I wanted to ask Chase what was going on, but he was already dialing another number. “Hi Mike. Listen. I gotta get to Georgia… Tonight… Yeah…Thanks. Can you book two tickets for me?… Phoebe Fairchild… Right…Just a few days. I just have to see her. I know you understand…And production? … That’d be great. Thanks.” He ended the second call and stuck his phone in his pocket.
I wanted to ask him what the hell was going on, but I couldn’t find the words.
“We’re going to Georgia. Tonight. When you’re done with dinner, take the car and go pack a bag. I’ll get a cab to the hotel, and the driver will come and get me then we’ll fly out,” he finally said in a rush.
“Fuck you, Chase. I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“I need to go to Georgia, and I’m going to need a friend. And right now, you’re the closest thing I’ve got. Finish eating, and go pack. Pack light. Carry-on luggage only. A backpack would be best. I can take you clothes shopping there. I’ll leave word with the Town Car.” With that, Chase left the trailer and I was left in some alternate universe.
Suddenly my phone started vibrating in my pocket. The caller ID showed that it was Valerie. On the one hand I was surprised that she was calling me. Then I got nervous. Had word gotten back to her that Chase and I had….?
I answered the call quickly. “Hi, Ms. Cocozza.”
“Phoebe. Chase’s manager just called me. There’s been an emergency in Chase’s family. He needs to go home to Georgia. I would be very grateful if you went with him. I think you’re good for him and this is going to be a tough trip.”
What the…? Surely she wasn’t saying I should be going to Georgia with this fucking asshole.
“I—I—I guess,” I stuttered. “What’s going on?” I asked her, my head spinning. Surely this wasn’t the norm. Of course nothing about my being assigned as Chase’s PA was normal. Normally studios didn’t hire a personal assistant like this. A true personal assistant was hired by the celebrity and they would be doing these types of personal trips. I was a studio babysitter, like Chase had called me last week. A studio sitter he decided to fuck around with.
“It’s his mother,” Valerie said. “I’m sure Chase will fill you in. I am actually …out… on a date… and just stepped out to take his manager’s call, and now I’m calling you.”
“Okay, but—”
“Fabulous!” she said, not letting me finish. “Call me when you get to Georgia and let me know how long you think you may be. I’ll get everything covered on this end. And, Phoebe?”
“Yeah?”
“Keep him out of trouble,” she warned.
And with that, the line was silent.
CHAPTER 24
The Delta Airlines flight, a 9:27 pm flight, touched down in Atlanta, Georgia just before midnight that Monday night. I didn’t finish eating my dinner after the announcement that I would be accompanying Chase on this sudden trip. In a haze of what-the-fuck? I went to my apartment, packed a small bag as ordered, and met Chase at his hotel around seven-thirty. The entire ride to the airport, waiting for our flight, and on the plane, Chase said only a few polite words to me. No chatting, no schmoozing, no seducing.
He did hold my hand, non-stop. I don’t know why I let him, I just did. Something about his nearly shut down demeanor. To be fair, on the plane Chase didn’t say much, but that may have been because I fell asleep promptly after takeoff. But his silence had me concerned, and took the edge off of my anger at him. He seemed worried and lost.
Once we deplaned and were headed down toward the exit, Chase checked his text messages and said, “My car is parked in the North lot.” He looked up at the signs and pulled me toward one of the two hallways. “This way,” and dragged me along determinedly down the harshly lit corridor. I couldn’t stand the silence anymore.
“Chase, what are we doing here? What is going on?”
Without slowing or looking at me, he sighed heavily. “It’s my mom. She’s sick.”
“Oh,” I said, trying to keep up with him. “I’m sorry.”
His walk slowed to a stop and turned to me. “She has cancer. Breast cancer. Stage Three. She started chemo two months ago, and…” His voice cracked, his forehead wrinkled up, and his eyes watered.
“Shhh,” I said, pulling him to me and slipping my arms around him. His arms wrapped around me tightly. He felt tense. “She’s getting help, right? We’re going to see her now.” I did my best to soothe him. But I had no idea how to do that right.
“Her brother, my Uncle Brock, he’s been staying with her and keeping me updated. This round of chemo has been especially brutal. Mom wants me to keep working and being happy, but … but… she’s my mom. She makes me happy. I’d give up all the acting gigs from this point onward if it meant she’d be healthy.”
“Oh, hon,” I said. I didn’t know what to say. I was lost. I had no idea his mother was sick, and so sick at that. It certainly hadn’t been a part of the media, or on his clipboard.
“I’m so scared, Phoebe. I’ve lost everyone I’ve ever loved,” he whispered into my neck. It was so quiet that I wasn’t quite sure I heard it right.
Suddenly he pulled back, and wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand and sniffled loudly. “Sorry,” he apologized. “I didn’t mean to lose it on ya.”
“Hey, no apologies necessary.” I took his face in my hands and looked him square in the eye. A tear continued from his eye and ran into my thumb, which I brushed away for him. “I’m here as your friend, remember? Whatever you need.”
We looked at each other for a good long moment, reading one another on a different level. He took a big breath in, and let it out with puffed cheeks, and managed half of a signature smirk. “Thanks. I mean it.” He took one of my hands in his, kissed the back of it softly which sent shivers up and down my spine, and we continued, in silence, to head to the exit.
Fifteen minutes later we were in Chase’s fire engine red Jeep Wrangler with a canvas cover and barreling down I-285 west toward I-20 west. Country music played on the radio, which floored the hell out of me, but I didn’t say anything. I just sat back, enjoyed the tunes, and tried to strengthen myself for what was about to be a rough few days.
“We’re home,” I heard Chase say as he shook my shoulder gently. I must have fallen asleep because I didn’t remember getting off of the highway.
I stretched, rubbed my eyes, and looked out of the windows. In the light of the near full moon, I saw a nice sized white farmhouse with a quaint wrap-around porch and a light next to the door, bright and shiny. Next to the house was a massive barn, and surrounding those two impressive buildings were miles of flat land that looked like crops of some sort with long, organized rows of plants growing.
“What time is it?” I asked yawning, as Chase opened the door on my side.
“Just after one. C’mon, you’re exhausted. Let’s get you to bed.” He held out a hand for me which I took, the words let’s get you to bed, doing more to me than they should have given the nature of this visit.
We crept into the house, Chase carrying my bag for me. Guiding me in the darkness, he led us upstairs. He pointed out the door where his mother slept, the bathroom, and the door to the room where his Uncle Brock was sleeping, clearly evidenced by the snoring.
“This is my room,” he said, walking past another room, “And this here will be your room,” he said in that southern accent I’d heard him use in the hotel. He opened the door to a room at the end of the hall and strode inside to the side table where he flicked on a small lamp next to the bed.
It was an adorable room, shabby-chic style, with white painted wrought iron head and footboard, and a beautiful quilt, a rocking chair, and a small dresser. But my attention was really drawn to the windows. Looking out into the moonlit night, the fields in their neat rows were even more pronounced. But what really grabbed my attention was the gazebo next to a lake with a pier and a small rowboat tethered to post.
“It’s a private lake,” Chase said behind m
e, taking a deep breath.
“It’s beautiful. So peaceful.”
“It is. I love coming here when I need to decompress.”
“I can see why,” I said, yawning again.
“Okay, missy. You need to get to bed,” he said backing away. He pulled down the covers and invited me in.
“I have to brush my teeth first,” I said, picking up my bag and setting it on the dresser.
“Of course,” Chase said. “You can use the bathroom first. I’ll see you in the morning.” He leaned in and kissed my forehead. “Thank you for coming,” he whispered, his lips not leaving my skin.
“You didn’t really give me an option,” I said, pulling back and looking him in the eye. “But I’m glad I’m here for you.” Chase smiled warmly and gave me a quick hug, then left quietly.
After I used the bathroom, I peeked in Chase’s room. He had changed into a t-shirt and boxers, and stood quietly by the window, looking at the same view that had me entranced moments earlier. He looked so pensive and I just wanted to walk up to him and hug him again. Instead, I silently crept back to my room. The last thought before going to bed was of Chase, and I hoped my being here was a good thing.
I woke early the next morning, only slightly disoriented, and admired the simple, but country-elegance of the furnishings in the guest room. Glancing at the clock I saw it was just after six-thirty, and listening carefully, I heard that the house was still as quiet as the night. I considered going back to sleep but I was afraid to fall back asleep and not be awake when Chase woke up. It was my job to keep him out of trouble.
I slid out of bed and went to the window to get a look at the lake in the morning light. I couldn’t decide which view was better, the moonlit lake, or the water sparkling in the morning sun. I wondered if I might be able to take out the cute rowboat that sat bobbing and awaiting a passenger. As my gaze drifted to the gazebo, I noticed that it was romantically covered in purple flowering vines. And sticking out from those vines, I spotted a pair of feet. I’d only seen Chase’s naked feet once, but I was certain that I would never forget them, and it was those feet in question that were in the gazebo.
I grabbed a cardigan from my bag, and went to see how Chase was doing this morning. It was awfully early, and he hadn’t gotten sleep like I had gotten on the plane and in the car. If he was still awake, that would not be a good thing.
Stepping out in the crisp morning Georgia air, I shivered slightly. It felt like the Napa mornings—it was exhilarating. I headed to the path that led to the lake and gazebo and wondered if I’d misjudged the feet. Maybe it’d be his Uncle Brock. So, I slowed and crept a little closer to make sure I knew who was sitting in there. Carefully peering, I confirmed that it was Chase. He looked so sad… Ever since yesterday’s call, Chase was so different. Melancholy. And this was no act.
I stepped up to the side of the gazebo and knocked quietly on the doorway.
He turned to me. I saw him put on a face. I’d seen it before. His paparazzi face. It was like a switch.
“Hey, Phoebs. You’re up early.”
“So are you,” I said stepping in and taking a seat on the wall to the right of him so I didn’t block the view he’d been focused on so fiercely. “I’m surprised you’re up.”
“Yeah,” he whispered, turning back to the column he was staring at. I studied the column with him.
“What are we looking at?” I whispered.
“The morning glories. They’re just opening”
I nodded silently, but was perplexed. The air was charged, but not with sexual tension like every other time we were alone. Like we were sharing something far more intimate. This was friendship.
“Look,” he breathed. I looked to where he was pointing. Before our very eyes, and slowly but surely, the bud moved. Together, with only our breath and the occasional bird cry, to disturb the quiet, we watched one of the tightly wrapped flowers open.
“I love to watch them open. So tight and tiny, to the broad, rich purple face and that bright white center… They are like promise and hope. Some people wish on shooting stars; my mom and I wish on morning glories. Make a wish, Pheobs.”
Whoa. Chase Smythe waxing poetic on morning glories. Who was this? Not the Chase I knew. And suddenly, I got it. This was the real Chase. Not some high profile persona. Not some facade.
Oh, a wish. What do I wish for?
I looked at more of the tight buds and watched closely as they started to unfurl. A wish… Do I need a poem like the stars? ‘Star light, star bright, first star…’ but with a morning glory? And a wish. I had so many. But right now, the only thing that came to mind were two…One that Chase’s mother was going to be fine, and two, that I would get my period today.
“I wish that my mom will be okay,” I thought as loudly as I could. Suddenly, another opening morning glory caught my eye. “I wish that Phoebe and I can get things back on track and that it lasts forever.”
I had totally screwed things up with her. And yes, I’d used lines from a script, but they were perfect. Why couldn’t I ever come up with the right thing to say to her? With other girls, I’d just say stuff and they’d get it… With Phoebe, I tried so hard that I messed things up. Although what I’d said in the trailer, about not trusting my heart… that was a good one, right? And not a line. But I’d meant them all. I wanted a chance.
Looking over at Phoebe, as she wished on the waking morning glories, I couldn’t imagine any place I’d rather be. She looked simply perfect here, in this gazebo, her blonde hair falling tenderly on her shoulders, at this lake while the sun rose, by my side. I stood and sat next to her, picked up her hand and sat back. She sighed and wiggled her fingers, lacing them with mine, causing my heart to swell. This was the moment in the movie that the music grew loud and ‘hugged’ the characters, letting the audience know that everything was going to be all right. That despite the bumps that had been hit, and were yet to happen, the couple would find their sunset…their peace… their ‘happily ever after.’
Could that be us?
I don’t know what I would have done if Phoebe hadn’t come. She’s exactly what I needed today. And it’s weird how much I was looking forward to sharing my home, well mostly my mother’s home, with her. And sharing the Morning Glory Wish with Phoebe was beyond than perfect.
I didn’t know what I did to deserve her, but I was glad I’d done something right. And I hoped I didn’t fuck this up.
CHAPTER 25
After our wish session, I sat back with Chase’s arm draped over my shoulders, and looked out at the lake. It was unbelievably peaceful. I watched a mama duck and her ducklings swim across the lake, stop and grab for some food, then continue on. This whole place was simply idyllic.
I was still pissed as all get out after yesterday’s antics, realizing he’d seduced me with lines from the damn TV show he was shooting, but then he got that call. He’d grown so quiet. Pensive. Sad. Not the arrogant confident Chase I was all too familiar with, aside from that other phone call he’d gotten. This whole ordeal with his mother revealed Chase as a completely different person.
“Wanna go for a boat ride later?” he asked.
“Um, sure,” I agreed.
“Hungry for breakfast?” Chase asked, standing and offering me his hand. God, maybe he really was chivalrous. I couldn’t help my eyes traveling up his arm across and bicep to his firm chest then up to his stubbly jawline, charming smile, and lastly those incredible eyes.
“I could eat. What’s for breakfast? Cereal? Toast?”
“Pancakes and bacon?”
“Sure, I can make pan—”
“No, silly,” Chase said, tapping my nose. “I’m going to make pancakes and bacon.”
“You?”
“I make really good pancakes, I’ll have you know.”
“Right,” I said incredulously. “You cook,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.
“I make breakfast. Most important meal of the day. I have many surprising talents…some you
already know,” he said
I felt myself blush and kicked his foot. Chase laughed, grabbed my hand and we started walking toward the house. We were just about to the bottom of the steps when the front door flew open and a beautiful woman wearing an Atlanta Braves t-shirt and sleeping pants, and a bright green scarf wrapped around her head, rushed to the top of the stairs.
“Charlie!” she screamed and came racing down the front steps. She flung her arms around Chase. Charlie?
“It’s Chase, Mom,” he groaned and looked at me rolling his eyes and shaking his head.
I looked at the woman, Chase’s mom, and with her dark brown eyes, dark brown hair sticking out from under the scarf, and porcelain skin, figured that Chase must look more like his father.
“Chase, Charlie, Charles – I gave you those names, I can take ’em away. Besides, I’m the sick one here. I can call you anything I want to.”
“Ma, why you gotta talk like that?” Charlie? A Jersey accent? Chase had just replied to his mom in a thick New Jersey accent like from the show Jersey Heat that he starred in.
“And this must be Phoebe,” she gushed, pulling me into a warm hug. “You’re even prettier than he said,” she whispered in my ear, making me blush.
“Mom, yes, this is Phoebe. Phoebe, my mom—Shannon Smith. Ma, I’m makin’ pancakes and bacon,” Chase (Charlie?) said, his Jersey accent persisting.
“If you’re makin’ ’em, I’m eatin’ ’em,” she said in a sweet southern drawl. She walked over and gave Chase a kiss on the cheek and a hug. “You didn’t have to come home, you know. I’m fine. Uncle Brock is a worrywart.”
Chasing the Dream: Dream Series, Book 3 Page 18
