Love Unscripted

by Reber, Tina

  “Yes,” I stated without hesitation, although it pained me to say it. “Goodbye Kyle.”

  I watched as Kyle stormed out of the pub. He never looked back.

  “Everything all right?” Marie asked. She had been watching the entire conversation from the opposite end of the bar.

  I nodded, hating myself for hurting him.

  “Is he planning on coming back?” Marie asked.

  “I don’t know. I hope not. My nerves are so shot,” I muttered. “I didn’t even get my period this week from all of this stress.”

  I thought about Ryan’s attempt to get Kyle stationed elsewhere and how that didn’t seem to work. I reached in my pocket for my phone; Ryan needed to be informed before he flew home. I would never put him in harm’s way.

  Chapter 30 - Rumors

  Ryan still had his jacket on when he snuck into the pub through the kitchen door. He was supposed to call me when he was on his way from the airport, but instead of a phone call, he decided to surprise me. He came right behind the bar and tossed me over his shoulder, carrying me off quickly into the kitchen.

  He set me down to rest on one of the new stainless steel counters and I wrapped my legs around his waist.

  “Oh God, I missed you,” he said while kissing me.

  I giggled lightly. “I missed you too!”

  He let me go long enough to hastily pull his jacket off.

  “What do you think…of the kitchen?” I managed to mumble. His tongue was quite a distraction.

  “Uhuh,” he muttered, kissing me harder. The kitchen was dark and his eyes were closed. “Looks… great.” His mouth locked tightly on mine.

  “It’s good to be home,” he finally sighed, giving us both a moment to breathe again.

  It didn’t take us long to grab his bags and make our way upstairs to the apartment.

  “It’s been a long day,” Ryan said, yawning. “I haven’t been sleeping well at all,” he murmured on my neck. He pulled me tighter to his body and adjusted his head on his pillow. “I’ve discovered that I can’t sleep without you in my arms. I’ve been forced to hug a pillow every night,” he said sadly. “It’s just not the same.”

  “I know what you mean,” I whispered. “This bed is cold and empty without you in it.”

  He kissed me softly.

  “Oh sweetheart, I know it’s tough to be apart, but you know it’s not permanent. I’m going to try and come home as much as I can… it’s going to be hard though because we have a really tight shooting schedule. If you come down for a few days and I come home for a few days it won’t be so bad. The next couple of weeks will fly by.”

  I sighed. Our relationship was like one giant hurdle after another, where crossing off each day on the calendar was the goal.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, kissing my nose.

  I shrugged, not sure of how to answer him.

  “Tar, Honey?” he whispered. “What’s on your mind?”

  “We’re going to be like two ships passing in the night,” I muttered, knowing we would be apart more than together.

  “Hey…” Ryan propped his body up on his elbow. “Don’t worry. I know this year will be rough, but everything is going to work out.”

  “I just don’t want our life to fly by,” I whispered.

  “Some days it will, and some days it won’t. We have to be thankful for what we have. Just think how all those families have to cope when one of their loved ones goes overseas for military duty. At least we get to see each other often and we can talk on the phone every day.”

  Ryan crawled onto me, playfully biting me on the neck.

  “You worry too much. Besides, I have it all figured out,” he murmured devilishly on my skin.

  “Oh you do, do you?” I snickered. I rubbed my hands over his shoulders and down his back to massage his muscles.

  “Mmmhmm,” he murmured, kissing my cheek. “We’re going to take it one day at a time - together.”

  I was still kissing him when I blinked. Our thirty-six hours together flew by and was quickly coming to an end. Ryan had a Sunday night flight back to Miami.

  “Hey Mike!” I hugged Ryan’s faithful bodyguard when he came to pick Ryan up for their trip to the airport. “You taking good care of my man down there?” I asked.

  “You know me, Taryn. I carry a big stick!” Mike joked.

  “Good! Keep all of those fans off of him!” I laughed.

  “Fourteen days,” Ryan whispered in my ear. “Bring your swim suit, ‘cause I’m sneaking you off to the Keys for a day.”

  I grinned at him. “I can’t wait! You have everything you need?”

  “Yeah, I have enough clean clothes now to last me a while. Kiss me, we’ve got to go.” Ryan nuzzled me.

  “Mike, don’t forget Ryan’s guitar.” I picked up the case. “Do you want me to carry it out to the car?”

  “No. Just stay inside, Taryn. The paparazzi are out there,” Mike groaned.

  “I love you, Honey.” Ryan kissed me. “I’ll call you tonight when I get to the hotel.”

  The second the back door opened, cameras started to click. I saw Ryan quickly jump into the black sedan before our new steel door closed completely behind him.

  The beginning of February brought bitter cold and a fine layer of snow and ice to Rhode Island. It also froze in place a few other annoyances – several paparazzi still lingered behind.

  I was cleaning up the bar Tuesday night when Cory pounded on the front door. I had closed early on account of the bad weather. Alcohol and freezing rain never mixed well.

  “Taryn, my car won’t start.” Cory breathed on his hands to warm them up. “Oh, and do you have any rock salt for the sidewalk? It’s really icy out there.”

  I put my heavy coat and gloves on and grabbed the bag of rock salt from the office.

  “Whoa!” I shouted as I slipped on the ice outside my door. Cory caught me before I hit the ground.

  “Careful!” he reminded me.

  “Damn! It’s like an ice rink out here.” I stuck a plastic cup inside the bag and tossed salt all over my portion of the sidewalk.

  “Told you!” Cory teased. “You think you can give me a ride home?”

  “Cory, I can’t drive in this. It’s too dangerous.” I could barely stand without slipping. “Why don’t you just crash here tonight,” I suggested. “You can stay in the guest room.”

  “Hey, if you don’t mind. Classes are going to be cancelled tomorrow anyway,” Cory said, sprinkling more salt near the curb. “I wonder if Mario’s Pizza is still open?”

  I tried to walk back to the bag of salt to refill my cup but I couldn’t get a footing on the patch of ice I was standing on.

  “Help!” I whimpered. “I’m stuck here. I can’t move!”

  Cory laughed at me. “What? Can’t you ice skate?”

  “Not in duck boots!” I laughed.

  “Here. Take my hand. I’ll pull you to safety.” Cory slid me across the ice. I laughed out loud because it was actually a lot of fun.

  “You need to buy boots with traction,” Cory informed. “Those things have no bite.”

  I started slipping again so I grabbed his arm.

  “Come on… I’ll tow you over to the door before you fall and break an ass cheek out here!”

  “Very funny. Can you even break an ass cheek?” I asked.

  “You want to find out?” he jeered.

  “No! Just help me to the door before I do though.”

  Cory laughed. “Even if you could drive me home, I’m picturing you stranded out here on the sidewalk all night. You’ll be a frozen Popsicle by morning.”

  “Shut it or no slumber party tonight! I was going to make popcorn.”

  “This is going to be so much fun!” Cory used a feminine voice. “We can stay up all night and paint our nails and talk about boys!”

  The next morning the sun was bright and warm, melting some of the ice.

  “Careful Taryn,” Cory warned. “It’s still icy in some spots
.” He held out his hand to me.

  Cory and I made it twenty feet down the sidewalk before three paparazzi descended on us.

  “Who’s the new guy, Taryn?” one pesky photographer asked. “Is this your new boyfriend?”

  “No, absolutely not,” I answered directly back to the paparazzi. My reply to that asinine question was now captured digitally.

  “Why the hell do they keep taking our picture?” Cory muttered to me under his breath. We were tucked beneath the hood of my car trying to jumpstart his truck with my Infiniti.

  “They’re taking my picture,” I quietly informed him.

  “Go sit inside your car,” he groaned softly, trying to be stealthy with his comment. “This is ridiculous! Does Ryan go through this all the time?”

  “Yeah.” I nodded.

  “Poor guy,” Cory whispered. “This shit would drive me nuts.”

  “Okay, guys.” I held up my hand to tell the photographers that I had enough. “Friend… ice storm… dead battery… you get the point, right?”

  I saw the old, Italian photographer shuffling along the sidewalk, trying to catch up to the other vultures.

  “Jimmy Pop, be careful! It’s really icy there. If you fall, you’re really going to hurt yourself,” I warned.

  “You need help, Miss Taryn?” Jimmy asked me. His camera was slung over his shoulder instead of taking my photo. He was sincerely concerned.

  “No thank you, Jimmy. Cory’s battery is dead,” I nicely replied. “I think we have it under control.”

  “Okay. How’s Mister Ryan?” Jimmy’s wrinkled face curled with his question.

  “He’s good, Jimmy.” I smiled. “He is nice and warm in Florida. How are you?”

  “Oh my hands hurt,” he moaned. “I guess you can’t tell me when Mister Ryan is coming back? This cold…” Jimmy shivered and tossed his lit cigarette into the street.

  “Jimmy,” I whined lightly, “you know I can’t say.”

  “I know.” Jimmy came closer to me. His eyes scanned back and forth to see who could be listening.

  “Be careful when you’re outside,” he whispered, cautioning me with his eyes. “You know what I tell you?”

  “Yes, Jimmy.” I nodded.

  “Then go back inside, quickly Miss Taryn,” Jimmy advised.

  “Okay, I will. If you ever want to warm up, you’re always welcome inside my pub,” I whispered back to him.

  “Bless you, dear! Now go, quickly,” Jimmy sighed.

  Four days after Ryan flew back to Florida, it was reported in the tabloids that Ryan ended our relationship and moved out. Pictures of Ryan looking annoyed and sad, getting into the black sedan while Mike packed the trunk with Ryan’s belongings were published.

  The reason Ryan supposedly ended our relationship was captured in pictures as well: The unfaithful Taryn Mitchell – holding hands and frolicking in the snow with the cute bartender who works for her.

  I was glad that I told Ryan about Cory staying over on the same night that it happened so he knew exactly why there were photographs of Cory and me together. It still didn’t prevent the lies from being written:

  Love on the Rocks

  Ryan’s rep may be denying the breakup, but there was no denying what we saw going on at the heartthrob’s secret Seaport, Rhode Island hideaway over the weekend!

  Ryan Christensen and his bodyguard were seen leaving at 7PM on Sunday, stepping out with several pieces of luggage and personal items. They then headed directly to the airport, where Ryan quickly departed back to Miami. “Ryan didn’t stay long after personally collecting his things.”

  So does this confirm the breakup? Sure seems that way, since Ryan has been seen secretly hooking up with his newly single co-star, Lauren Delaney, in Miami. Looks like Ryan and Lauren’s relationship is back on!

  “Guess we won’t see Ryan Christensen here in Seaport anymore. He broke up with her,” the unfamiliar female customer sitting at the bar whispered to her friend, nodded in my direction.

  I tapped a pitcher of beer for another customer, trying to ignore their conversation, but it was difficult.

  “How could she be so stupid? I mean if she let that slip through her fingers, then she doesn’t deserve him,” the other girl whispered back.

  I finally had enough. “Excuse me? We didn’t break up. When are you people going to realize that those tabloids publish nothing but lies?”

  “Tar, leave it go,” Marie quickly interrupted my rant.

  “No! I’m sick of this! I’m sick of people whispering about me in my own bar!” I looked directly at the two girls who started my tirade.

  “My boyfriend, who I am still with, is filming in Florida! He is working fourteen hour days, seven days a week without a break to make a movie for all of you ungrateful people to enjoy!” I raised my voice. “And this is the thanks he gets?”

  “Tar,” Marie grabbed my arm, “you don’t owe anyone an explanation about your personal life.” Marie said that loud enough for most to hear.

  “Where are your boyfriends, huh?” I asked the two girls. “Did you have sex with them last night? Do you have pictures? Come on - tell me… I have a right to know. It’s only fair! You know my life; I want to know yours. If you’re going to be out in public, then your life is no longer private either.”

  “Sorry, we didn’t mean to upset you,” the one girl apologized.

  “Ryan and I are people, just like you,” I retorted. “Just because he makes a living being a working actor does not mean he gave up having a private life. You’re entitled to privacy – so are we.”

  Between the false accusations, Kyle’s questionable behavior, the lurking paparazzi, and being separated from Ryan, I was just about ready to go out of my mind. I couldn’t wait to get on that plane and head to Florida for some fun in the sun with my love.

  Only eight more hours and two flights to endure before I finally get to see him. I pulled my white cotton shirt over my head and debated over what coat to wear. It was a balmy twenty-seven degrees outside my window but it would be in the seventies when I land in Miami. I put a thin top over my T-shirt – deciding it would be best to dress in layers.

  I stopped to make sure the back door was locked before I rolled my suitcase down the alley. Of course when I stepped outside Jimmy Pop and two other photographers were staked out, waiting to catch me doing something wrong. That’s all I needed; one more photograph to set the gossip magazines ablaze with their lies.

  If these magazines only knew how many lives they almost tear apart with their fabricated stories and false accusations. What a pathetic way to make a buck. I hated all of them and everyone who worked for them.

  “You have a nice, safe trip, Miss Taryn!” Jimmy Pop wished me well.

  “Thank you Jimmy,” I softly said, giving him a brief smile for his kindness. He had his camera pointing down; he was the only photographer to leave me a moment of peace. Since I was leaving, the three photographers departed in the opposite direction. They had no reason to hang around my door any longer.

  I rolled my suitcase down the slushy asphalt, pausing at the mouth of the alley where the snowplow had made mounds of dirty, watery snow. I wanted to keep my suitcase clean and dry and this small trek down the alley was not helping. I took my time walking the last few feet that would put me in the street; the cold February air had caused some of the melting snow to refreeze and I didn’t want to have my picture taken slipping on the ice and falling down. That would be embarrassing for sure.

  I lifted my suitcase over a small pile of snow and glanced up and down Mulberry Street for traffic.

  Terror - absolute terror - blazed through me from the sight that my eyes took in. I froze in place, stifling the urge to scream.

  Adrenaline coursed into my veins when I saw her, Angelica, sitting in her old, blue Plymouth Gran Fury not more than sixty feet from where I stood. The fear she incited slid through me like a hot knife in warm butter; she was out of prison and waiting for me.

  Our eyes made
contact; I could feel her hatred for me blast through the air and strike me where I stood, gluing my feet to the ground. This would be her moment, the time that she’d been waiting for, to finally take me out of the picture.

  I saw her hand reach up and pull the gear shifter down to put her car in drive. So much for slicing me into pieces. The thick steel bumper and crushing weight of her old car would flatten me like a steamroller. She pulled the old Plymouth away from the curb; her car slowly rolled to the stop sign.

  My mind did the quick mental calculation to determine whether I could make it across the slushy, icy street dragging my suitcase before she could run me down. I was not safe on the sidewalk either and I was too far away from my back door to run; besides, I had a plane to catch. I had no choice; my car across the street in the lot would be my only sanctuary.

  My eyes were locked on hers as I stepped out into the street; I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of looking away if she was going to run me down. I would not go out being a coward.

  I was almost halfway across the street, but she hadn’t moved an inch. Why isn’t she speeding at me? I expected her to mash her foot down on the gas pedal and careen her car in my direction.

  I allowed my eyes one brief glance at the opposing sidewalk when I noticed the silver streak in front of my eyes. If she didn’t move, why do I hear tires screeching?

  The searing pain in my stomach was what I felt first; pain like I had never felt before in my life. The battering ram that struck me instantly knocked the air out of my lungs. My fingers peeled away from the handle of my suitcase without any conscious effort on my part. I felt my chin smack down with force on a cold, flat surface. The contact made my cheek smear on the blur of shimmery silver.

  Just like the time when I had watched Ryan film his fight sequence, I had the sensation of ropes pulling me sideways, followed by the feeling of flying. Why am I rolling?

  The pain returned; a new pain this time cracked into my left hand and shot all the way up my arm, followed by a painful smack in the head. Instantly I was cold and wet, watching my life pass before my eyes.