Already he made four phones calls to her house, each time hanging up before the first ring. Was he being too presumptuous by calling so much so soon? Though, time is subjective when feelings are involved. Twenty-four hours felt like twenty-four days to him. And what would he say when she picked up? Either he’d stumble over his words and end up looking a fool, or else he’d chicken out and hang up at the sound of her voice. It was too soon for him to reveal just how much of an emotional wreck he was over her. The cool-calm-and-collected Marc was reduced to a bumbling ball of nerves. While he hated being so vulnerable, he loved what he felt.
Without definite assurance she shared the same feelings toward him, he needed something better than a failed phone call to boost his confidence. He needed a run-in. Nothing too obvious. Just something to test the waters and see if he could figure out where she stood with him. Not that understanding women was ever an easy feat.
Darkness was settling in, and the clouds began parting, opening the sky to millions of stars twinkling in all their glory. In the expanse above, a shooting star streaked across the blackness, leaving tiny sparkles in its wake. The cold air began to shroud his dwelling deeply hidden within the confines of the forest as an owl shrieked in the distance.
He needed to see her again. But how? And where?
“God, please show me what to do,” he spoke into the night air. A puff of frozen mist floated out of his mouth and evaporated into nothingness.
Like a lightning bolt striking him from above, he knew his answer. He knew how to get her attention, and perhaps hold it, too. It just had to be planned perfectly if it was going to work.
Chapter 15
Entry 6942
Another Saturday come and gone. Another birthday come and gone. Oddly, it didn’t hurt this year. Maybe just a little numb. I got a birthday card from my admirer this morning. And red roses. The flower of love. I spent more time pining over my flowers than I spent on my assignment for class. I’m running out of time. It’s the biggest opportunity of my life and I fear I’m blowing it. The story won’t gel. The characters won’t speak. For years I’ve had no problems finding the right words, but the past week it’s been a blank canvas with nothing to paint with. Is it writer’s block? I’ve purged my mind of everything else—Jake, Marc, Mom. Less distractions, but it’s not working. So why can’t I create? I must conquer whatever is blocking me, lest I surrender my only chance to get out of here. Out of Westfield. Please, Words, flow from my fingers like they do when I’m writing in my journal!
“Haley, you done?” Allen’s voice broke her concentration, making her abruptly aware that everyone else had already left the classroom.
“Oh, yeah. I’m sorry. I was just writing something.”
Watching him strain to see what she was writing, she slammed her journal shut and shoved it into her bag, then grabbed her belongings and stood up from her desk. Thoughts about last night’s conversation with her mother had finally taken a temporary backseat due to more pressing matters—time was ticking before she’d have to produce a smashing final screenplay to impress Allen. Already her second class of four was regrettably over much too soon. With only two weeks left, she had to make these last two weeks count; she’d have to stand out somehow.
The end of the learning process was growing near, and soon she’d be forced to keep her own head above water when his tutelage ended. Allen was her flotation device, and she feared her writing would sink below the surface once he left. There was only one way to rid her dependency, and that was through producing a brilliant final project. It was of utmost importance that Haley nail this last assignment, mainly because of the incentive attached to it: Allen would pitch the best final project to a producer friend in Hollywood. This was a huge break, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Representation out in California was exactly what she had dreamed of all these years…
If only her father could see how close she was. He’d be proud.
I have what it takes. So what was the problem? Why wouldn’t her brain function? There was only one person who could help her now. She needed to pick the brain of a Hollywood success story.
Her heels clicked against the tile floor as she walked to the door, then pivoted back to face Allen’s disheveled form hunched over his desk. There was a guarded something about him today that intimidated her, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on exactly what that was.
From across the room she blurted out, “Can I ask you something, Allen?”
He waved her toward him, with eyes still focused on his work.
“I was wondering something.” As soon as the words left her lips, she could no longer speak. This was harder than she thought, this asking for help. But she was desperate. Just ask. “I was hoping you’d still be willing to tutor me privately. Y’know, maybe look at my work and let me know if I’m on the right track.”
That wasn’t so hard.
“So you’ve decided to take this seriously, huh?” Allen asked. “I was wondering when you’d get around to finally taking me up on my offer.”
“I really want to succeed, but I’m having more trouble than I thought I would.”
“Writer’s block?” he probed.
“Exactly! How did you know? You reading my mind?”
Allen laughed. “It happens to the best of us.”
“So you can help me?” Haley asked hopefully.
“I have the perfect solution to that little problem of yours.”
Ten minutes later she heaved a sigh of relief as she left the room, satisfied with their dinner arrangements for that evening. They had settled on a welcoming diner on the corner of Main Street and Holt.
As well as serving a good meal, Vine City Restaurant housed several huge oak tables, wide enough for her to sprawl out her papers while leaving room for the oversized serving plates full of fish and a double helping of fries—one of her personal favorites. Locals joked that the building was so bound to its history that one could still hear the clink of milk bottles that once filled the rooms of this former dairy.
Haley pushed the heavy metal exit door that led out into the college campus parking lot. The northern February weather was just as bitter as ever. As she rushed to her car, battling fierce wind, she looked up and noticed ominous storm clouds approaching and her pace quickened to a run. She hoped to make it home before the clouds opened up and cast down their snowy wrath.
Once inside the calm of her car, she revved the engine and blasted her defroster. Even within the past couple of hours, a glaze of ice crusted all her windows. Reluctant to get out again to scrape them, Haley sat and waited for the ice to melt, mentally rehearsing some points she wanted to cover with Allen later that evening.
She tossed her bags in the backseat, when a sudden rattle startled her. Someone was prying at her door handle from the other side. The haze of ice blurred the intruder’s features. A fist smacked against the window, and she frantically pushed the lock down, thankful that her car door had a knack for sticking during winter’s bitter temperatures. The person was screaming, but the roar of the defroster muted the voice.
By the time she cranked the lukewarm heat down a couple of notches to a low hum, the voice stopped yelling. And then the shadow grew faint as the person, apparently, walked away.
Her heart raced and she sucked in a few throat-chilling breaths.
Whoever it was had given up. Haley peered through the glass, but a hazy outline still loomed on the other side, but this time at a safe distance. She pressed her face closer to the window, with her hands cupping around her eyes to remove the glare. It took a moment before she recognized the contour of the face and the color of the hair. Rolling down the window partway, she peered at the form. Sure enough, she found the bird legs of Allen Michaels pacing outside her car door.
“Allen!” she called, then waved him closer. “You scared me half to death.”
“I’m sorry. I thought you might be having car trouble so I figured I’d check on you.”
“No, I’m just t
oo lazy to scrape my windows. I’m fine, thanks.” Her heart wildly beat against her ribs as she took a couple calming breaths.
“Hey, um, I actually brought something to class for you but forgot to give it to you earlier.” He pushed a rumpled brown paper bag toward her through the small opening in the window. She hesitantly accepted it and looked up at him questioningly.
“Go ahead,” he prodded, “open it.”
She opened the bag and pulled out a book. A dark hooded figure holding a gun to his head stared back at her from the cover. It strangely resembled Allen with his jutting cheekbones and thick lips.
“What is this?”
“It’s a book I wrote. I thought you might like a copy. It’s an autobiography.”
The clenched jaw of the gunman on the cover evoked a foreboding expression. A shiver crept up her spine as cold, lifeless azure eyes leapt off the book jacket.
“This is you?”
“In a former life, yes.”
“Is that a real gun?”
“Yeah, but don’t ask if I used it. Just read the book.”
She arched an eyebrow up at the man who now seemed more like a stranger than a friend. She realized she knew absolutely nothing about him. This cover picture depicted a… menacing killer, not a professional screenplay writer. Who is he really?
“Th-thank you very much, Allen,” she finally sputtered, at a loss for any other words. “I’m sure I’ll enjoy it. That’s so nice of you.”
“It’s about some of my experiences back in L.A. Kind of raw, if you know what I mean, but worth sharing. You’ll have to let me know what you think.”
What she thought? She was terrified to find out what exactly the book would reveal about the person she’d be dining with this evening.
“Okay, I’ll do that.”
“Seriously, I’d love your feedback, your opinion on the book.”
Allen Michaels was asking for her opinion? She couldn’t decide if she was freaked out or flattered. As she replaced the book in its brown bag home, she considered it might provide an inside look at the life of this mystery character inching toward her car door. Haley just hoped she didn’t find out more than she could handle.
A mesh of ice and rain began falling and Allen conveniently found refuge for his balding blond head next to Haley’s window.
“Mind if I scoot in here?” he asked.
She leaned away to avoid his contact, then glanced at her defrosted front window and clicked on the wipers, pushing the remaining slush upward and outward.
“You should get out of this snow,” she suggested, nodding to her windshield. “You’re not exactly dressed for the weather. Gloves and a scarf are a must-have here.”
“Not where I come from. Maybe you can take me shopping sometime to help me buy all the essentials.” Unsure if he was joking or not, Haley let out a huffed laugh. “Guess I better get going before the roads get bad. I’ll see you at seven o’clock,” he reminded her as the icy mixture descended in quarter-sized drops.
“See you then.”
Haley watched her instructor trot to his car and disappear inside. She pulled the book out once again and stared at it, letting its alarming picture burn an image in her mind. With a goatee and sharp glare, he could have fit right into an America’s Most Wanted ad.
“Now I’m really curious to know what you’re all about,” she mumbled to the image on the book jacket. When she’d get around to finding out, it would be more than she bargained for. Tossing the book on the passenger’s seat, Haley drove home.
Chapter 16
When Allen got back to his one-room rental, he searched through his tiny yet meticulously organized closet looking for the perfect attire. Deciding on a loose, button-down shirt and a pair of jeans, Allen carefully placed the clothes on his bed. He was pleased with himself for his dating ingenuity: offering tutoring sessions to score dinner dates with Haley. He anticipated tonight’s success since he knew she’d want to be prepared for the final project. His strategy proved fruitful once again.
So far everything between them remained cordial but distant. He had hoped they’d be more personal by now, but time hadn’t permitted it just yet. Two classes over two weeks wasn’t nearly long enough to woo a woman into following him to Los Angeles; but a career opportunity of a lifetime was. Haley and Allen had spent a little more than eight hours together in a classroom setting, but he was ready to get to know this beautiful creature on a deeper level. At first it was purely physical attraction. Soon her appeal was reinforced with every new imagining. Every day since their first meeting Allen sweetly surrendered to visions of Haley. Everything she did and said reiterated one thing in his mind: She was perfect. Perfect for a broken man like himself.
She would be an ideal match—genuine, kind, and obviously eager about his creative interests. When she bounced into his classroom, her step was full of life. Yet she was submissively shy, too. Quiet, the type to stay out of his limelight, and enough of a follower to let him do the leading. Unlike his attention-starved ex who couldn’t resist competing for all the glory, Haley was exactly what he had been looking for: passive yet passionate. And at this stage in his life, he needed a zealous counterpart to carry on his work. The way she hung on his every word made it clear that she would happily carry out that task. She was the one, alright.
Allen spent time admiring Haley from afar. His tire tracks in front of her house proved his determination to know every little thing about her—from her morning routine to her bedtime habits. Haley was perpetually fifteen minutes late to everything. She always ate on the run, except for dinner when she’d usually eat at her mom’s house. She went to bed well after midnight. Her schedule was like clockwork.
Eventually Allen would tell her how he felt, in hopes that she would reciprocate the emotional attachment already cultivating inside him. Surprisingly, he wasn’t afraid that she would reject him. Sure, he had a blemished past, but it was forgivable. He suspected Haley was the kind of girl who would appreciate a good thing. And he was a good thing.
Examining himself in an oblong mirror precariously perched on top of his bureau, he pulled at the skin on his face. He had aged significantly in the past year, appearing much older than he actually was. Stress would do that to a person. But that part of his life was over now. His past was far behind him. How quickly a little joy could heal past wounds! Watching Haley develop her creative and artistic abilities could vicariously grant him a whole new life. Energy, excitement, pleasure—all of life was his oyster and Haley was his pearl.
Then the realization smacked him across his bony face: Haley must be the reason he was directed by some greater power to Westfield. She was the reason he left Los Angeles, and the last few dark weeks, behind. She was the reason he taught that class. All this was finally clear to him. She just didn’t know it yet, but she would find out soon enough. Tonight he planned to tell her his secret.
With a couple hours to kill, Allen plopped onto his bed and flicked on his bedside lamp. Perhaps a little meditation would settle his nerves. He folded his arms under his head and stared up at the ceiling, filling his imagination with visions of Haley. He wasn’t worried about sweeping her off her feet. He knew Haley, a country girl, would appreciate simple, sincere gestures. If only he could find the perfect way to show her how much he loved her.
He saw her hunger, her appetite for life. That had been him at one point in his life with starry-eyed zeal, but that was so long ago. Every Hollywood figure lost his innocent fervor eventually. Yet Haley reminded him of what it felt like back in the beginning of his career, and he would do anything to win her, including offering her the world. And he would. But time was growing short for him to tell her.
He needed to take that leap before it was too late.
He needed to make clear his intentions.
He had thought his desire for her was blatantly obvious, but perhaps not. Tonight he’d make sure there was no miscommunication.
As bright as Haley is, sometimes she can
be so blind, he thought. Her eyes would soon be opened.
Chapter 17
“I really appreciate your offer to help me, Allen,” Haley said as she slipped into the booth across from him at Vine City Restaurant a few minutes after seven o’clock. A little nervous at being alone with him, her eyes wandered around the open area, observing the trail of gray slush that must have dripped off of her boots from the front entrance all the way to her table. She felt like her voice boomed against the hush as she noted the limited number of patrons for a Saturday evening. Their waitress hustled to retrieve two glasses of water with lemon after dropping off their menus.
“I’ve been wanting to talk to you about my final project, and get some feedback from you on what I may need to work on more. I really want to be considered for that trip to Hollywood, Allen, and I’d be willing to do anything for it.”
Allen nodded. “Anything?”
His question shot an awkward sensation all through her, and her eyes resultantly averted his gaze. The only other patrons, as far as she could tell, were a family of four seated in the center of the restaurant and an elderly couple in the corner holding hands from across the table and talking quietly. Haley watched Allen glance over at the couple and the tiniest smile cracked his typically somber appearance.
The lighting was bright and cheerful, illuminating his piercing blue eyes and pallid skin. Stress lines etched across his forehead, deep like crevices that had been there for years. But oddly, he looked less haggard than when she saw him for the first time a week ago. Perhaps it was his eyes; they didn’t look so vacant anymore.
“Pretty much anything, within reason. Well, you know what I mean,” she finally answered.
“I’m just teasing you, Haley. I’m glad to help,” Allen replied. “So what do you think you need to work on?” He raised a blond eyebrow as he leaned in.
Pulling her briefcase to her side, Haley rifled through some papers and produced a yellow legal pad.
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