Beyond the Stars

by Stacy Wise

  “Great. We went on a walk, had some lunch, and I taught him how to sit.”

  “No shit.” He sets his helmet on the center island.

  “Yeah. He’s a smart pig.”

  Jack smiles at me. “Thanks again for your help.” He raises his shoulders and rubs his hands together. “Man, it’s cold and dark out there. I’m still not used to the time change.”

  I look out the window. The shorter days that lead to winter make me want to snuggle up with someone special and drink hot cocoa. “Yeah. I guess I’d better get home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Yep.” He high fives me, giving my hand more of a squeeze than a slap. I haven’t seen him do that to anyone else. Maybe it’s his special high-five for girls. Whatever. I don’t know what made me give it a second thought.

  I start my car and head down the driveway. As soon as the gate opens, I see a car blocking my path. Before I can process why it’s there, a guy with an enormous camera jumps out, snapping pictures. I throw my car into park and cover my head with my hands. The freaking paparazzi again! He doesn’t want photos of me. I should get out and tell him that I’m no one, but I’m scared. It’s like I’m under siege.

  He bangs on my window. “Hey, are you Jack’s flavor of the month? What’s your name?”

  I stay covered and shout, “Get away from my car. I was delivering a pizza.” The sound of an alarm startles me so much that I bump my head on my steering wheel. The gate has been open too long for Jack’s sensitive alarm system, and is now blaring. Shit. “Get your car out of the way! If you don’t move it right now, I’m calling the police!”

  “Just answer some questions for me. What kind of pizza did Jack order? Are you dessert?”

  I hear Jack’s motorcycle thunder down the driveway before I see it. He’s wearing his full black helmet, so I can’t see his face. He pulls his bike right up to the guy, getting so close I’m terrified he’s going to run over him. “You need to move your car.” Jack closes in on the guy with his motorcycle, like a dog herding a wayward sheep. I can barely watch. One false move by either of them and this could get really ugly.

  The guy grasps his camera to his chest. “Get your fucking motorcycle off me. I’m not on your property. How’s Corinne Dahl?”

  “Get out of here,” Jack says. I’m shocked he’s not screaming. He seems unusually calm.

  “Are you and Nichole Antocci getting together?” he shouts.

  I yell out my window. “Get out of my way, or I’m going to run you over. I already told you, I was delivering a freaking pizza. Now move!”

  The camera shutter flashes in rapid succession. I throw my arm in front of my face and rev my car. The guy gives me a startled look and rushes to the driver’s side of his own car, diving in. “I’m just trying to make a living!” he shouts.

  He hauls ass down the street, and I try to catch my breath. Jack holds a hand in the air. I return the wave and inch forward out of the way of the gate, trying to ignore the fact that my foot is shaking as I step on the accelerator. Before I can turn onto the street, he pulls his bike to the side of my car. “You should come up to the house. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to leave right now.”

  He has a point. I nod and wait for him to cruise up the driveway before I make a three-point turn and follow. Emotions flood through me, and I pat my leg, hoping it’ll make my foot stop shaking. I try to gather myself before I step out of the car.

  He walks over. “I’m sorry about that, Jess. Are you okay?”

  “No, I’m not okay,” I say, anger storming through me. “That guy was an ass.”

  “Come on, let’s go in for a minute.”

  We walk in silence until we reach his great room where he sinks onto the couch that faces the grand fireplace I admired my first day here. My palms hurt from digging my nails into my skin. I unclench my fists and shake my hands. He taps the spot next to him on the couch, but I’m in no mood to sit.

  “That was unbelievable,” I say, pacing. “Who is he to camp out in front of your house? Can’t you call the police or something?”

  Jack stands and gently places his hands on my shoulders. “Hey. It’s okay,” he says, forcing me to look him in the eye. “Calling the police won’t help. They’ve done it before, and they’ll do it again. You know that. The important thing is you’re safe now.” He runs his hands down the length of my arms. I allow myself to focus on the calming feel of his hands on me.

  I let out a breath. “He made me feel vulnerable. I didn’t like it,” I say, letting my head fall to his chest as he pulls me in for a hug.

  He lets go and laughs. “You didn’t seem too vulnerable when you went off on him. I think you shocked the shit out of him. You sure as hell took me by surprise.”

  I offer a hint of a smile. “And you were shockingly calm. You didn’t even swear at him.”

  “I’m trying. I figured if I could get him to move without my getting pissed, I’d be better off. And then Ms. Badass got involved.” He pauses. “Did you really tell him you were delivering a pizza?”

  I nod. “It was the first thing that came to mind.”

  “A CIA agent, Lara Croft, a pizza delivery person, and my assistant. Very nice.”

  “I’m a woman of many talents.” I sigh. “That guy was much more aggressive than the other dude. I guess there’s always someone.”

  “True. Sometimes it’s a fan who recognizes me when I’m driving. I’ve had someone almost crash into me because she was trying to get a picture of me with her phone. Some of the paparazzi are bigger assholes than others. That guy probably followed me back from the photo shoot.”

  “I have no idea how you handle it.”

  He shrugs. “I’m a work in progress. You, on the other hand, handled yourself beautifully. You were amazing.”

  “I don’t know what came over me. Maybe I took out all my anger and frustration on that guy.” I press my hands to my face and try to shake the swirling thoughts from my head.

  I feel Jack looking at me. “Do you have other stuff going on?”

  I turn to him. “It’s fine. Nothing I can’t handle.”

  He tilts his head. “I’m here if you want to vent. I’ve got your back, okay?” When I don’t answer, he says, “I’m not going to pry, but if something’s bugging you, it’s okay to tell me.” He laughs. “You know the dirty details of all my shit.”

  I attempt a smile. “Everything’s good. I should probably go now. I’m sure he’s not waiting around for me.”

  Jack pauses. “I don’t know. Every time I think I’ve got those guys figured out, they surprise me.” He looks over at Leo, who is sound asleep on the cool tile in front of the fireplace. “I’ve got nothing going on tonight. I’d feel better if you hung out for a while. We can make pizza. I’m suddenly craving it.” He smiles.

  There’s no rush getting to the sorority house. And to be honest, I don’t want to leave just yet. “Pizza does sound good. Can I help make it?”

  “Yep. Do you want to roll out the dough or cut up some veggies?” he asks as we walk to the kitchen.

  “Veggie pizza? Isn’t pizza supposed to be junk food?”

  “Hell, no. Not the way I make it.”

  I roll my eyes. “Okay. I’ll chop the vegetables. Can we not use eggplant, though? I can’t eat it.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “Texture. It’s like eating a dolphin. I can’t do it.”

  “You’ve eaten dolphin?”

  “No, but I’ve pet one at Sea World, and that’s exactly what cooked eggplant feels like, all smooth and rubbery.”

  He raises an eyebrow at me. “You’re in luck. I don’t have any eggplant. I don’t like it, either,” he deadpans. “Too much like Flipper.”

  I sock him playfully in the arm.

  “How about bell peppers? I have the red and yellow kind. Are they okay, or do they remind you of sea creatures?”

  “Bell peppers are great.”

  He opens the fridge and pulls out the bell peppers
, plus Roma tomatoes, mushrooms, and fresh basil. “Here you go. I’ll grab you a cutting board.”

  “Thanks. Can I ask you something?”

  He passes the cutting board to me. “Sure. What’s up?”

  I take the board and start chopping the peppers. “Why is the press so bent on making you look like a…”

  “Like a total player? A man whore?” he asks in a ridiculous voice as he rolls dough.

  “Yeah.”

  He pauses. “I shouldn’t joke about it. But sometimes it helps to laugh at shit. The truth is, when I first became famous, when Stolen Hearts was killing it at the box office, I went a little crazy. All of a sudden, I went from having a shitty agent who sent me out on shit jobs to people like Marnie banging down my door, wooing me.”

  I laugh. “I can’t see my aunt wooing.”

  “Nah. She didn’t waste her time taking me for drinks. She told me straight up her plans for my career. That’s why I went with her. She’s awesome.”

  I nod. “She is awesome. It runs in the family.”

  Jack stops mid-roll and turns to me, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed the awesomeness, Jess.”

  “Yeah. Everyone sees the awesomeness that is Aunt Marnie,” I say with a grin.

  “I was talking about you.” He turns back to the dough and gives it one more good roll while I stare at the vegetables, marveling that I didn’t just chop off a finger. “You almost done there?” he asks.

  “Just about.” I focus on cutting the last bell pepper as Jack spreads fresh tomato sauce on the dough. I take a breath and say, “So just because you were the hot new thing they decided to come after you? That doesn’t make sense.”

  He sprinkles on handfuls of cheese and says, “No. There was a lot of hype because of the success of the movie. But I played into it. I was going out every night, hooking up with girls, and not really caring whether the paparazzi were snapping photos.”

  I start placing the peppers on the pizza dough, making a pattern. I’m sure I look like I’m concentrating on getting them on just so, but the reality is I’m thinking about Jack hooking up with a new girl every night. “So you got a reputation as a partier.”

  “Yep. Partier, player, bad boy—you name it. I’m not going to lie. It was all true. But then I got my head on straight. I didn’t like the image I was creating, you know? So I stopped. But the paparazzi still hound me. They know putting my picture on the cover sells magazines.

  “Well, you handled yourself tonight.”

  “Yep. You must have a calming effect on me.” He claps his hands together. “All right. Let’s let this cook. I’m hungry.”

  “Me, too.” I realize the hollow feeling in my stomach might be from hunger. I was blaming it on stress, but I haven’t eaten much today. And at the moment, I don’t feel any stress at all. I feel kind of happy.

  Leo’s hooves click against the floor as he prances into the kitchen. “Hey, buddy,” I say. “You smell the pizza?”

  Jack grabs the remnants of the bell peppers. “Let’s take him out back and give him these. No fair if we get all the good stuff.”

  I sink into the upholstered patio chair and watch as Leo snuffles the peppers from Jack’s hand. “I imagine you were pretty shocked when Leo arrived. What’d Candice Esperanza do? Leave him on your doorstep?”

  “She had a courier service deliver him.”

  “Were you mad?”

  Jack sits on the ground next to Leo, rubbing his back. “You read the note. What do you think?”

  “I think I would’ve been upset.” I pause. I’ve been dying to ask him why he told Francine Allen that Candice gave him Leo as a nice gesture. It doesn’t make sense that he didn’t let the world know what a bitchy, irresponsible thing she did when he had the chance. “So why’d you lie for her at your interview?”

  His hand stops rubbing Leo’s back, midstroke. “Lie for her? Are you kidding me? I wasn’t lying for her. I was running damage control. Do you think it was my idea to bring Leo to the set?”

  “I assumed so, yeah.”

  He shakes his head. “I was following my publicist’s strict orders. We had a mess to clean up.”

  “Yeah. I saw a few of the stories.”

  “So did the rest of the free world. The truth is, Candice and I met at an awards show. I thought she was really cool. And she’s beautiful. I asked her out. After only a few dates, I was falling for her. But then it got to the point that she only wanted to talk about her career. It became pretty clear that being seen with me was her ticket to taking her career to the next level.”

  “So she was using you?”

  “Yeah. I wasn’t going to hang around for that. She called me a few times, and I ignored her. Then we ran into each other at a party. I was with another girl, and she went crazy. Like, a full-on tantrum. It was embarrassing.”

  “And those are the photos that were all over the magazines.”

  “Yep. Candice’s publicist is a bulldog. He went straight to his favorite tabloid, and they ran a bullshit story that sounded legit because of the quotes from inside sources about how heartbroken she was. Inside sources who make shit up. I was the heartbroken one, not her. They put that quote by a photo of her crying at the party. Her publicist created a situation where she’s now America’s Sweetheart, and I’m the Lothario who broke her heart. The tabloids loved it. For the next month, I was on a ton of covers.”

  I nod, thinking. “Like the ones someone sent you that day?”

  “Yeah.” He looks at me. “My sister sent those to me. She was upset. It made me realize even more that I have to be careful all the time.”

  I hesitate, knowing I shouldn’t ask, but I can’t help myself. “You mean like being careful so they don’t catch you when you’re hooking up? Like with those Vegas girls on the magazine cover?”

  “I didn’t hook up with them. They came up to me, telling me they couldn’t believe they were actually meeting me, and a bunch of other flattering shit. They started climbing all over me, and I’m thinking, why not? They’re hot girls. But that’s where the real story ends. They got their pictures, and I took off. But the story says I took them to my room and had a night of fun. I don’t give a shit, because I know what’s real and what isn’t, but my sister saw it and thought I’d turned into a complete fuck-up. So when I say I need to be careful, I mean that I need to be aware of how things can get spun.”

  The timer buzzes, and he stands to go into the house. “Come on. Dinner’s ready.”

  I follow him into the kitchen, absorbing his words.

  Jack clicks off the timer and pulls the pizza out of the oven using a giant metal spatula. He turns to set it on a wooden cutting board. I look at him, just a regular guy in his kitchen, making a pizza. All this time I’ve been trying to make him fit his star image, like the piece of a puzzle that just won’t fit. Now I know why it wouldn’t ever fit. It’s distorted.

  He lays two perfectly cut slices onto each plate and passes one to me. “Cheers,” he says, holding up a slice.

  “Cheers.” I take a bite of the pizza.

  He gazes at me with a rare look of trust in his eyes. “Thanks for listening. Sometimes I want to tell everyone to fuck off and get a life. Sometimes it’s lonely. I know that’s gotta sound crazy, because I’m surrounded by people. I could hang out with a new girl every night if I wanted, but it wouldn’t be real. They’d think I’m just a character from one of my movies.” He pauses, grabbing another slice of pizza. “I don’t know why the hell I’m dumping all this on you.”

  “It’s okay. You’ve gotta vent to someone, right? I think I’d be a terrible famous person.”

  “What do you want to be, by the way? What are you studying?”

  “I’m majoring in French.” I say it automatically. I’m still thinking about how he could hang out with a new girl every night but doesn’t. And I wonder if he’s still dating Corinne Dahl.

  “Hence the trip to France.”

  �
�Yep. I still want to go. Maybe it’ll have to be after I graduate, though.”

  He looks thoughtful for a moment. “What do you do with a French major?”

  “I could teach French, or become a translator.” I pause. “But I think I wanted to major in French so I would become perfectly fluent. I have this fantasy that I’ll go to a pastry school in Paris. I would love to open up my own specialty cake shop. That’d be amazing.” I smile at the thought of it, but a piercing squeal from Leo startles me. Jack calls him over, but he won’t come.

  Seconds later, a loud rumbling tears through the night. Is the photographer back, this time on a freaking freight train? Jack and I look at each other, and we realize what’s happening at the same time. It’s not a train. It’s an earthquake. Jack is by my side in an instant, yanking me under the table with him. “Cover your head!” I do what he says and close my eyes. It feels like someone is using a jackhammer beneath us. His hand lands on my back. It reassures me. I feel protected in the midst of wanting to fall apart. I count in my head, hoping the shaking will end before I get to ten. The copper pots that hang in the kitchen bang together. Each loud clang rattles my nerves a little more. Poor Leo wails with fright. Something smacks the floor. I sneak a look and see it’s the cutting board Jack used for the pizza.

  And then nothing. No sound, no movement. Everything is still. I stay where I am, with my hands on my head, waiting for an aftershock. Jack rubs my back for a moment before he climbs out from under the table. Then he reaches his hand out to me. “Come on. It’s over.”

  I turn my head just enough to peek at him. He looks so calm. He doesn’t know how bad they can be because he’s from Kentucky. I bet he’s only experienced the small ones. This one felt like a four point one. It was bad, but I’ve felt worse. I’ve survived worse. We were celebrating Easter at my grandma’s house in Brawley when the Baja California quake hit. It scared the living hell out of me. I don’t ever want to feel a quake like that one again. It was a seven point two. I can’t imagine what it felt like right at the epicenter.