Keystrokes

by Lisa Marie

“Farrow, either you take the assignment, or you break your contract.” He shrugs. “I expect an answer by noon.”

  Standing, Thomas lifts his coffee cup and waits expectantly while my heart shatters again. Slowly, following his lead, I lift my coffee cup to my lips and throw my bag over my shoulder, shadowing my supervisor to the office around the corner. We enter the brick building a block away from the coffee shop and climb the two flights of stairs that lead us to our work space.

  Pulling open the glass door, Thomas turns to me and says,

  “Noon, Ms. Connoley.”

  With a sigh, I walk to my desk and put my bag by my feet. I turn on my computer and rummage through the paperwork that I left for myself. Since I am the Social Media Coordinator, I can search the internet freely and I do, daily. I look for his picture, that smiling face, recent news, even the rumors. After typing Kasen’s name into the search engine, I sit back and finish my coffee.

  “New never before seen pictures of Kasen Wells and Sierra Bien on location of DIRTY.” – 12 hours ago

  “Kasen Wells, where did you go?” – 3 hours ago

  “Kasen Wells, Secret Girlfriend while shooting DIRTY.” – 45 minutes ago.

  My eyes bug out of my head. I start off by clicking the secret girlfriend link.

  “The image below was taken after returning from Easter break during the filming of

  DIRTY. They sure look cozy don’t they?”

  It’s me. Clearly me, well I know it’s me. The picture is taken from behind through the glass doors of the loft, while we wait for the elevator. His arm is around me holding my waist, while my head rests on his shoulder. You can’t see our faces, just our backs. It’s grainy, so it has obviously been enlarged quite a bit. It was a happy time. I miss Mama and wildflowers.

  Shaking myself out of my reverie, I decide I’m going to do it. I need to see him. I need to know he’s okay. I walk with determination to Thomas’ office and enter through the open door.

  Thomas looks up from his computer and removes his glasses.

  “Yes, Farrow?”

  “I’ll do it. When and where?”

  “Perfect!” He hands me a manila envelope. “This one is kind of complicated. On the nineteenth, Sierra wants to meet at seven in the evening at the IVY for dinner, and Kasen wants to meet at Santa Monica Pier at 8:00 A.M.”

  “And Bob MacMillan?”

  “Via Skype, you can arrange that with him.”

  “Thank you, Thomas.”

  I turn and walk out of his office toward my own desk. In two weeks, I am going to see him. For the first time in weeks, I’m truly happy.

  *

  Kasen

  “Alright, Christine.” I spit through gritted teeth as I end the call and toss my phone onto the patch of grass on the other side of the track. That was the last phone call I wanted to take today. I’m not ready for the junket to start in barely two weeks from now. I was counting on a little more peace than this. DAMMIT!

  Closing my eyes, I tilt my head to feel the warm sun on my face. Both of my hands cup my skull as I release the angriest growl I have ever heard from a human. My nostrils flare and I drop my arms to my sides as the sky turns gray. I’m sure I look like I’m waiting for the lightning to strike me down as I stand on these abandoned train tracks.

  I started coming out here to think when I couldn’t be at my house – our house or Mama’s house. Usually it’s just me and my thoughts. I seldom bring my phone with me. What’s the point? I stopped waiting for her to call three and a half weeks ago. Sitting down on one of the abandoned tracks, I stare in disbelief at my phone that’s sitting in the grass. I stand and cautiously reclaim it. I look through my contacts and select Christine. Stabbing the screen with my fingertip, I clench my jaw while I wait for her cheerful greeting.

  “Hello, Kasen.” I can hear her smile from here.

  “If Farrow does the interview, I want to meet her at the pier in the morning.” I demand. “If someone else does it, I’ll meet at the same time as Sierra.”

  “Santa Monica Pier. Why?”

  “You wouldn’t understand.” I mumble into the microphone. “Just pass this on to EI.”

  Ending the call, I shove the phone into my pocket and continue down the tracks. Remembering her smile, her laughter, and reliving the worst day of my life since Brayden died. I walk a few more feet and thunder booms overhead, just milliseconds before the heavens open on me and sheets of rain pour down. At least Mother Nature is in the same mood as I am.

  Chapter 23

  Two days before interview

  I am definitely not a fan of Los Angeles. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure it’s perfect for some people, just not me. I landed yesterday and the swarm of fans in the airport was ridiculous. I’m not even a superstar, and they were all over me, screaming my name. I have to get it out there. I hate the screaming, the grabbing, and the entitlement.

  This morning, I was able to sneak out of the hotel the short distance to Coffeebean and Tealeaf. This location is small, even the seats at the back are surrounded with windows. I’m glad I wore my beanie and sunglasses. Opening the newspaper, I take a big sip of coffee and begin to read. I glance toward the door, when a flash of red walks through and my heart jumps into my throat. It’s her! And she is so beautiful. I’m openly staring, wishing for her to turn toward me. To feel me.

  She stands in line at the counter, when a tall blonde man in a suit stands behind her and dips his head to speak in her ear. Slowly, she turns and smiles at him, they laugh together and she looks so happy. Heartache begins all over again.

  Quickly, I pick up my napkin and scribble on it. I refold the newspaper, pick up my coffee and head to the door. As I near her, I feel the attraction that has always been there. The magnetism that makes me believe that she’s still mine. I get closer and closer. Time has slowed down. My hands are sweaty, and I can barely swallow.

  I stand behind and to her left. It’s now or never.

  I release a gentle breath into her hair and turn away, but before I leave, I reach for her left hand and briefly squeeze. I look back to see her eyes widen with recognition as I slowly pull away, leaving the napkin between her fingers. I push my sunglasses up and leave the coffee shop.

  I retreat to the hotel and watch for her through the front glass. She runs onto the street and right in front of this building, looking frantic while still clutching the folded napkin in her fist. She stands on her toes and looks over the few people that line the street. At one point, I am sure I make eye contact with her through the glass, but am proven wrong seconds after when she looks away, still as confused as before.

  Blonde guy catches up to her, and I see her telling him something. He pats her back to calm her, and she relents. They walk together down the street. I step onto the sidewalk watching her walk away. She must feel me watching because she turns around while I stand and watch her with my hands in my pockets. Only when she disappears from sight do I return to my room to finish preparing for Santa Monica Pier.

  I lay on the bed and open the gallery on my phone. She’s there. I see her smiling with her windblown hair. Touching the screen, I remember the feel of her hand this morning. The smell of her shampoo. Flipping to the next picture, we are grinning against each other’s lips. Our mouths swollen from a kiss the morning after we made love under the tree. I smile at the memory, and then I think of the guy with her today. Are they together? Does it really matter?

  I call down to the front desk and request my motorcycle from the valet service. Tucking my phone and wallet into my bag, I sling it onto my back and leave my room. I can’t wait for two days. I wish I could see her now. I stab the button in the elevator to take me to the lobby, and I remember our first kiss. I snicker when I remember telling her I was staying across the hall. The look on her face was priceless. I remember kissing her belly while she begged to go to the bathroom.

  Smiling, I push my sunglasses onto my nose, tuck my hands in my pockets
, and wait for the elevator doors to open. Rubbing my hand over my chin, I formulate my plan and I am damned pleased with the idea. I walk outside and take my keys from the valet.

  Throwing my leg over my bike, I rev the engine. “Hang on baby.” I smile as I shift gears and head down Sunset.

  **

  Farrow

  I knew when I walked into Coffeebean this morning that I was being watched. All the hair on my arms stood on end. This is Hollywood. You could be watched by anyone, but something tells me this is familiar. I quickly scan the shop but see nothing out of the ordinary.

  Patrick comes in and quickly takes his place in line with me. I wish he would take the hint, we work together. That’s it. He’s always too close. Although he apologizes every time I tell him to step back, he winds up in my space again in no time. This is one of those times. I push Patrick back and turn toward the barista when I feel a gentle breeze through my hair, and my hand is quickly held by a familiar tattooed hand. Before it registers, he’s gone! Out onto Hollywood Boulevard. SHIT! Rushing out through the crowd, I look both directions frantically scanning for his beautiful face. Where did he go? It’s only been twelve seconds!!!

  Up on my toes looking around, I lost him. Patrick runs over to me.

  “He was here, Patrick! Did you see him?” I grab my hair in frustration and look the opposite direction again. Dropping my hands in defeat, Patrick rubs my back, and together we start walking toward the office. Half a block down and I realize that I have been holding something in my fist since he touched me. Slowly, I open my fingers until I reveal a napkin. Opening the napkin, I read the words “I can’t take my mind off of you” forming the tail to a kite.

  Quickly I turn around, and I see him. Standing there, watching me. Mirrored aviators and beanie. It’s him. I know those smirking lips.

  “Earth to, Farrow. Work. Late.” Patrick urges.

  Turning to acknowledge him momentarily. “Yeah, work… Uh…” I trail off as I look back over my shoulder, and he’s gone. My eyes glaze over, and I bring the napkin to my nose. Smiling I note that his smell is on the napkin.

  “You, okay, doll?” Patrick questions as he puts his arm around my shoulder.

  “Don’t.” I warn as I put one finger up between us and pull away from him. “I’ll be fine. Just please, for the love of all things holy, STOP being so touchy feely… OKAY?”

  Patrick raises his hands in surrender and tucks them into his pockets as we enter our building. Sitting at my desk, I bring the napkin to my nose and tuck it into my bra strap. Reaching into my purse, I pull out my cell phone and do something I haven’t done in weeks. I open twitter and with so much hope I quickly type an new status:

  FarrowConnoley: I know you were there, I hold the proof in my hand.

  Realization hits me, and I’m suddenly drunk with giddiness. My smile has spread across my face, and warmth fills my soul. Finally after weeks, my heart doesn’t feel like a ball of lead weighing me down. It feels like hope.

  Throwing my bag over my shoulder, I quickly text Thomas, telling him that I had to prep for the interviews. With new found confidence, I strut out of the building with my head held high. The sun is shining as I walk down Hollywood Boulevard past Mann’s Chinese Theatre, where tourists are taking pictures and putting their hands in celebrity’s handprints. I jog to the underground station at Hollywood and Vine, descending the stairs to the platform.

  Today is a fantastic day!

  Chapter 24

  I was really surprised that Sierra agreed to meet me tonight instead of tomorrow. Her agent has always had a tight reign. When I arrive at The Ivy, she was at one of the outdoor tables. She wants to be noticed. That’s Sierra. Wearing a beautiful white linen tank top and skinny jeans, her hair and makeup are perfect. Chuckling, I approach her and she smiles the warmest smile I have ever seen.

  Standing she wraps me in an embrace and tells me, “All of the answers are in the envelope in my car. You have to go now.”

  Confusion sets in and I pull away from her. Knitting my brow, I narrow my eyes and remind her about the interview tonight and the one tomorrow morning.

  “There’s no time to explain just get in my car and go. Can you handle that, Farrow?”

  “Um?”

  “I’m not Jess. I won’t pull biker shit on you. JUST. GO. NOW.” She states slowly and kisses my cheek. “Seriously, you are gonna love it!” Her smile is bright and pure.

  I turn around, and her driver is waiting for me on the sidewalk. I look back at her over my shoulder and Sierra waves. Her driver opens the door for me, and I climb into the backseat. One single daisy awaits me on the leather seat, and my heart skips a beat. I roll down the window and look at Sierra as her driver waits until it’s clear to pull into traffic. She’s still smiling behind her tented hands.

  Slowly, the car pulls into traffic and I am bouncing my knees excited to see him. Excited to tell him. Looking in the mirror, the driver’s eyes smile. “I will be at your disposal all night, Ms. Connoley. There is a light jacket in the bag at your feet, along with a few other necessities for your destination.”

  Looking down, I see a small canvas bag. With shaky hands, I open the flap and remove the jacket. There is a small envelope and a white box. I lay them both on my lap and tug the jacket on. I pull them both out and look at them, running my hands over them. Twine surrounds the box and tied into the string is a tiny tag that says “Open Me First.”

  Placing the envelope beside me, I slowly draw the string and slide it off the box. Lifting the lid, there’s a square of paper maybe? Cloth? I remove it from the box and I find that it’s a long piece of material that feels waxy. It’s folded into a zed pattern. I have no clue what this means, but I am sure it’s from him.

  I trace his handwriting on the envelope with my finger. “Me Next.” I hold it to my nose and it smells like him. Spicy, clean, Kasen. Lifting the flap I remove a piece of paper. Unfolding it, my hands begin to tremor and I get a lump in my throat.

  Farrow,

  Seeing you yesterday I knew I couldn’t wait a moment longer. I knew I had to see you before tomorrow, but how could I make that a reality?

  Then an amazing thing happened. I received a text from Sierra last night telling me that you changed interview times with her. I didn’t bother texting her back, I called her and made all of these arrangements.

  Farrow, I need you. I need to see you, smell you and please you. I need your smile and your happiness in my life every day. But the question for me is what do you want? Do you still want me? Us?

  Kasen

  By the time I finish reading his note, big fat tears are rolling down my cheek. I know what I want to do. I know what I should do. I have to make this decision, and I don’t have much time to do it.

  “Can you please stop?” I call to the driver.

  “Yes, Miss,” he responds.

  * * *

  Kasen

  “She is in the car. I don’t know what she is going to do, but I can tell you she looked really confused when I pushed her away.” Sierra giggles on her end.

  “Thank you again, Sierra. I just hope she can decide. Either way, I need to know.” I admit, while stuffing my free hand into my front pocket.

  “I’m going to let you go, Kasen. Tyler Prescott just arrived and he’s coming this way. Maybe I can give him some Sierra charm.”

  “You do that! See you in Seattle?” I laugh into the phone

  “You betcha! Bye, Kasen. Good Luck!” She ends the call.

  I pace the boardwalk as I wait. Leaning over the rail, I look into the water and hope that she chooses us. My nerves are getting the best of me. Palms are sweaty, and I’m sure I’m shaking. Calm down, Kasen.

  My cell phone buzzes. It’s a text from Sierra’s driver.

  Driver: We’ve stopped. Pacific Coast Hwy. 5 mins out. Took very long route

  She’s doesn’t want to see me.

  Me: Why did you stop? Is she not comi
ng?

  Driver: Unknown. She hasn’t said anything in about 10 mins

  Me: Thank you

  I sit on a bench and watch happy couples walking toward the Ferris wheel. I’m not waiting another minute. I can’t. Picking up the box I brought for her, I begin walking back to my bike. Pulling out my phone, I make a final text before I leave the pier.

  Me: I’m not staying at the pier any longer

  Driver: I’ll tell Ms. Connoley

  Me: Don’t

  Driver: Sir?

  Me: Where on PCH are you? I’m coming to her!

  Driver: Will Rogers Beach

  Me: Don’t go anywhere.

  Driver: Yes, sir

  I put my helmet on and tie the box down before starting the bike and screeching out of the parking lot. She’s five minutes away. I have to get to her. Turning on to the Pacific Coast Highway, my heart is beating rapidly in my chest and I can’t wait to see her.

  As I reach the turn off, I see the car parked safely in the lot, and I pull off the road parking far enough away not to be noticed immediately. Removing my helmet, I climb off the bike and begin the slow walk to the car. Is she watching me as I walk to her? Will she agree to talk to me? Could this walk take any longer?

  I finally arrive at the car and lightly tap on the window. Nothing. I knock again. Nothing. I lift the handle and the door slowly opens. Pulling it wide, I cautiously lean down and see her staring at me with her mouth hanging open.

  “Close your mouth, doll, don’t need drool everywhere,” I tell her as I calmly enter the vehicle.

  Her hand covers her mouth, while a single huge tear trickles down her cheek and over her hand. She looks scared. I don’t want her to be afraid. I want her to climb onto my lap and let me make love to her every day until tomorrow finally arrives.

  “It’s you,” she whispers as she pulls her hand away from her mouth and reaches out to touch my chin. I close my eyes at the contact. Her hand is so soft and warm.

  “It’s me.” I assure her, softly.

  “You’re here.” She sniffles and wipes her nose on her sleeve.