Back with the Stuntman_A Single Dad Second Chance Romance)

by Amanda Horton

  As I got to Pat’s room, I could hear her sobbing on the other side of the closed door.

  “Pat, please open, it’s me.”

  She kept sobbing but didn’t reply.

  “Pat, please, you’re upset. You need to talk to someone.”

  “I don’t want to talk, Jeff. Please just leave me alone. I can’t handle having men in my life.”

  “Pat, we’re friends. At least do me the courtesy of opening the door and speaking to me face-to-face.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  She was starting to sound angry, which rattled me.

  “You just slapped one of my crew, Pat. We need to talk.”

  “He’s married. He deserved it.”

  “No, he’s not married. Peter is single and like many men, wears rings on his right hand. If you had looked closer, you would have seen it wasn’t a wedding band.”

  “Oh God,” I heard Pat whimper.

  “Maybe you could come down with me and apologize?” I suggested. Slapping someone in the crew doesn’t make you popular and if all went well, we would spend months together filming in a near future.

  “I can’t. I can’t face them. I can’t handle any of this right now. Just leave me be. And please don’t contact me in L.A. I’m not interested in having anyone around me right now.”

  “You’re just going to give up then? You just filmed a show with a great bunch of people who adore you and you’re going to hide away like a coward? And we’ve been friends for over twenty years and you’ll dismiss me just like that?”

  “I’m sorry, but I just can’t, Jeff.”

  “You can’t act like this. I understand Bill hurt you, but right now you’re hurting everyone else. I can’t allow that on my set. If we get this gig, I can’t promise you the lead unless you sort yourself out and start taking responsibility for your actions.”

  I meant what I said, but maybe it came out too harsh — she was emotionally frail and I was meant to be her support. It was just…I had worked with enough divas who thought they could do whatever they wanted on set to have a very short fuse where my crew was concerned. I NEVER allowed the cast and crew to get nasty. And these days when I called the shots, I didn’t hire the divas.

  “Oh, just go away, Jeff, you don’t understand anything. Leave me alone. Respect my damn wishes, or are you just like Bill who doesn’t?”

  “That’s unfair, Pat, and you know it. I have a crew to think of and a TV series to get made. These people’s livelihoods depend on me doing my job properly. And if you can’t do yours then I’ll fire you.”

  “Fine, we probably don’t have a series to shoot anyway.”

  “You’re being mean,” I said and then turned on my heel and walked away. I had a crew to see to. And my guess was that right now they were not too happy with Pat. Maybe they’d forgive her, but if she was going to be a liability who couldn’t put work above her own personal issues, she would be fired. I’d see to that personally.

  Chapter 14

  Pat

  Back in L.A., I had one week to prepare for the indie and relax before heading to the shoot. It was going to be shot outside Vegas in some abandoned old village.

  Sitting nestled in my couch by my fireplace, looking out over the canyon, I tried hard not to think. I had been back for three days now and so far I’d managed pretty well. I busied myself with things like restocking my fridge, cleaning my little chalet and throwing myself into the script. As I was the lead, there were a lot of lines to learn and not only that, I had to build my character from scratch using whatever clues the script gave me to create her past leading up to that point and the inner emotional life to go with it. I spent hours doing research and so to speak, creating her memories inside my mind; everything that had shaped her into becoming the woman who now acted the way she did in the film.

  The character’s psychological make-up was pretty distressing — she was so-called trailer trash that had grown up abused. In the film, she finally decides to leave an abusive man, having lived with one after the other her whole adult life, and go set up a life for herself. She takes up residency in an abandoned house in a ghost town outside Vegas and starts working as a waitress. For her, it is the first time she feels she has a home and little things like owning a potted plant make her cry from happiness. Slowly she learns her own value, as well as learning to read and write and making friends and, finally, she meets a man.

  In the movie, there are ups and downs as the character learns to navigate life on her own — she runs into abusive people who remind her of her past and re-enforce the idea that no one can be trusted. Eventually she learns that there are all sorts of people and also learns to distinguish between them as much as possible. And while no one ever acts exactly as you expect, or wish, the good ones come through in the end.

  I sighed and squirmed. While the couch was extremely comfortable and the fire burning gay and encouraging, I couldn’t help but finally own up to the similarities between the character and me. I was not someone who had been abused and I certainly had a privileged enough upbringing — my family was a bit on the hippie side and there wasn’t much money, but we had love and art and fun. All the same, for years I put up with a life I didn’t want to live only so as to hold onto a man. And lately I reacted as badly as the character would, when nice men approached me.

  I was so ashamed about my last night in Hawaii that I wanted to call Jeff and apologize, but I also didn’t want to see him. I knew I was damaged goods and needed time to heal. Maybe I’d send him a letter to say sorry and that I’d like to keep the role if he let me, once I was in Vegas where he wouldn’t come knocking on my door. I had already apologized to Peter, who, bless his heart, said it was alright. I wasn’t sure what the rest of the crew thought. I shot a message to some of the ones I was close to, but I didn’t have everyone’s number.

  I sighed again. My eyes kept returning to my phone. For some idiotic reason, I kept hoping Jeff would text me even though I didn’t want to see him. I felt so stupid. I really wanted that part and now, if a network picked it up, chances were ripe that I wouldn’t get it, because I could not handle my personal life well. Great. Really well done. And now I couldn’t focus on my lines.

  As I heard myself sighing once more, I decided it was time to give up for the night — it was getting dark. I could hear the coyotes howling and I needed food. Food and Netflix. A movie to forget my own life.

  I stood up and walked over to the cute little kitchenette, complete with a fancy new cooker and oven, as well as a granite kitchen island and my own Le Creuset set in a variety of different colors. Seeing the kitchen made me smile — at least this place was one thing that was working in my life.

  Feeling a little bit cheerier, I took some vegetables out of the cupboard and started chopping — it was time for chicken soup for the soul!

  Humming a melody, I didn’t hear a pair of footsteps approaching and had a start when there was a tap on my door. Probably the landlords popping by. Sometimes the wife would bring me goodies and I hadn’t really seen them since I was back.

  “Is that you, Jane? Come in!”

  But it wasn’t Jane. As the door opened I spotted Bill. If possible, he looked worse than the last time I saw him.

  “Hello, wifey, how kind of you to let me inside,” he said with a mocking tone of voice.

  I felt my stomach tense. During all the years I’d known Bill, I’d never seen him like this. Bill was fun loving and outgoing. The rowdiest he had ever been was at parties when he had had one too many, but he’d never been mean, or threatening to me. Never. Now the glint in his eyes scared me.

  “Bill, what are you doing here? I thought we were through with this.”

  “I told you in Maui that you’re mine. You’re still mine. I’m here to remind you.”

  “Bill,” I said, trying a soothing tone of voice, “I won’t change my mind. We had some lovely years, but we grew apart. I should have seen that sooner. You wanted to focus on business and travel and I
wanted a family and a career in acting.”

  “You had a career, a great career,” he slurred. How had he not been arrested for DUI?

  “Yes, but it wasn’t the one I wanted. Marriage means you need to walk together in the same direction.”

  “We can walk together now.”

  He sounded hopeful and for a moment the threatening look in his eyes was replaced by the look of the Bill I knew — the happy, caring guy who gave me breakfast in bed, even after sixteen odd years of marriage. But, the same Bill, I reminded myself, never before listened to my wishes about where we should head and never stopped sleeping with other women.

  “No, Bill, we can’t. It’s over. And the sooner you realize that, the sooner you will build a new, happy life for yourself.”

  “You slept with him, didn’t you? You slept with Jeff.”

  “That doesn’t matter.”

  “Yes, it does. You’re my wife. And you slept with a man to get a part in a movie. You’re just a whore.”

  I felt anger flare up inside of me.

  “Well, I should be to your liking then since you adore them.”

  “So you did sleep with him! I knew it. How kind of your old friend to give you a part so he could get laid.”

  “Jeff gets laid plenty without having to pay me for it.”

  “But you slept with him, admit it.”

  I saw no point in denying it. And right then I wanted to hurt Bill. He was making me furious!

  “Yes, I slept with Jeff. Happy now? Great, then leave.”

  “I’m not leaving without you. My wife, a whore. Never. You’re coming with me.”

  Shocked, I just stood there looking at him. This wasn’t my husband. This wasn’t my life. Bill would never hurt me. Bill once called the police on a man who threatened his wife. Bill hated men who hurt women. Bill…and then Bill grabbed my arms.

  “Stop it, you’re hurting me!” I screamed.

  I tried to kick him, but he was too strong. He was drunk, but he was still a great deal bigger than me. Instead I tried twisting out of his grip — I’d heard that’s what you should do in an emergency. For a moment Bill lost his grip and I stumbled forward. If only I could reach the door! But in my eagerness to get there, I stumbled over a bag I’d left on the floor.

  “Ouch,” I yelled, more due to the panic of getting caught again than due to pain. Quickly, I stood up, but Bill had caught up by now and grabbed my arms in a karate grip I couldn’t fight.

  “I told you, you’re my wife. You’re mine. You won’t win this fight. There is no fight, because you’re mine.”

  Bill forced me to sit down on the couch and I felt panic rising — no one was scheduled to check in on me. No one would hear if I screamed unless my landlords came home just as I did so. I came to think of some famous murders that had happened in this area — some because of jealousy. I regretted admitting I’d slept with Jeff, but it was too late now.

  “Bill, let me go. You’re not like this. Wake up and come to your senses. You’re hurting me. You’re trying to bind my arms for God’s sake. Bill, stop it!”

  But Bill just looked at me with steel in his eyes.

  “No, I’m taking you home. And as you aren’t coming willingly, I’ll make you. Now stand and we’ll leave.”

  I felt nausea overwhelm me — if only I hadn’t called it off with Jeff and he’d been here to protect me!

  Chapter 15

  Jeff

  It was late afternoon on a Thursday and the first week of being back in L.A. after the shoot — we arrived Monday, but different cast and crew had flown at different times. Some had opted to stay in Maui for a few days of vacation too.

  Shaun was enjoying being back in his regular school again. Thankfully a lot of the kids there had parents in the film industry and they were always OK with you taking your child to a shoot so long as they kept up the work. This time it had only been for about two weeks, so Monica made him do his homework, but for longer trips, I always hired a tutor.

  As I relaxed on my couch in front of the gas fireplace, I felt twitchy. It was nice to be home, it was nice to see Shaun liking being back. It made me happy that he enjoyed school and got on with his classmates, but then the school was quite different from your regular school, with small classes where the Ambleside method was practiced. Kids got involved in conversations, learning from immersion, not just from lecturing. This particular school was big on extra-curricular arts, sports and nature activities, too.

  The reason I couldn’t relax properly was Pat. I knew I was harsh on her, but she acted irresponsibly. You can’t let your personal life take over your work life! I’d fought hard for my career. I appreciated every break and was thankful to those who gave me a chance. I would never have taken out my own frustrations on the crew. You don’t do that if you value the work. And if you ever slip and do get worked up about personal stuff, you apologize straight away, which Pat had refused to do. That’s what really pissed me off.

  I was also angry that Pat just threw away what we had. I told her I’d wait and she still insisted to not see me at all. I’d only been in one long-term serious relationship and that was with my deceased wife. Pat was the only other woman I’d met who I felt had the potential to become a serious relationship. And I valued the women I was in relationships with. Hell, I valued my friends too and Pat was both. She, on the other hand, had just given up on what we had and walked off.

  Maybe she wasn’t worth it? Maybe I was saved by Bill showing up. Some people turn unhinged in relationships… I didn’t think Pat had it in her, but then I hadn’t seen her for some fifteen years before we bumped into each other. People change.

  “Dad?”

  “Yes, son?” Shaun was sitting playing with some building set for cars.

  “Today a girl at my school got really upset and tore up a painting I made.”

  “Really? Did you do anything to upset her that much?” I felt a bit worried — kids have an unnerving habit of arguing one minute and loving each other the next, but sometimes things got serious if two kids really didn’t take to one another.

  “No. She just didn’t like the painting.”

  “Then it was not nice of her to destroy your work. I hope the teacher dealt with her.”

  “I painted a picture of you and wrote “Dad” and she tore it up because her dad had just died. She was sad, Dad, so I forgave her. The teacher told me to hug her instead as she was crying. Then she apologized to me and helped me make a new painting.”

  My heart filled with love as I listened to Shaun’s little story — it was discovering and fostering this side of his personality that made parenting a joy.

  “That was very nice of you. I’m happy the girl learned that she did wrong and helped make it right, too. That’s what you do when you’ve done something wrong — you make it right.”

  “I know, Dad. But we can’t get her dad back, just as we can’t get my mom back. You can’t make that right.”

  “No, you can’t. But we didn’t do anything wrong to lose your mom. She was sick. The disease made her feel horrible inside all the time.”

  “Kind of like when you want to throw up?”

  “Kind of like that, but in a different way. Your mommy couldn’t feel happy for long. She took drugs all the time to try to feel better and one day she took too many drugs and died because of that.”

  My heart broke talking about his mother. I’d sworn to try to explain it as best as I could to him. He needed to know that it wasn’t his fault and it was pointless trying to cover up that it was suicide — one day he would find out and feel betrayed if I kept telling him lies. Worse, he’d hear it from someone else. The media had made a big deal out of it and no doubt parents might tell their kids when speaking of our family. They might say it in passing, but kids can be mean and I never wanted him to feel bad about having a mom who was a drug addict. Not that it was uncommon in L.A., but still, you never knew if someone would say something negative one day. Not everyone’s drug abuse was out i
n the open.

  “I’m sorry Mom was sick, Dad,” Shaun said, looking sad.

  “So am I, my boy, but we have each other and Monica. In life, people die, but the good thing about it is that there are always so many more people to love, even if we miss the ones we've lost.”

  Shaun nodded, looking thoughtful.

  “Yes, I love lots of people. I love my grandparents and my friends.”

  “Yep, you do. And you’ll meet so many more people as you grow up.”

  “That’s pretty cool, you know. I mean, there are lots of people.”

  I laughed.

  “Yes, there are!”

  As Shaun went back to building, my thoughts returned to Pat. I thought of what Shaun had said about the girl. She tore up a painting because she was sad, much the same way Pat had torn up our friendship and poor Peter because she was sad. I knew somewhere deep down that Pat would never want to hurt anyone. If anything, she probably felt terrible about it. I should talk to her. And talking is best done in person. Text messages and calls were, in my opinion, a lousy excuse for not seeing someone face-to-face.