Tethered

by L. D. Davis

  “You don’t have to explain it to me,” I said.

  Even if you didn’t want to tell me.

  “Anyway, that isn’t why I called, really,” I said before he could speak again.

  “Why did you call? What’s happening?” That hint of alarm had returned to his voice.

  I suddenly regretted calling him and wondering if I should even tell him about my mom. He was busy with his friends and I didn’t want to take him away from them, but to be honest, I was feeling a little perturbed by Stella’s presence.

  “Hey, what’s going on?” Emmet asked in a softer tone.

  I took a breath and got on with it.

  “I told you I didn’t want you to come with me, but I was wrong. Is it too late for you to come out here?”

  I put my palm on my chest as I waited for him to answer. That link between us strummed, anxious to have its two ends brought together. I swear the charms on my bracelet vibrated with the tether.

  “If you can’t come, I understand,” I said quickly. I already felt bad for asking him to walk away from his internship for me.

  “Baby,” Emmet said with a sigh that made my toes curl. “Of course I’ll come out there. I’ll follow you anywhere in the universe.”

  I sighed a deep sigh of relief. “Thank you,” I said shakily.

  “Now tell me what’s going on,” he gently urged.

  I stood up and began to pace Felix’s trailer. I put my hand on my stomach where the adrenaline seemed to be gathering. I felt like if I didn’t hold myself tight enough, the adrenaline would tear a hole in my stomach and leave me gutted on the pretty, blue carpet.

  “My mom is dying,” I managed to say though it felt like my throat was closing up. “I know she hasn’t been much of a mom over the years, but she’s still my mom and this is still very, very hard.”

  “Shit,” Emmet whispered sharply. “Is that what you didn’t want to talk about before you left?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Donya,” he said with both reproof and sadness. “You should have told me, baby.”

  “I know,” I said, nodding to no one. “I was scared and trying to handle it on my own.”

  “You never have to handle anything on your own again, do you hear me? I will always be there for you. Don’t push me out again. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  “Good. I’ll go back to my hotel and start packing and see when I can get out there.”

  “It’s a good thing you have that trust fund to lean on,” I teased.

  “One day, when we’re married with our two kids in bed with us, you’ll happily lean on it, too,” he said and I could tell he was smiling.

  My heart warmed and the adrenaline racing in my stomach eased.

  “What about your friends?” I asked.

  “They’ll be fine,” he said dismissively. “But I need to go tell them I’m leaving. They’re half a block ahead of me.”

  “I hate to take you away from them,” I said meaningfully.

  “I hate anything that keeps me away from you,” he responded. “How long will we be out there?”

  “Well, that’s the kicker,” I said. “They liked me more than I expected. They’re rewriting the script a little to give me more screen time. I have to start filming tomorrow, but I don’t know how long it will all take in the end.”

  “I am so proud of you,” Emmet said. I smiled. It made me really glad to know that he was proud of me. “I’m going to go. I have to email the law firm, but I’ll call you when I know when I’m leaving, okay?”

  “Are you sure it will be okay?” I asked, biting my lip.

  “You are all that matters right now,” he said, but then added “But I’m sure it will be fine.”

  “Okay,” I smiled again. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “I’ll see you soon.”

  “Good. I love you.”

  “I love you, too, Donya.”

  When we hung up, wave after wave of relief washed over me, settling my nerves and making me feel lighter. I sat down on Felix’s ultra-comfy couch and grinned.

  Emmet was coming.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  I stared at the new script in my hands that I received early the following morning. The director, Trip Brigs (what a Hollywood name), yammered on and on with high energy. I tried hard to keep up with what he was saying and what he needed, but my eyes kept falling back to the script.

  I had to kiss Felix. I knew that going in, but before it was just a few seconds of kissing. The new script, however, was more than a kiss. It was a full on make out session, in a bed. He would be shirtless and I would be in a tiny camisole and tiny shorts. The director and writers were sorely disappointed that I wasn’t yet eighteen and couldn’t be nude.

  We ran through the written lines a couple of times. We were all going to have to learn on the run. Soon we were sent to hair and makeup and wardrobe and my first day as a movie actress was underway.

  Besides being nervous about the obvious, I was excited to be there. Last summer when Max approached me on the boardwalk and Emmy and I had made fun of him, I never, ever would have foreseen how far that little conversation would have led me. My modeling career had picked up faster than so many girls’ I had met along the way. I befriended a superstar and was now going to act in a movie side by side with him and several other talented people. I was damn lucky. My success was already more than I could have ever hoped for when I first started and I couldn’t wait to see what else waited for me in my career.

  “Oh, look at you,” Felix said a little while later as we met on set. He had a hand on my hip as he looked me over.

  “I need a pair of these jeans,” I said, turning my head to look at my ass. “Did you see my ass in these jeans?” I asked Felix, pointing to my ass.

  “Sweetheart, I always see your ass, no matter what’s on it.”

  I rolled my eyes and gave him a shove. He chuckled and then reached out and grabbed my hand.

  “Let’s go hot ass,” he said, with a wink. “Did you learn your lines?”

  “As much as I could,” I said nervously.

  “Don’t worry, you’ll be great,” he said and squeezed my hand.

  The rest of the morning was a learning experience, and not always a fun one. I don’t know how I thought movies were filmed, but I honestly didn’t think it was as hard as it was proving to be. It was similar to modeling in that you had to be well aware of the lighting, the camera, and your own body, but this was on a much bigger scale. I had to pay attention to every movement and be aware of every camera, light, microphone, and person while reciting lines. At one point I got so frustrated I threw my script at Kent Decker, the hot older actor in front of me because he didn’t like how I was saying my lines.

  “Then you say them the way you want me to say them if you know so much,” I had snapped. It probably wasn’t a good idea to snap at the seasoned actor who probably really did know so much.

  “You’re unprofessional,” he snarled.

  “You’re dressed in a Hawaiian shirt, ugly plaid shorts and flip flops,” I argued. “Don’t tell me about professional.”

  Felix came on set, even though the director was yelling at him and me and Kent. He picked up my script and put a hand on my shoulder to quiet me. He looked at Kent patiently.

  “How do you think she should say it, Kent?” he asked quietly.

  I understood in his quiet tone that he was showing Kent some respect, and I realized I should have, too. He was in his mid-thirties, but he had been acting since he was very young and he had more than a few good titles under his belt. I glanced over at the writers, producers and at Trip who was now standing with us. I was suddenly fearful of getting a bad Hollywood rap and never getting work not just there, but even as a model in New York.

  “I apologize,” I said quickly before Kent could begin speaking. “When we went over these specific lines yesterday, everyone was fine with it.”

  “The script has changed,�
� Kent said, frustrated. He was a little high on his horse, all of the tabloids said so, but I kept quiet and listened anyway. “You have to adapt. If you can’t adapt, you shouldn’t be here.”

  I nodded in agreement. “You are right. The dynamic has changed and I must adapt. Let’s try again.”

  “You’re inexperienced,” he growled, crossing his arms.

  “At some point in your career, you were, too,” Felix reminded him, rubbing my back.

  “Let’s do it again,” I said louder, hoping everyone would get back into their places.

  “Maybe this isn’t a good first role for you,” Kent said. “Just because you’re a pretty model doesn’t mean you can act.”

  I managed a smile and started speaking before Felix could snap at him.

  “I am determined to prove you and your hideous Hawaiian shirt wrong.”

  “I didn’t pick this disgusting shirt out,” he argued.

  “Doesn’t make it any less hideous,” I muttered. I shook out my hands and rolled my shoulders. “Let’s do this.”

  “You okay?” Felix asked me quietly as Trip and Kent moved away to talk quietly.

  “Yes,” I said and smiled at him.

  “No one ever talks to him like that – at least no one as new as you or me.”

  “You’re not so new.”

  “I’m still a rookie in his eyes. You handled him well in the end, though. Good job.” He kissed the side of my head and walked off set with Trip.

  Kent and I got into our places while Trip and the crew got ready. When Trip yelled Action, I threw out the lines differently. We had one good, long take, and at the end of it, Kent actually smiled at me, kind of.

  I had a few more scenes to film for the day before I was released from my acting subjugation in the late afternoon. There were some technical issues and rewrites to be done, so I would have to return to finish the next day. Usually, for only a few minutes of screen time, I would have been finished already.

  I walked to Felix’s trailer to grab a few of my things. I was in a hurry to get back to the hotel. Emmet’s flight had landed in the late morning, but other than a few brief words, I hadn’t spoken to him since he got in.

  My heart knew he was close by again. It sung in harmony with the line that binds us together. I could always feel Emmet near, but I couldn’t always pinpoint exactly where he was if he wasn’t within sight. So, sometimes he had the ability to surprise me. When I opened the door to Felix’s trailer, Emmet was standing there with his hands in his khaki shorts, smiling at me.

  “Emmet!” I squealed and ran into his arms.

  “Surprise,” he murmured into my hair as he held me tightly.

  “How did you get in here?” I asked, pulling away far enough to look up at him.

  His lips twitched and then he rolled his eyes. “Felix arranged it.”

  “See? He’s a good guy,” I said, nodding.

  “I guess,” he said with a shrug, but he was smiling. “I missed you.”

  “You went months without seeing me,” I pointed out. “Surely, you were able to go a couple of days without missing me.”

  “I didn’t see you for those months, but I sure as hell missed you, and I missed you the minute you left my arms in New York.”

  “Mr. Grayne, you are making me swoon,” I grinned.

  “Miss Stewart, I am only speaking the truth,” Emmet said softly and then he was kissing me.

  It felt like it had been months since I last kissed Emmet, not mere hours. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back with hunger. I needed this so badly. I needed to feel his hands rubbing my back as he kissed me. I needed to feel his tongue in my mouth and his lips on mine, making me submit to his love. I needed to feel my hands in his hair and his body pressed against mine. I needed his comfort and he was giving it away freely.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” I whispered tearfully when we stopped kissing.

  I hugged him tightly, resting my face on his shoulder.

  “Hey,” he said gently, pulling back. He held my face in one hand and wiped a tear with his thumb. “Don’t cry. You break my heart when you cry.”

  Somehow his words had the opposite effect and I broke down into full sobs. I had not sobbed so hard since Emmet had left for college. Sad Pathetic Donya was on the scene, and she was relentless, wringing tears from my eyes when I thought no more could possibly come. She made my body shake and shudder and I think she secretly loved the snot running out of my nose.

  Emmet reached behind him to a table and grabbed a few napkins. He wiped my face and then kissed my forehead. He pulled me into his arms and despite how much I was hurting, I felt safe and protected and strength I really didn’t have.

  “I want to tell her about us,” I said weakly.

  “Whatever you want, baby,” Emmet said soothingly and kissed my head.

  I wanted Sad Pathetic Donya to take a hike. I wanted to stop crying and find my own inner strength. I knew it was there somewhere, but SPD kept hiding it from me. She liked me weak and blubbering. She was a drama whore.

  “Are you done for the day?” Emmet asked me.

  I nodded. “Can we go back to the hotel now? Have you been there yet?”

  “Felix had someone take my bags over, but I haven’t been there yet.”

  “Are you staying with me?” I asked, feeling hopeful. I picked up the sunglasses and bag I had come for. Emmet took the bag from me and threw it over his shoulder even though it was pink.

  “That’s up to your mom,” Emmet said, taking my hand and leading me out of the trailer. “But if she isn’t comfortable with it, Felix has an extra room in his suite.”

  “You two are getting downright cozy,” I teased, still shuddering from my crying.

  Emmet rolled his eyes. “I suffer him for you.”

  “Thank you,” I said, squeezing his hand.

  “You owe me so big.” He looked down at me with lust in his eyes.

  “Oh, I will pay you more than what you are owed, sir,” I promised.

  *~*~*

  Felix insisted that we utilize room service anytime while we were staying in California. My mom and I both argued with him about it, but he was insistent. He even had the hotel staff call us around four thirty to ask if we would be dining in and to please take a look at the menus and order when we were ready. I gave up on saying no. Room service was a treat and if he wanted to foot the bill, I didn’t have the energy to argue anymore.

  So, we ordered dinner and dessert when we got back to the suite. While we waited for our meals to arrive, I left Emmet with my mom at the dining table and went into my room for a shower. Emmet and I had decided that we would tell my mom about us over dinner. He had asked me why not tell everyone, but then I told him about Emmy’s reaction to the tabloid photos and how his mom had started to comment on it also.

  “Eventually, they will all have to deal with it,” he had muttered, but didn’t push the subject further.

  By the time I got out of the shower, dinner had arrived. I sat across from Emmet at the table, with my mom between us at the head of the table.

  “I’m starving,” I sighed, lifting the lid off of my plate.

  “Don’t they feed you there?” Mom asked.

  “Yeah,” I said. “And it was delicious, but that was hours ago.”

  “It always amazed me how much you can eat and not gain any weight,” she said, shaking her head.

  “One day my ass will pay for it, I’m sure,” I said distractedly as I sprinkled pepper on my mashed potatoes.

  “When did you start cursing like that?” she asked giving me a look that promised soap in my mouth.

  “When she was seven,” Emmet mused. “But she was wise enough not to do it in front of adults, or often.”

  I looked across the table at him. “Thanks a lot.”

  “No problem,” he winked.

  My mom looked at him and back to me before lightly clearing her throat. She looked back down at her pasta dish and pushed it around
on the plate. I knew she probably didn’t eat earlier in the day. I had a feeling she wasn’t eating much at all.

  “So, Emmet,” she said. “Where are you staying?”

  “I was hoping Emmet could stay here,” I said optimistically.

  Her eyes rolled onto me in a way in which only a mother can roll her eyes onto her child. It would have been heartwarming if it wasn’t kind of scary.

  “But I can stay with Felix or even get my own room if you’re not comfortable with it,” Emmet said quickly.

  Now her eyes rolled onto Emmet, but it wasn’t like a mom looking at her son. It was like a mom looking at the man that was dating her daughter. I knew in that moment that she knew. Some of my breath escaped my mouth with a light sound as it hung open while I gawked at her and Emmet.

  She put her fork down, pushed her plate away and folded her arms on the table. She looked back and forth between us. For something better to do with my gaping mouth, I sipped on my glass of water.

  “Please, lord, please…” she muttered under her breath as she looked up at the lord, I assumed. “Please tell me that you two didn’t sit me down at this table to tell me that you’re pregnant.”

  Water sprayed across the table, all over mom’s food, Emmet’s steak and on his shirt and in his face. As if that wasn’t enough, I started choking again for the second time in two days. I fumbled for my glass of water again and swallowed big gulps, nearly choking it up.

  “No one is pregnant,” Emmet finally said quietly as I caught my breath.

  Mom slumped with relief and then picked up a few napkins and started wiping the table. “Thank god. She’s entirely too young. You’re entirely too young, too, Emmet.”

  “You were near his age when you had me,” I pointed out. “And Sam was nineteen when she had Freddy.”

  “Those were different times,” she said, reminding me of Fred’s words. “And Sam was a married woman before she got pregnant, and so was I.”

  I picked up napkins and started to wipe up, too. I looked at Emmet and apologized.

  “A little bit of spit and water isn’t going to deter me from my steak,” he shrugged and dug in again.

  “Mom,” I started, but now unsure of how to proceed. She had shaken up my whole game plan.