02 Unforgivable - Untouchable

by Lindsay Delagair

  I had brought my laptop and was just signing off on an assignment as we finished the last of our lunch. Ryan thought about going back to high school with Candace, but he finally opted to complete the few credits he needed online, which was what I was doing as well. I was just a little further ahead than he was because I started my classes’ right after I got out of the hospital back in March and then stopped when Micah came back into my life. I was only weeks away from my diploma and finally anxious to close that chapter of my life. I snapped the lid shut and asked him if he was ready.

  We were just about to get up and leave when a gentleman approached our table and stated my name as if he knew me. I had no clue who he was. He was about my height, slender built and in his mid to late thirties with graying hair and a salt and pepper close trimmed beard and was wearing a pair of small, expensive sunglasses.

  “What did you do to your hair? Annalisa, that will never do,” he continued. “We’re going to have to get some hair extensions and dye it back to brown.” He stated as if I should know what he was talking about.

  “Excuse me, but I don’t know you.” I was getting a strong suspicion he would end up being a reporter.

  Ryan stood preparing to get this guy away from me.

  “No, but I do know you,” he said extending his hand.

  I refrained and he withdrew as Ryan moved toward him.

  “My name is Don Bollson, I’m working for a production company in L.A. and we’ve been trying to find you.”

  “For what?”

  “We’re putting together a new show for ABC and you’re on our hit list, girlfriend. Do you mind if I sit? We’ve got a lot to discuss.”

  “A television show?” Ryan questioned.

  “Yes, it’s called Remake. We debut this November and it will be prime time.”

  “I’m not going on a television show. I’ve got enough problems with the press.”

  “Well, just answer me one question because you might not even fit our needs anyway,” he stated and then leaned toward me from across the table and asked quietly, “Can you sing?”

  “Like an angel,” Ryan replied, before allowing me to speak.

  “Perfect!” was the exuberant response.

  “I’m not going on a television show!” I snapped. Heads began turning our way.

  “Could we at least discuss this somewhere privately? I can give you all the details and you can give me an informed refusal.”

  “Sure, you can come back to our house.”

  “Ryan!” I said, slapping his arm. “No, I don’t—”

  “Leese, you could at least hear the man out. I mean this might benefit, I don’t know like starving children in Africa or something, right?” he asked looking at the man.

  “Sure, you could donate the million dollar prize to your favorite charity. That would be fine.”

  “See. It’s charity work, Leese.”

  “I’ll donate a million dollars and skip the show,” I growled.

  “Please, just a chance to tell you about it, that’s all I want.”

  Ten minutes later we were seated in our living room as Mr. Bollson explained the concept. “We’re getting people from all over the United States who have captured the interest of the American public. The only thing they can’t currently be are singers, nor can they have or have had any singing contracts. We’ll start with a total of twenty-four contestants. The first show, you’ll choose a song to sing and our judging panel will decide if you make it to the next week.”

  “Wait,” I stopped him, “what makes this different from American Idol? It sounds like the same thing.”

  “No, our contestants are famous or infamous in their own right. Then we pair you up with the original group, singer or band and let you remake their song. It’s more like a cross between Idol and Dancing with the Stars.

  “The next week, the same thing happens. On the fourth week there will only be twelve of you left. The weeks after that are themed and you’ll choose songs from the era or genre selected. You’ll get to work with some of the greatest artist of our time, if they’re alive and agree, of course. That is one thing we can’t control is the song choice for your first two performances. So, if you pick an Elvis song, and we pray that you don’t, we have to get permission from his estate and then you can only get a feel for how he performed by watching old video. Does that make sense?”

  I nodded. Even though it sounded like it could end up being fun, it would also increase my problem with going out in public.

  “America votes each week when the live shows start, and we dwindle down until we have the final two contestants. The last song will actually be a surprise the night of the live show and you’ll only have a short amount of time to prepare for it. We’re a little concerned how this is going to work, but we’re still discussing this point with ownership.

  “If you win, you get a million dollars and recognition as the first star on Remake. We don’t promise any recording contracts, but I can almost guarantee that if the public wants to hear more from you, record companies will be breaking down your door to get you to sign.”

  “And that,” I stated with my first amount of enthusiasm since I met Mr. Bollson, “is exactly why I don’t want to do it. I don’t need the publicity, nor do I want people breaking down my door trying to find me.”

  “Ah, come on, Leese. It sounds like fun and I know you’ll be fabulous at—”

  “NO!” I shot back at Ryan. I looked at Mr. Bollson, “I’m sorry, but I’d prefer to stay as obscure as possible.”

  “Well, if you are positive you don’t want to do it, I’ll leave. But here is my card, just in case you change your mind,” he said, rising and walking away.

  Ryan showed him to the door when Mr. Bollson stopped and turned around, “You know a song is a great way to get a message across. Isn’t there someone in your life, maybe someone you’ve lost touch with or haven’t seen in a long time that you’d like to choose a song and send that message out?”

  “N-no,” I stumbled on the response. Of course there was someone I’d like to sing my heart out to, someone who I’d like to sing my apology to, someone I loved so much yet couldn’t have anymore.

  Ryan opened the door as I watched my opportunity preparing to exit. “Wait!”

  I had a feeling I was going to seriously regret this decision.

  Mr. Bollson turned to me and smiled, “I need you in L.A. on Monday morning. We can fly you in—”

  “I can fly her in,” Ryan stopped him.

  “I need an idea of the first singer or band we’re going to need to call.”

  “Rascal Flatts,” I breathed out.

  Two sets of eyebrows raised my direction.

  “All right, then I’ll see what I can do to either have them flown in or have you fly out to wherever they are.”

  He produced a single paper with the time, date and place in Los Angeles where I was to go on Monday. He said the other paperwork would be completed at the studio.

  “And by the way, I’ll have a stylist waiting for you because America doesn’t know this short-haired, blonde version, so don’t be offended.”

  Mr. Bollson left.

  Ryan stared at me after closing the front door, “Rascal Flatts? He’s country right? I just figured you’d pick something different.”

  “They are country; it’s the name of their group not a singer. They have the perfect song and it’s the only reason I agreed to do this. I’m actually hoping the other contestants are really good and they’ll give me the boot after the first week. I just want a chance to sing one song for Micah.”

  “Which song?”

  “What Hurts the Most,” I said as my eyes began to tear.

  “Will you sing it for me first?” he asked as he came and sat beside me on the couch, wrapping his arm around my shoulder.

  I shook my head, “I don’t think I can, not right now. But, I know there’s a song that fits how I feel about you, too. If I make it more than a week or two, I’ll sing it for y
ou.”

  He leaned over and kissed my forehead, “So that only leaves me one question to ask,” he breathed as he lifted my chin and pierced me with those blue eyes.

  The look was so deep and hard that I was afraid of what the question might be. His hand slid slowly around the side of my cheek, cupping me warmly as his mouth reached the opposing ear. He was being so deliberate that my pulse was beginning to quicken as he very slowly whispered, “What kind of…” He took another breath, “…car did you order?”

  “Ah!” I pulled away and smacked his shoulder. “You jerk!”

  We laughed and tousled against each other until I pulled a few martial arts moves on him and made him beg for mercy. I don’t honesty think he was trying very hard to defend himself, but it was fun anyway.

  Friday, a few minutes after noon, my new baby arrived. It was just going to be the two of us to see it first. Andy and Ty were pulling guard duty and, although Candace got out of school at twelve-thirty, she had work right after that, so he and I would get to enjoy my car alone for a little while.

  The sleek black semi-truck bore no marking to spoil my surprise. They opened the back doors and lowered the ramp as the sound of a high performance engine resounded from somewhere inside the box trailer.

  “What color is it going to be?” Ryan asked, obviously not wanting to wait for the suspense of seeing it roll down the ramp.

  “I liked the paint job on the Javelin.”

  “Red?” he sounded surprised.

  The back of the car emerged and then she rolled down the ramp and into the street.

  “It’s a… What is it?”

  “It’s a Shelby Ultimate Aero,” I stated proudly, “The world’s fastest production car.” I sounded like a commercial. He wasn’t speaking as he walked slowly around it, so I continued, “It packs 1,287 horsepower—”

  “Shit! Leese, you don’t need that much engine! I don’t want you killing yourself,” he snapped as a worried expression washed away his smile.

  I ignored the remark as I gave him a few more tidbits, “It goes zero to sixty in 2.78 seconds, redlines at 7800 rpms and tops out at 256 miles per hour.”

  He was still frowning.

  “Wanna go for a drive?” I said twirling the key from my index finger, and giving him a wink.

  The frown was losing ground, “You drive first, but I want a turn behind the wheel, too.”

  I squealed with delight as I charged for the driver’s side.

  I would have to be content with civil driving as we moved down the city streets, but Ryan was on his cell phone with Andy begging for a favor.

  “Head for the Air Force Base. Andy’s going to see if he can get us a runway for a little while.”

  I was surprised he actually did get permission, but it turned out that Andy’s Colonel was a big fan of Shelby cars and we were told that the military would turn their heads for a couple trips down the runway.

  It was like being strapped to a rocket as we blurred across the strip. We had gathered quite a crowd by the time we decided that we had taken up enough of their time. Their Colonel came out just as we were ready to leave, but I offered to let him take it for a test drive as a thank you for the use of their roadway.

  He declined at first; I guess he thought I wasn’t really serious. When he realized I meant it, he accepted my offer and took it for a gentle ride. We thanked Andy for his help and told him we’d see him and Ty later at our house.

  Candace was the first to make it to our place when she got off work, but she was the last to see the new car. I told Ryan to take her for a ride, before Andy and Ty showed up. I needed him out of the house for a little while anyway because I had to make a call to my realtor.

  I had chosen a place a couple miles to the south in a beautiful neighborhood with awesome views and quiet streets. I had been deciding between purchasing or leasing. The purchase price was two and a quarter million which was fine with me, but purchasing had a certain permanence to it and I was starting to understand why my mom usually opted to rent what she liked instead of committing.

  The year-long lease was a hundred and twenty thousand with an option to buy at the end. I decided on the lease and I needed to let her know I would be ready to sign the paperwork when I got back from L.A. on Saturday. Ryan would be pissed at me, but I needed to get out of his life before I got weak and made a serious error in judgment.

  By the end of the night they all knew about my pending television debut. I could see the concern on Candace’s face when Ryan said he would fly me to L.A. on Monday and stay with me for the few days I was going through the first phase of the show. I know how she felt as it seemed Ryan was in this unintentional tug of war between us. He wanted to continue helping me and at the same time he wanted to begin this budding relationship with Candace. Before the end of the night, I had a feeling this would be the last time I used him as my private pilot.

  Ty and Andy left, and Ryan was taking a long time to tell Candace goodnight as I turned off the lights and closed the drapery. They were talking outside by her car. I had no intention of seeing what they were doing, but just as I started closing the kitchen blinds, I saw them kiss. This was not the brief kind of kiss they shared before; this was the kind of kiss that he and I shared when I was running away from Micah. I went to the bedroom and, for the first time, I closed my door.

  It must have been another fifteen or twenty minutes before I heard him come into the house. We hadn’t slept together since Candace asked us not to six days ago. My first couple nights had been rocky, but he was in the house and that was comforting enough that I finally managed to start sleeping alone. The funny thing was he told me he was having withdrawals on trying to sleep alone.

  My door cracked open slightly, “Leese, you asleep?”

  “Not yet,” I replied.

  “Can I come in?”

  “Do you really need me to answer that?”

  The door opened and he came and stretched out beside me on the bed, “Candace asked me to go with her to her house tonight,” came his soft words in the dark.

  I rolled toward him. “I’ll be fine by myself,” I assured him, thinking he was getting ready to leave. I was going to be a nervous wreck instead of fine, but I would never tell him. I’d never been truly alone in my whole life. When I wasn’t with Mom, I was with Bev and Matt, then Micah, and now Ryan; but just me by myself was a scary concept.

  “No, I’m not going. I told her maybe another night.”

  “Why? And don’t tell me you don’t know if you really care that much about her because I’ve seen the look on your face and it looks a whole lot like someone falling in love.”

  “You and Micah waited for marriage, but I don’t know if—”

  “Micah didn’t,” I corrected him, “I did. There were other women, plenty of other women I’m assuming, before I came along. I guess I was the only one to say I had to have forever first.”

  “I keep asking myself if I can see her as my wife because I don’t want to hurt her; I don’t see it yet.”

  “I can’t speak for other women, but I know if you made love to me I’d feel the need to commit my life to you. I think Candace might have the same expectation, so don’t take making love to her lightly.”

  “I just want to get to know her better to make sure I want her, not just to be able to finally say I got laid.”

  I laughed softly, “Ryan, you just aren’t that kind of guy. Does she know why you want to take this slow? Does she know you’ve never—”

  “I’ve left a few hints, but I haven’t come right out and told her.”

  “If you don’t tell her she’s going to take this hesitation to mean something else. She’s already worried about you and I going to L.A. together.”

  “Yeah, she kind of told me that tonight.”

  “If I have to go out there anymore, I’m hiring a pilot. I don’t need to make her jealous.”

  “I think that’s ridiculous—I’m not doing anything, I’m just flying you out there
and staying a few days.”

  “If she left for a few days with another guy would you be worried?”

  “That’s not the same.”

  “Oh yes it is. You need to realize she feels this way every time you and I are alone. I imagine she’s wondering what we’re doing right at this moment.”

  “So you’re saying you would have wanted me to go with her tonight?”

  “All I really want is for you to be happy and in love, because I can’t be that person for you—you deserve to be more than a Micah replacement.”

  He leaned over and kissed my forehead. “I—I love you, Leese.”

  I reached out my hand and rested it softly against his cheek, “More than anything, I want you to be happy.”

  “I don’t suppose you consider letting me sleep in here for old time’s sake?”

  I laughed and gave him a push, “Not that kind of happy—no, and I hope the next time you are in a bed with someone she rocks your world and doesn’t tell you no.”

  He rolled off the bed, his feet hitting the floor with a light thump, “Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight, Ryan.”

  Monday morning, after Ryan consumed a half pot of coffee at five a.m., we flew out of Colorado Springs. We touched down at LAX, forty-five minutes before I needed to be in the studio. I considered a rental car, but opted for a taxi since I didn’t know their roads or traffic. Someone at the studio made us reservations at the closest hotel, and we would only have enough time to grab our room key and toss our bags inside before continuing our journey.

  Mr. Bollson was the man to greet us as he ushered me back to the waiting stylists. There were two of them because they were going to try to speed the process from four or five hours to under two as he explained that the other contestants would be arriving at noon. Ryan was seated in a comfortable chair with a ringside view as the man and woman worked on me, but it wasn’t long before I saw his eyelids droop and he fell asleep—so much for all that coffee.