They were on a break now, and Bailey needed more than fresh air and water. She needed perspective. The moment she sat down on top of the picnic table outside her dorm, her phone rang. She set her feet on the bench and looked around. Cell phones were against the rules except on breaks and for a brief period at night. She glanced at the caller ID window. It was Tanner Williams. She flipped her phone open. “Hello?”
“Hey . . . I didn’t get to say good-bye.”
Her heart melted. Tanner cared more than she had given him credit for lately. “That’s okay. It was a busy morning.”
“I should’ve come by last night. I was working with my dad, throwing the ball, getting my accuracy down. That sort of thing.”
“Oh.” Did he even know what camp she was at? “I guess you’ll be ready to lead the team when school starts.”
“Hopefully.” His voice was tender. “We have a team meeting tonight, but I had to call. You’re at church camp, right?”
She bit her lip. Hadn’t she told him that the end of August and first part of September were for CKT? She checked the time on her phone. Two minutes till break was over. She held the phone back to her ear. “Yeah, church camp. It finishes on Saturday.”
“And next week I have two-a-days.”
At that moment, across the field, Bryan Smythe noticed her. He locked eyes with her and closed the gap between them.
Tanner cleared his throat. “So, can we go out Saturday night or something?”
Bryan reached her and covered her knees with his hands. “Break’s almost over,” he whispered near her ear. “Who’s on the phone?”
Bailey waved him off. “Saturday night? Uh, maybe . . . I’m not sure what’s happening after . . .”
“Saturday night?” Bryan’s voice was a gentle caress, one that sent shivers down her spine.
She pushed him away and tried not to giggle.
“You still there?” Tanner didn’t sound frustrated, just confused. He didn’t know that she was at a drama camp or that Bryan Smythe even existed, so he had no reason to sound concerned.
“Yeah, sorry.”
Bryan grinned and took the spot next to her. He slipped his arm around her shoulders and whispered into her ear once more. “Tell lover boy I said hi.”
Tanner was waiting for an answer, so Bailey said, “Saturday night could work. I don’t finish up here until late. How ’bout I call you Thursday or Friday?”
“Okay.” Suspicion crept into Tanner’s tone. “Everything’s good, right? Between us?”
Bailey shaded her eyes and looked out across the field. She spotted Tim Reed surrounded by a group of girls. She tried to focus. “Yes, Tanner. Everything’s fine.”
Bryan leaned to the side and studied her appreciatively. “Very fine, I’d say.”
She covered the receiver and gave him another playful push. “Stop,” she mouthed. “I’m serious.”
“Okay, then.” Tanner sounded bewildered. As if something really might be wrong but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. “Call me later, I guess. I was thinking of you; that’s all.”
“Me too.” She closed her eyes because it was the only way to keep Bryan and Tim from crowding her thoughts. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
As soon as she hung up, she pushed Bryan harder than before. “That wasn’t nice.” There was laughter in her tone. “What if he would’ve heard you?”
“I almost asked if I could talk to him.” Bryan reached for her phone. “In fact, maybe I’ll call him back, because Saturday’s my night. We wrap up the play and you and I go out for pizza.”
She hid her phone behind her back and shook her head. “I have a boyfriend, Bryan. What part of that can’t you understand?”
He moved closer inch by inch. “The part that knows I’m crazy about you, Bailey. Obsessed even.” He came so close that she could feel his breath on her face. “I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable.”
She stood up and created distance between them. “It does.” She tossed her hair and took a step back. But even as she did, she could feel her eyes dancing. “Good work today, by the way. I love your solo.”
“Thanks. And no one could play Dorothy but you. Your dancing is amazing.” He put his hands behind him and leaned back, appearing comfortable with himself. “About the Saturday night thing—have it your way. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here.”
She gave him a final smile and turned and walked toward the auditorium. Behind her, she could hear two girls approach Bryan, their voices high-pitched and flirty. She looked over her shoulder, but he wasn’t paying them any attention. He’d started walking back, the girls on either side of him. But his eyes were still on her. He waved in her direction.
She ignored the gesture and grinned to herself. Everyone said Bryan Smythe was a player, that he could pick up any girl anywhere in record time. But he didn’t seem like a player to her. More like a sensitive, talented guy who would’ve walked across burning coals for her.
Near the auditorium door, Tim Reed caught up with her. His group of admirers had apparently gone inside. “Hey, I wanna talk to you.” His expression was serious.
“About what?” Bailey checked the time on her phone. “Break’s over.”
“I know.” He glanced at Bryan and the girls making their way across the field toward the auditorium. His eyes found hers again. “It’s important.”
Bailey sighed. Tim had always been this way. Interested in making his opinion known but never interested enough to pursue her. “Fine.” She crossed her arms. “What?”
“Come here.” He took her wrist and led her around the corner of the building. When they were alone, he said, “Bryan Smythe’s making a fool of you. Can’t you see that?”
She rolled her eyes. “He is not. We’re friends, nothing more.”
Tim let out an exaggerated laugh. “That’s not what he’s telling the guys. He says he promises that in less than a month you’ll be broken up with Tanner.”
Bailey made a face. “He didn’t say that. He knows I’m not breaking up with Tanner.”
“Yeah.” Tim exhaled hard. “Not yet. But he’s turning the charm on so thick you can’t see straight. It’s obvious, Bailey.” He lowered his voice and looked at her, to the deep places reserved for those closest to her. “Be careful; that’s all I’m saying. The guy’s a player.”
“I can see that.” Her answer was quick. “Anyway, you should talk. She looked back at a group of kids walking across the lawn. “You have more followers than Bryan.”
Frustration filled Tim’s expression. “Never mind. I’m just trying to warn you. The guy’s no good.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “You deserve better. That’s all.”
“Okay.” She studied him for a few seconds, then gave him a quick hug. Her mom was right. She was too young for all this. The drama was better kept to the stage. “I’ll try to remember that.”
They hurried around the corner again and into the auditorium.
But by the time they were halfway through the first scene, Bailey had forgotten Tim’s advice entirely. Bryan had been kind and thoughtful onstage, using his talent to showcase hers and whispering compliments or flirty one-liners every time he had a chance.
When they broke for dinner, Katy pulled Bailey aside and gave her a stern look. “This camp’s production is something I take very seriously.” Her voice wasn’t angry, but there was no denying she meant business.
Bailey’s mouth hung open. “Did I do something wrong?”
“Just be careful. I don’t like all the attention Bryan Smythe’s giving you.” She allowed a tight smile. “This is a big part for you, all right?”
“All right.” Her cheeks were suddenly hot. “I’m sorry if I didn’t seem serious.”
“You did. Just don’t let Bryan distract you.”
Bailey’s mouth was dry by the time Katy walked away. And as she headed for the dining hall, she looked through a break in the trees to the sky overhead. God, help me focus this week. And help me know
if Tim’s right about Bryan. Tim’s and Tanner’s faces came to mind. At least Cody wasn’t in the picture anymore. The guy was such a jerk, throwing himself at Katy when he knew Katy was engaged to Dayne. She kept her eyes on the sky and sighed. Help me, Lord. Unravel this confusion. Please.
Bailey had been looking forward to teen camp all summer, and now she had the leading role and Katy was worried she wasn’t taking it seriously. Which meant she would have to find a way to ignore the distractions in her life—Tim and Bryan and Tanner.
That way what she did onstage really would be drama enough.
Work on the film took up so much time Friday that there wasn’t time for lunch with Randi. Dayne met her around two o’clock. “Lunch is out obviously. No time today. Sorry.”
“Dayne!” She put her hands on her hips and frowned. “That’s not fair. I looked forward to lunch all week. I want to talk about my husband and your Miss Indiana and how come it’s all going so good for you. Give me an hour for breakfast tomorrow, Dayne.” She used her whiny voice, her head tilted. “You always have the best advice.”
He hesitated. He had promised Katy he’d be there for the teen camp finale, the presentation of The Wiz. He had plans to meet his private jet at ten tomorrow morning so he could be in Bloomington by five o’clock. That would give him enough time to get to the seven o’clock show. He and Katy could have dinner together, and he would spend the night at John’s house and have most of Sunday with Katy before flying back home Sunday evening.
Breakfast Saturday morning would be pushing it. Besides, if the paparazzi discovered Dayne and Randi were sharing a meal, it would make the magazines for sure. Not that the stories would amount to anything. It wouldn’t be long before they figured out he was engaged, and then—for a while anyway—they would stop linking him with other women.
Dayne had already promised Randi, so he finally agreed and gave her a lopsided smile. “Bella’s on PCH at eight.”
Randi’s face lit up. “Really?” She hugged him impulsively. “I can’t believe it. Dayne Matthews taking time out of his busy life for me.”
“I’ll only have an hour. I’ve got a private flight to Bloomington set for ten.”
“Again?” Randi sighed. “You’re ridiculous. Does that woman even know what she’s got?”
“Yeah.” He patted Randi’s arm as he turned back to his trailer. “And I do too.”
It was Saturday morning, a few minutes before eight, and Dayne had three paparazzi cars on his tail. “Great,” he muttered under his breath. He had tried the usual tricks, turning into a couple gas stations along the way and taking side streets. But nothing worked. They were on high alert today—probably bored. All of Hollywood’s A-listers were minding their manners and staying out of the limelight. The tabs were rabid for a story—any story.
And this morning, the story was Dayne.
Halfway to the diner he gave up and fell in line with the rest of the traffic on Pacific Coast Highway. His packed bag was in the back of his Escalade, ready for his quick exit on the private jet. No question he wanted to lose the photographers by then. If they figured out he was using private air travel, they’d find out where he was going. And that would ruin the privacy he wanted between now and the wedding.
He parked in the diner’s lot, climbed out, and shut the door. Behind him he heard the squeal of tires as the three cars raced into the parking lot. Dayne didn’t turn around. Instead he spotted Randi sitting on the restaurant’s patio overlooking the ocean. She wore a wide-brimmed hat and oversize white sunglasses.
He lowered his head and made his way through the restaurant out onto the patio. He took the spot opposite Randi and let out a frustrated breath. “The scavengers followed me.” He planted his elbows on the table and stared at the menu in front of him. “Not a minute’s peace.” He looked back at the door. “Maybe we should eat inside.”
“No.” She smiled. “They’ll think we’re hiding something.”
“True.” His frustration ate at him.
“Hey—” she touched his arm—“don’t worry about it. They think we’re fighting, remember?” She looked over her shoulder at the cameramen.
They were out of their cars, resting on their back bumpers or sitting on their trunks, camera bags open, already aiming lenses in their direction.
She looked back at Dayne. “What are they going to say? ‘Dayne and Randi Back on Good Terms’? That could only help the film, right?”
“I guess.” He glanced at his watch. Ten o’clock couldn’t come fast enough. The weather forecast was clear, which meant it should be a smooth flight. Just a few hours and he’d be in Bloomington with Katy.
They’d talked last night, and she was so excited she could hardly stand it. “You’re going to love the show,” she’d told him. “Bailey finally got serious. She’s amazing. Wait till you see it.”
Dayne gritted his teeth and lifted his eyes to Randi. “Don’t they ever get tired of chasing people, capturing their every move for the tabloids?”
“Doesn’t look like it.” Randi took a sip of her water and maintained her smile. Anyone whose face was in the magazines on a weekly basis knew better than to frown when a camera was pointed at her. Randi was a professional. If she had anything to say about it, she wouldn’t let them catch her coughing or sneezing or frowning. She rested her forearms on the linen-covered table. “We’ll keep our hands to ourselves, and everyone will win.”
Dayne felt himself start to relax. She was right. The press thought he and Randi were fighting. Why not share a public breakfast on the beach, let the cameras catch them laughing and talking like old friends? Pictures like that would be good for the film.
The conversation shifted as they ordered and waited for their food. Dayne looked for an opening, a chance to bring God into the conversation. Randi was talking about her husband and how the two of them had planned to have a monogamous relationship, but that had changed after the kids came.
“I had a feeling six months ago that there was trouble.” She lowered her chin and poked at her omelet. Egg whites and spinach, no cheese. The sort of breakfast that kept Randi in her size-two jeans. “He told me he was considering an affair.”
Dayne felt sick to his stomach. “He told you that?”
“Mmm-hmm.” Randi lifted her glass and took hold of the straw with her lips. After taking a sip, she swirled the ice in small circles. “He said sometimes an affair brings new life to an old marriage.”
“Old . . .” Dayne turned his head for a moment and gave a sad laugh. As he did, he noticed the commotion in the parking lot. The three paparazzi cars had easily become a dozen. Every photographer had a camera trained on the two of them. Even with the backdrop of crashing surf and seagulls, he could hear the constant clicking. He tried to put it out of his mind as he turned back to Randi. “Old? You’ve been married four years.”
“I know.” She sounded defeated.
“Do you know how many guys would love to be in his spot? Guys who would love you the rest of your life?”
Randi leveled her gaze at him, and through her lightly tinted sunglasses he could see the depth in her eyes. “Not you, though, right? You’re off the market.”
“I am.” He refused to let the conversation turn toward the two of them. “But your husband’s wrong. Having an affair isn’t the answer.”
She lifted her shoulders and let them fall. “What is?”
Here was his chance to be a light, like he’d read about in the Bible earlier that week. He took a swig of his coffee and set his cup down. “The answer is God, Randi. Placing your faith in Him.” His tone was serious. He was tired of dancing around the truth. If Randi didn’t understand, so be it. At least he would’ve done what he was supposed to do. “Forever’s what God’s all about.”
“Hmm.” She looked like she might reach across the table and take hold of his fingers. But then she glanced at the parking lot and stopped herself. She lowered her hands to her lap and smiled at him. “I had a feeling you were going
to say that.” She paused, studying him. “You’re a strange one, Dayne, but here’s what’s funny: I think you really mean it. About God.”
He felt a surge of joy. She was listening, really listening. He kept his composure. “I do. Even here in Hollywood you can find that faith. I’ll help you.”
She nodded. “I might just take you up on that.”
They ate the rest of their breakfast, both of them doing their best to take small bites and maintain their smiles, acting as if they couldn’t see the cameras following every move they made.
“We should’ve had breakfast at your place,” she said.
“Yeah, that would look good. Randi Wells, struggling in her marriage, spends the morning at Dayne’s beach house. The press would have a field day.”
“Sometimes I think we care too much what the press thinks.”
“I do too. I read the other day how some top model stopped and gave a bunch of photographers a box of Popsicles. Every rag in town ran the story.”
“Exactly.”
“So maybe that’s the answer.” Dayne settled back in his seat and checked the time. “Hey, I have to run.”
“I’ll follow you out toward the airport. That way I can take a sharp turn before you get there. I’m the one with the rocky marriage. If they have a choice, they’ll follow me.”
“You might be right. They’ll think I’m headed home.” He stood and left a couple twenties for the bill. If the photographers hadn’t been watching, he would’ve hugged her. The conversation had gone better than he hoped. Randi cared. And someday maybe she’d give her life to God.
They walked out of the restaurant to their vehicles, and Dayne waved at the throng of photographers. “Nice morning, huh?”
“Does this mean you and Randi are friends again?” one of them shouted over his camera.
“What about your husband, Randi? Does he know you had breakfast with Dayne Matthews?”
Randi laughed and shrugged in Dayne’s direction. Then for the sake of the photographers, in a loud voice she said, “So you’re going home?”
“Yeah. I need an hour in my home gym. You?” He loved this, the chance they had to trick the tabloids.