Incidental Happenstance

by DeSalvo, Kim

  “It’s almost done,” she said cheerfully. “I figured you might need some.”

  “Thanks,” he managed as he dropped himself into one of the chairs.

  She jumped up as soon as the pot was full and poured two cups. “Cream or sugar?” she asked.

  “Not today,” he said, holding out his arm palm-up. “Can you just put it right in a vein?”

  Penelope giggled and sat down opposite him, handing him a steaming mug and pulling out her copy of the script. “Did you have a chance to look at the filming schedule?” she asked. “I just got mine a few days ago. We’re going to start with the beginning and the flash-backs, then you’re off to do your wilderness scenes—hopefully by late next month, then it’ll be my city scenes—there’re a bunch where I think I see you in a crowd, so you’ll need to be there. That should take us up to the Christmas break, and then we have a couple weeks to finish up here before we head to Bora Bora for the big reunion scenes.” Dylan cringed a bit—that was where they’d film some pretty steamy action. Penelope, though, brushed right over it and continued, “I figured we’d run through the back story; then focus on the scenes we need to shoot next. Is that OK with you?”

  “That’s fine,” Dylan answered, taking a big pull from his mug and helping himself to a forkful of the casserole. “This is pretty good,” he said.

  “Thank you,” she said proudly. “It’s my favorite aunt’s recipe. It’s always a hit, and it gives me a little comfort of home, you know what I mean?” She’d actually had her assistant, Angela, pick it up from one of the bakeries in town the day before and had thrown it in the oven before she headed over, but he didn’t need to know that. Besides, she had to plant the ‘favorite aunt’ early, as she was part of a back-up plan and could potentially die in the near future. Figuratively, of course, since she didn’t really exist.

  “So, the back story?” Dylan prodded, scooping more casserole out of the pan. It was sweet, infused with cinnamon, and sprinkled with nuts; coupled with the strong black coffee, it was exactly what he needed and he felt the fog finally begin to lift.

  “Of course,” Penelope answered, and launched into her work. In some ways it was the typical story, boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy finds girl again; but there were some twists and turns that kept it fresh. Dylan’s character would be kidnapped by an angry drug cartel after witnessing a murder and being mistaken for someone else, then he’d be dragged into the wilderness where he eventually escapes and has to fight the elements and try to find his way back to civilization. Penelope would play the estranged wife who has to help the cops crack the case and falls in love with her husband all over again in the process. It would be billed as a chick flick, Dylan knew, but there was enough action that it would make for a good date movie. Although he was too humble to admit it out loud, he couldn’t help that his head swelled just a bit knowing that it was his accolade of sexiest man that the production company was counting on to pack the theaters.

  Acting was a completely different kind of work, and Dylan enjoyed the occasional break from the music scene. Lonely nights far from home were part of filming in a remote location, and Dylan usually took advantage of the down time to work on new music. The recent influx of emotions—meeting the girl of his dreams, falling in love, having to say goodbye—had all kinds of thoughts rolling around in his head, and he looked forward to sinking into the creative process of going from idea to actual song. For right now though, he tried to shake thoughts of Tia out of his head—that wasn’t help his concentration any—and ran through some lines with his co-star before heading out to the first day of many filled with meetings, rehearsals and filming.

  Chapter 27

  Tia skipped into her front door on Dylan’s first full day in New Zealand—they hadn’t been able to talk for days and he’d said he’d take a break and call her at 4:00 her time. She held the phone in her hand, willing it to ring. When it finally did, her heart leaped in her chest.

  “Hi!” she said, falling onto the couch.

  “Hey gorgeous,” he replied casually, “miss me?”

  “It’s what I do best these days,” she replied. “I can’t seem to keep my head on much else.”

  “Well, I don’t mean to brag, or anything, but it’s already tomorrow for me, so I got to cross another day off the calendar.”

  “Not fair,” she pouted, smiling to herself. “So how’s New Zealand?” she asked.

  “Lonely,” he answered simply. “But I’m trying to make the best of it. It’s actually really beautiful here, though; lots of wide open spaces and wilderness. I could see taking a trip here sometime just for fun. You’d like it,” he added.

  “I know I would,” she said. “I’ve seen some shows on the nature channels that were filmed there, and it does look gorgeous.” She changed the subject. “So, I have to ask—how’s our little friend?” She was more than a little curious to know how Penelope had reacted to Dylan’s arrival.

  “So far, she’s fine,” he said. “Believe it or not, one of the first things she did once I got here was to apologize for her behavior. But you’ll like this even better—she even offered to call and apologize to you personally, if you wanted her to. I fielded that one for you, though. I really didn’t think you’d want to hear her voice, so I just said I’d pass along the message.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “You’re right about that. Hearing her voice would ruin any day of mine, even if she were apologizing. Somehow, I doubt the sincerity of anything that passes through her lips—unless she’s on a rampage, of course; then I believe everything.”

  “I thought so too,” he replied, “and I take it with a grain of salt, but it was still more than I expected.”

  “I just hate that she gets to see you every day, and I don’t,” Tia pouted.

  “And I hate that I see her every day instead of you,” he said, “but remember, you’re the one I’m madly in love with, so you have nothing to worry about.”

  “I’m so glad to hear that.”

  “I sent you a letter—I don’t know how long it takes to get there, but I’ll keep writing, and email, and call when I can—but I just bugged out at the very start of our first cast meeting to call you, and I got some pretty scary looks, so I’d best get back to work. Wish I could talk longer, but—it’s so good to hear your voice, and now I can get through the rest of the day.”

  “I wrote you too,” Tia replied, “and I understand, even though it sucks. I’ll talk to you soon—whenever you can—I know the time difference is going to be hard.”

  “I love you Tia, and I’m thinking of you every minute.”

  “I love you too, Dylan.”

  The call ended too fast, and Tia was left with the entire night ahead of her. She sat down and wrote Dylan another letter, telling him how much his call had meant to her and filling him in on the details of her first full week back at work. It was six pages long by the time she finished, and she tossed in a couple pictures of her in her classroom and with her students as an afterthought.

  Meetings and rehearsals went smoothly, and the director laid out the schedule for filming to the cast. He hoped to start shooting some short simple flashback scenes the next day, which meant that Dylan would have to spend some time with Penelope that night running lines. She offered to bring dinner over to his trailer so they could run through scripts over the meal then rehearse right after. He still didn’t want sharing meals to become a habit, but he’d never made it over to the damn Hub to drop off his list and still had nothing decent to eat at his place, so he gratefully accepted. “How do you do it?” he asked. “We’ve been here all day, and now you’re going to cook?”

  “Oh, my assistant Angela is just a dear. She does the shopping for me and helps me put things together. It’ll be no big deal, really. I’m just going to throw a salad together, cook up some pasta and garlic bread…I’ll be over in an hour, if that’s alright with you.”

  “Sounds fine,” he said, glad that he’d have some time to scribble another le
tter to Tia. He included some pictures he’d just had printed of the two of them in Prague. He figured he’d send a few from one of their destinations with each letter to remind her of the amazing summer they’d had. Hopefully it would fill in the gaps a little bit until they were together again at Christmas. He also included some pictures of the trailer and his immediate surroundings, including the expansive open field that was now his front yard. In the picture of the empty bed, he wrote over the blanket, “Wish you were here.”

  He addressed the envelope and set it on a little shelf next to the door, and then snagged a golf cart and ran over to The Hub to grab some staples and drop off a shopping list. He was more than a little disappointed to find that he’d missed out on a shopper—someone had already gone into town that day and was already on the way back—and there wouldn’t be another trip for a couple days. By that time, Jessa would be here, and she’d take care of it. The selection of food they had there was pathetic at best; he was going to be living on soup, cereal and eggs for two days; but he was determined to politely decline Penelope’s offers to continue cooking for him. Maybe he could score some leftovers from tonight to hold him over.

  Penelope arrived right on time juggling several dishes and a bottle of chilled wine. “The New Zealanders supposedly know how to make a good pinot gris,” she said, passing him some of the dishes, “I haven’t tried it yet, but it should go well with pasta.”

  “Oh, no wine for me,” he said, “I don’t drink before I work—at least not at the acting job. I’ll forget these lines in a minute if I don’t keep a clear head. Feel free to go ahead, though.”

  “We can save it for after,” Penelope suggested. “A toast to our first day of filming.”

  “I don’t think so,” Dylan replied bluntly. “I’ve got some things to do tonight, and I really need to try and get a decent night’s sleep…”

  “Of course,” she said, “I understand. We’ll just save it for another time, then.”

  Dylan let it go. He didn’t want to start trouble with her, especially on the first day. She may have been nominated for an Oscar, but he’d only been in two films and didn’t know if he had it in him to pretend to be in love with someone on camera if he was having serious issues with her in real life. He put the dishes on the table that he’d already set and pulled a couple bottles of water out of the fridge, offering one to Penelope.

  They’d planned to run through the scenes they were scheduled to film in the morning, but Penelope noticed the letter he’d written Tia perched near the front door, ready to post, and opened a conversation.

  “I know I never gave your girlfriend a chance,” she said. “What’s her name again?”

  “Tia.”

  “It’s a pretty name. And you guys are pretty serious, huh?”

  “Very serious,” he said with emphasis.

  Penelope sighed. “There’s something about being in love that just makes the whole world brighter, don’t you think?”

  Dylan was surprised by her comment, but answered, “That’s a great way to put it. I agree completely.”

  “How’s she handling such a long separation?”

  “It’s hard for both of us,” he answered. “She’s back to work now, so keeping busy helps. Unlike me, she’s home with her family and friends, so I might have the tough end of that deal, actually.”

  “You know I really do want to be your friend, Dylan.” She saw his eyebrow go up in question and jumped back in immediately. “Seriously, really!” she exclaimed. “I said I was sorry for my behavior and I meant it. I’m not going to try to come between the two of you, and I want you to feel like you can talk to me about things—even her. We’re going to be spending a lot of time together, and it’ll be so much better for both of us if things are comfortable between us. I know we got off to a bad start, and that was totally my fault. I’m trying to make it up to you, and I promise not to pressure you into anything you don’t want.” She held up her index and middle finger in the Girl Scout salute, and then crossed her heart with her fingers.

  Dylan was surprised again, but tried not to show it. He didn’t have any reason to trust her, but he had several reasons not to. Still, she was trying to be nice, and he had to give her credit for that. It would certainly be a lot easier to get through the next few months without a lot of animosity between them. “As long as we’re a hundred percent clear on that, I’m all for it,” he answered.

  “Great—I’m so glad Dylan, really. So just to prove I’m serious, why don’t you tell me about Tia? It might make you miss her less if you can talk about her. How did the two of you meet?”

  Dylan couldn’t resist telling the story. It was such an unusual way to meet, and talking about her did make him feel better. Penelope sat engrossed throughout the story, shaking her head and smiling. “That sounds like a movie to me!” she exclaimed. He was surprised that it was so easy to talk to her; she was a captive audience who really seemed to enjoy hearing the story. She asked for details, gushed about how romantic it all was, and it was after seven by the time they started running lines. Two hours later, Dylan started yawning and insisted he get some sleep. Penelope picked up the envelope by the door and turned back. “Do you want me to have Angela take this into town for you in the morning? She’s got to stop at the post office anyway.”

  Jessa was scheduled to arrive in two days, and her first order of business would be to go into town to do some shopping and run some errands, so she could take it in. He hesitated for a moment. The post office would be closed by the time Jessa arrived, so that would mean at least three days before the letter got in the mail. He figured it would be a statement of good will and trust on his part to have her assistant handle it, and the letter would then get to Tia three days earlier. “That’d be great, I appreciate it,” he said, clenching his fist just a bit as she walked through the door with the letter in her hand.

  “No problem!” she said. “Like I said, Angela’s going in anyway. Do you need anything else? I can have her stop off at the grocery for you too, if you want.”

  Dylan definitely did want, thinking about the starvation rations he’d been able to gather that day, and he handed off his list, thanking her again and saying good night.

  Penelope returned to her trailer and poured herself a tall glass of wine, downing most of it in one long swallow. Damn, it had been torture keeping the smile on her face while she was sitting there listening to Dylan tell about his love affair with the school teacher. She’d never be able to understand the pressure of being a star, the constant hunt for the limelight, the constant fear of falling from the pedestal that being famous required. Life just didn’t work that way, and Penelope knew it better than anyone. He was kidding himself that it was going to work out between them in the end. She, Penelope, knew the stresses of being in front of the camera and in the public eye.

  It had gotten a little easier, though, when she started imagining that he was talking about her with such reverence, and she mentally started inserting her own name whenever he mentioned Tia’s. He talked about that girl like she was some kind princess; like he was the lucky one instead of the other way around. He kept saying how amazing she was, and how good they were together, and Penelope wondered if anyone had ever talked about her with such emotional admiration. She seriously doubted it, and it kind of stung. But she was more determined than ever that someday Dylan would be talking about her that way. She could already see why Susannah Atwald had said he was the best boyfriend she ever had—Penelope was already starting to like him.

  She held the letter to Tia in her hand. She wanted nothing more than to tear it up into pieces and toss it into the trash, but it wasn’t time for that yet. Instead, she put on a pot for tea that she never intended to drink. When the kettle whistled, she held the letter over the steam and carefully pried it open. She read the letter, frowning at his professions of love, but curiously satisfied that he’d said that she was more genuine than he’d originally thought—that meant that her plan was working so fa
r.

  She slipped a stack pictures out of the envelope and recognized Prague in the background of several. “Well aren’t they just adorable?” she said to herself sarcastically. She selected one photo to keep and shoved the rest back into the envelope. She sat on the couch and started at the picture—Dylan looked so happy and his smile just lit up his face. If only the teacher wasn’t in the picture, she thought, it would be perfect. From the kitchen drawer she pulled out a pair of scissors and carefully cut Tia’s face out of the photo. It was an improvement, but now the picture had a gaping hole, which was distracting. She pulled her portfolio out from under her bed and found a picture of her own face that fit in the space, carefully cutting it out and sticking it behind the original photo. She pressed the altered image onto the first page of her photo book, and stared at it some more. “Much better!” she said out loud, and then she returned it to the shelf behind her bed before putting the rest of the contents back into the envelope and resealing it. She’d give it to Angela in the morning to drop at the post office. Satisfied, she sat back on the couch and took another large pull of her wine, feeling the alcohol course through her veins and into her head. It was all about patience right now, she told herself. It was going to be a long show, but so far, her performance had been flawless.

  It was another six days before Tia’s first letter reached him. Jessa delivered it as soon as it arrived, and he held it like gold before gently opening the envelope. It smelled of her; she had spritzed it with some of her favorite perfume, and his heart was lifted at seeing her neat and even handwriting on the page. He hoped that she’d gotten his first letter, and imagined her sitting at her kitchen table with a glass of wine, as excited to see his handwriting on the page as he was to see hers. He skimmed the letter quickly, and then sat to reread every line, hearing her voice speaking the words in his mind. Immediately, he sat down to write her again, and slipped in a few pictures of them from Geneva, with the Alps in the background. He smiled as he wrote on the back of one, “Can you still yodel?”