The Scene Stealer: A Hollywood Romance

by Renee Harless

  I spot the auto shop first, one of the loading bay doors open with an SUV up on the lifts. Since my return to L.A., I haven’t even had a chance to drive the Porsche that brought me here.

  “Is that it?” Tommy’s deep voice rattles, bringing my attention to the building with a crowd snaking out the door and looking into the large front window.

  “Yeah. There is parking along the side alley or we can park on the street.”

  Tommy nods, a man of few words, and pulls effortlessly into an open spot just up the road, the nose of the car pointed outward into the street. “Want to make sure we can get out easily if it comes to it.”

  “We should probably go in the back.”

  “Did you let them know that you were coming?” he asks. I had considered letting Jeff or Cole, who has become a good person to check in with, know that I was dropping by, but I decided against it. I didn’t want them to disclose my plans to Larsen. I know where their allegiance lies.

  Checking the clock, I see that they’re in the midst of the dinner crowd. 6:30 p.m. is the busiest time. I’m just hoping that she didn’t work the morning shift otherwise we’ll be heading to her apartment or Cole’s.

  “No.”

  Tommy nods in understanding and then exits the car, I do the same.

  The short walk around the building toward the back feels like walking to my death sentence - a mile-long walk toward my end.

  I ring the buzzer on the wall beside the door. Through the steel, I can hear the sounds of heavy footsteps approaching. Then the door opens wide and I’m shocked to see Jeff standing there, an apron around his waist.

  “Damn, I was wondering how long it would take you to get here.”

  I try to keep my anger in place, remembering the betrayal, because as I look at the man I had grown fond of I want nothing more than to have him embrace me as a father would and tell me that everything is going to be okay, that it’s all just a bad dream and it will be better when I wake up.

  Only the slam of the back door doesn’t wake me up, I’m still standing before a man that has an equal look of anger and relief swirling in his eyes.

  “She’s not here, son. It’s been a rough couple of hours.”

  “Where is she?” I demand, but our conversation is cut short as a car comes down the back road, the group inside recognizing me instantly.

  Gripping my arm in protection, Tommy says, “We need to go somewhere else, sir.”

  But I’m not deterred. “Where is she, Jeff?”

  “After she passed out, we took her to Cole’s. Jessica is keeping an eye on her.” I grow woozy hearing that Larsen lost consciousness. Despite whatever has happened to cause her to seek her fifteen minutes of fame I would never wish ill-will upon her. My legs feel like lead weights drawing me down to the ground. Tommy’s grip is the only thing keeping me upright.

  Something isn’t adding up. The report, the interviews, and Larsen’s reaction are all on different spectrums of truth pulling me in their opposing directions.

  “I need to see her.”

  “I assumed so. I’m texting you his address. I suggest driving around for a bit so that you don’t have any followers.”

  In my daze, I nod and allow Tommy to lead me back toward the car, avoiding the throngs of people now circulating down the back road.

  Just as we breach the corner, I shout back to Jeff, who has yet to step inside. I need to know. “The businesses okay?”

  “Yeah, booming. Guess we didn’t need that loan after all. Come find me before you head back.”

  With a fatherly smile, he waves and heads inside as Tommy leads me back to our rental.

  The car pulls out onto the street and I hand Tommy my phone so he can plug the address Jeff texts into the GPS. We pass through barren landscapes, rolling hills, swirling back roads, but I see none of it. Behind my eyes, all I see are visions of my angel morphing into a devil – my own heaven and hell.

  I jump in my seat as a hand clasps my shoulder, the seatbelt cutting into my chest and neck at my reaction.

  “Sorry, sir. You fell asleep. We’re here.”

  Shaking my head, I knock my brain back into place and try to prepare myself for my heart to be broken at Larsen’s confession.

  Together we exit the car and approach the small apartment complex near what looks to be a school down the road.

  “He’s in 208,” I tell Tommy, reading another text Jeff sent.

  We walk up the stairs in unison, and as we advance on his apartment, I can feel the sweat beading along the lines of the palms of my hands.

  My fist hovers over the door for a few seconds before I succumb to my need for the truth.

  With a whooshing sound, the door opens seconds after my knock and I find a woman standing on the other side with a tense expression. Her appearance is in total contrast to her pinched mouth. A billowy skirt and shirt in a cream color cascade from her shoulders and waist.

  “Um, is Larsen here?”

  “It’s about time,” the crass woman says as she ushers us inside. “Jeff said that you were on your way. I’m Jessica. She’s in that room there.” I follow where the woman points and walk down the hall, leaving Tommy alone with the stranger.

  Standing before the closed door, I take a heaving breath. Even without seeing her I can sense her presence on the other side of the flat wooden surface.

  I rap the door with my knuckles using the back of my hand. “Hey, can I come in?”

  I wait a few seconds, and when I get no reply, I reach down and twist the knob, the cool metal feeling foreign in my palm. Peering through the crack of the door, I find Larsen lying on the bed, her back facing me.

  My feet lead me inside as if I were possessed, an unconscious soul drifting through the barrier.

  “Larsen?” I whisper as I approach the opposite side of the room.

  I’m surprised by what I find when I reach the right side of the bed. Larsen lays there, her face void of emotion as she stares blankly at the barren wall. Her eyes barely move when she blinks. It reminds me of watching someone shrink into his or her own personal shell.

  Seeing her this way has me rethinking the claims crashing in my head. But until I hear her deny them myself, I’ll never know the truth.

  Crouching down to her level, her stare never breaks until I reach my hand out and touch her arm. Her entire body jerks at my touch as if I’ve electrocuted her.

  It’s both terrifying and awakening all at once.

  “Devyn?” she asks in shock at seeing me. “Are you really here?”

  “Yeah, I am,” I tell her softly, doing very little to mask my emotions.

  Without a moment’s notice, she jack-knifes off the bed and launches herself at me, her arms tightly wrapping around my neck. We’re lost in a sea of our demise and drowning in each other.

  I can’t help but return her embrace, my heart won’t let me react any other way. She’s my own personal life raft keeping my head afloat.

  For the first time since this morning, I feel like I can catch my breath, feel my lungs expand with each inhale.

  Her tears wet my shirt and I can barely make out her garbled words. “Why are they doing this?” A flash of silver on the nightstand catches my eye and I see that a laptop is resting on top. She must have watched the entire video over again.

  Against my better judgment, and my heart’s, I pull out of her hold. But I can’t help but reach up and rest my palms on her cheeks, wiping away her tears.

  “Larsen, I need to know. . .” My words trail off as I leave the unspoken question hanging in the air.

  “I never. . . Devyn, I never said anything. I never did anything. Hell, I didn’t even know that this was going on. Do you think that?

  “My gosh, did you not listen to the things they said about me? They literally turned me into a monster and you think that I did the interview they faked?”

  “People do crazy things for money and with your uncle’s business-”

  “Are you kidding me?” she shouts. �
��I would never ever use someone that way. I thought you knew me better than that.”

  Her body shakes on the bed; I can feel the vibrations rattling the coils in the mattress.

  “I know, it’s just. . . it’s convincing. Elena said-”

  “Excuse me? Elena? So she puts ideas in your head and you believe her over me? What did Tessa say?”

  “Tessa is why I’m here.”

  Larsen backs off the bed, standing on the opposite side with her arms crossed. A tangible barrier separating us. I hadn’t realized that she was wearing her yellow shirt and black pants. Everything must have happened while she was working. I want to reach out to her again, feel that irreplaceable connection that we have, but she’s distancing herself from me and it’s my own fault.

  “Larsen, I realize now that you didn’t sell your story to save your uncle. I don’t know why I believed her. But that’s what I’m used to. You know that.”

  “I’m not everyone else, Devyn. I thought we could trust each other.” She begins to pace around the small space, her hand tangling in her blonde strands from her frantic movements. Abruptly she stops and turns to face me, her eyes void of any emotion, and I’ve never been more terrified. I know that this is the end even before she utters the words and I prepare myself for the fall. If I thought a plummet in Hollywood was brutal, I was severely underestimating what a fall from a lover’s pedestal would feel like.

  “I can’t do this, Devyn. I love you, I’m certain you know this.”

  I had hoped, but we never shared the phrase. I want to tell her that I love her too, but I know that it wouldn’t be welcomed.

  “But I know that you love your precious career. You want the lights, the tabloids, the gossip. I don’t. I want nothing to do with it. You believing a word of it today is enough proof that I’m not cut out for your life.”

  Unable to hold back, I crawl across the bed, the plush surface seeming a mile wide, until I’m standing just a few steps from her. I reach out, but she recoils, and I feel like a bullet rips through my chest.

  “I think it would be best if you leave. Please don’t contact me. I. . .I’m not strong enough.”

  With the hollowness in her eyes, I know that there is no negotiating to be had. She’s made up her mind about me, about herself, about us. And as much as it hurts me to walk away, I know that it’s my fault.

  I know her, probably better than anyone else. We shared things with each other that no one else will ever know.

  And as I turn to leave the room, I give her one last look. She looks exactly the same as she did the first day I met her, except this time I’m the reason tears stain her cheeks.

  Tommy joins me silently, knowing there are no words to exchange on my end. As we cross the threshold, I consider leaving my heart at the door, no reason to take something with me that will always belong to her.

  Except, after today, I’m not sure I ever had one to begin with.

  CHAPTER TWELVE – LARSEN

  As predicted, my glimpse of fame is over as quickly as it crashed in. A Hollywood couple is facing divorce after an affair with the nanny and I become yesterday’s news.

  The diner is still just a busy, but not at the length it had been nine days, seven hours, and three minutes prior.

  Yes, instead of the days blurring into one, I count down each minute and second of my time. The countdown isn’t to remind me how long I have until something remarkable is going to occur; instead, it’s counting how long it’s been since my life irrevocably changed.

  My breaths never seem as deep. My steps never seem as sure. My desires never seem too passionate.

  Devyn has kept his word about not contacting me and I’m both sad and grateful. At night, I long for the times I could feel his gravelly voice wrap around me as I lay in bed, cocooning my body in his possession.

  Since our downfall, I lost focus. School became a struggle and I’ve had to terminate my classes for the remainder of the semester, promising the University that I will re-enroll in the Spring. The representative had been accommodating.

  Late night television and ice cream have become my new nightly routine.

  The reservations for my online rental have been canceled for the next two months unless they are repeat guests. I can’t trust that it’s not someone reaching out in hopes of a piece of Devyn.

  Everyone has been accommodating. Waiting for my breakdown. Waiting for emotional outcry.

  “Black clothes again?” Karen asks as I walk into the back of the diner. She and Uncle Jeff have gotten closer since my world flipped around. He’s taken my advice and escorted her on a few dates. I’m glad to see him moving on, but I can’t help but admit that I’m jealous of the happiness they’ve found.

  I glance down at my outfit. My T-shirt is an over-washed item of Cole’s that sports almost a gray tone. I borrowed it during my short stay with him and Jessica and never returned it. My legs are covered in my standard black jeans.

  “You know I can’t. . .” I leave the sentence hanging in the air. As if a lamp has been turned off, I feel enveloped by darkness. Colors remind me of my time with Devyn. Of a time when my life was vivid and vibrant and promising.

  The yellow shirt required by the staff causes me to reminisce of the delicate yellow dress I had worn to surprise Devyn in Chicago. It now hangs solemnly in the back of my closet.

  Leaving her post at the griddle, Karen approaches. The scent of her perfume, a floral smell reminding me of spring, tickles my nose.

  “It gets better, Larsen. Soon the hurt will bleed away and you’ll be left feeling anew. Your heart will move on, don’t sell yourself short.”

  Despite her graphic advice, I feel marginally better after she gives me a one-armed hug.

  Because of my attire, I stay behind the counter working. I’m not really one for company or the fake happiness of waiting tables to get decent tips.

  The counter is filled with my regulars, people that live in town and they work to protect me from the onlookers.

  Dinner rush begins in about fifteen minutes and like clockwork Cole strolls in, flashing a smile at the new waitress, and then taking his open seat at the counter.

  “Hey, Larsen.”

  “Hi.” B.D., before Devyn, I would never make eye contact with the attractive man clamoring for my attention. I barely uttered two sentences to him in the years we’ve known each other. The butterflies that would take up resident in my stomach would flap wildly in his presence. Now, A.D., after Devyn, the flutters have expired. The butterflies following my heart as it left my body with Devyn. Cole and I actually hold conversations when he comes in.

  “Jessica is coming in this weekend. She wants to know if you want to go hiking with us.”

  “Uh. . .I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” In a rare moment A.D. a giggle escapes from between my lips. The customers at the counter all take notice and stop what they’re doing to focus on me. John’s in such shock that the condensation on his glass causes him to lose his grip on the glass, water spilling across the counter.

  Grabbing a cloth from below, I wipe away the wetness, all twelve customers’ eyes following my every movement.

  “Um. . .well, if you change your mind, you know how to reach me.”

  “Sure. Now, what can I get you to eat?” I ask as I fill up his typical glass of Coke.

  Smiling broadly, his straight pearly whites glisten under the overhead lights. “The special.”

  “Who told you it was the stroganoff?”

  Everyone sitting at the counter breaks out into laughter as I stare in confusion then my eyes settle back on John as he blushes beneath his beard. “I told you. My nose, knows.”

  It’s late when we close the diner, my special always drawing in a larger crowd and now it’s even more than before. Since I’ve moved back into my apartment Officer Tawny asked that I have an escort home every night. Even though I feel like I’m wasting their time and keeping the officers away from something more important, I do like the added feeling of
safety. I never fight them on it. The entire town cares and they want to make sure that nothing happens to me, especially since the letters haven’t stopped and have grown more threatening.

  The most recent one, I received yesterday. This time instead of just the picture and letter there was a small lock of my hair attached. Well, it could have been anyone’s since it was blonde, but we didn’t want to be too careful.

  I didn’t want to be too careful.

  I haven’t let anyone know that the threats are starting to scare me. I assumed with myself removed from Devyn that they would stop, but they’ve only gotten more frequent.

  “Are you ready?” Tawny asks as she steps into the diner. She’s in plain clothes, a nondescript T-shirt and jeans.

  I lock the door behind her and turn off the lights. Our usual routine has us exiting through the backdoor, though we do like to change it up every once in a while, just to be careful.

  “Yes. I just need to lock the drawer to the register.”

  “No problem. I’ll wait.”

  I finish closing everything up, taking only about ten minutes, then I’m ready to go.

  We ride in the police cruiser to my apartment. And, as usual, Tawny walks ahead of me on the stairs even reaching the top of the landing before I can get halfway.

  But she’s on high alert when we reach the top of my stairwell. Something triggers her instincts and she tells me to step back.

  I pull out my phone and check my security systems app – no alarms.

  She reaches out and twists the brass doorknob, finding it unlocked. She draws her gun and slinks into the space.

  The wall ahead of me blurs – my vision growing hazy at the thought of someone breaking into my apartment. Reaching out for the railing on the stairs, my shaking hand almost misses the metal bar with the chipping gray paint.

  A scream sounds from behind my apartment door and my feet start moving before I can think better of it. I trip on the top step in my haste to get to Tawny, my palms slapping against the linoleum floor.