Protecting Rayne

by Emily Bishop

  James slapped his hand onto the actor’s shoulder and mimicked his action. “I beg you to try. I fucking beg you.” James had been on the football team, he’d boxed in his spare time, and he’d been a track star.

  But Jarryd’s muscle spoke of practical experience, and I’d witnessed his strength firsthand.

  Either way, I wasn’t interested in finding out who’d win in a fight between Batman and the Joker. “Stop it,” I said, strident. “This is a family establishment, and you’re ruining everyone’s evening.”

  “Hear that?” Jarryd said and cocked his head toward me. “It’s time for you to leave.” He balled his free hand into a fist. “Or do you need another incentive?”

  “Give me one.”

  “That’s enough!” It came out as a desperate shriek, this time.

  The office door slapped open in the corner, and Jerr marched out, toting a sawed-off shotgun. He leveled it at the two of them and a round of gasps, followed by total silence, ensued. “Yo,” Jerry yelled.

  The two men looked at him then at each other then at him again.

  “Are you for real?” James asked.

  “I’ve had just about enough of this damn circus tonight. You,” he said, and gestured to James with the sawed-off, “can get out of my establishment.”

  “Are you—?”

  “Now, princess!” Jerr jerked the sawed-off toward him, and the patrons in the restaurant ducked and yelped, exchanging glances. All except Felicity, who tapped on the screen of her cell and rolled her eyes.

  What had she meant by “typical?” Did Jarryd usually get into fights like this?

  “Fine,” James said and finally let go of the actor. He stepped back, dropping his arm. “But I’ll be seeing you again.” He nodded to Jarryd then cast that iced gaze in my direction. “And you, too.”

  “You heard the man,” Jarryd said. “Get out.”

  James ignored the words but marched out regardless, and let the door slam shut behind him.

  “That goes for you, too, Marlon Brando.” Jerr relaxed slightly but didn’t put down the shotgun. “You and your troop of monkeys. Out of my restaurant, now.”

  Jarryd jerked back, blinked then bobbed his chin once. He glanced at me, too, and I couldn’t quite place the look or what it meant, only that his eyes swam with something unspoken. A promise?

  The actor beckoned to Luke, not to Felicity then made for the exit, cutting a refined image even now, back straight.

  They left in a row, Felicity’s heels clicking on the boards, and the door swung shut behind them.

  “All right,” Jerr said and hefted the gun. “Is there anyone else who wants to make an fool of themselves? Anyone?” The patrons averted their eyes or shook their heads. “Good. Now, eat your damn food and enjoy yourselves.”

  I sank back against the side of the bar and pressed my hand to my forehead. What the hell have you gotten yourself into, girl?

  Chapter 13

  Jarryd

  Polished RVs sat lot by lot in the park, like ducks in a row. If the RVs were ducks, the people bustling around them were ducklings, moving quick and quackin’ away. Barely past nine in the morning, and folks moved between trailers. Women and men, cleaning up last night’s barbeque or scrubbing down the outside of their vehicles. A man lugging a case here, or the twitch of a curtain there. Folks came and went in the park.

  Some engines rumbled, while others were still. This was a place of transience, and it made the knot in my chest tighten.

  Aurora could leave whenever she wanted, and she wouldn’t look back. My behavior last night had probably made the case stronger for her to do hightail it out of Moondance without a backward glance.

  Christ, I wish I could leave whenever I wanted. Drop all the responsibilities and get the fuck out. But that would make me no better than my father, and I wouldn’t let that happen. It’d also mean never seeing her again.

  I made my way past another RV, this one oversized, black and sleek as a panther, with a woman sitting on a lawn chair under a shaded overhang outside the front door. She perked up and leaned forward, gave me the onceover then fumbled her cell out of her pocket.

  I quickened my pace and wound past her plot, toward Aurora’s much smaller RV, in shades of cream and gray. The curtains were drawn, the front door shut tight.

  “Shit,” I muttered. What if she wasn’t home? Fuck it, at least she hadn’t left altogether. I needed to make this right.

  I strolled up the two front steps and knocked on the door—clack-clack. “Aurora?” Silence greeted me. Nothing. She wasn’t home, after all. I kneaded my forehead, squeezed my eyes shut.

  She wasn’t home, and I hadn’t apologized for last night, or for yesterday afternoon. Did she think I’d ditched her?

  A prrt-meow sounded at my feet, and Aurora’s kitty jostled up the stairs then wound between my ankles. At least she was happy to see me. I crouched and stroked the top of her silken head. “Hey, there. Where’s your mom?”

  Another meow, followed by a rumbling purr. Mistress pushed the top of her head against my palm then rubbed the sides of her furry chin against my skin.

  “Not here, eh?” Fantastic, now I’m talking to a cat. What would the paps make of this? I laughed and straightened then hopped down onto the vibrant green grass in front of the RV. I studied the outside of the vehicle and tapped my chin.

  Mistress barreled down the stairs after me and promptly sat down beside my ankle, still purring. She flicked her tail and gazed up at me, yellow eyes unblinking.

  “There’s something about you, too,” I said, and smiled at her. “You and Aurora are both a little bit magic, aren’t you?”

  She meowed her agreement.

  Come on, you can’t give up this easily, Jarryd. But the windows were shut tight, and the lights were out. What could I do? Hover around until she turned up and freak her out with my stalking abilities?

  I shrugged and circled the RV, regardless, dress shoes crunching in the long grass. Mistress followed me, of course, padding along with her tail rigid, pointing toward the heavens.

  So what if I hung around? I wasn’t a quitter, and Aurora needed to hear what I had to say.

  The woman made me crazy. Physically, our connection was over the top—I’d never come so hard in my life, and emotionally? I didn’t want to dig too deep and examine the quickening of my pulse when she was around, or the way my heart skipped a beat at the merest hint of that lavender scent that was oh-so-Aurora.

  My cell buzzed in my pocket, and I grimaced. Fuck, what was it this time? I brought it out, sighed at the name that flashed on the screen then answered, pressing the phone to my ear.

  “Rod,” I said. “I sent you a memo last night, did you get it? We’re reconsidering the bar scene and the female main character’s motivation. It might take some time before we come to a conclusion. I’m meeting with Luke tomorrow to discuss the rewrite.” Better to get all of that out in the clear in case he’d called because of the lack of communication.

  “What were you thinking?” Rod’s voice had an asthmatic quality, probably from the two packs of cigarettes a day over the course of the last ten years.

  “It’s not a huge rewrite,” I replied. “Just a single scene.” For now. “It shouldn’t set us back too much in time. Luke will knock this one out of the park in no time.”

  “Fuck Luke, and fuck the park, and the rewrite,” Rod thundered. Plastic crinkled on the other end of the line, followed by a rip, the click of a lighter. Rod sucked in smoke and exhaled on the receiver, producing a low roar of feedback. “Christ, Jarryd, I thought you were smarter than this.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said. “Can you clarify?”

  “Clarify? How about you switch on E! and take a look for yourself?”

  “I’m not at the hotel right now.” I looked around, lowering my voice in case Aurora’s neighbors decided to eavesdrop. I continued my path around the back of the RV, treading slowly this time.

  “Of
course not. You’re never where you’re supposed to be these days,” Rod snapped. “Christ, you’re making a fuck up here, Jay.”

  “Spit it out, Rod. What’s going on?” I leaned against the corner of the RV and stared out at the forest behind it, the solid tree trunks, with cracked bark and branches reaching for the sky.

  “The paps are going crazy. Apparently, there’s a video circulating on the internet. You in an altercation with some townie in Moondance. Jay, they know exactly where you are now.”

  “It was bound to happen eventually. I haven’t exactly been keeping my presence a secret,” I said.

  “The video has gone viral, you dickwad,” Rod growled. “And the undertone is that you were defending some chick’s honor. Everyone wants to know who you’re with and whether Felicity knows about it.”

  “I—fuck.”

  “I—fuck, indeed.”

  I paced forward, stopped. “Still, these aren’t insurmountable odds. It’s publicity for the movie, in a way. After all, we’re here because we’re scouting.”

  “Those fuckers don’t care about Pride’s Death. They care about your new lover,” Rod replied. “It’s totally overshadowing the movie. Bud, do you think anyone’s going to touch this movie if they think you’re messing with some ho right after you broke up with America’s sweetheart?”

  “That’s ridiculous,” I said and bristled at ‘ho.’ “My personal life is—”

  “It’s everybody’s business. This was supposed to be a low-key visit. The last thing we need is the town swamped during filming, for fuck’s sake.”

  “We haven’t selected this town as the location, yet,” I said but it was a weak argument.

  The fact was, the paps would swarm out here, especially since it appeared there were new juicy details to soak up and disperse to the masses. Any chance at peace would be out the door. And it will severely limit my ability to meet up with Aurora.

  “I’m starting to wonder if you even give a shit about this movie anymore. You need to get your damn head out of your ass before you ruin this for everyone.”

  “I’m not fucking it up.”

  “You are, and you don’t even see it, and that’s what worries me. Look, dickhead, I’ve stuck with you through all of this. Through the crap movies, the A-lists, the B-lists, the fucking straight-to-video shit. All of it. I know you, and this isn’t how you act.”

  Well, maybe I wasn’t the old me anymore, maybe things had finally fucking changed. I’d been a workaholic for too long. Perhaps, it was time to take a step back. But, no, there was too much at stake. People expected this movie to work.

  “Rod, listen to me, this will work out. Last night was a slipup.”

  “Christ.”

  “I’m serious, it was a minor slipup, and it won’t happen again. I’ll make sure of it, OK?”

  Rod sucked on the cigarette, a moist rattle of inhalation. “Fine,” he said. “But I’m warning you, Jay, this is the last fuckup. I’m not interested in investing in a shitshow. We’ve had a good business relationship, but even I have my limits. This movie is way behind schedule. These decisions should’ve been made weeks ago.”

  “I was a little busy weeks ago.”

  “Don’t give me the sob story again,” Rod said, but his gravelly tone softened up. “You’re not the only one who’s been punched in the gut by a lover.”

  “I’m not looking for pity. Rod, dude, we’re going as fast as we can, working as hard as we can to get the movie rolling, but I’m not going to push a mediocre product out to the public. You wouldn’t be happy with that.”

  “Of course not, but I don’t believe for a second that you’re focusing fully on Pride’s Death,” Rod reply. “I watched that video, Jay. I saw the chick in the background and the way you puffed your damn chest out like a gorilla. You’re not focused.”

  “Rod—”

  “I don’t want to hear any more of this,” he said. “You’ve got a week to get your shit together, or I’m done. And I don’t want any excuses. You called the press down on your head, and you’ll god damn deal with it. Make. This. Happen.” And then he hung up.

  That was it. Ball-busting completed.

  I dropped my cell phone into my jacket pocket and massaged the bridge of my nose. So many factors pulling me in different direction.

  Pride’s Death, failing, not as good as it could be.

  The media, insistent, desperate for answers.

  Felicity, who wouldn’t take no for an answer, or take our breakup seriously.

  And then there was Aurora. She was the island of sanity in all of this. A cool breeze of freedom, and even she was elusive.

  Mistress meowed at me from the back of the RV, and I searched for her in the long grass, spotting her next to one of the trees. She rubbed up against the bark, rising onto her back legs to better access the trunk.

  At least she was happy.

  I walked out to her again, drawn by the magic cat and the false hope that she’d draw Aurora out of the woodwork. I scratched Mistress behind the ears then leaned against the tree trunk.

  What would it be like to disappear and—?

  “What the fuck?” I grunted and pushed off from the trunk. I marched back to Aurora’s RV, ice cascading through my veins. “What the actual fuck?”

  The entire back of her white RV had been tagged in black spray paint. The words: Gypsy Whore, bold and out for the world to see. Christ, had Aurora found this? Was that why she’d left her RV this morning?

  I could guess who’d done this—the phrase was too obvious. That creep from the restaurant, her ex for god’s sake, hadn’t had the brains to come up with something original. This was the last thing Aurora needed. She’d made it clear she didn’t want trouble, and that was exactly what’d found her.

  And it was my fault.

  “Asshole!” I yelled.

  Footsteps crunched around the front of the RV, approaching fast around the side now. Mistress streaked past and disappeared beneath the vehicle. I raised my fists, clenched them tight, and waited.

  Chapter 14

  Aurora

  I swung the miniature wicker basket back and forth, light catching the planes and edges of the crystals within it. Rose quartz for love, citrine for prosperity, and aquamarine for truth. The expression of truth.

  My sneakers padded on the long grass that led up to the RV, blessedly empty and free of visitors. After last night, I needed a little peace and quiet, and picking up crystals from Mama Kate had helped me blow off steam.

  “Asshole!” The yell came from the back of the RV.

  My grip tightened on the basket’s handle. It was the tagger. The asshole who’d scrawled across the back of my RV last night, while I’d been asleep. I took breaths to calm myself, but it didn’t work.

  I’d hyperventilate at this rate. I plopped the basket onto my front stairs then deposited my tote bag next to it. I fumbled inside it, brought out my pepper spray and checked the nozzle. I’d bought it years ago—no easy target here.

  I brushed my free hand down my skirt, smoothing sweat away then dashed for the side of the truck, spray up and at the ready.

  “Don’t you dare move,” I yelled and burst around the back of the RV. A glimpse of tan, muscle, dark hair. A man with fists raised. “Got you!” I pressed my thumb downward a little.

  “Wait!” A frantic yell, deep and rough.

  “Jarryd?” I lowered the pepper spray in increments. “Oh, god, it is you.” I gripped the cold cylinder and stared at him.

  This was the last thing I needed. Yesterday had been a total screw-up. First, he’d seemed embarrassed then he’d kind of ignored me, and finally he’d defended me against James. I couldn’t keep track any longer.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Aurora, are you all right?”

  I bowed my head, the tag on the RV burning a hole in my peripheral vision. “Fine,” I lied. Finding the tag this morning had been a total coincidence. I’d come around the back to throw a few seeds
for the birds—after locking Mistress in the bathroom for the proceedings—and discovered it.

  I hated the fact that I’d cried at the sight of it, that it’d brought all those crappy emotions rushing back. Ghosts from the past rose to greet me. An image of my mother standing with her back to me, arms folded, guarding me from the cruel taunts of a group of women.

  That’d happened in another small town upstate. So many memories of that type, etched into my life. Judgment and pain and—

  Warmth embraced me and snapped me back to the present. Jarryd’s arms were around me. He guided my head to his chest. “You’re shaking.”

  “I’m fine,” I repeated.

  “You’re not fine, and that’s OK.”

  I shook my head against him, inhaled his musky scent. It comforted me, that smell, and the warmth, and the fact that someone in Moondance truly gave a shit about me. God, I didn’t want to pity myself, but the past few months—fuck it, years—had been rough.

  Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. I held them back through sheer force of will.

  “Look, this is the work of an asshole. He doesn’t know you.”

  How did he know it was a he?

  “Don’t look at it, OK?” Jarryd kissed the top of my head. “Let’s go around to the front of the RV.”

  “I should look at it,” I replied and dropped the pepper spray. “That’s what the people here think of me, and the sooner I get used to it, the better. I have to accept that.”

  “No! You don’t have to accept the labels other people give you,” he said and gripped my arms, moved me, held me out and speared me with his gaze. “You’re more than what people think of you, for Christ’s sake. Trust me, I know all about labels. I’ve been called everything from Lothario to failure. It doesn’t matter what they call you, Aurora. It matters what you are inside. It matters who you are. It matters that you know where you come from and where you’re going.”