Home Sweet Home

by Melanie Shawn

  Between the next set of takes, he took a deep breath and said, quietly, “Lauren, I think we just need to be a little friendlier with each other. A little nicer.”

  “Are you implying I'm not friendly enough for you?” she asked icily.

  Oh, great. The cold tone was back. That wasn't going to be simple to thaw, he knew this from experience.

  "I'm just saying,” he said slowly, attempting to be patient and not let his frustration get the better of him, “you can catch more flies with honey than you can with vinegar."

  "Hmmm. Interesting,” Lauren replied flatly, “You do realize that, in the scenario you just laid out, YOU are the insect, correct?"

  Paul walked up to them just at that instant. “So I see the honeymoon's over, huh?” he said, tension evident in his face and voice, but clearly attempting to make light of the situation in an effort not to bring it to a head.

  Lauren and Ben stared at him, neither one of them willing to be the first one to call a truce by cracking a smile, thereby making light of the situation.

  After a moment of silence which was thick with tension, Paul said uncomfortably, “OK, then, if that's how we want to do it. I'll just be clear and direct. To be honest with both of you, your dynamic this morning has been for shit. I need you to relax. Remember last week? When it was awesome? Think we could harness a little bit of that lightning in a bottle?”

  Ben and Lauren just stared at him. Ben wasn't sure what Lauren was thinking or feeling, but he, for one, was scared shitless. This was not a talk you wanted to have with your director, not if you wanted to keep your job.

  This was the first time in his career, in either of his careers really, that he had been in a situation where he had sternly told himself to get his head in the game, get his shit together, get a hold of himself – and had not been able to do it.

  That fact – and the new trend in his life that it might possibly be heralding the beginning of – was a hell of lot scarier than the mere prospect of this particular pilot not being picked up, or even of losing his main gig at Home Sweet Home.

  I mean, Ben thought, if you follow this train of thought out to its logical conclusion, this could be an indication that I am losing my touch. If I can't transition into professional mode at a moment’s notice, regardless of what stresses are weighing on me or what else might be going on in my life, then it's over. Stick a fork in me, I'm done.

  Determined not to let that happen, determined to prove to both Paul and himself that this was just a bad morning and he could, in fact, pull it out, he said with renewed determination, “Absolutely, Paul. You got it. I can adjust, I'm a professional.”

  Even without looking at her standing next to him, he felt Lauren bristle. He didn't need to be looking at her to feel her annoyed gaze as she cut her eyes sideways at him.

  “That's a yes for me as well Paul,” Lauren said, her voice as smooth as a baby's bottom, “I am certainly a professional, as well.”

  Ben sighed inwardly, kicking himself. Well, of course she had taken that statement personally, he didn't even blame her on that count. He certainly hadn't thought about how it would sound before it came out of his mouth, particularly from her perspective. He was so worried about his life and his career and what this disastrous morning meant in the scope of both of those things, he hadn't thought about her feelings or the implications that this morning might have for her.

  He wanted to pull her aside, to look into her eyes, to talk to her honestly, to lay all his cards on the table and at least see what kind of reaction that might get, because this passive aggressive routine was doing nothing for him. It wasn't the way he liked to operate, it wasn't who he really was. As with so many things in his life since he had met Lauren, though, it was a steam train that was moving forward under its own powerful momentum and he felt utterly powerless to stop it.

  Anyway, that conversation wasn't something that could happen at this instant, Paul was about to call Action again, and then he and Lauren would be working. They had to focus on the professional now, they could deal with the personal later.

  But he did want to deal with it. He hated the cold shoulder. He didn't like giving it, and it was driving him nearly insane to receive it.

  And the worst part was that he was still overcome with almost irresistible lust every time he stood within close proximity to her – which was all day long. The ups and downs that he had experienced since meeting this woman were unprecedented.

  But, he did feel like if he could get a demonstrated hold on his professional abilities, that was an excellent first step toward getting back in control of his entire life, his relationship with Lauren Harrison included.

  The rest of the shooting day progressed well. It was no comparison to the brilliance that they had experienced the week before. He and Lauren were not vibing and showing the camera a magical, clicking chemistry as they had been in Aspen, but they were doing a good job. Their reading today came across as warm and engaging, and they related to each other with a professional respect that read onscreen.

  When the long day finally came to a close, Ben gathered up his things and walked out to the front of the house to climb in the town car that production had provided to bring he and Lauren back and forth to the set.

  To his surprise, it was nowhere to be seen, and neither was Lauren.

  Well, of course, he thought to himself sarcastically. Perfect end to a perfect day.

  He went back inside the house where the crew was still striking the equipment and grab the first PA he saw.

  “Got any idea where my car is?” he asked, doing his best to keep the tension and sarcasm out of his voice. After all, it wasn't this poor kid's fault that Lauren had decided to take off in the car.

  “Sure, one second, let me check,” said the PA, and then turned and stepped away a few feet to speak into his headset mic. In just a moment, he walked back over with a regretful look on his face.

  “Sorry, Mr. Stevens,” the young man said, nervousness showing through the polite and respectful tone that he was delivering the bad news in, “but I guess Ms. Harrison took the town car back to the hotel, and asked if we would call you a taxi when you were ready to go. Should I call that for you now?”

  Ben nodded, not trusting his voice, sure that it would betray the anger and despair that he felt within. He didn't want to take it out on some poor PA who had nothing to do with him being stranded.

  Damn. He'd love to know what exactly was going through her head.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Lauren stepped out of the shower, relieved to have washed the day off. And oh what a doozy of a day it had been!

  All day long, standing two feet away from Ben, having to repress her feelings, him acting like an ass, her acting like a bitch (because, yes, she was self-aware enough to recognize it even if she hadn't figured out a way to stop it yet). Both of them behaving so badly that their job performance suffered.

  Yeah. Not exactly a banner day in the Life and Career of Lauren Harrison.

  When the shoot was finished, she just couldn't stand being there even a moment longer. As she stood by the town car, miserable, waiting for Ben to finally emerge, one of the PAs had kindly offered to arrange a taxi for Ben to take when he was ready to go, since it was clear that their schedules weren't aligning.

  She had been tempted to weep in relief and gratitude.

  Right then, the prospect of a blissfully solo car ride back to the hotel sounded, to her, like it would have the equivalent restorative powers of a week in the Bahamas.

  And it had been lovely, riding in the smooth, air-conditioned silence across the orange-gold desert plains at sunset. It felt mystical, healing, and Lauren sensed the calming influence of the harshly beautiful desert landscape working on her soul.

  Building on that momentum, Lauren had, immediately upon entering her hotel room, called upon her other dependable ally in the war against emotional chaos – a good, long, hot shower.

  In Lauren's experience, it was nearly impos
sible not to feel like a whole new person after a long, hot, cleansing shower.

  Lauren sat on her bed afterward, her hair brushed out, and donned her most casual attire – designer jeans and a soft cotton-blend t-shirt – so that she could go out and get something to eat.

  Ah, yes, she thought affectionately. The return-to-mental-stability trifecta: a moment of solitude, a long shower, and a hot meal. Never fails.

  As she stepped out of her room to head for the elevators, she heard a spat of giggling from down the hall. She turned her head automatically toward the sound, and then stood there frozen at what she saw.

  Ben. And a girl. Going into his room.

  And they both looked VERY happy to be doing so.

  The girl was young, college-aged Lauren would guess, and although Lauren couldn't see her face, she could see that she had long, coltish, California-tanned legs and shiny and voluminous wavy chestnut hair.

  Lauren could tell by the easy grace and confidence with which the girl carried herself, her effortlessly radiant manner, that she was a stunner. Lauren had that 'pretty girl' confidence, and she recognized it in other women. This girl had it.

  Lauren felt like she'd been punched in the gut.

  Even after Ben's door closed, she stood stock still for a moment, frozen.

  Then, anger began to bubble up inside of her. Anger at the nerve of him. Anger at his insensitivity. Anger at him, if truth be told, for simply not feeling as strongly about her as she felt about him.

  She let that anger simmer and build, encouraged it even, because it felt so much better than the alternative – searing, gut-shot pain.

  Her first instinct was to knock on Ben's door, burst in on the happy couple, and give that snake a piece of her mind. Seriously wouldn't THAT feel good?

  Even in her heightened emotional state, however, she recognized the lunacy of that plan. It would be ridiculous. Sure, she may have strong feelings for the guy, but that didn't mean that he belonged to her. She had no claim on him. He owed her no explanations. They weren't in a relationship, and she shouldn't care who was going into his room.

  But she did. Oh, yes. Should or should not had nothing to do with it. It didn't matter if it was any of her business, the fact was that she very much cared what leggy, young brunettes were going into Ben Stevens' room.

  She needed to get over it.

  No, she realized suddenly, what she needed was a reality check. And there was only one person who could be relied on to dole them out with dependable sharp-eyed clarity.

  Lauren opened the door to her room and stepped back inside, pulling her phone out of her bag as she did this. She hit the button for her phone book app and pressed the photo of the girl sticking her tongue out at the camera.

  When Karina answered, Lauren said, “OK, Confucius, I think I need a little more of your wisdom.”

  Karina listened raptly as Lauren told her all about how Ben had been treating her that week. Lauren left nothing out, from the production meeting, to the ADR session, to the trip to Palm Springs, to the shoot, to how he had been either completely ignoring her or aiming little pointed jabs, trying to bait her into a fight.

  “And the worst part, Kar – the absolute cherry on top of the crap sundae – is that, not even ten minutes ago, I saw him take some wide-eyed, giggling college girl right into his room, bold as you please!”

  There was silence on the other end of the line. Lauren wondered if the call had dropped.

  “Karina? You still there?”

  “I'm here, sorry,” Karina answered, “Just processing. So, I have a couple of questions.”

  “Shoot.”

  “First of all – have you asked him what's going on?”

  “No! God, he's in with her right now, I'm not going to just knock on the door and burst in there!” Lauren said indignantly, leaving out the part where she had considered doing exactly that.

  “Not about the girl, you goof ball. About all of it. About the sudden 180 in tone.”

  “Well...no. I mean, I'm not going to get down on my knees and beg him to treat me with common courtesy.”

  “Yes. Of course, you're right, Lauren. That's exactly what I suggested. It's uncanny how you can read my subtext. When I wondered if you had asked him what was going on, of course what I meant was that you should prostrate yourself in front of him and beg for basic human kindness. Bravo on your between-the-lines-reading ability.”

  Lauren sighed, “Point taken. So, no, in answer to your question. I haven't asked him what's going on.”

  “OK, well, since we don't have his input, then we're gonna have to do a little Matlock on the situation.”

  “A little what?”

  “Matlock. You know. We're gonna have to do some detective work.”

  “Matlock was a lawyer.”

  “He also detected things. Oh my God, you are the worst person to have a relationship talk with, ever. Either you're picking apart my pop culture references or I'm having to strain to hear you while you whisper over running water. If this is what I'd be dealing with, I'm rethinking starting that advice column. How about Columbo? Rockford? Father Dowling? Do those television detectives meet with your approval?”

  “Um...I feel like, if those are the references that immediately spring to mind for you, perhaps you spent far too much time watching television with your Grandmother growing up.”

  Karina snorted, “Play me in Pop Culture Trivial Pursuit sometime and we'll see who's laughing then.”

  “Touché. Now back to my situation?”

  “OK, so when was the last conversation you had when he was being completely nice?” Karina asked in a tone of voice which implied that she might be taking notes.

  “Let's see. I guess...it was when we were driving home from the airport, coming back from Aspen.”

  “OK. And what was that conversation about?”

  “Well, he was being sweet, actually. Really sweet. In fact, he even asked me to go to the Policeman’s Ball with him.”

  “Uh-huh. So what did you say?”

  “Well, I told him that I already had plans to go with a friend.”

  “What?! Oh my God. Binzer!”

  “What? What's a Binzer?”

  “Binzer...you know. He was Dan Tanna's sidekick on Vegas. He was always saying dumbass things. Kind of like telling a hot guy you just slept with that you already had a date to a formal function he invites you to? You know. Dumbass things like that.”

  “Oh, OK, so we're still doing the television detective thing, then? Awesome,” Lauren said dryly.

  “It is awesome,” Karina replied, “When I begin a thread of pop culture allusions, I like to follow it through the conversation. So, listen up, lady. If you want to be promoted up in the hierarchy of 'Sidekicks to Fictional Detectives Played by Robert Urich' from Binzer to the FAR superior Hawk? You're gonna need to get your head in the game.”

  Lauren sighed, “I don't know what you think I should have done. I had already told Eric I would go with him.”

  Karina sighed, her tone growing more serious, “Look, babe. You know I am 100% Team Lauren, right? Let's just start off with that, right from the jump.

  “But, you've gotta realize – you hook up with this guy, then he asks you to go to a very public event with him, and you blow him off, telling him you were already going with 'a friend.' You don't mention that said 'friend' is a gorgeous guy. You then end up sucking face with said gorgeous guy in front of, not only Ben, but also the whole town.

  “Then you show up to work Monday and are actually surprised that Ben is giving you the cold shoulder? Come on, Lauren. You aren’t that naïve.”

  Lauren was completely taken aback by this recitation, and said in a small voice, “People saw Eric kiss me?”

  “Yep. But, more to the point, they saw you kiss Eric right back.”

  Lauren said defensively, “Well, it’s just…I wanted to give it the…you know, the old college try. I ‘should’ like Eric. On paper, he's perfect for me. He was my first, he i
s HOT, and he’s a really nice guy. He's exactly the sort of person I should end up with.

  “But there was nothing between us when we kissed. Nada. No sparks, no chemistry, nothing, zilch.”

  “OK. Perfectly reasonable. Makes sense to me. Probably because, you know...I've now heard you say it. Have you explained this to Ben?”

  “No,” snapped Lauren, her defenses rising back up, “I don’t owe him an explanation.”

  “Hmm, true. Kind of like he doesn’t owe you an explanation for a girl being in his room. Right?”

  Lauren was quiet. She knew Karina was right, but she didn't want to admit it.

  Into the silence, Karina said, “Look, if you don't want to talk to him, how about just showing up at his door in nothing but a coat and then flashing him?”

  “Oh my God, I'd never do that!” Lauren protested.

  Karina sighed, “Seriously, between you and Sam with her overly complicated plans to seduce Luke a couple of months ago, I really think you guys have somehow missed the memo on the power of female nakedness.”

  Lauren laughed, “Really that powerful, huh?”

  “Hey, they don't call me the Puppet Master for nothing.”

  “No one calls you that.”

  “Sure they do.”

  “I've never heard anyone call you that.”

  Karina snorted, “Whatever. Like you know all the people. Anyway, just food for thought. Gotta go. Love you girlie! Call me if another crisis occurs that you need me to enlighten you about!”

  Before Lauren could come back with a witty retort of her own, Karina had disconnected the phone.

  Lauren couldn't say that she really felt any better after the phone conversation with Karina. No, she still felt all of the acidic emotions that had been burning inside her before the call – anger, despair, sadness, and confusion. The only difference was that now, they were no longer directed at Ben, but were rather focused squarely upon herself.

  Why did this have to be so complicated?

  --- ~ ---

  Ben opened his hotel room door and gestured for his gorgeous young companion to enter ahead of him. As soon as they were inside, he wrapped her in his arms, emotion filling his face.