Incidental Happenstance

by DeSalvo, Kim

  Tia forced herself into autopilot to get through the next few days, which were spent in a flurry of putting up bulletin boards, preparing lessons, creating name tags, passing out books, doing inventory, attending meetings, and preparing for the start of a new school year. It kept her busy, which was a blessing. At first, she brought her InHap discs and played them while she was working, but she soon found that she couldn’t focus on her work when Dylan’s voice was all around her. She switched over to internet radio which helped some, but when an InHap song came on she’d stop instantly, reveling in the sound of his voice; her mind conjuring up images from the tour.

  On the nights when there weren’t InHap shows, she’d run out at one or two o’clock and rush home to wait for a call from Dylan. He had another week in Europe, and then he’d be going to spend some time with his parents in Australia where the time difference between them would jump from seven to seventeen hours, making it even more difficult to stay in touch. They talked or video chatted for hours, the distance between them shrinking with the contact. Sometimes, they’d watch the same movie together on speaker phone, talking and sharing like they were on a date.

  When Dylan wasn’t available she’d go out with one of the girls from school, hang out at Paddy’s, or meet up with Lexi after work. She completely avoided the country club and a possible run in with Jace, but so far she hadn’t heard anything from him, so she hoped that he’d gotten the message that she was in love and no longer available; not that she hadn’t made it incredibly clear that she was never going to be available to him regardless. It was the nights that were hardest, though, when she was alone with her thoughts. She spent much of the time at her computer, putting together pictures and videos from her summer, creating a documentary of their time together, using Dylan’s music as a background. It would be gift for him at Christmas, she thought, and was a gift to her now. At least it made the empty hours pass by.

  ***

  Dylan woke up, grabbed some coffee, and wandered into his mother’s studio where she was taking advantage of the early morning light streaming in through the huge windows. It was a sunset landscape she was painting—a replica of a picture Dylan had sent her from Italy. He recognized the scene as soon as he saw her canvas, and remembered Tia sitting beside him as he captured the explosive colors of dusk with his camera. His thoughts drifted to her and he picked up his guitar and began strumming the opening chords of Worlds Collide. His mother was deeply engrossed in her work, but she turned to him and smiled warmly, indicating with a finger that she’d be ready for a break soon.

  His arrival the night before had been a flurry of activity; aunts, uncles, cousins and friends filled the house to welcome him home and it had been a great evening. It had been more than a year since he’d been back—recording and touring had been constant, and the distance was too great to travel for short periods of time. He usually liked to spend a month, but he had less than a week here now before he shot south to New Zealand for the movie. Spending time alone with his mother in her studio was therapy for him and he relaxed into the song, knowing he couldn’t set a more perfect mood for what she was painting.

  “That’s something new, isn’t it?” she asked. “It sounds polished.”

  “It’s pretty complete, I think,” he answered.

  She put down her brush and wiped her smeared hands on her stained work pants. “You seem pretty complete, too, Dyl,” she smiled. She stood and pulled her boy into an embrace. “It’s so good to have you home,” she whispered.

  “I’m glad to be home,” he said, “I just wish it could be a longer stay.”

  “But you’ll be here for Christmas, and I couldn’t be happier about that.” She curled herself into the huge wicker chair alongside Dylan’s and smiled at him. “Now,” she said. “Tell me about this girl who’s got my baby’s head and heart all tangled up.”

  Dylan smiled back at her and leaned his guitar against the wall, settling in himself. He’d always loved having heart-to-heart talks with her in here—it was such a warm and inviting space, and his mother was completely at ease in it.

  “She’s the one, Mum,” he said simply, his grin widening. “There’s nothing tangled about it. I’m bringing her here for Christmas, and I can’t wait for you to meet her. I just know you’re going to love her too.”

  She reached out her hand and he wrapped his own around it. “I can see it all over your face,” she said. “You told me on the phone, but I couldn’t be sure until I saw it in your eyes.” He smiled at her again, and she saw the sparks there. “And there it is. My baby’s in love! I’m so happy for you Dyl—it’s the one thing you’ve been missing in your life; I know.” She squeezed his hand. “And if you love her, I’m sure we will too.”

  “I know you will. She’s just an amazing person in every way. Come on,” he said, pulling her up from the chair. “It’s easier to show you. I’ve got about a thousand pictures and videos to share with you—you’ll see exactly why I fell for her.”

  Chapter 26

  Penelope was sitting in a lounge chair outside his trailer when he arrived at the enormous camp the studio had set up for the cast and crew. It looked like a small town, and Dylan tried to take it all in as a crew member drove him to his new accommodations in a golf cart. “Well, look who decided to show up,” she smiled, extending her hand. “Nice to see you again, Dylan.”

  He was a bit surprised at her casual greeting after the way she’d acted when he last saw her, and hoped it was a positive sign. “And you as well,” he replied formally, shaking her hand.

  “I’ve been here a couple days already, so I can show you the layout,” she said.

  “Is there a map or something?” he joked. “This place is huge! I don’t even think I could find my way back to where I came in.”

  Penelope giggled. “Well, it’s not actually as crazy as it seems,” she said. “The Village is set up kind of like a wagon wheel, and each spoke is assigned to a different group. Like, one spoke is for the camera people, one for producers and directors, one for lighting and set design—you get the idea. Our spoke has twelve units, and the best view,” she swept her arm across the expanse of empty field that ran in front of their accommodations. Dylan could see the line of another spoke, but it was a fair distance away. “Your trailer is right here, the one next door is for your assistant, mine is the next, then my assistant, then Bruce Dinsmore and his assistant, Sadie Cochran and hers, Trent Savage and his, then wardrobe and make-up.” She pointed down the line of little boxes.

  “There’s kind of a common area in the middle of the wheel,” she continued, “everyone’s just calling it ‘The Hub,’ and there’s a little store there with some basic staples like bottled water, bread, milk, eggs, pop, canned stuff—that sort of thing. We’re a half-hour drive from town, so it’ll come in real handy. There’re some people from the store who’ll be going into town regularly, so if you bring them your lists, they’ll pick things up for you. There’s a bonfire pit and some barbeque grills there, too, and people are already starting to hang out there in the evenings, so it’s best to do your shopping in the morning.”

  “OK, well thanks,” he said, stepping inside his trailer and looking around the little box that would be his home for the next several months. He turned back to Penelope, who’d kicked off her shoes and taken a seat on his sofa. He couldn’t believe that she thought it would be OK to just get comfortable in his space after the encounter they’d had in spring, and he didn’t intend to allow it to happen. “I don’t mean to be rude,” he said, “but I’ve had a long day, so I’m just going to…” his voice trailed off and he motioned with his hand toward the door, indicating that she take her leave.

  She jumped up off the couch. “Oh, OK, I didn’t mean to intrude or anything…” she started out the door, then turned back. “Dylan? There’s just one thing before I go,” she said softly. “Let’s get this out in the open right away because I don’t want it always hanging between us. I really want to apologize for our first m
eeting. It was wrong of me to…”

  “Forget about it,” he said curtly. “Ancient history.” He was going to have to work with this woman for the next few months; at times in smothering proximity; and he needed to keep things civil. He was already dreading the love scenes they’d have to film, but it would be even worse if there was hostility between them.

  “No, I can’t,” she replied. “Please just let me have my say, and then we can put it all behind us.”

  “Fine.” He wandered around the tiny trailer—luxurious by general trailer standards, but a little box, just the same. His bags had already arrived and he unzipped his duffle, pulling out a picture of him and Tia in Paris that he placed on a little shelf alongside the love seat that made up the main area of the trailer. He put a picture of his parents next to it, and continued unpacking, waiting for her to say what she needed to say.

  Penelope glared at the picture over Dylan’s shoulder and took a deep breath before continuing, gritting her teeth. “That night in Chicago I was totally out of line about a lot of things, and I’m terribly embarrassed by my behavior. I was so excited about getting the part and then even more excited when I found out I’d be working with you. I’ve followed your career, both of them, actually, and have a lot of respect for you being able to juggle them both without going crazy.” She laughed, “I have a hard enough time just dealing with the Hollywood drama.” She waited for a response, but all he gave her was a little grunt that indicated he still might be listening as he continued to unpack.

  She wanted to force him to look at her—she’d worked really hard to plaster just the right look of apology on her face, but she was forced to try and convey it with her voice. “There’s no excuse for the way I acted, but I’d just come off a really rough couple months; a box office nightmare and a bad breakup; and, well, you know how it is. People think they know me because of the roles I play. For you, they think they know even more because of your music. They think you are your songs, and well, I guess I was a little guilty of it as well. I started listening to your music—I’d heard it before of course, and have all your CDs—but the more I listened, the more I thought we could be connected.”

  Dylan finally turned to her and looked her right in the eye. “We cannot be connected,” he said firmly.

  “I know,” she rushed. “It was stupid of me. I insulted your girlfriend,” she had to work to keep a straight face when she said ‘girlfriend,’ “and I really regret it. I can see by that picture that you’re still together, and I had no business interfering.”

  “I’m in love with her,” Dylan said frankly, “and what you said to her was inexcusable, selfish, and rude.”

  “I couldn’t agree more, and I’m so sorry. I’d be happy to apologize to her myself, if that would make you feel better.”

  “No need. I’ll pass on the message.” He could just imagine calling Tia and handing the phone over to Penelope Valentine. Tia’d climb through the phone to wring her neck, he thought, then instantly thought that it would be worth it if she could really climb through the phone and into his arms. He returned to his unpacking, glancing back up at the picture they’d taken at the top of the Tower, shortly after he’d told her he loved her for the first time. There was so much joy in both their faces, and it always warmed his heart to look at it.

  “I just want you to know that I wasn’t myself that day—that’s not the kind of person that I truly am, and I really regret that your first impression of me was such a bad one. I really hope that we can start over and be friends, and that once you get to know the real me, you’ll feel differently. It’s going to be a long few months away from everyone we care about, and it would be so much easier if we were OK with each other. That’s all I ask. No pressure.”

  He turned back to face her. “As long as you understand that friends are all we can ever be,” he said, “we won’t have any problems.”

  “Great!” she smiled, her demeanor changing. “You won’t be sorry, I promise! So then, as your friend, I’ve made you a list of the best delivery places in town—which remember is a half hour away, so be prepared for some hefty delivery fees—and have taken the liberty of stocking your fridge with some staples and making you dinner. A peace offering, if you like.”

  “I’m not really hungry,” he said. Although he was actually famished after the flight and the journey to the set, he definitely didn’t want to spend his first evening having dinner with Penelope.

  “I’ll just leave it for you,” she said, “and I’ll get out of your way so you can unpack and get settled. I’ve already eaten, actually, but I thought you might be hungry after the long day of traveling. That flight is a real bitch.” He didn’t remind her that he’d only come from Melbourne, just a three and a half hour flight, for fear that she’d take that as an invitation to stay. She left, and returned less than a minute later balancing a large platter covered with aluminum foil. “Let me know if you need anything else—I’m just two trailers down. I’ll see you for rehearsal in the morning,” and with that, she left and walked toward her own trailer.

  Dylan unpacked a few more things, hanging clothes in the tiny closet and tossing some jeans into the miniscule dresser. He pulled his large envelope of pictures from the summer tour out of his carry on and started sticking them in places where he’d always be reminded of Tia—in the corner of the bathroom mirror, under magnets on the fridge, propped up on the nightstand next to the bed, along the edges of frames hanging on the walls that held generic landscapes designed to make the box feel more like home. Finally, the aroma coming from the plate started getting to him and his stomach insisted he peel back the foil to check out the contents. He moaned hungrily when he saw a T-bone, a baked potato, and some mixed vegetables—it was just what he needed to put his angry stomach to rest. He nuked the plate, pulled some butter and sour cream out of the little fridge, and reveled in finding a few bottles of cold beer. He put together his makeshift dinner and glanced at the picture of him and Tia. It was going to be a long few months, he thought as he sat down to eat alone.

  Penelope went back to her trailer and flopped onto the couch. Her first act had gone well, she thought. She could see the look of confusion in Dylan’s eyes when she apologized so openly, with just the right amount of humility thrown in for good measure. That was the first part of the plan—keep him guessing—win his trust in bits and pieces without being too obvious. She hadn’t been sure that Dylan would still be involved with that woman, but after seeing them in Europe; she’d considered it as a possibility and written a contingency plan. It put a few different twists on things, but it was nothing she couldn’t handle. She’d let them have their long distance relationship for now—she was the one who got to see Dylan every day, after all, and that had to drive the bitch crazy. Tia had to know there were some steamy love scenes involved in the movie—Penelope was willing to bet the little teacher had read the book and maybe even the script. She’d give it a few weeks, maybe a month to gain his trust, and then she’d enlist her accomplice to blow things out of the water, if she needed to. Her hope was that spending time together would make Dylan forget about what’s-her-face and that he’d fall for her on his own. A lot of time had gone into researching how to be his perfect mate, but she was an Oscar nominee after all; she could play any role, and this was very possibly the biggest of her life. Either way, by the time Christmas came Dylan would be hers; they’d build their romance in Bora Bora, and by the time they finished filming, they’d be Hollywood’s hottest couple and she’d be back on top of the world.

  Penelope showed up at Dylan’s door at eight the next morning. He could feel the thick fog that came from lack of sleep in a strange bed as soon as he opened his eyes, and he rolled out, pulling on the jeans and t-shirt from the night before as he made his way to the door. It was only a few steps, but he’d spent enough time living on tour busses to appreciate that at least he had the place to himself.

  God he looked sexy right out of bed, Penelope thought when he opened the doo
r. His long blonde hair was mussed and tumbled around his face and the shadow of a beard gave him a rough-edged look that she found more than a little appealing. Soon, she thought, she’d be waking up next to him every morning, and the mental pictures she was conjuring sent shivers up her spine. “Good morning!” she said brightly. “Did I wake you?” Dylan grunted something incoherent and she was quick to apologize. “I’m sorry,” she said sweetly. She held up a casserole dish. “I do come bearing breakfast though—French toast casserole. We have a cast meeting at ten, and I thought maybe we could go over some of our lines for the afternoon rehearsal.”

  Dylan swung the door wider and motioned for her to come inside. He was barely awake and felt like he hadn’t slept at all in the rock hard and tiny bed that would be his for the next few months, but his stomach rumbled at the spicy smell that wafted from the dish. He was going to have to rehearse with her, he knew that, but he didn’t want to get into the habit of sharing his meals with her. Her apology and casual air the day before gave him some hope that she’d given up on the idea of them having ‘chemistry,’ but he knew if she started pushing things with him romantically, he’d have to lay down the law. It was the first day, though, and he figured he’d give her the benefit of the doubt; plus his stomach was rumbling once again. He’d have to put together a list and drop it off at The Hub today so he could at least fend off starvation on his own until Jessa’s arrival in two days.

  He motioned to the little table that served as dining, desk and storage, pushed his laptop out of the way, and went into the tiny bathroom to splash some cold water over his face and run a comb through his hair. After brushing his teeth he felt a bit more human, and he stepped out to see that Penelope had already started coffee and set the table for two.

  “Coffee,” he grumbled. “I need some of that before I can even think.”