by DeSalvo, Kim
Something inside Angela stopped. Penelope’s voice was soft, but her face told an entirely different story; one in which only Penelope had a happy ending. Her eyes shifted between menace and what Angela could only describe as wistfulness, and she saw the danger in both. Angela clearly saw who Penelope was now. She was mean, dangerous, and more than a little off-balance. This thing with Dylan had become an obsession, she realized, and there would be no turning back. Angela had serious doubts that Dylan would want a romantic relationship with Penelope with or without Jessa and Tia in the picture. She’d heard Dylan talking to his girlfriend in hushed tones, heard him working on songs that were obviously about her, had seen how many pictures of the two of them he had scattered around his place, and she’d plainly seen how many letters he wrote her—fat ones with many pages and lots of pictures. He was in love with that girl. Angela had never officially met her, but had seen her in Chicago and London, and had seen the way she and Dylan looked at each other. On stage at Wembley there was an electricity between them that she could almost feel, even from the fourth row.
A sick feeling settled in the pit of her stomach as she fully realized the magnitude of her situation. The truth was, she didn’t really have a choice—her entire future depended on helping Penelope with her sick and selfish plan. She could never again show any hesitation or guilt, because she knew that if she did, it would be her throat that Penelope would be cutting. Forcing back the lump in her throat, she flashed Penelope an award-winning smile. “You’re right!” she said brightly. “You and Dylan make a great couple, you really do. I’m with you—all the way.”
“That’s the spirit!” Penelope confirmed, patting her on the back like a child. “Now we have to lay out the time frames for the next phase of our plan, because there’s a lot to do in a short amount of time, so listen carefully…”
While Angela listened, the actress absent-mindedly pulled a shoe box from a shelf in her bedroom and slipped out three photos. She watched with amazement as Penelope cut Tia’s face from them and replaced the empty spaces with her own images before carefully putting them into a photo album. Penelope then pulled out one of the letters that Angela had never posted, took some liquid paper from a drawer, erased Tia’s name, and penned in her own. She’d often wondered why Penelope had insisted that she be given all of Tia’s letters, and now she saw the truth. Her stomach rolled over on itself sickly as she watched Penelope casually press the letter onto another page of the album which was already nearly bursting from the binder. A shiver ran down her spine, and she had to work hard to keep a look of horror from showing on her face. She wanted out of here, but she couldn’t leave without her prize. There was no choice but to finish this off, get her career on track and then get the hell away from Penelope and not look back.
Once she left Penelope’s twisted fantasy world and returned to her own trailer, she lay restless in her bed, pondering whether she could go to Dylan and tell him the truth. Maybe he’d help her. She entertained that hope for almost a minute before realizing that it would never happen. Dylan valued trust very highly, and admitting her role in framing Jessa would also mean that she’d have to tell him that she hadn’t posted any of his letters in well over a week, and that all along she’d helped Penelope to steal pictures that were meant for Tia. She also had two of Tia’s letters to him that she’d never delivered hiding in a shoe box in her own trailer. He wouldn’t be able to forgive her, and she really couldn’t blame him. No, she didn’t have any other choice—she was already in too deep.
It was going to be a rough few days, that was certain, if they were going to get everything into place before Dylan returned. She had to suck it up, cut her losses, and think about herself for right now—her entire future depended on how well she played her current role.
By the next morning, she was determined to get it over with as quickly as possible. Luckily, Dylan had left his trailer unlocked when he took off to film the wilderness scenes, and she collected his laptop before driving into the city and taking it into the computer repair shop.
The disinterested young kid behind the counter never took his eyes off the video game he was playing when she walked in. “Can I help you?” he asked absently when he heard the little jingle of the bell above the door. His dark hair hung over his eyes, greasy and unkempt, and he didn’t look more than eighteen or nineteen years old. Aside from him, the shop was completely empty.
“I need a hacker,” Angela announced. “A discreet one who wants to earn a lot of money for a little bit of work.”
That got his full attention; the kid lay his controller down on the counter, forgetting the battle raging on the screen in front of him. He stood up and extended his hand. “I can help you with that,” he said confidently. “My name’s Steve. I’m the best, and I’m very discreet.”
“Glad to hear it, Steve,” Angela smiled, shaking his hand and placing the laptop on the counter.
She watched as his fingers flew over the keys, his tongue sticking out from the corner of his mouth as he stared at the screen with total concentration. It was a small matter to figure out the passwords needed, and a few mouse clicks on a particular email address was all it took to sever the communication superhighway. A new email address that would go straight to Penelope assured that she assumed control over said communication, and a tiny virus planted in an unassuming email held another little surprise. Less than an hour later, Angela walked out with everything she needed, and Steve became her new best friend. They would do more together, she assured him, much to his delight as he slipped a large bill into his pants pocket.
Her next stop was the cell phone shop, where they’d change Dylan’s number. “I need the sim card transferred so the stored numbers will be in the new phone,” she told the clerk.
“That’s not a problem,” he replied. “But can you pick it up tomorrow? I got a message from the States that you’d be coming by, but I have a few things I need to work out with their tech department before I can finish the job. It’s the middle of the night there, so I’ll have to get in touch with them later. You can come by say…any time after ten, and I’ll have everything set for you.”
“That’s fine,” she replied, leaving the store and heading back to The Village.
Penelope positively dreaded the thought of camping in the middle of nowhere; the idea of sleeping on a cot in a tent full of bugs and spiders sent shivers up her spine. But she needed an alibi so that she couldn’t be connected in any way to the events about to unfold if for any reason things didn’t go as planned. She knew that Dylan was the adventurous type and that he enjoyed the outdoors, so she figured it was just another thing she’d have to learn to like. She certainly wouldn’t get a better chance than this one to show him her newly invented adventurous spirit, so she had no choice but to take advantage of it. It was only a few days, after all. She could handle just about anything for that much time. Plus, Angela was going to sneak in and take a few shots—she had some ideas that she thought they could send to the tabloids back home to get the rumors flying in Hollywood. Dylan wouldn’t know about them—he absolutely refused to even acknowledge the magazines—and even if he did find out, he couldn’t accuse her of taking the pictures when she was in every single one of them. She packed a bag, put on her best face and climbed into the van that would take them out to the middle of nowhere. Dylan raised an eyebrow at her when she tossed her designer suitcase onto the seat behind her.
“What are you doing here?” he asked. “You’re not in any of these scenes.”
She smiled at him, hoping that the look on her face showed excitement rather than the apprehension she was feeling. “I know, but I just love camping!” she exclaimed. “I used to do it all the time when I was a kid, and I didn’t want to miss an opportunity to see the wilder side of New Zealand—who knows when I might make it back this way again?”
“Really,” Dylan mused, having a hard time picturing her as an outdoor kind of girl. “I find that hard to believe, actually.”
“Well, I guess there’s still a lot you don’t know about me, Mr. Miller,” she smiled slyly. “I’m just full of surprises.”
“I guess you are,” he smiled, “but this isn’t one of your Hollywood campgrounds, you know—it’s going to be awfully rustic on this trip—no amenities at all.”
“That’s the way I like it best,” she said, dreading the sound of his words. God, she hoped she didn’t have to shit in the woods—that would really put her acting skills to the test. “Besides, it’ll be good for me to see these scenes—it’ll help me be in the right frame of mind when you return to me and we rediscover our love for each other. Stan thought it was a good idea,” she added.
Dylan had been looking forward to a few days without her hanging around, but part of him couldn’t help but be amused by the thought of her camping out. It could actually be quite entertaining. “OK then,” he said, “I guess we’re all going camping!” A few more people climbed into the van, greeting Dylan and looking at Penelope with amused faces.
“What?” she said, laughing. “I love camping!”
Dylan shared a knowing look with one of the crew members, and the caravan of vehicles began its journey.
It bothered Penelope a lot that Dylan hadn’t yet shown any sign of returning her affection. He was always kind and considerate toward her, but he was pretty much that way with everyone. It was already November, and she’d hoped that by now he would have broken up with Tia on his own and made his way into her bed. Although she made sure to grab the seat next to his on the van, he laughed and joked with Bruce, his character’s kidnapper, and the camera crew, and barely paid her any attention at all. When she lightly rested her hand on his knee, he gently but firmly removed it and went back to his conversation without so much as a glance in her direction. She had hoped that the plans that were already in motion wouldn’t be necessary—there were a lot of facets and more margin for error than she was comfortable with.
Angela should be taking care of one of the major components right now, she thought, looking at her watch as the desolate wilderness slid by outside her window. She’d be driving out to meet her at the site later in the day, provided she could get everything done. Between worrying about that and dreading the isolation of the next couple days, it was all Penelope could do to maintain her enthusiastic attitude.
The trick for Angela was getting the right shot. It had to have Penelope and Dylan involved in some sort of intimate embrace, and since Penelope wasn’t actually in any of the scenes, she didn’t have a lot of contact with him. The two girls shared a small tent, and they went through the pictures she’d taken that day without finding anything tabloid-worthy. The next day, however, they filmed a scene where Dylan, after having escaped from his kidnappers, struggled his way across a river, crawling out exhausted on the other side. Penelope watched the scene unfold from a lounge chair in her tiny bikini, distracting the hell out of some of the camera guys but getting no reaction from Dylan whatsoever. She couldn’t take her eyes off him as he played out the scenario.
God, he was incredibly sexy emerging from the water at the end of the scene, shirtless with a grizzled beard and his long hair plastered in soft waves around his face. His jeans clung to him deliciously, and he glistened in the afternoon sun, little rivulets of water making their way slowly down his muscled chest to disappear beneath his waistband. The water was freezing, Dylan said, but the air was unusually warm for late spring, and once the director called the final cut of the day, the crew decided to take a swim. Penelope eagerly joined them, while Angela decided instead to take a walk and “look for some wildlife.” As planned, Penelope watched for the signal that she was in place—a little glint of a mirror reflecting the sun, and then she howled in pain, neck deep in the frigid water.
“What’s wrong?” Dylan asked, making his way over to her while she choked on water and gasped for air.
“Ow!” she cried. “I stepped on something—I think I sprained my ankle!” She hopped on one foot, and then howled again. “Oh shit—the other one!” Her face slid under the water, and she pulled the string on her bikini top, pushing it to the bottom and placing a rock on top of it to keep it there.
Dylan was there in a moment, pulling her up. “Hey!” he yelled once her head broke the surface. “Are you OK?”
“I don’t know,” she rasped, coughing. “I don’t think I can walk. I think it might be broken!”
Dylan grumbled, but he put his arm under her legs and swung her up, carrying her toward the shore. Penelope rested her head against his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her bare breasts against him. “Ow, ow, ow,” she moaned. “I’m sorry— my foot got jammed between some rocks and…ow!”
“Yeah, and you somehow managed to lose your top, too, I see,” Dylan said suspiciously. “It’s going to be fine, don’t worry,” he added, calling for someone to get a towel to cover her. As he made his way out of the water with Penelope in his arms, Angela began taking shot after shot from behind a clump of bushes a good distance away. No one noticed her as they ran to help Penelope into a chair to tend to her ‘injury.’ Supposedly hearing the commotion, Angela ran over to see about her boss, and although they could see no visible signs of swelling, it was determined that Angela should take Penelope back to The Village to be examined more thoroughly. That suited Penelope just fine—one night in a tent was more than enough for her, plus she could see to some final details before Dylan returned. They pulled off the road once they got out of sight and checked out the photos Angela had taken, smiling in agreement. Steve, Angela’s new best friend and computer geek extraordinaire, could definitely do something with these shots, they were sure of it.
Chapter 31
The email came on a Wednesday morning, Tia’s longest day of the week. She had no breaks from the kids, no specials, barely any time to use the freaking bathroom. She checked her mail every morning, a habit she’d gotten into since she and Dylan were in two completely different time zones. She sat at her kitchen table with her coffee and smiled when she saw his name in her inbox, but then stared at the screen while her coffee went cold, unable to believe what she was reading.
Tia, This is incredibly hard for me to say. The last thing I ever wanted to do was to hurt you. Believe me, it was never my intention. I know you’ve been through hell, and I never wanted to be the cause of any more pain for you. You’ll always have a special place in my heart, and the time we spent together will always be full of good memories for me. But I’ve realized, now that we’re apart, that things could just never work out between us. We’re too different; our lives are too different. I never thought I’d say this, but it’s time for us to move on. I’m with Penelope now, and even though I never dreamed it was possible, she understands me like no one else ever could. She lives the same life I do, and knows the demons I face. I wish you nothing but the best in the future, and I’m sorry that I can’t be a part of it with you. But we both have to face the reality of our situation, and admit that in the long run, we would have hurt each other even more if we tried to force something that could just never be. I am so sorry, and will never forget you. I think it’s best that we make a clean break—I’ve changed my number and email so we can both move on more easily. You are a great person, and I know you’ll find someone who will make you happy—happier than I could ever make you. I wish you all the best, Dylan.
“Oh my God!” she breathed. “Dylan, no!” she whispered to her empty kitchen as tears burned in her eyes. “I don’t get it!” she said aloud. “Why?” She couldn’t take her eyes off the screen, reading the words over and over and trying to make sense of them as her tears spilled down her cheeks. But no matter how many times she read them, they didn’t make a damn bit of sense. She’d just talked to him a week ago, and everything was fine—he’d told her he loved her and that Jessa was working on her tickets to go see him. Now she’d never see him again? How could everything have changed since then? How could he say that she would be happier with someone else?
And maybe worst of all, how could he possibly be with that horrible conniving woman? How could Penelope have won him over? A million thoughts ran through her head, each more horrible than the last, and she was completely overwhelmed by her emotions.
She felt sick suddenly, and ran into the bathroom to throw up. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror; puffy red eyes, blotchy cheeks, mascara streaked down her face. God, she had to pull herself together and go to work—how in the world was she going to get through the day?
She fixed her face the best she could and sat back at the table. This couldn’t be—it just couldn’t. She picked up her phone and dialed his number, her heart breaking when she heard the recorded voice telling her that the number had been changed. She fell into a kitchen chair and immediately responded to the email.
Dylan, I don’t understand! The last time we talked, we were discussing our plans for the holidays and you said you couldn’t wait to see me and that you loved me, and suddenly we’re through? Just like that? Please, just call me so we can talk. I need you to explain what’s going on, how you went from loving me to dumping me with an email, for God’s sake! I love you so much! We knew there would be challenges in our relationship with your job, but I thought we had it worked out—you know I’d do anything for you, just please call me. Please! Tia
