Love Unscripted
Copyright © 2010 by Tina Reber
www.tinareber.com
ISBN: 1451533969
EAN-13: 9781451533965
Copyright © March 2010 by Tina Reber
Song Lyrics to “What Do You Say?” Copyright ©2010 Tina Reber
First Edition – April 2010
Book 1 of the Series
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
Preface
Chapter 1- Eye of the Storm
Chapter 2 – Open Doors
Chapter 3 - Encounters
Chapter 4 - Games
Chapter 5 – Connections
Chapter 6 - Respite
Chapter 7 - Revelations
Chapter 8 – Reflections
Chapter 9 - Gestures
Chapter 10 - Possibilities
Chapter 11 – Grilled
Chapter 12 – Served
Chapter 13 - Windows
Chapter 14 - Date
Chapter 15 – Dinner
Chapter 16 - Fused
Chapter 17 - Moved
Chapter 18 – New
Chapter 19 - Entrances
Chapter 21 - Decisions
Chapter 22 - Protected
Chapter 23 - Celebration
Chapter 24 - Sobering
Chapter 25 - Thanks
Chapter 26 - Tests
Chapter 27 - Hollywood
Chapter 28 - Holidays
Chapter 29 - Options
Chapter 30 - Rumors
Chapter 31 - Broadsided
Chapter 32 – Downward Spirals
Chapter 33 - Crushed
Chapter 34 - Shattered
Chapter 35 – Answers
Chapter 36 – What do you say?
Chapter 37 – Sparkle and Fade
Preface
“You never know which way the wind blows” was one of my father’s favorite expressions. I used to think it was silly; just one of those sayings we tell ourselves when we don’t think we have control over our own destiny.
But I’ve since come to realize that sometimes when those winds of change blow, they’re strong enough to toss you into a whole new world, and you really have no control over where you fly or how you land.
I’d always been quite content with my life; it was fairly easy and predictable with only a hint of drama here and there caused by an occasional light breeze. There were a few times when Mother Nature hit me with her best shot, but I always managed to land on my feet.
Somewhere along the line I actually thought I had gained control over the weather, keeping the possibility of a terrible storm always at bay.
That was until the day the wind blew through my door and carried me away.
Chapter 1- Eye of the Storm
“Ooh, ooh, Taryn, turn it up!” Marie pointed frantically in the air while making a gin and tonic with her other hand.
Her sudden excitement caught me off-guard and made me jump. I quickly grabbed the television remote, fumbling to adjust the volume of the evening news. I should have known better; there was only one thing Marie or any of the other women in town felt was newsworthy these days, and it wasn’t that the mall was having a shoe sale. I don’t even think “free shoes” could have been more exciting to them.
Soon after my thumb hit the button on the remote I became slightly perturbed, but it was too late to correct my mistake. The damage was already done.
“Looks like the obsessive fans caused another traffic jam today,” I said, laughing lightly, trying to pretend like I actually cared.
For a moment I thought I was watching a repeat of yesterday’s news report. The news camera panned a large crowd of frantic girls who lined up along side of the road - again. They were trying to spy on the movie crew as they filmed on one of our local beaches - again, hoping for the random chance to get a glimpse of “him.”
Between all of the cars that were parked haphazardly and the girls running back and forth across the street, traffic on Ocean View Drive was almost at a standstill. The police were trying their best to move the chaos away from the area, inadvertently creating more chaos in the process.
“I’m sure all of their ‘I Love Ryan’ posters will capture his attention,” I stated jokingly, rolling my eyes at the absurdity of it all.
From what I had seen and heard about him, I presumed he didn’t care the slightest bit about the teenyboppers and their childish signs of love and adoration. Still, their actions perplexed me to no end. What possessed these girls – many of them grown women – to take the time out of their day to decorate poster board and stand along side a busy roadway? Do they actually think he may just stop one day?
“Darling, your sign with my name written in florescent pink with silver hearts is such a brilliant artistic representation of my life. It validates my existence and makes me so hot. Please… come… run away with me…” I tugged on Marie’s arm, pretending to be “him.”
A few of the patrons sitting at the bar laughed at my theatrics, while the girls who were being interviewed by the news reporter on TV screamed just a bit louder. I pointed the remote back at the television and quickly lowered the volume of their ear-piercing shrieks; I really wanted to change the channel.
“Hang on a sec, I want to see this,” Marie defended quickly, dismissing my actions with her hand. Her eyes stared intently at the screen.
“Ahh! See, he’s on again!” Marie squealed with excitement. Several ladies sitting at the bar lurched off of their stools to get a better view of the television.
“Hey - watch what you’re doing.” I pointed.
Marie was so preoccupied watching the news she speed-poured vodka on the outside of the glass.
“Damn, look at him! He’s so freakin’ gorgeous,” Traci, one of my regular customers, shouted.
A group of businessmen sitting at one of the tables nearest to the television booed loudly and then requested for me to turn ESPN on instead.
Unconsciously, my eyes flashed back to the television to see what the big deal was, but I only saw part of his head as he climbed into the back seat of a car.
It had only been about two weeks since “he” and “the cast” descended on our town but I was already tired of hearing about them. The local news and radio stations talked about the actors incessantly, to the point that it became overkill. I tried desperately to remember what life was like before they landed, but it was difficult.
I quickly diverted my atte
ntion to more important things, like the two well-dressed young men who just sat down at the bar near the first cluster of beer taps - customers. One of the men caught my eye as he loosened the knot of his brown paisley necktie, taking a moment to unwind after a long day at the office no doubt. I had seen him once before in the pub, and now he was smiling brightly at me.
I let out a tiny sigh while waiting for the stream of amber beer to fill the glass mug in my hand. My fingers gripped the large wooden handle, and with a quick flick of my wrist, I cut the flow from the beer tap.
I slipped the ten dollar bill out from under his fingers and went on with my day.
“He’s cute,” Marie muttered privately.
I punched the keys on the register to ring in the sale. “He’s married.”
Marie looked back at him. Her eyes examined my assessment.
“No ring,” she whispered, appearing slightly puzzled.
She obviously didn’t look hard enough. “You can see the indentation.”
I carried his change back to him. Marie looked astonished that I noticed that. What she didn’t know was that the last time this particular man was in my pub, he was wearing a gold band around his left-hand ring finger. Poor man… somehow his wedding ring must have accidentally slipped off before he sat down.
While I mindlessly washed some dirty glasses in the sink, the setting sun beamed its final rays, casting beautiful hues of pink and purple through the large windows that dominated the front of my pub.
My pub – I could say that now with absolute authority, although the heartache that I was put through to be in this spot would never, in a million years, be worth it. It was not worth the personal loss. But then again, when has life ever been fair?
I had prepared myself properly… college education with honors, plans for a Master’s Degree to follow. Still, despite my best efforts, fate apparently had some other future in mind for me, and it wasn’t to worry about other people’s financial situations.
I gazed at the windows, imagining that the view of the evening sky over the Atlantic Ocean was even more breathtaking. I thought about running upstairs to the rooftop to watch the sunset over the water but I couldn’t; customers were already filtering in for happy hour.
Even though there was an enormous influx of new people in our little town of Seaport, Rhode Island recently, my customer count oddly remained the same - probably because all of the mayhem was located at the other end of town.
It had been almost two months since the tractor-trailers loaded with expensive cameras and filming equipment first rumbled through our streets. An extensive production crew immediately followed. They came in droves.
In the blink of an eye, police barricades blocked off selected roads, and huge, white tents were erected in the empty parking lot next to the vacant warehouse by Pier Seven. Towering lights were brought in to illuminate the entire lot and several large mechanical cranes were parked on stand-by near the new fence.
Long, white camper trailers were arranged in rows and it reminded me of the times when the carnival would come to town. The only thing missing was the Ferris wheel.
Everything, for the most part, was calm; that was until the big-named Hollywood actors arrived. With them came the news crews, photographers, and mobs of obsessed fans. It was like having wild, rabid dogs unleashed in the streets. Everyone was in a tizzy.
The biggest commotion, however, was caused by a twenty-six year-old actor turned mega-star overnight…
Ryan Christensen
Six foot two, dirty blond hair, blue eyes, incredible body from what I’ve seen in the magazines that Marie keeps stuffing in my face, and reportedly single again.
Oh, how they all swooned - everyone, except for me.
Marie and several of my female customers were completely flustered just from getting a quick glimpse of him on TV. I was relieved that they didn’t behave like the mob of screaming fans that was shown on the news.
I could never understand what drove women to the point of hysterics when they saw a famous singer or movie star. I remembered seeing video clips of women going out of their minds from seeing Elvis or The Beatles - screaming, crying, and passing out from getting their glimpse. I knew it was thrilling, but there has to be a limit before you lose control of your emotions and behavior. I just couldn’t relate.
Growing up, it wasn’t in my personality to hang pictures of teen heartthrobs on my walls. By the time I was in my teens, I had discovered fine art instead. My bedroom was covered in the classics with my own artwork dotted in between. That was more my style, more… realistic, tangible.
I slid a fresh pitcher of beer over to my current customer. “That’s five-fifty please.” I smiled in return, dancing slightly to the song playing off of my iPod over the pub’s sound system.
One of the firefighters from our local Seaport Fire Department, who was sitting with a group of co-workers at the large, round table in front of me, raised his empty beer pitcher in the air to get my attention.
“Phil really likes you,” Marie whispered.
“Who’s Phil?” I asked, pulling my long blond hair back to remove the few strands that annoyingly stuck to the corner of my mouth.
Marie rolled her eyes at me. “Taryn!” she scolded.
“Sorry, but I don’t know who you’re talking about!” I honestly had no clue who Phil was.
“Fire Department?” She motioned the direction with her eyes. “The cute guy smiling at you? The one who is recently divorced and now on the open market?”
“Him?” I pointed with a tilt of my head. “I thought his name was Todd.”
“No, it’s Phil,” Marie corrected, laughing at my confused expression. “He’s been asking about you.”
I opened a new bottle of vodka, wondering where I ever got the name Todd.
“Well?” Marie asked impatiently, waiting for my response.
“Not interested,” I muttered while I prepared a Dirty Martini. Sandy had asked for three olives in this one.
Marie put her fist on her hip, just like she always does when she feels the need to lecture me. I started laughing at her stance; it reminded me of when we were teenagers, leaning on our school lockers and talking about boys.
I was thankful that she at least kept her voice down this time to reprimand me so all the people sitting at the bar wouldn’t hear her every word.
“Taryn, what’s wrong with him? He is freaking good-looking!” Marie whispered.
I sighed. “Nothing is wrong with him.” I quickly hurried down the long bar to deliver the martini. It didn’t matter how handsome he was; I did not want to be any man’s second choice for a wife.
“What about Dan over there?” Marie suggested. “That poor guy asks you out at least once a week. He’s adorable too. Or Jeff, or Kevin, or Andy?” She pointed inconspicuously around the pub.
I glanced around at the faces of the men that she was referring to. All of them had asked me to go on a date at one time or another and I had lied to each and every one of them, telling them I already had a boyfriend.
“You need to give a few of these assholes a chance… you just might find one that fits!” Marie teased me. “Besides, if I had a body like yours, I’d be putting it to good use every day!”
She didn’t need to shake her butt for me to grasp her innuendo.
I rolled my eyes. “No you wouldn’t! And you’ve known me long enough to know I’m not like that either.”
“Tar, it’s been like eight months. This existence you’re in is not healthy.”
“Healthy in comparison to what?” I asked. My chest still had a lingering, dull pain from the last man who shattered my heart into a million pieces. I didn’t need to explain further; Marie knew exactly what I meant. “Besides, I like my existence,” I informed her with an exaggerated grin. It was safe – predictable – painless.
“I just want to see you happy again,” Marie uttered in defeat.
“Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.” Actually I had grown quit
e accustomed to lying to her, too. Little did she know, I had another stupid dream, or should I say nightmare, about Thomas again this morning.
“I don’t need some divorced guy on the rebound to make me happy,” I said to her in passing.
“Ehem, Taryn?” I heard a man’s voice call my name. Phil the fireman was standing at the bar.
Instinctively my shoulders hunched from the fear of having been overheard. I hoped like hell that he didn’t just hear my comment; I would feel awful if he did.
I looked at Marie for confirmation. Her eyes opened wider and she shrugged the slightest bit, which was absolutely no help. I started to panic a little inside; the last thing I wanted to do was to hurt his feelings.
Phil waved a twenty at me and gestured for the new pitcher of beer I still held in my hand.
“I wanted to ask you if you’ve tried that new steakhouse over by the mall yet?” Phil mumbled nervously, almost to the point that I didn’t understand him. As I processed his question, my eyes closed briefly and I took a deep breath through my nose. This was his opener to ask me on a date.
“No, I haven’t, but Marie has.” I hurried away to the cash register with his money in hand and punched the keys slowly, trying to figure out how to let him down easy. I could sense what was coming.
“Do you, I mean, maybe sometime, can I take you there for dinner?” It was hard for him to ask. I felt really bad for him and for what I was about to say next.