“What are you doing here?” she whispers through her pasted-on smile.
“He’s here for career day,” Carly says. “He mixed up the days a bit, but since he’s going back to L.A. tomorrow, I told him he could go ahead and talk to your students today.” She turns to walk back out the door. “I’ll leave you to it then.”
“Thank you,” I tell her. “I appreciate your help and I trust you can keep this a secret?”
“Can I get a picture with you on your way out?” she asks shyly.
“Of course.”
“Then consider my lips sealed,” she says with a huge smile before closing the door.
Mallory and I are left standing at the front of the classroom, her jaw still agape that I’d have the gall to show up. “Why are you here?”
I shrug. “You wouldn’t answer my text,” I say quietly.
“I answered you this morning,” she whispers.
“It wasn’t the answer I wanted.”
“Chad, you can’t just show up unannounced.”
“I didn’t. Ms. Blanchard announced me.” I wink at her. “Plus, I’ve heard sometimes you have to make a grand gesture in order to get noticed. And I’m not Chad today.” I motion to her students. “I’m Thad.”
“A grand what?” Her forehead forms these adorable wrinkles as she questions me.
I glance at the students who have all been very quiet as they watch us. I take it they aren’t used to visitors. “Well, come on, teacher,” I say. “It’s career day, are you going to introduce me or what?”
She looks over at the kids as if she forgot they were there. “Uh, okay. Class, this is Thad Stone. Thad is an actor and he’s going to talk to you for a little while about what it means to have a job like his.”
A boy raises his hand before I can get a word out. “Yes, Billy?” Mallory asks.
“You’re in that new movie, right? The one about the world ending? I’ve seen you on TV, only your hair was shorter and you were a lot dirtier.”
I laugh. “What you saw was called a movie trailer. That’s where they take bits and pieces of the movie and show it to you so you’ll want to come see it in the theater. Although it’s rated R, so I don’t think any of you should go. But if your parents want to go, that would be great. And all that dirt on my face and clothes is called makeup. Do you know it took a makeup artist an hour to make me look like that?”
“That’s cool,” Billy says. “Did you really jump out of that plane?”
“No, I didn’t. That was a stuntman. But they made him up to look like me, and in the movie, you can’t tell the difference. Sometimes I do my own stunts, like I had to rappel down the side of a mountain for another movie. It took me two weeks to learn how to do it. That’s part of the fun in acting. You get to do so many things and pretend to be a lot of different people.”
All the kids raise their hands. Mallory points to a girl in the back. “Yes, Jessica? What’s your question for Mr. Stone?”
“How many movies have you been in?” she asks.
“Five. But only three of them have been released so far. The other two have been filmed but aren’t in movie theaters yet. That’s why I’m here in New York, to promote the fourth film I did, Defcon One. My first movie was called Red Sky Rising. I had a very small part. I played the son of the main character, but I was only in three scenes. My next two movies were called I Never and Last Week. They were romantic comedies.”
“Like where you kiss girls?” Jessica asks.
I nod. “Yes, but I didn’t get to kiss any because I wasn’t the main character.”
“Yes, Ryan?” Mallory asks, pointing to a kid wearing a SpongeBob SquarePants shirt.
“What’s a main character?” Ryan asks.
“It’s the most important person in a movie.” I motion to his shirt. “Kind of like SpongeBob. He’s the main character of that TV show. In my new movie, Defcon One, I’m kind of like SpongeBob, but in the movie, Last Week, I was more like Squidward, who’s called a supporting actor.”
One by one the kids ask questions and I patiently answer every one as Mallory learns more about me than she would ever ask. I’m a fucking genius. She’s getting insight into the man she thinks she doesn’t know anymore. She’s getting to hear all the good stuff, and not just what the press thinks is a newsworthy story. She’s getting see my job is just like any other job, only I do it in front of millions of people. And as each minute passes, I see her become more and more relaxed.
But as time wears on, I realize I’ll have to leave soon and I’m not exactly sure what is supposed to happen next. I never got that far in my head. If I leave here without her commitment to see me again, I’m as good as yesterday’s news. She could just blow me off with another text. I’ve got to up my game. Hit her where she’ll feel it. Get her students on my side. I look around her classroom for ideas.
I spot what looks to be a fundraiser poster on the wall. One of those pictures of an empty thermometer and as they raise money, they color it in from the bottom up. It looks like they are pretty close to reaching their goal. “I have a question for one of you.” I look around the room, carefully choosing my subject as they all wonder who I’m going to pick. “SpongeBob, can you tell me what ‘Wishes for Kids’ is?”
Ryan’s face lights up when I choose him. “We collect money for kids who can’t come to school like us. Kids who have cancer and other bad stuff and sometimes they live at the hospital. They get to take trips to Disney World and stuff because they are sick.”
“Ahhh, I see.” I look around and pick another kid. “Jessica, right?” She nods shyly. “Can you tell me how much money you’ve raised?”
She walks up to the poster and points to the amounts down the side. “We have almost eight hundred dollars.”
“Wow, that’s great,” I say.
“I guess, but Ms. Ellison’s class is going to win the party,” she says with a frown.
“Jessica,” Mallory says. “Fundraising is not about winning. It’s about giving to others.”
“Yes, Ms. Schaffer.” She returns to her seat.
“Well, wait a minute,” I say. “Why can’t it be about giving to others and winning?”
“What do you mean?” Mallory asks me.
“Can anyone tell me how much money you need to get the party?”
The boy in the blue shirt, whose name I can’t remember, says, “My friend Joey said that Ms. Ellison’s class has almost a thousand dollars. That’s a lot.”
“And can someone else tell me when the fundraiser is ending?”
They all look at each other and shrug. Mallory says, “Friday. It ends this Friday.”
I reach into my pocket and get my wallet. I count my money. Five hundred and twenty-three dollars. I pull out everything but twenty-three and hand it to Mal. “You have a great class here and I’d hate for them to miss out on the party.”
She shakes her head at me, mouth agape as I stuff the money in her hand. “See now, I feel better already. I love helping people, don’t you guys?” The students all agree. “Doesn’t it feel good to help people, Ms. Schaffer?”
“Yes, it does,” she says.
“And sometimes when somebody does something nice for you, you want to do something nice in return, isn’t that so, Billy?”
He nods fervently.
“Well then, I have a little problem and I need some help,” I tell the class. “I have to go to this dinner tonight see, and I’m supposed to bring someone with me because everyone else who will be there will bring someone with them and I don’t want to be the only one who goes alone. I was hoping that Ms. Schaffer here would help me out. Do you guys think she should help me out? Don’t you think it will make her feel good to do that?” All the kids nod and tell her she should help me.
I look at the daily schedule on the wall and see it’s almost time for their lunch. “I’ve really enjoyed my time here with you guys. I hope you learned something about being an actor and maybe one day, some of you can become actors t
oo.”
“Please thank Mr. Stone for coming to speak with us today,” Mallory says.
All the kids do as she asks. “You’re welcome,” I say. “Thank you for having me, Ms. Schaffer. Pick you up at seven?”
We have a stare down. She bites her bottom lip the whole time. Then she rolls her eyes and blows out a sigh. “Fine,” she says.
I walk out the door, closing it before I jump up, pumping my fist in the air. Then I turn back around only to see Mallory peeking out her window after me. I give her a sailor’s salute and go on my way.
Chapter Eight
Mallory
I look around my bedroom at all the clothes strewn about. I must’ve tried on twelve different outfits. We’re just going to his brother’s house, so I decide not to dress up, finally settling on a nice pair of jeans and a light-green blouse that’s just tight enough to stress the buttons without showing too much cleavage. I finish the outfit with my favorite black ankle boots.
I look at myself from every angle in my floor-length mirror. Casual yet flirty. Do I want to look flirty? After all, I would never have agreed to this if he hadn’t strong-armed me in front of my class by making that generous donation. I roll my eyes thinking back on this morning. I never heard the end of it from Carly. She cornered me at lunch, wanting every detail about what happened in my classroom after she left. She showed me the picture of her and Chad that she took on his way out. I asked her to be discreet about it and she promised she would, but she also said that some of the mothers who were coming in to help with lunch had recognized him and their phones were clicking and videoing as he walked back to his car.
I hear a car door shut outside and all of a sudden, my stomach is in my throat. I feel sick. I haven’t been this nervous since the first day of my teaching job. That’s not true. I’ve never been this nervous. Will he think this is a date? I need to make it very clear upfront that it’s not.
I put on my pink lip gloss and grab my purse before heading down the stairs to find Chad talking to my dad. They both look up at me when they hear the heels of my boots click across the hardwood floor. Chad stops talking mid-sentence and his mouth hangs slightly open as he silently watches me descend the stairs. I can’t help feel a bit of an ego boost having him look at me this way. After all the women he’s been with. Beautiful actresses. Models. Yet he looks at me the way he is.
This is not a date, Mallory, I remind myself.
“Hi,” I say, reaching the bottom step.
“Hi, yourself,” he says back. “Wow, you look great, Mal.”
For a moment, I wonder what his reaction would have been if I’d worn the little black dress I tried on earlier. “Thanks, you look nice, too.” He’s wearing jeans as well, paired with a simple blue t-shirt and Doc Martens. The shirt he’s wearing brings out the color of his eyes, making them seem a shade brighter. His blonde hair is a bit unruly as if he’d recently run his hands through it. And despite the four-inch heels on my boots, he towers over me. I can see the allure. He looks like a movie star. My stomach does twists again. He is a movie star, Mallory.
“Nice to see you again, Mr. Schaffer,” Chad says, shaking my dad’s hand.
“Please, call me Richard. You’re not sixteen anymore.”
Chad laughs, looking me over again. “That I’m not.” He motions to the front door. “Are you ready to go?”
“Sure,” I say, grabbing my coat from the closet. Chad takes it from me and helps me put it on. “Bye, Daddy.”
“Bye, sweetheart. I won’t wait up,” he says with a wink.
I shoot my dad an angry glare. Then I don’t miss the smirk on Chad’s face. Once out the door, I tell him, “This isn’t a date, you know. Just one old friend helping out another.”
“Not a date,” he repeats. “Got it.”
We get to the car and I see the same guy who was here the other night. His bodyguard. He steps forward to open the back door, but Chad waves him off. “I got it,” he says. “Mallory Schaffer, I’d like you to meet Cole Wilcox.”
Cole offers me his gargantuan-sized hand. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Schaffer,” he says in a baritone voice that matches his size.
“It’s just Mallory,” I say, shaking his hand. “Nice to meet you, Cole.”
“The pleasure is all mine, Mallory.” He walks around to the driver’s side and gets in as Chad situates me in the back seat.
Then, to my surprise, Chad walks around the car and joins me in the back rather than sitting up front with Cole. He smiles at my reaction. “Ethan is stoked to see you again,” he says.
“I’m excited to see him, too.” He was several years older than me, so we didn’t hang out much, but Chad looked up to him and sometimes he would sneak us into R-rated movies.
“He’s married now. Has a kid and everything,” he says. “He’s happy.”
“I’m really glad to hear that. He deserves to be happy after everything he went through.” I shudder remembering the funeral of a girl taken far too soon and how much it wrecked Ethan.
“Kyle will be there, too,” he says.
“Really? Did he come with you for a visit?” I ask, wondering what it will be like to see the three of them together again after all this time.
“He lives here. He moved back to go to college and now he goes to med school at NYU.”
My jaw drops. “Kyle is going to be a doctor?” I ask. “Kyle—the kid who threw up at the sight of my blood when I fell off my bike and ripped my arm open?”
Chad laughs, his eyes lighting up at the memory. “I had forgotten all about that. We teased him for months,” he says. “Ethan and I would taunt him every time we got so much as a scrape.” He turns on the backseat light, nodding to my right arm. “Can you still see the scar?”
I push up my sleeve and hold my arm out so he can see the long, curvy, faded scar. He holds my arm up to the light as tingles race through me from his touch. He examines it from several angles. He traces the scar with his finger, making me catch my breath as the tiny hairs on my arm stand at attention. “I can still see the faint lines where some of the stitches were. Nine, right?”
My eyes shoot to his, surprised that he’d remember something that happened when I was eleven years old. “That’s right. What about you?” I motion to his foot. “You had me beat with your thirteen stitches. Can you still see yours?”
He puts down my arm and removes his left shoe and sock, showing me the jagged scar that was the result of a shoeless skateboard accident. I stare at his faded scar, longing to reach out and touch the soft skin on the top of his foot. What is so darn sexy about men’s feet?
“Interesting, don’t you think?” he asks, putting his shoe back on.
“What’s interesting?”
“How we both remembered exactly how many stitches the other had.”
I shrug. “Well, it was kind of traumatic for us. I mean, you were only nine when you had your accident.”
“That’s right, I was. And you were eleven when you had yours,” he says smiling. “And I remember asking my mother if you could go with me to get stitches because I knew if you were there it wouldn’t be so bad.”
“That’s why you wanted me to go with you?” I ask. “I thought you needed me to tell the doctors what happened.”
“Nah.” He shakes his head. “I just wanted you there with me. I always wanted you there.”
Feeling a bit uncomfortable with how he’s looking at me, I change the subject back to Kyle. “So who’s Kyle bringing tonight?” I ask. “Is he married, too?”
Chad snorts. “Married to his job, maybe. As a fourth-year med student, he pretty much spends all of his time at the hospital.”
“But you said everyone going tonight was bringing someone.”
“Shit,” he says, looking guilty. “I guess you got me there. I may have embellished the truth a bit. But in my defense, there will be three other guys and three other girls there, so I didn’t want to be the odd man out.”
“So who’s the girl you paired w
ith Kyle?”
“My publicist, Kendra. She’s great. You’ll love her. In fact, I think you’ll get along with all the women there.”
Rather than be pissed that he lied to me, I’m relieved that not everyone else there is part of a couple. Makes this whole ‘not a date’ thing more plausible. “Who else is going?” I ask.
“Ethan’s wife’s best friend and her husband.”
The car comes to a stop and Cole gets out to open my door. Chad exits the car behind me. “We’ll be several hours, Cole. Go get yourself some dinner and I’ll text you when we’re ready.”
I look up at the tall building on a very nice street in Midtown as the car pulls away from the curb. “Cole doesn’t need to come in with you?” I ask.
“We’re good. The building has security,” he says. Then a group of girls passing by see Chad and start screaming.
They run up to him, completely ignoring my presence. “Thad! Thad! Oh, my God. I heard you were in New York.”
“Can I get a picture, Thad? I love you!”
“Oh my God! Thad Stone! Can you sign this?” one says, shoving a piece of paper at him.
A few more people hear the screams of the girls and stop to see what’s going on. In a matter of ten seconds, a small crowd has gathered, all wanting a piece of him.
He turns to me, guilt on his face. “I’ll just be a minute,” he says, motioning to the door of the building. “I’ll meet you inside.”
The doorman lets me inside and I turn to watch Chad spend the next few minutes posing for pictures and signing autographs. He smiles at them, but it’s not authentic. It’s strained. Not like the smile I remember when we were kids. Not like how he looked at me when he saw me tonight. More people come up the sidewalk and he quickly ducks into the building, looking a bit frazzled.
Stone Promises (A Stone Brothers Novel) Page 7