The Scene Stealer: A Hollywood Romance

by Renee Harless

  “Sure, you will. I really like that Porsche you bought.”

  “It’s yours.”

  “Well, let’s make sure you make it through the day first.”

  Taking the whiskey bottle with her, Tessa moves to the small attached bathroom and empties the contents while I get in the safety suit the wardrobe team dropped off when I arrived this morning.

  We walk together toward the starting point of the track. It’s a course that scales through the valley and the hills, mostly used for testing new model designs for stability. The car I’m driving today is the exact same model I’ve been practicing in for weeks. At this point, the moves should come as muscle memory.

  But today is different. This moment is different. Not only do I need to complete this in one take with various camera angles filming at once, but I have the watchful eyes of Larsen on me. The sense of clarity is overwhelming.

  Now I know what it’s like to be without her, to live each day knowing that I won’t hear her voice or listen to that melodic giggle I’ve grown to love.

  With her being here, I feel my heart inflating in my chest, beating wildly at the thought of reconnecting with its other half.

  The stunt coordinator steps over and we go through the drawing of the track again. He tells me where to slow down and accelerate without the need for using the brakes. I’m told that it will make the car much smoother through the turns and more aggressive in the straight-aways.

  Finally, I get the go-ahead to get settled in the car and prepare for the shot. The director tells me where he would prefer my hands during the shot and where to put my hand on the shifter. He points to the internal camera embedded against the roof in a stabilizer.

  The pressure would suffocate most, but I’m thriving. This is my element. And I’ve got one hell of a prize waiting for me at the end.

  From the small rearview mirror, I watch as the crowd grows along the fence. And I’m sure that I’m seeing things, but I catch a glimpse of blonde hair blowing in the breeze and I imagine that it’s Larsen standing front and center.

  The clapboard slaps shut and I take off, handling the car with ease. I follow the path just as discussed and the car moves around the track like second nature. At one point, I fear that I won’t make the turn, but I expertly slide the back of the car into a drift. It’s more than the director has called for, but I’m sure he isn’t disappointed with the artistic outcome.

  The endpoint comes into view and my body tingles beneath my suit. I’m practically crawling in my skin in my haste to get to Larsen.

  As I approach the crowd waiting on the track to take the car and assist me I work the brakes, but the vehicle never slows. I depress the pedal repeatedly, but the car doesn’t brake on the downhill descent.

  “Fuck,” I shout, knowing that this is going to hurt. Due to the filming inside the car, I’m not wearing a helmet and I’m not sure if the airbags will deploy in the modified vehicle.

  I’m left with two options: head toward the fence with the onlookers or steer toward the concrete barrier. Jerking the car to the right, I skid the car across the grass until the car crashes into the hard surface.

  My neck aches from the whiplash, chest burning from the seatbelt, pulling me away from the steering wheel.

  During the spin, the driver’s side of the car collided with the wall, and as I pull on the handle, the door doesn’t budge. Fear spikes and for a split second, I wonder if this is how Larsen felt during her accident.

  Fuck, this is probably taking her back to that moment. I think to myself.

  Trying not to panic, I unhook the harness and move across the center console toward the passenger side. That’s when the smell of gasoline reaches my nose.

  Despite my aches, I work quickly to open the passenger door and crawl away from the car toward the back, the ambulance and crew making their way toward me. The sound of the sirens is muffled by the burst of the explosion. I watch in fascination as the flames engulf the front of the car.

  One of the on set EMTs reaches me first and asks if I’m okay or if I’m hurt. I assure him over and over that I’m fine, just shaken up.

  The director and Tessa are the next to greet me, my cousin sliding down to the ground where I sit as she checks me over herself.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” I tell the director as he approaches. “I had no brakes and I couldn’t risk driving into the crowd. I can replace the car and pay for the reshoot,” I try to explain.

  “I don’t care about the car, I care about you. No brakes, you say?”

  “Yeah, the stunt team and I discussed how to drive the course with very little brakes, just using the natural flow of the car, but when I pressed the brake pedal, there was nothing.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll get it figured out. I’m glad that you’re okay. And as for the shot, I’m almost positive that we got it. Get checked out and then take the rest of the day off.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You’re probably going to need to call Quinn,” Tessa adds as the crowd begins to disperse.

  I ignore my cousin, my need to see Larsen growing with every second. “Take me to her, Tessa. After this, I need to see her.”

  “Yeah, okay. She’s waiting for us at Craft services.”

  Instead of riding the golf cart back off the track Tessa and I opt to walk. I need it to stretch my muscles and clear my head. And Tessa isn’t going to let me out of her sight for the next few days, I fear.

  The crowd parts for us as we advance, and for a moment, I feel like Moses parting the Red Sea. My eyes seek out Larsen, my soul seeking its mate.

  I don’t see her at first glance. And after a second sweep my blood starts pulsating in my veins when I don’t see her.

  “Tessa?” I call out to my cousin who is doing her best to search through the crowd with me.

  “I don’t see her, Devyn. Maybe she found Quinn or Trevor? They were watching in the production trailer.”

  I don’t tell her that something doesn’t feel right. That something prickles the back of my neck in dread. It feels like spiders crawling across my skin.

  Together we move through the gathering of people toward the largest trailer. As we weave through the lines of large white masses, a door opens to my right and Quinn steps out.

  “Oh my gosh, Devyn. Are you okay?”

  As Quinn rushes toward us, her husband stumbles down from the trailer following her.

  “I’m fine. Um, did you happen to see Larsen? Tessa said that she is here.”

  Spinning on her heels, the wholesome woman seethes toward her husband. “See, I told you that was her!”

  With their eyes locked on each other, I feel like an interlude in some strange sexual mind game that they have going on. But my urgency to find Larsen grows higher with each second, my patience wearing thin.

  “Quinn, did you see which way she went?”

  She gives her husband one final squinted glare then turns back to me as if we’re standing in a field of daisies.

  “I saw her try to get to you. She was frantic. Maybe it was because of her accident, but she went so far as to start scaling the fence. After that, I lost her.”

  “Is there anyone else that may have seen her or spoken with her?” My heart is battering against my chest, striking the bones with full force with every beat.

  Stepping into our group, Trevor wraps his arm around his wife’s shoulders, but his eyes are hard, calculating. “When we first arrived, she was speaking with Elena. Let me get my gear and I’ll go with you.”

  “No, no. You stay with Quinn. I’m going to grab Tommy and see if we can figure out anything.”

  “Guys,” Tessa chimes in, her nose almost buried against the screen of her phone. “She’s in a car traveling north on Interstate 5.”

  A woozy feeling falls over me, the people around me growing hazy and my body feeling the force of gravity. “She left?” I ask.

  But why would she leave after traveling all this way?

  “Maybe? I don’t know, De
vyn, but something isn’t adding up. And if she was going to leave, she’s heading in the wrong direction. We flew into LAX.”

  “Keep tracking her car. I’m going to get Tommy to see if Elena knows where she might be heading and I’m going to get out of this suit. Meet back here in fifteen, okay?”

  Tessa frantically nods and rushes off to find a vehicle while I text Tommy to meet me in my trailer.

  Quinn reaches out and her small smile wobbles knowing that my worst fear may be coming true. She doesn’t need to say anything, words are useless and time-consuming at this point, but I nod in understanding before heading toward my trailer to get out of this racing suit.

  Fifteen minutes later, we reconvene in the parking lot, none of us any wiser to Larsen’s whereabouts. All Tommy learned from Elena was that the two has spoken and she told her that her own sister is severely scarred from burns. Elena and Michael were in a rush to get back to her trailer.

  As a group we decide to follow Larsen using Tessa’s app. Tommy brings around the towncar and Tess and I slip inside.

  I sit in the back seat, hating being chauffeured when I’d much rather press the accelerator to the floorboard to catch up to Larsen as quickly as possible. But Tessa needs to sit up front to help Tommy navigate.

  “We’re about an hour and a half behind her. The car just passed through Fort Tejon Park.”

  So much time. Time for me to run through scenarios in my head. The good. The bad. The ugly. Thoughts where Larsen surprises me in some way. Thoughts where she was the one that cut the brakeline in the car. Thoughts where someone has taken her.

  While I was getting changed, I had texted her uncle to learn if he knew of her plans, but the conversation had come up short. No one knew anymore than I did.

  Twenty minutes later, I still don’t know anything. Celebrity is supposed to offer you some sort of special privileges – free clothes, compensated meals, penthouse suites, but the things that truly matter, the things that require answers, you’re no different than anyone else.

  The landscape grows more mountainous, the terrain jagged and rough on either side of the road and I aimlessly watch the scenery unfold before my eyes.

  “Devyn.”

  “Hmm?” I ask, turning my gaze toward her. My eyes burning from the unshed tears.

  “Her car has stopped. It’s at an old airplane hangar just outside Wheeler Ridge.”

  “You think she’s leaving?”

  Tessa’s gaze flicks down and I can see that she’s putting all the parts together in her head, adding up each individual scenario until a scene plays out in her mind.

  “No, I think. . .I think someone has her.”

  “The letters.” My voice starts off small, child-like in its speculation, but grows into a petrifying scream as the clues piece together. “The fucking letters!”

  Tommy and Tessa are very aware of the threats Larsen had been receiving, but like Officer Tawny, neither paid them much attention since I received similar fan mail as a daily occurrence. “We’ll be there in forty-five minutes, Devyn.”

  “What if it’s too late?”

  “Don’t worry. I’m going to make sure that nothing goes in or comes out of that building.”

  Before Larsen, my worst nightmare was never making it back to the top of the game. Never getting a golden statue to add to my mantle of various awards. Never getting to the pinnacle of success in my career.

  Now? Now my worst nightmare doesn’t even compare to the horror I’m living through. Larsen is the dream I never gave myself the chance to envision. And just when I had it within reach, someone is trying to take it away.

  My knee shakes the entire back seat as it bounces up and down in anticipation, my anxiety at a level it’s never reached before. Fear and elation struggle against each other disputing which emotion will reign supreme.

  Off in the distance, I see the hangar surrounded by a sea of police vehicles. The sound of sirens shatters our eardrums as we exit the car, the flashing lights casting red and blue variances on the aluminum siding and ground.

  I rush over, but I'm immediately pushed back away from the line of officers. They stand behind their doors with their guns drawn at the front entrance. An older man stands with a bullhorn speaking calmly to whoever is inside the terminal.

  My eyes dart around the barren space, the only object for miles in the field is the hangar. I’m looking for anything that can get me closer to her. Even without seeing Larsen, I know that she’s here. Something inside me burns in her company.

  Darting to the left, I take note of a small door tucked behind an outgrowing of bushes.

  Tommy must be able to sense my plan because he places a strong hand on my shoulder, halting my movements. “Sir, I would advise against that. You go in there and they have to shoot. There’s not much chance of anyone walking away.”

  “I can’t just sit back and wait.”

  “I know, sir. But it’s going to be better for her.”

  Diving my hands into my hair, I look up at the sky, pondering why this is happening to her, to me. As if we haven’t been through enough in our lives.

  “Hey, I found a way in.” Tessa chimes in surprising us at her reappearance.

  Without a hair out of place or a ragged breath to be had, she doesn’t look like she’s been anywhere. I hadn’t even noticed that she had gone off.

  My eyes plead for her to continue.

  “On the other side of the building there is another entrance. It looks like a sign, but it actually swings open.”

  “Why would they design it that way?”

  “Hidden escape? I don’t know, Devyn. I just know it’s there. I was able to open it.”

  “Fuck, let’s go.”

  The cops pay us no mind as we move to the other side of the building all while Tommy murmurs the entire way about how idiotic we’re being, but by the smile on his face, I can tell that he is secretly enjoying this.

  Tessa gets to the door first and starts pulling at the edge then Tommy pushes her aside as he effortlessly slides the door open.

  A few cops witness our endeavor and the new opening, then call out to the others that a back way has been found, but it’s all static in my ears as I step inside.

  A black sedan sits parked behind a small Cessna, I’ve seen both before. The back doors to the car are open and I can make out Larsen’s limp body lying across the seats.

  Just as I’m about to take off in her direction, one of the officers slips by us and rushes toward a man standing by the plane with his phone pressed against his head. He’s hysterically speaking in a language I don’t understand, but as he notices the officers approaching, he tries to make a run for it.

  Gunshots fire and the man falls to the ground with a thud.

  Slowly I draw closer to the car, afraid of what I may find. I call out her name to no answer. The walk feels like swimming against a rip current, draining all your energy but going nowhere. Finally, I reach the small confines and I have to force myself to look inside.

  Leaning into the vehicle, I can finally feel my lungs fill with air when I notice her chest moving up and down, her body seeming unharmed.

  Delicately I push the hair away from her face and I have to force myself to keep from breaking down.

  “Sir, would you like me to carry her?”

  Hell no. No one is going to touch her, ever, if I have anything to say about it.

  “No, I’ve got her.”

  Her soul must recognize me instantly because Larsen’s body tilts closer as I lift her in my arms. Even without consciousness, she seeks me out.

  As the large doors to the hangar open to let the other officers investigate, movement from the far corner catches my eye. A slight man walks out of what appears to be a storage unit. He walks with purpose toward the plane, keys dangling from his fingers, until he notices the commotion before him.

  “What the?” Tessa asks as he spins around looking for an escape.

  An officer tackles him to the ground and his t
hin wired frames slide across the floor until they land about an inch away from my feet.

  Tessa picks them up in confusion until she takes in my angered expression. My entire face burns with the fury simmering beneath the surface.

  “Michael?” she asks in confusion.

  “The cops better get their questions answered because I’m going to kill him.”

  The officer lifts the now handcuffed assistant up from the floor and his eyes meet mine. They’re crazed and wild, and as they tug him away, he begins to fight against the hold.

  “You can’t prove anything,” he says maniacally. But as the officer reads him his rights, his already demented face distorts into someone I don’t recognize. He looks like a rabid animal lashing out. “She was supposed to have it all!” he shouts. “She deserves it all!

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN – LARSEN

  Against my cheek, the feel of soft cotton caresses my skin. I snuggle into the material wanting to feel it all over. It’s far better than the scratchy fake velour of the seat in the towncar.

  The cloth.

  The fear.

  My eyes pop open as I remember Michael shoving me into the vehicle. I lost consciousness before we even made it out of the parking lot.

  In my ear I can hear my heart start pounding, my limbs jerk against my body, protecting myself as I tug the covers sheltering me tightly in my grip. The room is unfamiliar, the light blue walls doing little to soothe me as I crawl back against the headboard in fear.

  A scream erupts from my lungs, purging from my diaphragm before I have a chance to stop it. My throat aches at the shrill, but I can’t stop.

  Pounding sounds from outside the door, heavy footsteps rushing toward the room.

  I cower back into the corner of the bed, weighing my chances of hiding from the soon-to-be intruders. But I don’t have time when the door swings open, exposing two males and a lone female.

  At first the trio seem unfamiliar, but as the closest male steps into the room, my heart distinguishes him immediately – Devyn.

  His feet tangle with themselves as he trips into the room approaching the bed. But he effortlessly catches himself and hoists himself onto the furniture, his large body landing beside me. Together we bounce as the mattress counters back at his descent, and during the movement, my arms extend out to him, desperate for his closeness.