. Their dad, though? I don’t know,” I said in an obvious teasing voice, and Ryan rolled his eyes. I left him off the hook fairly quickly, though. “Ryan ... absolutely, yeah.”
His mouth on mine tasted like the sweet alcohol he had been drinking. I didn’t mind. He was kissing me his appreciation. And I was kissing mine back for him asking me those questions ... for wanting to know what I wanted and where I wanted to be.
His stifled yawn immediately after, though, led to more of my teasing. “I’m gonna try hard not to take that personally.”
He touched my face. “Sorry.”
“You’re tired. You need to go to sleep.”
“I’m not.”
I couldn’t resist. I made my Judge Ryan face and mimicked him from earlier with his son. “Fine, Ryan. Whatever. You stay up. When you’re miserable tomorrow, there’s not going to be any treats.”
He squinted at me and sighed but was a good dad to the core. “He’s probably passed out on the floor. I should go check on him.”
When he started to stand up, I pushed on his thigh, urging him to stay seated. “I’ll go. Sit. Relax. Okay?”
To my surprise, he smiled, nodded, and let me go check on Joel. And just as Ryan had predicted, I found the four-year-old sprawled out on his bedroom floor. Toys were scattered around and under him. Luckily, the slumbering little boy was already in his pajamas and was easy to coax the couple of feet to his bed and under the cov
ers.
When I got back downstairs, Ryan was not sprawled on the floor, but he was just like his son ... sound asleep. “Not tired.” I laughed, shook my head, and pecked him on the lips.
“Hmmm ...” he murmured.
“Do you want me to tuck you in, too?”
“Without ... a ... ques ... tion,” he spat out groggily.
I didn’t want to wake him up enough, though, to get him up the stairs or even to the guest room down the hall. He needed the sleep. So, I grabbed the plaid blanket that was draped across the side chair, encouraged him to stretch out on the sofa, and curled myself and the blanket on top of him.
“No place I’d rather be.”
I thought I had said that as an internal monologue, but I got an answer along with an extra squeeze from his secure arm. “Yeah. Good night, Lenay.”
“Good night, Ryan.”
Chapter Thirteen
The next time I saw him was two days later, and it was in his office. It was a last-minute decision on Ryan’s part ... and it was a complete ruse. Near closing time, I was pretending to meet with him regarding some kind of business. In actuality, he was going to drive us to an obscure beach location where we would picnic. Ryan really wanted us to have some kind of date that did not involve his house. And since Kari was picking up the kids at daycare and had them for the weekend, it seemed ideal.
When Anamaria told me to go directly into his office, I tried to act all professional, but it was getting harder and harder not to melt when I saw Ryan. Never mind the color of his eyes, it was the way they looked so deep into me. It was knowing how he felt that did me in every time.
“Mr. Thompson.” I had to clear my throat.
“Miss Opala.” He stood up from behind his desk. “Have a seat.”
“Okay.” I did so, putting my guitar case down ... which didn’t house an instrument but, instead, a change of clothes.
When Ryan immediately reclaimed his seat across from mine, I was shocked. I expected since he had gotten up that he was going to shut the door as he normally would have. But since he didn’t, Anamaria—although a good few feet away at her desk—had the potential of hearing our conversation.
“The reason I called you in today is ...”
His mouth and eyebrows rose at the same time, and I scrunched mine at him. Were we playing out the little act? All right. I was game. Kind of fun. Let’s just make sure we get to that secluded picnic at the beach soon.
“There was interest in your demo.”
“What?” I said, almost not hearing him. Then when I realized I, indeed, had heard him correctly, I spoke a little louder, “What?” When Ryan lifted his eyebrows again, I let down part of my veil and called him by his first name ... although more quietly. “Ryan, you better not be messing with me.”
“Miss Opala ...” He seemed quite amused and was good at keeping up the masquerade. Of course, he had plenty of practice in that field. “I would not mess around ... with music or anything else.”
I caught his extra little meaning, and my eyes widened on the truth of everything he was telling me. “For real, Ryan? What?”
“Finn Murphy—"
“The country singer?”
“Yes.” He let out a soft, short chuckle. “Are you going to let me finish?”
“Uh-huh. Do I need to stay seated?” I wasn’t sure I could. That man still made me think I was going to pee my pants!
Ryan looked quite amused. “No, you can stand or whatever you need to do.”
I stood up, began pacing, and then managed another, “Uh-huh.” So much for being a prolific songwriter if that was the only word I could say.
“Listen, he didn’t mention a specific song. He just said he would be interested in hearing anything you have. Remember when I told you to keep writing?” When I nodded in affirmation, he continued, “You’ve done that, right?” Ryan knew I had. Maybe “Mr. Thompson” had not.
“Yeah,” I answered regardless.
“He is going on his summer tour soon and just released an album not too long ago. So, it might be a little while, but he likes your stuff.”
“O ... kaaay.” I didn’t even get a whole connected word out that time.
“Lenay,” he let his special name for me slip, but I don’t think he cared. The smile on his face told me so. He then continued, “He’ll be in contact. Just give it a little time. No commitments on anything. I’m still shopping around. He knows that. It might put a little fire under him.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“You said that.” There was his smile again.
“Is that it?” I think I managed to quit pacing. I was going to have to turn over any profits from a song sale to buy him new carpet ... it was going to be so worn out.
“Yes.”
“Ry—” I stopped myself, even though I knew I had called him by his first name plenty of times at the office.
“Come on.” He stood up. “Do you need a ride? I know you usually walk.” He was gathering up his things.
I kept up with the plan. “I ... yeah.” And I picked up the guitar case.
When we walked out of his office, I guess my beaming bright face wasn’t concealed at all since Anamaria questioned me. “Good news?”
“Uh, yeah,” I answered.
“Congratulations. Ryan is the best.”
“He is.” And I resisted the urge to touch his hand.
Ryan directed his comment to his secretary. “You’re just saying that so I tell you you can go home for the night.”
“It is Friday,” she noted their unofficial early release day.
“Then you can also go home for the weekend.”
“You are too generous, Ryan.” She smirked. “I have a little more to finish up, and then I’m going.”
When we were walking to the elevator, I could hardly stand still, and Ryan was shaking from trying to control his laughter. I couldn’t wait to get into the elevator. I couldn’t wait to be—
“Oh, darn it!”
Ryan actually burst out a vibrating gust of air on my reaction as the elevator doors welcomed us ... along with a handful of passengers. He did an upward nod to the group, and we joined them, remaining quiet for the entire passage down to the garage floor. As the collective group scattered to their individual cars, Ryan and I got into his.
“Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!” I screamed the instant both of our car doors were shut. “Why did you do that to me?” I asked as Ryan let out a full-hearted laugh. “Why didn’t you just tell me in private?”
“It was business,” he stated.
“It was cruel.”
“It was fun.” He raised his eyebrows. “What was that comment about when the elevator first opened, Lenay?”
He knew what the comment was about, but I answered in a seductive way, nonetheless. “I wanted to thank you.”
“And now?”
When I looked out my side window and through the rear, Ryan understood my reason and concern. His prime parking spot, so close to the elevator bank, meant we could be seen by any potential onlookers exiting the building. He turned on the car, put it in gear, and drove us to a section of the parking garage that had zero cars and limited chance of getting any at that point of the week. The instant the car was turned off again, I climbed onto Ryan’s lap, accidentally hitting the horn along the way. My giggling quickly subsided when Ryan pulled me closer to him and we began kissing.
“You’re very welcome,” Ryan said once we stopped. “But if you sit like this on my lap much longer ...”
“Okay.” I pecked him one more time on the lips and slid back onto the passenger seat. As Ryan restarted the car, I asked, “Are we really picnicking, or was that the actual ruse?”
“Yes. The beach. Absolutely.” He smiled and touched my hand once more before we drove into the natural light of Los Angeles. “Remember, nothing is set. It’s just interest.”
“I know. It’s still good news.”
“It is. So, we’ll pick up some food and ... Shoot, hold on,” he s
aid as the car speaker announced an incoming phone call.
Ryan answered and, because it was on speaker, I was privy to the entire conversation. It was the after-school daycare. They wanted Ryan to know Kari was there to pick the kids up.
“Yeah, that’s fine.” Ryan spoke to the daycare representative. “Of course.”
“Mr. Thompson? She’s quite ... well, Mrs. Thompson is acting very bizarre.”
“Oh.” He looked over at me—the smile was definitely gone as we listened again.
“We don’t feel comfortable letting Joel and Sallie go with her.”
“All right.” He sighed. “I’m on my way. It shouldn’t be too long. Don’t ... don’t let them go if you’re that concerned,” he directed.
What did “bizarre” mean? It had to be big for someone not to be given their own kids. It had to be very big considering who Kari Thompson was. Was she acting similar to how she had in Ryan’s foyer? That was my only encounter with her, so I had nothing else to go by.
“Thanks,” the person on the other end of the line said. “We’d rather you make that decision.”
“Yeah.” Ryan ended the call, made three sudden lane changes amidst horns blaring, and then looked at me. “What the heck?”
“Let’s just get there and find out,” I reassured.
Ryan tried Kari’s cell phone the entire time we were making our detour to the daycare, but he got no response. I know it frustrated him even more. In the meantime, I tried to remain calm and quiet in the passenger seat. He didn’t need any other white noise.
I made a similar decision when we arrived, too. Remaining in the car, I watched as Ryan approached Kari. Dressed in a glittery gold and hot pink top with similar wrap, she was talking with two other adults in front of the building.
I couldn’t hear the exacts of the conversation, but I did immediately see why the center had called Ryan. Kari looked visibly drunk. She was swaying and was even more disheveled than when I had seen her before ... besides the outfit. But who wore something like that to pick up their young children for the weekend?
Because it was getting stuffy in the car, I opened my door to get air. That was when I heard Ryan calmly tell the workers to have the kids come out. Kari looked at him and scoffed dramatically. But before anything else could unfold, Sallie and Joel—with their wide eyes looking from Mommy to Daddy—emerged from the building.