“Hello?” I whispered. My voice definitely sounded groggy when I spoke.
“Hi. Sorry to call so late. Were you sleeping?” Ryan whispered.
“No… almost. How are you?” Another big yawn slipped out from my chest.
“I’m tired too. It’s been a long day,” he said glumly.
“What time is it there?” I glanced over at my alarm clock but I was too out of it to do time zone math.
“It’s almost midnight,” he breathed out with a sigh.
“Thank you for the flowers!” I whispered. “That was cute. You definitely took me by surprise.”
He quietly laughed. “Good,” he uttered. Considering he called me, his response was oddly brief.
“So what are you doing?” I could only imagine the glamorous movie star stuff he must be up to.
“I’m in my hotel room. I just got back.” By the way his cell phone crackled, it sounded like he was busy getting settled in.
“Hmm. Did you have a good day?” I murmured, trying to make conversation. I snuggled deeper into my blanket.
“It was all right, I guess. I’m glad it’s over.” Despite his response, the tone of his voice was off - way off. I could tell he was troubled.
“Ryan, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” My eyes popped open and I sat up in bed, overwhelmed with concern about his well-being. “Something is wrong.”
He sighed. “How can you tell?” He sounded surprised that I could read him like that.
“I just can. I can hear it in your voice.”
“I’ll be all right. Sometimes my life gets freaking insane. Today was one of those days.” His voice trembled and he sniffed a few times. I could tell he was lying. He wasn’t all right.
I took a deep breath, picturing him huddled up with his head between his arms again like that first day in my stairwell.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I offered.
I listened as he blew air into his phone. “Ah, I don’t know if talking about it will make a difference,” he muttered.
He and I were so much alike. Now it was his turn to sit there feeling sorry for himself.
“Hmm. I have an idea. Why don’t you crawl under your blanket and tell me all about it.” For a moment I wished I could climb through the phone to comfort him.
He chuckled lightly. “Can you hold on a minute? I need to set the phone down.”
“Sure,” I whispered. I could hear that he was shifting around. I imagined him getting undressed… the light hairs on his stomach peeking above an elastic band. I wonder what he looks like naked?
He let out a big sigh, disrupting my thought.
“Are you better?” I asked.
“Much,” he replied, but I didn’t believe him.
I took in a deep breath and exhaled roughly. “You don’t sound very convincing.”
He laughed softly. I could just tell by his lack of answers that he was upset.
“Are you under your blanket yet?” I whispered seductively, hoping that might cheer him up.
“Yes,” he snickered.
“Close your eyes… and relax. Just listen to my voice. Take a deep breath... Let it out... Just breathe.” I wanted so desperately to take his worries away. The feelings were overpowering.
“You’re lying on a soft blanket on a white sand beach. The sky above is a deep and cloudless blue...” I paused to let him soak the imagery in.
“The sun feels warm on your face... you can hear the sound of the ocean as the waves slowly roll in. You can feel the gentle breeze glide over your skin as it rustles through the trees… feel the stress leave your body… through your fingers… through your toes.”
A soft “Mmm” slipped from his throat. “This is nice.”
“Mmm, what’s nice?” I breathed out.
“This... Feeling at peace… You.”
“Hmm,” I softly sighed into the phone, happy to know my words helped him relax.
“I wish I was there with you,” he whispered.
“I wish you were here too,” I whispered softly.
After the words came out of my mouth, there was no taking them back but it didn’t matter, I didn’t want to take them back. My words came from my heart and not my head. Part of me hoped he really meant what he said.
Ryan called me three times on Wednesday just to say hello and ask me how my day was going. I was completely floored that he called me so many times.
He had talked to Cal and the plan was that the private gathering would be held next Sunday at the pub. The entire cast had been invited, but not everyone was expected to attend. The last head count was eight.
The third time Ryan called, it was midnight in L.A. and his obligations there were completed. He would be departing at noon out of LAX to Detroit and then Detroit to Providence. He’d be back in town Thursday evening. I laughed to myself that he felt the need to keep me up-to-date on his itinerary. I didn’t even have to ask; he volunteered the information first. It was kind of cute.
We were both snuggled in our beds as he filled me in on his day. He had an interview on a talk show and then a late meeting with some producer and his agent and manager about an upcoming movie project they want him to star in. Although Ryan wouldn’t directly admit it, I got the impression that some of his career decisions were being made for him and that he was just supposed to agree with what they said.
Ryan’s fame and popularity were so new and fresh that he was being swept away with it all. These movie moguls were all going to strike while the iron was hot. I didn’t need to be part of his world to recognize that. Ryan was a new toy for them; his movie made millions of dollars and it was easy to visualize the greed in Hollywood taking over like an evil succubus.
While I listened to his voice I allowed my imagination to run free as I pictured what it would be like to have him lying next to me - so close that I could touch him, soothe him, protect him from the insanity. Ugh! What am I thinking? I had to stop myself from thinking those thoughts.
We talked for almost three hours; the birds were already starting to wake up and chirp outside my window. We started opening up to each other and our conversation became more personal. He told me that he grew up in a small town in western Pennsylvania and that his parents still lived in the same house to this day. How he once had a Jack Russell Terrier named Bailey who used to dig holes in the yard.
I told him about the job offer I had accepted at a large brokerage firm in Manhattan, and why I had to turn it down when my father died suddenly. I was a week away from moving.
Ryan told me about the lead actress that he has to work with on these movies and how she sometimes behaved like a spoiled brat. He called her “BB,” as all the tabloids referred to her as the British Bombshell, but she was better known as Suzanne Strass. She was a former child actress from London who recently turned twenty-one.
Even though they were friends, she sometimes annoyed the heck out of him, and it ticked him off that all the gossip magazines were spreading lies about them being romantically linked. She had tagged along with him the night he came into my pub.
Throughout our conversation, we laughed and teased. He was so easy to talk to. But he always seemed hesitant to talk about what was truly bothering him. I could sense there were underlying issues, however he never went into details and I didn’t want to pry. I could hear it in his voice that there were things that he wasn’t sharing.
It was Thursday, early evening, when Marie flipped through the channels on the pub television. Ryan had given a brief interview with one of the evening entertainment news shows and it was being broadcasted today.
It was strange watching him on television. Even though the voice was the same, the celebrity image on the screen was disconnected from the man I was trying so desperately not to fall for over the telephone. But some things were the same; he was charming and shy and slightly uncomfortable with all the attention during the interview. I noticed his nervous twitches and mannerisms when they asked questions that he was uncomfortable with.
Still, he was humble and very adorable.
And then my heart lodged into my throat when I saw the additional footage of him being swept through a hysterical crowd by six bulky security guards. At one point I wasn’t sure if he was even walking on his own or if the security team was just carrying him.
The fans were reaching for him – holding cameras over their heads for just the random chance that they might get his photo. Others were holding pictures of him hoping to get his autograph. A few women were crying and hyperventilating just from getting a glimpse of him.
The security team practically hurled him into the awaiting car; his fans were screaming and blocking his car in the road. Mobs of paparazzi were everywhere. I gripped the edge of the bar as my knees started to buckle. He was the prey being stalked by the wolves.
At that moment, I realized the magnitude of what he was sparing me from. It wasn’t that he was the superstar adored by millions that made me weak. It was the feeling that I wanted to throw myself in their path to protect him that was most powerful.
An hour later my cell phone buzzed in my pocket. Ryan was texting me:
“Hi I’m back”
I quickly sent him a reply: “Hi r u ok?”
“Yeah why u ask?”
“Nothing glad to hear ur back safe” I couldn’t tell him why I was worried.
“We r shootn night scenes gonna b a late one”
I smiled when I saw the sad smiley face. “dont work too hard have fun”
“I’ll try to call u soon ok?”
“Ok”
I was relieved to know he was back in Rhode Island, away from that California craziness, although it appeared that some of that craziness followed him wherever he went.
We were very busy for a weeknight. It seemed that his huge female fan base that swarmed my pub had attracted a new selection of male customers – everyone was on the hunt – and the odds were better if you were a man.
“It’s like freaking mating season!” I yelled over to Marie.
She snorted at me. “I know! It’s sick, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know if I should be appalled or thankful,” I laughed back to her.
“I’m extremely thankful!” She bobbed her head back and forth and stuffed a few more dollars into our tip jar. “Go! Find a mate!” she teased me.
I wasn’t opposed to finding someone and having love be a part of my life again, but every guy I came across was oddly the same. Lame approaches, cheap comments, scary aggressive behavior, or just not what I was longing for. At this point in my life I didn’t feel the need to settle nor have to make due with half of nothing.
It was after three a.m. again when I crawled into bed. My hands hurt from washing so many dirty glasses and empty beer pitchers tonight and it bothered me that I couldn’t curl them underneath my chin like I normally did to sleep.
I never tried to buy into the fairytales that most girls fell for, but for a moment I felt like I could really relate to Cinderella, being forced to clean up after all of the wicked and ungrateful.
I was still thinking about Cinderella periodically throughout the next day. I wondered why she never just snapped and told her evil stepmother and stepsisters to go to hell. Would things have been different for her if she had a baseball bat tucked up under her apron and didn’t need Prince Charming to come and rescue her? Why won’t this sticky stuff come up off the bar? How hard do I need to scrub?
“Hey, kiddo! How you doing tonight?” Pete asked, drumming his hands on the bar.
I was so lost in my own thoughts while scouring the top of the bar that his drumming startled me. My eyes focused in on his beaming face as I tried to shake my brain back into reality.
“I’m doing all right,” I answered, forcing myself to smile.
“We should have a good Friday night crowd tonight,” he said enthusiastically. I smiled wider when he raised his eyebrows up and down at me.
“Frank and the guys just pulled up. I’m going to see if they need a hand unloading,” Pete informed.
Customers were filtering in while tonight’s band set up their equipment. My head was slowly getting back into the game as my earlier distractions became replaced with juggling a multitude of drink orders.
As the evening progressed, the crowd grew thicker and the music became louder, and I found myself flowing and dancing behind the bar again. Tammy had agreed to work a few weekends, so I had her covering tables.
There were two men sitting at the bar that Marie felt I should be interested in. She kept nudging me in their direction but I couldn’t stop envisioning them having giant springs attached to their necks from the way their heads kept nodding at me.
“What’s wrong with you?” Marie said as she put her arm around my shoulders. “That one in the baseball hat is cute! Go flirt with him!”
I half-heartily smiled and made a choking sound.
“Don’t give me that shit!” she snapped. “You need to be brave and get back on the damn horse!” Her hand cracked me on my backside.
Mr. Baseball Hat had just waved his empty glass at me when my phone vibrated in my pocket. My heart flipped in my chest.
“Hello?” I answered, very much knowing whose voice was going to respond. I had to cover my ear to hear him.
“Hi – how are you?” Ryan asked.
“I’m great! How are you?” I was genuinely happy to hear from him. Ryan was momentarily distracted by a side conversation. I heard him and another man exchanging words.
“Hey man, how’s it going?”
Why does that voice sound so familiar to me?
“It’s going great,” Ryan replied with a light chuckle.
“Good to see ya. Nah, just go on in,” the male voice stated.
“Thanks! Hey I’ll see you later,” Ryan said.
“I’m thirsty,” Ryan informed, answering my original question. “I’d really like a beer please.”
I looked up to see that he was twenty feet in front of me, walking towards the bar. He had a big, sexy grin on his face as he slipped his phone into his jacket pocket.
Ryan was the center man in a pack of four other guys. I recognized Cal right away. One of the other men looked familiar – like I’d seen him in a movie or something before but I didn’t know who he was. The other two had to be private security – they looked like they could hurt someone.
“Hey you!” Ryan greeted me with that smile that made my knees weak.
“Hi!” My tone was unintentionally a mixture of surprise and annoyance. I was very glad to see him but now I’d have to deal with crowd control and his psychotic fans invading my pub. I looked behind him and sure enough half a dozen giggling girls traipsed through the door.
Cal moved into the space next to Ryan. Obviously it was boys’ night out.
“Taryn, this is Shane Richards,” Ryan said as he waved his hand in Shane’s direction. Shane was tall and overly thin, with unkempt brown hair. He looked like he should be in a rock band instead of being a movie star. Regardless, his smile was dazzling.
“What would you gentlemen like to drink this evening?” I tried to be cordial as more overly excited women came in. The second they saw Ryan and his friends, their demeanor turned to bubbling exuberance.
While the guys looked over my beer menu, the coyotes descended. Ryan was like a huge chick magnet, even though Shane and Cal were equally as handsome. In no time at all, the brave ones in the crowd tried to cozy up to the actors.
I tapped a beer for each of them and with every second that I had to watch all the over-zealous girls flirting I became more and more irritated. I placed the last beer on the bar when Ryan asked what he owed me.
I waved my hand. “Nothing. It’s on me.” I smiled.
My smile, however, quickly faded after seeing even more giggling women rush through my door. I hurried out from behind the bar; I was on a mission to stop the invasion.
“Pete, no more people get in,” I inadvertently barked at him.
“Okay,” he replied a tad
defensively. “Sorry – are there too many people in there now?”
“No, but we’ve filled our quota of obsessive fans,” I snapped as I eyed the girls who were waiting to pay the cover charge. “People need to get a freaking life,” I mumbled to myself and stomped my way back to the bar.
Ryan and his friends were still standing by the bar but now women surrounded them on all sides. Tramp! Slut! shouted in my brain as I stormed past them. Ryan’s gaze followed me but I didn’t look at him. I stepped back behind the bar and for a moment entertained the idea of smashing some girls with my baseball bat.
I purposely relocated myself as far away as possible from him and the gaggle of women, which landed me directly in front of Mr. Baseball Hat. I nudged Marie in Ryan’s direction.
Fortunately my pub was packed and I was hustling making one drink after another. I made a conscious effort not to look for him or in his direction, even though it was hard. Occasionally I’d allow myself a quick peek, but I never let my eyes linger.
“Are you mad that he’s here?” Marie whispered in my ear.
I shook my head while I prepared two vodka tonics.
“Well you look mad,” she laughed at me. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m allergic to whores,” I mumbled under my breath.
“Oh, I see. Jealous, not mad,” she corrected.
I huffed out loud. “How am I supposed to compete with all of that?” I nodded at the crowd of women. “Ahh, it doesn’t matter.”
“You’re fucked up!” Marie snapped back at me while she was mixing a drink. “If you haven’t realized it yet, he’s in your bar. He’s being nice to them, but he is far from flirting with any of them. He’s too busy watching you to notice them.”
I grimaced when she nudged me to speak privately.
“And another thing, if you’re going to be jealous, then that means you like him more than you’re willing to admit. This shit is a part of his life,” she noted and waved her hands towards the wall of girls. “It comes with the territory so you need to decide whether you can deal with that or not.”
She stood right in front of me and grabbed my wrist.