Incidental Happenstance (43 page)

            Dylan finally turned to her and looked her right in the eye. “We
cannot
be connected,” he said firmly.

            “I know,” she rushed. “It was stupid of me. I insulted your girlfriend,” she had to work to keep a straight face when she said ‘girlfriend,’ “and I really regret it. I can see by that picture that you’re still together, and I had no business interfering.”

            “I’m in love with her,” Dylan said frankly, “and what you said to her was inexcusable, selfish, and rude.”

            “I couldn’t agree more, and I’m so sorry. I’d be happy to apologize to her myself, if that would make you feel better.”

            “No need. I’ll pass on the message.” He could just imagine calling Tia and handing the phone over to Penelope Valentine. Tia’d climb through the phone to wring her neck, he thought, then instantly thought that it would be worth it if she could really climb through the phone and into his arms. He returned to his unpacking, glancing back up at the picture they’d taken at the top of the Tower, shortly after he’d told her he loved her for the first time. There was so much joy in both their faces, and it always warmed his heart to look at it.

            “I just want you to know that I wasn’t myself that day—that’s not the kind of person that I truly am, and I really regret that your first impression of me was such a bad one. I really hope that we can start over and be friends, and that once you get to know the real me, you’ll feel differently. It’s going to be a long few months away from everyone we care about, and it would be so much easier if we were OK with each other. That’s all I ask. No pressure.”

            He turned back to face her. “As long as you understand that friends are all we can ever be,” he said, “we won’t have any problems.”

            “Great!” she smiled, her demeanor changing. “You won’t be sorry, I promise! So then, as your fend, I’ve made you a list of the best delivery places in town—which remember is a half hour away, so be prepared for some hefty delivery fees—and have taken the liberty of stocking your fridge with some staples and making you dinner. A peace offering, if you like.”

            “I’m not really hungry,” he said. Although he was actually famished after the flight and the journey to the set, he definitely didn’t want to spend his first evening having dinner with Penelope. 

            “I’ll just leave it for you,” she said, “and I’ll get out of your way so you can unpack and get settled. I’ve already eaten, actually, but I thought you might be hungry after the long day of traveling. That flight is a real bitch.” He didn’t remind her that he’d only come from Melbourne, just a three and a half hour flight, for fear that she’d take that as an invitation to stay. She left, and returned less than a minute later balancing a large platter covered with aluminum foil. “Let me know if you need anything else—I’m just two trailers down. I’ll see you for rehearsal in the morning,” and with that, she left and walked toward her own trailer.

            Dylan unpacked a few more things, hanging clothes in the tiny closet and tossing some jeans into the miniscule dresser. He pulled his large envelope of pictures from the summer tour out of his carry on and started sticking them in places where he’d always be reminded of Tia—in the corner of the bathroom mirror, under magnets on the fridge, propped up on the nightstand next to the bed, along the edges of frames hanging on the walls that held generic landscapes designed to make the box feel more like home. Finally, the aroma coming from the plate started getting to him and his stomach insisted he peel back the foil to check out the contents. He moaned hungrily when he saw a T-bone, a baked potato, and some mixed vegetables—it was just what he needed to put his angry stomach to rest. He nuked the plate, pulled some butter and sour cream out of the little fridge, and reveled in finding a few bottles of cold beer. He put together his makeshift dinner and glanced at the picture of him and Tia. It was going to be a long few months, he thought as he sat down to eat alone.

            Penelope went back to her trailer and flopped onto the couch. Her first act had gone well, she thought. She could see the look of confusion in Dylan’s eyes when she apologized so openly, with just the right amount of humility thrown in for good measure. That was the first part of the plan—keep him guessing—win his trust in bits and pieces without being too obvious. She hadn’t been sure that Dylan would still be involved with that woman, but after seeing them in Europe; she’d considered it as a possibility and written a contingency plan. It put a few different twists on things, but it was nothing she couldn’t handle. She’d let them have their long distance relationship for now—she was the one who got to see Dylan every day, after all, and that had to drive the bitch crazy. Tia had to know there were some steamy love scenes involved in the movie—Penelope was willing to bet the little teacher had read the book and maybe even the script. She’d give it a few weeks, maybe a month to gain his trust, and then she’d enlist her accomplice to blow things out of the water, if she needed to. Her hope was that spending time together would make Dylan forget about what’s-her-face and that he’d fall for her on his own. A lot of time had gone into researching how to be his perfect mate, but she was an Oscar nominee after all; she could play any role, and this was very possibly the biggest of her life. Either way, by the time Christmas came Dylan would be hers; they’d build their romance in Bora Bora, and by the time they finished filming, they’d be Hollywood’s hottest couple and she’d be back on top of the world.

            Penelope showed up at Dylan’s door at eight the next morning. He could feel the thick fog that came from lack of sleep in a strange bed as soon as he opened his eyes, and he rolled out, pulling on the jeans and t-shirt from the night before as he made his way to the door. It was only a few steps, but he’d spent enough time living on tour busses to appreciate that at least he had the place to himself.

            God he looked sexy right out of bed, Penelope thought when he opened the door. His long blonde hair was mussed and tumbled around his face and the shadow of a beard gave him a rough-edged look that she found more than a little appealing. Soon, she thought, she’d be waking up next to him every morning, and the mental pictures she was conjuring sent shivers up her spine. “Good morning!” she said brightly. “Did I wake you?” Dylan grunted something incoherent and she was quick to apologize. “I’m sorry,” she said sweetly. She held up a casserole dish. “I do come bearing breakfast though—French toast casserole. We have a cast meeting at ten, and I thought maybe we could go over some of our lines for the afternoon rehearsal.”

            Dylan swung the door wider and motioned for her to come inside. He was barely awake and felt like he hadn’t slept at all in the rock hard and tiny bed that would be his for the next few months, but his stomach rumbled at the spicy smell that wafted from the dish. He was going to have to rehearse with her, he knew that, but he didn’t want to get into the habit of sharing his meals with her. Her apology and casual air the day before gave him some hope that she’d given up on the idea of them having ‘chemistry,’ but he knew if she started pushing things with him romantically, he’d have to lay down the law. It was the first day, though, and he figured he’d give her the benefit of the doubt; plus his stomach was rumbling once again. He’d have to put together a list and drop it off at The Hub today so he could at least fend off starvation on his own until Jessa’s arrival in two days.

            He motioned to the little table that served as dining, desk and storage, pushed his laptop out of the way, and went into the tiny bathroom to splash some cold water over his face and run a comb through his hair. After brushing his teeth he felt a bit more human, and he stepped out to see that Penelope had already started coffee and set the table for two.

            “Coffee,” he grumbled. “I need some of that before I can even think.”

            “It’s almost done,” she said cheerfully. “I figured you might need some.”

            “Thanks,” he managed as he dropped himself into one of the chairs.

            She jumped up as soon as the pot was full and poured two cups. “Cream or sugar?” she asked.

            “Not today,” he said, holding out his arm palm-up. “Can you just put it right in a vein?”

            Penelope giggled and sat down opposite him, handing him a steaming mug and pulling out her copy of the script. “Did you have a chance to look at the filming schedule?” she asked. “I just got mine a few days ago. We’re going to start with the beginning and the flash-backs, then you’re off to do your wilderness scenes—hopefully by late nexre hth, then it’ll be my city scenes—there’re a bunch where I think I see you in a crowd, so you’ll need to be there. That should take us up to the Christmas break, and then we have a couple weeks to finish up here before we head to Bora Bora for the big reunion scenes.” Dylan cringed a bit—that was where they’d film some pretty steamy action. Penelope, though, brushed right over it and continued, “I figured we’d run through the back story; then focus on the scenes we need to shoot next. Is that OK with you?”

            “That’s fine,” Dylan answered, taking a big pull from his mug and helping himself to a forkful of the casserole. “This is pretty good,” he said.

            “Thank you,” she said proudly. “It’s my favorite aunt’s recipe. It’s always a hit, and it gives me a little comfort of home, you know what I mean?” She’d actually had her assistant, Angela, pick it up from one of the bakeries in town the day before and had thrown it in the oven before she headed over, but he didn’t need to know that. Besides, she had to plant the ‘favorite aunt’ early, as she was part of a back-up plan and could potentially die in the near future. Figuratively, of course, since she didn’t really exist.

            “So, the back story?” Dylan prodded, scooping more casserole out of the pan. It was sweet, infused with cinnamon, and sprinkled with nuts; coupled with the strong black coffee, it was exactly what he needed and he felt the fog finally begin to lift.

            “Of course,” Penelope answered, and launched into her work. In some ways it was the typical story, boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy finds girl again; but there were some twists and turns that kept it fresh. Dylan’s character would be kidnapped by an angry drug cartel after witnessing a murder and being mistaken for someone else, then he’d be dragged into the wilderness where he eventually escapes and has to fight the elements and try to find his way back to civilization. Penelope would play the estranged wife who has to help the cops crack the case and falls in love with her husband all over again in the process. It would be billed as a chick flick, Dylan knew, but there was enough action that it would make for a good date movie. Although he was too humble to admit it out loud, he couldn’t help that his head swelled just a bit knowing that it was his accolade of sexiest man that the production company was counting on to pack the theaters.

            Acting was a completely different kind of work, and Dylan enjoyed the occasional break from the music scene. Lonely nights far from home were part of filming in a remote location, and Dylan usually took advantage of the down time to work on new music. The recent influx of emotions—meeting the girl of his dreams, falling in love, having to say goodbye—had all kinds of thoughts rolling around in his head, and he looked forward to sinking into the creative process of going from idea to actual song. For right now though, he tried to shake thoughts of Tia out of his head—that wasn’t help his concentration any—and ran through some lines with his co-star before heading out to the first day of many filled with meetings, rehearsals and filming.

             Tia skipped into her front door on Dylan’s first full day in New Zealand—they hadn’t been able to talk for day he’d said he’d take a break and call her at 4:00 her time. She held the phone in her hand, willing it to ring. When it finally did, her heart leaped in her chest.

            “Hi!” she said, falling onto the couch.

            “Hey gorgeous,” he replied casually, “miss me?”

            “It’s what I do best these days,” she replied. “I can’t seem to keep my head on much else.”

            “Well, I don’t mean to brag, or anything, but it’s already tomorrow for me, so I got to cross another day off the calendar.”

            “Not fair,” she pouted, smiling to herself. “So how’s New Zealand?” she asked.

            “Lonely,” he answered simply. “But I’m trying to make the best of it. It’s actually really beautiful here, though; lots of wide open spaces and wilderness. I could see taking a trip here sometime just for fun. You’d like it,” he added.

            “I know I would,” she said. “I’ve seen some shows on the nature channels that were filmed there, and it does look gorgeous.” She changed the subject. “So, I have to ask—how’s our little friend?” She was more than a little curious to know how Penelope had reacted to Dylan’s arrival.

            “So far, she’s fine,” he said. “Believe it or not, one of the first things she did once I got here was to apologize for her behavior. But you’ll like this even better—she even offered to call and apologize to you personally, if you wanted her to. I fielded that one for you, though. I really didn’t think you’d want to hear her voice, so I just said I’d pass along the message.”

            “Thanks,” she said. “You’re right about that. Hearing her voice would ruin any day of mine, even if she were apologizing. Somehow, I doubt the sincerity of anything that passes through her lips—unless she’s on a rampage, of course; then I believe everything.”