The Scene Stealer: A Hollywood Romance

by Renee Harless

  “Okay,” I tell him as Cole steps into my space.

  “Call me when you get to his place? Okay?”

  “I will.”

  Staring at Cole, I witness the concern in his eyes, the protective vibe pulsing off him in waves. Since the magazine fiasco a couple weeks ago we haven’t spoken much, but now that seems like water under the bridge.

  “I’m so sorry, Larsen. I didn’t want this to happen.” Devyn hangs up before I get the chance to say my goodbyes, but I’m still in so much shock that it barely registers.

  “Grab your bag, Larsen. We’ll head out the back. Jessica has the truck waiting.”

  “Jessica?” I say to make conversation as I slip the tie on my apron free from its bow.

  “Yeah, we can talk about that later. Jeff says they have things under control here and to keep you safe until things die out a bit.”

  “Mmhmm,” I murmur, not realizing the gravity of my agreement.

  Cole ushers me out the back door, many of the inquisitive observers already moving in that direction to watch my exit. I’m sure seeing me tucked tightly against Cole’s body is only going to add fuel to the fire.

  I barely get a chance to say hello to Jessica before she’s speeding off in Cole’s old SUV heading in the opposite direction of his apartment. And when I point out the fact they smile at each other.

  “We need to lead them in the wrong direction. We’ll drive about an hour this way until they lose the track and then head back. By that time either you’ll be old news or we’ll need Tawny to hire a few more recruits,” Cole points out. “But at the rate you’re getting attention, your uncle may be able to retire.”

  I realize that he says it in jest and I fake a smile in his direction, but the thought of anyone assuming that I want this attention spoils the food in my belly. Glancing up into the rearview mirror Jessica and I exchange a look and I can see that she feels the same.

  A prison is a prison regardless of the design. And as I step into Cole’s apartment, I can feel my free will slipping away. He graciously offers his guest room, but I stop him cold saying that I don’t want to inconvenience Jessica. I watch as they share another silent look and then she tucks her body against Cole’s.

  “Well, she’s staying in my room.”

  “Oh.” The thought never dawned on me that those two would be together. Maybe it was because they live so far apart, or that I’ve been lost in my own world. Either way, my gaze flicks back and forth between the two of them. They look good together, her effortless So-Cal style against his All-American look. “Wow. When did this happen?”

  Obviously, they weren’t together when we went hiking almost two months ago.

  “It’s been a recent development,” Cole points out.

  “And I have a lot of frequent flyer miles,” Jessica chimes in. “We’re just seeing where things go. I hope that doesn’t make things awkward between us. I mean I know that you two. . .” She leaves her comment hanging in the air.

  “No, please, I am so happy for you both. You give me hope, really.”

  “You should call your boy. He’s probably worried sick at this point.”

  At first, I want to tell them that he isn’t my boy, but I can’t bring myself to utter the words. We may not be together, but I’m his in every sense. And perhaps a part of him is mine.

  “He’s probably still filming.”

  I try to brush them off as a knock sounds on the door. An eerie silence thickens in the room, and like quicksand, we sink into its oblivion.

  Cole slips his phone from his pocket and looks at the screen. “Good, about time,” he utters as she strolls toward the door. He must have a security camera installed and that’s why Devyn was okay with me coming here.

  Opening the door, my uncle stands on the opposite side with a bag in one hand and his phone pressed up to his ear in the other.

  “Yeah, she’s here and looks fine. Yeah. Yeah. Okay, I will.” Jeff ends the call and looks over to me.

  “You need to call your boyfriend.”

  Trying to argue I exasperatedly say, “He’s not my. . .” but it’s a futile argument. “Fine. I will do it in a minute.”

  “Good. He can go over some precautions to take right now. I brought over a change of clothes for you until I can take you back to get some of your things.”

  “I’m going home tomorrow. I can’t stay here.”

  “You have photographers camped outside your apartment building. They’re scaring your guests too. It was like trying to walk through a minefield when I went there. Everyone is shoving a camera or a phone in your face. What a nightmare. I can’t believe Devyn deals with that every day.”

  I don’t have a response for Jeff. The photographers aren’t a hardship when you signed up for that life, crave that kind of life. It’s terrifying to me because it’s so far-fetched from my world. The media attention after the accident with my mom had been bad enough. This current situation is my worst nightmare. Things couldn’t get any worse.

  Two days later, I didn’t realize how wrong I could be.

  What I had thought was a nightmare was just a glimpse of what was to come.

  As we predicted, the media attention died down the next day when Devyn and Elena were spotted at the trendiest club, their relationship not looking a bit tarnished. I imagine that she’s enjoying being pegged as his sweetheart, his game-changer. She’s being recognized as the reason he’s staying sober and changing his life around.

  I’m the temptress.

  The other woman.

  The mistress.

  I certainly don’t know how I can be any of those things when I haven’t seen Devyn in almost three weeks. Since the diner has had a steady stream of customers, I’ve been doing what I can to help, even posing for pictures or signing something when requested.

  It may burn my soul, but I’d do anything to help Uncle Jeff.

  A burger flips in slow motion before me, the sizzle of the griddle against the meat as it splatters back onto the hot surface, leaving little bubbles in its wake.

  “Everyone out. NOW!” Uncle Jeff’s booming voice sounds in the large room, shattering the mental cocoon I’ve placed myself inside.

  “What’s going on?” Tucker asks, and I shrug.

  Stealing a look out into the space I watch as the maniacal man nearly lifts people out of their chairs with their plates and utensils still in their meaty grips.

  It only takes about five minutes under Jeff’s command to clear the room. Collectively everyone must realize that something big is going on, something of importance, and I can’t help but focus on the sinking feeling swirling around me.

  I fear that this time I’m not going to be able to come up for air.

  Joanne rushes over to Jeff and he murmurs something to her, they both look toward me. His face is one in concern, eyes wide, mouth pinched. But Joanne’s face contorts into one of shock, her hand rushing to her mouth, head swaying back and forth.

  “No way.” Tucker’s voice travels around me in a wisp, just barely audible. Turning around, I find him fidgeting with the remote for the ancient television in the corner. The thing has never really worked, but last summer Jeff and I tried to get it some kind of service. Sporadic channels flip back and forth until settling on an entertainment news show.

  At first, I wonder if some scandal involving Devyn has occurred, or worse, a death. Maybe something with his parents.

  But then my face flashes on the screen, a close-up of my scars front and center the day I was released from the hospital. The day I had looked the worst and felt dreadful. Everything had been raw, fresh, and terrifying. And now it is out there for the world to see.

  I don’t make it long enough to see the rest, the darkness churns above me, spinning violently into a swarming tornado sucking me into its center, unleashing its fury in its path.

  The solitude of shadows is a welcome reprieve. It’s quiet, calming, peaceful, soothing. Why would anyone want to leave this? Why would anyone want to welcome
in the disarray of the world?

  I’m not given a choice, as the sounds of voices filter around me. Beneath my body, I feel a soft cushion – a mattress. I must have passed out and was brought back to Cole’s. I know that I’m not in my room.

  I have a choice of getting up or hiding away. The decision isn’t challenging this time. Closing off my mind, I go back to my old ways, hiding away from everyone hoping that I’m able to slip away unnoticed.

  I can deal with everything tomorrow. Today, I want to shut the world out.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN – DEVYN

  “Action!” the director shouts from behind his camera.

  I’m dressed in full black attire. Tight T-shirt, black pants, ass-kicking boots, and my body strapped with so many weapons that I could open my own reserve.

  My character, Brody, is following his CIA colleague down the hall of their building when they approach a room. Elena’s character, Gianna, sits in the corner looking meek and mild until she sees him enter, then her entire body changes. In the storyline, their characters had spent the night together after celebrating his racing win under her family’s custom car sponsorship.

  Gianna didn’t realize that he was investigating her family for smuggling drugs within the confines of their custom builds. But she does now. And although they were indeed pushing drugs and weapons, he had played her a fool.

  The woman bursts like a volcanic explosion, rushing across the room and jumping over the table in her hurry to get to him. Her blue dress rips along the way, exposing her thighs to the camera.

  Brody is supposed to stand there and take the violent outburst from her, feeling her hurt at his deception. And whether it’s improvisation, or Elena missing her mark, her hand lashes out across my face, one of her nails leaving a bleeding wound in its wake.

  I don’t miss the calculating glare in her eyes, but I continue to follow through with the scene until the director finally shouts, “Cut! That’s it.”

  “Dammit, Elena.” I angrily walk off set, looking for a clean towel to press against my cheek. The scrape is deeper than I initially thought, and it burns like hell.

  I walk over to the makeup trailer to see if we can get it cleaned and covered up before I leave. Amber, the studio’s artist, is able to put some antibiotic liquid on the cut so that it doesn’t get infected. Just as she’s finishing up the door to the trailer opens and in the reflection of the mirror, I watch Tessa walk in, her face masked in horror. “Hey, what’s going on?” I ask her.

  She ignores my question at first and asks Amber to excuse us. The artist hurriedly scurries away.

  Cutting the shit, Tessa walks up to me and hands me her phone. “Have you seen this? Did you know?”

  “I’m sorry, you’re being awfully vague. What is it I’m looking at?”

  She taps her screen, hitting play on the live stream, and then I realize that she’s viewing an entertainment channel.

  “Is this about the movie?”

  “No.”

  That’s when Larsen’s face appears on the screen and I realize how bad this really is.

  “Is this airing now? When did you learn about it?”

  “Only about five minutes ago when I received the full transcript in an email. I had to wait for you to finish filming. There is nothing I can do to get this taken down.”

  “How terrible do they paint her?”

  “It’s not just that. It’s about you too, Devyn. There are interviews. In-depth interviews with your parents, so-called friends, and Larsen. They’re saying she did an exclusive.”

  “But she wouldn’t. . .” I say just as Elena and her lackey Michael enter the trailer.

  “You need to leave,” Tessa says in a no-bullshit tone, but Elena is not deterred.

  “I am sorry. I came to see how your face is faring. I hope that you are not upset with me.” She steps over to my chair and leans down to look at my cheek, but her gaze flickers down to the phone in my hand playing the video. “Oh, yes. I heard about this from Michael. Tsk tsk,” she points out as if that should give her reason to stay after being asked to leave.

  Speaking again, Tessa tells her, “This doesn’t concern you, Elena.”

  “Yet, it does. Devyn is my boyfriend, for all intents and purposes. And this woman was using him.”

  “What?”

  “Devyn, no.” I can hear Tessa’s voice, but it’s muffled from my pounding heart.

  “Explain,” I growl, looking up at Elena.

  “Michael showed me the transcript. It talks about her accident, they tried to find her mother, but couldn’t. They interviewed some of the people that know her. It really was a gruesome thing to read, about the car and the burning flesh smell.”

  “Try living through it,” I bellow in Larsen’s defense.

  Elena has the decency to look apologetic, but just for a moment. “Yes. . .well. . . it seems that she used you to her advantage. They have quotes from her saying that once she figured out you paid her hospital bill, which, by the way, is very kind of you, that she knew that she could figure out a way to get you to help save her family’s diner without you knowing.

  “From what it said she was the one leaking the pictures and stories to the tabloids to get people to visit. The mysterious ploy worked, I suppose.”

  “Devyn, you know that’s not what happened,” Tessa argues, but I’m not sure what I believe anymore. My mind is swirling with conflicts and as I look around the room, not one thing offers me a resolution. Because how else would they have learned about the medical bills being paid off or the struggle her uncle is having?

  “Oh,” Elena says as she takes another look at the phone. “Are those your parents? I should like to meet them one day.”

  “What?” I shout. Leaning closer, I turn up the volume on the phone wondering what the hell my parents have to do with Larsen.

  Then, front and center, a picture flashes on the screen of the three of them together.

  “Fuck. Fuck!” I roar, my voice shaking the loose objects in the room.

  I toss the phone onto the counter in front of me and lean forward, sliding my fingers through my hair. Nausea wells in my throat.

  She wouldn’t. There is no way. But then again I’ve only ever known betrayal. The closer you become to someone the easier it is to hurt you.

  “Get out, you fucking bitch. You have no idea what you’re saying.”

  “Hey,” both Elena and Michael cry out in unison. “You do not speak to her that way,” Michael’s cracking voice declares.

  “When she’s riding my cousin’s coattails, I can speak to her however I want. I suggest you both get out of here this second or I’m calling security.”

  Despite the feeling of disloyalty surging through me, I crack a smile at Tessa’s forcefulness to protect me. She would fight to the death.

  The door slams behind the exiting couple and I take a forceful breath of air.

  “Don’t believe her,” Tessa claims as she spins on her heels and grabs her phone.

  “I don’t know what to believe.”

  “Yes, you do. You know Larsen. She wouldn’t do this.”

  “Wouldn’t she? She loves her uncle; she’d do anything to help him. You’d do the same for your family, wouldn’t you? And that picture is some damning evidence, Tessa.”

  “The picture is taken from the outside. She was serving them food, Devyn. Don’t let Elena fill your head with lies.”

  “What about the interview?”

  At Tessa’s silence, I know the cat has her tongue. I’m not wrong and she can’t argue her point further. Everyone has a breaking point. Everyone has a price that they’re willing to pay to save someone they love.

  “You need to go talk to her.”

  “I just need a few minutes.”

  “No. Not on the phone. You need to calm down and soak it in. This needs to be done in person. You’ll always question the truth otherwise.”

  “Yeah, you’re right.”

  The clock in the trailer ticks time awa
y, a perfect metronome counting the slipping beats of my sanity. Our collective breaths are nothing more than background noise behind the steady thump.

  Looking up in the mirror, bright incandescent lights illuminate the glass square my face and body pose perfectly in the middle. Spotlight solely on me. Behind me against the shelving unit and wall Tessa hovers, the shine of the light dying by the time it reaches her.

  Our eyes meet and I ask a question that has been plaguing me for years. “Is this worth it, Tessa? I thought that this was what I wanted, what I needed, but I forgot how lonely it could be.”

  Tessa steps over to me and turns the chair so that I’m facing her directly. “You don’t remember because you masked the loneliness and pain with addictions. And it’s not lonely if you surround yourself with the right people – me and my family, Quinn, and Larsen.” I cringe when Tessa mentions her name. “I’m going to book you a flight. You need to figure things out. I’m sure there is an explanation for all of it.”

  “Thanks, Tessa.”

  “And don’t worry; I’ll handle Elena and the director. I’ll buy you some time. Now I suggest you go pack a bag. I’m pretty sure I can get you out in the next two hours.”

  “That’s why I pay you the big bucks,” I say in jest, craving a lightening of my mood.

  “Ha, you pay me crap. I only stick around so I can meet other famous people.”

  “Yeah, Yeah.”

  Pushing my shoulder, she shoves me from the chair and almost out of the trailer.

  “Now, get out of here. Go.”

  ~

  The town seems smaller than I remember. Maybe it’s because my world is closing in around me, perhaps it's because Tommy refused to stay in L.A. and said he needed to travel with me. I couldn’t argue that having extra security was a good idea at the time. But now as we travel in the rental car down Main Street, I’m changing my tune. It feels as if I’m bringing my celebrity life here instead of leaving it where it belongs.

  We pass the market, the lot only half-full of decade-old sedans and trucks. The bowling alley comes into view and my chest aches as I remember my date with Larsen. Even though she argued we were just friends, I knew that we shared a mutual attraction, but she hadn’t wanted to end up hurt. Hindsight must be the fucked up cousin of Fate.