Love Unscripted (49 page)

“
Hey, pick up a bag of nacho chips and some salsa. I’ve been hungry for some Mexican food lately.”

“
You want tacos for dinner tonight?” I figured that sounded good too.

“
Promise? Don’t toy with my emotions, Ms. Mitchell!”

“
You’re bad! I’ll see you tonight. I have to go pick out some manly scented stuff for my boyfriend now.” It warmed my insides to say that word again - out loud.

“
Okay, Peaches!” He laughed.

I snapped my phone shut and turned the corner into the soap aisle. Our conversation had me smiling. I found the men’s body soap section and started opening and sniffing all the bottles. I smirked to myself, taking the mental picture of Ryan naked, wet, and all soapy into my mind. It was one hell of a private thought.

He asked for new razors so I wheeled my cart down the next aisle to check that item off the list. I was looking over the different brands of men’s shaving cream when I saw her out of the corner of my eye – the curly-haired, gap-toothed girl. She was at the end of the same aisle pretending to be looking at some product on the shelf while watching what I was doing. I felt a jolt of terror sting into my spine. It
was
her I saw in the parking lot!

Don’t panic, we’re in a public place.
Maybe it’s just a coincidence.

I selected the rest of Ryan’s toiletries and hurried away to the shampoo aisle. I was on a mission to get what I came for and then go hide in another part of the store.

By the time I was finished shopping, my cart was loaded to the brim; I was no longer shopping for one. Even though I was mostly focused on my list, I still nervously looked over my shoulder every now and then. Was the curly-haired girl following me? I was slightly relieved that I never saw her again.

The cart was heavy and hard to push through the parking lot. The front wheel of the cart was wobbling and I had to use two hands to keep it going in a straight line.

Sounds of tires squealing on the macadam captured my attention; instinctively I looked for the source of the noise. That’s when I saw the old blue Plymouth coming straight at me from the end of the line of cars.

Thoughts of me dying in a parking lot, just like my mother, flashed through my mind.

Some deep down impulse forced me to release the grocery cart and leave it where it was; my body jumped in between two parked cars. If the psycho bitch was going to take me out, she’d have to take a few cars out with me. But instead, she drove right past me. She didn’t even glance in my direction.

I watched as she drove off out of the parking lot. She hadn’t aimed for me at all. I felt quite silly for letting my imagination get away like that. I shook my head to get my mind back to the task at hand, and pushed my cart to the trunk of my car to transfer my bags.

When I pulled down my alley, the paparazzi were there, waiting for me.
I wish they would stop taking my picture and help me,
I thought to myself as the cameras clicked around me. Wow, exciting news… Ryan Christensen’s girlfriend grocery shops! Stop the damn presses!

People are starving all around the globe, the pollutants we pump in the air are destroying the ozone, the global economy is in the toilet, but yet the most exciting news at this moment was to capture me digitally as I unloaded my groceries.

I transferred all the bags from the trunk to the kitchen and then drove off to park my car. I hit the key fob to lock my car doors and was just about to cross over Mulberry Street when I saw the old blue Plymouth turn the corner two blocks away.
She keeps this shit up and I’m getting a restraining order.

I hurried down the alley; again in a strange way I was actually relieved that there were other people around, even if they were the pesky paparazzi. They only wanted to take my picture; somehow they were not threatening. And now that I had seen them several days in a row, their faces were becoming familiar to me.

The one photographer I recognized was a small Italian-looking man with short, peppered dark gray hair and a scruffy beard. He was the nicest of them all so far. He didn’t ask annoying questions; he just asked me how my day was going. I wondered if these leeches actually had a heart when it came to their chosen profession.

Another one of the photographers that I recognized was taller, maybe six-two or six-three, with a well-pronounced nose and dark, olive skin. He also was somewhat nice, complimenting me on my clothing all the time. Today he liked my jacket. I pondered when the fact that I didn’t always wear designer clothes would come into play.

As I unlocked my back door, the short Italian man wished me a blessed evening. “Thank you, sir! You too!” I replied with a cheerful smile.

After I carried all the groceries upstairs and had most of them put away, I called Tammy.

“
Hey, I need you to ask Tony a question for me.” Tammy’s brother was a police officer in Providence. “I think I have a fan problem. Can you ask him what the criteria is for getting a restraining order?”

Tammy gasped. “Is it that bad already?”

“
I don’t know. This one girl just keeps showing up. I’m not sure if it was a coincidence or not, but I just saw her in CostMart over in South Hampton. And she just drove down the street after I unloaded my car. I’m a bit freaked out actually!”

“
I’ll ask him. Maybe you should consider not opening the bar by yourself? Can you wait until someone else is there with you?”

She had a point. “That’s a good suggestion. I can wait until Cory gets here. He’ll be in at four. It’s not like I make a hell of a lot of money in the afternoon anyway.”

“
Rather be safe than sorry,” Tammy said.

“
You’re right. Please ask Tony for me; see if he has any suggestions.”

I put all the groceries away then placed a small pack of hamburger meat in a skillet on the stove. I thought I’d start dinner now so when he got home we could eat together.

Home?
Wait… did my brain just say “
home
”?
I walked around my apartment, observing that there were little bits of Ryan in
every
room. All his clothing was stowed away in my bedroom, pants from yesterday laying on my chair, his expensive watch and cufflinks were on my dresser next to his bottle of cologne, a new script and a book were setting out on the coffee table, and his toothbrush was hanging in the bathroom next to mine.

Blending my life with his seemed so effortless. I tried to recall how and when it all happened.

It was almost four o’clock – time to turn the bar lights on and open for business. I was comforted knowing that Cory would be here soon. I turned the television on for background noise and adjusted my business hours sign to reflect the new opening time.

I had expected to see Cory as the first person through my door, but instead a few female patrons came in - no doubt here to see sights of Ryan Christensen. The three girls sat down at the bar; they looked quite young.

“
Good evening, ladies,” I greeted them. “What can I get you?”

One of them was sort of glaring at me; I didn’t care for the vibe she was emanating.

“
I’ll have a rum and coke,” she stated.

“
Sure. May I see some identification first, please?” I asked politely.
If you’re not twenty-one you’re not staying.

One of them was barely twenty-one and the other two were only twenty-two years old; none of them were from Rhode Island. All three of the girls were from Massachusetts, which was a forty minute drive from here just to the border.

I was so relieved to see Cory walk through the door that I couldn’t suppress my smile. One of the girls whipped her head around to see who I was smiling at.

“
Hey boss. Sorry I’m a few minutes late,” Cory apologized. In actuality he was only four minutes late. Certainly not a big deal, especially since I had changed his schedule from part-time to almost full-time.

“
No worries, Cory. I’m just happy you could work.” I patted him on his shoulder. Secretly I was thanking my lucky stars that I wasn’t working alone.

“
Limes?” Cory asked, looking around. I hadn’t cut any yet.

“
I’ll go get some,” I said cheerfully, trotting back to the kitchen.

I had several limes and lemons in my hand when I came through the kitchen door. At that very moment, curly-haired, gap-toothed girl walked through the front door of my pub. I sucked in a quick breath from the shock, almost dumping my arm-full of fruit on the floor. I scurried behind the bar, getting as close to Cory and my baseball bat as I possibly could.

I knew her name was Angel, but she was turning out to be more like the devil in my book. She looked around the inside of the pub before hesitantly making her way to the far end of the bar. I was glad she sat at the opposite end from where the kitchen would be visible from the long bar. Ryan would be coming through the back door eventually.

She reached into her little clutch purse and I felt the adrenaline start to release into my bloodstream. This girl absolutely terrified me; there was no way of knowing what she had hidden in that purse. I kept some distance between us until I could be sure of what she was up to. Eventually she placed some money on the bar and folded her hands on top of it.

Slowly I made my approach. “Good Evening. What can I get you?”

“
I’ll have a whiskey sour,” she whispered. It was weird; she never made eye contact.

“
May I see some ID please?” I wanted to know who she was and where she came from.

She reached back into that ominous little bag of hers and pulled out a small wallet. Her fingers fumbled for her driver’s license.

ANGELICA STAUNTON, DOB 2/17/1978

943 S. BRIDGE ST, Apt 12C

BROOKLYN, NY

She was thirty-one years old and a long way from home. Now I at least had more information to give to Tammy’s brother. I hoped I could get him to do a background search on this whacko.

I made the drink that she requested and tried to be as cordial as possible when I set it in front of her. I purposely mixed her drink light; no sense fueling her psychosis with extra alcohol.

Marie came in at five to start her shift. She made a face when she saw that most of the patrons in the pub were female. Cory was already trying to charm three of the girls at the bar. They seemed to like him too. Cory was a good-looking guy - tall, well-kept, nice arms, and a flirtatious smile. I hoped he was a good distraction.

Marie held her purse up in the air and shook her keys, indicating she was going to lock up her belongings in the office. I completely understood her reasons; the bar was starting to look like the setting for a Stalkers Anonymous meeting. Sure enough, about a dozen or so young girls came into the bar. The trail of tramps didn’t end. All of the fans that were waiting outside were now
inside
my pub.

“
What the fu..!” Marie gasped. “Where the hell did they all come from?”

“
The street, where else!” I breathed back.

“
Taryn!” She shook her head at me. “This is effed up! What are we going to do?”

I had no idea what to say to her. I was also worried about serving minors accidentally. We only had this size of a crowd on weekends, and life was manageable when Pete carded everyone
before
they stepped foot into the bar.

“
They all need to be carded and labeled somehow,” I said. “Cory, card
everyone
before you serve them. I’m going to see if I still have those paper wristbands.”

I hurried to the office and dug through my dad’s old desk. I found the pack of wristbands but the glue was so old on them they didn’t stick together anymore. In another drawer I found a stamp pad and a date stamper. That would have to do.

I went table by table, checking driver's licenses. I was glad that I did because there were a few that were underage. They were requested to leave immediately. It felt good to kick a few of his fans out.

Women packed my bar; it was indescribable. All ages, shapes, and sizes forced their way in. For what? For the hopes of getting a glimpse of
my boyfriend
? The man who loves
me
with all his heart? It reminded me of the time his car was surrounded out in L.A. by screaming, hysterical fans. My mood instantly morphed from stressed to pissed.

Marie approached a table of four women who were just sitting in anticipation. “If you’re not going to order something you have to leave!” I heard her tell them. “No, water is not an order. We serve alcohol here. This is a bar.”

She slapped her serving tray on top of the bar. I could see she was just as pissed as I was. “This is freaking ridiculous, Taryn!”

“
I know. I don’t know what to do,” I muttered in defeat. “I don’t know what I
can
do, besides stand up on this bar and tell them all that he’s not here.”