I haven’t heard anything from Devyn. No more calls, none from him or me, and I assume it’s that either he never received my letter, or didn’t care to respond. He told me that I needed a cell phone or to activate a social media account, but I never needed those things, until now. Until him, and now it’s too late.
Uncle Jeff walks into the diner and settles at the same table as me while I take my break.
“I grabbed your mail while I took a walk to the cemetery.” He slaps a stack of envelopes in front of me and I groan at the bill notices sitting on top. The crisp white one on top with the hospital insignia causes my heartbeat to drop. It’s the fifteenth of the month, which means collection time. After taking a few days off from work and splurging on some new clothes, my bank account is a bit short. Losing the income from the apartment rental the time Devyn was in town was quite a hit to my funds.
Removing the rubber band from around the pile, I tell him, “Looks like the mail lady is hoarding it all for the week and delivering just once again.”
“Seems that way.” He looks down at my nursing book and flags over our new waitress for a water. “Schoolwork in the summer?”
“Yeah, just trying to get ready for next year. It’s going to be a tough one. I didn’t do well on my practice exam the other week.”
“I’m sure you did great.”
As I sort through the mail, three distinctive mounds in front of me, I sneak a look across at Jeff. He looks more alert today, alive. . .happy. And I wonder if the new cook is the reason for that. After Karen moved to town, I had a heart-to-heart with Jeff about being okay with moving on from Susan, that she would want him to be happy. Since then, I haven’t had to pull a grief-filled Jeff off the floor of my apartment hallway or see the sad look in his eyes.
I go through the junk mail, tearing them in half, standing, and tossing them in the trashcan behind the counter. Next, I grab the utility bills and put them in my bag to deal with later. The personal letters get a quick skim of the return addresses, my smile growing at each one.
The final blank envelope has no return address, but my name is written across the front. At first, I think it’s another piece of junk mail I missed, but something prickles in my mind and I slip my finger under the flap.
A printed boarding pass lands on the table and I stare at it like a diamond ring was just handed to me.
“What’s this?” I ask Uncle Jeff, my stare focused on the name of the airline at the top of the paper.
“I don’t know,” he replies. Taking the paper in his hand, he flips it back and forth a few times and then focuses on the location. “Seems like someone wants to see you in Chicago.”
Snatching the paper from his grip, he chuckles as I scan it over and over again. It’s my name. My birthday. My address. Everything about it is correct. I don’t even want to venture into the details of how he was able to find all of that information.
“When does it leave?” Uncle Jeff asks.
“In three weeks. August fourteenth.”
“Mmhmm.”
In shock, I look at the man closest to me, the man that has taken me in as his own. “Do you think I should go?” I whisper. “What do you think I should do? Oh my gosh, I’m freaking out.”
His tanned face gleams at me, the wrinkles far more evident today with his graying dark hair pulled back in a leather tie. Reaching across the table, he slips the boarding pass from my fingers, sets it aside, and then covers my hands with his own.
“I don’t want to see you get hurt, ever, Larsen. None of us do. You’ve been miserable since he left. You hide it well, but I can tell.
“Here is the thing, you miss him. You two didn’t get enough time together. And maybe that was for the best. This could be your chance for closure or it could be your shot at making it work.”
“So, what are you saying?”
Smiling, the wrinkles along his mouth reach all the way to the corners of his eyes, his white teeth shining behind his parted lips. “I’m saying you should use that phone back in the kitchen and confirm your flight.” He claps the top of my hand with his and then points in the direction of the kitchen.
It’s not until I’m home later that night that I tear through the rest of my mail. My bank account is now an empty wasteland after paying the utilities and writing my monthly check to the hospital, except when I open the invoice I’m stunned to find the complete balance paid in full by an anonymous donor.
My pride is substantial, but my thankfulness supersedes all of my emotions. I want to think that it’s Devyn that took care of the bill, but I quickly dismiss that notion. It’s most likely Uncle Jeff who has been begging to pay it off for years.
I happily write VOID across the front of the check, tear it up, and toss it in the garbage, then make a mental note to buy Jeff that new leather wallet the store in town just stocked and he has been eyeing.
Grabbing the personal letters, I head back into the bedroom, strip out of my clothes and into a set of pajamas, and settle into bed. I reach across to my nightstand and flick on the small light, the lamp illuminating the room in a soft yellow glow.
My smile grows with each letter, especially when they request to book again in the future. The next to last envelope only has my name written across the front, not my address, which under normal circumstances is a bit strange, but it wouldn’t be the first time a guest stopped through but I wasn’t available so they left a letter instead.
Now that I think about it, the situation happens more than it should.
A picture falls from the tri-fold paper as I pull it free from the envelope. I reach over the edge of my bed to grab it, the backside of the image facing upward. Flipping the 5x8 picture around I almost drop it again when I find the image of myself and Devyn at the diner the day before he left. It must have been taken from one of the papers that posted the article. But what sends shivers down my spine is the dark red X over my body.
With shaking hands, I sit back up and hold the folded paper in the other, afraid to read what is inside, but too curious to stop myself from unfolding the parchment.
The note is typed out with one of those old label makers, the ones that emboss the letters. I’m reasonably certain Susan had one. The labels are adhered onto the paper with no conformity. As if they couldn’t be bothered to line them up in a readable fashion.
But why would they care?
YOU ARE NOTHING
YOUR TIME IS GOING TO RUN OUT
In a moment like this, I wish that I knew that I could reach out to Devyn and tell him about it. Our endless game of phone tag has not boded well for either of us and it’s taken an emotional toll on me. But he’s probably used to crazed fans threatening anyone close to him. I’m sure his cousin gets things like this all the time.
Taking a deep breath, I let that notion settle in my head.
It’s just a fan.
It’s just someone jealous of how close I got to Devyn, and now that we aren’t around each other anymore everything will be fine.
It has to be fine.
I fold the letter and place it back into the envelope along with the picture, slipping it inside the drawer of my nightstand.
~
In the three weeks leading up to my flight, I receive one more letter each week. They all say the same thing, that my time is running out, implying that Devyn deserves better, pretty much reiterating everything I say to myself on a nightly basis.
I took Uncle Jeff’s advice and let Officer Tawny know about the letters and she agrees that they don’t seem threatening enough to involve police action, but she asked me to continue sending her copies just incase.
She’s been dusting them for prints, but they’ve shown up clean in every instance. Tawny thinks the person is smart enough to wear gloves. And they all have various return addresses, if they have them at all. To be safe we upgraded my security system at my apartment.
I stand in front of my open suitcase, wondering if I should bother packing. My anxiety rises thinking about w
hat may happen if this fan finds out I’m traveling to visit Devyn. The threats could continue or get worse.
Pulling out my new cell phone that Uncle Jeff demanded I purchase before I flew, I bring up his number. He’s closing up the auto shop tonight and he doesn’t answer my message right away. I need reassurance. My mind is jumping to every different conclusion imaginable about what may happen when I arrive in Chicago tomorrow.
I’m not even sure who, or if anyone, will be waiting at the airport.
The unknown is a scary place. But I promised Uncle Jeff that I’d go on this journey, and I’d be a fool not to, even if it’s a way to get finality for my heart.
Glancing at the clock, I begin throwing a few items into the case, jeans and shirts, a dress, toiletries, and lacy undergarments.
Finally, as I settle into bed, I get a message from Uncle Jeff, three hours after I sent the original message.
Jeff: I will drag you to that airport kicking and screaming.
Of course he would figure out that I had been planning on not following through, my insecurities getting the best of me.
Laughing, I turn out the light beside my bed and tuck myself under the sheets. The morning will be here soon enough and it seems I’ll find my way to Chicago regardless of the war between my head and my heart. Each pulling me in different directions.
It’s too soon to know which one to follow.
Boarding the plane the next morning, wedged between two older women heading to Florida to visit their grandchildren, I settle with listening to my heart. It hasn’t steered me wrong yet. But there is a first time for everything.
CHAPTER NINE – DEVYN
Empty.
Hollow.
Blank.
Could I feel any more like an emo shit?
Three weeks ago, when Tessa forced her way into my solitude with Larsen and snatched me away from Shady Pines, I felt like my body was being ripped into shreds. It wasn’t until she reminded me of my plans, of our plans, that I saw her reasoning. How I had begged and pleaded to find a way to get back to the top. How that pedestal beckoned me to stand upon it again.
I knew what I was leaving behind, I ached with the knowledge. Larsen was the shimmering light in my world of darkness, but she was the one thing holding me back from where I belonged.
In the airport waiting for our plane to be ready, I had snagged some paper from an airline worker and penned Larsen a letter. I didn’t want her out of my life. I absolutely couldn’t bear the thought of that. She was important. She was everything right in the world without the skepticism. I needed her in my life to keep my demons at bay. Her flickering flame saving me from my shadows. I knew calling her apartment phone would be tricky, there was very little we could do to line up our lives for a quick chat. This letter would at least let her know that she was on my mind.
But I never received a response from my letter to her, one where I digressed and went off on tangents until opening up my soul. I missed her with every breath that I take. I waited for weeks and finally gave up. She had forgotten me, just as I requested.
And as I stare down at the picture on my phone, the photo Tessa messaged me not too long ago, I should feel anger, hatred, but I just feel nothing.
“Devyn?” My agent calls out my name from across the table but I turn my attention to my cousin seated beside her.
I can’t focus. All I see is that image of Cole with his arm wrapped around Larsen. My Larsen. I want to feel violent. Sorrow. Anything. But all I feel is the steady beat of my chest pounding.
My vision becomes hazy and I’m certain that there are more people in the image with them, but all my eyes see are her and him.
“Devyn. I need an answer,” Dominique’s steady voice of reason breaks through my barrier.
The sound of a book slamming echoes in the small conference room we’re inhabiting for this meeting.
“Sorry, I. ..uh. . .I’m mentally preparing for the fight scene coming up,” I lie.
My agent doesn’t have a chance to counter because the door to the room opens wide and her stern face turns to one of embarrassment quickly followed by fake elation as Quinn and her cop husband, owners of Tuinn Productions, stroll in.
“Oh goodness,” Quinn says in masked surprised. “Did you start without us?”
Quinn has the right to be upset, not only is her company producing the film, but I learned that she is a major investor in the project as well.
“Not at all,” my agent stutters. “We were just going over the proposal to have Devyn and Elena appear to be more than costars to the media outlets.”
I watch as Quinn nods and I feel a pang in my chest that she isn’t opposing the notion. It’s a popular ploy in Hollywood to draw more attention to a film, but I assumed Quinn would be above that falsity.
Quinn takes her seat, Trevor taking the one next to her, his body only a few inches from hers. “Well, before you make a decision, let me share some news.
“The initial media fodder is exceptionally positive thus far for the film. Fans are excited as well; both of your media ratings have skyrocketed. We actually have a meeting to hire more security to the sets moving forward.
“Obviously, it’s your decision, but if I may be so bold, I think that by appearing to be in a deeper relationship off set may have people clamoring to witness the chemistry on screen.”
I look over to Elena who sits primly, almost as tall as myself, with her assistant hunched over the table across the way next to Tessa. He’s busy typing away on his phone as Elena smiles warmly. It won’t be a hardship to pretend with her, we’ve already shared a bed, what more is a few dinners?
Looking back down at my phone, at the picture of Cole and Larsen, I find myself agreeing to the proposal.
“Wonderful,” my agent boasts as she reaches into her bag for a stack of papers.
“Hold on,” I finally speak up. “I don’t want this as an amendment to our contract. If either of us wants out, I don’t want it to affect the movie or filming. That’s the only way I’ll agree.”
They all turn to look over at Elena, as if she holds the power to nix this or not. It has me wondering if this scheme wasn’t concocted by her to begin with. Michael’s face finally pries itself free from his phone and he looks at me in distaste before running an arm across Elena’s back in an intimate fashion.
“I’ll agree to it,” Elena purrs.
Quinn nods but I see the sadness in her eyes as she looks over at me and I realize that my theory was correct. This must have been something our agents and Elena invented.
“Great.” Quinn’s smile doesn’t reach her eyes, it’s the same one she gives to reporters and I recognize that it’s in my favor. “Now, let’s go over the moved up filming schedule. Since we’re ahead we’ll be able to wrap up in Chicago quite a bit sooner and can get started in Los Angeles. I’ve already secured the time change with the film sets and crew.” She hands out the updated schedule and I skim it over before sliding it across the way to Tessa.
“While the director films some B roll today, I’d like Devyn to practice the driving portion with the stunt team at a track we’ve reserved. Elena, you’ll do the same with your stunt team for the big chase scene. Are there any questions?”
No one speaks up and Quinn dismisses us all, but she grabs my arm as I stand from the table, her grip gentle yet firm. Tessa stops as well.
Once the room files out, Quinn finally grins at me in that big sister sort of way. “I’m sorry about all of this. Unfortunately, it really will help if you two can pull it off. Just some coordinated dinners and dates. Things with the press are different than they used to be. Social media-” she rambles, but I cut her off. “Hey, it’s okay. I understand how it all works. I’ll do anything to make sure that this film is a success.”
Tenderly, Quinn rises to hug me and whisper, “I know that you will. I’m really proud of you.” I know she’s referring to the absence of drugs and alcohol. Since arriving, I’ve been tested almost daily and I don’
t fault them for their apprehension. They have a lot of money at stake, while I have a reputation to fix.
“So, want to tell me about the pictures I saw floating around with the waitress?” she asks and her husband groans. “Quinn, honey, leave it alone.”
With a false chuckle and smile, I pat Quinn’s shoulder and say, “It was nothing, just a friend.”
Her grin falters and then falls into a thin line. “I was hoping it would be something more. You looked really happy.”
“I was. She’s extraordinary. But it’s nothing.”
“If you say so. Oh! I meant to ask if you both wanted to join us to watch the Cubs on Saturday? We have a box reserved.”
I look over at Tessa and she nods.
“Sounds fun.”
“Great. We’ll touch base. In the meantime, I want to make sure you talk to your agent or manager about hiring some personal security. Your star is rising again just like you’ve been wanting.”
Yeah, but at what cost? I can’t help but think to myself.
“I’ll do that. You know, I really am thankful you gave me this opportunity.”
“No need to thank me. You were the right person for the role. Anyway, we have some alone time calling our name.” She winks before looking over at Trevor who sits with a wicked grin across his lips.
“I really don’t want to know. We’ll see you later.”
As they stroll out of the room, Tessa walks toward my side of the table with a grim look in her eyes. Words don’t need to be spoken, I can see her sympathy clearly, but there is nothing for her to be sorry for. My time with Larsen was short and sweet and by her lack of response to my letter, I know that our time is over.
“Hey, it’s no big deal.”
“I know, but I liked her. But maybe it’s nothing. It was a big group of people.”
I realize she’s trying to paint the picture in a different light, but it’s still just black and white. “She’s had a crush on him for a long time, Tessa, and we said we were just going to be friends. I’m happy for her, she deserves it,” I lie. Being an actor offers me the luxury of pulling off fake emotions and words to fool others, but of course, not to someone that knows me. And Tessa isn’t fooled, but she lets it go anyway.
The Scene Stealer: A Hollywood Romance Page 12