Incidental Happenstance

by DeSalvo, Kim

  Penelope took the opportunity to jump from her seat and throw her arms around him in an embrace from behind the bench. It would be good for these people to start seeing them as a couple, she thought, and she didn’t like the way a lot of the girls were looking at Dylan, as if he were a mouse to their hungry cats. God knew he’d already fallen for a school teacher, so she wasn’t taking any chances. Better stake her territory, she decided. Dylan just stood up casually and out of her embrace without acknowledging her and walked back to the cart, much to the audible disappointment of the group. They wanted more, it was obvious.

  He turned back, grabbed another beer from the cooler, and faced the group, who were collectively watching him. “I said I’d bring the beer next time, and I meant it,” he said. “I’ll see you next Friday night right back here. But for now,” he said, stretching his arms over his head, “I’m beat, and I’ve got an early shoot tomorrow.” He climbed back into the cart, hoping Penelope would decide to stay, but she immediately jumped in beside him. She gushed over him all the way back, and he found himself wishing he had a faster cart.

  Chapter 28

  Tia woke up on Sunday full of anticipation. It was late October, and fall had painted the trees in dozens of beautiful colors. She sat on her patio with her coffee, wearing jeans and a sweatshirt to ward off the chill and watching the leaves drift lazily to the ground. The robins and hummingbirds had left, and the first of the dark-eyed juncos were just starting to arrive. She savored the bite in the air—she couldn’t ever remember wanting winter to arrive, but now she couldn’t wait for the first flakes of snow to start flying. Better still, she had flipped over three months on her calendar since she’d arrived home, and just two more flips would take her to the month when she’d see Dylan again. She was expecting a call from him, and he had a free day; so they could have a real conversation without interruptions.

  “I miss you, baby,” he said. “It’s eight in the morning here—what time is it there?”

  “Two in the afternoon—yesterday,” she said. She had the time difference down now and no longer had to count the hours that separated them.

  “I just crossed your today off on my calendar,” he said. “This month’s almost done. You doing OK?” he asked.

  “Oh, Dylan, it’s so much harder than I thought it would be. And I pretty much thought it would be impossible.”

  “Just another six weeks,” he said. “And then we’ll be together again. I have Jessa working on your tickets as we speak. I should have my days locked in by the end of the week, but it looks like I’ll be home by the time you start your break, so she’ll start looking for flights that match up,” he said. “I want every minute I can get with you.”

  “I’ll feel so much better when I have it my hand,” she said. “Then at least I’ll know it’s real and that I’ll see you again.”

  “You know I can’t wait to see you either. Oh hey, before I forget,” he added, “Bo said to tell you he’s coming through Chicago next weekend. He wants to know if you want to do dinner with him.”

  “I’d love it!” she said. “It’d be great to see him!”

  “I’ll let him know and get back to you with the details. I think he said something about inviting Lexi too. I wish it was me meeting you though, I’m already jealous.”

  “I wish it was you, too. I always do.”

  They spent the next hour chatting about little things and remembering parts of their summer. Tia grilled him about his parents and the rest of his family, so she could be at least somewhat prepared. “They’ll love you, don’t worry,” he said sincerely. “Even if I didn’t love you, they still would; but I do, so I know they will too.”

  “I just can’t wait to see you,” she said.

  “Expect the tickets in the next few weeks or so. I still haven’t figured out how the mail works from here. What letter did you get last?”

  “Copenhagen,” she answered. “I love that you send pictures with every letter. It helps me relive the summer all over again, and they bring such good memories.”

  “I’ve already sent Stockholm and Oslo, so they should arrive soon.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  “I love getting your letters too. They’re the highlight of my day every time I get one. Don’t stop sending them, OK?”

  “No way,” she said.

  “I miss you my love,” he whispered. “I’ve written two more songs for you—I can’t wait to play them for you at Christmas.”

  “I love you,” she whispered. “I can’t wait to hear them.”

  ***

  Angela Barker was nothing but a fame hog, and she would do pretty much anything to get ahead. She was a competent assistant, but what she really wanted was to be a star, and Penelope knew she could use that to her advantage. God knew she’d stepped on enough toes and used a few people to get ahead, and she saw in Angela some of that same relentless drive she’d had when she was starting out. All Penelope had to do was dangle the right carrot, and in the end all it took was a promise to get her some auditions, and she was fully on board with the plan. It made it easier that Angela didn’t really know Tia and that Dylan would never know just how he’d been played. She spent the good part of an evening laying it out for her, and explaining the role Angela would play.

  “You know how celebrities are Angela, you’re practically one of them,” she confided, happy to see the gleam in her assistant’s eyes when she heard the compliment. “We walk a different line than normal people, and no one else can really understand us, am I right?”

  “Absolutely!” she agreed. “It’s a completely different kind of life, and not everyone can handle it.”

  “Yes!” Penelope exclaimed. “You’re going to survive it though, because you’ve got what it takes.”

  “You really think so?” Angela asked hopefully.

  “Without a doubt,” Penelope said with a wink. “I wouldn’t agree to support your career if I didn’t.”

  “And you’d help me get auditions? Real ones, for decent parts?”

  “Honey, if you play this part right, and Dylan and I end up together, I will guarantee you at least a supporting role in a major production.”

  Penelope watched as Angela rolled the promise around in her head. She kept her face open, warm, and interested, and smiled to herself as the corners of Angela’s lips turned upward in a sly smile.

  “I mean, it’s not like I’m hurting anyone, really, right?” she said, convincing herself.

  “Well, let’s be realistic,” Penelope said. “I want you to go into this with a clear head and a clear conscience.” She leaned over and poured Angela another glass of wine. Just two girls sharing a secret over a bottle of chardonnay, she thought ruefully. “We have to look at the big picture here.”

  Angela took a sip of the wine and looked at Penelope. She could be a real bitch sometimes, but she was big in Hollywood and she definitely knew how to get what she wanted. And if she wanted to help Angela along in her own acting career, it would happen. This movie would be good and Penelope would get a lot of the credit for that—she was a damn good actress. She had clout in the industry, and knew all the right people. A few months down the road, Angela could be looking at her own name in lights and she just knew that once she was out there, she’d hit it big. It was that first chance that was the hardest to come by, and Penelope could hand it to her on a silver platter. That was her big picture, and she liked the way it looked.

  Penelope continued. “At first they’re both going to be hurt, Angela, you have to be prepared for that. Dylan really thinks he’s got a future with this girl, and he’s not going to take a break-up easily.” A shadow crossed Angela’s face, and Penelope acted quickly to diffuse it. “But,” she said pointedly, “we both know it’s only a matter of time for them. Look at the track records of other celebrities who try to make it with average people. It just doesn’t work. There isn’t any way to make those two worlds come together. They’re going to be hurt anyway, and probably more so afte
r they’ve invested even more time and energy into each other.”

  Angela considered this. “Especially since he’s in a band, too,” she added. “He’ll be away on tour all the time, and that makes it even harder.”

  “Exactly,” Penelope agreed. “Plus, I really like Dylan, and I could make him really happy. I want to make him happy. I understand him and the world we both live in. He makes me want to be a better person—I’m really falling for him, Angie, and I just know we’d be so good together. This is my shot, while we’re far from Hollywood, to really get to know each other. But it won’t happen until he can see the possibility of us, and once he does, I’ll make sure he’s happier than she could ever make him.”

  There were still a few unsettling feelings rolling around in Angela’s mind, but the prize was too good to pass up. She’d seen the way Penelope looked at Dylan, and she was certainly being a nicer person lately. He’d been good for her so far, and who knew? Maybe they could make it. “OK, I’m in,” she said.

  “Do you want to take some time to think about it, Angie?” Penelope coaxed. “If you do this with me, we do it all the way. I don’t want you coming to me halfway through with a change of heart or a guilt trip—because that would mean all bets were off. If you betrayed me, I’d have to seriously reconsider my role in making or breaking your career, so you need to be absolutely sure that you can see it all the way to the finish.”

  There was little doubt in Angela’s mind about how Penelope would deal with a failure to deliver. She’d added the little part about breaking her career for a reason, and Angela knew that she’d pursue that with even more vigor than she would in making it. She realized that just hearing about the plan put her in jeopardy—if she backed out now, she’d certainly be out of a job; Penelope wouldn’t trust her not to fill Dylan in on the details. She’d be finished before she even started.

  “I don’t need to think about it at all, Penelope,” she said, already playing the part. “It’s the right thing to do, and I’m in one hundred percent.”

  “Excellent,” Penelope smiled, and she began laying out the script.

  The next day, Angela stepped into the camera shop in town and looked around. There were so many models to choose from, and she really didn’t know squat about photography; her ultimate goal had always been to be in front of the camera, not behind it.

  “Can I help you?” asked a voice from behind her.

  “Hi, yes, I’m looking for a digital camera, but I confess I don’t know a lot about them,” she told the older gentleman who stepped up to help her. “I know that I need one that can take high quality distance shots, though, and one that’s pretty simple to use.”

  “I can certainly help you with that,” he answered kindly. “I have a few very good models,” he said, pulling a few cameras out of their display cases and laying them on the counter. “Now you probably want at least twelve megapixels if you’re doing a lot of long distance shots, and depending on what you’re shooting, you may want to add on a telephoto lens. You’ll definitely want HD video, and a good variety of photo settings…”

  “Mmm hmm,” Angela murmured, absently picking up one of the cameras and turning it over in her hand. She shrugged, showing him that he’d already lost her.

  “Let’s simplify things a bit,” he smiled, “can you give me an idea of what you’ll be shooting?”

  “Birds, mostly,” she answered, “and I really want to get nice clear shots. I’ll be up in the mountains though, hiking, so I need it to be something that’s durable and easy to carry—and easy to use,” she added again, “I’m kind of a novice.”

  “Can you give me an idea of how much you want to spend?” he asked. “That can help narrow things down a lot.”

  “I just want the best there is,” she replied, “I don’t care how much it costs.”

  The old man smiled, showing a few gaps in his teeth. “I’ve got just the thing for you then,” he said, reaching into the display again and bringing up a small, compact camera. “This one takes really excellent shots by itself, and has a better than average zoom. You can add on a telephoto lens when you really need the distance. It’s got a lot of preset photo settings, so it’s simple to use. I can run you through the basics, if you have a little bit of time, and you’ll be a pro in no time.”

  “Perfect,” she smiled, pulling out her wallet. “I’ll take it.”

  The next step was for her to befriend Jessa, and to gain her trust. Since there were so few people on their spoke of the wheel, and Dylan and Penelope were working so closely together, it made sense for the two assistants to be friends. At Penelope’s prodding, the girls worked out a kind of rhythm—they’d go into town together to run errands, schedule joint interviews around the filming schedule, and work together around The Village, scheduling hair, make-up and costume fittings. Penelope encouraged the girls to take some leisure time together, and they started spending their weekend evenings together at The Hub with the rest of the crew.

  Angela was working out better than Penelope had hoped—she’d managed to become the postal worker of the group, and when they went into town, Jessa would go off to collect dry cleaning or groceries while Angela visited the post office. There was almost always a letter for Tia to mail, but Angela was always one letter behind. Once the girls parted ways, she’d slip the new letter into her pocket and remove the one from the previous trip—the one Penelope had already read and from which she’d stolen a picture or two for her collection.

  Penelope’s photo album was starting to fill up. She had pictures of her and Dylan in Prague, Vienna, Geneva, Munich, Berlin, Copenhagen and Stockholm. Mostly she took just one, but sometimes it was too hard to choose and she ended up with two or three. The teacher would never know the difference. It should have been her on that tour with Dylan anyway, not some two bit commoner who had no business being with someone like him. Angela was getting to be quite the photographer, as well, and Penelope had printed a number of pictures of her and Dylan from scenes they had filmed. Cameras weren’t really allowed on the set, of course—the studio had their own photographers and sent out only what they felt would drum up public interest, but Angela had ‘befriended’ one of the security guards from the crew and he often looked the other way. She was also getting better at using the telephoto lens, and was often able to tuck herself away in little places where she wouldn’t be seen while she shot. They’d already “leaked” a few preliminary photos to the tabloids, to set the stage. When Penelope was ready to move to the next and most crucial part of her plan, Angela would be ready.

  Dylan had really taken to hanging out at The Hub on weekends. The Villagers were finally accepting him as one of them; although they still treated him with reverence—making sure he had a seat close to the fire, always having his favorite beer in the coolers, saving him a steak or burger when he arrived late. He figured that those things were a small price to pay for some normalcy in his life, and for evenings that involved someone else besides Penelope. She attended with him most nights, but he noticed more and more that she was starting to befriend others from The Village, and he was glad. She really did seem to be changing for the better—instead of looking down her nose at the crew, she smiled and joked with them, bringing dishes to share at the pot luck and trading recipes with some of the other girls. She even accepted an invitation to take a little shopping trip into Auckland, something he couldn’t have imagined her doing a month ago.

  The change was making her easier to be with—she just seemed lighter and more carefree—and they fell into a more easy friendship, although Dylan was always still a bit wary. He tried to be nice without being too nice, always feeling like he was walking a line with her. There was just still something about her that he didn’t trust, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was.

  At first, Penelope was put out that Dylan wanted to spend his weekends at The Hub, instead of with her. Reluctantly, she went, but she tried to hang close to Dylan and avoid contact with the other people there. Reall
y, she thought, why would a star of her caliber want to hang out with a bunch of stage hands and costume designers? But when she started noticing Dylan’s looks of disappointment when she refused to interact, she figured she’d better change her tune. He really seemed to enjoy hanging out with people, and never put himself above them. He laughed and joked, played guitar, shared the grilling and cleaning duties, and tried to be one of the gang. If she was going to be the perfect match for him, she’d have to learn to be friendlier to people too.

  It was hard at first—having conversation with strangers didn’t come naturally for her, but she slowly realized that she did have something in common with these people; that being the industry. She chatted about films she’d worked on and listened as they did the same. They dished about stars they’d worked with, and she found that they were pretty perceptive about what was going on behind the scenes. The more time she spent there the more comfortable she felt, and she began looking forward to meeting people who were honestly interested in her. She’d never had a lot of girlfriends, and she found herself actually enjoying hanging with a group of girls, talking about everyday things like clothes, travels and recipes. Some nights, she’d go an hour without searching Dylan out in the crowd. One of her favorite things, however, was the change in the way Dylan looked at her. Instead of the disappointed scowl he usually wore when he glanced over, she started to see him smile. She was making him happy, and that made her happy.

  The thing was—the more time she spent with him, the more she really liked Dylan. He was so real, so different than the guys she usually dated. He found obvious pleasure in making people happy, whether it was pulling up to The Hub with a cart full of beer, ordering pizzas for the entire group, giving Gary guitar lessons in front of his trailer, or performing around the bonfire. He never sought credit for what he did; he was just being nice. He was the kind of person that you didn’t have to try hard with; conversation came naturally, he had a great sense of humor, and he was one hundred percent man. Without even trying he was sexy, masculine, and completely unconcerned with the incredible good looks he’d come by naturally, which just made him even more appealing. The more time she spent around him, the more she really wanted him to be hers for all the right reasons. It was easy to imagine spending her life with him—hell, she’d even move out to Colorado if that’s what he wanted. She was beginning to see how shallow her Hollywood life was, and she could actually feel herself changing into a different person—the kind of person that he could love.