“You have no idea.” Trish exhaled with relief. “Especially since she is on the warpath today.”
I frowned slightly, pitying all of those poor people who had to deal with Marla on a regular basis.
“I still don’t understand why she’s so angry about things,” I muttered.
“I do,” Trish said, fumbling for her BlackBerry, which had just beeped. “She found out from the sleazy tabloids that her number-one client got engaged. Be glad that you missed that. She went absolutely ballistic.”
“I already know she despises me,” I grumbled quietly. “And that little-known fact adds a ton of stress on Ryan.”
“Don’t feel special. She hates everyone,” Trish said matter-of-factly, as her thumbs pushed a few buttons on her cell. “I’ve been with her for seven years and she still doesn’t like me.”
I flipped the tag over on a cream-colored dress. “Well, I didn’t like the way she talked to him this morning. She yelled at him like he was a child and I sort of wanted to punch her.”
“I wish you would have,” Trish said under her breath.
“Hate her that much, too?” I asked jokingly, following her around to the next rack of dresses.
Trish snickered uncomfortably. “Some days are worse than others. Unfortunately in this town, it’s hard to catch a break, no matter how skilled you are. That’s why so many actors are waiters. And PR? If you’re not with an established firm, you starve. Since I like to eat, I’ve learned to shut my mouth and do as I’m told.”
This morning’s badgering continued to plague me. “Trish, really, is it that bad that people know about our engagement?”
She paused. “Well . . . it is his personal business that’s out there now.” She moved a little closer. “Did he really stand on a table when he proposed?”
I sheepishly smirked and nodded to confirm.
Trish’s grin widened. “Can I see the ring?” she asked excitedly, requesting my hand. “Wow, it’s gorgeous! So that’s what half a million looks like. I’m so glad he went with William Goldberg. His rings are absolutely breathtaking. I love the huge trillions on the sides.” She laughed lightly while inspecting my ring. “This was definitely, definitely worth the trouble! Flawless . . .”
I didn’t understand; my brain seized when she let it slip how much Ryan spent on my ring. I shook my head, trying to prevent the high-pitched ringing and the urge to pass out from taking over. “Um . . . ahh.
What do you mean? What trouble?”
“Sneaking Ryan around to meet jewelry designers?” she said tentatively. “I spent hours coordinating that. No offense, Taryn, but I was relieved when you couldn’t make it to the Academy Awards. I was freaking out trying to arrange a meeting without you knowing about it.”
My mind traveled back to the end of February, when I was recovering after being hit by a car and missed my first opportunity to be with him at the Oscars. I glanced at my hand, grateful to her in so many ways.
“Well, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for all of your hard work. I truly appreciate it.”
Just then something else dawned on me. “Wait . . . if you helped him get my ring then why is Marla so mad? I mean she obviously knew . . .”
Trish looked guilty. “She knew he bought a ring but Marla, being the evil bitch that she is, tried to ta—you know what? It doesn’t matter.”
I should have figured as much. “She tried to talk him out of it,” I muttered, finishing her sentence. “I’m bad for his career.”
Trish looked baffled. “Why would you think that?”
I’m surprised she had to ask. After all, it was her boss that did everything except say those exact words out loud. Marla’s actions and comments certainly got that message across. “What about the fans? Are they going to turn on him like that if he’s not single anymore?”
Trish laughed quietly at my apparently silly question. “His fans are not going to turn on him unless he starts making shitty films. I can’t believe she’s telling him to avoid it with Jimmy Collins tonight, though.
Bad, bad, bad . . . ,” she muttered, shaking her head.
I stared at her, questioning why she felt that way, especially since she was working so hard to impress the evil bitch.
Trish pursed her lips, then smiled at a little black dress. “What do you think of this one for your friend Marie? I think this would look fabulous on her. All of the gowns that we preselected for you are in the dressing area. You’ll have to try them on. And now that you two are officially engaged, we need to get you lined up for all your appearance dresses. First rule of fashion, always know who designed your dress.
It’s the first question anyone asks.”
I barely looked at the dress she held up. “Trish, talk to me. What should he do?”
“Nothing. Everything will go on the account and—”
“No, not about the dresses. The interview tonight. You seem to think he should handle it differently.
Ryan thought she was going to tell him to admit our engagement. If it was up to you, what would you tell him?”
Trish recoiled. “Taryn, I can’t tell you that! Besides, if she ever finds out that I advised you, she’ll fire me on the spot. I can’t.”
I followed her around a circular rack of dresses, searching for a new angle. I wanted to hear her opinion now more than anything. “Okay. Well, what if I hired you to represent me—then would you advise me?”
She turned and looked at me, completely shocked. “You don’t understand. I don’t have any clients—Marla does. I have a tiny shithole apartment that I can barely afford, a crappy car, and college loans I’ll still be paying on when I die an old lady.”
“Trish?” I encouraged. “I swear, no one will ever know. Our secret.”
Trish took a deep breath. “Ahh,” she groaned, glancing around the store. “If she ever finds out that I talked to you, I swear I’m coming to live with you and Ryan when I’m homeless.
“The story is already out there,” she continued, “backed up with picture evidence. All those women, those fans, are clinging to the idea of romance with him and seeing him standing on a table and then down on one knee to propose to you—well that’s romantic as all hell. He needs to remain honest.”
I nodded in agreement.
“But it’s his business. It’s his choice and, well . . . yours, whether you want to keep your private life private or not.”
“Taaaar?” I heard Marie call out my name from the dressing room.
Trish’s panic was evident. “Shit, if Marla finds out I said anything . . .”
“I won’t say anything—I swear—but I wish Ryan would get a second opinion before he goes onstage
tonight. He believes everything that Marla tells him.”
Trish’s eyes flashed to the door when a few new customers walked in. “She already called Jimmy Collins’s producer.”
I thought about Ryan being in front of the cameras tonight delivering canned, lame answers. “If I get him alone, will you talk to him? You could really make a big difference in his career.”
Trish looked shocked. She kept shaking her head. “Taryn, no! I can’t!”
“He’s going to look like an idiot,” I muttered.
“Taryn, did you try on any of your dresses yet?” Ryan’s mother, Ellen, asked.
I motioned my answer; I had yet to even look at them. Ellen held up a midnight blue dress, but I was so preoccupied mentally that I only pretended to admire it.
“Come on.” Ellen pulled me along by the arm, hailing the stylist with her other hand. “We have to get you focused because we’re running short on time.”
I tried to put Marla’s condescending tirade out of my mind and enjoy the rest of the day, but the moment I saw her following Ryan when he came into the dressing room backstage at The Jimmy Collins Show my overwhelming hatred for the woman came rushing back. And despite Ryan’s outward appearance, I knew that just below the surface he was still somewhat forlorn.
I tried to be cheery enough for
the both of us; after all, I was excited just being backstage like this, and it helped a lot that his father and Pete were here to lift his spirits. The men were talking about the Stanley Cup playoffs, joking that they were going to relocate their dinner plates by the first television they found in the restaurant tonight. I was thankful that Ryan’s brother kept his sarcastic, hurtful comments to himself this time. Ryan had enough on his mind; he didn’t need to be pushed over the edge tonight.
Marla was hovering around Ryan. She acted like he was her property, and she was on the defensive, blocking anyone who attempted to come close to him. She rudely interrupted the conversation he was trying to have with his family and I felt my anger flare. It was even more infuriating when she wouldn’t make eye contact with me. How petty and childish.
Sadness swirled back in me as she schooled him on the appropriate responses he should give during the interview to deflect any surprise questions Jimmy Collins might spring on him. Marla’s black heart didn’t change colors.
I stewed privately, twisting the diamonds on my finger to keep my hands busy while I paced behind the large black leather couch.
Ryan’s mother looked at me with concern in her eyes. “Taryn, would you like to sit?” Ellen asked, patting the space next to her on the couch. “Please. Come.”
I shook my head slightly, watching my fiancé intently. “That’s okay, Mom,” I said softly. “Thanks, but I’m fine.”
Trish slipped into the room through the closed door. Her eyes darted around, quickly assessing the tension in the room. I hoped she could read my body language to see how upset I was. We all heard Marla clearly when she told Ryan to “try not to screw this up.”
My fingers clenched into the back of the couch to keep from lunging at her. Ellen let out a maternal tsk and an audible huff, glaring eye daggers at Marla.
Trish quickly intervened. “Marla, excuse me. An assistant just told me that the stage director is looking for you.”
“Now?” Marla questioned. She looked at her watch and collected her bag. “Stay with him,” she ordered.
Ryan was sitting in the swivel chair, rubbing his forehead.
Trish appeared conflicted as she sidled up to his chair. “Ryan? Can we talk for a minute?”
Ryan followed her to the back corner of the room.
“So, are you ready? Are you all right with the format?”
He shrugged. “I guess so.”
“Trish, just tell him,” I pleaded, gazing nervously back at the door. I knew we only had ten minutes, if that, to get Ryan prepped.
“Tell me what?” Ryan asked, confused.
Trish cleared her throat. “You know Collins is going to ask about the proposal regardless.”
Ryan sighed. “I know. He wants the exclusive.”
“I was just wondering . . . if Marla wasn’t advising you, how would you handle it?”
Ryan shrugged. “I don’t know. Why?”
Trish took a deep breath. “I think the advice Marla gave you might be a mistake.”
Ryan looked at me, questioning why we were doing this to him right before he was due to walk out onstage.
“It’s your personal business, Ryan, but look at it this way—if you deny that you’re engaged, now that there are pictures and videos, your credibility is going to be worthless.” Trish reflexively glanced over her shoulder again to make sure Marla was still nowhere to be seen.
“When Collins brings it up, I think you should admit to it. Don’t embellish the story with personal information; just be honest and somewhat open. Your fans are going to cling to you if you expose your sensitive, romantic side,” she continued.
“I’m worried about the extra media attention on Taryn,” Ryan said, looking worried and guilty at the same time.
“Don’t worry about me,” I said adamantly. Ryan shot me a look, wordlessly telling me that it was impossible for him to do that.
“If you don’t fess up to it now, the media is going to keep pursuing the story and it’s going to get worse. Hiding it will only sensationalize it and Collins already knows that Taryn is in the building.”
Ryan nodded. “Tomorrow’s press conference?”
“Covered, just like today. Still Q-and-A only on the film,” she quickly replied.
“But I’ve spent the entire day avoiding the subject,” Ryan stressed.
“I know, but Jimmy is going to put you on the spot out there in front of a live studio audience regardless, so you need to be ready for it. This is a huge story, Ryan, and you know he wants it! Collins is renegotiating his contract with the network and he’s looking for the ratings boost. If he gets you to admit it—”
Ryan’s eyes widened. “What? Marla never told me that.”
Trish searched through her bag and retrieved a sheet of paper, which she immediately handed to Ryan.
“Just having you on the show tonight in light of everything is upping his points. See? You’re going to have to respond to it one way or another.”
He held back a curse. “How do I handle Night Life tomorrow then?”
“Same way,” Trish advised, stuffing the paper evidence back in her bag. “If you open up to Jimmy now, Nigel Allen is going to press even harder for new details tomorrow. His ratings are going to jump just because you acknowledged the engagement tonight—if you choose to do that. But if you do, then you’ll have both Collins and Allen in your pocket for further PR. But let’s not worry about that now.
You’ve got to concentrate on handling this appearance.”
Ryan glanced over to the doorway that led out to the main hallway. “Marla doesn’t know about this, does she?” He motioned with his finger, swaying it between the two of us.
“No,” I answered. “Trish is sticking her neck out to protect your reputation.”
“I’ll probably get fired tonight,” she huffed. “But anyway, you need to turn scandal into opportunity, Ryan. Treat it with honesty. Jimmy said that if he gets you to talk about your engagement, he’s going to try and contrast the romance in the movie back against your admission to keep it moving. I was there when Marla talked to him and his producer just before you came in for your pre-interview.”
Ryan blew out a big lungful of air through his pursed lips.
“It’s a good segue from your personal business back to the film,” Trish advised. “If you choose to talk about it, keep the details on the surface and take your time so you don’t blurt out anything too personal.”
“Tricia!” Marla barked harshly from the open doorway. Her high heels were clicking forcefully in our direction.
Ryan strolled away, deep in thought when Marla reached us. I thought about going with him just so I wouldn’t have to be that close to Marla, but I could not let Trish take the heat alone. After what she just did for us, I was not going to abandon her.
Trish was prepared, calmly deflecting Marla’s anger at being called away for nothing with quick answers. I looked away so she wouldn’t notice my smirk.
Ryan purposefully walked over to me and gathered my hand in his, pulling me away from Marla. “How are you doing?” he whispered privately.
I gave him my best “doing okay” nod and wink, even though my eyes slid back to see where Marla was. I think he caught my glance because he sighed heavily.
“How are you?” I asked.
“Excuse me, sir, we’re ready to seat your guests,” a crew member said to Ryan.
“I’ll see you later,” Ryan whispered, grasping my fingertips to pull me in for a soft kiss.
“Okay, hon. Good luck!” I watched his retreating back as a production assistant led him away.
Our group was ushered out into the hallway so we could take our seats in the studio audience. We had our own section off to the left side of the stage; I sat in the seat next to Ryan’s mom. Janelle, Ryan’s sister-in-law, sat next to me. Ryan’s father, Bill, kept fidgeting in his chair, anxiously waiting like the rest of us for Ryan to make his appearance onstage. Ryan was in the primary guest spot for the sh
ow, so he would be up first.
Janelle leaned over. “Are you okay?”
I was staring at one of the TV monitors, twisting my ring. My feet were bouncing up and down on the floor.
I shrugged. “Just nervous, I guess.”
“Why?” she questioned me strangely.
I leaned closer. “Photos of his proposal were leaked.”
Janelle scoffed. “Ah, so what.” And then I think it dawned on her. “Oh, he’s going to get asked about it now, isn’t he?” she said, appearing happy about it.
I nodded a few times, unwilling to tear my eyes away from the stage.
I held my breath as the camera returned to the host, Jimmy Collins, now seated at his desk after his monologue. His fingers picked at a magazine that lay facedown in front of him.
“Unless you’ve been living on the dark side of the moon, you know our first guest tonight had his breakout role playing time-traveling hit man Charles Conroy in the hit movie Seaside. He’s here tonight to tell us about his latest film, Reparation, which opens in theaters nationwide this Friday. Here he is on the cover of Entertainment Week. Please help me welcome Ryan Christensen!”
Music blared out of the studio sound system as I watched Ryan come out from around the corner. The entire audience sprang from their chairs. Women all around us went absolutely crazy, jumping up and down and shrieking for him. Their screams were ear-piercing.
Ryan waved and smiled, scratching his forehead before being greeted by Jimmy Collins. He looked nervous and totally overwhelmed by their reception.
Ryan leaned forward when he sat down, almost resting his head between his knees from the shock of the audience’s continued excitement. I could tell by the expression on his face that he was once again blown away by their devotion. I was glad to see he was still so humbled by it. Janelle leaned closer, excitedly nudging me with her elbow as she clapped for her brother-in-law.
“Your fans come out in masses! Thanks for stopping by here tonight. How have you been?” Jimmy asked Ryan, trying to proceed with the interview. The studio audience finally simmered down just barely enough for us to hear them speak to each other.
“Good! Real good, thanks!” Ryan replied. “Thanks for having me.”