A plump woman holding a clipboard met them at the top of the stairs. “Okay, Mom, who do we have here?” The woman stared expectantly at her.
Rorie froze under her gaze, her brain spinning. Mom? She thinks I’m Tyler’s mother. No! I’m not anyone’s mom…I never wanted to be… Only something about that assertion struck her as not entirely accurate. Maybe if I’d known Cecily was pregnant back in college? I’m sure I would have felt differently about it then. And then I guess I actually would be Tyler’s mom…
The woman cleared her throat, snapping Rorie out of her thoughts with a start.
“The name’s Tyler Parker.” Tyler’s voice rang out behind her.
Rorie squeezed her eyes shut, feeling like an idiot for freezing up the way she had. The woman had simply wanted the boy’s name, not a lengthy justification of Rorie’s choices regarding the production and rearing of offspring. At least I had the sense to keep my mouth shut just now.
The woman held out a packet containing a handbook and a set of keys, giving Rorie a sympathetic look as she handed them over. “It’s okay. All the parents are a little shell-shocked on moving day.”
Rorie didn’t bother to correct her. Parent or not, shell-shocked seemed a fitting description. She flipped through the handbook, hoping to clear her head. Skimming through page after page of regulations, she wrinkled her nose in distaste. This place has a lot of rules. She would have hated living here. She studied the back of Tyler’s head as they entered the house and felt a strange stirring inside—a surge of protectiveness and responsibility—that she’d never experienced before. It made her jittery to realize that as much as she would have hated this place, she suddenly knew exactly why Cecily had chosen it. She’d never thought she’d have what it took to be a mother, but if she’d been faced with the decision, she would’ve chosen this place, too.
A quick check of the number on the keys told them that Tyler’s room was on the third floor. Trudging up the narrow staircase, Rorie detected an unmistakable odor—sweet and pungent—which got stronger as they approached the door. The source of the smell lay sprawled across one of the bare mattresses inside: a bronzed, long-haired young man whose stereotypical surfer apparel absolutely reeked of the lingering essence of marijuana smoke. Rorie blinked rapidly as the fumes assaulted her eyes and coated the back of her throat.
“Dude. S’up? I’m Jeff.” Sitting up, he held out his hand and Tyler, seemingly undisturbed by the stench, gave it a hearty shake.
“Tyler,” he introduced himself. “And this is my mom’s girlfriend, Rorie.”
“Dude.” Jeff managed to convey both a friendly greeting and his general approval of her lifestyle choices remarkably well with just one syllable and a nod of the head.
Rorie glanced at the rulebook that was still clutched in one hand. There was an entire chapter devoted to weed, and the dire consequences facing all who dared possess it. Something told her that Jeff had skipped over that part. Uneasiness settled into the pit of her stomach. It didn’t take years of parenting experience to spot the potential for disaster with this boy. The last thing she needed with Cecily out of town was for Tyler to get dragged into the trouble that Jeff would inevitably stumble upon.
Should I talk to him about this? She tried to imagine how Cecily would react if she were here, but stopped quickly when the imagined screaming in her head started to feel a little too real for comfort. She knew she should step in and say something parental about this situation, but what? She had no idea, but when Jeff left the room a moment later, Rorie cleared her throat and gave it a try.
“How do you feel about the new roommate?” she began cautiously, trying to be discreet.
Tyler shrugged. “He seems cool.”
“Yeah. Yeah he does…” Her voice trailed off uncertainly, her eyes darting around the room as if searching for help in what to say. She spotted a book on the edge of Tyler’s desk and picked it up, turning it over absently in her hands. “Hey, are these pictures from your trip to Europe?” she asked when she realized she was holding a photo album.
Tyler stiffened visibly, his eyes widening as he stared at the album. That’s odd, Rorie thought, he couldn’t care less about the stoner roommate, but he’s freaking out over me seeing this book. As if Cecily were behind her, giving her budding motherly instincts a firm shove, Rorie took a closer look, noting a picture of Tyler with a girl, posed in front of the Eiffel Tower, on the cover. “I don’t remember seeing this picture posted on your page. And your mom said you were with a bunch of guys from school. So, who’s the girl?”
“Uh…I don’t really remember—”
“Don’t remember?” Rorie cocked an eyebrow at this lame excuse. She held up the book, which she realized now was a handmade scrapbook—a very feminine looking handmade scrapbook—and waved it in the air. “Why do I have a feeling that the girl who made this for you would be shocked to hear about your memory lapse, Tyler?”
Tyler’s shoulders hunched in defeat. “Look, it’s just my mom doesn’t know there were any girls on the trip, and she’d freak out.”
Rorie studied him through narrowed eyes, feeling uncertain. “And that’s all you were worried about right now, your mom finding out there was a girl with your group? Not a special girl, or anything. Just a girl.”
Tyler’s eager nod turned sheepish under Rorie’s prolonged stare. “Well,” he said, “a girl that mom might not be happy about. Reese Schroeder.”
Rorie grimaced at the name. Schroeder? Shit. “Let me guess, Polly’s daughter.”
Tyler nodded again, visibly squirming.
“And there’s nothing more to this story?” Rorie imagined she could hear her father’s stern voice alongside her own. “So you’re not dating Reese, or anything like that?”
Tyler shook his head vehemently.
Liar. Rorie sighed. “Okay.” She tossed the album gently back on the desk.
“You won’t mention it?” Tyler looked at her with pleading eyes, a smile brightening his face when Rorie shook her head.
Hell no! I want nothing to do with this. “That seems like the type of thing that’s between you and your mom.” Frankly, Rorie hoped she’d be conveniently out of the country if the topic ever came up for discussion. “You need to promise me something, though,” she added, remembering her more immediate worries about Tyler’s roommate.
“Yeah, of course. What is it?”
“About your roommate, Jeff. I don’t know, Tyler. He just seems…like someone who could get you in trouble. This dorm has a zero-tolerance policy for drugs. Be smart.”
“I promise, Rorie.” His voice was as earnest as his face. “I can handle myself.” He hesitated, biting his lip nervously just like his mom sometimes did. “But, maybe you can kind of not mention this to mom, either? I just don’t want her to worry about it for no reason.”
Rorie rubbed her temples, trying to decide the right thing to do. The girl, the roommate—Tyler was probably right, they were minor things. Nothing to worry Cecily about. With as high strung as she’d been lately after missing this trip and working so many sixteen hour days, this might send her over the edge. And Tyler was a young adult who deserved some privacy. Rorie wasn’t his parent, or even his babysitter. It wasn’t her place to interfere.
Finally, she nodded. “Just be smart about this, okay? Don’t let yourself get dragged into anything that seems like a bad idea.”
Tyler folded her into a giant bear hug that left her tingling. He's a good kid. She was surprised by the worry that had come over her. It felt out of character and left her flummoxed. Cecily was the mother hen, not her. And yet she felt a tenderness in her heart that was strange and new.
Rorie squinted in the bright sun outside as she walked to her car, still plagued by a vague uncertainty about her choices today. While she was talking to Tyler, she’d felt impossibly stern, but thinking back on it, maybe she’d been a pushover. She felt like she’d just been given an important test when it came to her place in Cecily’s family, and it wa
s too early to know whether she had passed or failed.
Chapter 13
As the door clicked behind her this morning, Cecily counted herself lucky that she’d been allowed to sleep past six. She felt almost refreshed, thanks in large part to the huge thermal cup filled with coffee that Rachel pressed into her hand the moment she stepped off the van. The latching of the trailer door was fast becoming the most familiar sound of Cecily’s day. She was often in before the sun was up, out again for hair and makeup. In to grab the latest script revisions, out to run through a scene. In and out, in and out, and in between there was more hard work than she’d ever done in her life, bringing with it equal parts exhilaration and exhaustion.
Twelve hour days felt almost easy now that the sixteen hour days had arrived. Those were the days when they filmed on location, when the driver arrived in front of her apartment so early that the few other souls on the street were just as likely to be heading home from a club as they were to be heading out to start their work day. Cecily would stretch her legs out in the back of the van, staring bleary-eyed as they wound their way through unfamiliar streets, until the outline of white trailers appeared in the distance, and another work day started almost before she’d realized the last one had ended.
Her eyes swept casually around the inside of her trailer, her second home. She’d become so used to it that she didn’t notice its impressiveness anymore. The only thing that made her pulse quicken this morning was the floral arrangement in the middle of the coffee table, overflowing with giant sunflowers and sprays of fragrant lavender. It had been a gift from Rorie for her birthday, arriving, along with a voice mail, at one of the many times when Cecily had been working on set.
In the two days since, she’d received and returned three additional messages from her, but they’d not yet managed to connect. Par for the course since she’d arrived in Portland, it seemed. She gazed at the vase, taking in the cheery yellow petals, then plucked a sprig of purple blooms and rolled it between her fingers. The clean, feminine scent it released reminded her of evenings spent soaking in the tub with Rorie, and filled her heart with love—and loneliness.
The sound of footsteps on the stairs outside the trailer caught her attention just as Rachel’s head poked around the door.
“Cecily? I’ve finished loading today’s schedule and revisions.” She placed the iPad on the coffee table next to the flowers, inhaling as she did. “Those smell wonderful! Have you ever managed to get a hold of your girlfriend to thank her?”
Cecily shook her head. “We’re both working nonstop, I guess. She’s a production designer on a TV show, so she’s as busy as I am.”
“Sure, Rorie Mulloy, right? I just read the article about her in Backstage Pass.”
“Oh no! I’m losing track of time. Has the issue been out very long?” She’d completely forgotten about the article, along with everything else that wasn’t directly related to her job. “Some girlfriend I am.” Guilt spread like a dull ache in her chest, but she was too exhausted to think of how to fix her mistake.
Rachel gave her a sympathetic smile. “I’ll have a copy waiting for you at your next break.”
Cecily picked up the iPad and opened the day’s schedule. She squinted at the blurry text impatiently, then increased the font size and held the device as far from her eyes as her arm would allow.
“Having trouble?” Rachel asked.
Cecily sighed. “My eyes just won’t focus lately. I’ve been chalking it up to lack of sleep, but I’m afraid that the birthday I just had is the more likely culprit.”
“Do you want me to bring you your reading glasses?”
Cecily made a face. “I don’t have any. I’ve never needed them before.”
“Don’t worry. Lots of people need them,” Rachel soothed. “I know we’re trying to be environmentally friendly, but those tablets are a lot harder on the eyes than paper.”
“That's a fib to humor me, but I appreciate it. Just spending so many long days with all these twenty-something costars is enough to remind me exactly how old I am. I guess aching joints and failing vision are just part of the deal.”
“How about I pick up a few strengths of reading glasses for you today at the drugstore, and book you a massage?”
Cecily grinned. “What will I do without you, Rachel? Can I take you back to LA with me?”
Rachel laughed. “Nah, I love Portland too much to leave. But you’re not going anywhere any time soon.”
“But, I’m supposed to be going home next week!” Cecily’s eyes were wide with panic. “Don’t tell me they’ve rescheduled it again. Rorie’s going to kill me! At this rate, I won’t get home until my contract’s finished.”
“No, no. You’re trip is fine. They’re not rescheduling it. It was the contract I was talking about.”
Cecily raised her eyebrows. “I was only guaranteed six episodes and we’re more than halfway through. No one has said anything, so I just sort of assumed…wait, do you know something?”
Rachel gave a coy shrug. “I hear things. I don’t have any details, and you can’t repeat this to anyone, but I saw some of the storyboards for the second half of the season, and your character’s name was all over them.” She leaned closer and added in a conspiratorial whisper, “And I think they have a big romance brewing between your character and Brad’s!”
Cecily laughed in disbelief. “Me and Brad Perris? That’s crazy. I just turned forty-one. In Hollywood years, that’s old enough to play his grandmother. Besides, our characters hardly even have scenes together.”
Rachel shrugged. “All I know is what I saw on the board.”
After Rachel had left, Cecily turned her attention back to the day’s script. One of the scenes had been changed significantly from its earlier version, and as Cecily read through it, she felt puzzled to see that they’d added Brad’s character to the scene, and some of the new dialog seemed almost…flirting. Would they really…? She’d been quick to dismiss Rachel’s speculation, but the way it was reading now, she could almost believe there was something to the romance theory. But pairing up a hot young Hollywood hunk with a middle aged lesbian? They’ve lost their minds. Cecily chuckled. No one will ever buy it.
An hour later, Cecily was a few steps away from the makeup trailer when her phone rang.
“Rorie!” She ducked into the space between two of the trailers for some privacy to talk. “Sweetheart, thank you so much for the flowers.”
“Glad you like them. Did you have a happy birthday?”
“It was okay. It would’ve been better if you were here.”
“Yeah, well…” Rorie didn’t need to say anything more. They both knew why that hadn’t been possible. The studio was still adamant about keeping a low profile on their relationship. “So, you’re definitely still coming home next week? No last minute changes?” There was a sense of urgency in her tone that made Cecily’s stomach flutter.
“Why, is there something wrong? Is it something about your mother?”
“No. I still haven’t decided if I’m going to contact her.”
“Then, is it something with Tyler? Because you sounded—”
The door to the makeup trailer opened with a loud bang. “Ms. DuPont?”
“Shit,” Cecily said into the phone. “I have to go. They’re ready for me in makeup.”
“It’s okay, it’s nothing to worry about. I’ll call you tonight and we can discuss it then. I love you.”
“Love you, too.” She ended the call with a sigh, her eyes lingering on Rorie’s photo on her screen until it went dark. She thought of her conversation with Rachel and the possibility that the studio would extend her contract. She loved her work, but every time she had to pick up the phone instead of being with her, Cecily could feel the hole that Rorie’s absence made in her heart. And now Tyler was in LA, a freshman in college, and she was missing that, too. If they extended her contract, would it be for another six episodes? The whole season? What if they promoted her to a series regular? It
was a thrilling prospect, but how long could she keep up this long distance arrangement? And how would she break the news to Rorie?
“Cecily, you have a minute?”
Cecily looked up to see the assistant director, Josh, heading her way. Reluctantly, she slowed her pace. She could see the door to her trailer from where she stopped, could almost feel the stretchy comfort of the yoga pants and the fleecy embrace of Rorie’s old hoodie that awaited her arrival at the end of another long day. But Josh was the one running the show, and when the boss wants to talk, Cecily knew it was usually a good idea not to argue. She looked at him expectantly, trying not to grimace as today’s ill-fitting shoes from wardrobe rubbed at the blister on the back of her heel. Please make this quick!
“Cecily, you’ve been doing a great job.” He patted her heartily on the back, knocking the air from her lungs. “I want you to know the studio execs are blown away by what they’re seeing. Blown. Away.” He repeated the words for extra emphasis. “I can't say this officially yet, but let's just say you should be hearing some good news from your agent pretty soon.”
He must mean the contract extension! Despite her exhaustion, Cecily suddenly felt giddy. Ever since her conversation with Rachel, she'd been thinking about the possibility of remaining in Portland beyond her original six episodes. She wasn't entirely certain how she felt about it yet, but she at least wanted to get the offer. If Josh was hinting at it, it was almost certainly going to happen.
Josh patted her on the shoulder. “So go get changed, ‘cause you’re going for a night on the town!”
Love's Encore Series (Books One and Two) Page 33
