Incidental Happenstance

by DeSalvo, Kim

  By the time the group made it up the stairs, a table had been set for them, partially in and partially out of the view of the main room, and several bottles of champagne had been popped and poured.

  Lexi rushed over to Tia. “Oh my God, these guys are so great!” she exclaimed. “They’re just so nice, and fun, and Bo is so charming!”

  “Yeah, he could charm the scales off a cobra,” Dylan teased. “But he’s basically pretty harmless.”

  Lexi turned back to Bo. “Oh, you have to tell them your Penelope Valentine story!”

  They sat at the table—Dylan and Tia opting for seats on the private side—and Bo recounted the story, complete with vivid descriptions of the look on Penelope’s face when she found herself standing in front of a 300 pound naked black man instead of ‘heartthrob Dylan Miller,’ as Bo put it. He was quite the storyteller, and by the time he finished, they were all laughing hysterically. Then Dylan raised his champagne glass, and proposed a toast.

  “I say it pretty much every birthday, every celebration that we have to have far from home. We chose this life of vagrancy, and we revel in it. But all of it would mean nothing if I didn’t have you bunch of ass holes to share it with.” They all raised their glasses toward him as he continued. “Seriously though Bo, you are without a doubt one of the best friends I’ve ever had, and I couldn’t have survived this crazy ride without you, mate. Happy birthday!”

  “Happy birthday!” they all joined in, clinking glasses and taking turns hugging Bo.

  A cake loaded with sparklers was carried to their table and they sang the requisite birthday song, with the patrons below joining in. Bo grinned from ear to ear, savoring every moment.

  After they’d done their thing with the group, Dylan and Tia slid back into their private booth. Lexi was doing fine on her own, dancing with the guys in turn and stopping to flirt with the Bears’ quarterback. She was a natural, Tia thought, wondering what her life would be like in a couple days with Dylan gone. She really felt like she didn’t have to act with him, didn’t have to try to flirt, and she hadn’t been able to even imagine that she could feel so comfortable with another guy. She hadn’t believed that could happen for a long time, anyway.

  They hadn’t been sitting alone for ten minutes when the music stopped again, and the crowd began cheering. They heard a voice announce, “Good evening Icon patrons! Looks like we have another special guest joining us this evening! Help me welcome Penelope Valentine, star of stage and screen, Oscar nominee, and very classy lady!” The cheers continued as Penelope obviously made her way to the VIP staircase.

  “Damn it,” Dylan said dejectedly, “looks like she found me. I guess there’s no avoiding her now.”

  “Guess not,” Tia agreed. “Any hope that she’s given up on finding you and just showed up accidentally?”

  “Hope so, but I doubt it,” Dylan answered. “She seemed pretty determined that she had to talk to me about something. Might as well let her say her peace, and then get rid of her.”

  He’d no sooner gotten the words out of his mouth then she appeared at the end of their booth. “Well, well. Dylan Miller. You certainly are a hard man to track down,” she said with honey in her voice.

  “I heard you were looking for me,” he answered politely. “Sorry I missed you at the arena, but I must have had my phone off, or something, and then I was anxious to get to Bo’s party. I guess you found me now, though.”

  “It wasn’t easy,” she smiled, “believe me. I had to get a whole team working to track you down to find out where you went after the show!”

  She extended her hand to Dylan and he shook it courteously. “So, what can I do for you Miss Valentine?”

  “Oh please, just Penelope is fine,” she smiled sweetly. “I have the most exciting news, and I was in town anyway, visiting a friend, and I wanted to tell you myself, in person.” She turned to Tia and motioned with her head toward the main VIP room. “Would you excuse us, please?” she asked politely. “This is personal business.”

  “We don’t have any personal business, Miss Valentine,” Dylan replied. “She can stay right here,” Penelope looked shaken for a moment, but maintained her flashing smile.

  “Well alright, then,” she said, sliding into the booth and sidling up to Dylan. “If you insist. Like I said, I have exciting news.”

  “Yes?” Dylan said, impatiently.

  Tia could see that Penelope was working hard to hold her little ‘nice girl’ act together. She smiled sweetly at Tia, but it was easy to read the scowl in her eyes.

  “I’d hoped we could have this conversation privately, but….” She looked around as if she was about to share a huge secret, then leaned into Dylan suggestively. “It’s not going public until tomorrow, but guess who your costar for Ambient Rain is going to be?”

  Dylan looked bored. “Let me guess. You?”

  “Yes!” she sang, her face lighting up. “I’m so excited to be working with you! I love your music of course, and I’ve seen your films, and can’t wait to bring the story to life with you!” She clapped her hands under her chin in a display of pure excitement. It was obvious to Tia that it was all an act, and not even a very good one at that. One look at Dylan told her that he wasn’t buying it, either. “It was a great show tonight, actually,” she added as an afterthought. “Thanks for fitting me in.” Inside she seethed that she’d been given only fourth row, but she forced her smile and batted her eyelashes at him without any regard for the fact that he sat with a date at his other side.

  Tia’s stomach sank a bit at the news, but she wasn’t really surprised. She’d heard Jessa tell Dylan that they’d be announcing his costar within the next couple days, and she’d guessed that might be why Penelope was so adamant about seeing him. It meant that she and Dylan would be filming and pretty much living together in New Zealand, on the other side of the world, for months. And she’d be sitting back in her fifth grade classroom, hanging out at the country club with Lexi and Ryan, and still trying to get her life back on track. It pulled something inside her out of whack, and she suddenly felt very dejected as the reality of the situation sunk in. She couldn’t help the fact that some of the happiness she’d been feeling lurched out of her, and jealousy, sadness, and emptiness crept in. Dylan sensed it, and put his arm around her, pulling her closer to him.

  “Well, that’s great, Miss Valentine,” he said, purposely ignoring her invitation to be on a first-name basis. “I look forward to working with you. I’ve seen some of your work, too. I’m sure it’ll be fun.” He kept his hand protectively around Tia as he said it, as if to reassure her of her own place. “Thanks for coming to tell me, I appreciate it, but we’re sort of in the middle a celebration here…” His voice trailed off and his eyes wandered toward the main room. The meaning was obvious—he was inviting her to leave.

  “Oh,” she said, her eyes dropping just for a moment. “I was actually hoping that we could get to know each other a little, spend some time together. I think that we could have great chemistry, you and me, and thought maybe we could explore that a little bit, see where it takes us…” She put on her sexiest pout, hoping to drop the hint a little deeper.

  Dylan responded by squeezing Tia even tighter and looking at Penelope with that one eyebrow raised. “Well, that’s…interesting,” he stumbled, unable to come up with a better word, “but that’s why they call it acting,” he said. “There doesn’t have to be any chemistry. I think we’ve both done enough of it to make it work when it needs to.”

  “But why waste the opportunity?” she soothed. “I’m here, and you’re here, and we have some pretty hot love scenes in the film, you know—I just finished reading the script.” Actually, she’d skimmed it, looking specifically for those scenes. She looked at Tia with contempt. “Look,” she pouted, “I didn’t want to say this except in private, but if you’re looking for some fun tonight, why waste your time with some groupie? Why not take your chances with someone who’s more at your level?” She dropped her voice to a
seductive whisper and looked at Dylan through drooped lids. “I think you’d find we have a lot in common.” She tried her best to sound sexy, but to Dylan, she just sounded desperate.

  Dylan physically felt Tia stiffen beside him, and when he looked at her, he could see the hurt in her eyes. Although he tried to contain his anger, his eyes and his words were full of venom. He flashed a sardonic smile and shook his head. “You’ve really got some balls, lady,” he said. “Look, Miss Valentine. I appreciate that you came all the way out here to tell me the news in person, but you’ve just insulted my date, someone I care about, and I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” Penelope started to speak, but Dylan continued firmly. “I’m going to ask you to leave now. I will see you in New Zealand, and we’ll do a movie together, with lots of acting, and that’ll be the end of it.” Penelope was backpedaling, trying to save face, but Dylan wouldn’t give her an opportunity to speak again. “Goodbye, Miss Valentine. Please don’t expect any tickets for tomorrow’s show or any other.”

  Bo chose that exact moment to sidle into the booth next to Penelope. Her eyes widened when she saw him and all the cool she was trying to portray slipped off her face.

  “Well helooo, Miss Valentine,” he said in a low, slow, and smooth voice. “I was hoping you’d come to my party. You left so suddenly before…”

  “That was just a mistake,” she stammered. “I was looking for Dylan—it was his name on the door! You were in his dressing room…”

  “Now see, I don’t believe in accidents,” he said, his voice dripping with obvious undertones. “I think that things happen for a reason. Incidental Happenstance, and all that.” He looked directly into her face, dropping his eyelids in a suggestive gesture. “And I can’t help but wonder what that reason might be.”

  Penelope tried to maintain her composure, but her voice faltered when she spoke. “I don’t… I think I just need to go now.”

  “Now come on, sugar,” he whispered, laying it on thick. “It’s my birthday. You’ve already seen me naked, so the least you can do is give me a dance,” he put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze.

  Penelope pressed herself even more against Dylan, but Bo just slid in closer, and twirled a lock of Penelope’s hair around his finger. She was really looking desperate now, like a caged animal seeking an escape, and despite her mixed emotions, Tia almost laughed.

  “I’ve got to go!” she exclaimed, winded. But it was obvious that Bo wasn’t moving. Finally, she climbed over Dylan and Tia to escape out the other side of the half-moon booth, jabbing Tia in the thigh with the tip of her spiked heel. She winced at the pain, and Dylan’s hand was there immediately, covering her protectively. Penelope nearly tripped getting out of the booth, and made a less than graceful exit. Bo and Dylan shared a smile and a knowing look.

  Penelope brushed down her skirt and tried to regain her dignity. She wasn’t used to being rejected this way. She wasn’t used to being rejected at all, and it really pissed her off. None of this had gone the way she’d planned it, and it was all because of that stupid bitch, that little girl who was way out of her league and taking all Dylan’s attention when it should have been hers and it wasn’t fair, not fair at all, and she wouldn’t be put off this way.

  “Goodbye, Miss Valentine.” Dylan replied coldly. “I’ll see you in September.” Penelope tossed Tia a hateful glare before quickly approaching the table of football players, her hand out in greeting and the sweet smile planted once more on her face.

  Dylan immediately turned to Tia. “Look at me,” he said, putting his finger under her chin and forcing her to meet his gaze. “Don’t you for one minute worry about a single word she said,” he whispered to her. “She doesn’t have a fraction of the class you have, and she knows it. I’m here with you tonight because I want to be—she couldn’t hold a candle to you.”

  Tia looked up at him and fought the emotions that raged inside her, but he could see the deep shadow in her eyes. Penelope’s words had hurt her, and she pulled away from him, stiffening under his touch.

  “It’s true, you know,” she said sadly, “pretty much everything she said.”

  “Now I won’t hear any talk like that,” Bo interjected. “Come on, little lady, it’s time for you to give me my birthday dance.”

  Tia looked down at the table, “Sorry Bo, but I don’t really feel…”

  “Nope. Won’t take no for an answer. Give her up Dylan; I need to talk some sense into this little thing.” He slid out of the booth and came around to the other side of the U, taking Tia’s hand in his, pulling her up to him and putting his arm around her shoulders. She looked back at Dylan, who shrugged. “Can’t argue with the birthday boy,” he said, raising his eyebrows.

  Tia felt deflated as Bo led her to the little dance floor. He wrapped his big arms around her and she sank into him, not quite trusting her own legs. Bo took her face in his huge hands, pulling her up to meet his dark eyes, which blazed with intensity. “Listen, little girl,” he said scolding her with his voice. “I heard what she said to you, and I watched your face literally fall off your head.”

  A single tear slid down her cheek, and he caught it with his fingertip, wiping it away. “It’s true, Bo. Everything she said. I don’t know what I’m doing here—I’m way out of his league.”

  “Hey now,” he soothed. “I’ve known Dylan for a long time, and I can tell you, he doesn’t have a league. He’s the most down to earth person I know, and believe me; he’s got it something bad for you.” He settled his hands on her hips and swayed with her to the music. “Have you heard the story about how he and I met?”

  “He told me tonight actually,” she answered, “while we were hiding out from Little Miss Hollywood.”

  “Well, I’ll bet his version and mine are a little bit different. Tell me, did he make me out to be the hero of the story? The one with all the talent who graciously allowed some skinny little white boy to play with his band?”

  Tia smiled a little, in spite of herself. “Yeah, it was something like that,” she said.

  “Well let me tell you the real story,” he said as Tia settled into the comfort of his bulk and they continued to sway to the music. “It was a Friday night, you see, and my band and I were sitting around a table in a little pub outside London after a gig—and I’m talking a very little pub way outside of London. He bought us a round and asked if he could join us, and started gushing about our performance—mine in particular; he said he’d never seen a drummer with such a huge stage presence.” He leaned down and whispered in her ear, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m kind of a big guy.”

  “The thought had crossed my mind,” she smiled in spite of herself, feeling her mood slightly lifted.

  “So anyway, he tells us he’s a fairly accomplished guitarist—that’s what he said, ‘fairly accomplished,’ and he says he would be honored if he could have the chance to jam with us. I look around at my boys, and they’re all smirking and shaking their heads, looking at this little punker boy with his messy, spiky hair and ripped jeans, but I figured, what the hell? We had a practice set up the next day at the pub we’d be playing that night, so we decided to humor him. We all figure that there’s no way this boy—he couldn’t have been more than twenty then—was going to be able to keep up with our bluesy sound, and guessed we’d jam for an hour or so and laugh about it later.

  “So he shows up with his guitar slung over his back and I say, ‘Show us what you got, Little Strummer Boy,’ much to the amusement of my boys. Dylan says, ‘You guys just go ahead and play, and I’ll jump in.’ We all smiled at each other, and pounded into a song. Dylan listens for about eight bars, eyes closed, nodding his head, and then dives in, perfectly matching the tempo and the sound. We all looked at each other, our eyes poppin’ out of our heads—we’d never thought that kind of sound could come from an acoustic guitar or blend so perfectly with what we were trying to do musically. It was like he could draw a mood out of his instrument, an actual emotion, an
d we were completely blown away.”

  “It was because of his mom, and her art studio,” Tia commented.

  “Exactly!” Bo agreed. “So after a couple more tunes, we were thoroughly impressed, and I asked him if he did vocals. And I tell you, when that boy opened his mouth and started to sing, I knew he was going to the top. Instantly. His voice—well, you know—it was honest, open, and he could weave the lyrics as well as he could the guitar.” Tia nodded—she knew exactly what he meant.

  “We asked him to join us on the stage that night, and from the look on his face, you woulda thought we’d invited him to the queen’s castle for tea. He honestly didn’t realize how good he was, and thought we were doing him a favor. But that night, on stage, he just took over the show—not intentionally, but just by being himself—and the audience loved it. He joined us for the rest of the tour, which was only four more shows; but by the end of that week, I knew I wanted to work with him again. Not only was he a great musician, but I liked him as a person too, and knew he’d be a great friend. I practically begged him to come back to the states, and left him with all my numbers and a promise that I could hook him up with a place to stay and some steady work if he did.”

  Tia settled into him and listened with interest—she knew so little about Dylan in his younger days, and loved hearing Bo talk about him with such admiration.

  “It was weeks before he called, but when he finally did, I managed to convince him to give it a shot. He slept on my couch for six months, working in a music store during the day, bartending in the early evenings and playing gigs at night. It was obvious to me who the talent was—hell, I like to think of myself as a pretty good beat man, but we all know that drummers don’t do solo tours—a good band needs a good front man. Dylan had it all—talent, good looks, charisma—but he was just humble enough not to fully realize it, which kept him honest. I knew I could go to the top with him. We even wanted to name the band for him;” he added, “we wanted to call it the Dylan Miller Experience, because being with him is an experience, and we all knew it would be him that took us all the way. But again, the man is humble. He shook it off, said it was just incidental happenstance that we all met the way we did, and the name just stuck.”